𝒟𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓇

In her dream, Daemyra found herself standing in the middle of a vast, dark void. The air was thick and heavy, and there was an odd sense of anticipation in the air. Suddenly, a soft, warm light appeared in the distance, and as she drew closer, she realized that it was an egg glowing faintly in the darkness. She reached out a hand and touched the surface of the egg, feeling a strange connection to it that she couldn't quite explain.

As she touched the egg, a feeling of heat began to fill her, like a gentle fire burning in her veins. She felt a deep sense of contentment and satisfaction as if she had found something that had been missing for a long time. As she continued to hold the egg, she began to hear faint whispers and murmurs, like soft voices speaking in a language she didn't understand. She tried to make out the words, but they were too faint and distant for her to decipher. She looked at the egg, its surface now glowing brighter than ever, and she felt a strong sense of destiny and purpose. It was like the egg was speaking straight to her soul, telling her that it was meant for her.

She felt a deep connection to the egg and a sense of responsibility that she couldn't ignore. As she continued to touch the egg, the whispers grew louder and more urgent, like they were trying to communicate something important. She strained to listen, her heart racing with anticipation. As the whispers grew louder and louder, Daemyra found herself struggling to cope with the intensity of the sound. It felt like they were inside her head like they were trying to drown out her own thoughts and emotions. In her desperation to escape the voices, she dropped the egg and brought her hands up to her ears, hoping to block out the racket.

The moment the egg left her hands, the whispers abruptly stopped. She stood still for a few moments, her heart pounding in her chest, trying to make sense of what just happened. She slowly lowered her hands from her ears, taking a deep breath to steady herself. As she took a breath, she looked down and saw that the egg had now been engulfed in a huge fire. The flames were unlike anything she had ever seen before. They were brighter and hotter than any fire she had ever encountered. They cast an eerie light around her, illuminating every part of the dark void. Her eyes widen in shock and awe, unsure of how this could even be possible.

She took a step back, her heart pounding in her chest as she stared at the fire. The heat was intense, almost unbearable, and the flames crackled and danced around the egg like a living thing. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the sight, completely transfixed by the power and beauty of it all. The whispers had stopped, but now she could hear another sound, a deep, low hum that seemed to emanate from the very core of the fire. It was a primal, guttural sound, like the roar of a wild beast.

She took a step back, her heartbeat quickening once again as the hum grew increasingly louder and more powerful. She knew that she should probably be afraid, but instead, she felt a strange sense of fascination and wonder. Daemyra's eyes flicked to something in the middle of the fire, and her heart rate quickened even more. In the middle of the flames, she saw something that looked like an eyepatch. It was made of some kind of leather-like material, and it was being consumed by the fire, the edges smoldering and crumbling. She felt a sense of recognition as if she knew who this eyepatch belonged to.

Her mind was swirling with confusion and curiosity, and she tried to piece together the connection between the eyepatch and the giant fire. She took a small step closer, her eyes fixed on the burning eyepatch. The fire was still burning fiercely, the heat now almost unbearable. But Daemyra couldn't help but be drawn towards the eyepatch like it was drawing her closer to it. She extended a hand, reaching out towards the burning eyepatch, her fingers nearly touching the scorching hot material. As her fingers grazed the eyepatch, she felt a strange connection to it, like it was somehow connected to her. She could feel the fire licking at her skin, but she ignored the pain, her focus completely on the eyepatch.

The eyepatch was burning hot, but she gripped it tightly in her hand nonetheless, unwilling to let it go. As she held it close to her chest, feeling the heat from the fire against her skin, she could hear a faint, crackling sound coming from within the eyepatch. She studied the eyepatch, her eyes tracing over the leather material. It had been badly damaged by the fire, the edges charred and crumbling, the eye hole reduced to a smoldering hole in the middle. Whoever this eyepatch had belonged to, they had been through a lot.

