wicked games | aemond targaryen

𝚜𝚒𝚡𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗

VALAENA FELT A heavy weight against her chest as her eyes fluttered open to the dark-lit ceiling above her. She tried to pull her hand up to wipe the sweat on her face only to find it stopped by something heavy. Her head rolled to the side, surprised to find her father half-asleep in a chair as he gripped her hand.

Her movement appeared to have woken him up as he raised his head to find her awake, a look of relief crossing his face as he smiled at her.

"You've been lying to me," Daemon had a bittersweet smile on his face as he raised her hand to his lips. "You have been going down to the village."

"You knew I couldn't resist it," Valaena teased back, grimacing as a pain shot up her chest.

"I know," Daemon nodded as he placed her hand back on the bed but refused to release his grip. "You and I have that in common, I fear."

Valaena could sense Daemon was trying to ease his own mind and that their conversation was sidetracking from the serious topic at hand. 

"What is it?" she frowned, pushing herself up into a sitting position only to stop as she released a coughing fit. 

"Don't push yourself," Daemon released her hand as he reached up to stopped her movement. "The maesters don't want you to exert yourself."

"The maesters?" Valaena questioned with furrowed eyebrows as her eyes landed on the table in her room, littered with herbs and medicines that she was used to seeing in her uncle's chambers.

"What's wrong?" she questioned as she glanced at Daemon, who was refusing to look at her. "What is it?"

Daemon pushed himself up from the chair, his head in his hands as paced away from her. Valaena felt her heart drop in her chest as she watched him turn to face her, tears in his eyes.

"Tell me," Valaena demanded, although she wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer.

"They think it's greywater fever," Daemon finally told her. "There's been an epidemic in the village the past few days. It's the only way you could have caught it."

Valaena barely heard what he said as she felt the ringing in her hears drown him out. 

Greywater fever.

"Oh god," Valaena mumbled as she felt her stomach hurl, grabbing the pot beside her as she began hurling her stomach's contents into it.  

She felt a pair of warm arms on her back as her father tried to soothe her.

"We have the best maesters in Westeros here to help you recover," Daemon assured her as she leaned back into her pillow.

"There won't be any recovering," Valaena sighed as she closed her eyes. "You and I both know that."

"Don't say that," Daemon's voice was rough as she opened her eyes to look at him. All it did was make her want to cry more, but she had to stay strong for him. If she fell apart then they were both doomed.

"Where are the others?" Valaena questioned as she tried to change the subject.

"Moping around the castle," Daemon joked, the false smile dropping from his face when she didn't find it quite as amusing. "They wanted to come but the maesters don't want them to catch it."

"That's good," Valaena nodded as if trying to convince herself. "They shouldn't be here. Neither should you."

"As if I would be anywhere else," Daemon shook his head as he took her hand again. "It's you and I against the world, remember? My littlest dragon and I."

"You haven't called me that since I was a little girl," Valaena smiled fondly at the nickname.

"You'll always be my little girl," Daemon mumbled as he reached up to stroke her hair, blinking back the tears in his eyes. "No matter how old or rebellious you get."