I absolutely loved reading the Daeron fic Night Path! It was lovely and a bit funny but so endearing!! If you have the time I would absolutely devour a part 2! No pressure though, I'll read anything you write <3
Daeron ‘The Drunken’ Targaryen (A Knight Of the Seven Kingdoms) x F!reader
Summary: Once you came back from your midnight journey, you found yourself thrown into another unexpected adventure. This time, a more cohesive celebration of your engagement.
Author note: Aaa thank u all so so much for the love you've shown part one!! I can't even express how glad I am you liked the drabble, much so requested part two. Again, just like with the first part, sorry for any typos or mistakes, I tried to really lock in and proofread this one but oh well
(if anyone'd like to be tagged in the future be sure to lmk!)
When you were little your mother would let you sleep in her bed, didn't matter if you were frightened, lonely or just curious - a habit you've outgrown long since then. You've always found it a bit strange, not sharing bed chambers that is. Wouldn't it be more comfortable for everyone involved? The nightly chatter, the familiairity of another person near.
Maybe that was another reason why you were so grateful for your midnight venture of last night. The fatigue worn on your eyelids finally came to rest alongside with you, not giving your mind a chance to wander into these silly daydreams.
You didn't even remember how your maids found you, quickly taking you away, stumbling back into your room. Not bothering with changing into any nightgown, your body fell heavy on the soft mattress, like a cut down tree. Unfortunately for you, it didn't take long for the sun's morning rays to caress your face, enveloping your chamber in a warm golden embrace.
A voice tore away the last bits of comfortable slumber you tried to linger in, "Good morrow, my Lady," your maid spoke when she heard your sleepy dissatisfied grunts. "The prince expects your presence at breakfast."
"Hnghh. Which one?" a yawn escaped the back of your throat as you tried to sit up.
"Excuse me?" your maid replied, a bit unsure of your question.
"Well, which prince?" you clarified, rubbing your eyes. No one could judge you for asking. The Targayen court was practically swarmed with princes.
"Ah, my apologies. Prince Maekar, my Lady." she explained.
Prince Maekar? You thought to yourself. Out of all the people, what could prince Maekar possibly want to discuss?
A few ideas flashed through your mind, each accompanied by a different emotion. You decided not to dwell on them for too long though; you had some work to do and you'd hate to keep anyone waiting.
"Could you prepare a bath for me, please? I feel like it's well needed." you smiled at the maid, leaving her unsure once again at your clear poke at yourself.
The water was a bit too scourging for your liking. You were sure a dragon would enjoy a bath like that, but alas, you weren't one. While you waited for it to cool down, at least slightly, you tried untangling your hair, picking out your dress and necklace yourself, hoping for a good second impression. That's the one which always leaves the proper mark.
Once done with your tending to, you stepped into the hallway with a calm but confident expectations, long forgetting your lack of rest.
You marched through the stone walls, making a map in your head for future, to not get lost on your way back. Full exploration of the castle, gardens and stables was still on your list, just not for today.
The door to the dining hall unveiled, with you waltzing towards your seat, greeting Maekar and plucking a grape out of the various foods laying in front of you in the process. Your chair screeched on the floor as you scooched closer. The prince stood by the table, leaned on his knuckes against the hard wood. You hoped the man wasn't angry with you in some way, so expectedly, you raised your eyes to meet his, much more frowned and unfriendly ones. He slowly inhaled to speak, but before any of you could say a word, the main doors flew open once more. This time, your body froze in a surprising thrill.
Daeron walked down the hall with quiet steps, avoiding his father's dissaproving gaze. He caught a glimpse of you before he retreated his attention back to the cold stone floor.
His eyes still held the unspoken sorrow. A part of you hoped he was alright after everything that happened yesterday, but the other part knew he was used to it. The hangovers, the dissapointement, the gossip.
"My eldest's senses finally seem to find him." Maekar spoke through gritted teeth.
Daeron sat next to you without a word, blinking slowly, as if it hurt. But if blinking hurt, then looking at you must have been like dying out of mercy.
