cardigan -taylor swift
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The next morning, Daenaera awoke on the bed. She was confused to how she got there, but one look towards Marcellus who was still sleeping in the chair in the corner and she knew he had moved her.
She didn't know what she did to warrant such kindness from a man who hardly knew her and she him. But she was still grateful that he had brought her to town as he promised.
Now...she had to go before she caused him anymore strife.
Her eyes softened at him briefly, before she stood up from the bed.
She quietly slipped on her shoes and cloak, giving Marcellus one last glance before heading for the door to leave.
Marcellus opened his eyes, having slept deeply that night, and was surprised when he opened his eyes to see her slip on her shoes.
He sat up and watched as she tip-toed to the door, and he realized then that he does not want her to leave, not even a bit.
"Where do you think you're going?" He called, the exhaustion in his voice apparent as he spoke, and he stood up from the chair and walked over to the door, blocking the way.
"Marcellus..." She blushed, looking away sheepishly. "...I just...was going to head out. Leave you be?"
He stared at her in shock. "Stay," he said abruptly as he looked at her again, a firm look on his face. "I want you to stay with me. I do not want you to leave so soon."
"I cannot simply stay with you," Daenaera said sadly. "You are a kind and honorable man, but, if anyone were to find out who I was..." Her words trailed off.
"Who you were?" His brow raised slightly, though his expression softened a bit as he realized the fear behind those words. "Are you worried of others finding out your title?"
He was unsure if she means if people found out her true identity that she'd be taken advantage of again, or if the prince would send men after her for abandoning him.
Daenaera bit her lip, staring down at her fingers as she fiddled with the laces at the front of her dress.
"I do not wish to see you hurt," She told him.
His eyes narrow slightly, and he looked down at her fingers where she picked the skin around the bed of her nails. He found this habit of hers to be endearing in some way. It's almost child-like, and he almost wants to take her hands in his own.
"I do not understand?" Though his face had softened considerably, his tone took on a firm quality. "Who would harm me?"
Daenaera's eyes lifted as she looked at him seriously and with worry. "Who else...?" She sighed. "You do not know Daemon. He is...a scary man," She said softly, almost like whispering it was too loud.
She remembered what he did to Jacaerys when he found out the boy wanted to offer his hand to her. He hurt him.
She remembered when she was to wed her brother. He brought Caraxes and destroyed the Sept.
Daemon saw her as his, and he wouldn't give that up so easily. She had no idea what Daemon would do to Marcellus. But the thought worried her.
Marcellus was quiet, the mention of his name bringing fury into his eyes. He clenched his fists, his jaw stiffened at the mention.
"You are afraid of him."
He stared at her for a few moments, and then, he stepped forward and placed his hands on her upper arms.
No, she thought, I'm afraid for you.
She looked at him sadly. "It is better this way. If I leave, I can find Moonheart and fly away a thousand leagues from Daemon," She whispered.
"The prince does not own you," He responded back, his fingers tightening as he speaks. It's clear he does not want to let her leave. "His hold over you is finished." He's looking at her, and his voice softened slightly. "Do you understand?"
Daenaera looked down, solemn and quiet.
His thumbs rubbed circles around her arms. His voice took on a firmer tone again. "Look at me," he ordered, raising one hand to gently tilt her face upwards.
Her eyes met his.
Once they locked eyes again, he does not look away. "I will protect you from him. You do not need to leave," He said this with firmness, but also warmth. Marcellus' hand dropped down, and he took a step forward to put his body closer to hers. "No one will hurt you whilst you are under my protection, princess."
Her eyes watered, and she looked down at his chest. Her lips quivering.
"I want to go home," She admitted brokenheartedly, voice cracking. "I want my mother, my sweet sister Helaena, and my brothers..." She sucked in a breath. "...Aemond, most of all."
"Then I shall take you home," He responded firmly. "I swear it."
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"I loved Daenaera, I did," Daemon confessed. His words flowing in the wind. "She broke my heart. I loved her. She was the only one for me. I would have wed her. She alone made me want to be a better man. I loved how she smelled. The sweet perfume that she always wore. I have never known such a pleasure as to lay with Daenaera. To be at one with her flesh."
His words continued with such heavenly bliss.
"Her kisses were like honey on my lips. She took my hand, and she led me down a path that I was reluctant to follow. When I was in her bed I understood. I would give her all of me." His eyes closed. "She told me things. In the soft tones of her voice, in the way she ran her fingers through my hair, she told me her desires. And I wanted nothing but to please her. To hear the sound of her breathing. The words of her panting. My only fear was that when the pleasure was over I would no longer be enough for her."
"I never felt that I was worthy of her. She was too beautiful. Too perfect. And every time I was with her I wondered, Am I pleasing her enough? Is there a man in the world, in whole of Westeros who could satisfy her more than me?"
He chuckled to himself, smiling softly.
"I knew I would never want another woman after her. I would have been her lover and her husband, in time. I only wanted to be with her. Our child would have been made of unparalleled beauty and stature. I would have wed her one day and taken her to my bedchambers that night and every night after it. I would have held her. Kissed her. I would have kept her safe and warm inside my arms."
His eyes opened, soft for a few moments.
"My every word was an oath that I broke. I betrayed her. I lost my love. She was the light of my life and I did not know how to hold that precious fire in my hands," He finished.
With all that said and down, he turned to the Lady of Whispers—Mysaria, the White Wyrm, and stared at her with a hardened gaze.
He knew of her talents. They were as renowned as his.
He was confined to his chambers for only one more day, until he was said to be exiled to Dragonstone. For good, this time.
