DRAGONSBANE ✧ CHAPTER THREE
·˚ ༘ sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ. long before the dance of the dragons, back when the rogue prince was still young, he was every bit of the title bestowed upon him. rarely adhering to anyone but his own whims, daemon had no interest in anything but his own desires. the only thing that intersected these desires and whims was his sister, viselle targaryen, a young lady who was every bit the princess the crown could have wanted. they were inseparable, in love, and often caused more trouble than good when around each other, and like playing with fire both would have burned the world down for one another. ·˚ ༘ ᴛᴀɢs. no tags for this chapter ! ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ ✧ ᴀᴏ³
So as night fell upon them once again, the clouds low and choking out the midnight moonlight, Daemon and Viselle picked up the pieces of their life to run away.
Daemon still had her gathered in his arms as they savored the choice they had made. He remained unspeaking, allowing for Viselle to gather her thoughts, and when she was ready she had let him know. It was done so as a soft kiss upon his lips with a gentle pat upon his cheek and in seconds he set her upon the ground, but not yet allowing for her to leave his arms. He held her still as they stood next to the window beside the bed, both illuminated by the icy moonlight.
“The moon remains high in the sky, yet it feels like we have no time.” She says softly into his chest as a certain calm falls over her now, no tears remaining in her heart.
“Soon it will just be us, no longer shall we have to bow to others or their demands. And you shall be mine, by right, and in my arms as my bride.” Daemon replies as he runs a finger through her hair. Her head remains upon his chest and she can hear his heart. It is calm but strong, a certain fierceness in him that remained even at rest.
“A promise I intend to hold you to, brother, or else I will throw myself to the waters.”
Viselle moved to look up at Daemon then and her hands were against his chest. She stood upward and pulled him into a proper kiss, no words to share other than a promise that only a kiss could make. She felt his fingers fall down from her hair to her jaw in order to pull her close and deeply, the same strength that beat in his heart had laid on his lips then.
“Then if we intend to keep you from a watery grave, then we must go.” The Prince says breathlessly seconds later, his lips still close to hers as she looks back up to him. Mismatched eyes meeting violet ones, how they peered into the other so fully and so full of love.
“Gather your things, sister, and I shall go to the door to watch for others.” He says as his arms stayed around her for only a moment longer. She nods, accepting that it truly was time to leave as they had already stayed longer than anticipated.
So through the throws of the night, and after much kissing and reassuring one another, it was time to put their plan into action.
“I must gather small things,” she says with a deep intake of air, catching her words with full lungs as her hands fell down his chest to turn away. “I must gather mother’s ring, first, and with it the other precious items.”
Daemon caught her hand then, much like she did earlier in the garden, but unlike then he caught her gently. She turned back to look at him and his eyes peered into hers, like as if to study her. She gave him a curious look but he squeezed her hand, a familiar warmth in the action.
“I love you, Viselle, and I would kill anyone that should harm you.” he says after a second, her name catching her heart. It’s not like he ever used it, it was almost used like a pet name in regard to Daemon.
“I know,” she says after a second of taking it in, her hand squeezing back. “and I love you too, Daemon. It wont be so easy to take me from you.”
Daemon smiles and it’s wolfish under the moonlight. Their hands part, he himself turning then just as she did, and just like that she was searching for something different from the red that she wore. Something dark to slip away into the night in.
Daemon posted up next to the door, an ear close and carefully listening for the sound of any footwork that may have lingered in the hallway. He watched her as she searched the night for what she had needed and found himself quietly enamored by her, the flounce of her white curls the only thing he could see as she searched the wardrobe.
Fingers laced through different velvets and silks, some lighter than others, and she searched through every bit of her dresses to find the right one. But then there it was, she felt the wool beneath her hands, and she set to fish it out.
Viselle pulled out the black robe and looked at it. Plain, unassuming, and more importantly dark in color. After a final glance at it and decisive in her choices, her hands fell to her gown and she began to unlace it. Firstly to the collar at her throat that hid away the bruise and it was the first to feel freeing as it became untied. Next the lace upon her arms and then the lace at her waist, something that was constricting was now a loose robe that barely clung to her body.
It was the first bit of freedom for her.
So the clothes fell from her as the pale flesh became cold and pimpled in the cool air. Daemon’s eyes, watching the shadows dance around her, as the dying light illuminated her body. It was in this moment he could see the bruises that still lingered, perhaps even darker now, and the one at her throat made his heart swell with love. Her eyes caught his as she pulled the black robe upward and a pale redness bloomed upon her cheeks.
It wasn’t often that he could get her to blush, and it made him want to hold her, kiss her, but he knew he couldn’t. Not yet.
