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    Summary

    “I know it is difficult but, I also know you to be a capable, brave boy. You will honor me, will you not, with your prudence and your obedience in the Gods’ eyes.”

    When Lord Ormund begins stroking the back of his head, that kind sword-calloused hand weakening his legs with every caress, sending pleasant tingles down his back, Daeron thinks This is safety, here in my lord’s arms, and he will not give me up to a man who wouldn’t say a kind word to me. His head sinks into the fine silken doublet, smothering his tears and taking heart from the affection he’s always longed and prayed for.

    “Yes, sire,” he says, his organs shuddery, his heart a sparrow slamming its body desperately inside the prison-slats of his chest.

    *

    Or, when Lord Ormund receives word of Aemond Targaryen's death, he takes it upon himself (and Daeron) to secure the Iron Throne. Daeron will do whatever he can to please, even if it means he is to be wedded to a man of his sire's choosing. Even if that man ends up being Lord Ormund himself.

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