He would never touch the mainland again, or it would be his head—those were Viserys' words.
His brother was so weak...
But none of that mattered for now.
Mysaria stared at Daemon, her feline gaze and clenched jaw showing much of what she thought of this all. She cared little for it, but he had paid her good coin just for information.
"Her dragon, Moonheart, has been seen hunting the sheep in the mountains at the edge of the Vale," She told him, her accent thick. "But the Princess is said not to be on dragon-back."
Daemon closed his pale eyes. He tried to keep his temper.
He thought of his lost betrothed. Of her soft lips and sweet perfume. Of the scent of her skin against his own. Of the way she called his name.
"Find her and bring her to me," He commanded.
Mysaria gave him a frown. "It is not so easy—"
Daemon turned to her abruptly. His hands clenched into fists and his voice turned cold. "Make it so," He growled.
"She could be anywhere in the Realm by now," Mysaria said angrily. "You know better than anyone that all over the world, men and women hurt pretty, little girls like her. If she is not with her dragon, there is no telling what's happened to her."
"I would burn the world for a chance to lay with her again. I would tear down heaven and kill the seven themselves if that is what it took to have her at my side once more. I am not asking you to go fetch her, I am telling you to do whatever is necessary to bring her back to my side. I will never ask you for anything ever again, but I ask you this. Find. Her," Daemon demanded with intensity. He stepped toward her, but she did not cower as he towered her. His pale violet eyes boring into hers. "Do not keep me waiting."
While he walked back out to the balcony, Mysaria stared at his back with a grim look. She bit back her tongue as she turned, and walked away.
She would have to sell and buy a few whispers for this endeavor.
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Daenaera and Marcellus went out into the village to gather supplies for their journey.
He told her it would be a two weeks journey to King's Landing by the King's Road if they traveled by horse.
She did not know what to make of this unexpected adventure she found herself on, but nonetheless, she was amply following along with him. He promised to protect her and she trusted him to keep his word.
Through the Market Square, Daenaera held onto the back of Marcellus' cloak as they walked. Her eyes all around with amazement and wonder at all the stalls and travelers.
He glanced at her every now and again, looking down at her fingers curled up to his cloak. They are soft and delicate, and she is a princess, to be treated like one. His steps were deliberate and purposeful, and he looked around at the travelers they pass. They have a long way to go, and he would be sure she got there safely.
Until then, there was no reason she couldn't get to know him.
"You're not a Lord," Daenaera brought up as they walked. "When you saved me, you said so yourself. Tell me, what do you do?"
He's silent for a few moments, his steps never stopping as they made their way down the path.
"I am...a sellsword," Marcellus replied eventually, his eyes settling on her as she walked behind him.
"A sellsword?" She asked, a bit surprised at such an occupation, especially for an honorable man such as himself. "Whom do you give your services to?"
"When I am not out saving princesses, I am giving my services to whoever pays most," He replied, and she might feel his words are a bit cold. "I have no home, no family, no place to call mine. I travel from place to place...selling my sword to whoever needs it."
She furrowed her brows, listening well. "But...aren't sell-swords usually thugs and bad men?" She questioned, curious. "My Septa told me so."
"That is what people believe," He replied, and now his tone is not quite as cold. It's apparent he's not angry at her, but that the subject itself makes his emotions flare. "For what else can I do? All I am good at is fighting. What else am I supposed to do when I was refused knighthood? No one would hire me as a bodyguard, or to protect them, simply because of my lack of title. What else am I supposed to do but be a so-called 'thug'?"
She looked at his questioningly. "You were not allowed to become a knight?" She raised a brow. "Are you a bastard?"
He chuckled darkly at her innocent question, and she felt his body relax a bit. "Yes," he sighed. "I am a bastard. My last name is Stone. And that has affected many things in my life."
"Ah..." Daenaera thought for a few moments, before smiling sweetly. "...I can talk to my father, the King. He would knight you if I asked, I think."
He paused altogether, thinking on her words. Turning to her, shocked and disbelief. "Really?" He looked down at her, wondering if she is teasing him, or if this is actually something she means.
She smiled, nodding.
"Of course. You saved me," She said as though it were obvious. "You've clothed me, fed me, kept me safe. You've never touched me. You have shown me more kindness than...well, more than anyone had really..." She stopped walking to really look at him gratefully. "...You are an honorable man, Marcellus. I believe you would make a fine knight."
The way he looked at her in that moment was perhaps the sweetest thing she had ever known. It was like he was unsure but also really looking at her for the first time.
"That is a generous offer, my princess," he responded, his voice soft and steady. "But, would your father truly knight me? Would he not just scoff at the idea?"
Daenaera thought for a moment. "If not him, my mother would talk to him. She is the Queen, and he listens to her. And she listens to me..." She explained, looking down with a soft smile. "...My mother can be much, but she loves me dearly."
The corner of his lips twitch. "Your family must adore you very much." She can hear the warmth in his voice. "Are you certain, though? You would really go and ask your mother and father to have me knighted?"
She giggled, taking his arm and pulling him along the Market. "My word is my honor," She told him. "I swear it to you."
He laughed slightly, a bit amused at how quickly she pulled him along.
And as she pulled him along, pointing out this or that, Marcellus stared at her when she wasn't looking. A soft smile playing on his lips with endearment and adoration.
She was...a sweet and gentle soul.
She is so pure and happy. She has not been tainted by the world's harshness. She is so different from the people he's come to know... she's unique.
Marcellus glanced away briefly, thinking about his time thus far with her. And he likes this. He likes it very much.
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thoughts?