Daemyra felt a pang of sadness and sympathy for the owner of the eyepatch, imagining the hardships and challenges they must have faced. She gently touched the eyepatch with her fingertips, as if to ease its pain. The fire around her had reduced to a flickering dance now, the flames now only slightly more intense than a normal campfire. The eyepatch had cooled slightly, the leather material still hot to the touch but not nearly as painful as before.

She continued to hold the eyepatch in her hand, her heart still racing from the experience. The hum from before was gone, the only sound now coming from the gentle crackle of the flickering flames. Daemyra's eyes flicked between the white egg and the eyepatch in her hand, her mind still reeling from the events that had transpired. She held the eyepatch tightly, her fingers rubbing against the scorching hot leather as if she were trying to find an answer in its damaged surface. She could tell there was a clear connection between the eyepatch and the egg, but what exactly it was remained a mystery to her

Daemyra suddenly felt a wave of nausea wash over her, her stomach churning and her head spinning. She dropped the eyepatch, her hands moving to her stomach as she tried to stay upright. The nausea came on fast and strong, and she felt as if she was going to be sick. She doubled over, her breaths coming in short, sharp pants as she tried not to vomit. The fire continued to burn, but it felt weaker now, the flames dim and flicker rather than the brilliant dancing light that they had been moments ago. 
Daemyra closed her eyes, trying to fight the sensation of sickness that was steadily growing stronger in her stomach. She was starting to feel dizzy now, the world around her seeming to spin and warp like she was caught in a whirlwind. She tried to take deep, calming breaths, hoping it would make the nausea go away, but it only seemed to make it worse.

Daemyra jolted awake, a wave of nausea crashing over her as she shot upright in bed. She barely had time to register her surroundings before her stomach wretched, and she leaned over the edge of the bed and vomited. The sound of her retching filled the room, the sour taste and smell of vomit filling her senses. She could see the vomit pooling on the floor, the sight of it making her feel even more nauseous. She could hear Otto coming towards the room, his footsteps fast and panicked, as if he had heard the sound of her retching. The door burst open, and Otto appeared in the doorway, his expression filled with worry and concern.

"Daemyra, what's going on?" Otto said, rushing to her side. He knelt next to her, his hands reaching out to steady her shaking body. She was still retching, her body convulsing as the nausea continued to grip her with an iron clutch. She couldn't respond to Otto, her hands clutching at the bed sheets, her eyes squeezed shut in pain and discomfort.

Otto's face was creased with worry, his eyes darting around the room trying to assess the situation. He could see the pool of vomit on the floor, and he could hear the sound of Daemyra retching. He placed a hand on her back, gently rubbing circles in an attempt to soothe her. "It's alright, my love. Take a few deep breaths," he said, his voice low and calm.

She tried to do as he said, but her body was still racked with the sensation of nausea, and she couldn't seem to catch her breath. She continued to vomit, her whole body shuddering with each spasm. Otto continued to rub her back, his hand moving in slow, steady circles, trying to comfort her. He could feel the tension in her muscles, the way her whole body was taut with the effort of vomiting. She was starting to get lightheaded now, the dizziness and nausea making it hard to focus on anything. She could barely hear Otto's voice through the sound of her retching and the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears.

"Father." Otto looked up as Daemyra spoke, his expression immediately becoming more concerned. "What is it, my love?" He said, leaning in closer to hear her whispered words. "Father," she repeated, her voice hoarse and raspy from the vomiting. She clutched at his arm, her fingers digging into his sleeves as she tried to communicate her thoughts through the pain and dizziness. Otto could sense the desperation in her voice, and he leaned in closer, his expression tense with worry. "What is it, Daemyra? Tell me what's wrong," he said, his hand still rubbing her back in slow, soothing circles.

Daemyra took a shaky breath, her voice barely above a whisper as she spoke. "I had a dream," she said, her eyes fluttering open and closed as she fought to stay conscious. "A dream?" Otto repeated, his expression becoming even more concerned. He could see that she was struggling to communicate, her breathing labored, and her body trembling uncontrollably. "Yes," she said, her voice fading in and out as she struggled to speak. "A dream about an egg and an eyepatch." Her words were punctuated by more retching, and she clutched at his arm tighter, her nails digging into his skin.

