Daeron ‘The Drunken’ Targaryen (A Knight Of the Seven Kingdoms) x F!reader
Summary: A rather optimistic and compassionate young lady is promised to the Targaryen prince, Daeron. But after a disappointing dinner with everyone but her betrothed, she decides to go search for him herself, endeavoring on her own adventure.
TW: slightly suggestive at the end but not really
Author note: This fic is just something I wanted to get myself back into writing with, so in no way, shape or form it's any serious. Just a heads up: 80% of the fic is just the reader's shenanigans so if that's not something for you, feel free to read some of the other amazing fics we have so far in this fandom!! Also I absolutely did not proofread at all
You sat on a simple swing, swaying slowly back and forth. The light spring breeze played with loose strands of your hair, set free from your intricate hairstyle.
"I think I'm quite excited actually," you said.
The swing was decorated with overgrown vines climbing the sides of the string, small buds already showing their pinkish heads.
"Are you... sure?" one of your sisters, sitting straight on the swing next to you, asked. Clearly not wanting to insult you in any way, a worried expression appearing on her gentle features.
"Yes! Why wouldn't I be?" you dipped your head back, "It's thrilling!" you added in whispers, already daydreaming.
"Yes... thrilling." she offered you a soft smile, one that a person would offer to someone simple minded, one that spoke of it's own unsaid words; 'oh, my poor girl'.
Your mother set her goal to marry off all her children to the most noble of the most noble houses of Westeros. She has been quite succesful so far, but her triumphant strike was once she agreed to betrothe you to one of the king's grandsons. First son of the forth son wasn't so bad, even if she'd be happier with the hair to the throne himself, but alas he was already promised. Didn't matter. Royal blood was royal blood nontheless.
What worried your sister wasn't the chaos of royal court or the dangers lurking in the Red Keep; it was the man you were supposed to marry. Dearon Targaryen. Or Daeron the Drunken as most people knew him as. Maybe that's why the arrangement was so easy; no honorable house would ship off their daughter to some drunk, a whore and a slob.
But your optimism was as unwavering as the mountains, your luck as unmoving as the snow in the North. Soon you'd find out about all the rumors about your betrothed yourself, without judgement, without any other noble lady or ser whispering blatant lies in your ears. And it really was thrilling. You always wanted to see more of the world, the west, the south, you wanted to see everything for yourself to believe it, and this was a great opportunity.
Your clothing, jewellery, books and all the belongings you so dearly loved were already packed and ready for the travel. The journey won't be short, with stops along the way; it really felt like a grand leap into the unknown. Your sibling will all say their goodbyes, promise to write you letters, maybe your mother will shed a tear or two, but those tears would still be full of pride. She managed to raise an intelligent and wonderful young woman, whom she can call her daughter.
The food smelled wonderful, but your appetite wasn't really present. Out of respect you chewed on a nice piece of duck, rolling it around in your mouth with some wine, your mind wandering off in your thoughts in a minute of silence, accopanied by the sound of cutlery only. The candles were lit in the dining hall beautifully. It wasn't for your growing fatigue, maybe they wouldn't be making your eyelids so heavy.
Maekar cleared his throat, visibly irritated, You've never seen him anything else than visibly irritated but at least it wasn't directed towards you.
Your husband-to-be was nowhere to be found.
You had no idea where Daeron was and no one seemed to plan on telling you. But something was telling you the answer. Your sister's voice, gentle in your ear, a memory. ... probably somewhere black-out drunk, embarassing the whole family...
Prince Aerion stood up with a loud screech of his chair and walked away, his plate left behind just as full as yours. His rhytmic steps bringing you back to reality.
Someone excused himself from the table and followed the young prince in long strides. Maekar gripped his chair and closed his eyes, the headache already forming in his temples. To your confusion, Baelor apologized to you, not paying mind to the scene his nephew created, and called out for your swarm of maids to accompany you back to your bed chamber.
Was the dinner over already?
The various people, the scenery behind the windows, the towers, rooms and halls, decked in Targaryen motifs, telling stories of a great house with rich history. You tried to take it all in as you walked. This was your new home afterall.
You closed the door with a creak, quietly rushing over to your dresses.
But an idea sprung into your head as soon as you laid eyes on the cover of night outside, the small lights, some stronger, some fainter, illuminating from the tiny houses of King's Landing. Your body took action.
You shouldn't be doing this, you told yourself, wondering what would your mother say if she saw you slipping into a simple dark robe with a cloak to threw over your head. If she saw you opening your door once more to sneak away into the night. Or if she saw you looking back over your shoulder as you walked down the rocky pavement outside, the moon guiding your way. Yes, you were tired, but at the same time strangely restless. You cursed yourself under your breath, how dangerous could this midnight venture be. But you were quiet and carefull, hoping this won't just be some wild goose chase.
