When she arrived in Old Town, she suspected her sister to be the one that would wed Ormund Hightower. When Ormund chose her instead, she couldn't figure out why. Was it her looks? Did he see something special in her? Or was it simply her smell?
This fic focuses heavily on neurodivergentcy (specifically OCD). I do not read the books. I am basing most of the fic off of own personal beliefs of his character, and what I have seen so far in the show. (i do a bit of research here and there though.)
Chapter Word Count: 2,980
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⤺ Previous
Marriage was different than I expected it to be. I thought my days would be packed with duties, ending with dinner and a night with my husband. It was quite the opposite in fact. I felt as though I had nothing to do, filling my days with meaningless tasks.
Ormund would request I had dinner with him at least once a week. The time would be spent discussing what we had done in the past week. As he had done more than I, it was normally him that would talk. Most of the time he wouldn’t invite me to stay the night. We had only coupled a few times since our wedding, followed by a bath of course.
Most of the days I would find small things to do. When I found a bundle of dust or dirt, I would wipe it away, and buffed it until the object shined. Sometimes I would get bored of doing maids work, and just sit in the gardens, enjoying the sun and smell of flowers.
Something else I would do was visit the little prince that had recently moved into the castle. I felt similarly, sad about leaving the only home I’d ever known. But I was old enough to understand why I had to leave my home, he didn’t.
“Mama!” Daeron cried out, cheeks puffy and read like his hair, tears streaming down his face.
“I know.” I held him in my arms, bouncing him lightly up and down. Rubbing his back, I continued. “Your mama loves you, I promise.”
“I want mama.” He continued sobbing into my arms, rubbing his tears and snot into my dress.
“I know darling, I know.” I reiterated, kissing him on the side of his head. “Here, how about we play with your toys.”
I wanted to distract him, get his mind off of things. I didn’t want to lie to him, say that his mother would be back from him soon. Nor did I know what to say to make him feel better. Placing him down on the ground, I grabbed the wood carved soldier and put it in his hand.
“Here, you can be the knight, and I will be the dragon.” I suggested, grabbing the dagon toy.
“I want to be the dragon.” He said in between sniffles.
“That’s perfect because I originally wanted to be the knight.” I said, even though I had no preference.
Laying on my stomach, I got on Daeron’s level. Taping the wood carving across the ground I made it approach the dragon, who was in Daeron’s hand. Embracing a childish side, I played along, pretending to be a knight that was sent to slay the dragon, just as in the tale of Serwyn, the Mirror Shield.
Daeron, wanting to win the game, decided that the dragon would use its fire to burn the knight, killing it. To stop the play from being over, I created the lie that my knight had survived, pretending to be dead so he might sneak up on the dragon. But still, in the end, I allowed him to win, in hopes of cheering him up.
“My lady, I am sorry to disturb you.” The maid who stayed in the room with us walked over. “But it is time for prince Daeron to go to bed.”
“No!” Daeron shouted at his maid, running behind me, clearly not wanting to be left once more.
“It is okay my little prince. I’m not going anywhere.” I turned to him, grabbing his hand to lead him out in front of me so the maids could get him ready. “If you allow the maids to dress you for bed, I’ll tell you a story.”
“What kind of story?” Daeron wondered.
"Any kind you want.” I promised.
“One with dragons?” Daeron asked with a sparkle in his eyes.
“Yes, one with dragons.” I agreed.
Daeron’s mood became lighter as he ran to the maid, excited to hear the story I had to tell. It was funny, that even though he looked like a Hightower, he still had the fascination with dragons that the Targaryens did.
Once Daeron was dressed, he practically jumped into the bed, quickly settling under the sheets, ready to hear the story I would tell. Sitting in the chair beside the bed, I began to tell the story of Old Valyria, how they ruled with hundreds of dragons flying over the skies.
Before I could even begin to discuss the doom, Daeron had fallen fast asleep. He was such a kind kid, a little bundle of joy. I loved him dearly, but being around him, I couldn’t help but want a child of my own. A babe that could be raised beside Daeron, as siblings.
My mind wandered back to Ormund, how he made no effort to conceive. Quietly leaving Daeron’s room, I headed towards the study, wanting to discuss with Ormund. I didn’t need one now but I didn’t know if it was in his plan to.
I assumed he wanted children, he was the head of house Hightower and needed an heir, but there was also the possibility of him not. Even though he had no brothers, his uncle and cousins were still an option, so there was a possibility of him not wanting them, because he didn’t need them.
Walking into the office, I forgot to knock. Ormund glanced up from his papers, ready to scold the person for barging in, but refrained himself once he saw me enter. Laying back in his chair, Ormund waited for me to speak, to see why I barged into his room so suddenly.
“Do you wish to have children?" I asked bluntly, not knowing how to word it any better.
Ormund looked at me confused. “What?”
“I was wondering if you wanted children.” I reiterated.
“I am the head of the Hightowers. Of course I want children so that my legacy may continue.” He stated as though it was obvious, like I was stupid for asking. “Multiple preferably.”
“Alright.” I replied with a nod of my head, my heart feeling relieved.
I didn’t know what I would have done if he said no. There was no way I would force him, fall to my knees and beg. But I would have been sad to say the least.
“Why do you ask?” Ormund wondered why I had all of a sudden come and asked.
“You have barely visited my bedchambers, or called on me much since our wedding night.” I explained my thinking logically, as most women become pregnant right after marriage. “I assumed that the efforts to have a child were immediately following the wedding.”
“I do wish to have children.” Ormund told me plainly, looking back over his papers.“But I would like to get things in order first. After such a pricey occasion, such as a wedding, I am left drowning in paperwork. I need to sort through all these ledgers before then.”
“Ah.” I responded, not really knowing what else to say. “Well, let me know when that time comes.”
“I promise that you will be notified.” Ormund went back to his work, writing on the papers in front of him as he spoke. “I heard you have been quite motherly to Daeron.”
“Yes.” I proudly told. “The little prince is having a hard time with his mother leaving him here. I am just trying to be a caring female figure in his life.”
“That is good.” Daeron commented.
I thought there would be more. I hoped there would be. I didn’t want another night spent alone in my room with nothing to do, so I stood there, trying to wrack my brain with anything to say. It was awkward, I know it was, but I felt the need to stay by him.
Glancing up from his papers, he noticed that I didn’t move. “Is there anything else?”
“I just.” I hesitated to say what was on my mind. “I am quite bored. I was hoping to be able to stay in your company. I understand you are busy. We do not have to talk. But if you would allow it, I would like to stay here with you. You won't even know I'm here”
He hesitated. Ormund was clearly tired, just wanting to get the work done. But he eventually said, “That is fine.”
I didn’t want to bother him, didn't want to keep talking and distract him. So I walked around the room, observing the objects in greater detail. I avoided the shelf of books with great lengths, not even being able to look at it.
Even though it has been months since I had first been in the room, not a person had touched the shelf. Normally I would gladly grab a rag and start wiping it down, but it was too late in the night. That and I knew it would distract him, as I would most likely want to take the books on to make sure I get every crevasse.
Instead, I walked over to the cups and pitcher of wine, thinking about pouring some for myself. When I picked up the cup I noticed the smudges on it. Clearly, it had been used but placed back without a care.
It was gross. I couldn’t imagine someone not noticing and using the cup, believing it was clean, untouched by the lips of others, having dried wine chipped off and mixed with the new wine.
“I cannot focus if you’re buzzing around like a fly and messing with my things.” Ormund said with a touch of irritation.
“The cup is dirty.” I pointed out, ignoring his comment.
“I will have the help clean it in the morrow.” He responded shortly, irritation growing.
“No worries, I can do it.” I was quick to respond, as it gave me a reason to sit down and be quiet.
I grabbed both cups, because I might as well clean the other at the same time. Walking over to the hand washing station, I grabbed the cloth, dipping the tip of it into the clear liquid. Sitting on the couches that laid in the center of the room, I almost started to wipe them.
Feeling Ormund’s eye at me, I looked up. Noticing his blank stare, I remembered how my parents would scold me for acting unlady-like. Feeling self conscious, I placed the items down, looking down at my feet as I quietly said, “Sorry.”
“No need to apologize.” Ormund responded “I have just never seen a lady so willing to do dirty work."
“I truly don’t mind.” I looked back over at him, feeling a bit hopeful that he didn’t immediately belittle me. “I feel comfortable with these sorts of things because I know if I do it, it will get done right the first time.”
“I agree with that sentiment.” Ormund placed his quill down, leaning back in his chair, amused by me. “But I do not have time in the day to clean every speck of dirt I see.”
“That is where lords and ladies differ. I have a lot of time on my hands.” I picked the cup and rag back up, believing I was safe to continue.
Ormund let out a bitter huff. “I wish to be that lucky.”
“It can be quite boring at times.” I added on
“So you clean often?” Ormund question, beginning to see that it wasn’t a one time thing.
I nodded my head. “My mother used to tell me that I would be better as a poor man's wife, cooking and cleaning while he was away working.”
He didn’t seem happy about that comment. “That was quite improper.”
“Yes. It wasn't like I was on all fours, scrubbing the floor- well I have done that- but it was only twice!” I said in defense.
“Does my castle hold to your standards?” Ormund genuinely wondered.
“For the most part.” I told him truthfully.
“What does that mean?” His brows narrowed, lips downturning. It was clear he made sure the castle was tidy, it was cleaner than most I had visited. But still there were flaws.
“Well for starters, your shelves are dusty.” I motioned over to it. “I’ve been trying not to look near it.”
With his hands on his desk, he stood. Taking a few steps, he stationed himself in front of the shelf, tall and sturdy, as though he were about to call his banners to war. Taking his finger, he slid it along the varnished wood, letting the dirt build up.
Looking at his finger, he didn’t seem happy about the buildup of dust, wiping it off with his thumb. Walking over to the washing bowl, he made sure that all of the dirt was off of his skin.
“Would you want the servants to come and clean it, or do you want to?” He asked, walking up to me and holding out his hand for the rag.
I gave him the white cloth with a smile on my face. It was a strange feeling, to be accepted. My whole life I had always gotten weird looks, degrading comments on how I was, what I did. But now, with Ormund, not only was he not judging it, he was endorsing it.
“The servants can.” I told him. “It is a bit late for me to start a large project.”
Once his hands were dried, he handed it back to me. I expected him to return to his desk, finishing up the work for the night. Instead, he sat across from me, leaning into the cushion and taking a break.
With the rag in my hand, I began to rub the metal, wiping away the smudges. With all of the indents, I used my nail to reach the crevasse, making sure I wouldn’t leave a single speck. While I did this, something came to mind.
“I do have a question.” I said aloud. “If I may ask, my lord husband.”
“What do you wish to know?” Ormund copied my wording. “My lady wife.”
I hesitated, trying to figure out how to say it properly, not wanting to be misinterpreted. “Why did you choose me over my sister?”
“Are you not happy that I picked you?” Ormund responded to my question with a question of his own.
“It isn’t that at all!” I was quick to correct, looking up so that he may see my seriousness. “My family, myself included, were all very surprised, that is all. From what we knew of you, she was exactly what you were looking for.”
“You wish to know the truth of it?” He asked, readjusting in his seat. I nodded, letting him continue. “You smelled better.”
I scoffed, not believing it. Thinking that he was messing with me, I had to clarify. “So you chose me, because of smell?”
“Yes.” Ormund said so matter-of-factly that I couldn’t help but believe him, “You have a sensitivity to dirt, I have a high sensitivity to smell.”
It was intriguing, something I had never heard of. But he was right, I had a quirk of my own, so there was no room for me to judge. Still, it confused me slightly.
“I never thought she smelled bad.” I commented.
“It wasn’t that she smelled bad,” he explained further. “You just smelled better.”
“How does that work?” I asked without thinking. Correcting myself, I reiterated, “I mean- what is it like living with your sensitivity?”
“I feel as though I can smell what a person has done throughout the day- or days, depending on the last time the person bathed.” Ormund’s nose scrunched as though he could smell it just from the memory. “If they went through the market and stopped in the bakery. If they had stepped in a pile of feces. If they had worked with metal. It all piles on top of each other, most of the time creating a foul odor."
“I can't imagine what it would be like to smell all of that at once. Especially with multiple people.” I told him sympathetically, not even being able to imagine having such a strong, overwhelming sense. “How do you deal with it?”
“Incense, as you’ve noticed. But also this.” Out of his pocket, he pulled the same metal ball I saw at our wedding. “I have different herbs in here. It allows me to reset my nose and continue on like normal.”
“May I smell?” I wondered.
Willingly, Ormund leaned over the table, handing the metal container over. Bringing it to my nose, I inhaled the smell the contents let off. There were many different scents I picked up: Vanilla, lavender Sandalwood, and some other things I couldn’t name. It was strong, overwhelming to my nose. But if I had to smell the dirt and grime on every person that passes me, I would need something this strong to help me.
“It is good.” I told him, handing it back over.
Ormund took another smell for fun. “I make them myself. The box on my desk has all the different things.”
“Do you pick the ingredients yourself?” I wondered how far he went to make it all himself.
“No.” He placed it back in his pocket. “I get it all imported.”
Involuntarily I yawned, not even realizing how tired I was. Ormund took that as his cue to return to the work, knowing that he needed to get more done before he turned in for the night. Standing up, I returned the cups and rag to where they belonged.
“I should head to bed.” I informed him. “I appreciate you allowing me to spend some time in here.”
“I needed the break.” Ormund said, picking the quill back up and dipping it into the ink pot. “Sleep well.”
“Do not stay up too late.” I kindly told him, walking over to the door. “Goodnight husband.”
Next ⥬
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Hello again!!! We have finally reached the half way point of this fic! its gonna be super short, BUT I do have a gwayne fic planned for when I finish this one! that one i plan to be a lot longer and deeper than this (lots of GOT political stuff) so if you're intrested in that, let me know!
the easist way to stay up to date with my fics and their progresses is if you join my discord server! plus i would love to talk to you there!
hopefully I will have the next chapter out soon, I am kind of wanting to finish the fic before the next episode comes out, but i never know what may happen in my life/day-to-day!!
thank you all so much for reading!!!
Taglist: (comment or dm me to be added or removed)
USED TO BE "Perfect Sins" IT HAS BEEN RENAMED!
Masterlist
Category: Ormund Hightower x Female reader
Summery
When she arrived in Old Town, she suspected her sister to be the one that would wed Ormund Hightower. When Ormund chose her instead, she couldn't figure out why. Was it her looks? Did he see something special in her? Or was it simply her smell?
This fic focuses heavily on neurodivergentcy (specifically OCD). I do not read the books. I am basing most of the fic off of own personal beliefs of his character, and what I have seen so far in the show. (i do a bit of research here and there though.)
Chapter Word Count: 5,069
Smut below
⤪⧼༻ ⚝ ༺⧽⤮
⤺ Previous
My wedding day had come quicker than I expected. Many people had traveled from all over the realm to celebrate. Even though I had a few months to get to know my soon to be husband, it seemed as though there was never a chance for me to do so.
I knew he would be busy, he was the lord that oversaw the citadel, in the capital of the faith of the seven. But with the wedding as well, he was completely unavailable. The only time I was able to see him was the few times he would join my family for supper.
Even with this, I still didn’t get to know the real him. We would only be able to exchange a few words before my father would cut me off, believing that what he had to say was more important. Ormund was clearly irritated at this, giving my father a false smile, yet he always knew what to say. He is a very charming man. It was easy to see why he was so sought after.
When preparing for my wedding, I only had one person helping me get ready, Veda, my trusted handmaiden. She understood me better than anyone else, the only one that was able to reach my standards. I was already overwhelmed by it all, worried about how everything would pan out. The last thing I needed was unknown hands roaming my body, so having Veda be the only one helping, calmed me down slightly.
Even though I was excited, I was also nervous. I barely had a say in anything about the wedding, my mother and father voicing their own opinions, saying it was mine. I wanted it to be perfect, everything the way I had always dreamed it to be. It stressed me out that I couldn’t plan it. That I wasn’t able to choose the flowers or tapestries, the food that would be served or the guestlist.
The only thing that was completely mine was the dress. I know I made the seamstress go mad with how many alterations I asked for. But it was the one thing that I had. So it had to be perfect.
My jewelry options were lacking, as my parents spent the money they had on Jessamyn. Somehow, the word of it made its way to Lord Ormund’s ears. I was gifted a new collection of expensive jewelry. Even though he didn’t know my preferences, he bought enough that I would at least like something that was there.
Veda presented the collection to me, letting me choose. I looked between the mirror and shiny jewels, figuring out which one matched best. Pointing to the ones I wanted, she walked away to put the rest away. Returning to me, Veda began to clasp the metal around my neck.
“I never thought the queen would be at my wedding.” I commented, watching the mirror, debating if I liked the way everything looked. “It is quite exciting.”
“It’s because you’re marrying her cousin.” Veda responded, kneeling on the floor so she could fluff out the ends of my dress.
“Right.” I responded planely.
“I heard your lord husband is taking the young Prince Daeron to ward.” Veda mentioned.
“I did as well. He is quite young to be leaving his mother.” I said. Daeron was only three years of age, I couldn’t imagine my child leaving home that young.
“He is. But rumor is, the queen was pushing for him to leave earlier.” Veda was always one to tell me the rumors the other help had heard.
“Strange.” I responded with my face scrunched. “I feel bad that the boy won’t have his mother. I will try my hardest to be there for him.”
Standing up, Veda took a few steps behind me, allowing me to see myself clearly. Staring from the bottom, I noticed how my dress hovered right above the floor, meaning it wouldn’t cause me to trip, nor collect dirt from the ground. The lace that overlaid the silky fabric showed a beautiful, repetitive pattern, not a single design differed from the rest. The jewels complimented my eyes nicely, making them pop.
It was almost as if Veda noticed at the same time as I did, the hair that fell out of place. Jumping in front of me, she was quick to tuck the strand under the clip that would keep it back. Returning behind me, I was able to double check it all, not able to leave the room until I made sure everything was the way I wanted it to be.
“Perfect.” I responded with a firm nod of my head.
“You look beautiful my lady.” She told me with a proud smile. “I really wish I could watch the wedding.”
“I do as well.” I sadly told her. “You have done so much the past couple of weeks. Take the night off.”
“Are you sure?” She asked for clarification. I could see it in her face, she didn’t think it was a good idea. “You would not want me to prepare you for the night? Before the consummation? Clean you up after?”
“I am.” I assured her. “I can handle it myself. You deserve a break.”
“Alright.” I could tell she didn't believe me, but couldn’t argue farther. “We should leave soon. It would be horrible if you were late to your own ceremony.”
I nodded in agreement, turning to her, instead of looking at her through the mirror. With one last deep breath, I headed out the door. Walking down the hall, I met with my family, who had all gathered in my parent’s guest bedroom.
The second I opened the door, my sister ran to me, throwing her arms around me once more. “You look beautiful!”
“Careful! You’ll ruin my hair.” I was quick to rebuttal, pulling myself out of her grasp. Responding to what she said, I thanked her for the compliment.
“Sorry.” She apologized, keeping her hands to herself.
My mother and father only stared, not saying a word. I didn’t want to stand around any longer and have pointless conversations, so I offered, “Shall we head to the Sept?”
“Yes, we shouldn’t keep Lord Ormund waiting any longer.” My father agreed, pushing past me to leave the room.
Together, we all huddled in the cart. I had almost forgotten how insufferable it was being crammed in there with the whole family. Thankfully for me, the ride to the sept was short, being right down the road from The Hightower.
My mother and sister were quick to enter the sept, making sure that they could take their seats before I entered. Standing before the door, I fixed my dress, making sure that it flowed nicely as I walked.
Looking down, I checked to see if my necklace was centered, I adjusted my shoulders, standing tall as the door opened. Both of my hands hung off my father’s arm delicately. From a far, it would look as though we cherished one another. That I was sad for my father to give me away, to leave my family. That he would be sad to see his daughter go.
At the other end of the hall, Ormund stood a few steps down from the Septon, waiting for me to join him. Instead of leather, like he normally wore, his surcoat was made majority out of green velvet. Though it did have its leather accents on his collar.
He wore a silver chain that connected one shoulder to the other, the star of the seven prominent in the center. Most of his body was covered under a large green cloak, the symbol of house hightower embroidered onto it.
With every step, my heart began to lose rhythm. It didn’t feel real. Here I was, about to get married. Attempting to calm myself down, my breath became uneven.
As everyone stood from their seat, looking at me, it felt as though every notable person in Westeros was here, minus the king and his other children. Many held warm smiles, excited to see me all dressed up in my wedding gown.
When I arrived to him, his normal deadpan had seemed the slightest bit softer. It was almost as if he were happy. Proud that he chose me. Or maybe that was my imagination believing what it wanted, my mind attempting to calm its nerves.
My father extended the arm that I held onto, handing me over to Ormund. The velvet texture felt nice under my fingertips. I could feel his warmth through the fabric.
Together, we step up to the altar. Turning away from him, I awaited him to cover me. I felt the weight of his cloak land on her shoulders. Ormund’s hands lingered, trailing down the side of my arms as he retracted them.
When I turned to look at him, he stared at me with an outreached hand, waiting for me to place mine on top of his. As I did, we faced the Septon, presenting our joined hands for him to bind together. His hands were warm, calloused with years of swordsmanship, grip strong as any lord’s should be.
With a white ribbon, the Septon tied us together, beginning his speech. “We stand here before Gods and men to witness the union of man and wife. One flesh. One heart. One soul. Now and forever. Father. Mother. Worrorir. Smith. Maiden. Crone. Stranger. Hear their vows.”
“You are mine, and I am yours, whatever may come.” Ormund pronounced.
“I am yours, and you are mine, whatever may come.” I repeated quieter than him, fearful of somehow saying the wrong thing.
“Here and now, I proclaim, man and wife.” the Septon announced, unwrapping the ribbon that tied us together. Because now we didn’t need a physical representation, as the gods had bound us as man and wife.
My eyes trailed from our hands, back to Ormund’s face. Letting go, his hand trailed to my cheek, holding it still so I may not move. He brought his face to mine, planting a light kiss to my lips. It was gentle, as though he were barely touching me. His lips were soft and plump. It was clear he put care into making sure it didn’t get dried out, unlike most men.
The attendees clapped, cheering on the union. The kiss didn’t last long, just enough to get the point across. When he pulled away, his hand found mine once more as he assisted me down the steps. Eyes looking down, he made sure that he didn’t step on my dress. Not wanting to get dirt on my white gown.
Guests stayed in their seats letting us leave the sept. The bells rang loudly in my ear, announcing to all the commonfolk that the wedding had concluded. That their lord had married and the line of House Hightower would continue.
Hand still in his, he assisted me into his carriage. After I was situated properly, he joined me, sitting across. An awkward silence fell on us. Or rather, I felt as though it were awkward, he didn’t seem to care as much.
It was the first time we had been alone together, first of many occasions no doubt. I didn’t know what to say to him, what I should do. Wracking my brain, I attempted to find the best conversation starter.
“It was a beautiful ceremony.” I commented, trying to start off our marriage civilly.
Ormund nodded his head. “It was a lot shorter than I expected.”
“I agree.” I said.
The conversation quickly died out, but thankfully it was only a few minutes before the carriage came to a halt. Ormund was first to leave its small confines, standing next to the steps so he may assist me once more.
Looking up at The Hightower, it registered that it was now my home. I was the lady of house Hightower, no longer a Redfort. The moment I took the final step, Ormund dropped my hand.
“Congradulations.” were the words of the one who weren’t able to make it to the ceremony.
The grand hall was all prepared, a few nobility were already sitting along the tables. At the end of the hall, a large circular window was engraved into the wall. The star of the seven was outlined in metal. Stained glass filled the star, letting a rainbow hue flood in and mark the floor.
I stood in the colors, looking around the rest of the room. Ormund walked away to Jon Roxton, his trusted subordinate. I could only assume he was asking for Ser Roxton to do something for him, that he was not able to do himself.
Below the stained glass sat a long table, decorated better than the rest: lined with an embroidered white cloth, luxurious flowers potted in porcelain pots that were painted with the Hightower sigil, sat on the table.
I made my way over, meeting Ormund at the seats. A footman seemingly appeared out of nowhere, pulling the chair out for me. As my butt landed on the stiff cushion, the other guests began to flood through the doors. Most found their seats, but some stood around the doorway, greeting old friends or making new ones.
When the Queen entered, everyone parted, giving her the space to walk through with no issues. She held her babe in her arms, Kingsguard following close behind her. The ones who were seated stood, as one is supposed to do out of courtesy.
Once she had made her way to the grand table, she bowed her head ever so lightly to the two of us, showing her respect. “I am sure the two of you will have a fruitful marriage.”
“Thank you, my queen.” I gave her a small curtsy.
Walking around the table, she sat on the other side of Ormund, being his most high ranking family member. My family soon joined me on my side of the table, sitting neatly. After everyone was seated, Ormund grabbed his chalice that was already full of wine, standing up.
He put his hand on my shoulder as to acknowledge me as he addressed the other noble houses of Westeros. They settled into silence, noticing that Lord Ormund had something to say.
“I welcome you all. I appreciate the time and effort you have spent making your way to Oldtown for this event. Especially my cousin, the queen and her youngest, prince Daeron.” He motioned over to them with his cup. “May you fill your plates and your cups overfill with wine.”
When he ended his small speech, he sat once more. The hall erupted into cheers, ready to be fed and get drunk. The food was brought out by the servants, placing it all on the tables. Along with everyone else, I began to place the food on my plate.
“Will you pass me the bread?” Lord Ormund asked me, as it was just barely out of his reach.
“Of course.” I responded, leaning over the table to grab the basket.
“I see you are enjoying the jewelry I got for you.” Lord Ormund pointed out after grabbing his roll. His fingers reached out to my neck, taking the necklace between his thumb and index. “It suits you.”
“You have good taste.” I complimented him with a small smile. After he dropped it, I made sure to recenter it between my two collarbones. “Thank you for buying them for me.”
“You are now Lady Hightower.” He stated candidly. “I cannot have your looks be anything less than perfect.”
“I will do my best to be better than perfect.” I promised him, knowing I could achieve it.
Ormund let out a small chuckle, amused at my passion. Taking a sip of his wine, he seemed pleased. It only lasted a second, as he stiffened once a lord walked up to the table.
“I would like to congratulate the two of you. I wish for you to have a prosperous and fruitful marriage.” The lord said with a happy smile.
Ormund, not so discreetly, covered his nose with his finger. I tried my hardest to smell what he had, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. As Ormund wasn’t responding to the poor lord, I took the opportunity to speak first.
“Thank you my lord.” I responded to him.
Ormund grabbed something out of his pocket, a small metal ball with holes. Bringing the object up to his nose, he deeply inhaled, breathing in the contents. The lord stood there awkwardly, waiting to get acknowledged by Ormund.
“Husband?” I questioned.
While I thought whatever he was doing was strange, I made no comment on it, just wishing for him to be respectful so the man may leave.
“Yes. Thank you.” Ormund responded shortly, clearly wishing for the lord to flee the vicinity.
With a hesitant nod the lord left the table, returning to his seat.
Aside from that one encounter, the rest of the night went pleasantly. People drank and laughed. At one point Ormund asked if I wanted to dance with him. The guests gave us the space to move freely, enjoying ourselves.
But like everything, it had to come to an end. Long into the festivities, Ormund leaned over to me, suggesting that it was time for the two of us to make our way to his room. I agreed, having gotten bored of sitting there hours prior.
Bringing me to his room, Ormund and I were finally left alone with no one else to bother us. His room was large, decorated in mostly green: He had a bed that was centered against the wall, a couch and short table stationed near a window, another table that was clearly meant for private dinings, desk with neatly stacked papers and a bookshelf that looked more used than the one in his office.
I walked over to the desk, pulling the pins out of my hair so they wouldn’t stab into my head as I laid on my back. As I did so, I took in more details. The room was lit dimly with a few candles. Incense was burning in a few different spots around the room, filling it with the aroma of jasmine and vanilla. After I finished inspecting the room, I turned to him, waiting for him to say what he wanted me to do.
Ormund stepped up to me, being closer than ever before. In a way that only husband and wife should be. He brought his hand up from his side, pushing some of my hair from my shoulder so it would gather with the rest.
“What has your mother told you?” He asked. “Of consummation.”
“She told me how you’d enter me.” I told him truthfully. “And not to worry because it will be over quickly.”
He let out a laugh. I didn’t understand what was so funny. “Was that incorrect my lord?”
“Half of it.” Ormund responded, thumbpad drawing over my lip. “I prefer to take my time.”
Hand returning to my jaw, his head leaned into the crux of my neck. He took a deep breath before kissing the skin. I instinctively let out the softest sigh, enjoying the new sensation. I didn’t know what to do with my hands, keeping them stationed to my side.
Ormund’s hands reached behind me, untying the knot that held my corset in its place. I was surprised he was able to do it without looking, without needing assistance. Once the knot was undone, his fingers dug into the laces, loosening them.
