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Hiiiii, I'm Apple, welcome to my blog!! About time I did a somewhat of an intro post lol

Commisions are currently closed, however any fic requests, asks, art trades and collabs or any other interactions are very much welcomed!!

Interests: visual novels, games, dating sims, creepypastas, TV shows and movies, history, alt music, fashion, original characters, projects, art and stories

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Writing list: multifandom, most of my fics are x reader and SFW

Chilling Devotion

• Corpse paint (Jim Walters x reader)

• Misery loves company (Jim Walters x reader)

• The biting cold (Jim Walters x reader)

• Hallway crush (Jim Walters x reader) IN PROGRESS

A Knight of The Seven Kingdoms

• Night path part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4 (Dearon Targaryen x reader)

My Lady Jane

• Cat got your tongue (Stan Dudley x Alice)

Creepypasta

• Before the crash (Ticci Toby x reader) IN PROGRESS

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That's all for now, guys

I'll probably do a better, more throughout version or at least update this one sometime in the future.

Cat got your tongue

Stan Dudley (My Lady Jane) x Alice (My Lady Jane)

Word count: 4,2k

Summary: Stan finds himself an unlikely companion while he serves his time in prison.

Author note: This fic has been sitting in my notes for quite some time so I'm sure it might be a bit wonky and silly at times, but after watching akotsk I immediatelly went to watch mlj and its geniuenly so peak I love it smm. I also saw some people saying that if we ever got season 2 Stan x Alice could have been cute and yk what i agree. But nontheless I'm still working on some x reader fics

Alice sat on the stone cold floor, turning a key carefully in her hands. No light reflected upon its metal surface; there was almost no light at all. The cell smelled of stagnant air and mold, sounds of animals could be heard across the entire dungeon, but despite the noise, no one on the surface even knew they were trapped down here.

She wondered about her ecsape ever since she met Guildford Dudley, ever since he gave her the spare key. From every angle, every possibility, every outcome. The girl made numerous plans, but alas, she wouldn't dare. Her fearfullness was the only thing holding her back. She's been here for so long, she saw what happened to those who tried to run, even those who tried to slightly oppose. There was no way out. Only if Seymour wanted them to do his dirty jobs, experiments or games. So all in all, she actually did have a choice - stay here in the Zoo, hoping to never be seen or bothered by anyone, not sticking out and definitely not trying to escape or die. And one of those options seemed a tiny bit more reasonable than the other.

Her ears suddenly picked up a distant noise; being a cat ethian definitely had its positives. She froze, leaning her head against the dungeon door. Steps of multiple guards neared the corner.

In a flash of golden light, the girl turned. Almost instinctivelly, everytime she felt in danger. Short brown and white fur covered her body, long whiskers twitched at the tip of her nose, pupils dialeted in the dark. When the group of people stopped in front of her cell, she picked up the too-familiar scent, her heart pounding as she supressed a frightened hiss.

She could hear the voice of Lord Seymour more than clearly.

"...since your brother was so generous to leave you some room."

His words were followed by a thud and the sounds of door closing shut. The ruckus stopped for a good few seconds until the man spoke again, quietly.

Seymour smacked his lips with a veil of irony. "Oh, don't take this so personally, Stanley. You see, I shouldn't explain myself. As the son of a Lord, you should know the basic biology."

"...what??" the unknown person asked.

Alice could hear the dramatically drawn sigh slowly escaping the older man's lungs.

"Ethianism works through genes. If one member of the family is plagued by this curse, the entire bloodline is already rotten to the core." He came closer, watching the new prisoner's face through the metal bar window. "Your brother was a horse and a beast. If your father managed to hide it for so long, in such a plain sight too, I wouldn't be surprised if you had a few secrets of your own."

"What are you saying?! I am not a horse!" the new prisoner's desperation could be heard across the entire Zoo.

"Oh, sure you aren't." Seymour sushed him with the same indiferent arrogance as always. "But it doesn't matter." he added in whispers, "See, you've wronged the crown. You've rebelled. There is no difference between you and those... things. And because of that, you will be tested in the royal well. Until then, you have time to reaveal yourself. I've always wanted a stallion in my collection..." a cruel smile painted his lips.

"I am not a horse- I am not an Ethian! I swear!! Please, you have to believe me!" the young Lord pleaded.

But Seymour didn't listen. He turned on his heel without another word, leaving Stan to his own questions.

"Wait. Wait! Where is my father?! I wish to speak to him!! I-I demand a trial!!! I... I... " his yells quieted down as he saw there was no use.

The prison fell silent once more.

The nosy bystanders returned to mind their own bussiness when they understood there was no more drama to be observed. The only one who couldn't understand a single thing was Stan. He murmured some curses under his breath when he realize the severity of his situation. Alone, cold and hungry. The weight of his actions coming to squash him like a bug under a shoe sole.

Especially when the only crime he did was standing up for his older brother and the love of his life.

Alice felt bad. It was always heartwrenching to listen to the sounds of a new prisoner. The worst thing was, everyone knew how he felt because everyone went through the same thing.

She slowly turned back to her human form. Watching the key closely and sitting mindlessly on the floor was one of the only ways she could really entertain herself. It won't be long until nighttime. Atleast then she could escape this place by dreaming something better. Maybe a world where she and her brother would reunite after so many years...

Quiet sobs brought her attention back, snapping her out of her daydreams.

Carefully standing up, she looked through the metal grid on her door and through the corridor. Her new neighbor was nowhere in sight, but it was clear the muffled sounds where coming from his enclosure.

"Psst." she whispered, "Are you alright in there?"

"...No." a quivering voice replied. Right. That was a stupid question.

"Aright then. Just... " she tried to sound emphathetic, but the nervousness still slipped around the corners. "Just be careful. The guards tend to give a horrid beating to anyone crying."