Unlike him, your eyeballs were glued to your betrothed. Watching how his jaw tensed under his father's remark, how his eyebrows itched closer or how his shoulders slouched in mysery. Now that you had a clear view of him, not restrained by the cover of night, you tried to take it all in. His hair, way less messier than the last time you saw it, cascading down in golden waves, framing his handsome features. His eyelashes were long and gentle against those enchantingly striking purple irises. You noticed a ring on his left hand. On his little finger. Carved into silver was the three headed dragon - Targaryen sigil, symbol of fire and blood. But this one was quite different than those on the flags, this one was mirrored, facing backwards. Did he lost his way, in the eyes of both his family and his people? For what reason? The dragon dreamer - was he really the black sheep? You supposed everyone in this family was a black sheep in some way or the other. Finally, your eyes dropped to his clothing, elegant, fully red and black; striking contrast to his dark, simple, mud-covered cloak you found him in. You'd quite liked him like this, for his own good. Not drowning down his sorrows in wine.
You were so focused on what you saw, the stern words of your father-in-law completely escaped your ears. It wasn't until later you've caught his sentences, climbing down from the heights of your deep thoughts.
"...now." the older man pierced you and his son with a glare. "There's a tournament to be held in the name of your engagement. Don't think you'll slither out of this one as easily... "
Tourney? You knew well how dangerous those could be, and while grave fun, you'd be terribly sorry if something happened to anyone, especially on a day devoted to you and your future husband. But his words were intimidating so you didn't dare to protest.
Daeron expression has meanwhile shifted from somewhat guilty to an almost bored one, with lidded eyes and lips tightly pursed together.
It seemed your second day in King's Landing was turning out just as strange as your first one.
"Is this a jape?!" you whisper-yelled once the main door closed, leaving you and Daeron alone. Maekar finished his speech and let the two of you depart from the breakfast table in quick strides, almost scurrying away.
"Good morrow to you too, my Lady." he spoke, an amused irony dripping from his words as if nothing had just happened. His face dangerously close to yours.
"I do not wish for any tournaments!" still wide-eyed, you expressed your worry.
"I'm afraid it does not matter whether you wish for it or not. Any celebration just gives a reason for men to show off. To fight. Maybe to drink." a little smile tugged at one corner of his lips as he quietly said the last part. "But if it makes you feel any better, I do not wish for it any more than you do."
Defeated, you softly exhaled. He was right. Didn't matter if it was a wedding, nameday celebration or a birth of a babe - a joust, tourney or a melee should always be a part of it. Not only did it bring the common people closer to the Houses, it also gave the rich Lords and Knights opportunity to fight for honor, coin or a hand of maiden fair. You just hoped any injuries, which are guaranteed, wouldn't be fatal.
"Gods, can't say I'm not surprised." you held your head in one of your palms. A part of you hated how stiff and awkward your conversation was, especially now when he wasn't drunk, when you were alone and when you discussed your engagement. Still whispering you asked. "Will you joust?"
"Likely." he replied, his face blank, slowly beggining to walk you to your room, "It is our celebration afterall. Many Lords may try to unhorse me." Your shoulders brushed as you entered the stairway, Daeron leaning closer with a dry sudden smile, "Luckily for them, it won't be difficult."
You chuckled at his joke, covering your mouth as to not seem rude by laughing at him. But you didn't suppose you were really laughing at him as much as you were laughing with him.
"Is that so?" you turned at him, "You should blame it on your horse then."
He chuckled too, "Might as well. I hate horses. Horses and swords alike."
"What??" you folded your arms behind your back as the two of you reached the top of the staircase, turning into another hallway. "I find them quite delightful."
"Once you've been thrown off your horse more times than you can count, you begin to see them differently. But maybe it's my fault, really," his voice gained the softness and gentlness it held yesterday, soft smile pursed on his lips, "I'd rather lay in the mud as a loser than stand with broken bones as a winner. So I suppose I don't mind such things anymore."
