cathy-histories

[cathy-histories]

This is not a date

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen/female reader, Aemond Targaryen/original character

Summary: Daemma Targaryen is the daughter of Prince Aegon, the younger brother of King Viserys, and cousin to Aemond. The two were childhood friends and frequent debate partners, having shared many moments together. After a brief period of distance, they have reunited during an impromptu gathering in the lands of the Reach.

W.c: 6.6k

A/N: Hello everyone, I hope you enjoy this one-shot. I want to clarify that English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance if you notice any mistakes—I did my best haha. 🤭

This is a fragment from my Wattpad fanfic called Sun and Fire, and my username is CathyFonse27. Thank you so much for taking the time to read it. I hope you enjoy it! 💞💞

•••

The sun had not yet risen to mark the dawn when Daemma Targaryen climbed onto Auryon's back and took flight toward Brightwater, just as she had arranged with his cousin. For her, it was a short journey compared to Aemond's, considering she lived in Highgarden. Still, she left early, making sure her dragon was well-fed to avoid any trouble—after all, it would be a nuisance if he decided to roast someone's livestock, or worse, a person, out of hunger.

What Daemma loved most was soaring above the dark clouds and feeling the sky so close. All was cloaked in shadow as they rose, until Auryon climbed higher and higher, finally piercing through the dusky veil to meet the weak sunlight beginning to break through.

She adored the sun, loved its warmth. She could never stand the cold or the darkness. She couldn't understand how people in the North managed to live under such hostile weather, nor how her cousins could enjoy places where the wind could freeze one's soul—like King's Landing, Driftmark, or Dragonstone.

Highgarden was undoubtedly her place—the region with the warmest climate and the most fertile lands. She could never trade her lifestyle or her home for anything else.

When she arrived at the agreed meeting spot, she simply lay back on the grass, arms tucked behind her head, one leg bent and the other stretched out, gazing up at the sky, now fully open and bright. She let Auryon wander freely, knowing those abandoned fields were a safe place for dragons.

She took a light nap, then remained there, humming a Valyrian song her father had taught her, waiting, just waiting—until she felt a colossal shadow fall over the land. For a moment, the sun vanished, blocked by something massive, and Daemma merely smiled.

The roar of the largest dragon rang out, and yet she remained lying down, not even bothering to look at Vhagar. A few moments passed, and then she heard a voice she hadn't heard in a long time—an arrogant tone she recognized instantly.

She heard the whisper of tall grass parting under footsteps drawing near. At last, she opened her eyes and looked up at the prince—his cousin—standing tall beside her, while she still lay on her back.

"So eager to see me?" he asked.

Without responding or rising from the ground, Daemma simply raised her hand and spoke with the same arrogant tone.

"To see you? I want my ring. Where is it?"

(The ring she had sent to blackmail him into meeting her.)

The corners of the silver-haired prince's lips curled into a mocking smirk. From the pocket of his black trousers, he pulled out the ring and stepped forward to place it in her hand. Only then did Daemma sit up on the grass, wearing a faint smile, and slid the golden band onto her right index finger.

"Was blackmail really necessary? With the ring I gave you?"

Daemma and Prince Aemond now sat beneath the shade of a great tree, their backs against its trunk, protected from the sun's growing heat.

That day, the young lady wore a simple dress—black with smooth sleeves, adorned with red embroidery. She wore black boots, her hair was partially tied up in a half-bun, and she had on golden earrings, a matching bracelet, and the ring she had just slid onto her finger.

As the girl breathed in the fresh air around her, she responded mockingly.

"I didn't know I had the power to blackmail you. If you didn't want to come, you didn't have to... it wouldn't be the first time you stood me up, after all."

(According to her, it had already happened three times.)

"I've never done that" the one-eyed prince replied, looking at her, not quite understanding what she meant. He truly couldn't recall ever having dared to stand her up. Daemma, however, began to play with the ring on her finger, laughing at Aemond's confusion.

"Yes, you did... In the last letter I sent, I summoned you and you never showed."

"I never said I'd go."

"But you didn't say you wouldn't either."

Aemond rolled his eye and shook his head before answering defiantly. 

"Then why didn't you take revenge? You could've stood me up here."

Daemma stopped looking at her ring and lifted her ocean-colored eyes to meet his cousin's, replying with sarcastic calm. 

"Don't worry, Aemond... I've got a much better revenge planned."

"Oh really?"

A brief silence fell between them, both staring at each other with barely concealed amused expressions, until the girl rose to her feet and reached for a sack she had brought with her. She dug through it and pulled out some fruit, handing a few pieces to Aemond, who looked at them seriously.

"I imagine you haven't had breakfast. It's a long day ahead, so we'd better eat something."

"You haven't changed one bit... you're like a rabbit. Don't you eat anything other than fruit and vegetables?"

Daemma sat back down beside him, the sack resting at her side, and while biting into a green apple she replied, unbothered by his teasing.

"It's all I brought. If you want something else, go find it yourself."

"I came prepared for this. Let me show you what a real breakfast looks like."

Aemond handed back the fruit her cousin and childhood friend had given him, then stood up and walked over to a leather satchel he had brought.

The silver-haired girl tried to remain stoic while biting her apple, but her curious eyes betrayed her. Meanwhile, the prince opened the satchel and rummaged through it. He pulled out a bowl containing something Daemma hadn't seen in a long time—her eyes widened in surprise when she recognized them: cookies.

"I told the cook to make honey, oat, and strawberry cookies... I know you like them" the straight-haired prince teased. Daemma was clearly surprised. It had been years since she last tasted cookies like those and she couldn't hide her growing desire for one. Aemond noticed and began eating, purposely exaggerating his enjoyment just to annoy her.

"They're delicious... shame I only ordered a few for myself."

"And who's asking?" Daemma shot back sharply, stubbornly chewing her apple and trying not to lose focus. Still, she felt her gaze drifting toward Aemond's cookies like a magnet. She commented firmly, attempting to convince herself of the words coming out of her mouth.

"Fruit is healthy... those sweets will make you fat."

"You're absolutely right" Aemond replied, now laughing openly as he munched on the cookies and the girl's gaze slowly turned steely.

"Son of a bitch" she muttered with her mouth full, not even looking at him and Aemond pretended not to hear. 

"Did you say something?"

"Oh, nothing. Just said this apple is delicious" she replied in an innocent tone, and the prince simply nodded with an amused expression. When only three cookies were left, he took the bowl and, without asking, placed it in Daemma's lap. She tried to push it away, but Aemond wouldn't let her.