"Really? That sounds awfull." Stan replied. The statement captured his attention well enough to at least get him to try to stop crying.

"Yes, it is. Everything here is quite awful, but I suppose that's just Lord Seymour's command." Alice whispered back.

"Right." he sniffled, wiping his nose into his sleeve. "Don't even montion that- that cretin! Oh, pardon my language. I'm not usually so... hot-headed."

Alice stayed silent, turning away from the small window to give him the space needed. But still. She wondered about what the Lord had said. Your brother was a horse and a beast. She knew only one horse ethian. It wouldn't be too far fetched to connect the dots; Guilford was freed by his family when he gave her the key. Did the guards capture them once more? But why wasn't he in the same cell as before?

"Hey," her whispers echoed again, "Don't I know you?"

Stanley didn't reply. The only thing which could be heard was the shuffling of his clothing as he slowly stood up. His face appeared behind the small bars in a few seconds.

The girl couldn't see much, but she still caught a glimpse of his golden hair, usually styled to perfection, now falling in messy waves, framing his handsome features. His eyes were the color of sky, now glossy and underlined with a shade of red as he's been crying. His nose and cheeks carrying the same shade of maroon.

"I do know you! You're Guilford's brother!" she whispered, a slight worry tugging at her thoughts. She didn't know the former prisoner that long, but she'd still consider them acquaintances, if not friends. "Is he alright?"

"Yes... I think. The last time I saw him, he was galloping away from the Tower of London." Stan spoke softly.

Alice exhaled. That was good. She was glad the man was able to escape and hopefully survive.

But another question entered her mind. One if true, it could possibly save the man's life. "Are you really not an Ethian?"

"No!" Stan almost shouted before returning back to the whispering, "I'm verity! My brother is the only one in our family. You have to believe me!"

"SHH," Alice shushed. "Okay, okay, I think I can believe you. But you know what that means?" If he wouldn't turn into an animal while being doused in the royal well, he'd be drowned. There was no way out.

"Yes... " his shoulders sulked and his head dropped lower.

"But not everything is lost yet!" she could see the light return into his eyes in real time, as he spoke, "We still have time. Maybe Guildford returns for me, or father finds some how way to... Or maybe Jane comes up with some crazy plan! You know she's awfully smart, that girl. Perhaps even Frances... " he stopped for a moment, his brows knitting together in a bitter frown. "No, she wouldn't. She'd rather request the front row seats to my execution."

"Who's Frances?" Alice asked, not understanding his sudden shift of tone.

Before Stan could reply, one of the guards stopped at the entrance of the stone halls, loudly banging his armoured hands against the metal bars. "Nighttime, beasts! Nighttime!"

The blonde man gave her one last symphatetic look before quietly saying. "No one. Good night, if that's even possible here."

"Good night, Stan. Take care." With that, she shifted back into a cat, curling up into a small ball. Hopefully, the night won't be too cold.

The next few days and nights were very monotonne. The prison slop came once a day, and even then it wasn't a thing to look forward to. The walls were still cold, the guards were still loud, the corridors were still dark. But at least one good thing began taking its roots. As if a small flower, blooming and strengthening in the harshness of its surroundings, the friendship between the unlikely pair grew. And as the nobleman and the serf spent their long days talking, they shared secrets they wouldn't normally even think of. If they weren't locked up here, they would never even met. That made them have this silent understanding. They would probably never return to they former lives, nothing would be as it once was. In the eyes of the law, they were somehow equal; they were both criminals.

Stan once talked about his father. How he knew he was never the favourite son. And despite loving his brother deeply, he even confessed of their mother. Her passing was an accident and a tragedy, but he still missed her deeply.

Ever since then he felt somehow lonely. Guildford was always away, his dad always busy. Even his fiancée got the plague and died before he could even meet really meet her.

Alice found his way of speaking fascinating. He used those fancy words only the high Lords spoke of, he held himself with such pride despite staying in prison. And of course, she sympathized with him. She had a brother as well, a twin, but they got seperated a long time ago. Before that, they lived out in the forest with the rest of the ethians in exile. She wondered about them often. Were they alive? Were they safe? Were they even still there, or moved somewhere completely elsewhere?

When she still lived with them, she took care of the young ones. There were a few of them, but they were very smart. Alice would teach them of safe berries and ferns, mushrooms and trees, which were poisonous and which weren't. She'd talk about the history, and at night she would present grand fairytales or legends. They liked her - she was kind. And much more braver than she was now.

Other days they'd just joke as to balance the gloomy ambience. It was difficult to imagine anything funny in their situations, but Stan had such an easygoing, charming personality, he made it seem effortless.

For the first time in a few years, Alice felt as if she had a friend, a real friend. And maybe her companion didn't feel as alone as well.

They both finally understood the saying 'finding the good in the bad'.

Of course, Stan's trial neared by each minute, and with it, his eminent death. But he didn't give up. Each day, he'd come up with various plans, not very good ones, but plans nontheless. Alice felt horrible. Twirling the key in her hands, now suspiciously heavy. The same weight slumped down her stomach everytime she tried to tell him she had all the neccesary items needed for the escape. Her throat was dry and, her head was ringing, she felt sick with guilt. But her fear was still stronger. At midnights she'd wake up, too restless to really sleep, thinking about what to do, that maybe something, anything would save them both. She came up with some plans herself. But maybe it was time. She had to tell him in the morning. Even if he'd get angry at her for keeping it secret so long. Didn't matter now - the only thing that did was his safety.

Alice didn't even realized how many hours have passed in this woken up state of hers. The sound of the inmates opening their eyes, yawning, shuffling to sit straight was the only giveaway.

Stan woke up as well, stretching his frame and greeting the woman with a rather cheerful tone, "Good morning, Alice, rise and shine!"