"I do mind. I do mind quite a lot, actually. I don't want you breaking anything, with the mud or without." you replied, mirroring his own tone. Still trying to keep your talk rather unserious with the jokes, but your concern was still present nontheless.
He smiled again, a bit more solemnly, while looking at the floor, "Don't worry, I won't embarrass you."
You stopped, gazing deep into his eyes giving him a genuine smile, one sewed with unspoken words. I know you won't. But even if you did, it does not matter. What does is that you'd be alright and forgiven.
Daeron looked over your shoulder and behind you, "Well then." he whispered softly.
You turned to see what caught his attention just to realize you two were standing right in front of your bed chamber. As much as you'd love to walk with him more, you didn't want to bother. Especially since you two didn't even really know eachother that well. Maybe he had his own quests to tend to. Either way, you looked forward to another talk like this; a genuine one.
He hesitated, inhaling as to say something but changing his mind. Instead he gave you a small bow of his head and turned on his heel.
You watched as he made a few steps forward, turning away as well. All that talking about horses made you wonder about your own yellow mare, which wasn't even really yellow. As a new and unplanned responsibility, you took her well-being very seriously. You should check on her. Bring her an apple or two. Then you'd crash back into bed and chase the sleep you've lost.
Daeron suddently stopped. Turning back around he rushed over closer, almost too close.
Your hand stopped on the doorhandle, your eyes facing him fully, wondering what could prompt him to ask whatever question he was about to request, "Of course. Ask away."
"During the tournament... Could you wear a green dress?" his gaze met yours.
After a few seconds, confused, you reluctantly nodded. He mirrored your gesture. Green? Why green? Why not red and black? You wondered but decided to keep the questions to yourself just as he keeps his answers. You liked surprises and you trusted him so far - you'd just have to see for yourself.
To your dissapointement you've come to notice the serious lack of women in this court. The young Targaryen princesses were too small and always surrounded by nannies, and the wives or mothers of the princes, married to the family, were mostly dead. No companions, ladies-in-waiting or even concubines.
Luckily you found Kiera, wife of prince Valarr. And after a few small talks you decided the best thing would be to stick alongside her.
Getting ready in her chambers, you helped to put the upper half of her beautiful pink hair into a dainty braid, adorning it with a dragon accesory. The bottom half of her blushy curls stayed dancing freely in the morning air. She explained the Tyroshi dye traditions as you asked about the unusual color, and offered to do yours in return. She reminded you of your home a bit. How you'd spent nights talking to your friends and siblings, giggling and messing around. Of course, you didn't mess around now. You were a serious lady of the court, no child full of silly nonsense anymore. Even though you missed it, you had to remind yourself the weight of your role.
"I was wondering about a hennin. Is it too late to mention that now?" you started.
"Oh, don't even jest!" Kiera protested as she just finished weaving a couple of green ribbons into your hairstyle.
Both of your dresses laid next to you on her bed, yours in that rich tone of ferns and meadows, and her in a dark wine red, black embroidery alongside the hems.
"Not to mention," she continued, adding some finally touches, "hennins are... horrendous."
"What??? They are so lovely!" you protested, laughing.
She stood up, giving you a dissapointed look as to not hurt your feelings, but both of you knew you were just joking around with eachother. Calling for the maids to get you into the pieces of clothing.
"How many tourneys have you seen?" you qondered aloud and complimented, "I bet yours and his Lord Valarr's engagement celebrations must have been just as grand if not more. And he must have won all the jousts too!"
"Indeed," Kiera chuckled as one maid tied her final layer. "But I do not doubt prince Daeron's abilities. Both of them shall be noble today." she turned towards you as you finished dressing up aswell.
"Are they jousting against each other?" a question escaped your lungs in a curious hurry.
"I do not think so. But, I suppose anything can happen." the woman quirked her brow. "No matter. Let's not waste any more time."
You answered with a polite smile, biting into your tongue to not ask any more questions.
