𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑅𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓇

In the dead of the night, while Daemyra was indulging in her reading, she caught a movement in the shadows of her door. Her eyes focused on the figure to find Aemond standing there, his tall frame silhouetted against the dim moonlight casting through the windows.

"What are you doing here? It's late." Aemond stepped further into the room, closing the door gently behind him.

"I couldn't sleep," he admitted in a low voice. His lone eye was fixed steadfastly on her, the fire from the nearby fireplace casting moving shadows across his angular face. Aemond walked over to the bed and sat down beside her, the mattress shifting under his weight. He looked at the book she was reading, his gaze falling upon the text without seeming to actually read it. It was almost as if he was using it as an excuse to remain close to her, not wanting to say what was really on his mind.

He felt her slender arms wrap around him. He slowly melted into her embrace. His head rested against her chest, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat filling the silence that had settled between them.

Gradually, his own arms encircled her, his grip on her firm but tender. He closed his eye, his face now buried in her hair, inhaling deeply of her scent.

They sat like that for a moment, neither saying a word. The only sound in the room was the crackling of the fireplace and the beating of their combined hearts. Aemond turned his face, letting his chin rest against her chest so that he could look up at her. Her eyes were still on the book, but he could see the hint of a smile at the corners of her lips.

He reached a hand up, his fingers trailing lazily along her jawline. The pads of his fingers were a soft touch against her skin, tracing the contour of her face as if he were mapping out the stars. He caught a stray lock of hair near her forehead and twirled it around his finger, allowing it to brush against her cheek, which was now tinged with the faintest pink hue.

His gaze was fixed on her face, his eye studying every minute detail. It was almost as if he was trying to memorize every aspect of her, from the way her eyelashes fanned against her cheeks when she blinked, to the way her lips parted slightly as she breathed.

"What's wrong?" Aemond's eye widened as if he had been caught in the act of something. He let out a long exhale, his breath warm against her skin.

"Nothing, really," he murmured, his fingers continuing their gentle stroking along her jawline. "I just couldn't sleep, like I said."

"Do you want me to read to you?" Aemond looked up at her again, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"That would be nice," he said quietly. He shifted on the bed, moving to lie down next to her. His head found a comfortable place resting on her stomach, one of his arms wrapping around her waist.

She opened her book, her voice quietly filling the room. Every so often, she would feel the brush of Aemond's hair against her chin or the feel of his fingers tracing invisible patterns on her hip where her nightgown had ridden up. He didn't say a word as she read, but his presence was a warm, solid weight against her body.

He was content to listen to her voice, the sound of her words washing over him like a soothing tide. Gradually, the tension in his body started to ease, and his breathing became slower, more even. Before long, his steady puffs of breath against her stomach signaled that he had fallen asleep.

She silently closed her book, her attention now fully focused on Aemond. With gentle, careful motions, she reached out and began to unfasten the eyepatch around his eye. As she did so, she let her fingers brush lightly over his temple, the skin there taut but smooth.

When the eyepatch was loose, she slowly removed it, taking in the sight of the blue gemstone embedded in his empty socket. She leaned down and pressed a light kiss on his forehead, her lips barely touching his skin. She then adjusted his head so that it was resting more comfortably against her, and then carefully smoothed his hair away from his face. He mumbled something softly in his sleep, his arm around her waist pulling her closer to him.

She smiled at the sight of him, his features relaxed, his mouth slightly open as he breathed in deep, even breaths. Her hand came up to brush a few stray strands of hair away from his face, her thumb tracing a line across his cheekbone.

"Sleep well," Aemond mumbled something incomprehensible in response, but his grip on her waist tightened, drawing her closer to him. He shifted slightly, burying his face into her chest, his soft puffs of breath against her skin as he slumbered.

She smiled and continued to stroke his hair, occasionally letting her other hand drift across his back, rubbing lazy circles across his shoulder blades. She took in the feel of his body pressed against hers, warm and solid and a little heavy but strangely comforting.

