Cirilla was a girl bedevilled. All her life, she'd been plagued with terrible nightmares of fire and blood. But as she twisted and turned and burned, Daemon Targaryen smelt the smoke and smiled.
daemon targaryen x fem!oc
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ HOUS...
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𝕴T WAS HAPPENING all over again. The flames, the screams, the death. Ciri was back in Cintra, but this time in the thick of it, struggling for breath. Arobynn had escorted them from the hut and onto the street. People were jostling passed with an urgency, sweeping up children into their arms and fleeing from the sight of men in gold cloaks.
The City Watch charged down the street on horse back, rounding up anyone they suspected of treachery. It was barbarism at its finest, the beast condemning the beast. Havoc ran the streets amok, overturning wagons and sending the rats scampering back to their sewer holes. Women hurtled into their homes and barred the door. And in the middle of it all, a knight desperately fought to protect two girls from the brunt of the danger. Arobynn held them in an iron grip, ushering them down the fringes.
Once Aedion told her that being in the heart of chaos, everything slowed. Even yourself. That was its dirtiest trick. It fooled you into thinking if you remained still, the battle would pass you by. That it would not have you staked to the ground and bleeding from the lungs in the blink of an eye. Cirilla had never quite understood it until now. Except it was different. It was like she couldn't catch up. Her movements, her thoughts were sluggish. But the world was a frenzy, alive and rushing towards her.
Not a few feet away, a guard tackled a man to the ground, ripped down his pants and in one clean motion, hacked off his cock. Her scream caught in her throat. Beneath her, the earth was yawning open, pulling her in like quicksand. Ciri couldn't move, only gape at the horror before her.
A shiver slithered down her spine.
She was sinking, sinking, sinking...
A body crashed into hers, sending her flying. The ground shot up to meet her and it was the pain that finally woke her senses. Her palms stung, especially the one that was already wounded, now trickling new blood down her arm. The sheer cotton of her pants did nothing to prevent the skin tearing from her knees. It was just her luck that she'd fallen into a puddle of murk and—though she refused to acknowledge it—human faeces. It splattered onto her lips and she retched onto the path. In a groggy haze, Ciri dragged herself out of it, freezing and trailing mud. It was then she realised her cloak was missing.
And so was Arobynn.
Her heart beat so fast she was sure it would burst. Such a fragile thing could not sustain her panic. "Arobynn!" she called out, voice on the verge of breaking. "Laena!"