When she didn't reaply, he went for another sentence. "Oh, come on! Don't tell me you're still asleep?" She could practically hear the smile on his lips.

"Stanley, I have to tell you something." she spoke quietly, not looking through the small door window.

"I- " her throat began closing once more. Not finding the right words she let the silence settle in again. But this was important; she had to speak even if it meant the others would hear or that she'd fumble over her own words.

"I- I have a key." the girl finally splurted out, "Not just any key, I mean, I have the key to the cells. To our cells. Guildford gave it to me before he escaped."

"The key! You have it???" Stan asked loudly, pressing his face against the door's metal bars. "I wondered where it went!"

A soft smile crossed Alice's features, "Yes! I-I had it - I kept it safe, no one even suspected a thing. But, Stan, I was so scared. I still am! I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, I'm really really sorry, I just didn't know how'd things truly turn out." she finally exhaled, "I was scared they would kill us if we tried."

"Oh, Alice," Stan's features softened, "you didn't have to be. We'd figure it out somehow, I'm sure!"

"Here," she could hear his movement as he shuffled. When she stood up to look at him, his hand was outstreched across his side of the corridor as much as he could be. His face was touching the metal bars as his shoulder pressed through the holes.

The girl understood immediately. Quickly, she mirrored his movement, aiming her hand through her own enclosure, the rusted key in her fingers. She was scared to drop it, her hands were sweaty but despite it, her nails dug deep into her palm.

Almost there. Their hands could almost touch. Alice cpuld practically feel the heat coming off of the man's body, but still. The tiniest bit of space still separated them. She stretched even more, and so did he. The metal was pressing tight against their faces yet didn't budge for a milimeter.

"Oi! What's this all about?!" a warden's voice sliced through the cold air, a few more armoured men behind him. Both parties immediatelly retrieved, as if nothing at all was going on. They were panting out of exhastion, a sliver of powerlessness and deafeat visible on their faces. Bit all these emotions only multipled when the guard came closer and told the Dudley's son of his next steps.

"Get ready, it's your time to shine." his hoarse voice was painted with malice as it accompanied a crooked smile.

"What?" Stanley went pale and quiet. Anxious panic overtaking his mind.

Over the jingle of his cage opening, he couldn't even hear his own thoughts.

Could it be? All this time being locked up down here, and finally seeing hope, a clear way out, just for it to immediatelly die out, like candlelight in a strong gust of wind.

Alice couldn't believe it either. She saw it all go down with her two eyes, not being able to find Stan's. As they opened the door, as they grabbed the man harshly, as they guided him out and through the corridor. She could only hear the quickened beating of her heart, all animals getting silent at the presence of a certain death sentence.

She slid down to the floor in a frozen cramping state, her mind too scared and too clouded to act. But she had to. She had to do something.

The key in her hands was heavy, making her hands suddenly itch. She had all the answers right there, in front of her and in the crook of her fingers. And then there was this feeling. It wasn't helplessness anymore, it was will. Will to help, will she must have owed Stan something; their friendship or maybe their future.

In a bittersweet moment the woman swiftly stuck the key into the lock, turning it with an old-sounding, rustic click. Her door swung open finally letting her see more than the small opening let her.

There it was.

It was a strange feeling, she was still scared, but ready and to help nontheless. This entire time, this whole life she felt as if she couldn't do those heroic acts, not being able to fight for what's right or even stand up for herself. And she still felt like that, just her body was quicker than her doubting mind at the moment. But what was there to really do next? She had no plan, no friends, no nothing.

"Psst, hey you!" a quiet voice called out, bringing Alice back to reality. "Mind lending a hand?" a small girl with a sly look in her eyes, just a few cells down the line asked.

Without any words, the woman stepped closer and opened her encloser as well.

"Wait, me too!" a man next to her asked.

"What's going on? Are we escaping???" another voice shouted.

"No, here! Over here!!!"

The voices of all the prisoners began chiming in and putting their two cents in, asking, begging or threatening Alice to let them free. The noises became louder and louder by each second, surely already alerting the guards outside.

The woman was working quickly. Turning the key in each and every cell she came by, in an overwhelming trance. Her hands were shaking and her pupils scanning the room nervously from all the pressure. The free prisoners thanked her shortly, either scurrying away or trying to break out all the ones that were still locked. All while the shrills just got stronger. They were running out of time. The metal bars were flying, animals and people began crowding the small hallway, chaos unravelled. One after the other, the doors just kept opening, Ethians kept escaping. Some greeted eachother with tears and embraces, others locked hands as to not get separated again. Some knew eachother, some didn't, but stuck close out of gratefullnes and sense of help. Entire families found their ways to eachother In the mids of all this outrage, Alice almost smiled.

"What's this!?" the warden's voice got drowned by the cries, pleas and all the animalistic sounds. "Into your cells, immediately!!!"

The disorder of people began quieting down, confused at what to do next. The fright of there guards, and especially Lord Seymour, was something that tied them all together.

More and more guards flooded the exit door, withdrawing their swords, ready to put this anarchy back to how it was before.

Alice was at the front of the crowd, dangerously close to the knights. She was still scared, yes, but she already came so far. And how many people she had freed, there was no chance they were going back now.

She turned to the small girl still next to her, leaning closer. "Here, keep helping the prisoners. We'll figure something out in the meantime, okay?" she softly and quietly said, pushing the key into the girl's smaller hands with a nod.

The woman stood up back again, eyeing the guards. She curled her hands into fists, internally a whole lot unsure on how'd that even work, or how does one even fight. She tried to calm her frantic breathing as the growls of the Ethians behind her increased, ready to take back their long deserved freedom.

