Game of thrones: A storm is coming

** I really don't know what came over me as I wrote this. By the time I finished, I was dumbfounded as I read what I wrote as it wasn't what I planned to write xD. Anyways, enjoy the chapter. **

The air in the Red Keep was cool and heavy with the sorrow of recent days, yet in one of its private corridors, life stirred with a different, quieter urgency. Daeron had long since decided that his future lay beyond the treacherous politics of King's Landing. With his departure imminent, he now prepared to leave the realm that had become a battleground of grief and ambition.

In a small chamber lined with worn tapestries and flickering candles, Daeron sat on a carved wooden chair. His few belongings—simple tunics, a weathered journal, and a sturdy leather satchel—were neatly arranged on a small table. Outside, the distant echoes of the tourney had long since faded into a melancholy memory. Today, his mind was focused solely on his journey ahead.

His elder sister, Rhaenys Velaryon, was busy gathering his stuff neatly. Her dark eyes softened as she took in the sight of her brother, his silver hair tousled and his expression pensive. Rhaenys, ever the caregiver despite her own burdens, approached him with gentle purpose.

"Daeron," she said softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face. "I've finished packing your things. Everything is in order for your departure."

He managed a tired smile. "Thank you, Sister. Your help means more to me than words can say."

Rhaenys settled herself beside him, careful not to disturb the modest pile of belongings. For a long moment, they sat in silence, the only sound being the soft crackle of a distant fire. Finally, she spoke in a hushed tone.

"Tell me, brother, what exactly transpired with Rhaenyra—and why did King Viserys send you away?"

Daeron sighed deeply, his gaze drifting to the dim light through a narrow window. "It was all a facade, I suppose. The king needed a scapegoat—a way to placate the court, to offer a simple explanation for the chaos. They say I was too closely involved with Rhaenyra after her mother's death. But, truly, I only comforted her in her moment of despair. I helped her when she had no one else to turn to. And because I was already planning to leave anyway, we both decided it was best if I removed myself from the turbulent scene. Don't hold a grudge against him."

Rhaenys's eyes searched his face as she spoke. "It almost seems like you helped him avoid more trouble. But tell me, Daeron—this act of service... it seems to hint that you have a certain fondness for him. Is that so?"

Daeron laughed softly, a bittersweet sound that mingled with the sorrow in his heart. "Fondness? For a king? Viserys is a kind man, in his own flawed way. I suppose he's not as terrible as he might be. In truth, he is the sort of man who would have been far happier as a scholar or even a poet—someone whose days were not spent in endless warfare and plotting. He's been burdened with the crown for too long, and maybe that is why I helped him so readily. But I assure you, my reasons are not born of just personal affection. It is merely a practical choice—to ease the strain on the court as I prepare to leave."

Rhaenys nodded thoughtfully. "And where will you go next?"

"I plan to travel first to Runestone," Daeron replied, his tone measured and calm. "Then I shall make my way to Winterfell to see the North, and finally, to Casterly Rock. I must visit all the major realms before I depart for Essos and join the fight in the Stepstones."

Rhaenys raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "And you have no… entanglements there? Nothing scandalous with Daemon's wife, perhaps?"

Daeron chuckled, shaking his head. "No, nothing of the sort. In fact, she is no longer Daemon's wife—Viserys annulled that marriage some time ago. Although we like and care for each other, We both know there is no future there. We remain good friends, but there is nothing more between us."

Rhaenys gasped audibly and, with a playful glint in her eyes, grabbed his collar. Leaning in close, she whispered, "Never say that loudly again, Daeron. You know well how dangerous such words can be in these halls. And really, you slept with a woman nearly twice your age, didn't you? I wonder how many more hearts you've stolen."

Daeron pulled back with an exasperated laugh. "You're acting as if I am a common criminal, Rhaenys. I merely appreciate the kindness of those who understand me."

Before the conversation could proceed further, a gentle knock at the door interrupted them. Rhaenys glanced toward the entrance and muttered under her breath, "Even the enemy's daughter isn't spared from your charms."

Daeron looked up to the entrance to reveal Alicent, trembling slightly as she entered the room. Her eyes were red from crying, and her usual composed demeanor was replaced with raw vulnerability.

Rhaenys chuckled softly as she observed the scene, then excused herself with a teasing smile. "I must leave you two to talk, dear brother. I hope you can sort out your confusions before the day grows long."