“Tell me your thoughts?” She asks after she ties the fastenings closed, turning to the moonlight for his approval.
“You remind me of a clear night, when there are no clouds and just the moon,” he says with a nod, his eyes sharp and watching her as she brushes hair behind her ears. “You should be ravaged.”
Viselle gives him a sharp look of her own the . “Careful, Daemon. You convince out of these clothes and I will be a Hightower bride before long.”
But a deep smile curls his lips and he leans against the frame of the door. “A petty remark that will only be repeated later at my mercy. I shall keep a tally and you will be singing all night for me.”
The princess looks at him and he smiles, something she mirrors just before turning. She moves to a chest that lay at the foot of her bed to continue on, and she reaches with a slow hand careful to keep it from creaking too loudly. It was a cedar box of few things but inside to the right there was an even smaller box. She is quiet, quick, and she scoops up the box to gather what lay inside. A small golden ring carved into the shape of a dragon with a bright ruby eye- it had been her mother’s. It felt safe to put her egg next to it, the one that never hatched.
To the left wrapped in a red gold scarf was a dragon egg, still stone and still unhatched, hidden just in case someone sought to steal it.
It had been placed in her cradle the moment she was born, her mother Alyssa had said that in time she would have her dragon. It felt like a promise and long after her mother’s death, long after growing into a woman, Viselle had maintained that promise in her heart. The truth was she knew she would never have a dragon of her own, the dreams told her so.
But still she put on the ring and gathered the egg next. It was a deeply precious thing to her, for many reasons really, but one of hope to her. Twenty years and still with no dragon, but it could change. Everything could change, right?
So Viselle now with her ring and her egg padded toward Daemon who waited for her by the door. She looked up to him and their eyes met, a shared moment, just as he wrapped a dark cloak around her. The hood hid the white curls and the cloak hid her egg- he was careful not to hurt her as he fastened the knot beneath her throat.
“A princess, or a thief?” He asks as he notes the outfit, just a moment of play to keep her spirits up.
“Careful, Rogue Prince, you continue to corrupt all those that you know. You just might prove our brother right.” She quips back but he only smiles wolfishly at her.
“Another remark I will have to reprimand you for. By the end of the night you will have sealed a very sore fate.” He says as he lowers down to kiss her. She kisses him back and this time it is different, one of longing. Beneath her cloak she holds the egg close to her heart and she feels him place a hand upon it, like a hand placed upon a belly full with a child.
“But let us go, before we have no more night to cover for us.” He says as he gathers her free hand in his. There was no one in the halls and he knew a quiet route without anyone stopping them, the perks of being an overly rebellious child years before.
Daemon held her hand in his as he guided her down a set of stairs that were barely lit by the dying flames of the torches. He also guided her down dark halls, avoiding others as much as possible. It felt like hours had passed but in truth the moon had barely passed through the sky: it was just the adrenaline of it all.
“Hold on.” he says as they stopped in a doorway, both quiet to listen to their surroundings. Her eyes looked up to him to try and find understanding but he watched as two servants had gone by them. Women, soft on their feet, but the way he watched them indicated that was not who he had meant.
“I heard Prince Daemon had caused quite the stir with the king, and now the king locks himself away for the evening away from the queen and little Rhaenyra.” one says to the other just as they pass, and both are listening intently to the gossip.
“I heard that Ormund Hightower arrives in a fortnight and that’s what it was all about,” the other replies with a giggle. “The princess is not keen on anyone but her brother being in her bed.”
Viselle’s hand tightens around his then and he looks back at her. It was true, she supposed, but what was even worse was that Viserys was right about many of them talking ill about them.
Eyes returned forward then after they were sure the maids had gone by, their gossiping laughs had only been echoes long after. Daemon pulled her through the shadows, careful to avoid everyone and their rumors.
So they pushed onward and when they heard people walking the two of them would hide in small doorways again, just long enough for others to pass. This time it was guards doing their routinely walkabout and they maintained their distance as well as silence. They were none the wiser and they were almost to their freedom of the hold.
He guided her to the back entrance of the gardens and in time the smell of the castle became that of cool midnight air laced with sea salt and a storm. It was different than that of the morning, the sunlight replaced by the moonlight, and it was almost haunting the way nothing seemed awake. Just two royals seeking to flee, and the garden kept their secret.
Somewhere far off in the distance just above the great, vast waters of the bay, storm clouds gathered and thunder rumbled. The flash of lightning strikes danced far beyond and there were many, just barely lighting the way forward as they stepped through the outstretches of the gardens.