"Eat them. As much as you try to deny it—I know you want to."

"Then why didn't you offer me one from the start?"

"To mess with you."

If it had been up to her, she would've thrown the bowl straight at his head. But she wanted the cookies, so she swallowed her pride and ate them with enthusiasm. They were delicious—there was no denying the cooks at the Red Keep were excellent at their craft.

Aemond stood up and began walking across the endless meadow toward Vhagar, who was resting in the distance. Once the girl had devoured the last crumb, she also rose and quickened her pace to catch up with him.

Vhagar lay sprawled among several trees, and Auryon was beside the colossal dragon. The size difference between them was almost comical. Daemma's dragon was only slightly larger than Vermax, a creature just seventeen years old, whereas Vhagar was nearly 180—a living relic from the time of Aegon the Conqueror. Anyone watching might assume Vhagar was a gigantic mother and Auryon her tiny hatchling.

The prince climbed the ropes attached to his dragon's side and retrieved a dark hooded cloak from her back. Daemma noticed he also took a medium-sized sword. Once he came back down, he sheathed it in a belt tied at his right hip and covered it with the cloak, pulling the hood up to hide his silver hair.

"If we're going for a walk, we shouldn't be recognized" he said. Daemma understood at once. She pulled out her own cloak and tucked her hair beneath it, then affectionately stroked Auryon's neck. When she noticed Aemond had already started walking, she ran after him.

He always had this habit of walking too fast—his long legs made for wide strides, which annoyed Daemma and made it hard to keep up.

"Do you have to walk so fast?"

"Last time we walked for hours. Don't you want to visit that awful inn in the nearby village?"

"It's still quite a distance away, but there's no rush. Besides, we just ate... slow down, you've got me running."

Aemond's steps became slightly slower. They walked across the endless fields, through tall grass, flowers, and trees, until they found the trail travelers used.

Several kilometers ahead was the inn they'd once visited—the place of their first meeting, three years ago. They followed the stone-and-dirt path in silence at first, until Daemma glanced over her shoulder and broke it with a new topic.

"Vhagar will be fine, right? You fed her properly?"

"She's always well fed. Why are you asking?"

"Because I'm worried she might eat someone" she said casually, and Aemond narrowed his eye slightly before answering with a sigh.

"The dragonkeepers always make sure she's taken care of. You should be more worried about your little lizard—he's already big enough to eat a person."

Daemma narrowed her eyes a bit too, replying with a firm tone.

"I made sure to feed him before we left. And don't compare Auryon's temperament to that of your mutant iguana."

"Vhagar will stay calm as long as no idiot disturbs her."

"If you say so" sighed the silver-haired girl. Their steps lengthened again, and they walked a long while without saying a word. The road felt endless, but neither of them seemed tired. They were used to traveling long distances.

Suddenly, Daemma took the initiative to ease the atmosphere and spoke in a softer tone.

"How's your training been going? I know you've been working hard with the sword."

"Who told you that?"

"Helaena wrote to me. Your mother... Tymon Lannister..." she listed, until his cousin suddenly turned to her.

"Lannister?" Aemond stopped walking, surprising Daemma slightly. They stared at each other, and for some reason, he looked displeased.

"You're in contact with Tymon Lannister?" he asked again. Daemma kept walking, answering calmly as she shrugged.

"Lord Jason Lannister introduced me to him—not surprising, really... I'm a beautiful girl and a good match, you know? Plenty of lords and ladies want to introduce me to their sons, nephews, or single cousins. I met Ser Tymon and he told me he'd been to King's Landing recently. Said you two dueled and that you were good."

"Too good for him" Aemond said with a smug air as he walked. "Ser Tymon is as arrogant as the rest of his family, but disappointing with a sword."

Daemma smiled faintly and clicked her tongue.

"Maybe, but he was pleasant. Polite... and handsome."

Those words made Aemond tense up, though he tried to mask it with sarcasm.

"Pleasant, polite and handsome, huh? The perfect little prince for a fragile, delicate maiden like yourself."

"Well, yes. Superficially, we'd make quite the couple" Daemma played along, which only seemed to annoy the one-eyed prince more. He didn't even notice that his fists were clenched at his sides. When he spoke again, his voice betrayed a hint of worry.

"You're still in contact with Ser Charming?"

"No... I made it clear I wasn't interested in marriage proposals. Yet."

Involuntarily, a tiny sigh of relief escaped Aemond's lips—so subtle that Daemma didn't notice. They kept walking for a while, the sun growing hotter above them. Aemond felt like he was melting beneath his hood.

"Fucking weather" he muttered, wiping sweat from his forehead. Daemma pulled out a small leather flask filled with water. She drank, then offered it to him. At first, he eyed it suspiciously, but she reassured him.

"It was boiled first, it's safe."

"I'll never understand how you tolerate this heat."

Aemond drank, then continued walking. There were still several kilometers ahead, and they briefly considered resting to catch their breath. It wasn't exhaustion—it was the searing sun that made it difficult to go on.

As they crossed a bridge of pale stone, the sound of hooves and wooden wheels echoed behind them. Daemma looked back while Aemond kept moving forward.

An older man—almost elderly—was driving a modest wooden cart pulled by two thin horses. When he saw the travelers, he slowed his beasts and greeted them with a friendly voice.

"Seven blessings upon you."

"Seven blessings, good ser" Daemma replied with a smile. Aemond stopped but said nothing, eyeing the man with suspicion.

"Following the road, are you?"

"We're headed to the next inn, still a few kilometers off" Daemma answered politely, while Aemond shot her a warning look.

Upon hearing her words, the cart driver grinned, showing a missing front tooth and raised his voice again.

"Well, I'm headed that way too. You're welcome to ride behind the cart—if you don't mind traveling with my companions."

Just as Aemond began shaking his head in irritation, Daemma walked to the back of the cart and found three enormous pigs. They stank, no doubt, and the wooden planks they stood on were filthy—straw, mud, and, of course, excrement.

Suddenly, she smiled again and raised her voice.

"I'll ride with you."

"What?!" Aemond looked at her in disbelief, and she replied calmly.

"If we take the cart, we'll reach the inn before a rooster can crow."

"Are you insane? How can you trust a stranger? He could be a thief."

"That's why you brought a sword, isn't it? And you're the expert."