Once Rhaenys had departed, Daeron turned his attention to Alicent. "Alicent, what brings you here? Your father ensured that I would be leaving soon. Is there a message you wish to deliver?"

Alicent hesitated, her hands twisting in the folds of her dress. Then, in a sudden burst of emotion, she rushed forward and threw herself into Daeron's arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Daeron… please, do not look at me as a stranger," she pleaded between tears. "I—I cannot bear to remain here any longer."

Daeron was taken aback. He held her tightly, his voice soft with concern. "Alicent, what has happened? You are usually so composed. Tell me, what troubles your heart?"

Her sobs intensified as she clung to him, her voice trembling. "If I were to ask you... if I asked you to take me away from this place, away from everything—would you do it, Daeron? Could you carry me off into a life free from these chains?"

Daeron's heart clenched at her desperate plea, but he quickly composed himself. "Alicent, such a course would ignite conflict and likely start a war. It is not something I can simply do, for our worlds are too different. I cannot just whisk away a noble lady, specially the daughter of the King's hand and someone who loathes me deeply, nor can I risk the bloodshed that such a choice would bring."

Alicent's sobs turned into hiccuping cries as she shook her head vehemently. "I do not care about the petty niceties of nobility, Daeron. I want to live my own life. I am tired of being a puppet to my father's ambitions, used to seduce the king and further his designs. I want to be free to choose love, to choose happiness—even if it is only for a single moment of truth."

Daeron gently led her to sit in his bed by the window, sitting her down as he attempted to calm her trembling form. "Alicent, listen. If I were to take you with me, chaos would surely follow. Your father would not rest until you were returned to his side, and I am not in any position to start a war over you. I cherish you as a friend, but our lives belong to entirely different worlds. I cannot risk further upheaval by entangling our fates. I just can't."

Alicent's eyes flashed with determination as she looked up at him. "I understand the dangers, but I cannot endure living as nothing more than my father's puppet. I want—no, I need—to feel free, to be with the man who sees me for who I truly am."

Daeron's brow furrowed in conflict. He knew well the peril of such words; any scandal involving a noblewoman like Alicent could ignite the court's venomous gossip and bring ruin upon both their houses. "Alicent," he said softly, "if I were to take you with me, the consequences would be dire. Not only would your father stop at nothing to reclaim you, but I would be seen as causing further discord. I value you deeply as a friend, but I cannot—and will not—be the cause of a war."

Alicent's eyes shimmered with tears, and for a long moment, silence reigned between them. Then, in a sudden, impulsive move borne of anguish and defiance, she leapt forward, toppling Daeron onto the nearby bed. Before he could protest, she pressed her lips fiercely to his, her arms wrapping around him as if trying to hold on to a hope that might soon vanish.

"Daeron," she whispered breathlessly against his mouth, "if you take me with you, then I swear I will do whatever it takes to ensure that everyone knows the truth—that I chose to be with you, that I chose to love you. I don't care about my father's plans; just let me be with you."

He tried to gently push her away, but she clung stubbornly, her passion mingling with desperation. "Do not misunderstand me, Alicent," he murmured, his tone both tender and pained. "I care for you—truly, I do—but we are not bound by vows of love, nor can we be together. I cannot, in good conscience, risk everything for a fleeting escape. I see you as a cherished friend, and I cannot dishonor that by leading you down a path that will only bring ruin. I won't lie and take advantage of your vulnerability."

Alicent's eyes blazed with conflict and desire. "You say that now, but do you not feel it? Even if only for tonight, I want to feel free—to be loved by you, without the chains of duty strangling my heart." Her voice trembled as she unfastened a loose ribbon from her dress, her vulnerability laid bare.

Daeron's heart ached at her words. With a deep, sorrowful sigh, he drew her close once more, holding her as gently as possible. "Alicent, I cannot promise you a future beyond tonight. I do not feel the passion that would bind me to you in a way that could defy our fates. I care for you, but my path is already set, and it does not allow for such entanglements. I fear that if I indulge this moment, your father will use it to further his own ambitions, and both our reputations will be marred by scandal."

She looked into his eyes, searching for a truth that she knew, deep down, must be there. "I know you, Daeron. I know that you would never lie to me like the others. This, then, is my choice—my free will. Even if it means I become nothing more than a pawn, I will choose to be with you tonight. Even if the morning finds us apart, I want this memory to be ours."