Stepping away from me, he allowed me to shrug off the fabric, leaving me in my shift. We stood in silence as I waited for him to make his next move. Notioning to my body, he wanted me to undress completely.
Once I discarded it next to my wedding gown, his eyes scanned over my body, evaluating every detail. I felt bare, embarrassed to be showing him something that I had been raised to never show to anyone. But it was different now, my life wasn’t completely my own anymore, we had been joined together under the Gods’ eye and I was now his, as he was mine.
Something in his demeanor changed, or maybe it was because I had felt so vulnerable. When he stepped to me again, I stepped back. He continued to walk me backwards until my legs hit his large bed, causing me to fall onto my butt.
Pinching my chin between his thumb and pointer finger he dragged my gaze up his body to his face. Ormund leaned down to meet my lips, it was different than the one we shared at the altar, yet still delicate.
I chased his lips, but they moved away from me too quickly. Taking a half step backwards, he began to undo the buttons on his surcoat. His eyes were focused on mine, like he wanted to see every reaction I had.
After the surcoat was off, he was left in his tunic and trousers. Ormund was quick to discard the tunic. My eyes betrayed me, too curious to not look at his bare torso. He was built well, strong and sturdy. There was a mole that laid directly below his bellybutton.
His hands traveled to the buttons on his trousers, freeing his hardened cock. From head to toe he was clean shaven, the only hair on his body being on the top of his head. My eyes were quick to dart back up to his face, too embarrassed to stare. As he came closer, I moved farther onto the bed, allowing him the space to comfortably maneuver onto me.
Kneeling beside my waist, he hovered over my face, noses barely touching. Ormund’s eyes were searching mine as though he was looking for something, an answer to a question I didn’t even know. Whatever he found in them led him to kiss me once more.
With his lips on mine, his hand traveled down my body. Placing his knee in between my legs, he spread them ever so slightly, allowing him enough room to do as he pleased. It was hard to focus on both sensations: The crushing weight of his lips that kissed me so aggressively. And the hand that traced my skin, getting closer to the part between my legs.
Fingers brushed my lower lips. I jumped lightly at the foreign feeling of another's hands touching me there. Ormund’s thumb pressed through the two folds of skin, pressing onto my clit. A gasp escaped my lips as he continued to circle it, applying more pressure.
One of my hands balled in the sheets, ruining the perfectly folded fabric. The other one grabbed into Ormund’s thigh, needing to ground myself to him.
When I had gotten wet enough, he slid his fingers down to my entrance, prodding at my hole. I let out a guttural moan when he pushed one of his fingers in, pumping it in and out. My nails dug into his skin as I let out quiet moans that were closer to deep breaths.
I had my eyes shut tight as I reveled in the feeling. Adding another finger, I felt the muscles in the lowest part of my stomach to tighten. Just as I was about cum, he retracted his fingers, leaving me feeling empty.
My eyes shot open, looking over at Ormund with a deeply frown. He didn’t seem to care for my displeasure, only moved himself fully between my legs. I felt his hardened cock spread my lips apart, soaking himself on me.
Pushing it farther down, Ormund lined his cock with my entrance. Slowly, he pushed in, watching my expression, needing to see how I was feeling. All I could do was reach out for him once more. He was too far, too separated for such an intimate act.
Once he was fully in, he trapped me against the mattress, laying his weight on me. One of his hands held onto my hips, making sure that I didn’t squirm out of his grasp, the other locked with mine. Ormund held my hand tightly, pinning it above my head.
Low, deep groans slipped out of his mouth as he began to thrust in and out of me. His breath fluttered against my neck, as he kept his face stationed there. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I allowed him the room to plunder into me deeply.
Once more, my muscles began to tighten, I clung to him as though my life depended on it, not wanting him to stop even though I knew he wouldn’t. As I had wanted earlier, the tightness released pleasurably. A group of loud moans left my mouth as I finished, feeling satisfied by this interaction as my muscles contracted around Ormund’s cock.
I expected him to stop, or at least slow down, yet he did no such thing. His rhythm changed, but it was still as rough as before. Thrusting into me with all his might, he pulled out slowly repeating the process.
The pleasure slowly turned into something more painful, yet I didn’t want it to stop at the same time. Tears began to stream down my face as I became overwhelmed, but I didn’t know whether to push Ormund away or pull him closer. My moans morphed into something that was closer to a scream.
“Husband!” I cried out.
“I’m almost there.” Ormund informed me.
Ormund grunted loudly, burying himself deeply into me, allowing him to fill me with his seed. He made smaller thrusts, trying to push the liquid deeper into me so it’ll stay. Once he was done, he stilled, trying to catch his breath.
It only took a moment for him to pull away, pulling himself out of me. He laid beside me as we both tried to recover from the exhaustion. Ormund stared up at the ceiling, while I looked over at him, analyzing his features: His strong jaw, soft lips, reddish-brown hair with the smallest bit of curls beginning to form.
I started to feel my body again, focusing on the sensations: How the sweat clung to my skin, the sticky liquid of mine and Ormund’s was smeared all over my vagina and thighs, how all of these things seeped into the covers below me.
Feeling disgusting, I needed to clean myself as soon as possible. With a deep breath, I stood from the bed, finding my dress so I may return to my room and get everything washed off of me so I may sleep peacefully.
The moment I pulled my shift over my body, Ormund spoke up. “Where are you going?”
He seemed displeased that I would leave him on our wedding night, but I couldn’t handle the feeling of my skin.
“I need a bath.” I explained, “I cannot sleep in filth.”
“Are you calling me filthy?” Ormun’s face hardened, almost angered, clearly insulted by my insinuation.
“Of course not. I am talking about my own filth.” I was quick to correct him, motioning to myself. “I have been in a tight hot dress all day, followed by our consummation. I cannot sleep in my own fluids like this.”
Ormund’s body relaxed as he seemed to understand what I meant. “I will call for the maids.”
Standing from the bed, he went for his robe, using it to cover himself. He crossed the room in a few strides, making it to the door in a matter of moments. Before he opened it, he turned to me once more.
“Stay here.” He said in a commanding tone, as if I were one of his men.
Leaving me alone in the room, I couldn’t help but gravitate towards the couch, not wanting to sit on the dirtied bed. Exhaustion began to take over my body, as I wanted nothing more than to take a bath and sleep after such a long day.
The idea of getting a bath soon lulled me into a state of relaxation. I rested my elbow on the armrest, planting my head on my hand. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I didn’t even realize I did until I awoke to a light tap on my shoulder.
“Your bath is ready.” The maid dressed in green told me.
Blinking my eyes slowly and tightly I tried to wake up. When I stood, heading for the copper tub that had been placed so quietly. I noticed that there was a second one that Ormund laid in.
The maid helped me remove my shift, allowing me to seep my nude body into the warm water. It was blissful, almost as much as the night with my husband, to feel the water wash away all the dirt and grime.
“Did you enjoy yourself?” Ormund asked me with an inquisitive eye. “I didn’t hurt you too much?”
My hair was tugged back by the maid as she went to brush out the mess that formed. My eye twitched as it did so, but I tried to ignore it.
“I enjoyed it.” I responded truthfully as the brush bristles caught on a knot, tugging my head backwards painfully. “The end was a bit much though.”
“We will learn each other's bodies in due time.” Ormund promised.
Once more, my head was pulled back, causing me to wince in pain. I was quick to move out of the maids grasp, not being able to take it any longer.
“Where is Veda?” I questioned irritatedly, only wanting my trusted friend to do it.
“You gave her the night off, my lady.” She reminded me.
My face scrunched in displeasure as I remembered. I grabbed the brush from her hand, “I will do it myself, you’re ripping my hair out.”
She was quick to shuffle away from me. I felt bad, yet the pain was beginning to get unbearable. I was quick to turn to Ormund, afraid of what he might think. He only held an amused smirk as he watched me.
Turning to the maid that stood off to the side, he told her, “Have the bedsheets changed.”
It was a shock, that he already knew what I would have wanted done, before I even voiced my opinion. Or maybe it was because he was the same as I, someone who demanded cleanliness, perfection.
If that was true, I could see this becoming a more enjoyable marriage than I originally thought.
Next ⤻
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Hello all!! I am glad that so many of you enjoyed the first chapter!! this one is a lot longer (than I expected as well) I finally figured out where I wanted to go with the fic, so this will only be 5 chapter long!!
I also have changed the title of the fic from Perfect Sins to Perfect Matrimony as it fits way better to what I have planned!
If you want to stay up to date with me, or the progress of my fic, I suggest you join the discord server! My asks are open if you wish to ask me any kind of question!! or if you wish to say something annonmously!
Thank you for the love and support! I should get the next chapter out soon!
Taglist: (comment or dm me to be added or removed)
Hello all!! I know I normally don't post just randomly on here but I have decided that I am going to open up asks!! I will say that this is not for requesting fanfics or oneshots!!! (I do not do well writing for someone else, it has to be for me) but you can use it to ask me any question you may have about me, my fics, or writing questions! Or if you just wanna say something anonymously that is fine too!
If you wish to tell me of an idea you have, you can, but no promise I will do anything with it!
Thank you for all the love and support on every fic of mine, I deeply appreciate it! ❥
When she arrived in Old Town, she suspected her sister to be the one that would wed Ormund Hightower. When Ormund chose her instead, she couldn't figure out why. Was it her looks? Did he see something special in her? Or was it simply her smell?
This fic focuses heavily on neurodivergentcy (specifically OCD). I do not read the books. I am basing most of the fic off of own personal beliefs of his character, and what I have seen so far in the show. (i do a bit of research here and there though.)
Chapter Word Count: 1,565
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It was always going to be her, my perfect older sister. She knew exactly how to dress, how to act. Her morning routine consisted of going to the sept, never skipping her prayer, even when sick. She always knew exactly what to say to everyone to make them swoon. The exact traits any nobleman would want in a wife.
I try to hold myself to the same standards as her. For the most part, I am able to. Yet, I am constantly reminded of my shortcomings. That I get lost in my own head often. How I focus too deeply on the wrong things. That I am not as perfect as her.
She was bred to wed a high ranking nobleman. And I was the second born.
Ormund Hightower was a very serious man, knowing exactly what he wanted in life, and she embodied all of it. The devout faith, self respect, a woman willing to wed and produce heirs for the continuation of the house, someone who was personable and could get along with everyone.
Even from the moment we left Redfort, my parents praised and pampered her, preparing for the upcoming wedding, so sure that she was who was leaving the household. I was forgotten as they bought her new jewelry, made sure she had the best rooms at inns for her to sleep peacefully in, while I was left with the smaller, dirtier room.
That is why when we stood side by side, letting Lord Ormond inspect us like cattle being chosen for slaughter, I didn’t put too much care into my posture. I didn’t look him in the eye like I was supposed to, I observed my surroundings.
We were in his study, the place he spent most time. There was a large bookcase, holding many different kinds of books. Most seemed to be about the histories, or works of poems and ballads. It was clear he didn’t read the books often by the build up of dirt and dust on the wood of the shelf. Next to the bookshelf was a pitcher of wine. Two shiny silver cups sat upside down. A tapestry depicting the gods of the seven was perfectly centered behind it.
He made sure to keep his desk tidied. The papers neatly stacked, his pen being placed in its holder, chair pushed in, flushed against the desk. In comparison to the bookshelf, it was the cleanest thing in the room.
My eyes were drawn back to Ormund, starting at his boots. They were leather, dyed black for more sophistication. His pants were made out of wool, but the upper part of his legs were covered mostly by his cotehardie. That too was leather, but it was dyed a deep green, the color of his house. His black belt held it all together: The green velvet sash, his swords that were stationed tightly to his hips, making sure nothing moved out of place.
When my eyes reached his face I noticed that he was looking directly at me. That he had caught me engraving every detail of his being, his every day life, into my head. I was quick to divert my eyes away in embarrassment, looking over to my father who stood beside my sister, but he too was looking at me, disapproval written all over his face.
“Huh?” I wondered, not understanding why everyone suddenly had their attention on me.
Most would take my staring as admiration, unabashedly wanting of him. But it was further from the truth.
It was a calculation. An attempt to reach into the deepest parts of his being without even speaking a word. I know I had no say in the matter, but I wished for my sister to marry a good man. A man that would take care of her, a man she may fall in love with, in due time.
From my observations, and past knowledge. I was able to deduct that he would be able to fulfill the practical half of my hopes. For a man like him, love didn’t seem to be something in his vocabulary.
“Are you sure my lord?" My father was quick to draw his attention back to the lord in front of me. “I do not doubt your preference, but Jessamyn has been preparing herself for this marriage.”
“Is there something wrong with this daughter of yours?” Ormund asked, pointing a degrading finger in my direction.
My father hesitated before responding. His grasp on my sister’s shoulder tightened. I could see it behind his eyes, he wished to say yes. “No. But-”
“Then that is on you.” Lord Ormund responded coldly. “I told you I would choose once they had arrived. I made no promise to which one I would pick.”
My father couldn’t argue anymore. Whatever the deal that led to this marriage was, my father was most likely coming out of it better than the Hightowers. Which is why my father couldn’t argue, couldn’t force him to marry Jessamyn.
I was shocked, stunned into silence. The clock had started counting down the second he made up his mind. In approximately two months time, I would stand on the altar and marry him under the god’s eyes. All I could do was stare at him, my soon to be husband.
My mother grabbed at my sister and I’s shoulders, stepping between us. Leaning into me, she had to remind me of my manners.
“Say thank you.” She whispered quite enough for Lord Ormund to hear.
I was snapped out of my trance, jumping as I did so. I bowed lightly to him. “Thank you my lord. I am looking forward to marrying you.”
Ormund Hightower only gave me a curt nod, knowing he didn’t need to do more. The motherly hand on my shoulder began to tug me back, trying to drag me away before I could embarrass myself further.
“We will leave you two to go over the details.” My mother said before pulling my sister and I out into the hall.
She took a few steps away from the closed door before stopping. Turning to my sister, my mother grabbed her face, caressing her cheek with a sad frown. “I’m sorry my darling. I know you really wanted to marry him.”
Jessamyn stood tall, holding a polite smile on her face. “It is fine, mother. I am happy that he liked her.”
My mother’s sad eyes turned to me, as if she were blaming me for ruining my sister's perfect match. Turning back to Jessamyn, she pulled her face forward to give a kiss on her forehead. Without a word to me she left, leaving my sister and I alone in the hall.
Now that our mother had left, Jessamyn’s demeanor changed completely, giving me the largest smile I had seen on her face. Leaning toward me she wrapped her arms around my shoulders squeezing them tight.
“You seem happy sister.” I mumbled into her hair, doing nothing to hug her back. “I thought you wanted to marry Lord Ormund?”
Jessamyn seemed happier than I expected. Ecstatic to get out of the marriage with a highly respected lord. Which made me realize, my sister was the best actor in the realm. That she never wanted it in the first place, like she made everyone believe.
“Gods no!” She chuckled out. “I pretended I did so mother and father wouldn’t reprimand me for ‘not upholding the family standard’.”
“Oh.” I simply responded as she pulled away from me.
“Jayne promised to bring me to the Eyrie with her if I didn’t marry Lord Ormund.” She clarified with joy. “I may finally see her more often.”
Lady Jayne Arryn was the woman who ruled over the Vale. When we were younger, our father brought Jessamyn with him to live in the Eyrie for a few years. From there, Jayne and Jessamyn grew close. I knew my sister always wished to be with Jayne. But due to our own duties as noble ladies, she was expected to marry Lord Ormund.
“I am glad that you are happy, sister.” I told her with a small smile.
“Do not be so down. I know you will make a good wife for the lord of Old Town.” My sister tried to raise my spirits, even though they weren’t down. “Plus, I saw the way you were looking at him.”
“It wasn’t like that!” I was quick to retort. I knew that my attempt to survey him would be taken incorrectly. “I was trying to read him, find out who he was as a person.”
She scoffed at me, not believing what I had to say. “Well, did you like what you ‘read’?”
“He keeps tidy- for the most part. He is a practical man, and I am a practical woman.” I deduced. “I believe we can satisfy one another.”
“I believe he could see the same in you.” She nudged me. “And that is why he chose you over me.”
“Most likely.” I agreed.
“Ugh! I’m so happy!” She groaned in joy, changing the subject once more. “You don’t even understand!”
She was right, I didn’t. After months of believing all she wanted in life was to marry Lord Ormund, I was thrown for a whirlwind that she didn’t. That I now would have to be uprooting my life, because I was the one he chose.
Next ⤻
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Hello all!! thank you for reading this fic so far! The next chapters will be much longer than this! This is mainly the prolouge to get a little glipse into the rest of the story. I hope to post the next chapter soon! Mainly the thing thats driving me to write this is the interview James Norton did explaining how particular Ormund is with things and his looks, it really resonatted with me as someone who has OCD so i wanted to write a fic where its him and his wife understanding one another on a deeper level!!
If you want to talk to me, or keep up with this fic, please consider joining my discord server! I will also announce whenever theres a new chapter on there!
Taglist: (comment or dm me to be added or removed)
When she arrived in Old Town, she suspected her sister to be the one that would wed Ormund Hightower. When Ormund chose her instead, she couldn't figure out why. Was it her looks? Did he see something special in her? Or was it simply her smell?
This fic focuses heavily on neurodivergentcy (specifically OCD). I do not read the books. I am basing most of the fic off of own personal beliefs of his character, and what I have seen so far in the show. (i do a bit of research here and there though.)
Tags: No use of Y/N (can be read as an x oc or x reader!), Smut, Religious themes, arranged marriage, OCD, MC is neurodivergent!, Noble Woman
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Chapters:
1 ➻ 2 ➻ 3 ➻ 4 ➻ 5
Word Count: 9,614
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This fic on other cites
Quotev || Ao3
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Overall Masterlist
Discord link
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Taglist: (comment or dm me to be added or removed)
Summery: The retelling of events that led to The Rumbling and the aftermath from the perspective of someone who was a cause of it. The perils of being in love with your comrade. Going from childhood friends, to finding yourselves in a strange land completely alone, will cause anyone to grow close. After certain circumstances, they become more distant than they ever had been before. Being forced to come back together again to save the world would seem more challenging than either of them would think.
written as an autobiography it is first person and is like you are the one that wrote it. No use of any name, can be read as an x reader or x oc. whatever you choose!
Chapter Warnings: Graphic description of violence, death, titans eating humans, murder, marco's death
Word count: 5,214
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To Marco:
I always struggle with the words that I wish I could say to you. We were never close, but I can say from the deepest part of my being, that you didn’t deserve what happened to you. I am sorry for sitting there as you begged me for help, letting my comrades strip you of your gear and letting the titan strip you of your life.
↭
It was graduation day. Cadets were scattered all about the city of Trost, waiting for the ceremony that was supposed to take place later. Reiner and I stood on top of the outer wall of Trost, far away from everyone else. No matter how much I didn’t want it to happen, they were still going through with their plan.
Reiner held my head gently, kissing my forehead. It was long and sweet, like he was sending me off into battle. In reality, it was quite the opposite.
The plan was for me to run away, fast and far. I would try to make my way to the capital where I would hide until Reiner and the others came to find me. My only objective was to try and gather intel through all of the commotion.
“If any Titans catch up to you, don’t be afraid to transform and defend yourself.” Reiner said kindly.
“I should be the one worrying about your safety.” I responded softly, placing my hands overtop of his. “But I will.”
“It’s okay. We’ve done this before. We can do it again.” Reiner put his face close to mine, almost kissing, but not quiet.
The anxiety in my stomach grew even more. I was trying my hardest to not think about it, just pretend that it was not real. I leaned into him, capturing his lips. I kissed him like it was the last time I would.
I knew he was strong, and I was good at running. There was no way we wouldn’t make it out, but the sickening feeling wouldn’t go away, no matter how much I wished it to.
When I pulled my lips away from his, we gazed into each other's eyes. He looked at me as if he wasn’t about to commit genocide. Again.
No, he looked at me like he was determined to do it, believing it would save my life. I didn’t want to move. I was happy with pausing time and living in this moment forever. If time never moved on past this point, we wouldn’t have to do what we were about to do.
But it was inevitable. Reiner pulled away, walking to the edge of the wall. Standing at the edge, he hesitated, almost as if he realized what he was about to do. That we were going to once again kill hundreds, if not thousands of people, just for being born in the wrong place.
The flash of regret was gone just as fast as it had come. The face of a warrior, a strong and unmovable leader, is what replaced it. Someone who had to close off their emotions to commit horrendous acts for what they thought was the greater good.
It was chilling. Almost as if it were a completely different person than the man who just held my face, kissing me so passionately.
In the blink of an eye, he was gone, flying about the city with his ODM gear to get in position for the next attack. I turned on my heel, running along the wall until I found a good place to jump off.
I zipped through the city like any other cadete, but I made my way to the gate that led to the inside of wall Rose. The second I passed through the arch, I was stopped by a member of the Garrison.
“Where do you think you’re going?” The man sneered.
Remembering my place, I was quick to stand tall, putting my fist over my chest. I wished to seem inconspicuous, not wanting to draw any attention to myself, even though at this time it was impossible. They didn’t know titans were people, or that there were a select few that could switch between. That information had been wiped away by the king.
“I am to deliver a message to commander Pyxis from commandant Shadis.” I stated plainly.
“What is it?” The man asked.
“I was ordered to only tell commander Pyxis.” I lied.
With what was about to ensue, this lie would be the least of this soldier's worries. So I was willing to give a lie that would easily be disproven. Sadly, the man decided that a cadet running around was what deserved all of his attention.
“Well he is back from where you came.” The man snottily said to me.
“I was told he was on this side of the wall.” I argued back.
“Whoever told you that was mistaken.” He stood tall, trying to intimate me.
I truly did not know what his issue was. Either he wished to mess with me, being a new recruit, or could tell I was lying and was throwing me off. At any rate, he was wasting my time. The longer I stood by, the more likely I was to get caught up in the commotion.
“I don’t believe you.” My patience was thinning, at this point, I just wanted to get out of the conversation. “Where is he?”
His expression turned from a stern to a snobbish smirk, like he was surprised that I was able to see past his ruse.
Pointing to the wall, he told me, “The commander is up there.”
I glared at him. He was playing a game with me while I was trying to escape with my life. Yet I still couldn’t just turn and run. If there was any chance of him living, and if the people of Paradis found out that the colossal and armored titan were humans, I wouldn’t want them to look into me, leading to the others.
So, I scaled the wall once more. My original plan was to run down the wall where I could get to the outskirts of the town and sneak out without being noticed.
Of course, nothing in my life had ever been that easy.
When the soldier told me that Commander was on the wall, I wasn’t expecting there to be a group of people right there. I was noticed the moment I planted my feet on the top stone of the wall. The group of high ranking officials looked at me as though I interrupted an important conversation.
“I am looking for Commander Pyxis.” I said without thinking.
“He is not here.” The man, with roses on his jacket, told me.
“Okay.” I awkwardly nodded, not exactly knowing where to go from there.
Turning away, I began to walk away from the soldiers, still keeping with my plan. I barely got five steps before I was interrupted.
A loud booming crash rippled through the air. Everything went silent as the ground below me shook, not even the birds dared to chirp. It was almost as though time stilled for a split second.
My heart dropped as I realized that it was already too late, I again was stuck in the hell I had been in five years ago.
It was ironic that it scared me so much, even though I am not a victim. Eren, Mikasa, Armin: the true victims, were more courageous than I. Filled with vengeance, I knew they would be fighting.
Maybe that is why it scared me so. I am not filled with rage or vengeance like the others. I did not wish to avenge anyone. I just wanted to survive. To provide a good life for my family. To secure myself in a position where we will not be sent away to this island to be turned into the monsters that terrorize these people everyday.
Even with that, I was still sent here to kill the population of Paradis. Part of me wishes I was turned into the mindless creatures that are called titans. At least then I could say that I was not willingly doing it.
But, the world never works that way.
I tried walking away, wishing to run far far from the horrors that were about to ensue.
“Where do you think you’re going?” One of the garrison leaders called out to me.
Turning around, I noticed the others scrambling to get commands sent out, to bring some order to the chaos. One stood still, looking at me, expecting me to respond, to help. Just as I had been trained to do.
“Oh- Uh- I-” I stammered out, too frozen to say anything.
“There is no time for hesitation, cadete.” The woman angrily shouted, storming up to me. Her rage was misplaced, she was clearly scared, and the only way she could react was with anger. “Follow my lead.”
I could have run, I could have escaped, they would have done nothing about it. In that moment, I was nothing more than an empty shell, following the command of my superiors. That is how I felt most of my time there, but Reiner was my superior commanding me to go along with all of this.
The woman descended the wall quickly, weaving in between buildings with ease. She was more experienced than I. Clearly having honed her skills for longer than I had lived.
In the end, she was just a human.
A titan came out of nowhere, catching her mid air. I was quick to dodge the creature, running to a nearby rooftop. She called out to me, begging for me to help her.
My feet were like cement, unmoving.
As the titan brought her to its large mouth, only then did my body catch up to my brain. Attaching the hooks to a wall behind the titan’s head, I dashed at it, aiming for its nape.
By the time I had slashed through its thick flesh, I noticed the woman's lifeless body fall to the ground alongside the crushing weight of the titan.
I didn’t even bother going to check if she was alive, because there was no way someone could live without their head.
Standing on the building’s roof, all I could do was sit there and look at the steam rising into the sky. It was like the soul of the human who had been turned long ago had finally been released, as the person was returning back to their creator.
It was my first encounter with titans where I was not helpless. This time I wasn’t running away in fear. I wasn’t transforming into my titan to kill them easily.
No, I was cutting them down with the swords in my hands. Truly integrating into the way of the walls. Surviving in their every day, as they had done for a hundred years.
It was different though. The people of Paradis didn’t know that they were cutting down what used to be people. Some were criminals that deserved it. But most weren’t. They were ordinary people with ordinary lives. Most likely people wanted to better the world for our people: not stuck in a separated zone, being treated as though they were less than human.
They were people, people just like me, born on the wrong side. And now, they were no longer human. Turned into a ravenous beast. Sent to kill a population that wanted nothing more than to be left alone.
I felt as though I were a chicken with its head cut off. Every turn I took, eventually there was a titan. Not wishing to face one by myself, one that wasn’t distracted by its food, I would just turn and run the other way until it was no longer interested in me.
Doing such caused my fuel to run out quickly. As I felt the gas sputter, I looked for the tallest building nearby. If I could land there, I was more likely to get spotted by others. I also would be out of the titan’s reach.
Thankfully I was near the church. Its tall belltower was the perfect place to be stranded, but I didn’t have enough fuel to make it. Using everything I had, I got as close as I could, only a block away.
Everything was going perfectly, as there were no titans around. All I had to do was cross the street and I would be in the safety of the holy sanctuary. It is always at times when you are cocky, when you think everything will go as planned, that it goes horribly wrong.
A seven meter titan turned the corner to find me in the middle of the street. To make matters even worse, it was an abnormal, with lightning fast speed. In the blink of an eye, it was on me, lunging in the air, mouth open, ready to devour me whole.
I pushed the doors to the church open just as it landed on the stone pavement behind me. Looking around for the staircase, I could only find closed doors. I ran to the back of the church, suspecting to find the door that I was looking for.
The entrance to the church blasted open, as the door broke off its hinges, flying through the hall. It landed on the pews, crushing the wood with its mighty weight.
I opened the door that I assumed would lead me to the staircase, to safety. But I was sorely mistaken. The door led to a smaller closet. One that the titan could easily pull me from.
There was no time to run, no escape. I had no other choice than to pull out the small knife I kept on me, the one my father gave to me before I left.
The last time I held it with the intention of transforming, I was in the alleyway of Shiganshina. It felt so small in my hand now. It fit in my grip just as well as it did in my fathers.
Unlike the last time, I didn’t hesitate to cut my hand, knowing that it was either that or die. And I wanted to keep on living. The pain of my flesh being sliced open only hurt for a moment, before my body morphed into the feline titan.
It had been so long since I was like this. It felt as strange as the first time I ever transformed. Yet, at the same time, it felt familiar, safe. I felt calm, like nothing would happen to me.
The abnormal didn’t back down, still lunging at me as though I were still the same size. Its unguarded body made it easy for me to jump over, using my long, sharp claws to slice through its neck, killing it instantly.
I was lucky that there wouldn’t be any evidence of my titan left behind. The abnormal would soon turn into a cloud of steam, my deep, cat-like, clawmarks along with it. It couldn’t lead back to me or the others.
While I felt safe, I knew I couldn’t stay like this. I couldn’t risk anyone seeing me. If I was spotted, it would be known that there was a third titan shifter within the walls, and I didn’t want to be found out.
When I emerged from my titan, I was able to get a different view of the church. I could see the second floor from on top of there, the staircase showing visibly. I only had to enter through the door that was directly below.
