The flame of torches danced with the every move silver haired man made along the long corridor. Only they knew the secrets that these walls held. Piled up over centuries, having seen endless lords. Daemon Targaryen was furious, leaving his brother at the Iron Throne moments ago. Only he could protect his brother, him, not the insolent cunt, Otto.
He only wanted to be beside Viserys, instead the King expelled him, making him Commander of the City Watch, but what of it? Why not the Hand of the King? Instead he has been called The Rogue Prince. As if he did not have enough problems, this cunning woman, as he thought of you, appeared in his life, stirring his mind, rocking his world.
Insidious girl.
Guests of the King were residing at the Red Keep, it included Starks too. Every one of them had its own chambers, except for their parents, Lady and Lord Stark - they shared chambers.
"Why am I even doing this?" Pondering without a word to himself, the knight took a moment as he saw the chambers across the way. Casting a look up to his right at the dark sky saturated with twinkling stars, Daemon took in a deep breath of crisp air.
Approaching your chambers with the ready answer in his mind he raised his hand to knock. A subtle noise coming from your room stopping him from doing it. One second. He heard a scream. He frowned.
"Stop! Stop! Ah-s!" He spotted his sheathed sword immediately and was ready to burst in when he heard your scream again. Except it was not a scream. It was a moan.
In his peripherals Daemon caught himself staring at the door with lost expression on his face and looked back to the chambers' closest window. Peering in he saw two blurry figures but it took a harder look to see what stir was happening. He noticed your fully clothed figure in the window, you were seated on the middle of the bed, nothing out of ordinary. Except, you were sitting on something... or someone's face?
He swallowed thickly, torn between the thought of staying longer or walking out, after all it was not appropriate.
The voices were hard to grasp, but he spotted your voice.
"...such a good boy," You were now beside the man caressing his face, "But when I tell you to stop, you stop. Understood?"
You gripped his face and let go when the man answered with simple, "Yes, my lady."
A gesture reminded Daemon of the acquaintance in the woods. He took off in a sprint across the corridor as he bolstered his way past the narrow door frame.
He spent hours at the brothel, but even Mysaria did not help him. Could not help him. His mind was filled with you, he needed you morally and physically. Sitting there and drinking did not feel right, he feared he would drift off, and if he closed his eyes, he knew he would only envision you. He felt the need to breathe fresh air.
He thought that he would never let you know that he was there. Was it out of fear or respect? He came to a conclusion that it was both. Fearing a fragile woman? No, he only feared that it would scare you.
***
Day light sliding easily into twilight came sooner than expected for you. Happily noticing autumns drabble into shorter days, you knew you would regret leaving King's Landing soon, only knowing Winterfell's endless winter since you were born.
Returning from the woods with yet another successfully completed practice, you let yourself wander around the Red Keep. Its enormous halls led you deeper in to the castle, making you look around. If it weren't for the familiar door, you could have felt yourself lost. You took a few steps back, surprised to find the doors to the Iron Throne open slightly.
You sneakily entered the Great Hall, your eyes instantly capturing the Iron Throne, with its steep iron steps. The more you came closer, the more it seemed dangerous with its grandeur.
"Fascinating huh?" Bent down, propping his palms on his slightly bent knees, Daemon came out behind the throne.
You jumped up and made a squeak echoing down the hall, slightly cutting your finger on one of the blades of the throne.
"Prince Daemon." You turned to the voice, arms folded across your gown, you slowly walked in front of the throne. "Don't you have duties?"
Without a word Daemon turned and walked over to the iron throne, settling himself on the seat of thousand blades. He looked up from his seat at you still standing with folded arms right in front of him.
"I am keeping the seat warm for myself." He cocked a playful eyebrow over you.
"Oh, should we hope that the Queen deliver a boy then?" Provoking him with sly words you went down one step. Once again you drew out a genuine laugh out of him, like in the woods.
"What is it?" He yanked your hand, noticing the red patch that the cut of your finger left on your dress.
"I can handle it." You drew your hands away, but he stopped you.
"We need to bandage it." He looked up to you.
"I might start thinking that you like taking care of me." You brought your other hand to run over his silver hair.
"I might stark thinking that you like gripping my face whenever you have a chance."
"It is not my fault that you like it." The smirk that hid itself on your face now bloomed into a wide grin.
Eyes fixed on you, Daemon did not move until you retrieved your hand, "I never said that."
Somehow this woman, he thought, must have falsely been related to Targaryens with vexatious your words could become.
"Your eyes speak for yourself, dragon." You simply said.
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...