The tiltyard was huge and quite near, just outside the outskirts of the town, surrounded by wide fields and lines of growing wine. The air smelled sweet and warm despite the early hour. You foolishly wished you could ride your new horse, properly, during daytime, but once you saw the prepared carriages you gave up on even suggesting it. The tents and seats were already set when you arrived, with great Houses already claiming their adequate corners of the tournament. Sigils of those Houses varied, with some you recognized instantly, such as House Tyrell or House Stokeworth, and some you've never even heard of. Among them, common folk wandered the area, filling the seats and setting bets. Since there was still some time to spare, you decided to pick out some nearby wildflowers for your and Kiera's flowercrowns, the ones you'll give out to knights as your favours. You found quite the selection too, making sure you picked out the colorful ones just like the plain green herbs alike, complimenting your attire. For the time being, your hennin served well as a basket.
You wandered a bit amongst the high grass, holding the fabrics of your dress in one hand to not stain it with occasional dirt. This time of spring when everything started to wake, grow and couple up was magical, and you basked in it's sunlight as if you've yourself been the one hibernating all winter. You picked out some stems of yarrow, straightening your posture. The distance between you and the tiltyard was already quite far, you couldn't tell apart the silhouettes of the people in the distance. The only thing you saw clearly was someone watching you from afar. How long have they been watching?
A majority of your mind wandered back to Daeron.
You picked up your pace, carefully watching the grassy carpet underneath your soles.
"These are nice flowers you got there." a voice yelled out. A voice you did not recognize.
Slowing down, you began making shape out of the person in front of you. It was not your promised; it was an older knight who's sigil you did not recognize. You frowned a bit, murmuring a simple 'thank you'. Once you reached the borders of the yard, dissapointement spread throughout your entire body.
"Might as well ask for your favour once those crown are done." he joked, leaning close.
You blinked at him a few times, turned on your heel and darted towards the sitting area reserved for the royal family.
You reached Kiera with wide strides, sitting so close your knees practically touched. Looking around, the hat full of flowers in your lap as you blurted out, "Have you seen Daeron?"
"Hmm, not really, no." she shook her head, taking some of the plants to her side, already getting to work.
Looking around, you tried to find the Taragryen tent. But unsuccessfully. Exhaling deeply, you slowly decided to start with the base of your crown aswell.
Or was he somewhere, in some pub, downing drink one after the other?
"The tournament should start any minute now," Kiera spoke after a long while. Maybe she noticed your sudden wave of quietness.
"I hope," you gave her a polite but forced smile. The quicker it is over, the better. Both of your flowercrown were in your laps, waiting for their rightful owners, but will yours be even really worn today?
Your friend suddenly called out your name. "Look! There's Prince Aegon!" she reached for your shoulder to catch your attention. "He squires for Prince Daeron!"
Both of your pairs of eyes met. "You should ask him.”
"Really?" you asked, "But is there enough time?"
"Well, surely! It's just over there," her slender finger pointed towards one of the tents, "You'd be quick as a mouse!"
"Alright," you exclaimed, a mixture of confusion and uncertainty, "Alright!" you repeated and stood up.
Hurriedly, you squeezed through all the people on the sitting area, made your way down and across the yard. The tent where you saw Egg was massive and beige, almost empty due to all folks being at the centre.
"Aegon!" you called out, entering the tent, "Prince Aegon!"
The light inside was dimmed, air thick with the smell of wool and steel. Dirt squelched under your embroided royal shoes, reminding you of the mud you sat in when you saw your betrothed for the first time.
Instead of the boy, your sight felt on a man sitting on a simple wooden stool, putting on final pieces of his armour.
Both of you didn't utter a word, looking at eachother as if you saw a ghost. That was until Daeron finally spoke aloud your name.
"I couldn't find you." you explained, a bit stiff and awkward.
"Apologies. I've just arrived." the young prince slowly stood up and walked towards you and the tent's entrance.
"Right, of course" you replied sincerely but quietly, still looking at him. Just now you've realized how tall his frame was.
