Tale of Two Queens

[040] To Daeron, My Heart

"How is the prince?"

"Heartbroken."

"Of course." Vaegon sighed as he looked down the hall at the door of his chambers. Poor Daeron had locked himself in that room ever since he heard of the accident. He'd always been described as sensitive and full of emotion but this time, he took it to another level. Tessarion found it in her favor to wail all day and night as her rider screamed across the castle.

Vaegon rolled his eyes as he heard another wave of sobbing. "Kid gets his wick dipped and becomes a nervous wreck," he muttered before running his hand through his silver hair.

He sighed, having to face the aftermath of their plotting as he walked past the nobles gathered outside the princes chambers, his black robes trailing behind him. The sound of smashing glass was heard as Vaegon blinked in surprise.

The Lord and Lady Hightower stood outside Daerons chambers as he sobbed on. Vaegon looked to them as they gave him a knowing look. He looked back to the door before pushing it open to find a glass hurled at him as he ducked.

It shattered behind him as he found Daeron standing in front of his window in his trousers with tears streaming down his face. Bloody footprints littered the floor as glass had embedded itself in his feet while his milky white skin had shimmered in the sunlight.

"Daeron—"

He shivered out a breath of mist as he fisted the torn fabric of Ophelia's dress tightly in his hand. "She's gone Vaegon. My lady is dead." Daeron chokingly croaked out as he turned to Vaegon, his eyes red from crying with bruised lips and oddly, cuts on them. He looked like a ghost as he struggled to swallow with saliva and bloody drool flowing down the sides of his mouth.

Daeron had lost a significant amount of weight, his collar bones ever more sharp as his eyes had looked sunken in. Plates of food had all been rejected other than the wine that was delivered at his request.

Vaegon's eyes fell to the tattered piece of skirt in his hands as he then sighed, "Her bedding caught fire and you know Ophelia, she had snuck some chemicals in her room so—"

"I don't care, she's dead. Dead." Daeron repeated as he spat through his teeth before turning around and hugging the thick black scrap of fabric in his arms. He breathed in the perfume she had worn that night before shaking his head as he looked up at the afternoon sun.

"I loved her and she was...mine?" He said as he turned around to Vaegon. "Mine. All mine. And still the gods thought fit to take her from me?"

Vaegon sensed a change in the once sweet boy he taught. This man than stood in front of him was volatile and explosive. He no longer looked kind and charming but more mad and angry. Sweet Daeron did not own anything other than the hearts of all the fair maids in Oldtown. Sweet Daeron would not touch a bird without hesitation as to fearing he might crush it but this Daeron, this Daeron was nothing like himself.

He only seemed live in anger as he became rather blunt and rude to his serving maids. Vaegon almost wanted to roll his eyes at how much a three month courtship changes a person. Damn it Mera.

"You must sleep Daeron," Vaegon begged to calm him as he didn't like his erratic motions.

"No," Daeron agonised as tears ran down his mad eyes. "Everytime I close my eyes...she is there. Far from my reach. Delicate and...alive." He turned, dropping the skirt as he moaned in pain, a sharp pain his stomach as he fisted his tattered silver curls.

"Oh Vaegon, she's dead." He repeated as he choked out a sob. Daeron swung his curtains close as he walked across the glass without flinching from the pain that shot through his feet. He stumbled to a table and grabbed a pint of wine before drowning it as much of it spilled out and onto his alabaster skin before staining his white tunic.