Otto's eyes widened at her words, his expression becoming tense with worry. He could feel her nails digging into his arm, but he ignored the pain, his focus solely on her and her well-being. He leaned in even closer, his free hand reaching to cup her face. "An egg and an eyepatch?" He repeated, trying to make sure he had heard her correctly. She nodded weakly, her eyes fluttering open and closed as she struggled to keep consciousness. Her body was wracked with the sensation of nausea still, but she fought to speak, her voice raspy and hoarse. "Yes," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I saw an egg and an eyepatch." She closed her eyes, her head rolling back as she retched once again.

Otto's expression was tense with worry, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of her words. He could see the way her body convulsed with each retch, and he could feel the tension in her muscles as they strained against the nausea. "Knowledge is pain." Otto's eyes widened at her words, a sense of dread settling over him. He could see her body convulse as she vomited once again, the sound loud and painful in the quiet room. The vomit hit the ground with a loud splat, a mixture of colors and textures that was both shocking and revolting. Otto grimaced at the sight and smell, but he focused on Daemyra and her words, determined to understand what she was trying to say.

"Knowledge is pain," she repeated, her voice hoarse and raspy from retching. She closed her eyes and took a few shaky breaths, her body still trembling with the lingering effects of the nausea. Otto could sense the desperation and pain in her words, and he continued to rub her back in slow, soothing circles, trying to comfort her. "What do you mean, my love?" He said, his voice soft and gentle. He leaned closer, trying to catch her eye and get her to focus on him.

She took a few more deep breaths, trying to steady herself and control the nausea that was still swirling in her stomach. She opened her eyes and looked at him. Her eyes were unfocused and bleary from the illness. "I don't know," she said, her voice hoarse and rough. "It's like... like I learned something important, but it hurt me to learn it."

Otto's expression was tense with worry as he listened to her speak, his mind reeling with the implications of her words. He could sense the pain and confusion in her voice, and he could see how weak she was, her body still trembling from the effects of the nausea. "Important knowledge shouldn't hurt you, my love," he said, his voice low and soothing. She closed her eyes again, her body shuddering as another wave of nausea washed over her. She took deep, shaky breaths, trying to calm her body and stop the feeling of queasiness. "I don't know," she said again, her voice a strained whisper. "It's like learning the truth sometimes hurts more than living in ignorance."

Otto's eyes widened at her words, the truth of them hitting him like a ton of bricks. He could see the pain and the conflict in her face, and he could feel the tension in her body as she fought to control her nausea. He continued to rub her back in slow, soothing circles, trying to offer whatever comfort he could. "Sometimes the truth is painful," Otto said, his voice strained with sympathy. "But that doesn't make it any less important." He leaned closer to her, his hand coming up to gently stroke her hair. She closed her eyes at his touch, the sensation offering some small comfort amid the nausea and pain. She took a few more deep breaths, her body still trembling but slowly starting to ease.

"Can we go see Mother's grave?" Otto's expression softened as he heard her request, his heart aching at the mention of her mother's grave. He nodded slowly, his hand still stroking her hair gently. "Of course, my love," he said, his voice gentle and soothing. "We can go see your mother's grave whenever you wish." He helped her to sit up, supporting her weak body as she tried to steady herself. The room was still spinning for her, and she felt dizzy and nauseous, but she was determined to make the trip to her mother's grave. Otto carefully scooped her up in his arms, his movements gentle and slow to avoid making her feel any worse. He held her close to his chest, her head resting against his shoulder as he carried her out of the room.