Daemma didn't wait for an answer. She climbed onto the cart and stood among the pigs. The prince couldn't believe it.

"It's full of shit!"

"I brought boots. No problem."

"It is a problem!" Aemond grumbled, while the old man sitting at the front chuckled, clearly amused. Daemma smirked and teased.

"What, is the little prince afraid of getting his boots dirty?"

"I'm not going, Daemma!" Aemond didn't bother to hide his irritation and the girl replied with a firm, sarcastic tone.

"Fine, don't come. I'll wait for you there—but be careful... thieves might come your way."

Aemond scoffed and replied with mocking confidence.

"That's what the sword's for—I am the expert."

His feet turned back to the road as the man in the cart flicked the reins to move the horses. As they passed by, Daemma leaned toward the edge where her cousin walked and called out once more.

"Safe travels, cousin. But if anything bad happens to me... you'll never forgive yourself. Goodbye."

At first, Aemond acted like he didn't care. He shrugged and kept walking, but the further the cart got, the more irritated he became. Shit, he thought, until finally the pressure got the best of him. He began to jog and raised a hand, waving it from side to side.

"Hey! Wait—I'm coming too!"

The old man stopped with a mischievous grin and Daemma smiled broadly as Aemond caught up. With clear reluctance, the prince climbed into the cart, stepping onto the filthy planks. He barely hid a grimace, and the stench was even worse up close.

The cart driver carried on as if watching a comedy play out before him. Aemond stood stiffly, gripping the cart's edge, while the pigs munched on rotten scraps littered with mud and, of course, feces. It looked like vegetables—though only the gods knew what else they were eating. Aemond tilted his head back to catch a breath of fresh air from the trees... but the stench was unbearable.

Daemma, meanwhile, was thoroughly amused, laughing at his cousin's misery.

"I think I'm beginning to understand when you said there were better revenges than standing me up."

"Oh, don't be bitter. It's not like I planned this."

The journey felt endless. Aemond could feel his boots sinking into the filth, and the pigs jostled constantly, rubbing their mucky bodies against his clothes.

In that moment, the prince had never felt such a powerful urge to strangle her cousin. Meanwhile, Daemma hummed a tune and even patted one of the pigs' heads like it was a dog.

"He'll bite your finger off" Aemond snapped.

Daemma, sensing he'd reached his limit, backed off and replied calmly.

"Alright, alright."

"You'll pay for this—do you hear me? I won't forget this."

Daemma burst into laughter again, and after a long, bumpy ride, one of the pigs got too close and pressed Aemond against the cart's side. The prince tried to shove it away, but the animal wouldn't budge. Things only got worse when he felt something warm running down his right leg. Using more force, he finally pushed the pig aside—only to realize it had peed on him.

Daemma's eyes widened, and though she tried to hold it in, she couldn't anymore. She erupted into a loud, uncontrollable laugh that echoed through the woods. Aemond turned crimson with rage, but she just kept laughing. Even the cart driver heard the outburst, though he didn't stop to ask—he simply continued the journey.

Eventually, the cart rolled to a halt in front of the inn.

As soon as his boots touched solid ground, Aemond wanted nothing more than to slay the pig with his sword. He'd have gladly paid the farmer for the right. But instead, he swallowed his fury and began scrubbing his pants with the water from Daemma's leather flask, stepping into the tall grass to wipe off some of the filth from his boots.

Daemma, still in excellent spirits, paid the cart driver three silver dragons. The man's eyes widened in shock.

"Well, I've never been paid that much for a ride."

"Believe me—it wasn't just for the ride. This was one of the most entertaining trips I've ever had."

She stifled another giggle with her hand. The man laughed as well and rode off. Daemma returned to Aemond's side and helped clean the mud from her own boots before they both entered the inn.

A modest two-story building sat at the foot of the road, made of wood, straw and stone. The upstairs held the lodging rooms, while the lower floor served as the tavern kitchen.

Both of them entered still wrapped in their dirty cloaks, hoods pulled low to hide their hair, and sat at the first empty table they could find. To their surprise, many people turned to look at them—curious, cold, and hostile eyes all around.

Ignoring the stares, they sat across from each other in silence. Daemma struggled not to laugh, while Aemond's eye seemed to burn with fury.

"If your goal was to ruin my day, you've succeeded" he muttered.

"Well, I've had more fun than I have in ages. I could travel with you more often."

"I'll have a beer in this dump and be on my way" Aemond growled, barely suppressing his anger. His eye still burned when a young serving girl approached. Her hair was unkempt, her skin rough and unwashed. She kept her head down as she asked what they wanted.

Aemond ordered a beer and some chicken to share. Daemma asked for a glass of milk.

When their food arrived, they began to eat in silence, until a deep, rough woman's voice spoke from a few tables ahead. 

"Funny thing... hooded strangers in a place like this."

They ignored her and continued eating, but the woman wasn't done. She stood from her chair and walked over to them.

Her skin was olive-toned, hair dark and dry—tied back so the color was hard to see. Her dress had a deep neckline, though she didn't have much to show. It was filthy and torn, and for a moment, they both assumed she was a prostitute. Daemma stared at her coolly while sipping her milk. The woman gave a sly, wicked smile.

"You're a pretty little thing... and a pretty girl in a hood, who dresses like that?"

"Nobles do" a man in the back said while sharpening a knife.

The woman laughed through her harsh features, but again, the pair didn't respond. Daemma drank her milk, and Aemond rushed to drink his beer.

"The dainty girl drinks milk instead of ale or wine, huh?"

Suddenly, the woman grabbed Daemma's hand roughly and pulled off the black pearl ring Aemond had given her. Startled, Daemma shot up from her seat, knocking over the chair. But the woman seized the collar of her cloak and slammed her against the wall, holding her there.

Aemond stood up at once—but as he did, all the men in the tavern rose too, revealing their swords. They were bandits—all of them. Clearly working together.

Aemond quickly assessed his options. He could fight—he was sure of his skill. But there were at least twenty of them. The real problem was that they had Daemma. He had to get her out safely before doing anything else.

"Hand over your valuables peacefully" one of the men growled. "or we'll take them by force."

The others laughed darkly.

Just as Aemond considered offering up the coin he carried, a firm voice broke the tension. Daemma, still in the woman's grasp, addressed her captor without an ounce of fear.

"Rob us...? You must be joking. There's no way you're walking away with anything from us."

The woman tightened her grip and burst out laughing.