She felt her eyelids grow heavy, the sound of his steady breathing and the lull of the fire casting a drowsy spell over her. Her hand in his hair dropped down to rest on his arm, her eyes slowly closing as sleep finally pulled her under.

Aemond shot awake with a gasp, his body instantly alert. The first thing he noticed was that the room was still dark, the moonlight streaming in through the window just a tiny fraction stronger than it had been before. He heard and felt something shudder beside him, and it took his sleep-addled brain a moment to realize that it was Daemyra.

He propped himself up on one elbow to better look at her, and his stomach clenched at what he saw. Her whole body was trembling, sweat beading on her forehead. She was mumbling something unintelligible words spilling from her lips in a ragged, broken whisper. He shifted so he was hovering over her, his hand coming up to rest on her forehead. Her skin was warm, almost bordering on hot.

"Daemyra." He called out her name softly, not wanting to startle her and yet at the same time feeling a desperate need to wake her from whatever nightmare she was having. His hand moved from her forehead to her cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheekbone.

"Daemyra," he repeated, his voice a bit more firm this time. He gently shook her shoulder, trying to rouse her from her fitful sleep. She tossed her head from side to side, her body arching off the bed as another shudder wracked her body.

He cursed under his breath and shifted even closer to her, his other hand coming up to hold her other shoulder, his grip firm. "Wake up," he commanded, giving her a slight shake. "Open your eyes." Her eyes fluttered open, but they didn't immediately focus on him. She was looking past him, her eyes unfocused, filled with terror. The fear on her face made his heart lurch in his chest. He gave her shoulders another firm shake, his voice now a low, urgent command.

"Look at me," he ordered, his voice gravelly. "Focus on me." He shifted even closer, moving so his face was now level with hers. Slowly, her eyes began to focus on him, her pupils dilating as they began to register his presence. Aemond watched as Daemyra practically leaped from the bed and rushed to the window. The movement was so quick and sudden that he was briefly left stunned, his eye still adjusting to the darkness and the sudden absence of her warmth.

He heard her fling the window open, the night air rushing into the room. She took a deep, ragged breath as she leaned against the windowsill, letting the cool air wash over her fevered skin. Her thin nightgown billowed around her in the breeze, the pale fabric almost appearing luminescent in the moonlight. He could see her shoulders trembling as she continued to take gasping breaths, her head ducked down so her hair fell over her face, hiding her expression from him.

Aemond watched as her hand came up to her mouth, her teeth worrying at the tips of her fingers. Even from where he was sitting in the bed, he could vividly see the bite marks on her skin, some of them still fresh from earlier.

He knew that she had a bad habit of biting her nails, especially when she was anxious or distressed. Aemond swung his legs off the bed, moving towards her. He wanted to grab her and pull her hands away from her mouth, but he settled for placing his palm on her back instead, hoping that his touch would give her some comfort.

"Don't touch me!" He flinched, startled by the sharpness in her tone. He took a half step back, his hand dropping from her back, feeling the loss of her heat against his fingers. He looked at her, his eye taking in the rigid line of her shoulders, her back still towards him, her breath still coming in quick, ragged pants. "I'm a sinner."

Aemond was taken aback by her words. He had not expected that. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice low. He took a step back towards her and placed a hand on her shoulder, gently trying to turn her around so he could see her face.

She resisted for a moment, but then relented, allowing him to turn her. When she finally turned to face him, he sucked in a breath. Her face was pale, almost as white as the nightgown she was wearing. There was still a hint of sweat on her brow, and a few strands of hair were plastered to her forehead. "You're not a sinner," he said, his voice gentle. He raised a hand and brushed some of the wet hair away from her forehead, his fingers lingering against her temple.

"I am!" Aemond's fingers stilled, his palm now cupping the side of her face. He felt the muscles in her jaw flex under his touch.

"Then so am I," he replied, his gaze unflinching on hers. "We've all sinned."