"Well then," you were still a bit unsure in what to do now that you've found him. "I am glad you're well. I shall return now."
You turned around to leave the tent, already reaching for the opening side. "My Lady," Daeron's voice halted you in the middle of your step. "I've forgotten to give you something." his gaze was burning holes through you, but his tone was soft and sad.
"Oh? What is it?" you raised one brow.
"It is my fault, I know, and... I'm sorry." he talked slowly, giving you a small apologetic bow of his head. "But... " his hands were already in the leathery underlining of his armour when he reached for your own ones. Your faces were close as he focusedly bestowed his token upon your ring finger. An engagemnt ring. The symbol of commitement, love and direct connection to one's heart.
As a child you expected your engagement to be grand, dramatic and emotional. Not an exchange of few words between two houses. And while you knew your real engagement was the latter, this still left you a bit unsure. It was simple, yes, but maybe it felt more genuine this way.
"Daeron... " the words fell out of your mouth quietly, unvoluntarily but compassionetly, still a bit taken aback.
"My Lord," you shook your head and regained your previous and expected composure. "Thank you." you finally spoke, gazing down at the mirrored Targaryen sigil. "May the gods be in your favour today." you smiled and gave a small curtsy as you were about to retreat to your seat.
"They can keep their favour. Never really helped me much." Daeron said quietly. He waited a few moments, waiting fod you to turn back towards him, "May I request yours instead?"
You stared at him dumbfoundedly. It gave sense for him to ask your favour, but this felt somehow so intimate and so much more personal. Normally, knights would ask in front of the entirety of the crowd, often making a political statement or public request, deeply intertwined with their honor, chivalry and dedication to a certain maiden. Sometimes they'd do it to gain a favour from certain Houses, even being as successful as marrying the lady who bestowed her token of luck upon him. But this moment... While the crowd could piece the clues together, it wasn't for their eyes. This moment was for yours and his only.
"I don't... have it with me." you confessed but a different idea sprung in your head.
You stepped closer. Quickly, you untangled a ribbon from your hair, unravelling it fully in front of him. He gave you his hand, while heavy with leather, chainmail and armour, you held it to tie a neat knot around his wrist, its ends long and flowing in the breeze. His gaze not daring to leave you for one second, as if you were one of his dreams that could dissapear with the wind at any moment, and him, too cowardly to say anything or to even hold you. You'd be his only good dream.
But maybe just this time, maybe he could try.
He took your hand into his, while a bit clumsily, he let them descent to your sides.
Not really knowing what to do next, he just stood there, blank expression scanning your face. He wasn't used to this. To courting. All he ever really knew were nightmares and wine. Couldn't even expect nothing else from this life, until now at least.
You stared at him as well, expectantly. But once you saw how horribly lost he was, you let out an accidental giggle.
He smiled as well, exhaling deeply, bowing his head to look at your intertwined hands. Brushing your knuckles with his thumb, the ribbon and the ring so closely together, he prepared himself for what could come next.
You stepped even closer, placing your other hand at his shoulder, feeling the silver metal cold underneath your touch. His armour might have been cold but you remembered the warmth of his body way too well to forget the night you met him.
The man's adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed dryly. You could feel his impatience on his shaky breath. But didn't matter how close your face got to his neck, to his stubble, to his mouth - you could smell no wine.
Despite the leathery gloves, his fingers flexed nervously and involuntarily before gently finding your waist. Slithering up towards your back, he slightly pressed, holding you firmly, closing the distance between your bodies. He couldn't wait any longer, he couldn't bare it. Your noses were practically touching, your foreheads almost pressed together, sounds of quiet tense breathing filling the air. The hand which held yours unveiled to cup your cheek, caressing its side, his fingertips sliding towards your hair and behind your ear. Ever so slowly he began inching towards your mouth. You have already closed your eyes, letting yourself lost in his warmth and the smell of his clothing. Pools of crimson colored his otherwise pale cheeks, the same pools that were only present when he was drunk. You were sure yours weren't any different.