"The fuck are you saying?"

"You know... I've had such a good day I'm feeling generous. Take the warning I'm giving you and walk away—otherwise, my companion and I are going to kill you all."

The one eye of Aemond widened in surprise. For a second, the whole room went still—then erupted in laughter.

One of the thugs stepped forward, weapon drawn, eyeing Daemma.

"Leave that girl to me. I'll take everything from her—and maybe we'll have some fun with her too."

"I'm not into skinny girls, but now I'm feeling curious" said another.

Aemond didn't think twice and drew his sword. Before anyone could react, the prince launched himself at the attackers, fighting several men at once. When the rest of the cowards came at him too, Daemma seized the woman who held her by the collar and landed a brutal kick to her stomach, knocking the air out of her. As the woman dropped to her knees, Daemma kicked her in the face and pulled a sharp dagger from her boot.

The two Targaryens began to fight in earnest, putting years of training into deadly practice. Aemond struck the men charging him, disarming them with precision. He even knocked one unconscious with a smashed bottle to the head.

Daemma, despite her slim frame, held off three attackers. Her agility made up for her size, and with her dagger, she wounded one man in the hand and snatched his larger weapon. With that, she used swift, powerful blows to disarm the others. Like Aemond, she wasn't aiming to kill—only to disable.

After several intense moments—while the innkeeper and some of the patrons cowered under tables amidst the chaos—their hoods slipped off, revealing their long white hair.

The bandits paled at the sight of their Valyrian features. A few bolted from the inn as if they'd seen ghosts. Attacking members of the royal family was an unforgivable act of treason, and even the relatives of the culprits could be executed without trial.

Some men lay groaning on the floor, others unconscious. The older woman staggered to her feet, eyes wide with fear. Blood streamed from her broken nose, running down her jaw and soaking her filthy dress. Aemond stood poised for another strike, his expression fierce, and raised his voice in the shattered room, gripping the hilt of his sword tightly.

"GET OUT! If you value your worthless lives, you'd best vanish!"

Silence fell. A few men dropped their swords and fled at once. Others helped their wounded comrades through the door, not daring to look back. Finally, the woman began to leave as well—until she saw Daemma stretch out her hand.

Their eyes locked as Daemma spoke in a low, threatening voice.

"The ring... or I'll slit your throat."

The girl, once delicate and seemingly fragile, now showed a face that shook the woman to her core. She knew Daemma wasn't bluffing. Without another word, the woman placed the black pearl ring back into Daemma's hand and fled with the rest of her crew.

The inn was left with only the owners, the serving girl, and a few patrons slowly emerging from their hiding places, relieved it was finally over.

Aemond and Daemma sheathed their weapons, covered their hair again, and set their chairs upright to sit down once more and finish their now-cold chicken. The innkeepers and the waitress began cleaning up the broken glass and debris strewn across the wooden floor.

"Thank you... You've driven those scum from my business. You can order anything you want, on the house" said the older man, placing two mugs of ale in front of them. Aemond started to refuse, but when the innkeeper insisted—saying it was a gesture of gratitude—and Daemma gladly accepted the frothy ale, he had no choice but to take it too.

After her first sips, Daemma's face contorted at the bitter taste and his cousin chuckled as he continued eating and drinking, unaffected by the strong drink.

"You shouldn't have taken the mug. It's too strong for you."

"It's a gift. I don't reject gifts" Daemma muttered between coughs. Her sharp blue gaze turned toward Aemond, who calmly ate and drank with perfect composure. A shadow of curiosity crossed her expression.

"You're not going to ask me about my fighting skills?"

"Quite the performance. I didn't expect you to act like that" said the prince with complete composure, though he noticed the confusion still lingering in her cousin's eyes. So he added. "I don't know exactly when I realized it... but I've always known. I can recognize the hands of someone who trains with weapons. I don't know if you remember, but during your brother's funeral, I had a good look at your hands."

"The funeral? You've known since then?" Daemma took deeper sips from her mug, gradually growing used to the taste.

She couldn't pretend she wasn't surprised. Her cousin had noticed her secret training for far longer than she thought. He was more perceptive than she'd ever given him credit for. Her thoughts were cut short when Aemond spoke again, his tone still neutral.

"Also... when I grabbed your hand to run from the Dragonpit, when you foolishly followed me. And I saw you training with Ser Morros while you stayed at the Red Keep."

Daemma's eyes widened slightly, and her lips parted as she tried to recall.

"But I was dressed as a squire when I trained—with my sister, Meria."

"You really think I can't recognize you just because of a squire's outfit?" Aemond scoffed, drinking his ale, face as severe as ever, though he seemed to be enjoying the memory.

Daemma fell silent. As she thought back on those moments, she kept drinking. The beer slowly stopped tasting bitter; it slid down her throat like water and the warmth it left behind began to feel pleasant.

She drained the mug and accepted a second—then a third. This, of course, didn't sit well with the prince. He tried to stop her, but she wouldn't allow it, insisting she never drank and deserved some relaxation after all the chaos.

She couldn't finish the third mug—by then, she was visibly drunk. When the innkeeper offered them more, Aemond stood up quickly. Despite the man's protests, he paid him for everything and left, dragging his cousin out by the hand. She could barely walk straight.

Once outside, Aemond looked in every direction, half-expecting the bandits to be waiting for them. But thankfully, the area was deserted. He began walking briskly along the path back to the fields where Vhagar and Auryon were resting. The sun was still high, but the long walk, followed by the flight home on dragonback, would surely mean arriving in full darkness.

Daemma stumbled along, her vision blurring, her speech thick like she had marbles in her mouth. Aemond ran a hand through his hair, not knowing what the hell to do with her now.

And yet, despite his frustration, he couldn't help but feel slightly amused. He had never seen her drunk before—not even during their siblings' wedding, Helaena and Aegon's grand feast.

❥❥❥

They'd been walking for a long while in near silence when Aemond heard the clatter of a cart approaching from behind. He didn't hesitate to try and flag it down. The driver was an extremely thin man wearing a straw hat, and he had no intention of stopping. As the cart passed, Aemond waved and called out—but the man ignored him. So the prince shouted.

"Three silver dragons!"

The words worked like magic. After a moment of hesitation, the thin man stopped and barked in a rough voice.

"Pay first, and I'll take you!"

"Fine. But don't you dare try to run."

Aemond handed him the silver, and fortunately, the man didn't flee. The prince headed to the back of the cart, relieved to find only clean hay—no filth, no pigs, nothing disgusting.

