NOVEL NEXT Chapter 34: Warmth
The moon hung high over Runestone as Daeron landed Acnologia in the castle courtyard. He dismounted silently, his mind a storm of thoughts.
The memory of his mother's letter lingered, an ache in his chest both tender and raw. His footsteps echoed through the stone halls as he climbed to his chambers.
Once inside, he locked the door and instructed his servants not to disturb him under any circumstances. He refused food, company, and counsel; tonight, he wanted solitude. The heavy door shut with a dull thud, sealing him in a cocoon of silence.
Daeron crossed the room to where his lute rested. It was a fine instrument, crafted with care, with its strings tuned to perfection. Sitting by the window, he took it in his hands and began to play.
The quiet hum of the harp's strings filled Daeron's chambers, weaving a melancholic melody that seemed to seep through the stone walls of Runestone.
Daeron played absentmindedly, his fingers tracing patterns on the instrument as his mind wrestled with the revelations of the day.
Saera Snow, his mother, had loved him deeply, and his father, Prince Aemon Targaryen had dreamed of a future for them. The weight of their sacrifices bore heavily on his heart.
At first, he tried to summon a cheerful tune, something light and frivolous to chase away the heaviness in his heart. But the notes that emerged were somber, mournful, and filled with longing.
His fingers moved instinctively, weaving a melody that seemed to pull from the depths of his soul. Time slipped away as he played, the music filling the chamber with an almost otherworldly sadness.
He didn't notice the knock at first, so absorbed was he in the music. But the second knock broke through his trance, jarring him. Frustration flared as he stood, setting the harp aside with more force than necessary.
He opened the door to find Rhea Royce standing there, her sharp gaze softened by a touch of curiosity.
"Lady Rhea," Daeron said curtly, "I instructed the servants not to disturb me."
Rhea stepped past him into the room, her stride casual and unfazed. Her eyes scanned the harp, the untouched tray of food, and finally landed on him. "They didn't," she replied smoothly.
"I'm here of my own accord. And I thought I made it clear I don't care much for rules. If I left you alone, the entire castle would be drowning in sorrow from the dirge you've been playing. What's happened to you, Daeron?"
Daeron sighed, his patience wearing thin. "It's nothing. I'm just not in the mood for company. Please, leave me be."
Rhea turned to face him, crossing her arms. "I'm not good at comforting people, if that's what you're worried about. But I'm not leaving until you talk to me. It's bad manners to keep your guests hungry and sad."
"I told you, there's nothing to talk about," Daeron retorted, his voice cold.
Her gaze narrowed, and she stepped closer. "Then don't talk to me as someone seeking comfort. Talk to me as a friend. Or did you lie before when you said you would be glad make friends with me? "
The word "friend" gave him pause. He sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Fine. I found out about my mother today. And my father. They loved me dearly , Rhea. For so long, I thought I'd been abandoned, forgotten, but I wasn't. To them, I wasn't an unwanted bastard,I was their joy, their hope, their pride . "
Rhea's expression softened. "And that hurts?"
Daeron nodded slowly. "It hurts because they're gone. Because I never had the chance to even know them. And because I've spent my whole life believing I wasn't enough for them to stay. I guess I'm not as smart as I thought I was."
For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then Rhea spoke, her voice quiet and steady. "My mother left me too, though not by choice. She died when I was young. I only have faint memories of her—her voice, her touch, the way she used to braid my hair.
After she was gone, it was just me and my duty as heir to Runestone. Everyone expected so much, but no one seemed to care how much it weighed on me."
Daeron glanced at her, surprised by the vulnerability in her tone.
"And then," Rhea continued, her lips curving into a bitter smile, "they married me off to a Targaryen prince who hates me. And I hate him just as much.
All I ever wanted was someone to stand by me, to see me as more than a burden or a stepping stone. Instead, I got Daemon. The rogue prince who hates me as much as I loathe him. A match made in the Seven Hells. I've long stopped expecting kindness from him. "
Daeron chuckled softly, the sound tinged with irony. "I bested your husband in a spar not long ago. The look on his face as he laid on the ground was priceless. "
Rhea raised an eyebrow, a genuine smile breaking through her bitterness. "You should be rewarded for that heroic act . What treasures do you seek oh brave prince?"
Daeron shrugged, " you getting out of here can be considered as a reward?"
Rhea chuckled and ignored his complaint. She spoke teasingly, " I'll consider it if you sing me a song." She gestured to his lute .