You felt the slightest of touches of his lips brush against yours. Both of your hands found to back of his neck; you hoped to pull him closer, to somehow show him that you did like him, that you were actually happy about your engagement. But before the two of you could actually kiss, the sound of the starting horn cut through the air loud enough to make Daeron flinch away fully. He retreated, his back facing you embrrassed. The moment was ruined and he felt so pathetic.
"Prince Daeron will now choose his opponent!" the heralding official spoke loudly outside, letting the crowd quiet down and the tournament begin.
"Go," you said whispering, walking over to him once more, "don't keep your people waiting."
Seeing the defeat on his solemn face, you placed a quick peck on his cheek. A rather cheap compensation for a real first kiss but you didn't mind. You two will spend the rest of your lives together - there will be enough time for romance.
"I'll be gallant," he smiled truly, reminding you of his promise to not embarass you.
In a few moments Daeron arrived on the jousting sand. You already sat back with Kiera, and if it wasn't for her telling you, you wouldn't even recognize him. His armour was simple, silver and chestnut brown. So was his horse, dark, with basic plates and black underlining. The only nod to his house was his silver shield with Targaryen sigil and two dragon-like wings above his eyes. Higher overhead was his feathery plume, green, the same color as the ribbon tied around the wrist of his sword-wielding hand. But he wasn't wielding any swords now, rather a long wooden lance.
He did look like a knight, just not the one of fire and blood. Why was he so reluctant to wear his House's colors? Plagued by dragon dreams - he couldn't seet see his heritage as a source of pride and intimidation like others, for him it was to be avoided at all costs.
All the knights of higher ranks were lined at one side of the yard, waiting for Daeron to pick his rival. He approaches them, taking his time to really scale them up. If it was up to him, he wouldn't choose at all.
After a good minute, he reluctantly chose Gerold Lannister, the young son of Damon the Gray Lion, Lord of Casterly Rock.
"Ser Gerold is a mighty opponent." Kiera spoke.
"I see," you agreed, watching the event with a careful eye.
The two knights stepped to their respective spots, preparing for their brawl. Meanwhile, you stacked your flowercrown over your hennin - you already gave away your token of favour, there was no reason to hold onto another one.
Gerold's horse dug its hooves into the sand, huffing and inching closer. The man had to hold his reins close and tight to not let his stallion run before it was time.
The horn blew, the horses bolted, the knight's lances directes towards each other, closing the distance in a few seconds. The long wooden weapons broke with a chilling crack, raining the nearby area with splinters. It all happened so fast. A body landed to fhe ground in a cloud of dust. Prince Daeron has been unseated.
The entire crowd cheered for the winner. You did as well, clapping slowly with your eyes set on your future husband. Was he alright? You hoped he didn't break any bones, just like you once expressed. But when he clumisly sat up, you let out a relieved breath.
The rest of the tourney was held in a good mood, with a few broken limbs but many great matches and even greater victores.
You saw great Lords and brave Knights battle among themselves for the true victory. But it wasn't definitive, as the tournament was to be held for a few days.
Once the last battle took place, the night started to replace evening, the setting sun painting the sky in gorgeous mosiac of gold and red. The air became chiller and full of sounds of the bustle of smallfolk.
You wandered the tents alone, taking in the sights and smells, partially hoping you'd find Daeron. It was no surprise you found his younger brother Aerion instead. You didn't stop to say hello, not wanting to accidentally get into some quarell. The young prince could be too unsettling and quite frightening for your liking.
"Good day, My Lady. Are you searching for anyone?" Daeron's voice called out to you with a grin. You turned your head to see him sitting on a small wine barrel next to one of the tents. It kind of reminded you of his armour.
"Good day to you too," you replied bashfully with a smile of your own.
He was changed to normal clothing, nothing too celebrational, just plain black tunic with a claok trousers and boots, rich enough for everyone to know he's of higher status. His leathery wine canteen was held in his lap, with his hand your green ribbon stayed wrapped around.
"May I know what brings one here?" you asked.