He practically lifted Daemma off the ground and tossed her into the back—not gently—then climbed in himself.

Daemma lay flat on her back, completely relaxed, while Aemond sat with his back against the wooden edge, legs stretched out. A while passed before either of them spoke. Aemond broke the silence, his eyes fixed on the landscape beyond.

"This day was awful."

"I'm glad. That was the whole point... my little revenge. And it worked out better than I thought." Her voice was still slightly slurred, but soft and amused. Meanwhile, the prince's face remained unreadable as he stared out at the horizon. The wind gently tugged at his hood as he drew a breath to continue.

"You know... today, I didn't recognize you. I never imagined I'd see you threatening someone with death, fighting, wielding a sword—though I did know you were training."

Daemma glanced over at Aemond, but he still wasn't looking at her. She sighed and kept speaking, trying to form her words calmly, without shame or regret. She looked up at the sky as the cart rolled on, still dizzy from all the drinking.

"It's strange, really... because I feel the same way about you. Sometimes, I feel like I don't know you at all."

Her mind drifted to earlier days—to her first visits to King's Landing, the time Aemond attended Naemon's funeral, and... Driftmark. Just thinking of Driftmark still made her uneasy. She kept her eyes on the bright sky above as she spoke again.

"At first, I thought of you as a reserved boy, obedient, clever... I thought you were more of a Hightower than a Targaryen. But I was wrong. You can be wild when you want to be—like when..."

She stopped. She had been about to mention Driftmark, but the words caught in her throat. Since that day, she had never spoken about it with Aemond. Not because they had discussed it and decided to avoid it, but simply because it was left untouched. She didn't want to relive it. And neither did he. But then Aemond broke the silence.

"You're right. I won't deny it... I just never thought you were the same."

"You thought I was a proper little Lady? All meek and compliant?"

"Not at all. I never thought that. I always saw your fire. But you did surprise me... when I think of you, I usually picture a calm face, a kind smile... I suppose I forgot you had courage, too. I wonder why?"

Daemma couldn't help but laugh—a sincere, light laugh that slightly softened Aemond's expression. She replied.

"I'm all those things. It's foolish to put people in boxes. I may seem fragile, polite, quiet—I know how to behave. But I still have Targaryen and Martell blood in my veins. I don't think I'm dangerous... but I'm not as weak and foolish as some believe."

Their eyes met, as if trying to understand one another on a deeper level. The prince gave a small, acknowledging nod. Then Daemma spoke again, this time with a touch of sadness in her gaze.

"You frightened me... that night. You really did. I thought you were going to kill Jace with that stone, and then come after the rest of us."

Aemond gently bit the inside of his cheek. After a moment, he responded—something Daemma hadn't expected.

"I'm not going to play the victim like they did... When I claimed Vhagar, it was the first time I ever felt like I mattered. Like I had value. For once, I wasn't last among all of you—I was first, just like that." He swallowed hard and went on, Daemma listening intently.

"It's stupid, but I never had anything against them—Jace or Luke. When we were little, I wanted to get close to them. I wanted to play. But my mother and Rhaenyra wouldn't allow it, so I accepted it and kept my distance. My mother and Ser Criston called them bastards, and I hated hearing it. I didn't even understand what the word really meant, but it sounded awful. Later, when Aegon started picking on me, they joined in. They laughed with him. For years. I pretended it didn't bother me, but deep down, the anger and frustration were always there... especially not having a dragon."

Daemma's eyes softened. She sat up beside Aemond without saying a word and he continued.

"You didn't have a dragon either—and that comforted me. I kept telling myself, 'You're not the only one. She doesn't have one either.' But then you claimed Auryon... and I felt alone again. More frustrated than ever. That's why I risked everything with Vhagar—either she'd accept me, or I'd die trying. I truly considered the possibility of dying that night... and I didn't care."

"But you won" Daemma murmured softly. "Vhagar saw something in you—and she chose you as her new rider."

The prince gave a small nod, staring down with his lips expressionless, rocked gently by the motion of the cart. 

"I gained the greatest treasure... but I lost something, too. When I saw them all gathered there, glaring at me with hatred, I became infected by it. I told myself I wouldn't stay silent anymore. The fight escalated, and no one could stop it—not even me. I don't know if I would've really killed Jace... but I won't deny the satisfaction I felt beating the boys who tormented me for so long."

"But it was too much" Daemma replied. "You broke Luke's nose—he's much younger than you. You hit Baela and Rhaena, who had just lost their mother. There was no reason to be cruel to them... and you punched my sister hard, too."

Slowly, Aemond's gaze shifted to Daemma with a mixture of confusion and hardness, but she didn't look away from him, her blue eye steady and serious. 

"Your sister... she struck me low and without warning. You might be right about the rest, but everyone went too far... you slapped me too."

"Fine, I was furious... we all were. When you get angry, it's natural to lose control... like now."

Aemond didn't understand the last remark. Daemma took her eyes off him to stare at the horizon, and he finally asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Are you talking about the inn?"

The girl said nothing, her gaze fixed ahead, her expression blank. When the prince spoke again, his voice a mix of severity and a hope to understand her better.

"You had enough confidence to think we could take on all those men, but it was reckless—too reckless, almost stupid. We could've just paid them and left it be. Why did you get so angry...? Why did you lose control?"

"Because that bitch took my ring... the ring you gave me."

Her voice choked with honesty, her eyes flashing with anger just at the memory. Something stirred inside Aemond. He was at a loss for words until he noticed Daemma still wore the ring on her right index finger. She caught his glance and spoke more calmly.

"I wouldn't have minded if she'd taken the money, the blanket, even the knife... but the first thing she ripped off me was the ring."

Several minutes passed in silence, both carried along by the constant jolts and bumps of the cart. Suddenly, Daemma put a hand over her mouth and exclaimed, breaking any tension.

"I need to vomit."

"Seven Hells! Don't you dare do it here."

❥❥❥

They finally reached their dragons. Daemma thought vomiting would make her feel better, but instead, all her strength seemed to leave with it. She barely walked, rubbing her stomach urgently, her face pale. The sun was about to set, and they knew they had to fly back home, but

"How the hell are you going to fly like that? You'll fall, die, and what's worse, I'll be the one responsible."

"Okay, okay, you've scolded me the entire way. I apologized plenty" the girl replied with a pained voice. "If there was a way to get rid of this, believe me, I'd do anything."