The journey through the corridors was slow and careful, Otto taking extra care to avoid jolting her body and making her nausea worse. He could feel how weak she was in his arms, her body trembling and her breaths shallow. He continued to hold her close, his hand rubbing her back in slow, soothing circles as they made their way towards the gravesite. As they reached the gravesite, Otto and Daemyra found Gwayne already there, sitting in front of his mother's grave. He was deep in thought, his eyes fixed on the gravestone in front of him.

He looked up as they approached, his features becoming concerned when he saw how weak and pale Daemyra was. "What happened?" He said, standing up quickly and moving to join them. Otto gave him a look that said more than words ever could. "She's not feeling well," he said, his voice low. "She wanted to come see the gravestone." He held her closer to his chest, his arms protectively around her fragile body.

Gwayne's expression hardened with concern as he saw the state his sister was in, his eyes flicking to her pale and trembling form. "Is she going to be alright?" He asked, his voice filled with worry. Otto gave him a tight-lipped smile, trying to reassure him. "She'll be fine," he said, his voice soft. "She just needs some rest." He set Daemyra down gently on the grass next to the gravestone, his arms still wrapped around her for support.

Gwayne settled down next to them, his eyes fixed on his sister with a mix of concern and frustration. He could see how weak and pale she looked, and he couldn't help but feel frustrated that there was nothing he could do to ease her suffering. He reached out and took her hand, his touch gentle and comforting. "You look terrible," he said, his voice low. "You should go back to bed and rest." Daemyra shook her head, her eyes fixed on the gravestone in front of her. "No," she said, her voice hoarse and raspy. "I want to stay here."

Gwayne sighed, his frustration evident in the set of his jaw. He knew that she was stubborn and that she wouldn't listen to his advice, but he couldn't help but worry about her. "You're too weak to be here," he said, his voice stern. Daemyra's expression hardened at his words, but she didn't respond. She continued to stare at the gravestone, her eyes filled with unspoken grief and longing. Otto placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, trying to offer her some small comfort.

Gwayne frowned at her stubbornness, but he knew that there was no point in arguing with her. He glanced at Otto, looking for support. "Can you talk some sense into her?" Otto shook his head, his expression resigned. "You know how she is," he said, his voice low. Gwayne sighed, his frustration still evident in his features. He knew that they were right, that Daemyra was too weak to be out here, but he also knew that she wouldn't listen to them. He sat quietly for a few moments, his eyes flicking between his sister and the gravestone in front of them.

Finally, he spoke again, his voice gentle. 
"At least let us go get you a blanket," he said. "You're shivering." Daemyra nodded weakly, her body trembling despite the warm weather. 
She knew that she was cold, but she didn't want to admit it. Otto stood up, his hand moving to her shoulder. "I'll go get a blanket," he said, his voice gentle. He looked at Gwayne, his eyes full of meaning. "Stay here with her," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument.

"Do you blame me?" Gwayne looked at her, confusion and surprise in his expression. "Blame you for what?" He asked, his voice gentle. "For mother's death." Gwayne's face softened, his expression filled with sadness. "Of course not," he said, his voice quiet. "How could I blame you for something that was completely out of your control?" He paused, his eyes fixed on her fragile form. "You didn't ask to be born," he continued, his voice gentle. "You didn't ask for her to die. It's not your fault, Daemyra. It's nobody's fault."

Daemyra nodded slowly, her voice hoarse and raspy. "But I still feel guilty," she said, her words barely audible. "I feel like I'm responsible for her death. I feel like I'm the reason she's not here with us." Gwayne reached out and took her hand, his touch gentle. "You're not responsible for her death," he said, his voice firm. "You didn't kill her. You were just born, that's all. It was just a tragic accident, and no one could have prevented it from happening."

He squeezed her hand, hoping to offer her some small comfort. "You need to stop blaming yourself," he said, his voice soft. "It's not healthy. Mother wouldn't want you to carry this guilt for the rest of your life." Daemyra nodded again, her eyes still fixed on the gravestone in front of her.  She knew that Gwayne was right, that she needed to stop blaming herself for her mother's death, but she couldn't shake the feeling of guilt and responsibility that weighed heavily on her heart.