"You don't get it! The gods are punishing me with these visions!" Aemond felt an icy shiver run up his spine. Visions. His thoughts flashed to the Targaryen family history, the whispers about their blood being touched by magic, of dragon dreams and prophecies. He looked at her, his hand still on her cheek.

"What visions?" he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper. She was breathing heavily. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. Her eyes were wide, filled with panic and fear. "The same nightmare," she whispered, her voice tremulous. "Again and again, night after night."

Aemond's grip on her face tightened slightly, his thumb gently caressing her skin. "Tell me about it," he said, his voice firm but gentle, attempting to instill some calm in her. She shook her head again, more violently this time, her hair swaying around her face like a curtain of auburn silk. "I can't." Her voice was small, almost childlike, filled with fear. Her hands clutched at the front of her nightgown, her knuckles white from the force of her grip.

Aemond took a step closer, closing the short distance between them. He could hear her ragged breaths, the harsh gasps as she tried to control her emotions. He brought his other hand up to cup the other side of her face, now effectively trapping her between his palms. "Don't touch me, Aemond. I'm not good. I'll ruin you with these thoughts."

Aemond ignored her protestations, his hands remaining firmly on her cheeks. "You won't ruin me," he said, his eye fixed on hers. "And even if you did, I would gladly let you."

"You don't understand." She was trying to pull her head away from his touch, but it was ineffectual. His grip on her face was gentle but firm, his fingers pressing into her flesh. "These visions... they are filled with darkness. Death, decay, and destruction."

"I don't care," he said firmly. He leaned closer, bringing his face so close to hers that their noses were almost touching, his breath warm against her skin. "I don't care about the visions. I don't care about the darkness. All I care about is you."

"I want to go back to sleep." He studied her face for a moment, taking note of the exhaustion in her eyes, the way her whole body seemed to sag as if the weight of her thoughts was too much to bear.

Slowly, he pulled his hands away from her face but immediately wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his chest. He held her tightly, his arms encircling her slender frame like a protective shield. She rested her head against him, her body slumping against his. He could feel her heart beating, the rapid thumps against his chest a testament to the terror that still roiled within her.

"Let's go back to bed." He said, his voice softly spoken into her hair. His hands ran up and down her back in a soothing motion, feeling the tension in her muscles gradually loosen under his touch. He slowly guided her back to the bed, gently sitting her down on the edge before he slid in beside her. He pulled her back against him, his arm winding around her middle as he spooned her from behind.

"Close your eyes," he whispered into her ear. He felt her shudder against him, but she obeyed, her eyelids fluttering shut. Carefully, he slid one arm under her neck, the other still around her waist, his body curving around hers, enveloping her in a cocoon of warmth and security.

He felt her shift until she was settled more comfortably against him, her body fitting seamlessly against his. He brought his face to the crook of her neck, inhaling the scent of her skin and hair. "Sleep," he murmured, his lips brushing against her pulse point. "You're safe."

Aemond held her close as she slowly relaxed into the embrace of sleep. Her breathing evened out, her body going slack against his. He could feel the steady rise and fall of her chest, the warmth of her skin, and the soft puff of her breath against his arm.

Slowly, his own eyelid began to droop, the weariness of the night finally catching up with him. He nestled closer to her, his arm pulling her tighter against him, and he too drifted into the comforting embrace of sleep.

Aemond woke with a start, his eye snapping open. It took him a few seconds to orientate himself, but when his gaze settled on the empty spot next to him, he was instantly wide awake. He frowned in confusion, his hand feeling the cool sheets where Daemyra should have been. He sat up in bed, his mind racing with possibilities. He scanned the room, but it was bathed in shadows, the only light coming from a sliver of moonbeams that crept in through a crack in the curtains. He listened for any indication of her presence, but the only sound he could hear was the faint whispering of the wind outside.

"Daemyra?" he called out, his voice low and quiet. There was no response, only the sound of his own breathing and the pounding of his heart. He threw off the covers and swung his legs off the bed, the plush carpet under his feet muting the sound of his footsteps as he padded across the room.