From that angle, I was also able to see that I was not alone. An older man cowered behind the altar, looking at me directly in the eyes. He wore a black robe with a large gold chain around his neck. The symbols of the walls engraved onto it.
He was a priest. One that worshiped the walls as though they were gods. And I was clearly one of the people that helped take them down.
I left my titan’s carcass quickly, like if I got out of it faster, he would sooner forget what he had just witnessed. By the time I reached the other side of the altar, he was already beginning to scoot away from me, not having the strength to stand on his legs.
“Are you okay?” I asked as if I hadn’t just traumatized him.
“Stay away!” He shouted loudly.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” I made an empty promise. At that moment I meant it, I thought that I would be able to make him forget everything. “I just need you to tell me what you saw.”
“You’re a titan!” He continued to scream in fear as I inched ever so closer. “You’re one of them! The ones that destroyed the wall.”
“No I am not.” I calmly argued. “I think you must’ve hit your head.”
He lifted himself slightly off the ground. Just enough to see the carcass of my titan decaying. That was all the proof he needed to know that my words were a lie, that what he saw was reality.
“You’re a demon!” He seethed at me. “You have been sent here from hell to kill us all.”
I couldn’t lie to him about that. It was the truth. I was a demon, and I was sent there to kill them all.
I didn’t want to do it. I really didn’t. But there was no other way. To protect myself. To protect the ones I love. To protect Reiner. I needed to end his life.
Grabbing my knife once more, I tackled him to the ground. Once I was above him, knife held above my head, ready to stab, he calmed down, like he accepted what would happen next. I hesitated for a moment, praying that he would have forgotten it all by now.
The words he said next caused me to drive the knife into his chest. “You and your family will burn in hell for this.”
I hoped that he would die with one stab. For a moment I thought he did. I laid into him, not being able to look at his face. He coughed up blood, almost gagging on it.
Through the blood, as he tried to cling onto his last breath, he sputtered out. “Devil.”
Tears pricked the corner of my eyes as he said it. I wanted to believe it wasn’t true. That I wasn’t a devil. That they were the devils that I was cleaning from the earth, just like the Marlyeans told me.
I couldn’t lie to myself any longer. Even though I hadn’t done anything. I didn’t bring down the wall like Bertolt or Reiner. But I watched it. I knew what was going to happen and didn’t do anything to stop it.
All of that blood was on my hands as well. Now this priest, that was in the wrong place at the wrong time. His blood was on my hands.
I was a devil.
“Devil.” He croaked out again.
I was angered. Filled with rage by the truth. I didn’t want it to be. Yet how I relieved that anger was sitting up once more, stabbing him over and over until I knew he was no longer in this world, and even after.
Once it was over, he was covered in his own blood, and so was I. Crumbling to the floor next to him, I cried. “I’m sorry.”
I repeated to myself over and over again, thinking he would hear it, hoping that he would somehow forgive me for the horrendous act.
He wasn’t the first man I killed, yet it was the first person I decided needed to die. There was a difference between being commanded to kill soldiers in war, and murdering an innocent priest in cold blood.
The soldiers were trying to kill me, my nation, my family. But this man just wanted to live, praise his false gods and I have stripped him of that.
My body moved on his own as I was an empty shell. Like the survival skills had been ingrained in me, I walked to the staircase, climbing up as high as I could go.
I had reached the bell tower, but at what cost? I had no more will to continue fighting. To live with the knowledge that I was a devil.
I cleaned my blade off with the sleeve of my shirt before hiding it back under my clothes. Thankfully enough, my entire body was covered in that man’s blood, so it wouldn’t show.
When I looked up into the sky, it felt almost peaceful, like the world around me wasn’t crumbling to the ground. Both in reality and in my mind.
I was brought back to my father. Our last conversation. I know that he said that when I looked at the stars, to remember that he was looking at the same sky. But I wondered if he looked up at the sunny sky and thought of me. If he saw it in its lively brightness and thought I was alive, looking at the same sky as him.
My original plan was for me to flag down some help. To get someone to transfer enough of their fuel to me so I may reach the wall. But now I sat on the ledge of the belltower, wishing that a titan would come and eat me whole. Or maybe I deserved to be crushed to pieces by their jaws for the sins I had committed.
“What happened?” A voice called from behind me, a bit too nonchalant for the situation.
“Oh my god!” Another voice shouted. “Are you okay?”
I knew who it was from their voices alone. My friends had come to save me. Yet, I didn’t want their saving. I couldn’t even bother to look at them as I responded. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
“What happened to you?” Ymir asked again, needing a reason for being soaked in blood. “Didn’t you hear the signal to retreat?”
“Yeah I did.” I lied, still avoiding Ymir’s first question.
“Is that your blood?” Christa asked, grabbing at my arm and lifting them to see if she could spot any wounds.
“It isn’t.” I replied, snapping my arm back to my side, out of Christa’s grasp.
Scooting back from the edge, I stood to look at them better, realizing they deserved better than a cold shoulder.
“So who’s blood is it?” Ymir asked.
The way she looked at me, with those piercing eyes, made me feel like glass, like she knew exactly what I had done. Even so, I couldn’t just tell her.
So yet again, I lied.
“A garrison soldiers’.” I explained. “I tried to save her, but it was already way too late.”
Ymir stayed quiet, eyes sharpening on me. Christa on the other hand believed me instantly. “It’s not your fault. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”
“So what are you doing up here all by yourself?” Ymir changed the subject.
“I ran out of fuel.” I said while motioning to my tank. “I was hoping someone would see me up here and come help.”
“Well your help is here!” Christa said, way too cheery for the situation. But it did make me feel more lighthearted. Reaching behind her, she grabbed out an extra tank, ready to fill mine back up.
Christa was quick to remove my fuel tanks, filling it up for me. We stood in silence as she did so, not really having the energy to push a conversation.
“There you go.” She responded happily, handing the tanks back over to me. “This should give you enough to reach the wall.”
“Thank you.” I responded with a bitter smile as I reattached the tank to the rest of my gear.
The both of them walked to the edge of the tower, ready to jump off and head to the wall. Once Ymir noticed that I was not behind them, she stopped, looking back at me.
“Are you coming or not?” She wondered.
“I just need a minute more.” I responded. “Go on ahead.”
“It’s dangerous to be alone at a time like this.” Christa argued.
Ymir seemed to have picked up on what I was feeling. It was the strangest thing. That she, of all people, the emotionally unattached one of the group, always seemed to have an understanding of what everyone else was feeling.
Or maybe she just didn’t care enough to argue.
“If she’s not coming, we need to go, Christa.” Without another word, Ymir jumped off the building, attaching to the house across the street.
Christa was still conflicted in her emotions, looking between me and Ymir. Eventually she chose Ymir, leaving with a quick, “Please don’t be long. And be careful.”
I nodded my head at her before she jumped off the tower, following after Ymir.
Time seemed to warp as I got stuck in my own head. The priest’s words played in my head on loop. It was ironic, truly. We were sent here to kill the devils of the world. But the only devils that were on the island were us.
I was so entranced that my vision blurred. I could hear, but none of it made sense to me, like my brain wasn’t fully processing it. The only noise that was clear was the priests.
“Please don’t do this!” I heard a masculine voice shriek.
For a moment, I thought it was my imagination. That it was another hallucination. But the priest never said those words to me.
Snapping out of it, I surveyed my surroundings, trying to find where the noise was coming from.
Alone on a rooftop, I saw four figures. From a far, I could see one of the individuals pinning down another. It was strange to see the people of Paradis turn on each other in such a way. Which made me realize: they weren’t the people of Paradis, it was my comrades.
I was quick to jump off the belltower, making my way over to them. The closer I got, the louder the screams became. The scene that unfolded before me was confusing:
Annie and Bertolt stood off to the side, being bystanders to Reiner pinning Marco down on his stomach. With his arms behind his back, Marco cried, screaming for help, begging for one of us to save him, not understanding what was going on.
He locked eyes pleading with me now that I was there, thinking that I would end the madness of the others. “They have gone crazy! You must stop them!”
“What’s going on?” I asked out of shock, turning to Annie.
They didn’t even question my blood soaked clothes, already knowing it wasn’t mine.
“Marco overheard Bertolt and I discussing our plans.” Reiner explained, not fully registering that I was there, when I was supposed to be running away. “We have to kill him.”
Bertolt on the other hand did notice the second small discrepancy in the plan. “What are you doing here? You were supposed to go to the capital.”
“I got stuck.” I explained quickly before turning my attention back to the task at hand. “But do we have to kill him?”
It was the same situation over again. We had been caught, and if we wanted to keep our secret safe, the only way was to kill Marco. But this was different from the priest. We have known Marco for years. We trained alongside him, ate together. Now, because of our own carelessness he had to die.
Part of me believed that he wouldn’t have talked, but I know that was just a lie that I told myself.
“Theres no time for bickering, the titan is coming. Annie, strip him of his gear while I hold him down.” Reiner commanded.
Annie, the stonehearted girl, hesitated. I could see it in her eyes, in Bertolt’s too, they didn’t want this. Just as I hadn’t.
“Why do I have to do it?” Annie pleaded.
“You saved Connie back there. Why would you risk your life for these monsters?” Reiner seethed, tightening his grip on Marco “You’re a traitor. But, if you want to prove me wrong, take his gear off.”
Also like me, they couldn’t bring themselves to stand up to Reiner, to defy his cruel command. Inching forward, Annie grabbed at Marco’s belt, untying the gear from him. I could hear her unsteady breath as she did so.
Marco watched as I did nothing, begging me to tell them off, to stop them, to save his life. All I could do was watch.
“I don’t understand what I did wrong!” Marco screamed out at us. “It doesn’t have to be like this.”
Once Annie had thrown most of the gear out of Marco’s reach, we retreated to another building, far enough to be out of harm's way, yet close enough to be able to make sure that the job was done.
“Why are you running off?” Marco begged, from a distance. “You didn’t give me the chance to talk this through.”
He didn’t move. He knew there was nothing he could do, other than cry as the titan grabbed him. It was slow, as if the titan wished to enjoy torturing Margo in his final moments. Lifting him up into its mouth, it put half of his face in before chomping down.
Like a rotten cut of meat, the titan dropped his body to the ground, not wanting anymore of it.
“Why.” Reiner stuttered out in shock, turning to us as though we had an answer. “Why is Marco getting eaten?”
We stood in silence, not knowing what to say. He was the reason why Marco was eaten, yet he was asking us. Part of me believed he was playing a game. Making a joke out of his friend's death.
The other part of me knew, the look in his eye told the truth, he had truly forgotten all that had just occurred, and that he was horrified his friend was dying, and we were doing nothing about it.
“Reiner.” I gently called out, placing my hand on his arm.
“Why are you covered in blood?” His expression turned to fear as he grabbed me, checking me over. “Are you okay? Where were you hurt?”
“I-” was all I could stammer out before he cut me off. Even if I could say the whole sentence, I don’t know what it would’ve been.
“I can’t have another person I care about dying.” Reiner shouted in fear, inspecting my blood covered shirt.
“Rei-” I began to say more confidently. He was scaring me. This wasn’t like him. He of all people knew that this couldn’t have been my blood, so why was he acting as though I had been shot?
“Tell me where!” He shouted in my face, shaking my arms.
Bertolt stepped in, grabbing at Reiner's shoulder to pull him away from me.“Reiner stop, you’re scaring us!”
“Are you not worried for them?” Reiner’s wrath turned to Bertolt as he pointed at me. “They’re covered in blood.”
“Are you okay?” Annie asked.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Reiner shot back.
We couldn’t say anything else, none of us had the words for it.
“Oh. Right.” Reiner said in realization, quietly, like he was embarrassed. “We can’t bleed like that.”
He calmed down, yet the peculiarity of the interaction didn’t settle any of us. We avoided the topic as though it were a secret to keep from Reiner. I think we hoped that it wouldn’t happen again if we just pretended it never happened in the first place.
Reiner was never the same after that.
Next ⏸
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Hello all!!! I deeply apologize for how long this has taken me to write! I got out of my reiner phase and got really into other characters, but i am back!! idk how long it will take me to get there. If you wanna talk to me, or wish to know the progress of the fic, please join my discord server (here) !!!
Thank you all for your patiance and love, I am happy that this fic is enjoyed, as i enjoy writing it!!
About: Daeron dreamed of the same woman for ten years, saving him from his horrific nightmares. He knew her, but never met her before. No dreams could predict what would happen when he finally finds her in the most unexpected situation.
I do not read the books. I am basing most of the fic off of own personal beliefs of his character, and what I have seen so far in the show. (i do a bit of research here and there though.)
no use of Y/N
Chapter 10: Flying Free
Word count: 3,970
Smut Below
<- Previous
“Did you hear about Prince Daeron’s wife?” One of the ladies of the courts asked her friend. Her words were hidden behind her hand, yet her voice was loud, allowing all around them to hear.
The king had called the court to hear his new decree. It was the first time she had interacted with the nobility of Westeros since Daeron’s return to the palace. It was normal for people to look at her with quickened glances, hiding secret words behind their hands. Yet, this time, there was something different in the air.
Like always, there were those few people who didn’t care to hide their opinions, spreading the gossip into the open. It was truly embarrassing, how the woman had no shame. They were practically begging to be overheard. Especially in such a crowded space such as this.
“No, what is it?” The woman leaned into the lady, wishing to be able to hear every juicy detail.
“Prince Daeron trapped her in marriage” The lady said in excitement. Happy to hear about such a scandal. Caused by their prince no less. “Ruined her engagement with Lord Flint’s son, so he could have her instead”
“Really?” The woman asked in shock. Hand covering her face. She was in disbelief from the gall of their prince to ruin the honor of a noble woman. Especially one who was so close to being married to another.
The lady nodded her head. “I heard Prince Maekar confirming it to Lord Fipher.”
“How awful.” The woman said, pity lacing her voice. “No wonder she kept her distance from Prince Daeron.”
“Right?” The lady responded with surprise. “I would never be able to forgive my husband if our marriage was built off of that.”
“Poor woman.” The woman sadly sighed.
There was a brief pause. One that allowed her to fully take in the words she had overheard. It was quite the opposite from what she expected. Instead of the normal crude words against her, one that would drag her reputation down farther, this one painted her in a more positive light.
The last thing she expected was for them to switch their opinions on her, no less pity her. It was strange how the courts flocked to whatever the newest gossip was, believing it immediately. Their words were not necessarily the truth, just as the rumors spread about her. But still, it was something that could make her life less miserable.
Yet now they were against Daeron. A man. A prince by blood. The consequences that he would face would be small, as he was never a part of the court much anyways.
The weight of feeling so alone, unseen, lifted into the heavens above. She had enough of the conversation, obtaining all the information she needed. All she wanted to do now was find Daeron, to thank him, assuming he was the one who spread the rumor.
The woman added onto the speculation, needing to find a reason in every action. “I wonder if his running away was him trying to avoid the consequences of his actions.”
“Most definitely.” The lady assumed. “But they do seem to be getting along better now.”
“They do.” The woman agreed, “I wonder if we’ll have a new princeling soon.”
Noticing her movements, the lady swiftly stepped into her friend, rapidly shouting in a hushed tone. “She’s walking over here.”
“Quick, act normal.” The woman replied, standing taller. Acting as though they weren’t loudly talking about her.
“Princess.” The two said in unison, bowing to her as she passed.
She only gave them a short nod as she walked by, not wishing to engage with the gossips of the court. A smile spread across her lips as she left the throne room. As she made her way down the hall, she found her pace quickened, needing to speak to daeron.
Her heart clenched. Not out of dread like the past couple of months, but from the new found hope: That she would not fear leaving her room and maybe she could make a few friends. More importantly, that everything between her and Daeron would become better.
Witnessing him sneak out, she knew Daeron couldn’t have been far. And she was correct, finding daeron walking in the empty halls.
“Daeron.” She called out, not wanting him to run off any further.
Daeron turned around quickly, a small smirk gracing his lips as his eyes fell on her. Stalling his movements, he waited for her to catch up. “Good morrow, my light.”
“Good morrow.” She kindly responded.
Even though they had been regularly interacting with one another for quite some time now, every time he addressed her, she felt giddy. Daeron had been calling her the nickname more and more, making her heart race.
“You talked to the courts?” She asked, even though she already knew. “Thank you.”
“Do not thank me.” Daeron quickly replied, knowing he didn’t deserve any form of praise for his actions. “I should have done it long ago.”
“But you did it. That is what matters to me.” She responded.
Daeron didn’t reply. He didn’t deserve the praise she basked him in. He had been horrible to her, ever since they got married. Even before they wed, he only worried about his own selfish desires. Truly, Daeron didn’t deserve her, her love, her light.
“Would you join me for a walk in the gardens?” She cut his thoughts off.
He wished to say no. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he didn’t deserve something so glorious as walking in the gardens with her. At the same time, she didn’t deserve to be abandoned anymore.
“I would be delighted to.” Daeron responded warmly.
They walked like a couple who had yet to marry. Leaving enough space between them for another person. Keeping their hands to themselves, any unknowing person would believe the two were merely courting.
There was a silence between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable like they had been in the past. It was calming, like their marriage had always been content. It reminded Daeron of when they first met, on the balcony overlooking the sea in Flint’s Fingers.
It had only been a year since their meeting. Even with such a short time together, he found every way to ruin things. But now, they were on amicable terms, and Daeron was willing to do anything to fix what he had broken.
The garden was empty for the start of fall. Most of the nobility in the court had gotten too comfortable with their warm summers, not even being able to handle the smallest amount of winter winds.
That is what made the experience better, they were alone. It allowed them to speak freely without the fear of being overheard. Daeron did not want to risk another rumor outbreak, making her life even harder than it already was.
“That court calling was quite boring.” She commented.
“Truly.” Daeron agreed.
She could smell the alcohol on him. It surprisingly wasn’t as strong as it had been previously, but it was still there. Even though when alcohol was present in Daeron’s system, he tended to act irrationally, she had grown to love the smell. It was distinctly him.
“I truly expected you to sneak out earlier." She added, trying to keep the conversation going.
“You were watching me?” Daeron asked with a chuckle.
She puffed her chest out, standing taller, trying to put a wall up. Her intention wasn’t to expose that information. “Well you were more interesting then the long winded decrees.”
“I highly doubt that.” Daeron continued to banter.
“Well the bar wasn’t that high to begin with.” She added on, being painfully reminded how much of a waste of time it was to stand there and listen to the boring, fancied words.
“That is true.” He agreed. “Why didn’t you join me?”
It was a fair question, but she didn’t have much of an answer. If she had to guess, it was because she had gotten so used to his distance, it never occurred to her that she should stand by him, or that he would want her to. Even though things had been better, it would take time for her to readjust to their relationship once more.
“I will join you next time.” She promised with a small smile.
Silence laid upon the both of them as they continued to walk along the gravel of the garden. The blood under her skin began to warm as her mind wandered, causing her to stiffen and fidget alongside him.
It was killing her. While she loved that he had taken a more present, and pleasing role in her life, they still had yet to act as though they were married. To embrace one another in a way only two have been united under the gods eye should.
“You seem bothered,” Daeron commented, noticing the way she messed with the sides of her dress. “What is it, my love? What can I do?”
Taking a deep breath, she quietly mumbled. “You haven’t touched me in months.”
She stopped her movements, looking over at her husband. It felt wrong of her to want him in such a way, even though they were married, and they had laid together before. The previous times that contact was initiated, it was always Daeron who started it. Yet, he avoided her touch like the great spring sickness since he returned to the palace.
“I have not earned the right to enjoy you.” Daeron stated plainly.
It was ironic that Daeron, the prince who spent many nights in the brothels had now, all of a sudden made a vow of chastity. He had wanted nothing more than to kiss her, to enjoy her. It had been torture to hold himself back, especially as they had been in close contact more recently.
But he always refrained.
After their last encounter, Daeron was ashamed. He never should have had her in such a state. She didn’t deserve it. So he made sure that the next time it happened, it would only be after he made up for all of his past mistakes.
“Well. After today, I think you have.” She commented, giving him a sly smirk. Leaning toward him, she made sure he did want it, instead of him trying to politely reject her. “I want to. As long as you-”
“Yes.” Daeron didn’t even allow her to finish her sentence “More than anything.”
“Good.” She nodded her head with a small smile. “Than shall we-”
She was going to suggest they find their way back to one of their rooms, where they could continue their desires, privately. But, Daeron couldn’t hold back any longer. Her permission was all he needed to close the gap between the two of them, connecting them at the lips.
It was as though Daeron was trying to consume her, the way he pulled her into his body, caging her in with his strong grasp. Her hands found its way to the base of Daeron’s neck, losing herself in his lips.
There was no skill, no attempt to be good. Just pure passion. They lost themselves in the heat of it, focusing on the feeling of one another. It almost made her forget all decency. When she pulled away, Daeron chased after her, not wanting to stop. She was able to move her head, causing his lips to land on the edge of her jaw.
“We're in the gardens.” She reminded him sternly.
“Good.” Daeron responded, as he began to kiss down her neck. His hands trailed down her back, heading toward her butt. “Let them find us, so they may spread the word of how much I love my wife.”
“Daeron!” She laughed.
In the end, he agreed, pulling away from her. Hand in hand, they walked out of the garden. The closer they got to her room, the quicker their pace rose until they were running, happily giggling at their own antics. Many of the nobility they passed gave glares of disdain, not appreciating such public display of disarray. Especially from their royal family.
Yet, they could care less of what the nobility thought at that moment. They had each other and that was all that mattered.The second the door had shut behind them, they gravitated toward one another. She ran her fingers through Daeron’s hair as their lips connected once more.
A noise was drawn from the back of Daeron’s throat, vibrating against her lips. Placing his hands on her hips, Daeron pulled her into his body, needing her to be as close as possible. He could feel his pants tighten around his hip at the mere thought of having her.
He mumbled lightly on her lips, not wanting to pull away, “Gods, I love you.”
She stared deeply into his lilac eyes. His pupils were blown wide, the dilation taking up almost all of his iris.
She was sick of words, needing actions to prove how she felt. Leaning into him once more, she connected their lips. It was soft, as though they were barely touching. It wasn’t the normal desperate plea to have one another. No, this time was more of a declaration. A way of showing Daeron that she was his, and he was hers.
It was her that led Daeron to the bed, having him sit on the edge. He allowed her to do so: willing to surrender himself fully, to be at her mercy, to take whatever she wanted to give him. It was his duty as her husband.
Lifting her skirt up above her knees gave her the free range she needed to straddle Daeron’s thighs. She cupped his face, letting the fabric pool around them. Her eyes scanned his skin.
Thumb rubbing against the scarred skin, she remembered when she first fell in love with him: In the garden with Emely unabashedly flirting with him. The memory made her laugh, with the way Emely tried her hardest to gain Daeron’s attention, but his gaze never left her. And she too struggled looking away from him as well.
“You’re so beautiful.” She whispered, lightly brushing some of his stray strands of hair out of his face.
Daeron chuckled bitterly. “You are the only one who thinks that.”
“I highly doubt that.” She softly told him, leaning in closer so her forehead rested against his. “Its just that, you’re a prince. If ladies ogled over how beautiful you are, they’d be seen as whores. I on the other hand am the lucky lady that got to marry you.”
“I wouldn’t say marrying me is lucky.” Daeron retorted. “I, on the other hand, have been blessed with such a forgiving wife.”
“None of that.” She shook her head at him. “I will not lie and say that you are perfect. But you are trying, and that is more than what most husbands would do. And I am lucky because I got to marry for love, and not obligation.”
Daeron softly called out her name like it was a prayer. But, she cut him off. It had been too long, her needs and desires had been ignored. She no longer wanted to wait.
Kissing him once more, her hand traveled down his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin bleed from behind the fabrics of his tunic. Gripping at the ends, she began to drag it up. Pulling away from the kiss, she wished to see him fully.
“I pray that you still find scars attractive." Daeron said in a hushed tone, remembering how the thieves had left him.
“Oh I very much do.” She assured him.
Once his tunic had been tossed aside she used the palm of her hand to push Daeron into the fluff of the bed. She leaned her face down to the scar on his cheek. It was one of the first things she had noticed about him many moons ago, the healed over skin that spanned from the corner of his mouth to his mutilated ear.
Her head moved to the scars scattered on his chest. They were small: ones that would most definitely heal completely with time. Either way, no matter how big or small, she loved every part of him.
Once she had finished, she moved back to Daeron’s face, planting her lips against his. A whine of desire reverberated from the back of Daeron’s throat. When she finally pulled away, she hovered above him, staring into his lilac eyes with a small smile.
“I don’t deserve you.” Daeron said with a content sigh.
Leaning away from Daeron’s face, she sat her weight on his upper thighs, hands resting on his bare chest. “If that was true, why did the gods destined us to be together?”
“To jest.” Daeron’s hands made their way to her hips, thumbs rubbing against the fabric of her dress. “They wanted to laugh, watching me mess up over and over again with you, even though you are already mine.”
She could not deny the fact that he had ruined things, but he was doing better now. The only thing she could do was make sure it never happened again. “As long as you talk to me, we can get through anything. Alright?”
“Of course.” He agreed. “I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”
She hummed in agreement, her lips trailing down to his jawline, giving a delicate kiss. Grinding against his hardening groin, they both let out a small, breathy, moan. Daeron’s grip on her hips tightened as he wished to keep her on him.
“My light.” Daeron cried out, as though he were in pain. “I need you.”
“As you wish, my prince.” She said with a soft smile, pulling away from him.
Standing before the bed, she untied the knot that kept her dress on her body. Daeron took the opportunity to free himself from the confines of his britches, wanting to hurry the process along. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Daeron watched her undress with attentive eyes.
Once she was naked she turned to see Daeron’s adoring face. It brought a smile to her lips, seeing her husband so in love, so infatuated with her. Especially after him not even being able to look in her direction.
She walked toward Daeron, stopping once she was in between his legs. Running her fingers through his messy blonde hair, she stared back into his lilac eyes, expressing her love through mere looks.
Wasting no time in getting on top of him, wanting to take control. Hand sliding between their bodies, she lined his cock up with her entrance before sinking down on him. Throwing his head back, Daeron let out a moan of pure pleasure.
Keeping his hands on her hips, he watched as she got comfortable. Not too long after, she began to move. There was no reason behind the way she moved her hips, letting pure passion and feeling guide her movements.
Daeron’s head rested on her shoulder. His deep breaths fluttered against the hairs of her neck. She tangled her fingers into his messy golden-brown locks holding onto him tightly as she pleasured herself on him.
“Do you feel good?” She wondered aloud.
She wanted to please him. Make him feel as good as she felt. But it was hard to read him when he wrapped himself around her.
Daeron’s lips pressed against her neck, before mumbling his words into her skin. “Don’t worry about me darling, focus on yourself”
Her hips slowed to a stop as her confidence waned. While he was being polite, she understood the meaning behind his words.: He didn’t. Daeron pulled away from her neck, realizing that he should’ve kept his shut.
“I want to please you.” She told Daeron, wishing to know what she should be doing differently.
“With time.” He tried to reassure her.
She would be lying if she said her inexperience was an insecurity. Daeron was a notorious rake, sleeping with many women throughout his life. With women who too had slept with many men. Women who have learned how to please.
“We’ve been married for a year, I should know this.” She said with a frown. “I know your history with the brothels. I just want to please you like-”
“Shh, none of that.” Daeron was quick to cut her off. Caressing her cheek, he looked deeply into her pained eyes. “Do not compare yourself to them. You are my wife, not a woman I bought. Your pleasure is my pleasure.”
Her eyes looked away from him. Daeron’s words only brought her some comfort. While Daeron had wanted to marry her, the marriage was still forced. The small voice in her head whispered in her ear that if he was not pleasing him properly, he would venture back into those beds.
“My light, look at me.” Dearon pleaded, pulling her gaze toward him once more. Daeron rested his forehead against her, practically pleading for her to understand how deeply he felt. “I know I have been the worst husband. But I promise to you that I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you, because you are my love, the light of my life, and now that I have had you, I will never be able to have another woman. No one can compare to you.”
Her frown wavered, as she could not hold back the small smirk from forming on her lips. She could tell that his words were genuine. She gave him a soft peck on the lips before relaxing her body once more.
“I still want to please you.” She told him. “I wish to make you finish inside of me. I want to have a child with you.”
Daeron had a hard time saying no to a wish like that. “I will guide you, if that is what you want”
“I would like that.” She responded with a small nod.
“Make sure that you are enjoying yourself as well." Daeron clarified, knowing that he had not been thinking of her the last time they had been together like this “I have been selfish enough with you. You deserve to be selfish with your pleasure.”
“I will.” She said.
Daeron’s hands slipped down to her butt, grabbing the underside lightly to show her how she should move her hips against him. Their faces were held close together, yet not touching. Breaths mingled between them.