"How was she?" Gwayne thought for a moment, his mind going back to memories of their mother. "She was kind," he said, his voice low. He paused for a moment, his expression becoming more introspective. "She was always there for us, no matter what. She always knew how to make us laugh, even in the darkest times." He smiled faintly, remembering the way their mother had always doted on them as children. "She was fierce and stubborn, but that was part of what made her great," he continued. "She never backed down from a fight, and she always stuck up for what she believed in."

"I wish I met her." Gwayne's expression softened at her words, his heart aching with sympathy. "I wish you had too," he said, his voice gentle. He squeezed her hand, trying to comfort her in the only way he knew how. "She would have loved you so much," he continued, his voice filled with conviction. "She would have been so proud of you, Daemyra," he said, his eyes fixed on her face. "You're every bit as strong and stubborn as she was. You're exactly like her." Daemyra smiled weakly at his words, her eyes still fixed on the gravestone in front of them. She longed to know what her mother would have been like, but all she had were the stories and memories that Gwayne and Otto had to offer.

"Do you think father misses her?" Gwayne thought for a moment, his expression becoming melancholy. "Yes," he said, his voice quiet. "I think he misses her very much. He loved her deeply, in his way," he continued. "He may not be good at expressing it, but I think he feels her absence every day." He sighed, his expression becoming thoughtful. "I think he's lonely without her," he said, his voice low. "He's always so closed off and distant, but I think it's because he's missing her."

Daemyra nodded silently, her eyes fixed on the gravestone in front of them. She could only imagine the pain and loneliness that her father must have felt after losing the woman he loved. "We should love father more." Gwayne nodded in agreement, his expression becoming more serious. "You're right," he said, his voice firm. "We should. He may not show it, but he needs us more than he lets on. We should show him more love and compassion," he continued, his gaze fixed on his sister's face. "He's not an easy man to love, but he's still our father, and deep down, I know he loves us too." Daemyra nodded, her eyes still fixed on the gravestone. She knew that her father was a difficult man and that he wasn't always easy to get along with. But he was still family, and she knew that Gwayne was right. They should show him more love and support.

"What about Alicent?" Daemyra shifted uncomfortably in her place. Gwayne noticed her discomfort and frowned at the mention of Alicent. "What about her?" He asked, his voice guarded. "She's my sister, but I feel no connection towards her. The only thing between us is a last name and blood."

Gwayne nodded slowly, his expression becoming thoughtful. "I understand what you mean," he said, his voice quiet. "Sometimes blood isn't enough to form a real connection." He paused for a moment, his brow furrowing in thought. "But just because you don't feel a strong bond with Alicent right now doesn't mean it can't come in time," he continued. "Maybe you just need to spend more time together and get to know each other better."

"I don't want to get to know her." Gwayne's expression hardened at her words, his eyes narrowing. "Why not?" He asked, his tone firm. "She's your sister." Daemyra shrugged, her eyes still avoiding Gwayne's gaze. "I just don't," she said, her voice low. "I don't feel any connection to her, and I don't want to put in the effort to form one." Gwayne's expression softened slightly, his anger giving way to understanding. "I see," he said, his voice a little more gentle now. "But don't you think you should at least try? You may be surprised at what happens if you do." Daemyra shook her head, her expression becoming more stubbornly closed off. "I don't see the point," she said, her voice becoming more defiant. "We may share a blood tie, but we're practically strangers. There's no reason for us to get to know each other better."

Otto approached them, carrying a blanket in his arms. He could sense the tension between Gwayne and Daemyra, and he was curious about the conversation they had been having. He placed the blanket gently around Daemyra's shoulders, his touch gentle and comforting. "There you go," he said, his voice soft. "You should wrap up before you catch a cold."

"Thank you, Father." Otto smiled faintly at her words, his expression becoming more affectionate. "You're welcome," he said, his voice warm. "I don't want you getting sick on my watch." He looked at Gwayne, noticing the tension between the siblings. "Is everything alright?" He asked, his voice laced with concern.