Once you slipped away from the castle, unseen and unheard, you were surprised how crowded the streets still were, even in this late hour. Less than during the day, the mass of people thinning nontheless. Even if someone was following you, this would give them an distraction.
You continued on walking down one of the narrower streets.
You wondered about Daeron. What was he like? What did he like? You knew he was said to be a dragon dreamer by some, but you weren't really sure what it meant. Maybe it was just some gossip. But even if, it was rather exciting, plus, you'd take a dragon dreamer over a mad man any day. You tried to envision him in the proper Valyrian attire, with neat hair and dark red cape, or in a pleated armour, adorned with a decorated helm and shiny sword. Like a real prince. But to your own disapproval, you solemnly realized you had no idea how he really looked like.
After a good few minutes, sure that you were far enough from both the castle and the city centre, you stopped and turned to the nearest people. "Do you know any inns around?" you asked two older women quietly, walking unhurriedly opposite direction.
One of the women pointed down the road for a second, various wrinkles forming on her forehead as she frowned.
You nodded, hoping the building will show itself to you soon, it's looming dark silhouette towering over the smaller wooden houses around. Now that was an inn where one could disppear.
You picked up your pace and pushed against the heavy door, welcoming smell of spiced food and alcohol conquering your senses immediately. Walking toward the counter you searched around for any signs of the man you were looking for, your eyes jumping from man to man, from drunkard to drunkard. Any glimpse of dusty blonde hair. Any purple eyes. Any sigil or rich material that would confess of high status.
"What can I get ya?" a burly man asked, making your head swing back to his direction.
"Do you, by any chance, know if... " you leaned closer, "if his Lord Prince Daeron resides here?"
"His Lord Prince?" The man answered with a dry chuckle, giving you a strange look as he spat on the counter to wipe a sticky stain. "No. I do not know where 'His Lord Prince' is." he shook his head in annoyance.
"Please, not even an idea?" you pleaded.
Once you were met with no response you reached into your pocket to take out one silver coin to plop down onto the wood.
The man looked up at you again, but just smiled and continued on wiping, ingoring your efforts completely.
You resigned with a sigh, taking back the silver coin to replace it with a shinier gold one.
The man's eyes lit up, but he tried to remain his unimpressed facade. He lazily slid the coin towards him. "The princeling doesn't go there. Try your luck down the road, just outside the town in the outskirts."
Down the road, in the outskirts. You told yourself in your head.
"Alright then. Good day." you turned on your heel. You gave the hall one last glance before leaving as quickly as you came, repeating the instructions. Down the road, in the outskirts. They were simple, but everything seemed more confusing in the night. You took out your leather canteen and took a quick swig of plain water, hoping it'll clear your thoughts a bit. You began hoping this night won't end with you somewhere in a ditch, robbed, dead or worse.
The streets were lit quite brightly so you didn't have to worry about visibility. It was the cold that began worrying you. Bothered, you tried to wrap your cloak closer to your body, but to no avail.
You quickened your pace, every step taking you further away from the warmth of your new chambers. You stopped. Was this really worth it? You weren't so far, you could return back.
Shaking your head a bit, you began walking again.
Nonsense. You were already out - it would have been a terrible defeat to retreat with no one, especially since you already decided to spent one Gold Dragon. You began regretting everything, but your regret wasn't as strong as your determination. Or maybe curiosity. You weren't really sure where it was coming from. But that didn't make you naive; you were open-minded and just trying to undertsand. Much to your sister's disbelief.
The less the houses the better it was for you. It meant you were reaching the outskirts, still following the road, eyes peeled for any inns, pubs or alehouses.
You saw a building in the distance, one that you'd suspect was the correct one. Hopefully. Smoke was coming from the crooked chimney and light shined through the simple windows. It sat on a muddy pile, with horses tied by the side entrance and vegetables growing in the humble garden. Far away from the bustle, but close enough to still have enough customers.
You could hear cicadas in the faraway trees and the faint murmur of patrons still awake. When you came closer, careful not to slide on the wet soil, you even saw a drunk man passed out by the front door, face down. Jumping over one of his limbs, you reached the front and finally entered inside.
It was much more cozy than the last inn. A strange nostalgic sensation foggied up your brain as you stopped by the owner, handing out drink at a nearby table.
"D'ya want something, dear? A room? A drink?" she asked, not rudely but still purposefully.
You stared at her for a second until finally blurting out, "Do you know where Daeron Targaryen is?"
The woman's expression changed. She propped one of her hands on her hips and looked away, letting her words linger. "Oh, dear."
A sudden panick began filling up your head with various scenarios.
He was with another woman.
Each worse than the one before. The worry must have been showing on your face as the woman placed one hand gently on your shoulder. She offered a motherly smile, "Just look outside, love."