Their breaths grew louder as she began to find a rhythm. Wanting him deeper, she pushed her knees further apart. Daeron threw his head back in pleasure, not hiding his moan.
“Ah fuck.” Daeron’s grip on her body tightened as he guided her to continue. “Keep doing it just like that.”
“Maybe this time the gods will bless us with a child.” She chuckled out the thought, leaning toward him more “Because we are no longer sinning.”
“You feel too good for it not to be a sin.” Daeron responded mindlessly.
“Gods I want a child with you.” She pleaded with him, practically begging. “Please Daeron.”
“I will give you whatever you want.” Daeron promised.
Her movements began to lose its rhythm as she felt the pit of her stomach tighten before finally letting go. The way her walls fluttered around him made it impossible to hold back, spilling his seed inside of her.
Leaning her weight onto Daeron, she caught her breath. Daeron wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her tightly against him, never wanting to let go. Once she had recovered, she sat up straight in Daeron’s lap, embracing his lips in a kiss.
“I am happy that I married you.” She sighed against him.
Daeron smirked at her. “I am the luckiest man in the realm to have you.”
-ˋˏ ༻𖤓༺ ˎˊ-
Hello all!!! I am so so so sorry for not getting to this any sooner! I had finals and then I traveled for like two months straight- But im home, i finished this fic, and I am happy that i have completed yet another fic, yet saddened that this one is over!
I do not plan on writing anything more for these two, but i will say that MC and Daeron have 4 daughters. The youngest ends up falling in love with Ruben Flint's son and it causes a lot of family drama (understandably) but love always wins in the end!
I am gonna be taking a small break from the ASOIAF fandom, as I really need to focus on my Reiner fic, but I am trying to come up with a story for Gwayne bc hes just so fine-
Anywyas, thank you all for reading this fic, and making it this far, i truly have enjoyed reading all of your comments! If you wish to keep up with me/my other fics, please contact me through my discord server!!!discord.gg/NVjKHZuxeu
Until next time!!
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About: Daeron dreamed of the same woman for ten years, saving him from his horrific nightmares. He knew her, but never met her before. No dreams could predict what would happen when he finally finds her in the most unexpected situation.
I do not read the books. I am basing most of the fic off of own personal beliefs of his character, and what I have seen so far in the show. (i do a bit of research here and there though.)
no use of Y/N
Chapter 9: What Makes a Cage, a Cage?
Word count: 4,644
<- Previous
When Daeron left her in the dark of night, he didn’t just return to his room, but left King's Landing entirely. She was informed of the prince’s absence the next morning when she was woken up by her maid.
It seemed that she was the only one that was confused by this action of his. It was one thing to avoid her, but running away was completely ludicrous. Everyone in the court blamed her, saying things such as: ‘Of course he ran away, have you heard about his wife?’.
A manhunt began, in hopes of finding the prince to return him home safely. Even prince Maekar left to look for his son. Even though she knew it wasn’t her fault, she still couldn’t help but feel guilty.
She wondered what made him hate her so, what made him decide to run from her in the middle of the night. She could tell that the drunken words he spewed to her were a lie, just something to make her fall into a false sense of security so she would allow him in her. Still, she wanted to see him, to talk to him.
In the past, she thought that if they had been physically separated, it would have helped the situation somehow. That if she left, her life would be better. Now she could tell that it was not the answer. For either of them.
Even though she didn’t believe in the gods all too much, she couldn’t help but pray to them. Praying for them to return her husband back unharmed so they may sew the torn seam between them. Getting the answers she so desperately needed.
The gods answered, but they didn’t fulfill her wish wholly.
When she heard of the news, it was the middle of the night. She had asked her maid to wake her if there was any new information on Daeron’s whereabouts. The moment the maid called out her name in a quiet wisp, she knew he had returned.
Wasting no time to go to him, she didn’t even let her maid finish the sentence, getting up and running to his room. She knew she looked like a madwoman, bolting down the hall as if she were a child. But she didn’t care, she wanted to talk to Daeron. She needed to see him.
Being so caught up in the moment, she didn’t even bother knocking, barging into the room. She expected Daeron to be there, tired, and most likely drunk. What she wasn’t anticipating was the horde of maesters surrounding the bed.
Prince Maekar stood at the foot of the large mattress, blocking her view of what laid past him. Everyone noticed her enter, turning their heads to see.
The maesters were quick to signal the prince, before turning back to Daeron’s limp body. Following their command, Maekar began to walk to her. She tried to move away from him, hoping to get a glimpse of her husband, but Maekar was quick to block her view.
“What is going on?” She looked at Maekar, needing answers.
“Let’s go outside.” Maekar said, grabbing her shoulder lightly to usher her outside.
“Is Daeron alright?” She wondered, passing under the doorframe.
Panic began to set in. Never before had she seen the old prince so disheveled and worried. Something was wrong, very wrong.
She couldn’t help but feel as though it were all her fault. If she refused to marry Daeron, if she had forced him out of her room that night, he would have never run away. He would have been safe.
Maekar began to explain that Daeron was found on the side of a dirt road just outside of Duskendale: He was without a horse; They found no money on him; And his clothes were torn. Bruises and cuts littered his body.
Worst of all, Daeron was passed out, and nothing could wake him.
The maesters said it was a miracle that he lived. If he had returned to the palace any later, there was no doubt that he would have died.
“May I see him?” She begged. “Please.”
“I do not believe you would want to see him in such a state.” Maekar tried to convince her otherwise.
“I am his wife.” She reminded Maekar, even though Daeron didn’t act as though they were married. “I want to see what has become of my husband.”
With a deep sigh, Maekar rubbed his tired eyes. He didn’t have the heart to reject her, knowing that if he were in her position, he too would demand to see. “Alright. We need to stay out of the maester’s way as they do their work.”
She nodded her head in agreement, following Maekar back into the room. Even though she wanted nothing more than to see him, after hearing of the state Daeron was found in, scared her greatly.
Hiding behind Maekar, they stood at the end of the bed. With a deep breath, she moved to be beside her father-by-marriage. Stunned at the horrific sight, she had to cover her mouth to stop herself from making a noise and disrupting the maesters.
Daeron laid barren on the bed, allowing his beaten body to be freed. There were multiple cuts: The largest one spanning across his chest, down to his abdomen; The smallest ones were only the size of a pinky, scattered all over. Many purple bruises strewn over his body, but the darkest one was around his ribs. She could see the broken bone trying to push out of his skin.
One maester worked on sewing the wounds, while the other tried cleaning the blood. The last maester focused on making different salves to apply to the wounds so they would not get infected.
All she could do was watch, praying to the gods that they would allow him to live. Allow them to talk and come to an understanding so they may go back to the way they were before.
After the maesters had finished, she was left alone with Maekar, and Daeron’s unconscious body. When asked when he would wake again, the only answer that could be given was: When the prince is ready.
A chair had been dragged next to Daeron’s head. She sat in it and stared, hoping that at any moment he would wake. The longer she waited, the more she spiraled, telling herself that it was all her fault.
That her husband would die, because of her.
“This is all because of me.” She said aloud as the tears built on the brim of her eyes.
“Do not blame yourself.” Maekar tried comforting her, placing a strong hand on her shoulder. “He has done this many times, long before he met you.”
“But this time it was due to me.” Her tone came out angrier than intended. “And now he is laying in this bed with no signs of life.”
A lump of silence laid between them for a moment. Maekar didn’t wish to argue with her, knowing that no matter what he said, she would blame herself. After a deep breath, Maekar was able to ask the question he had for months.
“If I may ask,” Maekar’s voice was quiet, not knowing if he wished to know. “What caused you two to distance yourselves from one another?”
“I do not know.” Her composure broke as the overwhelming emotions bubbled up. The words were breathy and filled with stutters, but still, she was able to get them out. “One day he was begging me to run away with him, and then the next he was refusing to marry me.”
Maekar made the odd comment, “He must have had a dream.”
“A Dream?” She wondered in between shaky breaths. Tears stained her face as the liquid dropped into her lap.
Daeron had mentioned his dreams when he came to her room that night. But when she asked questions, he never clarified. It made her think about what kind of dreams could affect him so strongly that would cause him to ignore her. They were just dreams, right?
“They are beyond my understanding.” Maekar shook his head lightly, gaze making its way over to Daeron. “He dreams of things that haven't happened yet.”
“Like a prophet?” She asked, needing more clarification.
“In a way.” Maekar told her, looking sadly at his son’s bruised body. “He has never been able to understand what they mean.”
“So you believe he dreamed of me?” She turned to look at Maekar, needing to see it in his face as well.
“Most likely.” Maekar told her, looking at her before his attention traveled back to his son.
She looked over at Daeron, contemplating what he had seen. Did Daeron dream of her death? Something horrific that happens to her. Or was it that she did something wrong? Was he scared of getting hurt by her?
She tried to think back onto the other things he said that night. The only other word that stood out was: cage. Did Daeron have a dream about being caged? Was she the one that did it? Does Daeron hate her because he feels as though she tried to trap him into the marriage, just as the courts believe?
There were too many questions, none of which could be answered until he woke up.
“I am sorry it has come to this.” Maekar’s tone was sadder than before. “If he dies, I will not throw you to the streets or send you back to your parents.”
Those words were not as comforting as he thought they were. Being stuck here, thrown to the streets, or sent back to her parents. It didn’t matter, they were all the same. She would still feel sad, feeling as though she didn’t belong.
Worst of all, if Daeron died, she would never understand what he saw. They would never be able to smooth out their rigid relationship. That is what haunted her the most.
Still, she didn’t wish to tell that to Maekar, making him feel worse than he already did. All she could say to him was, “Thank you.”
‧₊ ♪˚⊹
Never once did she leave Daeron’s side, practically living in the chair stationed next to his bed. When she ate dinner, it was in his room. Eventually, when she grew tired from staring at him all day, she would lay down on the couch.
Sometimes, when she felt lonely enough, she would lay beside him on the empty space of the bed. When she did that, it was the only time she hoped Daeron wouldn’t wake up while she was there. Fearing he would just run as he had done before.
When looking at him, she pretended like everything was alright: That he was just sleeping and would wake in the morning with her; That he had wanted her there; When he opened his eyes, he would smile warmly at her, leaning in for a kiss to greet her.
But it never came.
Hours turned into days. Days turned into a week. In the blink of the eye, weeks had flown by like they were nothing. To her, it felt as though it was twenty years, and only a few minutes at the same time.
To try and fill her time, to focus on something other than the impending doom of Daeron’s last breath, she would read. The comfort of the fictional world helped her forget the distressing truth of reality.
When she read, she would become completely inthralled with the story, hoping to never stop, so she may stay in that whimsical world. Focusing on the words stained into the parchment, she didn’t even notice Daeron stirring in his place, eyes cracking open ever so slightly, turning to see who was with him.
“My love? You’re here.” Daeron whispered quietly, voice hoarse and deep from not being used in quite some time. “Why?”
Even with his injuries, he tried to move. Hoping to lean against the headboard, he groaned in pain. She was quick to discard her book, allowing it to fall onto the floor as she leaped toward him.
“Shhh.” She hushed him, trying to calm him down. Her hands reached to his bare chest, lightly pushing him down on the bed. “Don’t move too fast, it will make things worse.”
“What happened?” Daeron asked, looking around, attempting to get a hold on where he was, and how he had gotten there.
“You have as much of an idea as I do.” With Daeron more settled, she moved back to her chair, scared of being too close. “You were found beside a road, half dead.”
“Fuck. I think I was robbed.” Daeron rubbed his eyes, trying to remember what happened. “How long have you been here?”
She looked down at her hands, fingers playing with one another. She didn’t know why she was scared to tell him, maybe he would be disgusted that she was so close for so long. “Since you were returned to the palace.”
“When was that?” Daeron questioned.
“Three weeks ago.” She quietly told him.
“Gods.” Daeron sighed out
To him, he was struck in the head by some random man. Then all of a sudden, he woke up at home, with his wife sitting beside him. It was hard to comprehend that he had been asleep for weeks.
Silence fell between them as she didn’t know what to do, what to say to him. For three excruciating weeks, she had come up with many things she wished to tell him once he was conscious. But now that he was awake, her mind had gone blank.
“Let me go get the maesters.” She stood from her chair, to go find them.
“No.” Daeron was quick to grab at her arm, stopping her from going further. The pain that followed caused him to yelp, but retreat.
With her free hand, she pried Daeron’s grip off her wrist, laying it gently on his chest. “Daeron, they need to make sure that you are okay.”
“Just stay here. Please.” He begged. “Only for a bit.”
Now that she was closer, she could see the wetness building in his pleading eyes. She couldn’t say no, couldn’t leave him, when he asked for her to stay beside him. It was all that she wanted for the past few weeks, past few months even.
Sitting down beside him, she went back to thinking of what to say. How to bring the topic up. Daeron only watched her. Knowing she had something to say, he waited for her to speak up.
With a deep sigh, she started the conversation the only way she could come up with. “Why do you hate me?”
“I don’t ha-” Daeron tried to denounce her feelings.
“Stop lying to me. Please.” It came out more aggressive than intended, but it got the point across.
Daeron paused for a moment, not knowing how to navigate the situation. “I mean it when I say I don’t hate you.”
“You fled my room and put yourself in danger to get away from me.” She pointed out, trying to make him understand how it looked. How it made her feel.
“I hate myself.” Daeron finally admitted. He looked away from her in shame. “I was disgusted that I touched you like that. After everything else I have done. Drunken no less.”
“So you ran away?” She wished to confirm exactly what he had done, wondering if he was planning on coming back at some point.
“You didn’t deserve that,” Daeron sadly told her, owning up to his actions for the first time in their relationship. “I don’t deserve you.”
“No you don’t.” She agreed. After everything, he truly didn’t. But after weeks of fearing his death she realized that she still wished to be with him. To stay by his side.
As the memories flooded into his brain, he was able to recall the smaller details of that night. Snapping his head over to her, he was quick to ask, “Are you pregnant?”
“Is that really important right now?” She snarily asked. Biting the inside of his cheek, she told him the truth. “I am not.”
Daeron’s body relaxed as he let out a deep sigh.
Both times they had sex, Daeron stressed about her getting pregnant. Since they were being open with one another, she decided to bring it up next. “Why do you wish so badly to not have a child with me?”
“I want nothing more than to have a child with you.” Daeron said dreamily, like he was imagining them creating life together. Quickly, his expression turned sour, before he said, “But I mustn't, to protect you.”
“You keep saying that, but I truly do not understand what you mean.” She told him.
“I am cursed.” Daeron was saddened by the fact. “I do not wish for that curse to spread to you, let alone a child created by the both of us.”
She could tell that he wanted it: to be with her, to have a child with her. But he couldn’t. He was scared of harming her or the child. Even so, he still hurt her. To her, it would be better to be cursed with Daeron, rather than alone in this big world.
“Is this about the cage you’ve mentioned?” She wondered, going back to the things he said that night
Daeron groaned, knowing that it would be hard for him to talk about. “Can you get me some wine before we start talking about this?”
“No. You become dismissive whenever you drink.” She shot him down quickly. “I deserve answers.”
“You do.” He took a deep breath, trying to formulate his thoughts, a right way of explaining it to her. “I have dreams that become real.”
“Your father told me a few weeks ago.” She admitted, not wanting him to go through the effort to explain something she already knew. “Did you have a dream with me?”
Daeron nodded his head slowly at her, before clarifying, “But not like my other ones. You were always embedded with my dreams.”
“How so?” She tilted her head in curiosity. When Maekar told her of the dreams, she thought he saw her doing something, or something happening to her.
Daeron pauses. He was never able to explain them in a coherent way, let alone to the love of his life. The one who saved him many times from his own demise. “My dreams are shrouded in horrifying symbolism. But every once in a while, there would be a light, with the beautiful sound of humming emerging from it.”
She stayed quiet, letting him continue. Fearing if she said anything, made a noise, it would scare him away, and she would never get the chance to speak to him again.
Daeron’s brows furrowed, clearly distraught over the images he was remembering. “Everything tried stopping me from going to it, but it never deterred me.”
His expression calmed as an almost sad, relieved smile dusted his lips. “When I would grab it in my hand, the horrors around me would melt away. The sun shone brightly in the clear sky. There you would sit in the courtyard of the Red Keep, basking in the beauty of the sun. Everything was perfect. You were perfect. It made me feel at peace unlike the dreams that came before it.”
Tears brimmed the corners of her eyes. The picture Daeron painted was beautiful. She had never imagined he saw her in such a way. It made her heart clench, knowing he did care, that his distance was not because of his hatred toward her.
“You were caged in by the branches of the weirwood tree.” Once more his demeanor turned sour, remembering how poorly he misinterpreted the dream. How he ruined her life by trapping her into the marriage. “I always wanted to break you out. To save you from whatever trapped you. But I never could.”
“How does that all relate to the real world?” She wondered, still not understanding how it caused Daeron to act the way he did.
“I thought Ruben was your cage. You just seemed so unhappy with him. So I pursued you, thinking that I was helping.” Daeron was ashamed to admit it. “I was stupid to ever think that. To think that I could change fate. I realized, after we were caught, that I in fact was the cage I tried desperately to keep you out of.”
“And so you ignored me?” She asked. Even if he was the cage, it wasn’t that they were forced to marry that caused her to feel as such. It was the way he acted afterwards.
“I sound crazy.” Daeron huffed. Rubbing his face, he felt as though he was doing a horrible job at explaining. How does one put something indescribable into words?
“No you don’t.” She was quick to comfort him, praying he would not shut down again. “It kinda makes sense.”
“Really?” Daeron wondered, not believing her.
“You wanted to make sure that I wasn’t trapped.” She told him the understanding she had of the situation.
“Yes.” Daeron sighed in relief. Turning to her with more hope than before, he reached out for her hand. “You’re amazing, and so beautiful. I don’t understand why you loved me back. You have to believe me, all I wanted was for you to be happy.”
Something calmer sat in her chest as her muscles relaxed. Accepting his hand into hers, she stood from her chair, laying her weight on the very edge of his bed. Needing to be closer to him, but not too close that she could agitate his injuries.
Her fingers traced over his knuckles in circles. “Have you ever thought that the reason why I’ve felt caged is because of the way you have been acting since we married?”
“I-” Daron stuttered out, eyes going wide, but he quickly shut his mouth.
“Daeron.” She cut him off, needing to explain it to him. “If you just treated me like you did when we first met, I never would have felt the despair I have been feeling for months. I would have been happy. With you.”
Daeron went quiet. His jaw slacked forcing his mouth open as he stared at her in disbelief. It was as though she had just changed his entire viewpoint of something that was so fundamental to his being.
“Fuck.” He moaned, hiding his face in his hand in horrific embarrassment.“I really am the worst husband.”
“What did you think would happen?” She softly asked, wishing to know where his head was at. “By ignoring me.”
“I don’t know.” He mumbled before lifting his head to look at her. Tears brimmed the corner of his eyes. “I thought, maybe, if you never got pregnant, and I just died, there would be nothing tying you to the crown. So you could go and live the life you want, the life you deserve.”
“Did you ever think that maybe the life I wanted was to be beside you?” It was strange to her, that he thought she wouldn’t want that, when she never showed him otherwise.
“Why would anyone wish to place themselves beside me?” Daeron mumbled.
His shoulders were slumped as his head hung low. It was clear in his demeanor that he truly believed no one would ever want him. That he believed he didn’t deserve to have anyone. It saddened her, especially since, after everything, she wanted to be.
“I wanted to be with you, to continue to grow the connection I felt.” She told him.
“And then I messed it all up.” Daeron pointed out.
While she was wishing to help him, she wasn’t going to make the ugly reality, pretty. “Yeah, you did.”
Daeron’s hands squeezed hers lightly, needing her to understand his seriousness. “I’m so sorry. Please, let me make this up to you.”
She paused, trying to think of what he would need to do in order to win back her trust. She had forgiven, it wasn’t his fault that he was plagued with knowing the future without understanding it. But Daeron had proved that he would be there for her, even if things got hard.
“You can start by actually interacting with me.” It was simple, but was the foundation for everything else to come.
“Yes. I will be at your side all day and night.” Daeron told, ready to follow her around like a dog.
She chuckled at him, believing he was just joking with his enthusiasm. "That's a bit much.”
Daeron was serious. He would run through the castle naked if that was what it took to make up for everything. “What else?”
“You must promise that whenever you have dreams or fears like this ever again: You will talk to me first. I am your wife, we are supposed to work together.” She wanted to be there for him. To make it where he didn’t feel as though alcohol and running away was the only way to handle things.
Daeron knew it would be hard, but he was willing to do it, for her, for them. “How did I get so lucky to have a wife like you?”
“It wasn’t luck.” She pointed out. “You just didn’t leave my bed that night.”
At the time, he was disgusted with his actions, for putting her in such a position. But now, he started to feel otherwise. “Maybe it was for the best.”
“You will have to prove that to me.” She told him with a small smile.
“I am truly sorry for everything.” Daeron told her with sincerity, ready to do whatever it took to win her back. “I know I have done nothing to make you believe in me. But I promise that from this point on, I will be there for you.”
His purple eyes stared into her with such certainty. Daeron meant it, he was ready to try. Ready to act like her husband. It felt as though a boulder was lifted off of her and she was born anew.
After months of crying herself to sleep, she was finally given real hope. One that was strong and wouldn’t fade quickly like the others. She couldn’t help but let out a sob. Not because she was sad, but because she was overwhelmed with happiness.
“Shit. No, no, no. Don’t cry.” Daeron was quick to sit up, even through the pain. “What did I do? How do I fix it?”
Daeron cupped her face in his hands, caressing her cheeks lightly. He searched her eyes, trying to find the answers to his question, in them.
“It’s not that. I promise.” She said with a small smile. “It just makes me really happy to hear you say that.”
She leaned him back down, not wanting him to injure himself further. Walking to the other side of the bed, she laid next to him, needing to be close. With their eyes they made a promise. A promise to be there for each other. To talk to one another. To love.
“I know I don’t deserve it.” Daeron quietly whispered, fearing rejection. “But please, may I steal a kiss.”
Her lips turned into a shy smile as she nodded her head at him. Leaning into Daeron, she connected their lips. It wasn’t like the one they shared a few weeks ago, drunken and needy. Or the first one they shared for their own selfish desires.
This time, they were truly doing it for each other. To show the other their love. Their commitment to the marriage. That from now on, no matter what happened, they would face it all together.
“Fuck I love you so much.” Daeron moaned into her mouth. “You don’t even understand.”
Pulling away slightly, she rested her forehead against his. “Prove it. Alright?"
“As you wish, my light.” Daeron promised.
Next ->
-ˋˏ ༻𖤓༺ ˎˊ-
I am so sad that this fic is coming to a close, but i needs to end at some point. I hopw you liked this chapter!!! they are finally talking again and next chapter everything will be good again <3
I dont have anything new planned at the moment, but i have absolutly loved writing for the asoiaf universe. If you want to stay up to date on new fics of mine, i suggest joining my discord server!! or if you just wanna talk, I would love that as well! https://discord.gg/NVjKHZuxeu
thank you all so much for leaving comments and supporting this fic!
love you all!
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About: Daeron dreamed of the same woman for ten years, saving him from his horrific nightmares. He knew her, but never met her before. No dreams could predict what would happen when he finally finds her in the most unexpected situation.
I do not read the books. I am basing most of the fic off of own personal beliefs of his character, and what I have seen so far in the show. (i do a bit of research here and there though.)
no use of Y/N
Chapter 8: A Plea for Change
Word count: 3,071
Smut Below
<- Previous
The idea of running away and becoming a prostitute began to sound like a reasonable idea. Most days she couldn’t get out of bed, let alone leave her room. It was a feat if she sat on the couch instead.
The help began to worry for her, as they did things in an attempt to brighten her mood. The most recent one was a new book. One she had mentioned being interested once before when she first arrived.
Her hand maid had found it, ordering it to be delivered to her. When gifting the present, her maid only had one condition: she must not read it in bed.
It was a good ploy, one that worked perfectly. She found herself sitting on her couch every night, using the light of the moon to illuminate the page. For the first time in weeks she felt at peace, the slightest sliver of joy.
And of course, when anything was starting to go right for her, Daeron had to come along to ruin it.
Barging through her door, he didn’t even bother knocking. The way he tripped over himself, using the door as a brace, she could tell that he was drunk. Like always. She wished to have been surprised, shocked that he would only come to her after drinking copious amounts of alcohol.
“What are you doing here at this hour?” Her tone was deep, upset that he would come to her. After weeks since their last meeting, months after their wedding, now he had the audacity to darken her doorstep.
“My light, I am sorry that I have dimmed you.” Tears built up in the corners of his eyes as he sobbed out.
“What?” She questioned, not understanding what he was on about now. Placing the book on the table, she didn’t wish for it to somehow get ruined.
Daeron left the comfort of the doorway, dragging his shoes against the carpet as he made his way over to her. She didn’t move, believing he would keep his distance like he had for half a year.
But she was wrong. Falling to his knees, he sat in front of her. Before she had the time to move away, he wrapped his arms around her calves, trapping her in place. His face landed in the crevices between her thighs, ruffling the fabric of her dress.
“Get off me.” She demanded, pushing his head away from her body.
It was too much for her. Going from running away, to landing at her feet and using her legs as a pillow, was very disorienting. Even though she pushed him off of her, he didn’t get the hint, using the palm of her hand to support the dead weight of his thick head.
Daeron’s eyes were red, bringing out the violet in his eyes. Snot dripped down his nose as his lips were shiny, coated by saliva. It was clear that he had been sobbing for a while before he decided to stumble into her room.
“Your maid- she told me.” Daeron stuttered out, attempting to catch his breath. “It’s all my fault.”
“We have established that.” She told him plainly. “It is nothing new.”
Daeron made it obvious that he wasn’t going to run any time soon. Letting go of his face, his head landed back into her lap. His body shook as he attempted to calm down. She wanted nothing more than to get up and leave him sobbing. But there was nothing she could do with the weight of a grown man holding her down.
But at the same time, her heart clenched for him. She didn’t know why. She knew she shouldn’t feel bad. That he was the one that caused the wedge between the two of them. That he was the reason why she cried herself to sleep every night.
He never seemed to care before now, so why would she?
“You don’t understand.” He muttered the words into the fabric on her thighs. “All I wanted to do was save you.”
There he went on again. Pretending to be her great savior, while it was he who was the one she needed to be saved from. It was aggravating how he proclaimed to be doing it for her benefit, when it was really for his own.
“From what?” She asked.
For the first time since they got married, he was opening up to her, answering the questions she so desperately needed to hear. Even though she wished to leave, she needed to stay and hear his explanation.
“The cage.” He sobbed while lifting his head to look at her.
His words were true, whatever they meant. This cage he talked of was something he believed was real. She could see it in his eyes, the fear he felt from the bottom of his soul. Yet, she didn’t understand what exactly he meant.
“You’re not making any sense” She told him, in hopes of him explaining more.
Though, in Daeron’s drunken state, no explanation would fully make sense. “My dream’s. I wanted to save you like you saved me.”
The tears slipped from his eyes, sliding down his cheek and pooling on the bottom of his chin. She stayed quiet, trying to get a look into his mind through his dilated pupils. He looked up at her, begging for her to believe him.
“I thought I was saving you. I was wrong.” He sobbed. “I was- am- the cage that keeps you trapped. I didn’t want this for you.”
Still, his words were not connecting with one another, but she did get a clearer picture. She truly did feel trapped in the marriage, in the castle. At least Daeron recognized that. It relieved her slightly knowing that her pain and suffering weren’t going unnoticed. Yet, he didn’t do anything to try and fix it.
Maybe this was him trying to fix it.
“Daeron-”
Before she could get her sentence out, he surged toward her, connecting their lips. It was the first time Daeron had shown her any form of affection since the night they slept with one another.
A kiss. Just like the one that started it all. A desperate plea for help. A way to show one’s feelings in a way that couldn’t be expressed by words. She could hear it in the way he pressed into her.
Daeron was desperate. Desperate for her affection. Desperate for her apology. All of the built up emotions from the past couple of months spewed from his lips, into hers.
Part of her wished to push him away. Yell at him for daring to do such a thing, after the way he had been treating her. But under his touch, she was weak. She needed it as much as he did.
His hands slid up her legs, dragging her skirt up from the floor. She didn’t do anything to stop him. The feeling of being wanted, after months of thinking she was nothing more than a nuisance was validating. All she could do was take his love. Hoping and praying that it would not end with everything going back to the way it was before.
“I want you.” Daeron mumbled into her lips.
Daeron’s hands snuck under the bunched fabric, feeling the bare skin of her legs. He stopped half way up her thighs, pulling away from her to nestle his head into the crux of her neck, breathing in her scent.
“I need you.” Daeron pleaded quietly, breath tickling the hairs of her neck. “Please let this shameful husband of yours have you.”
