31 Chapter 29 - The Prophecy

276 AC

Daemon Pov

"Fuck , Fuck" ,the words echoed in my mind like a relentless drumbeat, each syllable dripping with dread. "Why won't it just go away?" I pleaded with the empty room, my voice trembling as I scrubbed furiously at the stains on my hands, as though by erasing the evidence, I could erase the memory.

"She was just an old, mad... woman," I choked out, the words tasting bitter and hollow on my tongue. "She doesn't know what she was saying." But the image of her face, contorted with fear and fury, refused to fade, haunting every corner of my mind.

My heart raced like a panicked animal, thudding against my ribs as if it too sought escape from the nightmare that had become my reality. "Why am I losing control?" I whimpered, my fingers tangling in my hair as I fought to hold onto some semblance of sanity amidst the chaos.

And then, as if summoned by my own torment, her voice pierced the suffocating silence from behind me. "Death and destruction you will bring to all," she hissed, the words laced with a chilling certainty that froze the blood in my veins.

I spun around, my breath catching in my throat as I faced the specter of my own guilt. "No," I gasped, but it was too late. In the dim light, I saw the glint of steel, the cold edge of her knife slicing through the air like a viper's strike.

And then... darkness.

A primal scream tore through the stillness of the night, wrenching me violently from the grip of sleep. I jolted upright, drenched in a cold sweat, my heart pounding against my chest like a battering ram. The events of the night before flooded back with a sickening clarity, each detail etched into my mind like a grotesque tableau of horror.

I clutched at my chest, half expecting to feel the searing pain of the blade tearing through flesh, but there was nothing. Only the steady rhythm of my own pulse, a relentless reminder of the nightmare that had actually happened.

I stumbled towards the icy embrace of the bath, craving the numbing chill to quell the relentless tide of dread that threatened to engulf me. With each step, the water seemed to beckon, promising relief from the suffocating weight of my thoughts.

But all too soon, the chill began to lose its grip, and with a heavy sigh, I dragged myself from the water, feeling the weight of reality settle back upon my shoulders like a suffocating cloak.

Determined to quell the gnawing hunger that clawed at my insides, I made my way towards the hall. As I entered, the room was alive with the bustle of knights and lords from noble houses,

As I made my way towards the high table, the weight of my own unease bore down upon me like a leaden cloak. Stannis fell into step beside me, his concern palpable in the furrow of his brow.

"Daemon, are you well?" His voice, though gentle, cut through the haze of my thoughts, but I offered no response, my gaze fixed resolutely ahead.

"Daemon!" Oberyn's exuberant voice pierced the air, his arm slung casually over my shoulder. Despite his cheerful demeanor, I couldn't shake the feeling of dread that coiled like a serpent in the pit of my stomach.

"I had quite the busy night, my friend," he remarked with a smug grin, but my silence seemed to dampen his spirits. The smile faded from Oberyn's face, replaced by a furrow of concern.

"Don't worry about the squires' melee, Daemon," he reassured me, his voice tinged with genuine warmth. "You will win it." His words carried a weight of expectation, a reminder of the looming event that would showcase my strength in front of the Seven kingdoms.

But beneath his words of encouragement, I sensed a foreboding presence, a whisper of doubt that lingered on the edge of my consciousness. Maggy's haunting prophecy echoed in the recesses of my mind, her words a chilling reminder of the darkness that threatened to consume me.

"Rivers of blood will flow," her ominous voice seemed to echo through the chambers of my mind, a relentless refrain that sent a shiver racing down my spine. I shook my head, trying to banish the specter of her words, but the chill of her prophecy lingered like a shadow.

"Daemon," my younger brother's voice pierced the air as his arms enveloped me in a tight embrace.

"What took you so long?" he questioned eagerly, his impatience evident.

"Daeron, do not trouble your brother," Mother's admonishment followed swiftly.

Reluctantly, I tore myself away from my brother's embrace and settled beside Mother, her violet eyes fixed upon me with a penetrating gaze.

"What would you like to eat?" she inquired, her voice tinged with concern, but all I could hear was the echo of Maggy's ominous prophecy.

"And then the golden beast will turn on the dragons themselves and kill the dragoness," Maggy's haunting voice resonated in my mind, drowning out all other sounds.

"No," I murmured softly, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Daemon," Mother's voice cut through my turmoil, her eyes reflecting her worry as she regarded me, and I realized with a start that tears were streaming down my face, betraying the fear and anxiety that gripped my soul.

"I'm sorry, Mother," I whispered hastily, rising from the table and fleeing the hall in a rush.

As I reached the solitude of my chamber, I collapsed onto the floor, consumed by a maelstrom of conflicting emotions.

"What's happening to me?" I pondered, my thoughts swirling in a tumultuous storm of confusion and fear.