At her words, Aemond's expression shifted from irritation and worry to a somewhat amused smirk, and he repeated.

"Anything? Because there is a way."

"Is there?"

Her hope brightened as he simply nodded. They walked to the edge of a lake. Once they reached it, Aemond stepped forward a bit, then crouched, signaling for Daemma to do the same. The lady hesitated but stepped into the water until she reached him. He helped her lower herself and spoke calmly.

"This is what we often do with Aegon when he's had too much to drink and has to look presentable for some special occasion."

"What do I have to do? Drink the lake water?"

Daemma's curious expression flickered with a brief shiver, but Aemond calmed her by placing a hand gently on her back and moving it to the back of her neck. The touch took her breath away. She noticed him leaning close, forcing her to open her eyes wide as he whispered softly.

"Do you trust me?"

Daemma felt her cheeks burn bright red. She looked away, nervous.

"Yes... I do."

"Good... now, hold your breath."

Before she could react, Aemond's firm hand gripped her nape and pushed her head underwater. Daemma found herself submerged, confused about what was happening. Her cousin lifted her up to breathe, then pushed her down again—twice more, pulling her up and then plunging her beneath the surface one last time.

A sharp slap echoed in the air. Daemma gasped desperately, her face and hair soaked, eyes blazing with fury as she shouted.

"You son of a bitch!"

Aemond didn't respond to the slap or the insult. Instead, a smile slowly spread across his face, growing wider and wider until, for the first time in a long while, Daemma heard his laughter—choked, genuine, and above all, unexpected.

Despite the brutal method, it couldn't be denied that it worked; after that, the girl never felt drunk again.

❥❥❥

By the time Aemond returned to the Red Keep, everyone was already asleep. He strode down the Maegor's Holdfast tower hallway toward his chambers. In the dim torchlight, he noticed a dark shape sprawled on the floor and didn't even flinch as he passed by—his brother Aegon, lying drunk as a stone.

Aemond's face turned as cold as ice as he kicked him in the ribs to wake him. When Aegon groaned in pain and opened his heavy-lidded eyes to find his younger brother standing over him, he let out a drunken chuckle through clenched teeth and, still lying on his back, said.

"Brother... what a rude way to wake someone."

"Crawl back to your chambers and sleep there."

With that, Aemond didn't want to hear any more and kept walking until Aegon's voice echoed behind him.

"What the hell are you doing at this hour? Isn't it morning yet, or is it...? Oh, I did hear you flew Vhagar this morning. Just got back?"

Aemond stopped and looked over his shoulder at his brother with a stoic expression.

"What I do isn't your concern."

"A date? Were you with a woman, brother?" the Queen's eldest teased, dragging himself on the floor, struggling in vain to stand.

Aemond only thought of everything that had happened and couldn't manage even a smile his older brother wouldn't see. He resumed his long strides toward his chambers, answering with a detached tone. 

"No, that wasn't a date. It was a disaster."

[cathy-histories]

HATE ME

Pairing: Jinx/female reader, Jinx/original character

Synopsis: Two broken girls under different circumstances. Jinx and Circe knew each other since childhood, but never liked each other, nowadays they both hate each other and enjoy their constant fights and arguments. If either of them were to develop romantic feelings.... they would never say so.

W.c: 3.3k

A/n: Hello, I hope you like my first publication! English is not my first language so I apologize if you see mistakes and feel free to point them out to me, comment all you want to let me know your impressions <3, I'll be there to answer you.

If you want more stories between jinx and circe let me know in comments, remember that now jinx owes her a date. 😏💖

---

The streets of Zaun were exactly the same. The constant twilight clung to every corner of the endless space. The natural light barely filtered through the structures of rusted metals and the industrial pipes towering above the heads of the people, casting a scene that was abandoned and unhealthy.

Jinx's robust black boots slid lazily. She wore a black hooded blanket, hiding her identity from the locals who immediately recognized her. Lately, she hated going out; she would have preferred staying at home setting up new explosive devices for Silco, but he had personally asked her to go see that girl she despised.

The girl hummed a song softly. She expected some action on the way, some idiot trying to stop her and start a fight, but this didn't happen, so she sighed in frustration and theatrically kicked open the rotten wooden door. The door easily moved and fell sideways with a dull thud, while the blue-haired girl let out a mischievous laugh.

"Oops, and I barely used any strength... what a piece of junk" she said, stepping into the dark place and removing her hood to release her long braids that fell behind her back. The girl, sitting a few meters away, used a candle to light a book she was reading on a long wooden counter, barely reacting. Her golden eyes landed on the intruder, and she emitted a half-surprised, half-recognizing groan.

"The crazy one with the braids" she whispered, and in just a few seconds, Jinx was already in front of her, putting her butt near the girl's face as she sat down on the table without permission, wearing a mischievous smile.

"The crazy one with the medicine... Silco wants the usual, Ciri Ciri... so be a good girl and hurry up, because I've got a rocket launcher to make. There are a lot of enforcers to blow up into pieces."

"Don't call me Ciri Ciri. And pay for the door before I shove one of your rockets up your ass" muttered the purple-haired girl in a dull tone, before putting down the book and grabbing the candle to head to the back of the house.

"It's your fault, you should get something better than that rotten wood. What will you do when someone tries to steal your work?" Jinx asked with a false tone of pity as she spun on the table to sit with her legs bent, raising her hands and admiring her painted nails. "Got anything to keep the dye from coming off so easily?"

"Sure, first you pour gasoline all over your hand and then light a match... that makes the polish stick" replied the girl, emerging with a square cardboard box in her hands, and the blue-haired girl burst out laughing.

"Thanks for the advice, Ciri Ciri... I will gladly follow in those footsteps with you close by my side to make us dust." 

"I told you not to call me that" repeated the girl with golden eyes, while she placed the box on the table with indifference, and Jinx now eagerly began to check the contents like an excited child, humming a nursery rhyme.

Medicines, potions, antibiotics, healing agents, and some substances that Silco's adoptive daughter had no idea what they were, but they were on the list, so that was fine for now.

"Have you been using more of that shit?" Circe asked while playing with a strand of her straight hair, not looking directly at her.

"You worried about me? How sweet... I'd kiss you, but I don't want you to fall in love with me, it's such a hassle having so many at my feet" the blue-haired girl laughed playfully, adding a touch of gravity to her tone, trying to sound sensual at the same time.