The thumping of her heart echoed against her rib cage. She was sure Daeron could hear it. She hesitated, wondering if she should say yes, if she wanted it. Sharing warmth with Daeron made her hopeful that things could be better, could be good.
Sheepishly, she nodded her head. Praying that this would fix things. That they would be able to come together. That Daeron would treat her as his wife, not his burden.
Daeron wasted no time getting under her skirt, placing his head in between her thighs. The fabric cascaded down his shoulders, hiding him away from her curious gaze. Grabbing her hip, Daeron shifted her to the edge of the couch, so he may have easier access to her. To devour her fully without anything impeding his actions.
“I’m a selfish, selfish man.” Daeron mumbled, mostly to himself.
Still, he delved into the heat that pooled between her legs. A gasp was let out from her throat as he licked between her folds. There was no rhythm, no attempt at pleasing her to reach an end.
Daeron drank her like he had been deprived of water for days. As if he would die if he didn’t hydrate himself off of her. He was greedy in the way that he licked her for his own pleasure.
Even though his goal was not to please her, he still did. Through the fabric of the dress, she held onto the top of his head. With her head thrown back, leaning onto the back of the seat, her chest rose rapidly as she moaned into the open air.
The sound of Daeron’s wet tongue mixing with the liquid dripping from within her, mingled with the moans that came from deep within. One of Daeron's hands trailed down his body, reaching in between his legs.
Freeing his cock from his trousers, Daeron rubbed his hardened length. He began to whimper into her. Whines, pathetic noises that vibrated in between her folds. It made her legs instinctively try to close, holding him there, trapping him.
Daeron’s free hand snuck up to her breast, squeezing it through her dress. She placed her hand over his, wishing to touch him in any way she could. She felt as though she was drowning in pleasure, finally being touched after so long.
She could tell Daeron was close with the way his moans grew in volume. His mouth was all over her vagina, licking, sucking, nibbling on every crevasse and fold. A jolt went through his body as he froze his movement. A string of deep guttural moans were felt against her wetness.
Thinking that her husband would continue and help her get off, she stayed still, waiting for him to calm down and continue. But to her dismay, he didn’t.
Pulling away from her, Daeron remerged, out from under her dress. The lower half of his face glistened from his messy eating. Breathing heavily, they stared at one another. She did not hide her clear displeasure. Her face held a deep frown while her eyes asked the question: Why did you stop?
Daeron clearly didn’t pick up on the clues given by her. His eyes were glossy. A haze draped over them as he swayed slightly. Still, she waited. Watching him carefully to see what he would do next. Hoping that things could turn around for the better.
Standing from his kneeling position, she took note of his cock still being hardened. Instead of pulling his trousers up and leaving the room, like she expected, Daeron leaned over her, going for her lips once more.
Due to her still sitting, she had to crane her neck up to meet his lips. The sour taste of herself spread across her tongue. She wished to run from it, to get it out of her mouth, but Daeron only subjected her to it more as he pushed his tongue past her teeth.
She whined, not used to the feeling. His tongue slithered around her mouth. She moved hers away from his, in hopes of not getting in the way. They breathed each other's air, mingling the hot, wet mess.
When Daeron moved away, she tried to chase him, follow him so she may never lose his warmth again. Even though he pulled away from the kiss, he didn’t go far, staying close to her.
“I am despicable,” Dareon sighed out. “A sick joke of a human being.”
She couldn’t respond. She didn’t wish to comfort him, to tell him that it was wrong. Because it wasn’t. All he did was state the truth, and she didn’t wish to lie. Any response would be ingenuine, so she thought it would be better to keep her mouth shut.
With his hands on her shoulders, Daeron led her to laying her back on the cushion of the couch. There was barely enough room for her, but Daeron found a way to wedge himself in between her legs, sitting on his heels as he pulled her dress up.
One of her hands held onto the edge of the couch bracing herself, while the other laid on her stomach. She felt the heat of his hard cock press in between her lips. A gasp escaped her throat as he pushed into her.
It was different from the first time they had sex. This time Daeron didn't enter her slowly, allowing her to adjust. He buried himself inside of her with haste, like he would die if he wasted a moment more.
Since it had been a while since their last time, her body wasn’t used to it. The hand that was on her stomach shot up to grab at him, needing to ground herself through the pain.
Daeron leaned into her grasp, moving to lay on top of her. His entire weight caged her against the couch. His breath tickled the hairs of her neck as he repositioned himself to fit into easier.
His hands traveled down her body, snaking under her body to grab at the skin of her butt, pulling it back so nothing would be able to get in the way of burying himself into her as far as he could physically go.
It was almost as if he was trying to crawl inside of her. To use her as a protection from the horrors of the outside world.
“I don’t deserve you” He moaned into her neck, rolling his hips slowly against her.
Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, hoping to keep him inside of her. She feared that the moment he stopped, he would leave her again, alone in the large castle. So she held on tight, as much as she could, so he may never escape.
Tears streamed down her face as a wave of emotion washed over her. Everything from the past few months had spilled over. Her moans were broken, sad, like a cry for help. A cry for Daeron to treat her properly. To keep thrusting into her to make it all right again.
He didn’t move from his position, keeping close, cradling her in his arms. He moved as he pleased, there was no reasoning to what he did. It was as though he wanted to feel her at every angle, every speed, feeling every bump and crevasse of her.
At that point, she didn’t care about the pleasure, about anything other than Daeron laying with her, being with her, staying with her. She would let him do whatever he wanted as long as it was with her.
Daeron’s hips began to rut into hers with desperation. Quick, short, powerful thrusts leading to his end. Whimpering into the skin of her neck, she felt liquid spill into her womb. She laid frozen, shocked that he would finish inside of her after how much he prayed for her not to get pregnant.
They breathed in unison, as they were one.
It frustrated her that he still didn’t take care of her pleasure, her end. But at least she had him.
“You are the air that I breathe.” Daeron tiredly mumbled to her. “The light of my life.”
She didn’t know whether to believe it or not. It felt as though he truly meant them. But at the same time, if she was: why would he run from her? Avoid her like she would burn him? She had never given him any reason to fear her.
“Then why?” She quietly asked him, hoping that now he would be more open to explaining in full detail.
But her question went unanswered. So she laid and waited to see what he would do next. Fearing that he would get up and leave her without another word, going back to how they were before.
His breath slowed to a calming rhythm. Shaking his shoulders ever so slightly, she called out to him. Still no answer. Daeron was dead asleep, his softened cock buried deep inside of her, keeping his seed from spilling out.
Lips drawing in a tight line, she didn't know what to do. There was no easy way to get him off of her. She was stuck there until he woke up. But at the same time, it wasn’t the worst fate in the world.
She couldn’t see his face, no matter how hard she tried. She hoped that it was peaceful, that he smiled, happy to be with her. Combing her fingers through his messy hair, she began to feel the exhaustion hit her as well.
With Daeron as a blanket, she fell into a warm slumber.
‧₊ ♪˚⊹
Her eyes shot open as she felt empty. A cold breeze flowed through her. Looking around she realized that she was alone. Daeron had left her. She began to wonder if he was even there in the first place. If she fell asleep while reading and dreamed of it all.
With haste, she lifted the skirt of her dress up, bridging her fingers to her vagina. She gathered some of the substance onto her fingers to inspect. There was no denying the events when his seed laid on her fingers, and deep within her.
It was crushing: To be left after she had been given the smallest sliver of hope. All feelings of relief during their moments together had flown away in the wind, leaving the soul crushing fact that nothing would change.
She felt used. Disgusted that she let him.
Not even being able to stand, she laid back down on the couch. The place she let him into her so vulnerably and got betrayed.
All she could do was cry. Holding onto herself in hopes to get any form of comfort. Time began to warp as all she could do was drown in despair. Eventually, she passed out from the overwhelming sadness. Leaping into the darkness that he had left her in.
Next ->
-ˋˏ ༻𖤓༺ ˎˊ-
This chapter came out more devastatingly than I was expecting- ANYWAYS next chapter they will finally talk!!! there will be a lot happening so i am expecting it to be along. and with finals coming up, it might be a couple of weeks until I can get to it.
Thank you all so much for reading and leaving your comments!! I love seeing what you all have to think, so please let me know your thoughts!!!
Love you all! <3
Taglist (If you wish to be added/removed from this list, comment or dm me):
About: Daeron dreamed of the same woman for ten years, saving him from his horrific nightmares. He knew her, but never met her before. No dreams could predict what would happen when he finally finds her in the most unexpected situation.
I do not read the books. I am basing most of the fic off of own personal beliefs of his character, and what I have seen so far in the show. (i do a bit of research here and there though.)
no use of Y/N
Chapter 7: Caged for All to See
Word count: 2,469
<- Previous
Months after their wedding, she had finally gotten settled into The Red Keep. The fruits of their first night together were barren, as she ended up not being pregnant. While it was a blessing, she also was devastated by the fact.
She did wish for a child, but now she knew that there would be no way of her having one, as Daeron was adamant to never getting her pregnant. All she could do was try to find the better things in life.
Even that was extremely difficult. When she moved to the palace, she had hoped to make friends. To find her people that would be there for her. Those dreams were crushed the moment she arrived.
She didn’t know how word of her and Daeron lying with one another out of wedlock spread, but she had her suspicions: Believing that the Flint sisters wrote to their friends at court to inform them of the actions of their new princess.
No one wanted to even give her a chance. The web of lies had been spun, growing larger and larger by the day. Some of them were absolutely ludicrous, while others were closer to the truth. No matter what was said, everyone believed it.
For months, she was the hot topic of the court. Just as the rumors calmed down, someone would make something new, and spread it around, causing all of the other lies to be dug back up.
Not even the other members of the royal family wished to associate with her. The only ones who knew the truth of the situation were Maekar and Daeron. Neither of them wished to correct the courts, defending her by admitting that it was Daeron who initiated the act.
The royal family was already a mess, the last thing they wanted was to make themselves look worse. So Maekar thought it easier for the blame to fall on her, not his son, or him for raising such a idiotic man.
She kept to herself, avoiding large crowds, spending most of the time in her room. The only people she would interact with were the help. Even though they would talk to her, she could never call any of them her friend. There was an imbalance that would never be changed, one that was not healthy for any true friendship.
The thing she hated the most was when she was forced out of her room and to stand beside the court that hated her so adamantly. Most of the time, she was able to escape the activity without upsetting anyone. But when the King called for everyone to listen to his decree, she would not be able to leave.
She preferred to stand in the back, avoiding the eyes of others. Even if there were no people standing behind her, her presence never went unnoticed. Seeing it all, she tried her hardest to ignore the sparing glances and words whispered behind hands.
Others didn’t have the decency to keep their decorum, gossiping for anyone to listen in on. She always felt as though when people acted as such, they were trying to get a rise out of her, hoping for her to lash out, so they had another reason to persecute her.
She was always able to keep her composure, somehow. That tended to lead to more rumors about how cold hearted, uncaring to the horrors she committed. But it was better than causing a scene.
‧₊ ♪˚⊹
The court had just been dismissed by the king. He had important information to share, forcing all of the nobility to crawl out of their hiding holes to listen. Her hopes to escape without anyone noticing her were only dreams.
Everyone in the court liked to mingle after these kinds of things, talking to one another and spreading their gossip even more. They stood around like a herd of sheep, blocking her exit.
“Isn’t that woman there one of the princesses?” A young lady of the court asked the friend that stood beside her. Her words were shrouded in wisps of air, clearly attempting to be quiet, yet failing miserably.
“Yes, she’s married to Prince Daeron.” The older friend replied.
She didn’t wish to hear it, knowing whatever the two women wanted to discuss about her would only darken her mood father more than it already was. But with all of the people that surrounded her, it was impossible for her to walk away without drawing more attention to herself.
All she could do was stand there, looking down at the ground as she hoped to blend in with the crowd and disappear. Her fingers danced around one another anxiously, attempting to take her mind off the voices that loomed from behind.
“Why does no one talk to her?” The young lady wondered.
“Have you truly not heard?” The older woman gasped in shock, excited to be the one to share the news of the princess’ mishaps. “She seduced the prince only a few nights before her wedding to Lord Flint’s son.”
“Really?” The young lady’s tone rose in surprise. It was clear she was happy to hear the information, ready to and spread the word to any who hadn’t known previously.
The older woman hums in confirmation, confident that it was true. “They were forced to marry. You can tell prince Daeron despises her with how much he actively avoids her.”
The worst part of it all was that none of it was true. It was a lie. But even if she spoke up now, they would not believe her. The most likely outcome of that would be them laughing in her face and running off to tell others what she had said.
“How awful of her to put a prince in that position.” The young lady said in disgust.
She could feel the eyes burrow into her shoulder blades. They were watching for a reaction, waiting to see what she would do or say. Keeping a close, calculated eye on her. She felt her lungs begin to shrink as it became harder to breathe.
“I know! Imagine what she would do to her friends if she had any.” The older woman scoffed at the idea.
Laughing, the young lady agreed. “Good thing no one wants to be friends with her.”
“Right?” The woman’s words came out louder than intended, drawing attention to herself.
Even though eyes were on them, they couldn’t help themselves from laughing loudly at the idea. Her having friends: What a joke, right? The courts were truly cruel, out casting anyone that stepped out of line.
Her only saving grace was the fact that people moved away from the laughing girls, not wishing their ears to be pricked by their high pitched cackles. It gave her the space she needed to squeeze past and make her escape.
As she did so, she was finally able to lift her head from the ground, eyes scanning the room for the nearest exit. To her greatest dismay, while quickly looking throughout the room, a disheveled Daeron caught her eye.
Daeron leaned against the wall of the court, hunched over as if he too wished to disappear. He talked to no one, so it was curious as to why he stood around. Daeron was never one to appreciate talking amongst the court, or being around them in general. Always taking off the moment they were dismissed.
It did seem as though there was a reason why he stuck around. Daeron’s eyes were trained tightly on her, as though he was inspecting every little detail from a far. It sickened her, the thought of Daeron watching as she got humiliated, and did nothing about it.
Humiliation rose to anger as his eyes trailed to meet her soured expression. Before she knew what she was going to do, she began to make long strides across the great hall. No longer caring about what the court would say, she knew she needed to talk to him.
It had been about a week since they last saw two another. Daeron did a very good job at avoiding her. Ever since they arrived at Kings Landing, Daeron had hidden in many different places, making it impossible for her to find him.
On the rare occasions that their paths accidentally cross, Daeron makes it a point to turn and run. There had only been a few times that she was able to exchange words with her husband. But the conversation never went far, as he was too drunk to form a sentence.
Now, he was clearly sober enough to stand, so he would have a decent enough mind to hold a conversation with her. She was determined to get everything sorted out. To get answers from him as to what had gone so horribly wrong.
Realizing that he was her target, he quickly looked around, trying to figure out how to get away before she arrived at her destination. While he wasn’t drunk, the alcohol in his system caused his mind to slow.
Before he could move, she had stopped right in front of him, arms crossed, clearly upset.
“We need to talk.” She told him, but it was more of a demand.
“I would love to but-,” Daeron attempted to find an excuse. A reason as to why he couldn’t be around her, “My father needs me.”
She didn’t believe a word that fell from his mouth. There was no way she would allow him to escape this, escape her. Taking the leap, she grabbed Daeron’s hand, holding it tightly in hers.
Unwillingly, he followed her as she tugged him through the hall, toward the doors. Eyes locked onto the two, as many began to whisper. While she cared deeply, she knew that things could not get worse than they already were.
So let them speak. Let them wonder why she was dragging an uncomplying prince out of the hall. Her hope was that the conversation would lead to something that could better her situation. Because she didn’t know how much longer she could take it all.
Daeron followed her quietly, not saying a word. While he never attempted to pry himself out of her grasp, she knew if her fingers released him, he would run from her. Causing her to be stuck in the same position.
Entering the art gallery, she believed that no one would find their way into the room and stumble upon their conversation. Part of her wished to keep a hold on his hand, to make sure that he would not scamper away. But she also knew that Daeron could not move when he was cornered, she definitely had him cornered.
Before talking, she took a few deep breaths, glaring at him. While she did so, she tried to find a way to start the conversation, to get him to answer her questions honestly, and not avoid the topic.
“I can’t keep doing this.” She stated.
“You wish to seek a divorce?” Daeron wondered. It was ironic, even though he was the one that drove her to this, he acted sad. Devastated by the idea of her wishing to leave.
“Well yes, but I know that is not possible.” She responded to him honestly. If he didn’t care about protecting her feelings, then she wouldn’t care about his. “I mean the court.”
Daeron relaxed ever so slightly. Yet, he was still confused as to the meaning of this meeting. “What about them?”
“They say I seduced you.” She explained.
Daeron did not answer with words, but he didn’t need to, his expression said it all. It wasn’t one of shock, like she was hoping. But one that seemed to agree with the lies the court had clung to.
“What is that supposed to mean?” The pain in her chest tightened, getting worse.
“I didn’t say anything!” Daeron tried to defend himself.
“No, but you made a face.” Her finger rose into the air, getting close to his nose, as she pointed at it accusatorily.
“What face?” Daeron questioned, truly not knowing what she was on about.
“Are you trying to say that I seduced you?” Her voice began to rise as the heat in her body boiled. “If anything, it was you who seduced me.”
“What do you expect from me?” Daeron asked, wishing for the conversation to end so he did not have to feel like a failure more than he already did. “The courts will believe what they want.”
“You are my husband, you are supposed to defend me, my honor. You’re a prince, they will believe your word over mine.” Her finger trailed down to his chest, poking at the fabric of his coat.
“They will never believe the word of a drunk.” Daeron explained the reason.
“You can at least try.” She pleaded. “I know you hate me-”
“I do not hate you.” Daeron was quick to cut off her words.
It was the same song and dance. He said one thing, but meant another completely.
“Stop lying to me!” She shouted. “You wanted to have sex with me. You wanted to ruin my betrothal with Ruben. The least you could do is try and calm the rumors that spread through the halls.”
“I never wanted this.” Daeron added.
“So what do you want?” She spat. “First you say you want to marry me, then when you get that, you act as though I have killed you. Plagued you to such a horrible life. When it is I who has suffered.”
“That is why I didn’t want to marry you.” He finally gave some reasonable explanation, yet it wasn’t enough at this point.
“It is done now. We are married, there is no changing that.” She tried to remind him. “The least you could do is treat me with some decency.”
“It would be best if you avoided me.” Daeron told her.
Her voice cracked as she continued to pry answers out of him. “Tell me what changed? What have I done to make you become cold?”
“It’s not you.” Daeron tried to comfort her, but it only caused her more distress.
“Then what?” She sobbed. “What do I need to do to fix this?”
As her composure crumbled away as she broke down. She could tell Daeron was becoming increasingly uncomfortable, but she couldn’t help it. After months of wondering, thinking that something could fix this, fix them, the dream had finally been crushed.
“There is nothing that can be done.” Daeron stated sadly, beginning to walk away from her. “It is above your understanding.”
She should have never talked to Daeron. She should have known that it would only make things worse. Sitting in the quiet room, all hopes of ever having a bearable life in the capital, married to Daeron, dissipated.
Next ->
-ˋˏ ༻𖤓༺ ˎˊ-
Hello All!!! This chapter was super hard to write because my life has been pretty hard and writing depressive stuff isn't helping lol. But i also wanted to write lol.
Things will get better from here!!!
hope you all enjoyed!!
Taglist (If you wish to be added/removed from this list, comment or dm me):
About: Daeron dreamed of the same woman for ten years, saving him from his horrific nightmares. He knew her, but never met her before. No dreams could predict what would happen when he finally finds her in the most unexpected situation.
I do not read the books. I am basing most of the fic off of own personal beliefs of his character, and what I have seen so far in the show. (i do a bit of research here and there though.)
no use of Y/N
Chapter 6: Clip Her Wings so She May Never Fly Again
Word count: 2,887
<- Previous
Lord Flint was truly a generous man, being the most forgiving person to have ever lived. Truthfully, he didn’t forgive her for the actions; For ruining everything that had been given to her when he could have taken, instead.
Still, he was kind. He chose to forgive her fathers debts, annulling any contract that had ever been written up. While it seemed as though everything would be fine, it was not. The village struggled, and now, they had no outside support. Being left to their own devices.
The only cruel thing Lord Flint had done was request that the crown didn’t give their support to the village. That only Daeron’s bride would be the one to receive royal treatment. Prince Maekar couldn’t refuse the request, it was the only way he could make up for his son's action.
With the new contracts written, it was set in stone. She would marry Daeron, separating herself completely from her family. Even though she would be a princess, her family won’t gain any advantage for marrying into the royal family.
Truly, the only one that gained anything from this was her. She knew how it looked, how the courts would see her: As an impudent woman who only did things that benefitted her, not caring how it affected others, how it affected her family.
That was far from the reality of it all. No one gained from the situation. It was a poor joke that the gods played, and they were the toys. Even though Daeron had proclaimed he wanted nothing more than to marry her, now he avoided her like the Great Spring Sickness.
It made her realize that her mother was right, even if she didn’t wish to believe it. Daeron never truly cared for her like he said, acting as though he never said the words ‘I love you’. It was sickening. After they had been caught, after their discussion, he had made it a point to voice his great disagreement for the marriage, even in her presence.
Part of her wished to call it off herself, so she didn’t have to marry a man who wanted nothing to do with her. But she had to think of herself, just as Daeron did when he entered her, taking her maidenhood.
If she called off the wedding, her parents would disown her. She would be thrown out of the town, forced to find her own way. That was the last thing she wanted. A woman, alone in the world, was one in constant danger. She would most likely have to turn to prostitution to have a roof over her head, and she didn’t want that.
There was still no confirmation if she were pregnant or not. The mere thought of having to give birth and raise a child on her own was terrifying. So the only option was to marry Daeron. Marry the man that wanted nothing to do with her. For her own survival.
At least, even if Daeron hated her, she would live as a princess: in a castle, no worries about food, and help to raise the child in her absent husband’s stead. Her life may not be perfect. There was no doubt she would have many struggles. But she knew she would be taken care of
Never before had she regretted an action so strongly. She should have known. Should have had the strength to say no, rather than so adamantly agreeing to the sin. But if sin wasn’t alluring, no one would do it. That is why it was a sin.
‧₊ ♪˚⊹
She and her family had left before the royals. Even though all of the preparations for a wedding had been made in Flint’s Fingers, there was no possibility of Lord Flint allowing the union to be made under his roof.
Kings Landing was too far, and with the possibility of a scandal as large as the one that was brewing, their marriage had to be soon. The only other place it could be hosted was her home. Thankfully it was on the way to Kings Landing. That would make the travel afterwards easier for the ones who would be heading to the capital.
Her wedding would not be as grand as she originally thought. Practically nothing due to it being thrown together last minute. The only thing she was able to keep from the wedding she was to have with Ruben, was her dress. As it could not be repurposed in any way.
Everything was bland: The half dead flowers that were gathered from the nearby field, the stained cotton cloth that hung from the ceiling, the torn tapestry that held their family’s crest.
The little money they had was spent getting to Flint’s Fingers and back. All they could do was ask the villagers for support, in hopes to decorate the hall decently enough for a royal wedding.
It was an insult, truly. First her father wasted all of their tax dollars on himself, and now he had the audacity to ask for more. To cater a wedding that wouldn’t even be saving them from their horrible situation.
Refusing, many of the villagers protested the wedding, promising to not even attend.
The message was loud and clear when the time finally came for the bride to walk down the aisle, when the only people in attendance were the personal friends of the family. Not even the other members of the royal family were able to attend, as there was not enough time for them to travel all the way out.
It was quiet, like most weddings during the ceremonies. The few people that decided to attend sat quietly in their seats. The old wood creaked under the shifting weight of the viewers. They were uncomfortable by the clear disinterest from the bride and groom.
It showed on their faces that neither of them wanted to be married. A wedding was a joyous occasion, one to be surrounded in excitement, representing a new chapter of their life. But now, they looked as though they were being sent to the gallows, that it was a death sentence to marry to one another.
Many didn’t know the true reason for the change of groom. Their lord lied to them, saying that the prince wished to marry his daughter instead, and he couldn’t refuse. The spectators could tell it was a lie just by the look on Daeron’s face.
When the septon requested they say their vows, it was done with whispered breath. They could barely hear themselves speak the promise to the gods, to each other. It was almost as if they didn’t mean the words they said.
As the sad ceremony came to an end, sparse, slow claps echoed throughout the empty hall. There was one last task that needed to be completed before they could feast. The thing that concluded it: a kiss.
Their hands were still held together, bound by the long sheet of cloth. Daeron’s hand was warm, slightly damp from being encapsulated in warmth for so long. He had successfully avoided her eyes until that moment.
When he looked at her, for the first time in weeks, he had frozen still. Daeron’s facial expression softened, almost giving a hint of a smile. Her heart fluttered against her ribcage, as hope filled her.
Daeron gazed at her like he did the first time they met, with such strong adoration. Maybe the past few weeks were just a snag. Maybe he didn’t regret his action. Maybe he won't despise being married to her.
Her lips almost upturned into a smile as he leaned into her. Eyes fluttering shut, she awaited for him to connect their lips into a kiss, like they did in the library.
Every hope and dream she held onto were shattered like a pane of glass as his head slid past her lips, ghosting a peck against her cheek. Heart clenching tightly in her chest as her lips deepened into a frown.
Pulling away from her, Daeron didn’t even give her the decency of looking at her once more. The septon untied their hands, declaring them now as they are, husband and wife. Daeron was quick to retract his hand to his side, like touching her scorched pale skin.
All she could do was stare at him in disbelief, tears brimming in the corner of her eyes. Walking down the aisle was more of a sprint, as she tried her hardest to get away from the prying eyes.
As she entered the empty halls of her home, she heard a voice call out to her. It was ironic that now, after everything, Daeron wanted to talk to her, to stop her from running from him. For weeks, it was all she wanted, for him to acknowledge her. But now that he was, it was the last thing she wanted.
Needing to cry, she didn’t want Daeron to see, he didn’t deserve to see her so vulnerable again. Running to her room, she shut the door behind her. Right as she made it to her bed, her legs gave out as she fell to the floor.
Using the mattress of her bed to muffle her cries, she released all the emotion that was building up over the weeks. There was no going back now. They were married, bound by duty for eternity. And Daeron could barely interact with her.
She didn’t hear the door opening over her own sobs. Only being alerted when the person who entered, spoke up.
“Darling?” Her mother asked softly.
Not wishing to be scolded any more, she sat up, wiping her eyes and trying to catch her breath. “Just give me a minute.”
“Oh sweetie.” Her mother sighed, walking toward her.
After all the weeks, the anger subsided. There was no point in kicking her while she was down. Now what was left was pity. No matter what, she was still her daughter.
Walking over to the bed, her mother knelt beside her on the floor. The presence of her mother only made her weak composure break once more. Even though she was a grown woman, she fell into her mother’s arms like a child, needing the comfort she had once gotten.
“You were right.” She sobbed into the fabric of her mother’s dress. “I was stupid for ever believing he loved me.”
“There is nothing that can be done now.” Her mother tried to console her with facts, but it was the last thing she needed.
It only made her cry harder, feeling crushed by the weight of reality. The last thing that kept her sane was the soothing strokes of her mother’s hands.
“Look on the brighter side.” Her mother tried another strategy. “You’ll be a princess. You will never have to worry about a roof over your head or food. Everything will be taken care of for you.”
“Yeah.” She sniffled, pulling away from her mother. “I guess you’re right.”
“The Red Keep is big, You will never have to see Prince Daeron unless you wish to.” Her mother added.
That comment made her feel calmer. It hurt worse when she was in the presence of Daeron, but if they lived their lives separately, it would be more bearable. She just had to get through the wedding and travel, then she would be free of all this pain.
Evening out her breath she began to calm down. Her mother never left, never pushed, sitting beside her and waiting for her to collect herself so they could return to the wedding.
‧₊ ♪˚⊹
The reception wasn’t much either. The dinners hosted at Flint’s Fingers were grander than this. To spare himself the embarrassment, their dinner was not held in the hall it normally would have, choosing the private family dining room.
Still, not even all the seats were filled. Daeron and his new wife sat beside one another, in the center. Both of their fathers sat at the head of the table. It was mostly silent, the echoes of silverware clinking against the plates filled the room.
Drink after drink, Daeron ordered the cupbearer over to refill his chalice. The drunker he got, the more her stomach stirred uncomfortably. Not too long ago did he come to her room looking for her bed, now he needed to be black out drunk to consummate their marriage.
Noticing the prince’s deeply intoxicated state, they all thought it would be best to end the reception early, before anything else became more disastrous. Thankfully enough for the married couple, there would be no bedding ceremony, no eyes to watch the depravity of their wedding bed.
Not having memorized the halls, and being too drunk to find his way around, Daeron followed quietly behind her as she walked them to her room. Not once did she glance back toward him. She knew if she did, she would retch all over herself and him.
All she could hope for was that he would have his way and finish quickly like he did the first time. That was the most preferable outcome.