"Out of the way!" someone from the back suddenly called out. Alice's quick cat instincts threw her to the wall, her flow of thoughts interrupted completelly. Just like her, all the people made a quick corridor for what was coming. Everyone could only see a giant blur of thick greyish-brown fur, galloping down the hall, crashing into the confused guards at a rapid speed, tumbling them down like a bunch of pins in a game of bowling. Their heavy armour and equipment made it difficult to move swiftly, giving the crowd a great opportunity to escape even further. And they wasted to time.

Alice shifted into her cat form and many people followed. They overcame the stairway, birds flying out, insects hoping by, snakes slithering up. The door out was already broken by the massive boar that cleared their way so effortlessly, the girl made a mental note to personally thank him later.

The sheer mass of animals flooded the yard, attacking and scaring away all the guards that were still there. The noises grew and so did the thrill of liberty.

They turned the corner. It wasn't difficult to miss the royal well in the distance. The queen and her closest allies were seated to watch the execution closely, so were many common folk bystanders. Once they saw the horde approaching, panic grew amongst the crowd. Some froze on the spot, some watched in disgust, some began screaming. Queen Mary was the one who did all three of these. She yelled out for Seymour to do something with the filthy prisoners, to shoot them all with no mercy.

But to no avail. Some birds flew down, pecking at the Verities, other animals quickly followed with their own techniques.

Alice saw Stan, tied and held right by the well. Her long strides tried to close the distance, jumping over, squeezing by or running under the moving limbs of all the people present.

In a flash of light she turned back to human, reaching the man.

"Are you alright???" she panted, deep breaths escaping her lungs.

"I'm having a horrible déjà vu." he spoke, his eyes fixed at the crowd.

Alice let out a small breathy chuckle, untying the ropes that bound him. She dropped them to the floor, Stan's now free hands reaching for hers as she tugging at them to make their way out.

"But... But you came back?" his eyes lit up, beginning to tear up, not budging to move. "Even though you were oh so scared?"

"Yes. I'm sorry, Stan, it's all my fault." she pulled once again, her reply short and reasonable, ready to get them away from the danger of the scuffle.

"That's," he sniffled with a giant smile, whispering dramatically , "That's the most honourable thing anyone has eved done for me." he looked around at the animals. "I mean, look! If rhis isn't bravery I don't know what is."

Alice smiled a bit, his words were heartwarming, yes, but she still felt a whole lot guilty. If it wasn't for her fear, they could have escaped ages ago. "Thanks." she turned away, a bit shyly.

"Oh, Alice... " Stan's eyes closed and his lips puckered as he leaned in, expecting for the girl to do the same.

"Oh! Oh, wow um," her own eyes shot open, clearly not expecting this gesture, a deep shade of warm maroon painting her cheeks. "Stan, I'm gonna be honest, I don't think this is a good time for a fairytale-esque true love's kiss." she tugged at his hands once more.

His eyes opened, a bit embrassed, looking around again. 'Right, shucks, gotta learn how to read the room more." he chuckled as well.

"Wait, you think I am your fairytale-equse true love?"

Night path (epilogue)

Dearon "The Drunken" Targaryen (A Knight Of the Seven Kingdoms) x F!reader

Word count: 1,1k

Summary: The new life at the royal court seems more than just a dream come true.

TW: mentions of nudity, mentions of dead by alcohol

Author note: You have no idea how much your support means to me <333 The amount of love you've shown this work is incredible and im so so thankful, despite its very short lenght. Speaking of lenght, I'm really really sorry that this final one is a whole lot shorter than the previous ones, I wasn't really sure how to wrap it all up. Also I've started working on some other fics as well, (akotsk but also some from different fandoms) so that's just something I gave myself to look forward to!! (Also plspls NEVER be scared to ask for a request, I'm usually the one scared about my works and their quality lmao)

part 1, part 2, part 3

The morning sunlight caressed your face, pulling you out of your dreamless rest. You opened your eyes and groaned. But when you tried to get up, something heavier obscured your movement.

You didn't have to look down to know your husbands presence.

His head burried in the crook of your neck, his hands circled around your body as if you were to run away. You didn't plan to. It has been a good few weeks since you've been married and if you wanted to escape, you'd certainly already would.

You didn't really know what was expected of you once you entered this family. Of course, there was the universal task of bringing the next generation in this world, but you didn't have to worry about that right now. The 'honeymoon phase' was still pretty much in full comotion, with both of you agreeing the kids should come when you'll be ready.

But what else? Was that all you had to do?

"Daeron, dear, I shall just... " you whispered into the man's ear, carefully slipping his limbs away. It was unusual for a royal couple to share bed chambers, but it was your own request.

He groaned in protest as you came towards the window. The autumn land in the distance was stretching as far as you could see, the trees dressed in the colors of fire. You wished to go outside. Most of your days were spent there. If it wasn't for Summerhall's gardens ans forests, you would have grown tired of this place long ago. Stumbling through the greenery, watching the wildlife or sitting under a comfortable tree, with your beloved's head in your lap - you've never been so content. It kind of reminded you of your childhood days, when you'd chase your siblings in the silliest of games, your mother yelling for you to be more careful.

"How was your sleep?" you turned back towards the bed, Daeron's eyes finally opening.

He gave a deep exhale and answered, "Better."

"Yes? I'm glad." you smiled at him. No one ever prepared you for the fact your husband would be a dragon-dreaming martyr, tortured by his own sleep. But lately it seemed it started to get at least a bit better. Maybe he could understand them better, or maybe he had a few nights without any dreams at all. You wanted to know how it feels, but despite him explaining it numerous times you weren't as sure as you'd like to be.

However the one thing you agreed was helping, was the presence of another person near. And you couldn't be more glad to provide that.

"Help me get ready," you moved to grab your clothing, tossing them at the bed besides Daeron.

"You too." he grinned, pulling his sleeping tunic over his head.