He checked the wardrobe and the adjoining bathroom, but there was no sign of her. Frustration gnawed at him as he searched the room, every inch of it. He felt a prickle of dread running down his spine at the notion of her gone missing in the dead of night.

"Daemyra!" he called out again, louder this time, the panic in his voice becoming increasingly obvious. He checked under the bed and even behind the curtains, but she was nowhere to be found.

His mind raced with a thousand scenarios, each one more terrifying than the last. Had she gone out alone? Was she hurt somewhere? The thought of her being in danger shot a spike of fear through him like a lance, fueling his already heightened level of alarm.

Aemond grabbed the nearest piece of fabric he could find, a discarded cloak lying on a chair, and hastily flung it around his shoulders. He didn't care that he was only clad in a thin nightshirt, his state of semi-dress the last thing on his mind. All he knew was that he needed to find her, and quickly.

He left her chambers and stalked through the dimly lit corridors, his heart hammering against his chest. The Keep was eerily quiet at this hour, the only sound being the soft hush of his footsteps and the distant hoot of an owl outside. He tried to control his breathing, to maintain a facade of calm, but the worry gnawing at him made it near impossible.

Aemond walked through the Keep, checking every room, every nook, and cranny, her name echoed on his lips like a prayer. The search proved fruitless, and his worry only intensified. On a whim, he decided to check outside, and that's when he saw it. Footprints leading towards the forest. Dread pooled in his stomach as he studied the impressions on the ground. They looked fresh, still crisp on the damp earth. Without a second thought, he followed the trail leading into the thicket, his strides purposeful and determined.

The trees loomed over him like giant sentinels, their dark branches creating an almost impenetrable barrier, the foliage dense and wild. The moon was shrouded by the thick cloud cover, making the forest even darker and menacing. Aemond pushed forward, his eye straining to follow the trail of flattened grass and kicked-up dirt.

The trail of footsteps abruptly ended at a small, placid lake. The surface of the water was like a mirror, the moon reflecting off it in a dazzling array of silvery shards. Aemond looked around, his eye scanning the area for any sign of Daemyra. He called out her name, his voice echoing off the trees and across the still waters. The call went unanswered, only the rustling of leaves and the occasional croak of a frog breaking the silence. Frustration and fear swirled together in his chest, making his heart pound.

Aemond's gaze was drawn to the center of the lake where the water was disturbed, a constant stream of bubbles breaking the surface. His heart skipped a beat as realization dawned on him. Someone was underwater. He pushed forward, his body slowly sinking deeper into the lake, the water now reaching up to his chest. The cold was seeping into his bones, but he pushed through it, his mind solely focused on saving Daemyra.

"Daemyra!" he called out again, his voice now coming out in ragged gasps as he pushed further into the water. Every second felt like an eternity as he struggled forward, the cold water trying to suck him under. He reached the spot where he saw the bubbles, the water now up to his neck. He took a deep breath, preparing himself for what he might find. He dove underwater, his eye open to penetrate the murky depths.

The first thing he saw was a shock of auburn hair, like a halo around a pale face. His heart seized in his chest as he took in the sight of Daemyra, her body motionless and floating serenely in the water.

Aemond felt a pang in his chest as he noticed the eyepatch clutched in her limp hand. She was clutching it so tightly that her knuckles were white. As he got closer, he saw something that made his breath hitch in his throat. There was a fresh, bleeding scar on her eye, almost identical in placement to his own. He quickly swam to her and brought her out of the water, holding her limp body against his chest. The cold of her skin seemed to soak into him, freezing his very soul. He clutched her to him, trying to infuse her with some of his own warmth, his hands moving over her face, trying to wipe the blood away from the new scar on her eye.

"Daemyra," he whispered, his voice catching in his throat. "Please, wake up." He placed a hand on her cheek, his thumb rubbing against her cold, wet skin. "Please don't do this to me." He brought her face against his chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat a counterpoint to her deathly stillness. He ran his fingers through her wet hair, his touch frantic and desperate. "Please," he muttered again, his voice a hoarse whisper, "Please don't leave me."

