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THREE DAYS had passed since Daemon and Eleanor Targaryen had snuck through the Dragonpit, their laughter echoing in the shadows of the ancient stone

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THREE DAYS had passed since Daemon and Eleanor Targaryen had snuck through the Dragonpit, their laughter echoing in the shadows of the ancient stone. The thrill of adventure had dulled since then, replaced by the monotony of the Red Keep's walls closing in around them. The aftermath of their escapade weighed heavily on both twins, and a palpable tension hung in the air, as if the very stones of the castle conspired to keep them apart.

Even now, as Eleanor lay in her dimly lit chamber, the soft flicker of candlelight casting dancing shadows against the walls, she couldn't shake the feeling of restlessness. It was stifling. Outside, the sounds of the castle drifted through the cracks in her window—a distant clattering of dishes, the low murmur of servants, and the occasional laughter from the courtyard below. But inside her room, it felt as if time stood still.

Just as she was about to drift into an uneasy sleep, a soft rustling caught her attention. The familiar sound of her door creaking open sent a flutter of hope through her heart. Daemon stepped inside, his silhouette framed by the light from the hallway, a mischievous grin plastered on his face.

"Can't sleep?" he whispered, closing the door quietly behind him.

Eleanor smiled, her heart racing at the sight of him. "You could say that," she replied, propping herself up on her elbows. "What about you? Aren't you supposed to be in your chambers?"

Daemon shrugged, his expression playful. "Boredom can't hold a candle to the thrill of sneaking into my sister's room."

"You're lucky you didn't get caught," Eleanor teased, her voice laced with relief and affection. "I can't imagine what Father would say if he found out."

"Let him try," Daemon scoffed, walking further into the room and leaning against the wall, arms crossed. "Besides, what's life without a little risk? These days have been duller than the history lessons we were forced to endure."

Eleanor chuckled softly, recalling the endless lectures on the Targaryen lineage and the politics of Westeros. "I didn't think I'd miss them, but now? I'd trade all the history for just a moment of excitement."

A brief silence hung between them, filled only by the quiet rustle of the wind outside. Eleanor's heart ached with the longing for their past adventures—when they'd ride through the skies on their dragons, the world sprawling out beneath them like an uncharted map. Those days felt distant now, overshadowed by their confinement.

"What if we ran away?" Daemon suggested suddenly, breaking the stillness. "Just for a little while. We could find somewhere—anywhere—away from all of this."

Eleanor felt a thrill at the idea, her heart racing at the thought of freedom. "Where would we go?"

"Anywhere but here," he said, his voice fervent. "The Stormlands, perhaps? We could even sneak into the Vale, see what those mountain folk are up to. Just think of it—us, together, exploring the world without anyone holding us back."

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆,  daemon targaryenWhere stories live. Discover now