Your dynamic did change. It wasn't as careful and tiptoey as it once was. You've grown so fond of this new knowing familiarity, that you didn't only gain a husband but a best friend as well. Not to mention new companions; such as Kiera or the other small princes and princesses, and a brand new family alongside them.

Slipping out of your nightgown, you put on your undergarments. Followed by the outer skirt and the bodice, Daeron stepped closer and helped you with the ties on the back. Once done, you smoothed out the wrinkles while he dropped a gorgeous necklace around above your collarbones.

You turned your head over the shoulder, offering him a genuine smile. It was his time to get ready, and you helped just as much as he did you.

One of the many benefits of being so far from the claim for throne is the lack of duties. Of course, princes still have duties, but they are much more insignificant as the ones of the king. Supporting the monarch in public, charity patronage or diplomatic representation in the name of the crown are just few. And even those are so rare. Most of the time, their only role is to form a strong supporting bond with another great House. Which was already done. So in those time of such abundance of heirs, the only thing remaining for them is to just walk around, look regal and do whatever they please.

Daeron excelled in this non-contributing lifestyle, as much as he'd long for a purpose better than that. When you'd sit in those warm gardens he'd often say what was on his troubled mind. You'd talk about secrets no one else's ears ever would hear, taking this blooming allyship exeptionlly seriously.

The jade grass danced in the breeze, alongside the amber like pointy leaves and ferns - the entire ground looked like made of jewels.

Your husband laid down, his golden hair forming a sort of halo around his head. In one of his hands was his usual, half-empty, leather flask. Ocsasionally he'd take the tiniest of sips. Another one of his ever-present problems you tried working on. Not because you wanted to changed him, but because you wanted to help him, not wanting to see him dead in a ditch due to the fact he might overdrink.

But he was doing quite well. Your marriage gave him a reason to stop going to brothels and pubs, venturing out only when you were around to keep a safe eye on him.

Those were small steps, but steps nontheless.

During days like this, you could feel the link to this place grow and strenghten. Not only you found a home where you belong, but a true purpose as well. Your sister once pitied you for this fate, walking into a cave full of dragons - only a few people could return. But you didn't want to return.

Everything was happening just as you wished for it to happen. And while the good king still sat the throne, the realm was still safe. Your days would be full of sun and warmth, even during the toughest of winters.

A small bird trilled above your head as you absently played with Daeron's hair. Twirling it around your fingers, your imagination filling up your head with neverending daydreams.

"You know, I was thinking," you started, stopping your hand's movement for a second, "and I feel I had a good idea."

"Hm? Let's hear it then," The prince hummed. Lazily opening his lilac eyes, trying to find yours, but to no avail. Yours were staring somewhere in distance, upon the faraway hills, covered in own forests.

Night path (part 3)

Dearon "The Drunken" Targaryen (A Knight Of the Seven Kingdoms) x F!reader

Word count: 3,8k

Summary: The wedding day with the dragon prince nears, but as your excitement grows so does your nervousness. The ride to Summerhall is long and uncomfortable, and what you really wish for is for it all to be over.

TW: heavy alcohol intoxication, a twinge of angst, slightly suggestive in the middle, doubious consent (?) but nothing happens

Author note: Probably the last addition to this short series! I'm sorry if this one feels a bit rushed, I just had to somehow celebrate the end of season 1 of akotsk despite my outrageous lack of free time. I'm gonna miss them soo much

The air was thick and warm, laced with a distant smell of flowers, apples and figs. Despite the early hour, the sun was high up, not shielded by a single cloud in the entire sky. But you didn't mind the warmth upon your skin - the breeze brushed through your hair, caturing your worries and letting them abandon your active mind.

The hoofs of your horse gently galloped on the wide feild before reaching the dusty road alongside. There, you slowed down, pulling the reins closer to your body. You could see the Red Keep in front of you, in the distance.

It didn't take long for you to reach the outskirts of the town, entering the steep cobblestone streets carefully but swiftly. The usual bustle was apparent. You passed many various stalls of the market, farmers, some courtesans, nuns and groups of playing children all together. The road was narrow, but despite the chaos, King's Landing seemed to have it's own found quick lifestyle within it.

Once saw the entrance to the castle clearly, you picked up your speed again, ending your morning journey in the royal stables.

You could feel the autumn soon to come in just a few days, hopefully bringing more peaceful tides with it. The summer drought was long and cruel, replaced by waves of numerous thunders, almost flooding all fields. It was a miracle how some crops survived. Hopefully it wouldn't rain on your wedding day.

Your wedding day. You wondered as you walked through the halls back to your chambers. At the end of summer at Summerhall.

The preparations for this day must have been grand. The first son of a forth son of the king himself getting married - doesn't happen every day. You really couldn't wait, despite the growing knot of nerves bundling up at the bottom of your stomach. No one even told you how long would the celebrations last, but you expected them to be at least a week long if not a month, taking into consideration the overwhelming amount of chests, packed with your belingings and readied for the way. And that was just you. But, of course, you were the bride, so that was expected.

Summerhall, the elegant castle situated in the southern Stormlands, near the foothills of the Red Mountains. You've never been there yourself, how could you, really. But you were sure the journey would take at least two weeks; ten days if the group of travelling carriages really rushed. If you'd fly on a dragon, that would be a different story entirely. That could only take a couple of hours, you were sure. But alas. Dragons were no more. At least the ones who had wings, scales and spat fire. You often wondered how different the world would have been if those beasts still existed. Would all the princes have one each? Would Daeron let you fly with him? Or would they all just lay waste to innocent cities, just like their mad ancestors before them? Those were the stories you at least heard.

In a few hours, you took one last glance at the walls of the Targaryen residency before you stepped into your carriage, followed by the sound of a whip and the hoofs clattering on the stone undedneath. This journey was something you didn't look forward to at all. It would be long, uncomfortable and repetetive. But you were sure you could keep yourself atleast semi-entertained by the fruit of your imagination and the passing nature behind ths curtains of the windows.

