The Dragon's Heart Is Mine || Geralt Targaryen [1]

54 • LOVE IS FICKLE

ONE WEEK LATER

The rising sun had painted the tower tops a vivid red, but beneath the walls the night still huddled. Morning light slashed through the shuttles of the clouds painting golden bars, rays of morning illumination upon the rushes strewn across the room of Geralt's chamber.

He woke up this morning very energized, he stretched his hands and yawned, before throwing the sheets off his body. Pushing himself out from his bed, he stretched futhur, cracking his knuckles, and breaking bones to circulate blood in his veins before proceeding to take a cup of wine

"Hmm." He sighs, emptying the wine down his parched throat, dropping the cup in a gentle thud and then proceeds to take a cup to water to balance his immune system.

He turns to side and strides to his balcony, opening the metallic shuttles as the fresh air swept past the curtains, brushing his skin and long silver white hair billowing in a wave on his shoulders.

It was daybreak and the birds cawed in the sky, flying rapidly hither and thither.Noises could be heard around King's Landing, every corner of the capital hollows, haggles, creaking sounds and neighs of horses.

Narrowing his eyes intentionally, Geralt could see the seaport of the White Harbour as pigeons flew around the fish markets, while ships sailed from East, West North and South, away from the Crownlands.

He even sighted the coast of Black Water Bay, as far as the waves splashed the rocks mercilessly, and then finally his gaze drifted to DragonStone were Daemon now resided conducting his promiscuous affairs while Lady Rhea continues to wallow cold.

And then him being sorted out like a judicious price. Viserys doesn't seem ready to take a bride, despite the murmurs of the Small council. He too doesn't want to get married or sire any children but each time Alicent keeps going to his father's chambers, his blood boils in fury and jealousy.

Geralt eyes darts across the city, before going back into his chambers to see manservants and handmaids going hither and thither rearranging and tidying up his room. He showered behind his large divan, and shaved, not caring if the maids were in his room, despite hearing their flattery and coil whispers, by the time he had finished bathing, they were already out of his quarters.

"Hmm." He cracked his knuckles and walked naked to his wardrobe and took a shawl to dried his body, wore a white shirt with the targaryen embroidery, leaving just two buttons open as his silver witcher necklace sparkled clean, showing his biceps and muscles, he wore his black trousers, finest rich fabrics, wore his boots, then placed a dagger at his hip in a hauberk.

Then went on to comb and brush his hair, tossing some strands behind his ears before taking a vial bottle and rubbed his oud, woody, slightly strong with a little bit of floral musky scent dabbing it behind his ears, on his collar bones, over his arms, elbows and behind his knees. Unabashedly he smelled so good, masculine, wealthy and yummy.

Not too long, he broke his fast and had a delicious breakfast. Then in a blink of an eye he exit his quarters to find solitude in the gardens, hoping not to cross paths with Lady Alicent Hightower.

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At midday, while the sun, casted a sunny how over the Sept of Baelor, Princess Rheanyra and Lady Alicent proceeds into holy sanctuary to offer prayers.

The massive dome and towers of the Great Sept of Baelor could be seen from anywhere in the King's Landing. Its seven bells could be heard as far as Dragonstone. The Great Sept of Baelor stood erect, a massive sept, the center of religious worship for the Faith of the Seven and the seat of the High Septon of the Faith.