Daeron hesitated, his mind a tempest of duty, desire, and impending regret. In the end, the weight of her plea was too great to bear. With a heavy heart, he captured her lips in a gentle, passionate kiss—a kiss that was both an embrace of fleeting ecstasy and a lament for a future they could never share. For that one night, they allowed themselves to forget the looming chaos, the bitter intrigues of Otto Hightower, and the inevitable parting that awaited them.

They explored each other passionately, as Alicent moaned his name, and whispered how happy she felt in his arms. She cried in pleasure as Daeron took her maidenhood, something she would never forget or regret. They spent the night wrapped in each other's arms, their conversation and touch a silent rebellion against the harsh reality of courtly life.

They spoke little of the future, knowing all too well that it was fraught with danger and inevitable separation. Instead, they clung to the present, to the warmth of their embrace, as if defying the relentless tide of fate that threatened to tear them apart. For hours, time seemed suspended as they clung to each other, the world outside their chamber a distant, painful memory.

As dawn crept in through a narrow window, its pale light revealing the tender scene, Alicent stirred slowly in Daeron's embrace. Her eyes fluttered open, and a small, sad smile graced her lips as she pressed a gentle kiss on his cheek. The softness of her touch was laden with unspoken promises and heartache.

"Daeron," she whispered, her voice soft and trembling, "I will never forget this night. You have shown me a kindness and love I never thought possible. Even if we are forced apart by duty and fate, I will remember the man who saw me as more than a puppet—a man who made me feel truly free, even if just for a moment."

Daeron's heart ached at her words. He held her close, wishing he could freeze time in that delicate, ephemeral moment. But as the morning light grew brighter, reality intruded. When he awoke later, he found the bed empty beside him. A note lay on the pillow, accompanied by a small bag. Trembling, he opened the bag to discover a single lock of silky hair and a handkerchief adorned with a faded kiss, a perfect imprint of Alicent's lips.

The note, written in careful, graceful script, read:

Dear Daeron,My father has decreed that I must marry the king, and I have no choice but to obey. I wished with all my heart to join you on your journey, but I know it is not meant to be. Remember me with fondness, even if fate turns us into strangers. 

Yours always—Alicent"

Daeron stared at the note, his mind reeling with sorrow and regret. He wished he could do something, but his rationality kept him at bay.

Outside, the sounds of the court—soft footsteps, hushed conversations, and the distant clamor of servants—reminded him that life continued even as hearts were broken. Daeron gathered his few remaining belongings, his eyes lingering on the note as if trying to commit every word to memory. Rhaenys had already finished packing his things, her quiet efficiency a stark contrast to the emotional storm that had passed through the chamber.

Before he left, Rhaenys returned to the room. She looked at him with a mixture of concern and exasperation. "I saw what happened," she said gently. "It seems you've had quite the night."

Daeron managed a wry smile, though his eyes were distant and pained. "I did, Rhaenys. It was both beautiful and heartbreaking. I wish… I wish things could be different for her—for both of us."

Rhaenys studied him for a long moment before speaking softly, "I guess that's life, little brother. Let us hope this does not end up causing further chaos later."

Outside, the corridors of the Red Keep bustled with subdued activity as Daeron prepared to depart. His few loyal confidants, including Ser Cryston Cole, assisted him in gathering his belongings, with his usual smirk. He whispered secretly, " I hope my prince enjoyed his nightly activities, I had to stay alert the whole night to ensure you were not interrupted or caught." Daeron playfully elbowed him in the ribs, and said, " You should have thought about that before choosing to follow me Cryston." earning a chuckle from him. Rhaenys moved silently among them, her eyes lingering on her brother with a mixture of sorrow and steely resolve.

Daeron told her jokingly, " You act as if I'm going away for good, sister. I will return, once I have the the power and freedom to follow my path."

Rhaenys shook her head and offered a gentle smile. "Then may your journey bring you the freedom you seek, Little brother."

The carriage rumbled onward as the Red Keep faded into the distance. Daeron stared out the window, clutching the note and small bag as reminders of a love that could never be fully realized—a fleeting, bittersweet interlude in a life marked by sorrow and duty.

Though the road ahead was uncertain, Daeron steeled himself for the long journey to come, leaving behind a kingdom mired in political intrigue and heartbreak, and setting his course for a distant shore where perhaps, someday, peace might be found.