And the nature did pass indeed. The streets you knew so well, the feilds, the mountains, the trees, the rivers. Everything you saw on your first ride here, when you were just about to meet your betrothed.

But it got boring after a few hours. Your behind hurt from the harsh wooden seats and the bumpinnes of the road, your stomach was growling and your headache felt more prominent with each minute without water. You tried to sleep but to no avail. Closing your eyes tightly, you hoped the horses would gallop faster and the sun would set sooner.

You weren't sure when the ride ended. The only thing you could feel was the stop of the carriage underneath you.

The door opened with the face of a servant peering inside the frame, holding out an arm to help you out. You opened your eyes with difficulty - you felt so horrible you could die. The only thing you wanted was to bundle up the cheapest of bedsheet from whichever inn you were staying the night in. The hand of the servant was great for balance as you stumbled out, letting a sigh of relief escape your lungs as you felt the grassy ground under your feet. You breathed heavily, letting the fresh air wash out your sickness.

The sun was already setting and the carriages stopped by the road and a nearby grove in a somewhat of a clearing. Some fireplaces were already blazing its fiery tongues into the dark, spitting small sparks which blended with stars.

You didn't expect to camp the first night. You knew the journey was long and the road not always friendly, but you still hoped for a proper bed, especially now. At least the cold didn't bite. Stepping closer to the fire, you crouched and extended your palms, more so instinctively than to warm up. The heat captured both your tired eyes and mind. There was still some time to spare until the tents were built and you didn't plan on moving.

Suddenly, you heard the grass behind you muffle. Ths steps were carefull and quiet but you still caught them. It seemed the person behind you was just as mesmerized by the blaze as you were. "Good evening," you spoke softly without turning, just tilting your head.

"Good evening, my Lady." Daeron's familiar voice caressed your ears.

"Don't you know it's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding day?" you smiled, turning your hands to catch the glimmer of light upon your engagement ring.

"I thought it only counts right before the ceremony." his voice was slow, quiet and solemn, as always, "But I might just risk it."

The man crouched besides you, enveloped by the amber haze. You finally looked at him. Tracing lines alongside his face with your eyes.

You knew that every night was a torture for your promised. And by everything, if you could help him you would - it always broke your heart to see him so melancholic, but god, did he look handsome.

"I had another vision." Daeron spoke after a while. His ability did intrigue. It was like magic and all your attention belonged to him.

"I saw," he began, as always when he was telling you about his dreams. It wasn't often as he didn't want to trouble you, but you still persuaded him to do so. "An empty wine glass." his throat bobbed as he swallowed harshly, finally lifting up his martyrous gaze to reciprocate yours, "and you."

You stayed silent.

"The way you looked at me... With disgust... " He offered a soft sarcastic smile but you could see the tears starting to well up.

"Daeron." you grabbed his hands firmly. "I wouldn't look- I won't look at you with disgust." you put emphasis on your words. There was no need to sugercoat it when it was the whole truth.

You were smiling at him hopefully, and his lips twitched little as well but just for a second. You could feel the worry settled deep in his guts. And yours too. Would he be capable of doing something so horrible to get such a raw, viceral and cruel reaction?

"Besides," you continued more lightheartedly, "I found you lying face down in the mud. It doesn't get any worse than that, no?"

"Well, I'm awfully gifted at lying face down in the mud, as you can tell." he joked, catching your attempt of steering the gloomy conversation elsewhere.

"My Lady, your tent is all set up!" one of the servants called out from the distance.

You wanted to stay and linger in this intimate moment with the prince, under the open sky with twinkling stars, crackling fire and pinkish cheeks, but you had to admit, you weren't sure how long it would take before falling into a deep slumber. So you gave Daeron one last smile accompanied by a reassuring squeeze of your hands.

"Good night, my Lord. See you in the morrow."

~~~

The sixth day of your travels neared the end as the carriages stopped once again. You were barely getting used to the neverending wobbling and sickness which followed every step of those damned horses. But only barely. It was getting unbearable. The ride, the sleep. Then again. And again, and again. With occasional quick pauses for eating, drinking and some bathroom related activities. But at least you were almost halfway there, you reassured yourself.

Most of the time the tents worked fine. But tonight, the ride ended at some lonesome inn. The windows shined with golden light as you could hear the murmur of patrons inside.

Finally a proper bed. With some simple food and good atmosphere. You were ecstatic. Making your way towards the building, you didn't bother to wait for the others to arrive - all you wanted was a piece of quiet in a steady room. But as soon as you took a first step, you could hear someone call out your name.

"Kiera," you turned your head and replied, fighting the urge to topple over due to your dizziness.

The woman caught up to you and hooked her arm with yours. "Let's get inside quickly. I'm incredibly tired," she complained.

"So am I." you agreed as you started walking again, "The ride is a mess."

Your friend smiled at you in agreement. A small quirk of lips that spoke of fatigue. "Indeed. I'm quite worried, actually. I mean, what if we stumble upon any theifs or bandits or outlaws... or such?"

"Oh, surely not!" a worried grin spread across your face. You didn't even consider this possibility.

The two of you reached the front door, followed by the main counter. Kiera plopped two silver coins onto the wooden surface, asking for two seperate rooms, far away from the hubbub of the customers and drunkards. The woman behind the counter gave her a proplexed look; it was no secret the people from royal court tended to overpay.

As she was walking you to your respective corners, you noticed the door opened once more and some of the men entering. Most of them were servants, but you recongnized a few kingsguards and, of course, the two princes, Daeron and Aerion. However, they didn't order a room. Instead, they sat down at one of the tables.

Maybe you could join them a bit later.

"I think I will ask Valarr to stay in the room besides mine." Kiera spoke, one of her pink curls falling upon her brow. "You can never be too sure, especially in a place like this." You admired her smart carefulness.

"Nothing bad shall happen." you reassured her with a smile. "There are dozen kingsguards watching everything with the upmost careful eyes."

Inside your room, you threw yourself into the nearest bath, letting out a relaxed breath of finally being able to wash away the dust and dirt.