As they passed the roses and the ivies she had remembered Daemon taking her there for the first time. The roses weren’t as they were then, something smaller and less wild. Not even the ivies had grown so tall. The tree however remained, old and wise, and it was like a father who never had to go for errands. It felt safe there and when Daemon brought her it was like the had breathed for the first time. Another reason she had loved the gardens, it was like another secret that they shared.
So clutched tightly to her breast beneath her cloak, her hand still in Daemon’s, Viselle cradled her egg as they continued through the last bit of the castle just before their freedom. They walked along the stone path and it was here that Daemon’s hand grew tighter. They were close and he wouldn’t have anything to ruin that for him.
But then there was a sound alongside the thunder, soft footsteps that followed behind at a quick pace, and it alerted the prince. Daemon turned upon his heel as his free hand fell to his sword all the while pushing Viselle behind him to put himself between her and the intruder.
“You should be killed for following us, girl.” Daemon says then as the blade is pulled out, the sharpness gleaming in the moonlight.
“My lady!” The words were quiet but alert as they sounded from beneath a dark hood. Blue eyes glimmered with the lightning flashes and they were laced with worry. Elena, for what it was worth, was holding a little bag and standing before the Prince and Princess like a pup, Daemon’s sword drawn to her.
Daemon’s brows furrowed at her, confused by her presence, but unrelenting of letting his sword go. He would not allow anyone to interfere, not even Viselle’s maid. Viselle however peered from behind her brother and found Elena’s eyes. They weren’t just worried, they were determined.
Daemon then looked down to his sister who in return looked to him. There was a silence between them, shared by the confusion of the girl who seemed to have followed them. Viselle’s own eyes knit with worry then as they had quietly confirmed that neither sent for her like Viselle had insisted upon. This means that Elena had been watching them, waiting, and more importantly following them.
“Please, my lady,” she says then and her hands gather tightly around her bag. “You might not trust me, not yet and not fully, but I have sworn myself to you. You are my princess and I am your lady, where you shall go I shall follow.”
Daemon turns to look at Viselle who is still quiet, still unsure about the girl before her. Elena’s eyes were wide and this night they were like sapphires; glittering, sad, and pleading to follow.
“You would be considered a traitor to the crown.” Daemon says flatly then, his eyes returning the girl knowing that Viselle was adamant that both Leona and Elena were to stay. “And more importantly, how do we know you won’t betray us?”
Elena looks fierce then, the fiercest she had ever seen the girl look before. Viselle finds herself full of pride then as she watches her maid look to the prince. “I know that I am just a girl, and that I am from no prominent family, but I am faithful.”
Her eyes look to Viselle then, that same determination now meeting hers.
“I may not have Daemon’s sword, but you have my word.”
Viselle’s mouth hardens and she steps out from behind Daemon to face her lady.
“Then Lady Thorne, I hope you share this same determination upon dragon back. Caraxes is not known for his elegance.”
Perhaps a bit of worry had settled upon her face at the word of dragon back but only for a moment had it lingered. Instead it flickered and was replaced by the same adamance that she had had before. “It will take more than dragon back to shake me, my lady.”
Daemon laughed then and moved to sheathe his sword. “Perhaps I was wrong,” he says after a second. “You do not belong as Master of Whispers, they have the wrong Thorne in the Kingsguard. Now hurry along before I change my mind.”
Elena gives Daemon a nod and all three turn to resume their path, out to the furthest reaches of the gardens and down a hidden path. It was something not many knew about, and more importantly something that only a few were allowed to use.
It winded down old stairs that descended into darkness and closer to the sea that began to whip violently against the rock as the storm continued. The prince, princess and maid found themselves being engulfed by the night and the air became tighter as they descended. The keepers had already been threatened, you see, as Daemon had stormed off earlier when Viselle spoke to Viserys. There was to be no one in the way unless they had wished to meet their end by the Prince, and all were to be killed if any were to utter a word to the king.
“Māzigon, Caraxes.” Daemon spoke into the darkness and both of the women stood behind him as he walked further into the dark. There was no sound at first, but then it sounded like a whistle as the ground shook beneath their feet; Caraxes’ head appearing from the shadows and illuminated by the wavering light of the final torch upon the wall. The red scales shimmered like dark, rich rubies against the dim light of the torch and he greeted Daemon as lovingly as a dragon could with soft whistles. He paid no attention to the women, just his master.
In truth Viselle had gone with Daemon upon dragon back only a handful of times before and though not scared of him, she had been the same amount of amazed every time the great red beast appeared. It looked to them with a curl of its neck, both of the women’s eyes open and wide, and Daemon outstretched his hands to greet him.