Daeron thought for a second before giving you his most honest answer, "The quiet."
He stood up slowly and you watched as he carefully approached you. Seeming much more relaxed than before made you ease up as well. A light flush danced on his cheeks, now adorned with that smile you began to like so much. "Walk with me?"
You replied with a nod. The man didn't seem drunk which pleased you a bit. You yourself wanted to remember moments spend with your beloved, so you hoped he'd want the same, without the taste of alcohol fogging up his mind.
Both of you passed by a stall selling sausages, pig legs and other pieces of meat. The smell was wonderful but you weren't really hungry. Other stalls lined your path, illuminated by torches and campfire. Now that the sun has set, a fewer people roamed around. Much less than during the peak of the joust or in the streets of King's Landing. Yet you wouldn't mind even if the entirety of the seven kingdoms saw you at the moment.
The quiet was nice, even if you fought the urge to speak or comment every three seconds. But sometimes it was better to let the moment linger.
Feeling rather brave, you held your breath as you glanced at Daeron's hand dangling besides you, the one with the ribbon. In a moment you took it into yours. He glanced down surprised, but a small satisfied smile painted his expression. You found it a bit funny, how both of you somehow felt like teens, tip toeing and dancing around eachother, too scared the other one would flinch away, despite being well educated, grown, reasonable adults. The two of your continued walking in silence, familair comfortability having its own conversations. You passed ths stalls, tents and boots, nearing the end of the tiltyard overgrown with more vegetation. The fields still smelled strong during the night, just like the rustling trees around and the now withered flowers you picked just hours ago.
"I'm sorry," the prince suddenly started. You quirked your head towards his direction. "My duel hasn't been quite... spectacular.”
A kind smile painted your face, "I don't mind. What matters is that you faced your opponent bravely," you told the truth. It really didn't matter if he embarassed himself, you, or his entire bloodline. What is honor next to safety?
Daeron chuckled. He left the moment linger before continuing softly.
"You are too kind, my wife."
Whether it was the wine on his tongue or not, it was your turn to chuckle, looking down at your ring. "I am no wife yet,"
"But soon." His thumb brushed your hand once again, feeling his warmth seep into your skin, like the summer rain seeped deep into the cracked soil after a period of harsh drought. The man spoke of a promise. The same promise you found so thrilling once you found out. The promise that made you daydream about the life of a princess. And while you were sure that life had loads of shortcuts and good opportunities you didn't doubt its weight. The thought of having children made you nervous, the constant presence of maids, maesters or kingsguards was overbearing. You hoped you'll somehow make an impact, a good one, both in the eyes of your family and the people.
You stopped. Daeron's lilac eyes captured yours, pulling you just the tiniest bit closer. Not looking away, he brought your hand higher and closer to his mouth. His lips were a bit chapped as they brushed and pressed gently above your knuckles. His stubble tickled as you fought the urge to giggle. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach, blush spread across your cheeks and you cursed yourself for having this much of a reaction to such a small thing. It was just a moment but it felt like an eternity. Once he let your hands descend back down he spoke.
"Apologies. I'm not sure if these gestures usually work but... I've grown rather fond of you." He dreamily turned his head to look into the distance.
You'd be lying if you said you weren't growing fond of him as well, even going as far as to say you had a silly little crush on him. The way he spoke, the way he held himself. Everything about him was so mysthical, like a lighthouse pulling you closer ashore, leaving you charmed but curious at the same time, completely captivating you.
"You apologize a lot, you know."
"I suppose." He smiled again. The dragon dreamer might as well have been one of your own dreams. Maybe yours came true as well.
You two let the moment pass, enjoying the silence once again, the sounds of nature and faraway crackling fire. You'd get used to this. Maybe even a much simpler life than the one in the court. But alas.
Somehow you found yourself glad you two didn't kiss today. Maybe it would be too soon; everything still felt too soon, too rushed. Everything had its time, and before it comes, moment like this could satistied your homely, aching, dreaming heart quite well enough.