Aemond laid her gently on the ground, placing her on her back. His hands moved to her chest, each press of the heels of his palms against her sternum an act of desperation. He repeated the motion in a steady rhythm, pressing down hard in an attempt to force the water from her lungs. After several minutes of compression, Aemond felt her body suddenly convulse as water burst from her lips in a violent rush. He rolled her onto her side, allowing more water to spill from her mouth as she coughed and retched.

He supported her, one hand under her head to prevent it from hitting the ground, the other stroking her hair as she struggled to breathe. Water continued to dribble from her lips, her body shuddering with each cough and gasp.

"My eye... it hurts." Aemond's heart ached at her words. Her voice sounded so weak, so vulnerable, like that of a child. He shifted his position so he was kneeling beside her, his hands still supporting her as she leaned against him. He gently wiped some of the hair away from her forehead, noticing the new scar on her eye once again.

"I know," he murmured, his voice tender and soothing. "It's alright." He reached out, his fingers gingerly tracing the edge of the fresh wound, his touch light and delicate. "What happened?" he asked, his gaze fixed on the angry, red line marring her skin. She brought her own hand to her eye, her fingertips gently tracing the still-sensitive scar. "I don't know," she mumbled, her voice still raspy from coughing. Her words were slightly slurred, a testament to the trauma her body had just undergone. "I'm cold."

Aemond immediately encircled her in his arms, pulling her close to him. She was shivering violently, her teeth chattering, her skin cold to the touch. "I know," he said again, his arms wrapping around her slender frame, trying to impart some warmth to her.

One moment she was in his arms, shivering and disoriented, and the next she went limp, her body slumping against his. He felt panic well up within him. "Daemyra?" he called out, his voice shaking slightly. Aemond scooped her body into his arms, the slim line of her form looking strangely fragile in his embrace. He quickly wrapped his cloak around her, the thick material enveloping her like a cocoon. Without a second thought, he turned and sprinted towards the Keep, his heart pounding in his chest.

He ran as fast as his legs would carry him, the cold wind biting at his skin, but he barely felt it. His sole focus was on the woman in his arms, her head lolling against his chest, her breaths coming out in uneven gasps. He finally reached the Red Keep, the entrance looming before him like a port in the storm. He charged through the corridors, his footsteps an echo against the stone walls. Servants and guards stared at him as he passed, their expressions a mixture of surprise and concern at the sight of him carrying the unconscious Princess.

He pushed open the door to the maester's chamber with such force that it banged against the wall. The room was dimly lit, the only source of light was a few candles on the desk. The maester looked up at his sudden entrance, his surprise quickly replaced by concern when he saw the limp form in Aemond's arms. "What happened?" the maester inquired as Aemond laid Daemyra on a bed. He quickly began to examine her, his hands moving deftly, checking her pulse and her breathing.

Aemond stood back, his hands clenching in fists at his sides. "I found her at the lake," he said, his voice tight with worry. "She was drowning. She has a new scar on her left eye. She said she doesn't know where it came from."

The maester's brow furrowed in concentration as he gently palpated the skin around the fresh scar. He hummed in thought before replying, "It looks like it's self-inflicted."

"What do you mean, self-inflicted?" Aemond asked, his voice betraying his confusion. He stared down at Daemyra's prone form, the mere thought of her hurting herself enough to make him feel nauseous.

"It appears," the maester said, his fingers still gently tracing the edge of the scar, "That she made this mark herself. The skin is too raw, the cut much too clean for it to have been inflicted by someone else."

Aemond felt a cold wash of dread run down his spine. The idea of her harming herself, of causing herself such pain and damage, was almost too much to bear. "She wouldn't do something like that." The maester gave him a pointed look. "Your Grace," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "People often do irrational things when they are under stress or emotional turmoil. It is not uncommon for people to inflict injury upon themselves as a form of escape or even punishment."

Kat talking

🫀| 001 : Hello!!!!!!

🫀| 002 : They were too happy for my liking

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