Circe let go of the strand of hair to look at those eyes that shone amidst the bluish-gray irises, but the dark circles under her skin, which was becoming more pale and almost sickly every day, didn't fool her, so the purple-haired girl laughed.

"You look worse than ever, so don't brag. Are you really Silco's adopted daughter?... because every day you look more like him physically... worn out, skinny, and with a sucked-in face... soon you'll be a skeleton."

"At least I get delicious food from Piltover and have a cool room, while you have to keep living in this hole like the insignificant poor thing you are, eating garbage" Jinx shot back. This was how it always went; once they started, they didn't stop.

"At least I haven't lost my mind or become a psychopathic killer who doesn't even know where she's standing."

"At least I have a father, unlike you, who's completely alone" Jinx smiled, knowing she had hit a very sensitive spot, and a grimace curved on Circe's lips.

"Oh, you have three fathers, don't you, Jinx? Which one do you brag about? The one the enforcers killed, the one you killed, or the one who took you in because he felt sorry for how pathetic you are to keep you as his bitch?"

Then the punch hit the purple-haired girl with enough force to break her jaw. Circe fell backward, and Jinx's gloved hand grabbed her by the neck, lifting her up and pressing the gun she had at her side to the side of her head.

She would kill her, Jinx would. All the pain and rage that had crossed her disturbed mind began to fade at the thought of erasing this girl from existence, a girl she had never tolerated, not even in her childhood, when they stared at each other and Vi invited her to join her group, but she always refused, believing that she was something special when she was just trash like everyone else in the suburban district.

She thought Circe, who was bleeding from the mouth and breathing heavily, would beg her. A cruel smile appeared on the braid-haired girl's face in anticipation, but she didn't get that. The purple-haired girl held her gaze coldly, with that expression of emptiness and resistance that made her furious.

Her index finger was on the trigger, but then Sevika's large hand pushed her just in time, and the bullet hit only a wall.

"What are you doing? You can't kill her. Silco needs the medicine she gives us."

"Another apothecary can be found... because this one is already dead" Jinx was about to shoot again, but Sevika insisted she leave her alone, grabbing her arm and practically dragging her away. The muscular woman with brown skin carried the box on one shoulder and, with her other hand, was dragging the furious girl.

Circe stood up from the floor and looked at Jinx, forming a defiant expression in her eyes, while blood dripped from her mouth down to her chin. 

"Go to your father... go to your master who whistles for you, like the trained dog you are" she whispered. She would have shouted that, she would have done it, fully aware that it would be the final nail in her coffin, but her tone deflated, leaving only a murmur.

Even she didn't know why they provoked each other to the brink of collapse. Circe didn't fear death, nor violence; she had seen too much of it to reject it. She had welcomed it with open arms, like every inhabitant born into this hell.

Perhaps deep down, she longed for it... for someone to kill her and put an end to her life, which lacked meaning beyond serving a man who barely cared for her. But she was obligated to do it, because otherwise, she'd be labeled a traitor. And Circe could be whatever she wanted: a bitch who couldn't shut up, an experienced apothecary who learned medicine and pharmacology from her dead parents, a girl who didn't know how to fight but didn't tremble in the face of blood... but a traitor, never.

That was what anchored her to life... the illusion that her existence still had value. And maybe that's why... she didn't want to die yet.

...

Jinx argued with Silco, who forbade her from killing the girl who was useful to him, and she, frustrated, unloaded that anger on the poor enforcers who were in the way of her plans, in the middle of yet another mission. It had been a delight to shoot them dead, every time she squeezed the trigger while nimbly dodging each burst from their weapons, knocking them down like sacks of potatoes, one by one.

Sevika scolded her for her excessive and unnecessary aggression, but what did it matter? They were enemies, and they were better off dead than alive. And she smiled, fantasizing that one of the people she had shot was Circe.

Sooner or later, she would end it her. They had known each other since childhood. She lived only a few blocks away from the home she had once known with Vi, Claggor, Mylo and Vander. She was the same age as them, but they always argued, and just the thought of looking at her gave Jinx a bad feeling. 

Though, if she dug deeper into her memories, memories perfectly blocked by the passage of time, she could swear that they did play in harmony when they were younger. They had shared food on some occasions, and she had even spent the night with them once when her parents had a violent argument, and she had slept next to the two sisters as if she were a third.

Vi always welcomed anyone in need, just like Vander... and Jinx forced herself to drown out those images, starting to talk to herself with the ghosts that haunted her mind, assuring herself that none of that had happened and that Circe was just an annoyance to eliminate.

However, if the girl with golden eyes was that... why had she kept breathing until now? How many times had she thought the same thing and still hadn't come to any conclusion? That was a mystery.

The next day, Jinx visited her old home, entering the play area where they used to gather to have fun in a warm past that felt distant on the timeline. The small space had been created by them, so everything was improvised and small. The light came in weak but welcoming, the surroundings were dirty from years of disuse; dust covered the boxes they used as tables, the worn mattresses on the floor, old toys, and the machine where Vi practiced her punches to make her fists stronger.

Jinx wandered with unsteady steps, her long braids hanging down her back, looking at everything with the weight of Circe's words entering her mind and exploding into a silent fury. But she soon looked to a corner where there were scattered newspaper pages on the floor. As she approached, she noticed scribbles and drawings made with charcoal. The blue-haired girl crouched down, her arms wrapped around her knees, her chin resting on them. Her hollow eyes were dull as she remembered that, in the past, she had drawn there. Circe had once found some stolen crayons that she had managed to get from her house, and the two of them, that time, had stopped their usual bickering and sarcasm to spend time together. Back then, the purple-haired girl had praised her drawings, and Jinx could even swear she had told her that she had a talent for art.

Jinx's thin fingers with black-painted nails touched the cover of those pages. The drawings were still partially recognizable, although the mold from the humidity had blurred and dimmed some of the details. She had always drawn her monkey bombs, at a time when she still couldn't make them explode.

Then, the abyss of her thoughts was disturbed by the sound of something. Her eyes widened with the expression of a hunter about to take down her prey, as her hands — clad in fingerless gloves — grabbed one of her two pistols and pointed it at the intruder to find Circe standing in front of her. She had her straight hair tied in a high ponytail, her bangs combed forward, but her gaze was as absent as Jinx's had been just moments ago.

"I came to apologize" she said in an indifferent tone, standing completely still with her chin held high.