Entering her room, she walked straight to her bed. Standing before it, she unclipped the chain that held his coat together. As there was no time for a special cloak to be used in the ceremony, the only thing they had to use was the one Daeron traveled with.
Taking a few deep breaths, she turned around. Daeron was heading to the door leaving without even coming close to touching her.
“Where are you going?” She asked, anger rising through her body.
Stopping suddenly, he realized that he was not able to escape without being caught. There was a moment of pause, as he thought about his words carefully. With a slight sway to his movements, he turned to her, giving the short explanation of, “My room.”
“You’re unbelievable.” She scoffed, rolling her eyes and looking away from him.
She should be happy, relieved that he was not going to enact their marital duties. But at the same time, it irritated her greatly. It wasn’t like they hadn’t done it. Truly she couldn’t understand what changed, what happened to make Daeron despise her. What did she do to deserve this?
“We leave early in the morning, you should get your rest before the long journey.” Daeron was clearly deflecting, coming up with an excuse as to why he needed to leave now.
“You could at least pretend.” She seethed. “Like before.”
While her hate for Daeron grew, she still craved his attention, his touch. There were too many conflicting emotions going through her body to fully comprehend it all. She just wished he would treat her with some decency, treat her like he did before, like his wife.
Daeron sighed in defeat. He was clearly tired, and way too drunk to come up with any meaningful response. “What do you expect from me?”
“I don't know, literally anything?” Her voice began to raise. She hated that he treated her as though she dragged him down the aisle, when it was his father that was forcing him.
“I am doing something.” Daeron gave his excuses, making it known he wouldn’t do what she was wishing for him to. “I am protecting you.”
She scoffed at his words. He kept claiming he was doing the right thing, protecting her from this unknown force. She knew it was a lie, a vague reasoning that he gave to make himself feel better. “From what? Truly?”
“Being tied to me for eternity.” He sadly explained, glancing at the closed door, wishing to escape quickly.
“Oh so you are going to seek out a divorce?” She asked, believing that is what he meant by his words. “We’ve barely been wed three hours and you are already done with me?”
“I did not say that.” Daeron quietly retorted, sounding unsure of himself.
“You sure do act like it.” She snarkily pointed out.
“I don’t want to get you pregnant." Daeron’s voice raised, conveying the truth.
“I might already be pregnant.” She shot back in disbelief. Not understanding why he so adamantly wished not to impregnate her.
“I am not going to have sex with you to guarantee it.” Daeron told her with finality.
Still, she refused to believe it. They had a duty to do. “It is our wedding night, we are supposed to consummate it.”
“It’s not like we haven’t already.” Daeron said plainly. It was the truth. The whole reason why they were in this mess was because they had sex. “And everyone knows we have. So there is no point.”
“Fine. Then get out of here!” She turned away from him, not being able to stand the sight of him. “I see how this marriage will be.”
The skidding steps of his boots echoed throughout the quiet room as he walked to the door. Metal hinges creaked, yet he didn’t leave, pausing in the doorway. She didn’t dare look, he didn’t deserve it.
“Goodnight.” He softly told her, barely above a whisper.
She didn’t respond, making it a point to show her anguish over the way he was treating her. Daeron left her with the click of the door. She was alone, and even though she was married, she knew she would be alone for the rest of her life.
Next ->
-ˋˏ ༻𖤓༺ ˎˊ-
Hello all!!! I am so sorry for taking so long to get this chapter out, school has been rough. This chapter was so hard to write because it was so sad. I wanted to write from the main character's persepective to show how much daeron had left her in the dark She she only thinks that she hates her, when in reality he is tryint to save her from the cage he saw in his dreams. BUT GOD IS IT SO SAD. My poor girl. The next few chapters will be much of the same until Daeron gets his act together
Please let me know your thoughts in the comments! I love hearing your opinions and it helps me stay motivated when I know there are people who are really enjoying the fic. Or if you wish to talk to me more personally, you can reach me through my discord!! (Link here: discord.gg/vN7De7PYbc)
Thank you for reading! Love you all!!!!!
Taglist (If you wish to be added/removed from this list, comment or dm me):
About: Daeron dreamed of the same woman for ten years, saving him from his horrific nightmares. He knew her, but never met her before. No dreams could predict what would happen when he finally finds her in the most unexpected situation.
I do not read the books. I am basing most of the fic off of own personal beliefs of his character, and what I have seen so far in the show. (i do a bit of research here and there though.)
no use of Y/N
Chapter 5: A Beautiful Cage is still a Cage
Word count: 5,426
<- Previous
The bright sun hit her skin, warming her body. Even without opening her eyes, she felt peace, comfort, like the Gods were embracing her, protecting her from the harsh world. She stirred in the bed, wishing to find the perfect position to fall asleep once more.
The creaking of the door opening echoed throughout the room, not even a knock came to warn her before the person entered. Teetering on unconsciousness, she couldn’t figure out what exactly was happening, nor did she care at the moment.
A sharp, painful gasp ripped through the air. The surprise of a woman who had found something she wasn’t supposed to. Her eyes opened, panicked to find Daeron’s peaceful face sleeping beside her. He was supposed to have left hours ago, before anyone woke.
Jolting up in the bed, she found Emely standing by the door. Both of the women were frozen still, staring at one another, trying to comprehend what exactly was happening, what had come to light.
The evidence was clear. She had slept with Daeron out of wedlock. Her breasts hung out in the open air, proving that they were both nude under the covers. Their clothes were strewn on the floor, exactly where they were left the previous night.
Still, through all of it, Daeron slept. None the wiser to the mess he was found in. It was sickening how peaceful he looked, almost as if he knew this exact thing would happen the moment he shut his eyes beside her.
“Emely” She croaked out, trying to somehow rectify the situation. “I-”
There were no words that would ever convince Emely to keep the secret to herself. She was Ruben’s sister. His loyal sister. And she had stolen the man Emely was going to be promised to. The prince she wanted so brazenly.
Stepping backward, Emely made her way to the door, ready to inform everyone of the sins she had stumbled upon.
Jumping out of the bed, she hoped to stop the woman, to keep her secret safe. “Please don’t.”
Her pleas went unheard as Emely turned on her heel, making a swift exit. There was no doubt that Emely would tell. Shouting to the world that she was a whore to be shunned.
“Fuck!” She screamed loudly in fear, the reality of it all kicking in. Her heart was pounding as she began to feel nauseous. Her head spun along with the room. But she had to push through in hopes of stopping Emely before it was too late.
“What happened?” Daeron shot up in the bed, being startled awake from the yell. He was still groggy, not understanding what was about to ensue, what he had done.
She couldn’t even speak to Daeron, grabbing at her nightgown, and throwing it on as quickly as possible. “Emely wait, please!”
The sound of her bare feet slapping against the stone echoed throughout the halls. The help she passed jumped out of her way, confused as to why she would leave her room so undressed.
Whenever she woke up in the morning, she made sure everything was perfect. So she might be presentable for her new family. It was strange for anyone to see her so frantic and messy. To see her running after Emely with hatred in her eyes.
Emely wasn’t too far, but no matter how fast she ran, she was never able to catch up to the woman. Ducking in a room, Emely left the door open, clearly trying to get the words out quickly, before she caught up and stopped the attempt of sharing the truth.
She couldn’t hear anything, the ringing in her ears and the thumping of her heart muffled the words spoken about her. Turning into the room Emely ran into, everyone sat around the table, their food sliding off their forks as they listened in horror.
The entire Flint family, her mother and father, even Daeron’s father, prince Maekar stared silently. All looking at her, sickened by the information. Her feet became bricks as she couldn’t move, couldn’t run.
It was a while before anyone moved, said anything. They were all shocked by what she had done, and that it was exposed so publicly. Ruben was the first to move standing from his chair, he made his way to the window.
Some eyes turned to him, waiting for his reaction, needing some sort of guidance in this awful situation. Others kept looking at her, disgusted, hating her for ruining many things that had been planned for months. It was so quiet, the squeaking of a baby mouse could be heard.
“Ruben, I-” She began to apologize, knowing it was he who she hurt most.
“Don’t.” Ruben cut her off sharply.
Never before had he spoken to her in such a way. He was always so kind, so gentle. Whispering sweet words of protection and promises to her. She hated how nice he was. Knowing this would have been easier for her if he were a horrible man that deserved to be hurt in such a way.
Ruben breathed heavily, taking deep breaths to calm himself as he looked out on the horizon. Even in the face of betrayal, of hurt, he wished to handle things with a level head, diplomatically.
“Emely.” Ruben was quick to stop her, knowing that throwing insults would only make things worse, no matter how much he agreed with them.
“Explain yourself.” Lord Flint demanded to know. “Is Emely’s accusations true?”
The words caught in her throat. She found it impossible to say the words, to tell the truth of her actions. There was no nice way of saying it. She had sex with the prince, when she was supposed to marry the lord’s son.
“What’s going on?” Daeron questioned, appearing behind her in the doorway. He was able to get the gist of what happened by everyone’s reactions. He fell asleep in the safety of her warmth, and they had been caught.
Her father stood from the table, walking up to the two. Without a word, he grabbed his daughter’s wrists tightly, pulling her out of the room. She was thankful to be forced out of the room, that she wasn’t the one to turn and run. That would have looked even worse.
Yet she knew that what would come next would not go well. Nothing in this situation would ever go well.
Throwing her in his room, her father slammed the door behind them. Standing in front of it, he made sure she wouldn’t be able to escape. Her normally soft spoken father looked at her with a force of hatred, face scrunched up in anger.
“What happened?” He demanded to know, looking as though he were ready to attack her at any moment.
She cowered in place, hunched over, looking down at her feet. “I think you already know.”
“No, I need to hear it from you.” He said, wanting to make sure that what was accused was absolutely true.
The words failed her, not being able to speak them fully. She mumbled, in hopes that it would make it any less horrible. “I coupled with Daeron.”
“What was that?” Her father shouted, needing her say it with her whole chest. If she were to commit such a debaucherous act, the least she could do was own up to it. “I couldn’t hear you.”
“I had sex with prince Daeron.” The embarrassment built to anger, upset that he was being cruel. “Alright? Are you happy?”
Things went silent as he processed the information. Through the silence she hoped that he would forget the words that came out of her mouth and let her walk free.
That was far from what would happen. After thinking through every solution, he voiced the one he thought would work the best.
“Say he raped you.” His tone shifted to one void of emotion. He was being more serious than ever before. “That you did not wish for this and he forced himself on you.”
“I cannot do that.” She responded, insulted that he would even think such a thing. “Especially when it is far from the truth.”
“He is a prince, he can survive such an accusation.” The man she called father shrugged his shoulders, as if he weren’t suggesting something so horrible.
It was true, the words would hurt Daeron less than any other man. But still. She couldn’t do that, not to him. The thought of making up such a lie was awful.
“Everyone will know it is a lie.” She rebutted, trying to make her father see reason. Everyone would know it to be false, especially the way she reacted after Emely found them “It will only make us look worse.”
“I don’t care!” His voice raised once more as he could no longer hold back his fury. “If it has even a small chance of working you will do it.”
Finally, her mother reached them, opening the door and entering. Their previous conversation was cut off, as her mother sighed deeply, looking at her with disappointment.
“It’s over. They are calling off the wedding.” Her mother explained.
She had stayed back in hopes of fixing things, stopping the inevitable from happening. But she was no god, and the inevitable was inevitable. Trying every which way to say it was a mistake, that it wasn’t true, they wouldn’t have it.
It was worse when Prince Maekar joined in. He knew his son best, and knew that such a thing wasn’t past him. He owed it to his friend to tell the truth, after his son ruined the exact reason they were in the town for.
“They can't." Her father tried to plead with his wife. Hoping it was not true, that there was something else to be done that would magically fix it all. “With everything that was riding on this marriage, they can’t do this to us.”
“They can, and they are.” Her mother sternly told him, trying to get him to understand. “They have already started canceling the preparations."
“Go back in there and tell them to reconsider.” He would not give it up.
“There is nothing more to do.” Her rage began to fill her that he would not listen. “I tried my hardest.”
“Then I shall.” The man stood taller, making his way to the door.
Her mother grabbed at her father, forcing him to stay in the room with them. “You will only worsen things.”
Her mind raced as she tried her hardest to come up with any solution to stop her father. She knew that if he walked out, and discussed with Lord Flint, only lies would come out, ones that would make the whole family look a whole lot worse than they already had.
“Father is going to tell them the prince raped me.” She informed her mother, knowing the old woman would see reason on the horrible idea he had come up with.
“That is an absolutely awful thought. We will only look worse.” Her mother said truthfully, finally getting through her husband’s thick head. “Either way, she is ruined, and no one will have her. Now we have to figure out what to do with your daughter.”
“She is your daughter as well.” He reminded the woman, not wishing for this to be blamed all on him. “Even if you wish to disown her.”
That was the most likely outcome. They had every right to throw her to the streets. And then she would truly be screwed over. Not even Daeron would wish to marry her then. He would have to give up his titles, his wealth. Become a peasant alongside her.
Even if she knew he loved her, there was no way he would give up everything. Having to learn how to live like any normal person, working to survive, just to be with her. Nor would she ask him for such a thing.
“You stupid girl.” Her mother’s anger finally turned to her. Seething, she spat out, “Do you not realize what you have done? To us? To the village? To yourself?”
It was because of her she was forced into this marriage, and she couldn’t help but blame him for it all. Her father was the one who had the spending issue, losing all of the tax money for lavish luxuries that only he got to enjoy.
That is why when winter came, the village suffered greatly. People were starving and dying of the cold. It was Lord Flint that reached out a helping hand, lending them the supplies he was already low on.
Still, as spring came about, her father never changed his ways, continuing to spend more and more until there was no possible way that he could give any small percentage of it back.
Even with that, Lord Flint was generous.
He could have seized the entire village for himself, claiming it as collateral. Forcing her and her family out of the position they were in. But he didn’t. He gave an offer of marriage to his eldest son.
She was the only child of her parents, and the village would fall into the hands of her son, once she had one. So to take the village peacefully, he thought that it would be easiest to wed their children. So that a member of both families would be ruling over the land.
It was most gracious indeed. But now, with the wedding canceled, there was no telling what would happen to her, her family, or the village. Most likely they would be kicked out of their home, their position, like Lord Flint should have done originally.
“Mama please.” She begged, hoping to appeal to her mother better than she had her father. “I did not mean for this.”
“So you thought you would invite another man into your bed and nothing would happen?” The woman shouted, making it sounded like it was all just for lust and not from passionate love.
“It wasn’t like that.” She tried to fight back, say more, but she was cut off before she could explain further.
“What was it then? Tell me.” Her mother tried to make sense of it all. And then, it clicked. She realized how her daughter could have been coaxed into a situation such as this. “Oh, did you really think that he loved you?”
She did not appreciate the conceding tone her mother used. “He does!”
Or maybe it was a lie. The seed of doubt had been planted, being watered by the downpour of her mother’s words. Could Daeron had made it all up, deceiving her into a false sense of security.
“You truly can’t be so stupid to believe that, can you?” Her mother sounded embarrassed that her daughter was fooled by such silly things as love.
“I know he meant it. Just as I know I love him too.” Her voice wavered, as she tried to push through the doubt. She refused to think that Daeron didn’t mean it, that it was all for nothing.
“I am sure he meant it in the moment.” Her mother retorted, knowing how men acted when they were filled with lust and desire. “Men always believe they are in love when they wish to get in a woman's bed. Now that he has had you, I bet he doesn’t feel the same anymore.”
“You do not know that.” She fought back, wishing to believe her own words to be right. Every time she spoke, it became her trying to convince herself more than anything. “Daeron would never stop loving me, never abandon me.”
“You are hopeless.” Her mother sighed, giving up on trying to make her daughter see the truth of the situation. “If his father has any ounce of respect left he will allow us to keep our titles and force a marriage between the two of you.”
“What about the village? Father’s debt?” She wondered, not knowing what would come of them if she married Daeron instead.
“Do you think I know?” Her mother shot back. “If you truly worried about those things, you would not put us in this situation.”
“I do care.” She tried to get the woman to see that through it all, she wished for the best. To see that it was a mistake, and she never intended on getting caught.
“The damage is done, there is no point in arguing anymore.” The woman was over the conversation, not being able to look at her daughter. “All we can hope for is the generosity of prince Maekar, but since they are royalty, they have every right to reject the marriage.”
There was nothing left to say, no words she could spew in hopes of rectifying the situation. “May I leave?”
“Yes.” Her mother said, stepping out of the way of the door. The woman needed a moment alone with her husband to try and come up with a plan to fix their broken honor. “Do not dare speak to the Prince. We cannot have this getting worse.”
Walking past the two, she hesitated leaving the room, fearing what else would happen to her when she left. Looking up, her father still held the same stern, angry face, while her mother had her back to her. She wished to say something more, but knew it was useless.
Even though her mother said not to see Daeron, that it could cause more issues, she didn’t think it could get any worse. She needed comfort. To talk to the one person in the entire castle that would be on her side.
‧₊ ♪˚⊹
Daeron was sitting by the window, already a few cups deep into the pitcher of wine beside him. He was defeated, staring out the window. He felt awful, knowing that it was his fault that she was put in such a situation.
The sickest part of it all was he was also partially relieved.
After her father pulled her out of the room, everything was in disarray. Insults were hurled at any living person in the vicinity, people who were not even partially involved were caught in the crossfire.
He was there when Lord Flint called off the marriage. When Ruben proudly agreed with his fathers decision. He also witnessed her mother grovel and beg for them to reconsider, to calm down and think about it.
Through it all, it felt as though a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. That the thing they were hiding from had been removed. Now he wished to finally get what they had wanted all along, marrying one another.
Not too long after, Lord Flint dismissed everyone, except for Ruben and prince Maekar. Before Daeron left, his father demanded he stay in his room, not to search her out and make it worse for everyone else.
He truly meant to keep that promise, but he couldn’t stop her from searching him out. Not knowing what kind of deal his father was arranging with the lord, he was left to his own devices, the alcohol left in his room.
When she reached the door of his bed chambers, she listened in, making sure that there was no one other than him. Looking around the hall, checking to see that no one saw her, she entered without knocking, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention.
Seeing her disheveled state made him regret any feeling of pride he felt over the situation. Daeron was the man. He should have known the repercussions of the situation would all be forced onto her, and that he would face none of it.
Quickly, he noticed her shaking frame. Standing, he made his way over to her. “Are you alright?”
“My life is over.” She cried out.
Throwing herself on him, he held her in an awkward embrace. The tears finally broke through the barricade as she began to sob into his arms. Not even a single thought could be formed in her brain as she released her sadness.
Daeron was never one to comfort others, especially when his way of dealing with feelings was to drink them away. Yet he couldn’t find the heart to push her away and make her deal with it on her own.
“Your life is not over.” He tried to tell her. She was not dead, she would not marry Ruben. Now they could really be together. “Everything will work out.”
Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe the way things had turned out. But for the first time in his life he felt it to be true, that the stars had aligned and everything would be the way it should.
“It won’t.” She tried to get him to see reason.
No matter what he said, it wouldn’t help. The decision was not up to him, nor was it up to her. She was in a limbo of the unknown. Maybe everything would work out in the end, but maybe it would all turn out horribly wrong.
“Fuck. Why didn’t you just leave my room?” Her hands moved to her face, wiping away the tears and snot.
She needed to know why, why he vexed her in such a way. It was his fault. If he had just left beforehand, they wouldn’t have been caught. They could have figured something out that wasn’t so detrimental.
“I fell asleep.” He told her truthfully. His head felt fuzzy as the alcohol really began to kick in, doing its job of making him more stupid.
“Is that really your excuse?” She spat out.
“It’s not an excuse, it’s the truth.” Daeron told her, expecting her to understand.
The realization hit her. Daeron had been begging her to marry him since the moment they met. Even though she always refused, he never gave up. What if her mother was right. That Daeron only thought of himself, never caring about what would happen to her, her family, her people.
Maybe he planned for this. Sickenly schemed his way into her bed to be caught in the hopes of her marriage being called off. The pit of her stomach began to churn as she began to believe her thoughts to be true.
“This is what you wanted, wasn’t it?” She asked quietly, like everything began to make sense to her
“I did not mean for this.” Daeron fought back, not appreciating her making such assumptions. “It was an accident.”
“An accident.” She scoffed, almost laughing. “One that has cost me my life. This marriage, my one to Ruben, was for my family’s survival.”
“I am a prince, I can offer you and your family more than they ever could.” He tried to calm her worries, knowing that once they married, everything would work itself out.
“That is if your father allows the marriage.” She pointed out. It wasn’t unknown to her about Maekar’s strict rule of his family, and how his sons were always a burden to him. “Lord Flint is his close friend. Why would he welcome me, the one who just destroyed that wedding, into his family?”
“I can get him to see reason.” He tried to convince her.
“I’m stuck.” She cried out, tearing herself away from him. “My fate lies in the hands of others and there’s nothing we can do about it.”
Stuck.
The word rang in his head like a bell that came crashing down. Stuck, another word for:
Caged in.
There was a moment of pause. Daeron stared at her silently, shocked, finally coming to an awful conclusion, realizing the quiet symbols his brain had conjured up.
“I’m the cage.” Daeron mumbled quietly, more to himself than her.
The change in demeanor scared her, fearful of what might come next. Confused and hurt, she wondered. “What does that even mean?”
“I can’t marry you.” He closed himself off from her, she couldn’t know the turmoil that flooded through his body.
It was one thing to have prince Maekar reject the wedding. It was another to have Daeron be unwilling. The possibility of them marrying had dropped drastically, as she believed Prince Maekar wouldn’t allow the marriage if it weren’t for Daeron begging him to have it happen.
Stomach dropping, she looked at Daeron as though he just stabbed her in the heart. “You have to marry me. I beg of you.”
Of course her mother was right. Daeron never truly cared for her, if he did he wouldn’t say such a thing as abandon her in a time of need. It hurt her to think that she was just a pawn in his messed up game. Another woman to fuck and move on from. Like a true whore.
“I cannot.” He told her, void of any emotion. Even though he looked directly at her, it felt as though he was looking through her. “You will only be trapped more.”
“I am already trapped!” She shouted at him, hot tears seeping from her eyes. “You have already trapped me with your pretty words and lies of love. I may at last keep the smallest bit of respect if you marry me.”
“They were never lies.” Daeron was quick to correct her.
“Then why? Why are you so persistent in not marrying me!” She shouted, hoping to make him change his mind.
Moments ago, he was telling her it would be okay, that they would work to solve it together. Now he was completely shutting her out. This was not love. It was greed. Wishing to have her and not deal with anything that followed.
It was sick that he could get away with such a thing. He was the man. A prince no less. The only one who could force him to marry her was his father. And there was no telling if he would want a woman like her to join the royal family.
“It is because I love you that I mustn't” He tried to tell her, to make her understand why it was best for her to stay away from him. “Yes I have trapped you. And I am wrong for that. But I am leaving the door open so you must escape while you have the chance.”
“Do you not get it?” She tried to make him see that he was being stupid. Still, she wished for him to make things right. For them to marry. Even if he was shattering her heart into a million pieces. “My family will be thrown to the streets. I will be thrown to the streets. And what if I am pregnant? What then? You will have me raise your child, our child, alone with nowhere to go?”
“I cannot have you be trapped with me for eternity.”
Even though his father told him to stay in the room, he needed to leave. If he didn’t walk away now, he may go back on his words. To hug her and welcome her into his darkness. That was the last thing she needed, for her light to fade.
Leaving the room, he heard her collapse to the floor as she continued to sob into her hands. For a moment he stood outside the door, letting the ache of her cries cut into him deeply. He deserved it, the pain he felt. He knew that it was nothing in comparison to what he had just done to her.
He should have known better. That he could not beat fate. That no matter what he did, this would have been the outcome. The dream, the one that saved him so many times before, she was caged in by the branches of the Wirewood Tree.
She was never caged in Flint’s Fingers. It was always in King’s Landing. His home.
Even in his dream, he wished to break her out of it, but he never could. It was because he was the one to place her there. Forced her into a situation she never wished to be in, all for his own pleasure and delight.
Forever stuck, made to sing for him, keeping her light all to himself like the sick greedy man he was. His heart sunk as reality hit him. He was the monster, not Ruben. If he never interfered, she would have been able to fly free, live her life the way she wished to.
It hurt him. If his seed bore fruit and gave her a child, a beautiful perfect being from the both of them, he knew it would be better for them if he were not involved. They would never get caught up in the trail of horrors that always followed wherever he went, hurting the people he loved most.
‧₊ ♪˚⊹
Wanting to get it over with, Daeron searched out his father. He needed to say his wish. No, it was not his wish, but what needed to happen. That he could not marry her under any circumstance. He could not trap her.
To his surprise, he found his father alone, in Lord Flint’s personal study. The lord of the castle was most likely running around, breaking apart all of the preparations that had been made for his son’s wedding.
It was clear that his father had been stewing in anger. The look he shot Daeron could cause him to have a heart attack right then and there. “I told you to stay in your room.”
“I know.” Daeron’s confidence wavered under his father’s intense stare. “I thought it would be easier if we talked now.”
Prince Maekar let out a deep sigh, rubbing his face with his palms. “What happened?”
“I got lost in the moment.” Daeron admitted. He remembered the guilt he felt then. It should have been a sign not to do it. But like always, he couldn’t help himself. “I shouldn’t have done it.”
“No you shouldn’t have,” Maekar added, snarkily. “You are a prince, you could have had anyone you wish: maids, whores. Fuck. Having Emely would have been easier to handle. But the bride?”
“I know. I’m a fuck up.” Daeron sighed, being friends with the feeling of disappointment. “As you so ceaselessly remind me”
“This is more than a fuck up Daeron.” His father shouted. “Words cannot describe how awful this is.”
He flinched at the words, not being able to say anything. There was nothing he could do to fix the situation. All he could hope for was that his father didn’t force them to marry.
“Where did I go wrong?” Maekar wondered. “How did I raise you so horribly?”
He stayed silent, looking down at his father’s perfectly polished shoes.
“Please tell me you at least pulled out.” Maekar begged to know, praying to the Gods that he was not that stupid. “So she might save herself one ounce of honor.”
Still, not a word. He couldn’t admit it. If he denied it, his father would see through it. Maekar was always able to sniff through Daeron’s lies, especially when he was drunk.
“Gods.” Makear cursed, walking away from Daeron. He thought for a moment, trying to see any other solution. “There's nothing else to do. You’ll have to marry her.”
Daeron should have known it would come to that conclusion. Instead, he should have told his father that he wished to marry her, knowing his father would reject the marriage, just to spite him and make sure he didn’t get his way.
“Father, no.” Daeron begged. “I can’t marry her.”
“Maybe you should have thought about it before finding your way into her room.” Maekar snapped back, facing his disappointment of a son.
“You have to listen.” Daeron continued, trying to make his father see what he had. “It will end badly for everyone, especially for her.”
“I will chain you to myself and drag you down the aisle if it means making you.” Maekar was not having it, keeping to his word. “I should have never brought you along on this trip.”
He agreed with his father on that point. If he never came along, he wouldn’t have met her, she would have been married to Ruben, far from him, far from the cage. Living the boring life as Lady Flint.
But she would have been safe
“No you shouldn’t have.”
He ruined everything he touched. He ruined her, her life, her marriage. Even ruining the friendship between his father and Lord Flint. Now he truly wouldn’t know peace, having to live with the fact that he has sentenced her to the awful life he wished to save her from.
Gods he needed a drink.
Next ->
-ˋˏ ༻𖤓༺ ˎˊ-
I wrote this chapter so quickly I'm shocked. I apologize if it was everywhere, they are goign through a lot of emotions and I was trying to capture all of it in an understandable way!!
Either way, I hope you all enjoyed it!! The next half of the fic will be getting pretty angsty but it will all work out in the end, I promise! I am excited for you all to read it!
Please let me know your thoughts in the comments! I love hearing your opinions and it helps me stay motivated when I know there are people who are really enjoying the fic. Or if you wish to talk to me more personally, you can reach me through my discord!! (Link here: discord.gg/vN7De7PYbc)
Love you all!!!
Taglist (If you wish to be added/removed from this list, comment or dm me):
About: Daeron dreamed of the same woman for ten years, saving him from his horrific nightmares. He knew her, but never met her before. No dreams could predict what would happen when he finally finds her in the most unexpected situation.
I do not read the books. I am basing most of the fic off of own personal beliefs of his character, and what I have seen so far in the show. (i do a bit of research here and there though.)
no use of Y/N
Chapter 4: Spread your Wings and Fly
Word count: 5,628
Smut below
<- Previous
Pacing back and forth in her room, she replayed the events in her head, remembering them in greater detail: The way his lilac eyes sparkled, pupils dilated even though the light of the fire hit them directly; The way their combined saliva gathered on his bottom lip, that parted from the top, out of shock.