Oh. You realised. Feeling a bit embarassed, you turned away without another word.
The man passed out under the door, face down in the mud - that was prince Daeron Targaryen. The first son of Maekar "The Avil" Targaryen and Dyanna Dayne, seventh in line for the crown and the Iron Throne, and, most importantly, the man you were supposed to spend the rest of your days with.
The chilly air outside embraced you for the numerous time today. You started at the man, a bit hopeless at what to do now that you've finally found him. You certainly wasn't expecting him to be in this state, even though you should have.
"My Lord," you whispered, leaning closer to him.
"My Lord!" you said a bit louder, nudging his shoulder.
You kneeled down besides him, taking him by his dark cloak, similar to yours, and slowly turning him around. His face was covered in mud and sweat, his skin glistening in the lights from the inn. His hair really is the color of sand, you thought to yourself. You also noticed his short stuble and pronounced eyebags. Admittedly, he'd be quite handsome if he wasn't in such situation as this.
"My Lord!" you whispered again, but to no end.
"Daeron!" leaning even closer, you could smell the stench of alcohol coming off of him. You tried shaking him gently. No response.
Absolutely defeated, you slid down besides him, sitting down in the squelchy mud and not even really caring about your dress anymore. You burried your face into your hand, not crying, just contemplating.
"Look at us, " you spoke, "can't tell which one is dumber."
Your mind wandered again to his dragon dreamer tales. If they spoke of truth it would have been horribly tragic. Seeing the future without the ability to change it, no wonder he swallowed his sorrows with wine. But maybe you were just trying to justify his action, even when you owed him nothing. Just trying to see the reason, the human nature behind this sad mess. Once he wakes up, you'll try to confront him, of course, but gently, understandingly. Isn't that what relationships should be about? Why force arguments and fights in this already strange allyship? Marriage isn't a battlefield to be conquered.
You took out your canteen and pressed it's rim against one corner of your cloak. Once it was soaked enough, you tried to wipe the dirt from Daeron's face, at least a bit. Hoping it would wake him up in the process, you repeated this motion at least three times.
He looked almost peacefull. It made you wonder if his dreams were equally nice.
You remembered when one of your friends back home accidentaly got herself quite drunk. She was taking massive gulps of water; to replace the wine from her body, she explained afterwards. It happened a long time ago but the method must still be functional, right? It was either this or force two fingers down one's throat.
Opening the man's mouth a bit, you lifted his head so the water wouldn't flow into his lungs and drown him. His face was warm and flushed against your cold fingers. You pressed the bottle at his lips, emptying it entirely as the liquid slid down his throat. It wasn't much so you doubted it would make any difference, but at least you tried something.
You weren't sure how much time passed.
It felt like hours as you sat besides the young prince in the mud, your knees pressed to your chest, wrapped with your arms to savour bits of your body heat. You didn't dare to move, not really sure whether to return and leave Daeron here or to stay and make sure he's fine. On one hand, he must have done this a million times; he'll surely be fine on his own. But on the other, you yourself would feel a whole lot safer with a man walking with you, even if he was drunk. Plus, there was another reason you were almost too embarassed to admit. Maybe you were trying to look at things by the brighter side, maybe you were just trying to romanticize your situation, but this felt quite intimate. You coudln't explain this feeling even if you really tried to.
The door suddenly swung open. A drunkard, barely standing on his feet shouted something illegible. Fear glued your unmoving body even more than before, freezing your blood and stopping your breath.
He shouted again, swaying his hands in the air. You planned your escape if it cane down to it. Your heart was beating fast. Your eyes shut close as you heard him approach. It wasn't until you heard his words more clearly.
"A horse for a bit of ale!" the man shouted, "A horse," he hicced, "for... for horse."
You turned to face him, confused. The man turned to walk slowly away, but you stood up, despite all your senses telling you not to be stupid.
"Wait!" you shouted in return.
Once you got his attention you continued, "Are you saying if I buy you a drink... You'd give me your horse?"
"Yes! Ye," he answered among his hiccups, stumbling back towards the door.
"Well, I wasn't planning on it," you said quietly, reaching into your pocket. "But here!" you flung the silver coin from earlier into the air. It made a couple of spins before landing by the man's feet. He gladly picked it up, even when he almost toppled over.
Hurriedly, he darted back inside as you shouted back at him. "Wait! Which horse is yours?"
"Eughh," he stopped, deep in thought and placed his hand on the forehead. "The yellow one."
Indeed. A light brown horse was tied by the side of the tavern, alongside two other darker ones. It wasn't yellow, much to your dissapointement, but you were sure this was the one the man meant. They each had a bucket of water. Simple as that, you thought to yourself, your plan in full motion now. But the difficult part was what was awaiting you.
