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THE NEXT MORNING, Daemerys woke up with a smile. A rare and happy one and she knew why. Things had changed, she felt it and yes it was unexpected but she couldn't find it in herself to hate it.
She had hated Aemond for a long time, she didn't want to betroth him — she only did what was right for her family but now she felt an odd sense of peace.
Beware the beast beneath the boards.
Awake the dragon for your revenge.
A closed eye will open the other to possibilities.
One son must fall for the dragons to dance.
Her stomach began to churn as the voices in her chambers grew louder, shoving the covers from her body and running into the bathing room and vomiting into the bucket on the floor.
Ser Criston, who had heard her feet padding quickly on the floor from outside her door, knocked on it to check on her.
"My lady?", he waited for a response but gained nothing but a painful groan. His sword was removed instantly as he opened her chamber door, stumbling in until he found her on the floor puking into a wooden bucket. "Oh, my lady".
He put his sword away and bent down to gather her hair behind her back, keeping it from her sickness. He used his free hand to rub her back as she groaned.
"Tis just the voices, they aren't so kind", she whispered and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She felt completely embarrassed.
Criston nodded, trying to be understanding but he didn't know why she heard voices but he was sympathetic. It was times like these he hated himself for the hateful things he had called her.
"Should I get the Prince, my lady?", he asked, continuing his soothing.
Daemerys scoffed and turned to him, "Enough with the formalities, Ser Criston. I'm a bastard, no lady", she watched as he nodded but his eyes drifted to the floor in shame. "But to answer your question, no. I do not need Aemond coming to my aid".