~~~

You flinched as you heard a loud noise, your eyelids fluttering open. Scanning your surroundings a bit confused and alert, you realized you were still in the bath, now gone completely cold. Hurriedly, you stood up and dressed, silently cursing and hoping you won't catch any sickness, especially now, a few days before your wedding.

The sounds were coming from the men still sitting, drinking and conversing in the main area. That much for a 'room, far away from the hubbub of the customers and drunkards'.

You'd normally put yourself properly to bed, but now, feeling fresh from both the water and the nap, you decided you wanted to explore a bit. Your mouth did felt quite dry afterall.

You tiptoed down the hall and down the stairs, trying to stay aware of your surroundings. Reaching the counter, you sat at one of the wide, bench-like stools, ordering something to wash down your thirst with. You also watched the room around you. Some men sat at bigger groups laughing and drinking, others were alone, already passed out with their foreheads on the wooden tables. The barkeeper slid your drink towards you as you gave her a copper coin. Your dress was much lighter and simpler; you weren't sure if she remembered you from earlier, but just for now, you wanted to feel like a girl of the smallfolk.

Someone threw their body on the spot besides you, not even letting you take the first gulp. Your head turned slightly to take a glance at this mysterious person from the side.

But a grin appeared on your face when you saw the person besides you was in fact Daeron.

In the midst of any situation he somehow always managed to find you, being drawn to you like moth to a flame.

His face was red as he leaned on one of his arms against the counter, gesturing with the other one for anothed drink. His movements were uncoordinated, swaying from side to side a bit before he noticed you. Once his eyes met yours, he squinted, focusing his vision as his smile only grew. You watched him as well, fluttering your eyelashes in confusion as you expected him to say something, anything. He didn't. Instead, his eyes were slowly dragging across your figure, taking greedy swallows, as if your were the very wine that put him to sleep so often.

"You look at me so kindly, wife." he slurred out. You didn't even know what he meant by that, but what you did know, was the cause of this sudden loss if inhibition. The sweet smell of the alcohol on his breath reached you and spoke stories of the entire evening and night spent drinking.

When the barkeeping woman passed him his wine he reached for it clusily and almost knocked it over, dragging it closer to him.

After a few more long moments of the same tense eye-tag, interrupted only by your small sips, Daeron scooched closer, bumping and pressing your thighs together in the process. His hand finding its place on the fabric of your dress there.

"It's a shame," you started with a grin, "you shouldn't have been drink tonight." your cheeks started to redden as well but not from the alcohol.

"...why is that?" his reply slightly delayed.

You took another swallow and continued, "Oh, I don't know. We could have ventured somewhere again."

"Mm?" he downed the entire glass of wine in one swig and pressed himself even closer to you.

"Somewhere, like your bedroom?"

His mouth found your neck, burrying itself in your skin. His hands found your waist and gripped it firmly.

"What???" you said, much louder than you expected. Your face practically glowed with crimson, considering the fact the two of you haven't even had your first kiss yet.

Daeron seized the curve of your ass, lifting you up just enough for him to slid underneath you and position you in his lap. All a lot clumsily and with far less controlled movement.

"Daeron, dear, I don't think it's a good idea." you stuttered out quietly, in clear disstress of what to make out of this situation. Not only was this highly innapropriate of him to just do that, but also you were in public. You did wanted this man just how much he wanted you, but now it wasn't the time.

His trail of kisses continued underneath your ear and onto your cheek, towards your mouth.

You took his face into your hands and pulled him away. Making him face you, his closed eyes opened, just slightly and lidded. "I don't understand... Do you not love me?"

"I do, I do love you, Daeron. It's just- " you took a quick breath as you began explaining, hoping it would get to him despite his intoxication.

"I wish this was more special. I want for both of us to remember these acts of love, doesn't matter if it's just mere kisses or... lovemaking." You were aware how naive you sounded, but it was still something you wished for. Will he even remember this conversation? "Speaking of, I am not your wife yet. If you'd wait just a couple more days- how do you think we'll consummate our marriage? Do you think I do not look forward to it just as you are?"

Despite his movements stilling, you could feel the growing hardness in his pants. His hands moved from your ass back to your waist. But in doing so, even if it was just a natural reaction to these ciurcumstances he found himself in, his hips involuntarily and accidentaly bucked forwards, meeting your core through the layers of fabric.

"Daeron!" you called out angrily and stood up, untangling his hands from you. The cold air reaching the parts of your body now lacking his touch.

"I'm sorry, I am truly sorry," your betrothed pleaded, his drunk state clouding his mind. His sad gaze met yours again, holding the eye contact until he noticed your expression. Your cross expression - one that a person could possibly mistake for disgust. He then frantically turned to look at his empty glass besides him.

All his dreams come true, sooner or later.

