Chapter Text
Daeron had a dream once.
A dragon of dark brown scales with silver streak on them had swallowed him whole. He had prepared to die even though he knew that it was all not real. Maybe it was. He had considered jumping off the highest tower of the Red Keep just moments ago.
My wife would be someone the court sees fit.
And of course, it wasn't Daeron.
Daeron the Drunken.
Daeron the Whore.
Daeron the Mad.
He knew that since they were pups.
Valarr would never call Daeron his.
He would never pronounce Daeron his consort upon their subjects, nor would he let Daeron carry the heir to the Iron Throne.
For all his love for Daeron, he would always choose the realm first.
That was why it felt so ridiculous that he cared enough to die that day.
Why did it suddenly matter?
The dragon had swallowed him whole.
Why was he never a dragon in one of these cursed dreams?
If he were maybe he would've been less scared.
Maybe he would've been brave.
Wasn't he, too, the blood of the dragon?
Daeron laughed when he realized Aerion’s favorite words had come out of his mouth.
They were siblings after all.
The inside of the dragon was warm, yet the surface he knelt on was stone cold.
His lower stomach was suddenly burning with pain and fire, like they would when his heat started.
Daeron screamed into the darkness.
Then there was a little light.
A sweet laughter.
So carefree and innocent.
He felt immediate comfort like nothing he ever felt before, fifteen years living in the wretched world.
Was it Dyanna?
Daeron couldn't remember her laughs anymore.
Or maybe The Stranger was kind enough to sooth his cowardly heart before taking him away.
But the laughter hadn't come from an outsider.
It was coming from inside him.
Daeron clutched his belly and screamed in agony as his stomach blew into dust and he fell apart.
Next thing he knew, he was laying on the grass, muds all over his face. The sun shined unforgivingly upon his aching body.
He remembered his dream, how the lower half of him had turned into nothing and he had laid bloody inside a dragon.
Daeron’s body shook and trembled before he opened his mouth and threw nothing but spit up. The stink and acid filled his mouth.
First thing that came to his mind once he gained strength was he needed to go back soon or his father would kill him, resurrect him with blood magic and kill him again.
As he tried to get up, he could feel the pain on his waist. His cunt throbbed a little as he remembered that Valarr had taken him four (or was it five?) times last night. It was to be the last night they ever spent in each other's arms and Daeron had let his cousin do whatever he pleased.
He had run away before Valarr could wake up.
Then the dream came upon him.
Daeron laughed like a mad man.
His cousin had made the right choice.
When he came back to the Keep where his family was to attend Valarr’s wedding, Maekar had him confined in his room after a good amount of whipping.
It was when the moonlight came through his window that Daeron realized he hadn't taken the tea.