Jinx's eyes dilated as she stood up to circle her like a wild animal about to capture its prey, taking a few slow steps while continuing to point the gun at her head.

"I don't forgive you"

"I don't forgive you either... Don't play the victim, you were the first to mention my father" she said without moving, showing no emotion. And this bothered the tattooed girl more: seeing someone who wasn't afraid of her. That wasn't fun.

"Are you aware of who has the weapons here, right?"

"I'll make you a proposal... I'll invite you to lunch. After that, you decide whether to kill me or not" suggested Circe, her golden eyes fixed on her former neighbor... her possible childhood friend and, lately, mortal enemy. Neither of them even knew how to name what they were.

Upon hearing that, Jinx burst into laughter. Her cackle echoed through the place as she stepped away and let herself fall onto the remnants of an improvised couch, not letting go of the gun and no longer aiming it. Now she scratched her temple with it, and against all expectations, Circe felt a slight pang of fear, worried that the crazy and stupid girl might shoot herself. It would be a ridiculous and laughable death, but either way, there was concern. Plus, the most likely outcome was that Circe was involved through no fault of her own, and Silco would kill her

"Do you want to move that thing away from your face?"

"Why?... Does it make you nervous?" this time she brought the mouth of the gun under her chin with a twisted smile "Russian roulette"

"In Russian roulette, you only put one bullet in the chamber. Yours is full, idiot"  Circe shot back, and Jinx maintained the good humor that was coming to her.

"How do you know how many bullets I have?"

There was no response. Circe rolled her eyes with a huff, and Jinx sighed before springing to her feet, lowering the weapon for now.

"i told you, I'm too refined to eat the crap from here... Besides... would that be a date?" she mocked, crossing her arms but unable to keep her feet still with her swaying, and Circe tilted her head with a smile.

"Take it however you want... just don't fall in love with me, remember, you want to kill me"

"No problem, I can fall in love and kill you later... you know I don't have a heart. I killed my own family, so why not do it to you?" the girl with gray-blue eyes insinuated with dark humor, but Circe's lips stopped curving into a smile, now showing a more serious expression.

"I already told you, I apologize for my words" she said brusquely, and Jinx burst into laughter.

"You're the least convincing person to apologize, you sound fucking fake"

"You know how I am... besides, I never apologize to anyone" she huffed with pride.

"Well, neither do I" smiled the braided one before putting her weapon back in the holster at her hip and walking alongside her, grabbing her chin that was swollen from the blow yesterday. "Alright, let's eat... let's see if you can make me like you, little vermin." 

The touch hurt the girl with the ponytail, but she endured it well while smiling at her, and they began walking together. Deep down, Circe wanted to return the insult, like she was always used to replying to everything Jinx threw at her, calling her rat, ugly, skeletal, crazy, drug addict, murderer... There was a whole arsenal of vulgar words in her mind that made her tongue itch to throw them like cobra venom, but she kept them to herself.

The bar at The Last Drop was the most appropriate place to go. Both girls sat on stools, leaning against the bar. After Vander's death and Silco's rise, the place had become darker and gloomier. The people who entered sent chills down anyone's spine, and danger was palpable everywhere.

The girls had distilled liquor alongside a plate of meat stew. They had no idea what the meat was — they usually used rats — but Circe still ate it eagerly. Jinx on the other hand, was just playing with her food, not looking at it with disgust — not that it bothered her, it always brought back memories of her past, when this was a delicacy — but she observed it with indifference as she went for the liquor.

"Rat meat... ideal for you" she whispered with a smile, but the girl with golden eyes didn't pay attention, devouring every last bit of broth from her plate.

"Really, I'm in the presence of Piltover's elite... I've seen you eat worse things, so go show off to someone else, but not with me" she said before asking for a chili soaked in vinegar, eating it like a delicacy.

"What a fucking disgust" Jinx whispered before taking another sip of liquor, "All that spicy and sour stuff will tear your stomach open."

"Well, at least I don't consume Shimmer... worry about your own health" Circe shot back after finishing it all and looking at her guest's plate, "I'm paying for this, so eat it."

"Forget it... I won't eat rat meat from the sewers when my palate has already tasted the delicacies from the city of progress... spiced meat, fish fillets, poultry... nothing like this" suddenly, Jinx grabbed the plate and spat on it. "Well... it was a nice invitation."

"You bitch" growled Circe before standing up and trying to slam the full plate into her face. Food was sacred, and the purple-haired girl wasn't going to let it go. The two struggled, and with a kick to the stomach, Jinx sent Circe flying back, the plate flying and landing on the head of a man who didn't look friendly... and he wasn't alone.

The two girls exchanged a glance before running out of there, with the gang following closely behind. The girl with yellow eyes wasn't good at running and didn't have much agility; she almost lost her balance at an intersection until she felt Jinx's hand grip her wrist, pulling her into a hole in the city wall. The space was very narrow, but Circe pressed her back against the wall while Jinx squeezed in front of her, feeling their breaths sync up. She could feel the despicable girl's body pressed against her front torso, and they looked at each other, realizing they were very close. Too close.

Before Circe could open her mouth, Jinx's hand covered it, stopping her from making any sound, while she pressed a finger to her lips with a "shh."

Circe didn't even know why she felt heat, or why they were working so hard to hide when Jinx was armed and could easily repel the gang. Yet, here they were, closer than they ever expected. And when the sound of their pursuers' heavy footsteps faded, Circe pushed Jinx away with force, getting her off as if she had burned her, not even realizing her cheeks were flushed.

"Idiot!"

"You started it... you threw the plate, food is sacred, you don't do that" the blue-haired girl excused herself with a laugh, and the other girl's hands clenched into fists at her sides.

"Why didn't you show them your weapons? They would've figured out you work for Silco."

"Because that wouldn't have been fun... instead, this... this was fun" Jinx mocked, feeling satisfaction at seeing Circe's flushed cheeks from indignation and her eyes shattered with fury. No longer did she see emptiness, she saw emotion. And with that, she felt avenged, "The invitation was great... next time, I'll invite you... see you later, Ciri Ciri."

One of Jinx's lined eyes closed in a mischievous attempt that made Circe give her a disgusted look. The silence was only broken by the adopted daughter of Silco's laugh as she walked away, and the girl with golden eyes watched her disappear into the constant mist of the city. Then she put a hand to her chest... and only at that moment did she realize.

How much her heart was beating... and she hated it. She cursed herself to the bones for it.