“Sȳz jobēs, avraidbar iksos daor.” He said softly and Caraxes leaned into the touch. Daemon was gentler than most would expect, a lover hidden beneath the violence, and it made Viselle clutch her egg closer to her heart. It was seeing things like this that only made her heart swell with both pride and love.
“Are you ready?” Daemon asks them as he had turned to look their way, his eyes curtly looking to Elena with a dangerous smile. “Turn back now and you won’t be considered anything lesser.”
But Elena stood firmly in her spot and as Viselle turned to look at her, a quick nod as she looked to him. “Yes, my prince, wherever you should need me I shall be.”
Daemon chuckled and patted Caraxes once more before guiding him further towards the opening of the pit, the world around them shaking before the great beast and its weight. Somewhere in the dark more noises sounded, each different than the others surrounding, and it was like a song, a goodbye even. Something she had heard before, distantly upon her memory, and if she had closed her eyes it was like a dream.
Viselle’s eyes peered into the shadows however and though she could not see who they were, she knew they stared back. For a long moment she stared into the dark and her thoughts drifted, unaware that Daemon had already mounted Caraxes and had helped Elena upon his back. Little fragments twinkled in her mind like stars twinkled in the night sky, like she was trying to piece a dream back together.
Perhaps this was the only moment she had felt sad, like she was truly running away to never return.
“My lady!” Elena said loud enough to catch her attention. Daemon and the maid had already been upon Caraxes, him in front and her in the back, and she outstretched her hand to catch her princess as Daemon held onto the reigns. Viselle spared no more time and handed her egg first to Elena and then grabbed onto Daemon’s now awaiting hand. Viselle sat in front, the feeling of the saddle hard between her legs but freeing, and before them the opening of the cave bled moonlight. It was further than expected but only in a few bounds would Caraxes been out in the open air: only a few bounds until their freedom.
But just like the eye of the storm, peace was momentary; just before they seized true freedom, they were halted just as Caraxes took his first steps.
“Leāves daor!” A keeper spoke, his voice louder than the thunder that sounded just at the opening. He stood like a silhouette, long and tall, as he stood between them and the open air. Daemon’s face remained unmoving as he stared down at him, his eyes almost a leer, as the keeper kept his hands before him.
“What has he said?” Elena asked, frightened by being caught.
“We may not leave.” Viselle says as she holds her egg close from beneath the robes, her own heart pounding just as hard as the thunder had clapped.
“Aeras, dietys.” Daemon says coldly to the man who refuses to move. Viselle knew what he had meant and what he would do. It wasn’t a threat but a command, and the keeper only had seconds to oblige his prince before he would die. The lightning lit the room up just enough to show the keeper’s own face of determination.
“Then death has been your choice,” Daemon says with little remorse, his voice cold. “Dracarys.”
What had been darkness had erupted into light as Caraxes obeyed his rider. The heat of the flame spewed out into the opening of the cave as the Keeper wailed shrilly into the night, the sound of death mixing with the smell of burning flesh. Elena gasped from the horror of it all and had choked on tears, all the while neither Daemon or Viselle visibly reacted- to them it was just an obstacle that had to be dealt with.
“To Dragonstone, Caraxes.” Daemon bellowed as the great beast swallowed the remainder of the flame, Viselle squinting to dim the heat. “They shall know me as the heir, as I intend to claim my right.”
Caraxes however took little time in keeping his master waiting. Seconds after the man perished was the only time it had taken before Caraxes bounded for the opening to take to the air. The heat trapped in the cave became cold salt air as the dragon clawed its way out, the air smelling sweet and clean as he ascended with a great flap of his wings. The whole time Elena cried, still shaken by the events that had unfolded, and when Viselle looked back to her she saw that she held onto Daemon, her face buried into his back. The winds whipped around their faces and their clothes bellowed as the dragon further climbed into the air. All the while Caraxes called out into the night as the storm approached from the bay.
Below them the Keep slumbered, totally unaware of the dragon that brought them to their freedom. Daemon spoke to Caraxes and both women inhaled the air as it grew thinner the higher in the sky they went. Turning her eyes forward, accepting that Elena had made her choice, Viselle knew that whatever happened was now to be made without regrets.
Since Viserys had ascended the throne only a few years before, Dragonstone had stayed empty waiting for an heir. None that had been born meant that Daemon intended to claim his rights. A bold move, something that was sure to anger Viserys much more than just stealing the princess from her Hightower betrothed.
"māzigon" - Come "sȳz jobēs, avraidbar iksos daor" - Good job, do not be afraid "leāves daor" - You may not leave "aeras, dietys" - Move, or die