Before he could look at you again, you were already pacing towards your room, more so dissapointed than enraged.

~~~

You saw the walls of Summerhall in the distance. A peaceful, lightly fortified retreat surrounded by beautiful nature, used mostly for getaways and relaxation. Until now, you didn't really realize the weight of what was about to come.

You haven't seen Daeron since your quarell at the inn, and whether he was actively avoiding you or not, you weren't happy for that.

Of course, what you were happy about was to see your family after such a long time away from them, but on the other hand, your stomach began making flips at the thought of the ceremony. It wouldn't be that long until you had to recite your vows in front of everyone, so you made sure to rehearse them greatly while getting ready.

You spent hours in the bath until the water got cold. Scented lotions and flower petals, brought to you on silver platters, were taking turns one after the other, each put on different part of your body. Your hair, braided, swirled, put up - you couldn't even describe it. It was complex and detailed, and so gorgeous, long loose strands twisted and set loose down your back. Before you put on your delicate linen undergarments, the outer pieces came in layers, with the help of your maids.

The dress was beautiful. Its silvery shades of white glistened in the candlelight, adorned with intricate embroidry cascading down the entirety of the long floor-lenght sleeves, neckline and skirt. It was, unsuprisingly, heavy.

You stared in awe at the fabric. A dress this elaborate must have cost fortune.

Next came the jewellery, weighing down and restraining your movement even more so than before. A heavy necklace was placed on your collarbones, covering them fully. A matching girdle belt clung to your waist and the front side of your dress. A final headpiece rested atop your head, reminding you of a some type of crown. You wondered whether any pieces were traditional; Valyrian. You also wondered whether the Targaryen family prefered a modern celebration as opposed to the blood rituals of their ancestors.

The entire process took long, too long for your liking. You were sure this much bejewelling would assure all the eyes to be set at you, but that just made you more nauseous. What if you'll trip? It would take an enternity and half the kingdom to pull you back up.

You swallowed hard. It was time.

Very slowly, you made your way down, towards the main hall. The doors were closed but your father awaited you in front of them. You jumped into his arms carefully, tears welling up in his eyes. It was nice to see a familair face. Both of you didn't say a word, maybe not knowing what to say, or not having the need to.

He threw your maiden's cloak around your shoulders, the colors and symbol of your house in contrast with the white. You haven't seen it in so long, you almost forgot you weren't a dragon.

You hooked your hand into the crook of his arm, squeezing it firmly for both support and out of nervousness.

No bridesmaids or flowergirls were accompanying you - the Faith of the Seven ceremony didn't require any. Just the septon, the future spouses and the guests.

The doors finally opened. You've never seen so many people at one place.

It was quiet and the walk down the aisle was long. You eyes caught up with some faces in the crowd, not recognizing any. Your father was walking securely, being a wall you could lean on due to your wobbly knees and heavy garments. But as you made your way towards the middle, you could see your family at the front, alongside the Targaryens. Why couldn't you look at the man you were about to marry? Was it guilt?

Just a few steps. A few stairs separating you and your new life. With bowed head and eyes set on the floor in uncertainity, you took them. The spton lifted up his arms, signaling everyone to sit down. You turned your head over your shoulder, watching as the mass of people, as if a wave coming ashore, all listened and took their seats. You finally quirked your head to look at Daeron.

His sad purple eyes lifted as well, meeting yours in a warm embrace. You didn't look away, nor did he.

"I'm sorry." he whispered so softly you would be so sure you onky imagined it, if it wasn't for the movement of his lips.

Your father slid down your maiden's cloak, revealing your breathtaking dress, gifting the young prince with a clueless smile before retreating to sit as well. You could hear the soft whispering murmurs of the crowd, too quiet to be illegible but loud enough to know they were talking. Daeron's eyes didn't tore away from you as he gently placed his own cloak upon your shoulders, wrapping you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. It was colder than the last one, wine red and black, with embroided dragons as the symbol of his House. The blood and fire. It was difficult to believe this cowardly but kind man belonged to those madmen. The passage of bride from her father's protection into the one of her husband's. You weren't sure how to feel.

"With this kiss I pledge my love and take you for my lady and wife," Daeron said slowly and quietly, his voice almost quivering, as he stood up to properly face you.

"With this kiss I pledge my love," you took his hands into your as you spoke as well, "and take you to be my lord and husband."

Both of you waited, and to the crowd it could look as if you've hesitated. But it was only the fear of scaring the other one away, even further than you already were during those last few days. Days the two of you should have celebrated your bond during.

His hand cupped one of your cheeks as your own hands slithered up to his shoulders. One last glance into his eyes told you everything. You did wanted to marry him. As every relationship you had to expect it's ups and downs, especially if your other half was the prince of the Seven Kingdoms. Well, Nine, technically.

You lips joined in a warm, affectionate kiss, ending the long-lasting yearning, the starved glances and the doubt.

Your husband's lips were soft and welcoming. And if you could stay in this moment forever, you would.

But you couldn't, as the most important people of the kingdom, including your families, were watching you closely. The two of you gently pulled away and the septon recited a protecting prayer upon this bond, declaring you "...one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever."

Your heart pounded inside your chest with overwhelming joy. People cheered as you took Daeron's arm, signaling not only the end of the official ceremony, but the start of the celebrations.

The feast was held with you and the prince sitting by the head of the table. Firstly, you had to cut open the wedding pie, letting out the swarm of doves baked inside. An old tradition you didn't really understand much. Then, the upmost luxurious foods would be served for everyone who decided to come, including various soups, smoked meats, spiced desserts, exotic fruits and sweet alcohols. It will last many days, with possible tourneys held in your honor. Finally, this night would end by the bedding ceremony and the consummation itself. You didn't pay it no mind at the moment. You were a bit anxious, yes, but excited to see where the winds of your new life will brings you, with the man you've grown to love so much right by your side, hopefully as long as possible.

Night path (part 2)

Daeron ‘The Drunken’ Targaryen (A Knight Of the Seven Kingdoms) x F!reader

Word count: 4,9k

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

@thelastemzy

@callmegogosblog

(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.

"May I have a request?"

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.

Was he even here?

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.

Night path

Daeron ‘The Drunken’ Targaryen (A Knight Of the Seven Kingdoms) x F!reader

Word count: 4k

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.

Alone, at last.

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 wasn't there.

He was with another woman.

He was dead.

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."

Yellow?

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.

Thud.

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.

"Why?"

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.