My emotions seemed to spiral out of control, plunging me into a dark abyss of unpredictability. I found myself lashing out recklessly, hurling insults at Rhaegar and his companions with little regard for consequence.

Yet, with Daeron, I was gentle and compassionate, my actions cloaked in a facade of kindness.

"I will always be there for you, Rhaegar," a distant memory echoed in the recesses of my mind, but its significance remained elusive, obscured by the shadows of doubt and insecurity.

"Was it because he called me a bastard back in Dorne?" I wondered aloud, the memory igniting a fiery rage within me.

In that moment, my anger surged to unprecedented heights, a tempest of fury raging within my soul.

"The vitriol and hate inside the beast will unleash a tempest upon the woodland creatures, and the entirety of Westeros will be engulfed in flames," Maggy's voice echoed ominously, her words dripping with foreboding.

 ---------

A day before

I slipped into the dark green tent with a tall peaked roof on the outskirts of Lannisport, where Maggy the Frog resided. A hood concealed my hair, allowing me to move unnoticed from the Rock.

Inside, an eerie light cast unsettling shadows across the dilapidated interior. Rickety chairs creaked beneath my weight as I approached, my gaze fixed on the old woman seated across from me. Her hair had turned white, and her back was hunched with age.

Her crusty yellow eyes met mine as I entered, and a shiver ran down my spine.

"Sit," she commanded in an accented voice, her toothless mouth forming the words.

"I hear that you can tell a person's future," I remarked, a smirk playing on my lips.

"I can," she affirmed, her gaze guarded.

"So, how much blood do you need?" I inquired with a practiced smile.

"I do not do it for free," the old woman croaked.

"Take this then," I replied, tossing her my golden ring adorned with a dragon.

Her eyes lit up at the sight, and then she studied me intently.

"Who are you?" she questioned.

With a flourish, I removed my hood.

"You are in the presence of Prince Daemon," I announced with a smug grin.

Her demeanor faltered momentarily, and then she lit a candle, its scent more foul than anything I had ever encountered. With a twisted iron dagger, she pricked my thumb, drawing forth a few drops of blood. She then added them to a cup, which she drank from.

The atmosphere grew charged with anticipation as I awaited her prophecy, the air heavy with the promise of revelations to come.

As the moments stretched into uncomfortable silence, I shifted uneasily, feeling the weight of anticipation pressing down upon me.

"Oi, you didn't drop dead, did you?" I quipped nervously, attempting to break the tension. I reached out to shake her, but before I could make contact, her eyes snapped open, and a look of horror flashed across her face.

"Took you long enough," I muttered under my breath, suppressing a shiver as her gaze bore into mine.

"So, tell me, what awaits my future?" I demanded, my voice tinged with impatience and apprehension.

"I see a prophecy, a vision of doom and despair that shall come to pass if heed is not taken," Maggy's voice echoed ominously, her gaze piercing through the darkness with an otherworldly intensity. "I see an abomination, born of fire, blood, and gold. It shall emerge from the depths of darkness, wreaking havoc upon the lands of the Seven Kingdoms."

Her words hung heavy in the air, chilling me to the bone as I listened, my heart pounding in my chest.

"This beast shall massacre the people of the realm, devouring them whole, along with the other woodland creatures, until it is sated with blood and flesh," she continued, her voice a haunting melody of impending doom.

"The vitriol and hate inside the beast will unleash a tempest upon the woodland creatures, and the entirety of Westeros will be engulfed in flames," she prophesied, each word dripping with foreboding.

"Rivers of blood will flow," she declared, her voice a macabre whisper that sent shivers down my spine.

"And once the beast is done with the woodland creatures, it will turn on the dragons themselves," she added, her words sending a chill down my spine.

"And then the golden beast will kill the dragoness as well," she concluded, her voice laden with resignation.

I felt a wave of dizziness wash over me, my vision blurring as I struggled to stay conscious in the face of such darkness.

"Death and destruction this beast will bring, and no one can stop it once it starts its rampage," she warned, her words a grim prophecy of the horrors to come.

But as she rose from her chair, knife in hand, a surge of adrenaline coursed through my veins. With a desperate lunge, I managed to wrestle the weapon from her grasp, the metallic tang of blood filling the air as the struggle ensued.

"Lies!" I screamed, my voice echoing off the walls of the tent. "You speak nothing but lies!"

In a frenzy of rage and desperation, I plunged the butt of the dagger into her head, with a sickening squelch.

"Tell me it was all a lie!" I demanded, but she only smiled, resignation in her eyes.

"The prophecy will come to pass," she whispered, her voice barely a breath. And before she could utter another word, I silenced her forever, the blade of the dagger slicing through her throat with a final, fatal blow.

As I fled the tent, the echoes of her words haunted me, a chilling reminder of the darkness that lurked within the depths of the future.