The thing she remembered most was the way it felt. It was her first kiss, yet she already knew that no other would satisfy her the way Daeron did. Her body filled with warmth as her heart clenched when thinking of him.
Her fingers were held to her lips, trying to press the feeling of kissing Daeron onto them so she might never forget.
She didn’t know why she did it, being caught up in the moment.
She regretted it.
She was to be married in only a couple of days. Ruben was a nice man, a good man. He didn’t deserve this form of betrayal. She needed to cut things off with Daeron before it was too late, before it went farther and she ruined the match that was set up for her.
There was too much riding on the marriage with Ruben. Many people depended on her, on the Flint’s name. If it were a marriage for her to just get sold to the highest bidder, she would have no problem running off to marry Daeron.
But that sadly was not the case.
Even though it was quiet late into the night, she knew it needed to be cut off now or she’d never be able to sleep. All she could hope for was that he was awake, and she wasn’t being too much of a bother.
Taking a deep breath, she fixed herself, making sure she was presentable to enter the hallway. Walking over to the door in long strides, she was determined not to back down, not to give in to his beautiful, pleading eyes.
Her confidence dwindled the second she opened the door, finding Daeron standing there, arm raised, ready to knock on the wood.
Daeron too had been thinking about the kiss. It plagued his mind from the moment her lips left his. She kissed him. Not because she was paid to, not because he asked her to, but because she wished to connect their lips. To connect their souls.
It was a fact that he messed up that ruined it all. Daeron should have known better than to rush things with her, like proposing to her in the darkness of the library even though she was already engaged.
But he couldn’t give up, he had to try. He knew it was meant to be, they were meant to be. After hours of trying to build up the courage, he finally did it leaving the confines of the room.
He was going to tell her about the dreams, about how she saved him in his darkest moments. Informing her of the cage, he was going to tell her that she shouldn’t marry Ruben, that she deserved to flourish and not be locked away in this castle on the cliffside.
And of course, he planned on telling her how much he loved her. Not just that he loved her, how he wished to be the one marrying her. How he was willing to give up everything just so he may stay beside her.
The words died in his throat the moment his eyes landed on her. Jaw slacking ever so slightly, his lips parted. As her nightgown was thin and clung to her body beautifully, eyes slowly traveled down, taking in the skin of hers he’d never seen before.
Daeron wanted to drop to his knees, praising her beauty and thanking her for allowing him the privilege to gaze upon her. Heart pointing in his chest, he attempted to get his words out, do anything, but nothing was released.
They stood still, as she tried to build up the courage to tell him, to break his heart and say they could no longer see each other. With a deep breath, she straightened her back, believing that standing taller would help the words come out easier.
“I-”
Barely even a sound came out of her before Daeron leaned forward into her. Dominant hand reaching her face, he used the other one to grasp at the edge of the door. The action caused her to tumble backwards slightly, giving him enough room to enter and close the door.
It did not close delicately like he expected, body using more force than intended. She jumped in his grasp, shocked by the noise. While she was planning on breaking things off with Daeron, to stop this exact thing from happening, with his lips on hers, she couldn’t find it in her heart.
Daeron was a despicable, greedy man. He knew it was wrong to defile a respectable lady. When it came to her, he couldn’t help herself, especially when he knew she wanted it to. His hands traveled down her body, feeling the curves under her nightgown. Eventually they landed on her butt, one hand on each cheek. He grasped at the mounds drawing a gasp from her lips.
He used the opportunity to deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue into her mouth. It was new to her. Strange, yet so intoxicating. She found her legs clenching together as she wanted more, whatever that entailed. Her hands knotted into his messy, dusty-brown hair, keeping him in place.
Daeron hated to pull away, but he knew he needed to tell her, use his words before he found himself incapable. Making sure he was still close, Daeron kept his hands stationed at her hips. She groaned at the loss of contact, leaning into him to try and connect them once more.
“I’m sorry.” He quietly mumbled.
“Just shut up and kiss me.” She sounded almost pained. Like she would die if he didn’t keep kissing her.
Ignoring her request, he continued, “I shouldn’t have asked you to run away with me. I just-”
Leaning forward, she kissed him softly, stopping him from continuing. “Please, Daeron. I do not wish to talk of these things now. I want you to touch me.”
She had no knowledge of sex, only that what happens between man and woman should be sacred to marriage. Deep down, she knew that it was wrong, but it was addicting, the way Daeron looked at her, the way he touched her. She wanted nothing more than for it to continue.
Hesitating a moment, he looked deep in her eyes, trying to find any doubt in them. She was sure, coaxing him into doing something he would never be able to take back. Taking the first step, she grabbed at his wrist, moving the hand to lay in the center of her chest.
The beating of her heart was rapid. She was real. Not a figment of his imagination. Not a character in his dreams. But a real living human being. And she was his, as he was hers.
With a deep breath, he needed to ask one last time, “Are you sure about this?”
“I am.” She gave him a soft smile.
Even though she didn’t know what exactly she was agreeing to, she trusted Daeron. Trusted that he would take care of her. She was filled to the brim with excitement and curiosity, to the point where it almost scared her. The way her body reacted to Daeron was something she never experienced with anyone, and she wished to know why.
Daeron hesitated. He knew he should walk away. That she would soon be married, where she was expected to be a virgin. But the thought of it being someone else who touched her, who got to feel her, sickened him greatly.
“Just-” The last strands of his honor began to snap. “Tell me if you want to stop.”
“I will.” She promised him with a nod.
With a deep breath his hand moved against her open skin making its way to where the edge of her nightgown sat on her shoulder. Bringing his other hand to the opposite side, he pinched the fabric delicately, fearing that if he moved too fast, he would scare her away.
She looked at him with a fiery curiosity. Part of her wished to hide, keeping her body to herself. But the other part wished for Daeron to be the only one to know it. Standing still, she allowed him to push the fabric off her shoulders, exposing the skin.
Neither of them knew what would happen after this silent night. So Daeron wanted to savor it. Keeping the fabric at the base of her shoulder, he leaned in, pressing his lips to the crux of her neck.
Instinctively, she moved her head to the side, giving him more access to her exposed skin. Daeron knew he couldn’t leave a mark, proof of what they were doing, but he still wished to suck on her skin. Ever so slightly, he breathed in her scent, allowing her to fill all of his senses.
Hands sliding down her arms, Daeron pulled her gown lower. The fabric caught at her nipples, needing more force to pull it over the swell of her breast. Never moving off of her body, his lips traveled down her chest until they reached their target.
Daeron wrapped his hands around her waist, pulling her lower half into him as he leaned over her. She held onto his shoulders with a tight grip, stopping her from falling backward. His mouth covered her hardened nipple.
She moaned lightly into the air, accepting the new feeling. Suckling on it, his tongue swirled around its peak. The noises she made, and the way she grabbed tightly onto him encouraged Daeron to continue onto the other breast.
Even though he could stay there all night, they sadly didn’t have that time. Pulling away from her, Daeron pushed the rest of her nightgown off her body, letting it pool at her feet. Wishing to see all of her glory, he stepped back. But she was quick to grab his hands, holding them, not wanting to part.
“Fuck.” Daeron’s eyes traveled down her entire length, taking it all in. “You’re beautiful.”
Hesitatingly, she stepped closer, obstructing his view. Daeron was quick to frown, wishing to enjoy her more, but stopped when her hands went to the hem of his tunic. “May I?”
Not being able to form words, Daeron nodded in response. Lifting his arms up, he made it easier for her to undress him. After dropping the bundle of fabric on the floor, her hands trailed down his torso as she leaned into him, connecting their lips.
She stumbled with the buttons of his britches, hands shaking from the fear of doing something wrong. After loosening it enough, she pulled them off his hips, letting it lay beside his tunic.
Moving away from the kiss, she looked between them, viewing his manhood that hung from in between his legs. She didn’t know what it did. Her hands danced over his skin, making their way down his stomach, heading to his legs. Curiously, she placed it in her hands, feeling how hot and heavy it was.
Daeron let out a groan. Grabbing her wrist to stop her, he let out a low, “No.”
She jumped back, fearing the worst. “Did I hurt you?”
“Quite the opposite.” He huffed happily. Normally he would sit back and let the whore do all the work. But she was no whore. “You don’t need to do anything. I’ll take care of you.”
She nodded, feeling the heat rise through her body, feeling most of it pool where her legs met. Now that she was far enough away, she was able to see him fully. Remembering the words he said to her, she repeated them back. “You’re beautiful too.”
A laugh escaped his lips, one that came from the pit of his stomach. No one had ever described him as such, not even if they were being paid to. Part of him wished to believe that she was telling the truth. But the other half knew she only thought that because he was the first man she had seen nude before.
It didn’t mean that it didn’t make his heart clench any less. Daeron began to feel empty, being apart from her for too long. Stepping up to her, he cupped her face. Delicately, like she would fly away, he kissed her.
It was different before. With his lips, he worshiped her. Daeron knew he was lucky, that only by the grace of the gods he was able to be close to her, to touch her, to make love to her. Getting even closer, he pushed their naked bodies together.
Her nipples brushed against his body hair, already hardened from the arousal. Taking another step closer to her, he forced her to walk backwards, until the back of her calves collided with the end of the bed.
He pulled away from her lips, dropping to his knees. Her hands found their way to his locks, brushing the loose waves out of his face, to see his pleading eyes.
Daeron looked at her as though he was kneeling before a goddess. Begging her to allow him to continue worshiping her. She had never been loved, let alone worshiped in such a way. She craved the attention just as much he wished to give it to her.
“Sit down.” He softly told her, pressing a soft kiss to her thigh.
She did as she was told, placing her butt on the mattress covered in thick fur. Staying sitting up, she watched as his head dipped farther, pressing his lips to the top of her feet. As his lips moved to her calves, he locked their eyes, making sure she watched as he kissed her body.
The palm of his hands laid on her knees, pulled her legs apart from one another, allowing him to view the part he had wished to see for years. Yet, he had to be patient, needing to savor every moment so he could etch every detail into the deepest parts of his brain. To look back on the fond memory when he had to find another person, in hopes of give him an ounce of joy he felt now, with her.
Slowly, he kissed up her thigh, getting closer and closer to her center. Laying her back on the soft cushion, she opened her legs wider, allowing him to gain more access to her. She looked down her body, meeting his gaze from in between her breasts.
In that moment, it all became real, the awful sin that they were about to commit. Images of Ruben flashed in her mind, the good man that she was promised to marry. The guilt began to bleed into her soul.
“This is wrong.” She said outloud, needing to get it off her chest. “I am to be married.”
“You are not married yet.” Daeron reminded her, hot breath fanning over the built up wetness.
“I am not.” She agreed, swallowing her pride, needing him to touch her.
Not wishing for her to regret it, he asked one last time, “Do you want me to stop?”
“No.” Her answer was stern and true.
The new feeling was strange, but not unwelcomed. The wet muscle of his tongue licked up the lengths of her vagina. She let a shaky moan draw from her lips, speaking her pleasure into the open air.
Daeron groaned as if the action was giving him the same amount of pleasure. Like a man starved, he continued to lap up her wetness. Still keeping eye contact, he watched her eyebrows knit together, as her jaw laid slacked, letting moans flow easily out of her opened mouth.
Curling his lips around her clit, he began to suck on it. Leaning up on her elbows, she wished for a better view, wanting to understand exactly how Daeron was pleasuring her so greatly. Daeron’s hair fell in his way once more. She was quick to grab it, holding it on his head so it didn’t obstruct her view any more.
His hand caressed her thigh, sliding up to his mouth. Head dipping down, his tongue prodded at her entrance while his thumb made circles around her clit. The muscle pushed through the closed slit, entering her.
Heart thumping in her chest loudly, she could hear the mixed sound of her moans and the sinful noise of his tongue doing wonders to her. Never in her life did she ever expect to feel such a pleasure, let alone from a man she was not even married to.
She wished to marry Daeron. For him to be in between her legs every night, lapping at her like a rabid animal. Sadly for both of them, it was not possible, so they had to enjoy the moment while it lasted.
Once he had enough of her entrance, his mouth moved back to her clit. Instead of his tongue, he entered her with a single finger. It reached much deeper and was able to move more freely inside of her.
Slowly it slid in and out of her, until Daeron eventually added another. With the way she clamped down on them, he knew she was close. He made sure to keep with the pumping of his fingers, not wishing to cause her the pain of losing momentum.
“Oh Daeron.” She moaned deeply from her heart. The muscles in her stomach began to clench. “I-”
She didn’t even know what she was planning on saying, but it was cut off by a slew of moans. Her head was thrown back as she arched her back off the fur blanket. Legs clamping down on Daeron’s head, she came undone.
His fingers slowed their movements, slowly working her off the high. Once her body stopped twitching, and relaxed, he pulled away from in between her legs. Crawling over top of her, Daeron connected their lips.
The taste of herself was still on his tongue like the alcohol he loved. When he stopped kissing her, he never went far, keeping their foreheads together. Pupils blown wide, his iris’ were black.
They breathed in each other's air, enjoying one another's presence. Through it all, Daeron was there to make sure she was well. “Are you alright?”
With a wide smile, she proudly stated, “More than alright.”
“Do you wish to continue?” Daeron wanted to make sure.
Pleasuring her with his mouth and fingers was one thing, having sex was another. He knew there would be no return from it once they crossed that boundary.
“There’s more?” She chuckled in shock, “I did not know it can get better than that.”
“So you don’t want to?” He asked again, needing a clear answer.
“I never said that.” She was quick to retort. “I would love to feel whatever you have to give me.”
Daeron’s cock jumped in the air at her words, ready to have her surrounding it. He wished to enter her there and now and pleasure himself with her body, but he knew better. This was no longer about him, it was about the both of them. About their shared pleasure, their shared experience.
Pressing his hips against hers, he humped his clock between her lips, allowing it to get covered in her wetness, knowing that it would be less painful for her. She breathed out a soft moan every time his tip brushed against her clit.
Once he believed she was ready, he pulled away from her. Standing in between her legs, he positioned the tip at her entrance. Before pushing in, he looked at her once more, looking for any sign of discomfort and uncertainty.
There was not a single trace of it, only excitement and love. Her hand reached for the one that held her waist, linking their fingers together. With a deep breath, he pushed his tip into her.
A strained groan left her as she squirmed at the feeling. It hurt to be pried in such a way, but the feeling wasn’t unwelcomed. She trusted Daeron with her whole being, if he said that she would feel pleasure, she knew it would come eventually.
Slowly, he pressed into her until his hips met hers. His large cock stretched her walls and reached deeper than she thought possible. She felt so full of love, so complete. Like he was her missing half, and the puzzle pieces had finally been connected.
They both breathed heavily, sitting still and waiting. Leaning down once more, he pressed his lips to hers. She moaned, feeling him adjust within her. Her walls clamped down on him like no other had.
Rocking his hips back and forth, he gently pulled out before pushing in again. Her free hand tangled in his hair, wanting to keep him close, refusing to let him back away once more. He held onto her waist, needing it to ground himself in reality. To remember that she was real, and allowing him to give her his love.
Pulling her feet onto the mattress, she thought it would give him more access to her, make Daeron feel as good as he made her feel. What she didn’t expect was the effect it would have on him. Hips slamming deeply into her, the angle he entered her gave him an amount of pleasure he had never felt before.
“Oh Gods.” He moaned loudly.
His body locked in place, not giving him the time to pull out before cumming. Strips of semen shot inside of her womb as his cock twitched against her walls. Confused at what happened, she waited patiently for him to move once more.
It was most unexpected, he didn’t mean to finish so quickly. Never before had he ejaculated so prematurely. He was a man of the flesh, of pleasure. He knew he could last longer, so why didn’t he?
Before had never feared finishing inside a woman, the consequences wouldn’t affect him. But now, with her, panic filled his body. He cussed, pulling out of her, backing away as he watched his own seed seep out of her. “Fuck.”
She sat up, looking at him worried, fearful that she did something wrong. “Is everything okay?”
“No. I just-” The words caught in his throat, not knowing how to tell her that he messed up, for good this time. “You may become a child. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, you just-”
As he rambled on his apology, she stood from the bed, legs quivering ever so slightly from the abuse. Walking up to him, she kissed him, stopping him from spewing his worries. Her lips calmed him. She was so sure that he couldn’t help but adopt her emotion.
“I expected the possibility when I let you into my bed. Truthfully, I didn’t think there was a way to couple without the chance of producing a babe.” She softly told him, not wishing for him to worry anymore. “If you are okay with it. I would like to continue.”
“What if it comes out like a Targaryen?” Daeron ignored her request, still worrying. “Silver hair and purple eyes.”
“Thankfully you do not have silver hair.” She combated his fear. “The child might come out with my eye color, my parent’s eye color. There is no way of knowing.”
“That is what worries me.” Daeron huffed, as his anxiety only increased.
“What I mean to say is, it has already been done. There is no telling what the future holds.” Linking her fingers around the back of his neck, she held him. “I would be happy to have a child with you.”
“You would?” The comment shocked him, forcing his racing thoughts to come to a halt. “Even with possibility of people finding out that it is a bastard?”
“Let me worry about that, alright?" It was true, even if the babe came out looking like a Targaryen, she would be the one to deal with it, not Daeron. “Do you wish to continue?”
When she asked him so nicely, he found it hard to refuse. That and he felt guilty he couldn’t please her the way she did. Sheepishly, he nodded. “You will just have to give me a minute to get aroused again.”
“What do I need to do?” She wondered, wishing to quicken the process. Grabbing his hand, she led him back to the bed as they both sat on the edge.
If his body didn’t need at least a few minutes to recuperate, he would have been hard again in an instant. The way she looked at him, with her pleading eyes, wishing to pleasure him, did things to him that changed his very being.
“Just kiss me for now.” He whispered, leaning into her.
As their lips moved together, he stroked at his softened cock, hoping that it would speed up the process. The slick of their combined wetness helped him move his hand up and down his smaller length. She caught on to what he was trying to do. Moving her hand up in between his legs, she replaced his grip with her own.
Her fingers were cold in comparison to his hot body. Yet it didn’t make him feel any less good having her grip stroking at him. She was too delicate, like she was scared of hurting him. Putting his hand overtop hers, he had her grip his cock tighter.
Letting go of her, she understood what Daeron was getting at, holding onto him with more strength. Learning the curve of him, her strokes began to gain confidence, more of a rhythm. Moaning into her mouth, he felt the blood rush to his member once more.
Even though she felt it grow, she didn’t stop. It only encouraged her to keep going, to go harder, faster. The groans turned to whimper and pleads. With his free hand, he began to feel her breast once more, getting lost in the bright light of hers.
“If you don’t stop, I am going to cum again.” He moaned out, pulling away from her lips.
“Sorry.” She was quick to apologize.
“There is no need. You just feel too good.” He chucked lightly, kissing her on the forehead. “I am ready now if you are.”
She nodded, leaning back on the mattress once more so he may be on top. When he stood, he made note of how she sat up on her elbows. “You might want to lean back on the pillows. It will be more comfortable, and you will be less sore.”
Smiling at him, she began to back up on the bed, until her head hit the wood of the headboard. Through it all, Daeron cared so deeply for her and her wellbeing. It made her heart clench, made her fall deeper in love with him than before.
Daeron didn’t need to enter her slowly like before, since she was already stretched out. This time he brought his finger to her clit. Knowing that he wouldn’t last as long as he wished to, he thought that quickening her process instead might be better.
With her leaning slightly against the headboard, it was easier for him to reach her lips. Pressing his body into her, trapping her against the bed, he wanted to be engulfed by her, feel her everywhere around him.
Daeron’s free hand moved from her hip to her thigh, pulling at the skin, wanting her to lift her legs around his hips. Doing just as he wished, she locked her ankles around his back, following the movements of him pressing into her.
The pad of his thumb pressed into her clit harsher than before, making tight, fast circles. He was close, she could tell as his hips pushed into her with more ferocity, more need. She too felt the knot in her stomach build up. This time it was stronger, drawing tighter than before.
“I love you so much.” Daeron huffed in between moans. He was quick to get his words out, needing her to know before he came. “You were meant for me. You are perfect”
“Daeron.” She responded softly, cupping his cheek in her hand, brushing her thumb over the scar. “I love you too.”
Daeron couldn’t hold back any longer. The damage had already been done, so he didn’t pull out when he felt his cock begin to twitch inside of her. Her walls fluttered around him, gushing, drawing his seed deeper into her.
They both breathed heavily as Daeron laid on top of her. His lips found her pressing into the kiss deeply. He needed her to know that what he said was true, “I meant it, that I love you.”
She gave him a wide smile, brushing his hair behind his torn ear. “I did too.”
With a deep breath, Dearon rolled off of her. Laying on the bed, he pulled her close. He couldn’t leave just yet. For the first time in his life, he felt whole, like everything would be okay, that he wouldn’t go to sleep and see the horrors of the future.
She was the light in his darkness, the one that saved him from his own mind. And he knew, the moment he left her side, that empty feeling would come back, consuming him whole.
So he laid there, making every last moment count. Wishing that reality would somehow bend and her marriage with Ruben would be called off by some grace of the gods. Oh how he prayed to them to make it happen.
She too wished the night would span on forever, that she could stay comfortable in his arms, to be with a man she loved, and not married because of obligations or contracts. It was a sick fate. If only they had met sooner, their stories might have ended differently.
Maybe the crown would have been the one to lend a helping hand to the village. That they would be indebted to Daeron, so she could be sold to him as collateral. She almost hated that lord Flint was so generous to help her family and village. She most definitely despised that her father was too poor to pay back with money, so she became the prize instead.
The worst part was, if she never met Daeron, she would have been contemptuous with her life: Living boringly as Lady Flint. Now there was no going back. She knew what it felt like to love and be loved, and it would never feel the same again with Ruben.
But at least, she could say that she felt it once in her life. That she could say ‘I love you’ and truly mean it.
“My father wishes for me to marry Emely.” Daeron told her, rubbing his fingers across the skin of her shoulder. “He tried to get me to sign a contract earlier.”
“How awful.” She groaned, not seeing how anyone would wish to marry such a woman. “At least you can say no.”
Daeron froze, scared to admit what was on his mind. “What if I didn’t?”
“Why would you wish for such a fate?” She jumped up onto her side, looking at him with worry.
His hand trailed up her body, landing on her cheek. He looked at her sadly. Marrying Emely was awful, and he didn’t want to do it. But at the same time, there was one single advantage to doing so. One that outweighed the bad.
“I could live here, with you.” He said softly, giving a weary smile.
“But I too would be married.” She pointed out. It wasn’t like she would be his mistress, or vice versa. They would both be married, cheating on their spouses to be with one another.
“Yes.” He agreed. “We could still meet in secret.”
“No-” She was quick to reject the idea. She didn’t know if she could do it, sneaking behind her husband's back to sleep with the man married to his sister.
“Just listen.” He leaned on his elbow, trying to get closer to her, trying to make her understand. “Yes, we would not be able to marry. But we still have one another in this dim castle.”
“Please, let's not talk about this tonight.” She knew that this conversation would not be solved in one night, and she didn’t want to ruin the mood she was in. “I am trying to forget about my situation.”
“Alright.” He agreed sadly, already knowing her answer.
They were stuck. There was nothing else for them to do. The most they could hope for is that she somehow becomes a young widow, or they would only have this one night to remember each other.
After everything, the dreams, her touch, filling her with his seed, he needed to stay close to her. Part of him wished to stay behind in the dark grey castle. Her light shines brighter than any place in Westeros.
But questions would be raised, people would find out that he was her mistress. That would end badly for the both of them, and Ruben might stage an accident and have Daeron killed if he found out such a thing.
“You should leave soon.” She said, pulling him from his thoughts. “We cannot get caught like this.”
“Just a little longer.” Daeron settled back into the bed, grabbing at her body. “I want to hold you while I still can.”
She couldn’t deny him, couldn’t resist his touch. Leaning on him she readied herself for sleep before darkly warning. “You better be gone by the time I wake up.”
“I will.” Daeron whispered, leaning down and pressing his lips to her forehead. “I promise”
Next ->
-ˋˏ ༻𖤓༺ ˎˊ-
I worked really hard on making this smut good. I think I did better than i have done in the past! I hope you all enjoyed it!! The angst will ensue next chapter and I am so super excited to write it >:)'
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About: Daeron dreamed of the same woman for ten years, saving him from his horrific nightmares. He knew her, but never met her before. No dreams could predict what would happen when he finally finds her in the most unexpected situation.
I do not read the books. I am basing most of the fic off of own personal beliefs of his character, and what I have seen so far in the show. (i do a bit of research here and there though.)
no use of Y/N
Chapter 3: And the Door Opens
Word count: 3,058
<- Previous
There was a reason Daeron didn’t attend dinner with the family. He couldn’t handle the disgusting display of affection shown by Ruben.
“A toast to my future bride.” Ruben proudly stated, standing from his seat and raising his cup of wine. “Only a few more days until I can call you my wife.”
For weeks, Daeron had gotten out of having supper with everyone else. Maekar was disappointed. But when was he not? He had enough, forcing Daeron into the room with the large table that sat many.
To his biggest dismay, Daeron was stuck in between his father and Emely. The last two people he wished to be near. His love sat at the end of the table, opposite to him, next to Ruben.
Just for a moment, her eyes darted over to Daeron before looking back up at Ruben. She had the same polite smile. Made the same formal nod to the words spoken about her. Agreeing with what he had to say even though it wasn’t her wish.
The second the cup was brought to her lips, her face dropped. Only for a moment. No one would have noticed. But Daeron did. Daeron couldn’t help but notice when she showed clear signs of being distraught. That she didn’t want to marry Ruben. That she wished to be with someone she loved, and that was Daeron.
Whispered circled around the table, speaking of how perfect the couple was. To the outsider, they were: A respectable lady, one that is put together well, kind and smart. And a lord that was strong and smart. What more could someone want?
Reaching for his cup, he needed more wine. More alcohol in his system so the pain might dull. So he might forget.
The cup was empty, only a drop being left. Looking around he beckoned the cup bearer forward, so it may be filled once more. Maekar was quick to intervene, glaring at the boy that held the pitcher, putting a hand over Daeron’s cup to signify that he must not have more.
“Father.” He pleaded quietly.
“I told you not to make a fool of yourself.” Maekar reminded his son.
“That is what I am doing.” Daeron continued to make his case, quite awfully. “The wine dulls my stupidity.”
“Wine makes you more stupid.” Maekar seethed, voice raising louder than before.
“I am a grown man.” Daeron added, thinking it would make his point.
Maekar was trying to end the conversation before anyone else caught on. But the rage started to build and his composure began to slip. “Then act like one!”
“Will you just let me make decisions for myself?” Daeron groaned, loudly, gaining everyone’s attention.
“No.” Maekar shouted, not realizing that all eyes were on him. “You are incapable. I must make them for you.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Looking around, Maekar felt the heat of embarrassment rise throughout his body, only angering him further. Facing down at his plate, he continued to cut at the meat before him, mumbling a small apology to the people around.
Conversations picked back up, as everyone thought it was over. With Daeron, the complaining never ended. Once he thought that it was loud enough, he leaned into his father again, continuing to complain.
“Then what shall I drink to clench my thirst?” The mere thought of not having wine made his throat clench in dehydration.
“Water.” Maekar said plainly, ending the argument before it got out of hand. “It has existed long before wine.”
Daeron huffed, leaning back in his chair and pouting like a child. The serving boy walked over to him at Maekar’s command, filling the cup so wine might not somehow find its way into it.
Sipping it felt like drinking poison, as the bland taste washed away any lingering burning of the wine. From the moment he sat down, Daeron knew he wouldn’t survive the dinner. But now, with no more wine, it was all but a guarantee he would die before they brought out the desserts.
No one was paying attention to the prince, all lost in their own worlds. It was Emely who leaned forward on the table, giving Daeron a pert smirk. Without a word, she grabbed at Daeron’s cup of water, taking a sip from it.
It was easy for her to do it unnoticed, as it bordered her spot at the table. Daeron gave her a stern glare, not liking whatever she was doing. It was inappropriate, to steal the cup of a man, let alone a prince, knowingly. But he knew better than to make a scene, causing his father more grievance.
Instead of returning the cup to its original position, she held it in her lap, hiding it under the table. With her free hand, she reached for her cup, filled with the sweet nectar of wine. Emely moved it to the other side of her plate, where Daeron could reach.
Giving him a curt nod, she placed the cup of water in her spot. Daeron couldn’t help but smile, happy that he had found his saving grace in the dreaded dinner. Leaning toward her, hoping his father wouldn’t hear, he said, “Thank you.”
“I do not know what you are talking about.” She responded.
Chuckling lightly at her, he took a sip of the wine. Daeron’s eyes traveled past Emely, landing on the woman beside Ruben. Ruben was talking to her, saying something of little interest.
Her eyes were trained on Daeron, frowning at the interaction between him and Emely. She was jealous, upset that he was having fun talking to the woman that would be her sister in only a few days.