You grunted as you dragged Daeron's limp body through the mud and towards the horses. Holding onto one of his boots, you pulled him a good few feet, before stopping to catch your breath.
When finally by the horse, you took all the remaind of your strenght to somehow get the man on the horse. You flopped one side of his body (the side with his head and his arms) on the far side of the saddle, circled the horse and pulled on the arms to slide him fully on. Sure, he was left sticking out awkwardly but at least he was on. The mare nickered, it's ears flicking towards you. You patted it on the neck with a tired exhale as you undid the knot on it's reins.
This night was surely turning out way more strange than you anticipated.
You climbed into the saddle and made sure the man's body was stable enough for the ride. It quite looked like a corpse from the way it dangled, you began hoping you won't pass by too many people.
From now on the journey should be smooth, and rather safe too. The horse's hoofs clacked on the pavement, it's body swaing and making you too sleepy to even think.
The minutes passed, the Red Keep wasn't that far afterall. Soon you both will be home, the feeling of a good deed of saving your betrothed would keep you warmed up, just like the heavy covers of your bed.
The horse picked up the steepness of the road. You yourself leaned slightly forward in the saddle, keeping the balance.
You registered the sound but payed it no mind, continued your way in what felt like a trance. Your eyelids too heavy and yours body too comfortable to turn around.
"Ough," a quiet grunt suddenly captured your attention.
You snapped back, gasping immediately and pulling the reins to stop.
There, on the road, just few feet behind you laid Daeron. His hand was on his forehead, his other arm propped on his elbow. The fall from the horse's back was what finally managed to wake him up.
"Good gods, are you alright?" you called out, worry seeping into your voice.
Confused, he looked around before his eyes caught on your frame and the horse, "... who are you?"
You knew he had no idea who you are, that he never saw you just like you never saw him, but it still send a small sting of melancholy into your heart. You took a second to reply with your name. Nothing more, just your name. No titles, no surnames.
He immediately averted his gaze, his brows furrowed. Was he... disappointed?
Both of you stayed silent, not really knowing what to do next. You could hear Daeron whisper-curse under his breath.
"I'm... sorry." he finally managed to say aloud. He spoke softly and quietly, you never expected a person of his position to speak like that. "Shouldn't have troubled yourself. Just leave me here, I won't be a bother."
"What?" you protested, turning the horse to fully face him, but he wasn't looking at you. "No, I already came here, I looked for you and got you as far!"
He let your words linger, your voice echoing from the empty dirty streets of King's Landing. No one was around, and it felt like nothing at all could even make a sound at this moment. Not even him.
He looked at you, his lilac gaze finding yours under the cover of the night. His eyes were ethereal, glossy with weld up tears. He himself was ethereal.
You didn't answer. It wasn't that you didn't want; you didn't know yourself. Why? Because you wanted to. Beacuse you wanted to see him truly as he is, without the veils of royal protocols. Your heart ached for something so much more than just an arranged marriage. And maybe you hoped he knew that.
The horse took a few steps forward before stopping again under your cue. It stood right besides Daeron, with you waiting atop for him to join you. You won't leave unless he does so.
The man was still looking at you. With a sigh he slowly stood up, still clearly in a state of intoxication. With hesitancy and uncertainty he placed his boot into one of the stirrups and sat behind you. At last.
You offered a tiny smile over your shoulder and got the mare to move forward.
Daeron's hands found your waist, holding onto you firmly to not lose balance. His hips relaxed against yours and the horse's movements.
You didn't feel tired anymore, you physically couldn't.
"I'm sorry," he murmured. "Sorry you had to see your promised this way." he whispered, his voice trembling ever so slightly. You could feel his breath against your ear, his strands of hair against your neck. The sweet smell of wine permeated the air.
"That's alright, I've seen worse." you lied gently and with everpresent patience, hoping it'll make him feel at least a little less miserable.
He shut his eyes closed together and tilted his head back, seemingly just as ready to go home as you were. An unexpected shade of crimson began pooling on your cheeks, making you feel quite warmer as the man slowly pushed his head back forward, onto your shoulder and the crook of your neck. His body was already close, but he leaned in with even more weight than he intended.
You were uncertain. Mother never told you what to do in a situation like this. She taught you manners, history and compassion but never how to reply to a touch full of affection.
You blushed and didn't pull away. Maybe even let him fall asleep again.
Reaching the main gates of the castle, you two made quite a couple of guarding knights turn their heads. Once again, you payed them no mind, you couldn't as you daydreamed of the thrilling future you had amongst the dragons. The nearing wedding at Summerhall. The unusual family you'll gain. It was all so exciting. Maybe you didn't know that much about your future husband but you didn't mind. Atleast yet you didn't. You were more than ready and eagar to learn and to live.
