The tournament went on just like the people of King's Landing anticipated - more blood, more food, more fights, more drinks. Ser Criston Cole's victory over Prince Daemon Targaryen was one melee to remember. Although you couldn't wait for the feast to begin.
Dusky, squalid, crummy, and nothing but dredges. Just like any other tavern in Winterfell you had seen in your years this one didn't surprise you by any means. The ball was promised to be held at the capital, but it was too crowded yet so you quietly slipped away to have a drink or two, hoping your family hadn't noticed your absence yet.
Seated back towards one of the only windows shining grimy rays of late afternoon sun into the filthy watering hole, you watched one man shoulder his friend down into one of the barstools. The friend looked behind at you and slowly made his way to you holding a horn of mead in his hand.
"Accept this drink, my lady." He seemed sober.
"Thank you, but I've already had one"
"Please," he looked pleadingly, "my lady."
You took the horn from his hands and raised the lip to your lips.
The man's subtle smile slowly disappeared as he saw Commander of the City Watch standing silently above you. He disappeared momentarily while you raised your eyes in confusion.
"Do you enjoy it when people beg you to do things?" A familiar voice came from behind you.
"I only like it when they beg." You threw back your thorn and drained the vase of every last drop of the frothy mead. You locked eyes with Daemon when he sat across from you placing his drink on the table, but you instantly looked away.
"You did not introduce yourself yesterday." He noticed you avoiding him.
"As if you do not know already", your smirk followed into full grin.
"I do not know your name." He said curiously.
"Y/n Stark, daughter of Rickon Stark - Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North."
Daemon squinted his eyes when he recalled something. "Youngest sister of the other two brothers."
You nodded placing the horn down. You purposely kept your gaze set forward, taking a little joy watching the two idiots that had offered you a drink bicker amongst each other.
Daemon took another draining slurp from his mead and let his eyes follow your line of sight over to the men.
"Alright, it's time to return to the King's Landing." He took the final sip before standing up.
"Have a safe journey!" You proclaimed nonchalantly.
"With you, Lady Stark."
"I'm a big girl, I know my way home."
"I don't think Lord Stark would appreciate that his only daughter is bothering herself at this vile place." He held out his hand.
"Is that a threat, Prince Daemon?" You stood up.
Blinking, Daemon broke his fixated gaze on you and let it wander around his surroundings. "A simple gesture of concern."
Nodding to yourself you traipsed out of the tavern with Daemon following behind. Simply passing him over, not answering or returning only with a smile, his eyes on you as he studied you. This went on the entire time you trekked back to the King's Landing.
***
Dished up on pristine silver plated was some of the most succulent meat you had seen in a long time. Saddled between your mother and brothers, you played with the hem of your soft lilac gown that you had chosen for the ball as your father was occupied with talks between the King Viserys I Targaryen and Lannister brothers.
"If you do not wish to listen to Father's repetitive phrases, just yank my hand and I will get you out of here." Cregan, your older brother, said leaning over your right ear.
"You are doing the Old Gods' work." You said hopefully, yanking his hand right away.
You stood on the side of the crowded hall, watching with bated breath as Cregan moved through a waltz with Alicent Hightower. He had officially declared his intentions to find a wife, and the girl with brown hair did not seem to be the worst option, although her father Otto Hightower struck you as rather an unpleasant man.
You were standing by the wall, your hands nursing a glass of the sweet lemonade that was served that night. You sipped the drink with your soft pink painted lips and observed the ball room carefully with gentle eyes that held a bit of mischief in them.
Knowing the likelihood of this evening ending in dissatisfaction of your mother in case you hadn't accepted any dance, you agreed to have one dance with Laenor Velaryon who sighed in awe when you had finally placed your hand on his for him to lead the dance.
The dance continued as the two of you circled around the hall passing along your partners. It is then you noticed a pair of light violet eyes catching your sight from one of the tables.
Every time Laenor and you made a slow circle with your hands behind, you noticed Daemon talking with his comrades, but occasionally boring his eyes into your back. The waltz came to a close and you bowed to each other.
Before you could separate, someone touched your arm lightly and extended his hand, "Can I have this dance, my lady?" Daemon asked, standing in his black attire. "Please."
You knew your parents saw it, almost every person in the hall stopped their doings just to see who the Rogue Prince chose for his dance.
"You may, my lord." You accepted his invitation with sly smile in your lips. Holding onto his broad shoulders, you followed along, harmonious melody echoing in your ears.
"You strike me as a cunning woman." Daemon said, leading you along into another set of steps you’d tried to memorize time and time again. He was effortless and in every way, that unignorable optimism set a fire beneath your feet.
"Is that so?" Smirking devilishly you carefully adjusted your leg. "I may take it as a compliment."
"Oh, it is a compliment." Extravagantly, you trotted around the perimeter of the hall together. Despite being terrified of tripping, you silently willed your feet to move and follow along to his lead.
"Be cautious, my lord. I will freeze your heart," you said, hands touching ever so slightly, like feather.
His hands held onto yours a little longer when you were supposed to catch up with others, dancing around them. "I will melt it with my fire. My lady."
"Your wife is lucky then." Lingering in your words Daemon did not want to answer. Answers he had none.
"A wife not of my choice." He shook his head with a heavy sigh. Opening his mouth Daemon instinctively was going to add something but pursued his lips while studying the woman standing in front of him.
The music luckily stopped. Weariness etched in your eyes it still did not take away from the arrogant air you gave off. Now standing like fools in the middle of the hall, none of it felt right.
YOU ARE READING
Ice around Fire (Daemon Targaryen x Stark!reader)
Fantasy"Be cautious, my lord. I will freeze your heart," she said, hands touching ever so slightly, like feather. His hands held onto her a little longer when they were supposed to catch up with others, dancing around them. "I will melt it with my fire. My...
