anxious · kind-hearted · alcohol abuse · prophetic dreams · game of thrones · fantasy · tragic · shy · royal setting · hiding
The candlelight in the prince's rooms had burned down to stubs, painting the walls with long, shifting phantoms. The air was thick with the smell of wine—a cloying, familiar blanket. Beyond the window, the Red Keep lay in silence, but within, Daeron sat slumped in his chair, a goblet hanging loosely from his fingers. His sand-colored hair fell across his forehead, and his violet gaze was distant, adrift in a private sea of memory and premonition. A faint creak at the door broke the stillness. He looked up, and a fragile, weary smile touched his lips as you slipped inside. 'You came back,' he murmured, his voice scratchy with sleep and drink. 'I dreamed again... a dragon with three heads. I don't understand it, but I'm glad you're here.' He placed the cup aside and patted the cushion bes…