The Power Of Prophecy

The Bed of Secrets

Daena remained seated at the banquet table, her breath hitching as her eyes met Aemond’s across the Grand Hall. The laughter and chatter of the wedding feast continued around her, but she heard none of it — only the deafening rush of her own pulse pounding in her ears. Her heart was racing, each beat like a drum signaling her impending doom. The announcement of the bedding ceremony had been like a knife to her gut, and the weight of it now pressed down on her chest, making it hard to breathe.

She wanted to run, to bolt from the hall and escape this nightmare. But her limbs felt heavy, rooted to the spot as though the very earth beneath her conspired to hold her in place. The idea of being alone with Aemond in his chamber, under the eyes of those who would force them into this act — it was more than she could bear. She had no control, no say in what was about to happen, and the thought of it made her feel small and powerless.

Before she could gather her thoughts, two lords appeared beside her, their hands cold and firm as they seized her by the arms. She jolted in surprise, her body stiffening as they hoisted her to her feet. "No — wait, stop!" she cried, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and rising hysteria. But the lords ignored her pleas, their grip like iron as they began to drag her away from the table.

"Let me go! You can’t do this!" Daena's protest was met with only laughter, the sound sharp and cruel in her ears. Panic surged in her chest, and she twisted against their hold, her feet scrambling for purchase on the polished stone floor. But it was no use. They were stronger than her, their hands unyielding as they half-carried, half-dragged her across the hall.

In her frantic struggle, Daena's gaze found Aemond. He was standing in the middle of the hall, surrounded by lords who clapped him on the back and urged him forward. He looked calm, almost detached, as though this was just another duty to be performed. The sight of his indifferent expression cut through Daena like a blade, the betrayal deep and visceral. She had hoped — foolishly, perhaps — that he might show some sign of hesitation, some acknowledgment of the horror of this situation. But there was nothing.

Desperation clawed at her, and she looked wildly around the room, seeking out anyone who might help her. Her eyes landed on Alicent, standing at the edge of the hall, her face pale and drawn. Daena’s heart leaped with a flicker of hope, but it was extinguished almost immediately as Alicent averted her gaze, turning away and leaving the hall without a word. Daena felt a sharp sting of hopelessness — she was truly alone in this.

Then, she caught sight of Helaena. The princess was still seated at the table, her hands clamped over her ears as if trying to block out the noise. Her face was a mask of discomfort, her eyes squeezed shut as though in pain. The sight only deepened Daena’s despair.

The lords carrying her moved with a purpose, lifting her as if she weighed nothing. "No! No, please, you have to stop!" Daena begged, her voice rising in pitch as she kicked and thrashed against their hold. But they were implacable, their grip tightening as they continued to haul her toward the hall's exit.

The room spun around her, a blur of faces and laughter that felt like a distant echo. In the crowd that trailed behind them, Daena recognized the three young noblewomen who had whispered and snickered about her earlier. Their eyes gleamed with malicious delight as they watched her struggle, their laughter piercing through the noise like shards of glass. "Look at her! The Targaryen queen, already trembling!" one sneered, her voice dripping with contempt. "Maybe she should’ve practiced her royal duties before the wedding," another chimed in, giggling as if mocking a play. The words sliced through Daena, humiliation washing over her like a cold wave.

As they passed into a dimly lit corridor, the reality of what was about to happen settled over her like a suffocating blanket. The lords carried her toward a set of double doors at the end of the corridor, their heavy wooden frames flanked by stern-faced guards. The doors creaked open as they approached, revealing the darkened interior beyond. Daena’s heart seized in her chest as she realized where they were taking her.