The last thing Daeron wanted was to make her believe that he too was interested in Emely, but before he could make any movement, she turned from him, looking back at her betrothed.
‧₊ ♪˚⊹
Daeron was hiding from his father. Ever since Emely publicly stated her interest in him, Maekar wished for his son to reciprocate those feelings, joining house Flint and house Targaryen.
Once dinner ended, Maekar stated he wished to have a conversation with Daeron, after he met with Lord Flint. He wasn’t stupid. At the moment, his father was sealing his fate, writing up a marriage contract.
The last thing Daeron wanted was to get married. But if he had to, he wished to at least find his wife bearable. And Emely was insufferable. Or in the best case, he would be able to marry the woman from his dreams, but the likelihood of that was merely impossible.
Thankfully, since he was the man, he too had to sign the agreement. But Daeron knew himself, he knew his father. All it would take is a bit of wine and words of disappointment and he’d give in instantly, signing away his life to the vulture Emely Flint.
So, he had to hide. Being caged in his room meant Maekar could easily find him and corner him. His leather boots hit the stone ground, echoing in the halls. Twisting and turning, he tried to find the least likely corner of the castle.
Opening a random dorm, he was met with the smell of leather and paper. The dark library was lit by the warm light of the fireplace. Though he wasn’t alone as he wished to be.
Daeron should have known the door he opened wasn’t one of pure coincidence. His heart was drawn to the room because of what laid in it. In front of the fireplace was a couch. She sat on the carpeted floor, leaning her back on the cushion of the couch.
Before he could even process what was happening, his feet began to move toward her. She was relaxed, book in her lap. Using the light from the fire, she focused on the thin sheet of paper.
Hearing the footsteps approaching, she turned to Daeron. Her face lit up in a smile before quickly hiding it behind her polite, ladylike one.
"We can't keep meeting like this, my prince." She was serious, yet, there was a bite of rebellion behind her eyes.
Sitting on the ground, Daeron joined her. Body instantly relaxed, he couldn’t help but smile when in her presence. Teasing her, he asked, "Why not?"
She seemed thrown off by the question. The answer was obvious, they both knew that these meetings weren’t innocent or friendly. While nothing happened, the underlying feelings between them both were forbidden.
"It is inappropriate." She simply replied, turning away from him defiantly.
"Is it now? How so?" Daeron leaned in, getting closer to her than ever before. Even though they were still quite far apart.
Facing him once more, her face held a sadder weight as she reminded him, "I am to be married in a few days."
"I see no issue with us sitting here and talking." He lied, as though they both believed that was the only thing going on. "It would only be wrong if you believe a conversation would lead to other, more inappropriate things."
“You are insufferable.” She scoffed with a chuckle.
“Yet you do not leave.” Daeron pointed out, knowing that even though she thought it wrong, she too enjoyed it.
“No I do not.” She agreed, proving his point.
Silence fell upon both of them, the sound of wood splitting from the fire’s heat filled the air. She went back to her book, propping the book against her arched legs. Her finger trailed across the page as she tried not to lose her spot.
Daeron found her cute, the way she squinted, taking in the information before her. How she unconsciously bit at the dry skin of her lips. The fact that in a few days time, she would be another man’s, killed him.
Trying to push the thought away, he asked, “Are you reading the same book as last time?”
“No, I finished that one.” She kept her finger on the page so she didn’t lose her spot.
“Another romance?” He wondered, just wanting to hear her talk.
“It is about flowers and their meaning.” She said with a sigh. “The romance made me too sad.”
“Is it because you do not wish to marry Ruben?” Thinking outloud, he realized that maybe he shouldn’t have brought it up. It was clearly a touchy subject for them both.
“Don’t-” She began to warn. Stopping herself, she chose to use different wording than originally thought. “Do not speak on things you can’t understand.”
“It is true though.” Daeron continued to press.
The ache in his chest was beginning to grow. He wanted to release it, needing to for his sanity. The only way to do that was to talk to her, get her to admit that it was all bullshit: Her marriage with Ruben.
Her walls began to rise, knowing that only bad things would come from a conversation like this. With an air of arrogance, she asked “And how do you know this?”
“I know you.” He said truthfully. Still keeping his eyes trained on her, Daeron leaned his head back on the couch.
“You know nothing about me.” She reminded him sharply.
It was mostly true, to her anyway. They had only had two conversations previously. He didn’t know her favorite color, how she liked her food, or if she preferred a sweet Dornish wine to an Arbor Red.
What he did know was that she was his saving grace. His light amongst the dark. His other half. His everything.
“I know what you want.” He reiterated.
“Since you are Ser Know-It-All” Straightening her back, she questioned him. “What do I want? Hm?”
He wished to say it, scream it to the world. But the words caught in his throat. The fear of being wrong took him over. They both knew it, yet the small chance of embarrassing himself forced him to pause.
Changing the topic, he thought it would be better to state his own intentions instead. “I want you.”
She twitched in shock, not expecting his boldness. Opening her mouth, she went to say something before quickly closing it. It took her a moment to form a response: finally saying, “That doesn’t answer the question.”
“You want to marry for love. A love you can never find with Ruben.” Her flustered reaction gave him the confidence to speak bolder. “One that I feel deep down that we can have.”
The confidence dwindled as fast as it was built, as she said nothing, staring at him. Her face was unreadable, not giving him the normal view into her soul. Beginning to fear the worst, Daeron quickly tried to formulate a response, a way to go back on his word so he couldn’t embarrass himself further.
Without a moment more to spare, she lurched forward. Her swiftness gave him no time to respond, leaving him stunned like a deer. Pressing her body into his, she connected them at the lips.
Her fits balled at his tunic, forcing him to stay put, as if he would leave. Her entire being consumed him. Her lips were soft, only brushing against his lightly. It was clear she had never kissed before, that she didn’t know what she was doing.
Yet, it was the best thing to ever grace his foul lips. He loved her. That was where he was supposed to be, against her, lips pressed together. For the first time ever in his life, he felt whole. That the hole inside of him had been filled. By her, by her love.
It was over as quick as it started. She pulled away before he could lean into her more. Before he could express how deeply he felt for her. Even though they were away from one another for only a moment, it felt wrong.
“I didn’t want my first being Ruben.” She quickly explained, knowing it was wrong for her to force him into it. “I should have asked-”
The barrier was broken, as the flood of emotion was now released, crashing against the stone walls. Not wanting to hear anymore of her nonsense, he cut her off, reconnecting them.
Daeron hand found her waist, holding it tightly, as if it were the only thing keeping him tethered to the world. Their lips moved against one another. Her hands traveled from his chest to his neck, tangling in his messy hair.
Wishing to go farther, needing her, Daeron leaned his weight into her. The feeling of him overtook her as she moaned ever so lightly. Every form of restraint in Daeron’s body broke as his lips trailed from her face down to her neck.
The action startled her as she pulled away from his grasp. They both sat there in silence, breathing heavily, catching their breath.
“Sorry.” She mumbled, backing away farther from him. “I shouldn’t- We shouldn’t-”
“No one is here. It is just us.” He cooed lightly, scooting closer so they might be one again.
Shaking her head, she used her fingers to cover her lips. With her eyes held wide, it was clear she was horrified by her actions, of what they had done. Fearful of what would come next. Her chest rose with her quick breaths.
“Run away with me.” Daeron asked.
While his brain wasn’t caught up with his mouth, he meant it. There was no world where he couldn’t have her after that. No world ever worth living in. If it meant that he would have to disappoint his father once more, he was willing to do it.
“What?” She asked quietly, like if she spoke any louder, someone would find out what they had just done.
“We can run away. Get married.” He explained further, liking the idea the more he thought about it.
“There are too many negative possibilities.” She shook her head, scared of the prospect. “We would become outcasts.”
“For a while, maybe.” Daeron reached his hands out to grasp hers. Rubbing his thumbs over the shaking hands, he continued. “But they will come to accept us in due time.”
“No.” She said more firmly, realizing what it would mean for her. “We cannot. I cannot.”
“Yes you can.” Pulling her hands closer to himself, he tried to get her to see reason. “I love you. Please.”
His words went unanswered as he leaned in to kiss her once more, to make her understand how serious he was. To promise that everything would work out in the end if she just agreed.
Removing herself from Daeron completely, she stood to her feet. Looking up, he pleaded with her quietly, begging her to stay. Begging her to commit herself to him as he has done for her. Tears began to build in her fear stricken eyes, sliding off her face and landing on his face.
When Daeron reached out for her dress, wishing to bring her closer, she stepped away, quickly heading to the door without a word.
Daeron was a fuckup. He knew that. Everyone knew it. Constantly disappointing his father was one thing, having the love of his life leave him stranded in the library after pouring his heart on the floor was another.
Before she could exit the room, the door opened, causing her to take a moment of pause. Maekar stood in the entrance, confused to see her so startled. She was quick to regain composure, pushing past the prince with a small apology.
Seeing Daeron sitting on the floor, Maekar’s face hardened, knowing his son had something to do with the woman’s stress. “What have you done?”
“I did nothing!” Daeron was quick to defend himself, as she was the first one to kiss him.
Maekar didn’t believe Daeron one bit, striding across the library to get to his son. “Get up. We need to talk.”
“I don’t feel like talking.” Daeron responded sadly. He felt as though he had just died, the last thing he needed was his father spouting his words of disappointments.
“I don’t care. Get up.”
Reluctantly, Daeron rose from the ground, following him out of the library. Following his father sluggishly, Daeron knew exactly what was going to happen, what was going to be said. Even though he was in a disheveled state, he knew he needed to keep his head up, stay strong, lest he make an even bigger mistake that night.
Next ->
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I am super excited for the next chapter! School is starting back up soon, so i do not know when I will be able to get it out, but it will be soon so stay on the lookout for that!!
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About: Daeron dreamed of the same woman for ten years, saving him from his horrific nightmares. He knew her, but never met her before. No dreams could predict what would happen when he finally finds her in the most unexpected situation.
I do not read the books. I am basing most of the fic off of own personal beliefs of his character, and what I have seen so far in the show. (i do a bit of research here and there though.)
no use of Y/N
Chapter 2: The Cage that Keeps the Bird from Flying
Word count: 4,106
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It was a cruel fate, having his bedchambers above the gardens. Two days ago he thought the garden looked bland: boring and grey. But now the view had a new found vibrance in them. The woman that saved Daerion from his dreams many times walked through them, arm linked with her betrothed.
Even though he could see her clear as day, it was as if she were a completely different person. Standing stiff, she held herself properly, just as she did when her mother caught them. Her back was straight as she looked like she was practically floating.
It was obvious that it was the facade she had to put on for others. One that portrayed the perfect daughter, perfect wife. A woman who held herself high and mighty so people couldn’t see through the cracks.
But he saw them.
Daeron saw past the beautiful ceramic shell. That she was weighted down by the expectations of others. She was meant to flourish, spread her wings and fly. There was nothing more that Daeron wished to do than help her achieve that.
She was caged in, and the man who held her arm was that cage, Daeron could feel it.
How could he compete?
Ruben was a respectable man, one that had a good reputation. All Daeron was ever known for was being a notorious rake. Oh how he would change those ways to just be by her side. Life was cruel. How could he destroy the cage?
He wished to challenge Ruben to a duel. The prize being her hand in marriage. But he would most definitely lose, and there is no way anyone would agree to such a thing with their wedding only a few weeks away. The dark thought of slipping something awful into Ruben’s cup did cross Daeron’s mind, but he didn’t have the courage to go through with it.
So he was left to sink into the cups, sitting beside the windowsill, wishing that it was him by her side, holding onto her arm as they discussed their future.
It was killing him. Yet, he couldn’t look away. It was a sickening way of self harm, watching how Ruben would look at her and how she would mechanically nod her head in response.
Stopping in the middle of the garden, Ruben stepped in front of her, keeping her from walking away. His hand moved up her arm making its way to her chin. Holding her face, Ruben leaned into her, too close for anything proper. No one would care if they got caught, their wedding was right around the corner. So what’s an almost kiss in the quiet, empty garden?
Ruben whispered words to her, ones that were only meant for the both of them. She gave a formal smile, not one of genuine care, but because she was expected to. Agreeing to whatever he had said.
It was all trained, procured from years of lessons and forming. Daeron saw it in her face. That she would be plagued by a life of pretending if she married Ruben, never being able to be her true self as she bears child after child for him.
Pulling away from her, Ruben walked away, abandoning her in the grass. Daeron stayed at the window for a moment more, seeing what she would do, where she would go. She only took a few steps, sitting on the cold hard ground, under the willowtree.
The long strings of branches covered her, obstructing his view. Without a second thought, he left his room, needing to see her, needing to speak with her. His steps were quick, echoing down the long bland hallway.
Daeron was on a mission, one that ended with sitting in the garden and talking with her until the sun had gone to sleep. But like any good journey, there were obstacles.
Word had gotten out to Lord Flint’s daughters that Daeron was open to marriage. A lie spread by none other than his father. Believing they had a chance with a prince, the ladies began to cling to him, showing off their best traits in hopes that it would attract him.
The most adamant one was Emely. Youngest out of the five Flint daughters. Rambunctious is how her father described her, but she was far more than that.
She practically looked identical to her brother, the only main difference was her being the same age as Daeron. Shoulder length black hair, dark eyes, and broad shoulders. Her clothes were as dim as her house, dressed in greys and blacks. The only thing that made her stand out was the red ruby necklace that hung from her neck.
It was like she was stalking him, popping up wherever he went, trying to join him in any activity. If he said he were leaving to visit the brothels, she still would have found some excuse as to why she was headed there as well.
“Good afternoon, my prince.” Emely politely greeted. Her eyes were sharp, like a predator luring their prey closer so they could pounce.
“Afternoon.” Daeron responded, attempting to walk past her.
Stepping in front of him was most impolite, but Emely didn’t care, she had her eyes on the prize, and would do anything to get what she wanted.
“What brings you out of your room on this fine day?” She wondered with a tilt of her head.
Daeron had barely left the confines of his accomidations in the past two days. After the conversation with his love, he found it most difficult to see her with another man. He wished to be alone with her, have another conversation, but someone always got in the way.
He thought it was better to stay in his room, save him from the pain. Telling everyone he wasn't feeling well, he locked himself away. Maekar knew it was a lie, believing that Daeron was using it as a distraction to sneak out and attend the local taverns and brothels. While he wasn’t sneaking out, he was enjoying the comfort of wine in the room that felt more like a cage.
“I am headed to the garden. I needed some fresh air.” Daeron regretted his words, the second they left his mouth. Maybe it was the wine that let it slip, but he knew he should have lied to Emely.
“What a coincidence,” Emely said out of fake surprise, just as expected. “I was headed there as well. We shall walk together.”
Emely grabbed onto Daeron’s arm, making it where they would walk closer than wanted. He was quick to shimmy out of her grasp, not wanting to be touched by her. To his dismay, Emely wasn’t one to pick up on ques. Or rather, she did not care about the obvious discomfort Daeron felt, grabbing onto his arm once more.
“Are you feeling better?” She softly wondered, looking up to him. Fluttering her eyes, she believed it made her look more attractive. “Your father said you have been feeling ill these past couple of nights."
“I am not feeling too much better.” Daeron grimaced, feeling worse now that he had a leach attached to him. Trying to come up with a way to get her off, he said, “You might want to stand away from me, lest you catch anything.”
“How kind of you to think of my health.” Emely sighed dreamingly believing he cared for her. “But I have the immune system of a vulture. So I shall be fine.”
Vulture was the perfect way to describe the woman. Daeron felt as though he was dying, being forced to watch as his soulmate paraded around with another man. And there Emely was, watching. Waiting for him to fall over and take his last breath, so she could sink her teeth into him and tear his flesh from his bones.
“Have you been enjoying our wine?” Emely spoke up, trying to find another topic to speak about. Since the stingy smell of alcohol stuck to him, she thought it was something she could bring up. “We are known to make the best wine in all of the Seven Kingdoms."
It was an obvious lie. As a connoisseur of alcohol, Daeron knew that The Arbor made the best wine in the Seven kingdoms. The wine made in Flint’s Finger was bitter. Not in the good way. It was bad, rotten tasting. On the brighter side, it was much stronger, allowing him to forget his worries quicker. No matter what, nothing could be better than Dornish wine.
“It is okay.” He grumbled, already quite done with Emely’s antics.
Daeron had to remind himself what he was doing it for. When entering the garden, he immediately began looking for the willow tree, not knowing exactly how to get there. Having Emely hang onto him was dreadful. The last thing Daeron wanted was his love to believe that he was taken with Emely. Or would be so brash to want both women. Sadly enough for him, his reputation would lead any person to both conclusions.
Sitting under the willow tree, she read a book. One Daeron questions where it came from, not seeing her with one earlier. His heart began to pound in his chest, hearing it in his own ears. He feared that Emely would somehow feel it under her fingertips as it reverberated throughout his whole being.
“Ah sister!” Emely happily greeted, noticing the other person. “What a surprise to see you in the garden”
It did not surprise Daeron one bit. This was what he wanted all along, to see her, to be near her. Though there was another, he had hoped that she could be herself, not having to hold up her walls like she did with Ruben.
“I am not your sister yet.” She reminded Emely.
Her tone was as plain as her expression as her eyes stayed trained to her book. It was clear that she too did not enjoy the shrinking of Emely. Another thing they shared in common.
“You practically are.” Emely told, with a chuckle. “Ruben is smitten with you, and us girls have already accepted you.”
Looking up from her book, she gave Daeron a fleeting stare, like she did not want Daeron knowing that information. Even though it was clear to everyone, with how Ruben treated her. Her eyes were almost pleading, begging for him to take her away from the marriage. That she didn’t want anyone else knowing how much the family liked her, when she didn’t like them.
At that moment, Daeron knew. He had to do something. But what?
Going back to her book, she returned to being stone cold. “And yet, we have not married.”
“In due time.” Emely rolled her eyes, not understanding the resistance.
Daeron took the moment of pause to make sure Emely didn’t pull him away. “Do you mind if we join you?”
“I was thinking-” Emely began to protest, wanting alone time with the prince.
She was quick to cut Emely off, also wanting to talk more with Daeron. “Of course not.”
Daeron plopped himself down on the dirt, before Emely could argue. Being forced to join, she sat beside Daeron, sitting a little too close for comfort. Sticking to her book, she continued to read, as Emely and Daeron conversated.
“I must ask where you got that scar. Was it in battle?” Emely asked, looking at the healed over skin that traveled from his lips to his ear.
“Emely, you shouldn’t ask such questions!” She scolded, knowing it was rude.
Daeron was not one for gloating, especially when it came to his body. The way he got the scar was truly embarrassing. The moment he fell from his horse, in hopes of not fighting, the beast trampled over him, almost caving his head in. He was lucky the only thing he was left with was a mutilated ear and a scar on the cheek.
He wanted to lie. Say that he got it in a grand battle that was won because of him singled handedly. But he couldn’t. To avoid the embarrassing facts of truth, he simply said, “I got it in the Trial of Seven in Ashford."
“I remember hearing about that.” She poked her head up from her book, closing it on her finger. It was clear that the contents of the trial interested her.
“It makes you look even more attractive.” Ignoring her, soon to be sister, Emely tried to make her advance toward Daeron. Wanting to emphasize her point, she asked “Don’t you agree sister?”
“I’m not your sister yet.” She plainly reminded Emely. “But, I do agree. Didn’t your brother lose the duel horribly?”
She wore a small smirk, testing him. Not the bland, polite smile she had given Ruben when he held her so close. But one of genuine fun. Even though they were shaded under the tree the sun blinded him.
It was clear, she wanted him to play with her. Giving back the same energy, he said, “I believe you already know the outcome.”
“I might.” She shrugged, smiling more.
She knew, that was obvious. It wasn’t an unknown fact that Aerion embarrassed himself for the whole world to see. What he didn’t expect was for her to be a gossip, caring about the details of a thirteen year old’s horrific birthday party.
“Were you there?” Daeron wondered. Knowing that his heart would have been drawn to her if she were near, he added, “I feel as though I would have seen you if you were.”
“I was not.” She told him plainly. “My family doesn’t have the means to travel like that.”
“I was there!” Emely butted in, feeling left out. “Ruben had brought me along with him.”
It was another lie that spewed from the girl’s mouth. Daeron for a fact knew that the Flint’s weren’t there. His father wouldn’t have been so excited to see the son of his old friend if they had already met at Ashford. And, if she truly were there, she would have known where Daeron’s scar came from.
Adding onto the suspicion, she commented on Flint's financial situation, “I thought your family hadn’t gone because money was being saved for the wedding.”
“No!” Emely fought back, not appreciating being undermined. “There was enough for me and Ruben. I saw you in the Trial of Seven. You fought gallantly for your brother's honor.”
Lies after lies, that was all that came out of Emely’s mouth. He hadn’t fought gallantly, falling over right after the horn blew its music into the air. Emely was trying to rub up to him, trying to get him to believe she truly cared. It reminded him of the way the whores would treat him, hoping to get an extra coin.
The other person in the conversation could tell, but decided not to fight it anymore. It was clear that she didn’t want to get on Emely’s bad side, as they soon would be family. Oh what a horrible thought that was.
Before they could continue anymore, another person walked into the garden. She was much older than the other three, having an added air of authority as she called out.
“Emely.” The eldest Flint sister shouted into the open garden. “Emely, where have you gone?”
Emely groaned loudly. Falling back onto the grass, it was clear that she didn’t want to leave the conversation. Didn’t want to leave Daeron. She had hoped that if she stayed quiet, her sister would give up and walk away.
That was not going to happen, as Layla screamed, “Emely!”
“What?” Not appreciating being yelled at, Emely shouted back.
“Mother is calling for us.” Layla walked over to the group of people, following Emely’s voice.
“Do I have to go?” Emely tried to argue with her sister, “We were having a nice discussion and I would hate to leave it.”
“Yes.” Layla said sternly. “It is about the wedding.”
“You and our other sisters could handle it.” Emely pointed out, knowing that without her, there would still be four others to make decisions. “I am not needed.”
“Emely!” Layla was fed up with the constant resistance from her youngest sibling.
“Fine.” Emely groaned. Before she stood, she leaned into Daeron more, getting too close for comfort before telling him, “I shall see you at dinner. I will make sure to save you a seat next to me.”
Daeron withered away in disgust. He hated it, having a woman he could care less about be so brazen in her attempts to woo him. It was embarrassing, truly. Emely didn’t care, as long as she got what she wanted in the end.
Emely never would. Daeron didn’t want to marry, or rather, he used to. Before, he didn’t even know if the woman that appeared in his dreams were real. Possibly being a fragment of his imagination as a way to cope. But now, he knew she was real, and she sat beside him. Even if she did get married to Ruben, she had him, and no other woman would.
“She has marked you.” She chuckled, gracing the silence with her voice.
Yet again, her demeanor changed. It was calmer, lighter than a moment ago. It was weird. Nice, that even as a stranger, she let down her guard when it came to him. Even so, she wasn’t as free as a few nights previously. Anyone could walk in on the two, or see them through a window.
“How awful.” Daeron groaned, leaning back on his hands.
“Better you than me.” She sighed out of slight relief. “When I arrived, she was making all of the wedding decisions for me.”
While he hated the way Emely acted, he was more than willing to put up with it if it meant he could protect her.
“I fear it will be void of any color with that family planning anything.” Daeron jest.
Humming in response, the silence filled the air once more. They only looked at one another, trying to read what the other was thinking. It was as if she were trying to tell if he felt it too, the strange invisible string that tied them together.
In an instant, she was snapped out of it, realizing that he too could see her. It was clear she was embarrassed, knowing it was improper for a lady to stare so brazenly at any man, let alone a prince.
“I am glad to see you are feeling better.” She was quick to change the subject, fiddling with the pages of her book. “The girls and I were beginning to worry for your health.”
Only hearing what he wanted to, Daeron pointed out what she said, “You worry for my health?”
It made his chest tighten. A tingling sensation ran over his entire body, hearing those words. Maybe it was because of his selective hearing, but to him, those words meant that there was some part of her that cared for him as well. That she thought about him after their initial meeting.
Noticing his reaction, she sat up straighter, trying to hide herself, her feelings.
“I worry for your health as I worry for the king's health.” She reiterated, tone more flat than before. “You are a prince of the realm, I hope that you live a long and prosperous life.”
Never before did he believe he would live a long, prosperous life. For years he drank himself into an early grave, in the hopes that one day he would go to sleep and never wake again. But now he felt otherwise, wishing to wake up to her face, in her arms.
“I apologize for the other day.” Trying to find another topic, in hopes that it wouldn’t end like the other ones, she said. “I won't lie, I was a bit drunk. Yet, that is no excuse for me to act out of turn.”
“Truthfully, I wasn’t drunk enough.” He huffed out.
It was true, Daeron wished he had the confidence to tell her everything, admitting that they were meant for one another. But he couldn’t find the right way to say it without sounding insane.
She laughed again, and Gods he could listen to the noise all day. He thought it impossible to fall in love with her anymore, yet she found a way to entrap him more.
Adding on, Daeron told her honestly, “Do not apologize. It was nice to have someone be themselves around me."
“It is nice to have a person that I can be myself around.” She said with a smile.
Even though he already knew, with the way she would immediately relax around him, it was still nice to hear her admit that she was open with him.
“Me as well.” Wondering what made him different, Daeron asked, “Why is it that you feel so safe with me?”
In truth, he was instigating. She was engaged, to be married in a few weeks. There was no way he could declare his love so publicly without backlash. But if she were to do it first, then it would be a different story.
“I honestly have no clue.” She shrugged. “What about you?”
“I don’t know either.” Daeron had to lie, just as Emely had done to him.
His confidence began to wane, as the effects of the alcohol started to wear off. Mouth going dry, he looked around to see if there was a pitcher nearby. To his greatest dismay, there was not.
Not wanting to embarrass himself further, he wished for the attention to be put on her. “What are you reading?”
“Oh, it's just some stupid book I would read as a young girl.” Flipping the book, she made sure the title was hidden against her legs. It was clear she was embarrassed by it.
“You seemed interested in it.” Daeron pried, wanting to know more about her interests. “It can't be that dumb.”
“It's a romance.” She sighed almost sadly. Shoulders tense, she waited for him to make fun of her. “A very cliche one, might I add”
“Romance?” Daeron asked with a small smile. “I didn’t peg you as a romantic.”
“Silly isn’t it?” She chuckled bitterly. Her frame was defeated, saddened by the fate that was forced upon her. “The one who is in an arranged marriage still wishes for a true, deep love?”
“I don’t think it’s silly at all.” Daeron was quick to comfort her.
“Ruben is a kind man. A good man.” It sounded more as though she were trying to convince herself more than anything. “I know with time I will learn to love him.”
“But it is not the love you are looking for.” Daeron added on, understanding what she was getting at.
“No. I want that kind of love where from the moment you meet, you know that they’re the one.” She was getting closer to saying what she wanted. What they both felt. “Do you believe in that kind of love?”
“I do now.” The words poured out of his mouth before he could even think.
Tension fell on them like an anvil, hard and unmoving. It was the confirmation that they both needed. It wasn't imagination, it was meant to be. They were meant to be.
“I need to tell you something- I know it may sound impossible, but I believe-” Daeron began to admit, hoping she would understand.
“Ahh there you are.” Another voice cut them off as footsteps approached.
The tension tour as she straightened her back, putting on a font. “Ruben.”
Pushing past the long, dangling branches of the willow tree, Ruben saw the scene before him. His soon to be wife sitting tall against the trunk of the tree, and a prince lounging at her feet. His face hardened as his body straightened.
“Supper is ready.” He said more sternly than before.
“Right.” She quickly responded, scrambling to her feet to take her place beside her betrothed.
Ruben placed a hand on her back, territorially. The way he looked at Daeron was proof that Ruben could tell something was there. Something that could ruin his wedding before she even walked down the aisle.
“Oh,” She turned to Daeron before walking away. “What were you saying?”
“It was nothing.” He shook his head. “I think I am not feeling well again. I shall have supper in my room.”
As Daeron rose to his feet, she gave him a sad look. They both knew it was a lie, but with Ruben there, nothing more could be said, lest he found out how deep the attraction between the two went.
Next ->
-ˋˏ ༻𖤓༺ ˎˊ-
My midterms are finally over and I have finished my Aerion fic, so now all of my attention should hopefully be going into this one!!! Since the chapters are longer, I do not have a sepecific posting time! But bare with me, I will finish this fic!!!! Hopefully sooner rather than later lol. I do have 10 chapters planned out. I might extend it if it feels too cramped. Either way, I really hope you all will enjoy what I have planned for yall <3
You should consider joining my discord server! I am most active there and I would LOVE to talk to yall about this fic. I am so so excited and just wanna ramble on about it with people who are interested! (Link here: https://discord.gg/32eEn7XyuE)
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