Gwayne nodded, his expression becoming more guarded again. "Yeah, everything's fine," he said, his voice a little too casual. Otto wasn't convinced. But he knew better than to press the issue. He turned his attention back to Daemyra, his expression becoming concerned once more. "You're still so pale," he said, his voice gentle. "Are you sure you should be out here?" Daemyra nodded, her expression a little more resolute. "I'm fine," she said, her voice a little stronger than before. "I just want to stay here for a while longer."

Gwayne looked like he wanted to protest, but he held his tongue. Otto glanced at him, noting his expression, before turning back to Daemyra. He wanted to argue with her to insist that she should go back inside and rest, but he knew that she was stubborn and would likely refuse. So instead, he nodded and sat down next to her, wrapping the blanket more snuggly around her shoulders.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, the only sound being the gentle rustle of the breeze through the trees. Otto kept a watchful eye on Daemyra, always wary of her fragile condition. He couldn't deny that she looked terrible. Her face was gaunt and pale, her eyes dull and sunken, her body trembling with exhaustion. He knew that she was pushing herself too hard, that she was trying to be strong despite her fragility. But he also knew that she was stubborn and that she would never admit that she needed to rest.

"Do you miss mother?" Otto's expression became somber at her words. His eyes fixed on the gravestone in front of them. "Of course I do," he said, his voice low. "Every day. I miss her more than you can imagine." He paused, his expression becoming lost in thought. "She was everything to me," he continued, his voice growing heavy with emotion. "She was my heart and soul, my everything. Losing her was like losing a part of myself." He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself against the wave of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. "I sometimes find myself wondering what it would be like if she were still here," he said, his voice quiet. "What kind of life we would have had together."

He looked at Daemyra, his expression a little sad. "But then I see you and your siblings, and I know that she's still here, in a way," he said, his voice gentle. "You carry a part of her inside you, in your eyes and your smile and your strength."

Daemyra smiled weakly at his words, touched by his sentiment. "Do you think she'd be proud of us?" She asked, her voice small and vulnerable. Otto smiled faintly, his expression becoming more affectionate. "I'm sure of it," he said, his voice firm. "She would be so proud of all of you, especially you. You're the spitting image of her, you know." Daemyra's smile widened, her eyes becoming watery with emotion. Otto could see the same fierce determination and stubbornness in her that her mother had, even if she didn't quite realize it yet.

"I wish Alicent was the one who died and not mother." Otto's eyes widened in surprise at her words, shocked by the harshness of her statement. "Daemyra, that's a terrible thing to say," he said, his voice firm. "Alicent is your sister." Daemyra met his gaze, her expression defiant. "I know," she said, her voice not losing any of its edge. "But I can't help it. I wish it was her instead of mother." Otto's expression became more stern, his tone more serious. "You shouldn't say things like that," he said, his voice firm. "It's not right. You should be grateful for what you have, not wishing for something that can't be changed."

"I apologize." Otto softened his expression a little, his tone becoming gentler. "It's alright," he said, his voice more reassuring. "Just remember that your mother would want you to love and support your siblings, not resent them." He looked at Gwayne, noticing the tense expression on his face. Gwayne was upset by Daemyra's words as well, but he held his tongue. Otto knew that he and Gwayne would need to have a private talk later.

But right now, his focus was on Daemyra. He wrapped the blanket more snuggly around her shoulders and put his arm around her, pulling her closer to his side. Otto watched her, his expression gentle and compassionate. He knew that she was still young and impulsive, but he also knew that she was hurting a lot. They sat in silence for a few moments, the only sound being the rustle of the leaves in the trees and Daemyra's fingers tracing her mother's name on the gravestone.

Kat talking

🫀| 001 : Hello!!!!!!

🫀| 002 : Idk if anyone noticed but I'm posting a chapter every Sunday.

🫀| 003 : I'm sorry for any big mistake.