"I heard the story about the gentle prince who's song brought the maidens to tears. Let me hear it in person judge the truth ."
Daeron sighed and gave up. " Fine. But if you don't leave after that, I'm the one who will go out."
He thought for a while as he plucked the strings. What would be a good song in this situation ?
Then he remembered one song from the original tv show, which was quite sad and fit the moment. He started singing gently as the chords were struck with a somber melody.
High in the halls of the kings who are gone
Jenny would dance with her ghosts
The ones she had lost,
and the ones she had found
And the ones who had loved her the most
The ones who'd been gone for so very long
She couldn't remember their names
They spun her around on the damp old stones
Spun away all her sorrow and pain
And she never wanted to leave,
never wanted to leave
Never wanted to leave
They danced through the day
And into the night
through the snow that swept through the hall
From winter to summer then winter again
'Til the walls did crumble and fall
And she never wanted to leave,
never wanted to leave
Never wanted to leave,
Never wanted to leave….
High in the halls of the kings who are gone
Jenny would dance with her ghosts
The ones she had lost,
and the ones she had found
And the ones
Who had loved her the most...
Daeron softly played the strings as the song came to an end. Rhea quickly wiped a tear away and tried to play it off, " That was a lovely song Daeron. You're really talented as a bard. The stories are indeed true."
He smiled faintly but didn't reply, turning his gaze back to the window . "You've had your wish fulfilled, Rhea. You know what troubles me. Now, please, leave me to my thoughts."
Rhea hesitated, her smile fading. Her voice was softer now, almost hesitant. "Do you think I'm ugly and undesirable , Daeron? Unworthy of a prince ?"
Daeron turned to her, startled by the vulnerability in her question. He studied her for a moment before replying, his tone light but sincere. "You're easily among the top five most beautiful women I've ever seen . Definitely not ugly or unworthy."
She blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected compliment.
He smirked. "And you shouldn't pay attention to what dumbasses like your husband say. Any decent guy would be happy to marry a nice girl like you."
Rhea's laughter was quiet but genuine. As Daeron turned away, her expression shifted, growing more serious. She rose to her feet and took a step closer.
"Daeron," she said softly, her voice steady, "tonight, I need comfort too."
Her expression turned calm, almost resigned, and before Daeron could react, she cupped his face and pressed her lips to his. The kiss was passionate, clumsy , filled with unspoken emotions that made his heart skip a beat.
Startled, he stepped back, pushing her gently away. It was not a fleeting or tentative kiss but one filled with passion and longing.
Daeron spoke seriously, "Rhea, you're married, to a prince at that. Have you forgotten that?"
She met his gaze, her expression unwavering. "Daemon and I never consummated our marriage. He made it clear he had no interest in me. I have never been with a man, Daeron.
And tonight, I don't want to be the Lady of Runestone or the wife of a Targaryen prince. I just want to be seen as a woman. I want to be cared for, by you."
Her words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Daeron's resolve faltered as he searched her face, finding no deceit, only vulnerability.
There was a sadness in her gaze that mirrored the emptiness he had felt himself once. She wanted not just comfort but a connection, however fleeting, to stave off the loneliness that plagued them both.
"You don't even know me well enough," he said quietly.
"But I do know you," she replied, her voice soft but firm. "You're kind, strong, and honorable. More so than most men I've known. You've shown me more respect in these few days than Daemon ever has in his lifetime.
I won't hold you responsible, or bring it up again if you don't wish me to. Please, Daeron. I want this, just this once. All I ask is for you to look at me as a woman tonight."
He hesitated for a long moment before finally nodding. He stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
"You deserve more than this, Rhea. But if this is what you truly want... I'll give you what comfort I can."
Her answer was another kiss, tender at first, then deepening into something more. They moved together in a dance of passion and longing, seeking solace and warmth in each other's arms.
She cried out in joy as Daeron took her maidenhood, making her truly feel like a woman who is worthy of love. For that night, they shed the burdens of their titles and their pain, finding solace in a connection that neither had expected but both desperately needed.
For a moment, they were no longer the broken pieces of their respective lives but two souls finding refuge, however brief, in each other.
The stars outside their window bore silent witness to their union, a fleeting moment of warmth in a world often too cruel.
When dawn broke, the sunlight streaming through the curtains cast a golden glow over them. Rhea stirred in his arms, her head resting against his chest.
Neither spoke, but the silence was no longer heavy with sorrow—it was a truce, a moment of peace before they returned to the chaos of their worlds.