Fire Kept Closest

Authors: Ananya Sharma, Chloe Viviers, and Jordyn Viviers

“I can see it now.” The boy can’t help but let a mirthless laugh escape from his lips. “I was never meant to be the hero, was I?” 

When he receives no response, Daemond trains his eyes on the girl standing awkwardly by the wall. She wears a simple muted pink dress, tattered and flecked with dirt in a way no proud girl’s dress should be. The only other accessory she wears is a black cuff on her arm with a symbol of waves on it. Catryn stands completely still, so as not to provoke a sudden reaction, keeping her lips tightly pinched. 

Daemond’s previously muted expression shifts into a snarl as he lunges at the girl, who doesn’t dare so much as to flinch. 

“Was I?” he repeats in a hiss.

“Dae-”

“Answer me,” he says, trying to muster the authoritative voice he’s heard his parents use so often. Catryn puts her hand on his chest, forcing him to take a step back. Any facade of the boy’s power crumbles immediately.  

“This is your choice, Dae. Whether or not you are the hero is your choice.”

“How? It never has been before, has it? Since I left my mother’s goddamn womb, nothing has been my choice. I have always been destined for this power.”  

Daemond’s eyes glow golden. He snaps his fingers, a chaste blue flame twirling around their tips. He looks up with a cool smile, but it quickly falls as he sees Catryn’s unamused expression. 

She closes the space between herself and Daemond and leans forward. Her lips shape into an “o” as she blows harshly at his fingertips. The flame goes out, as quickly as it came.  

“Your power is in your control, Dae. You get to choose what you do with it. Your parents intended for you to rule, to take power, and to leave the country in ruins for their gain. But you were destined for more than that, I know it! You can still rule and do good with it. Please.” Catryn looks into the eyes of the boy she once knew, begging to see some remnants of him. Instead, she is met with nothing more than a cold stare.  

“No. I can’t. My coronation is tonight, and with it, the kingdom's downfall.”

In the early hours of the big coronation, Daemond’s room is filled with the sounds of the constant movement of fitful sleep. Frustrated, he turns to look at his bedside clock for the hundredth time and flops onto his back with a grunt finding it was only 4 o’clock, just 5 minutes after he last checked. 

Enough is enough, the prince slides out of his sheets hoping to find serenity in the quiet hallways of the castle and escape the stifling heat of his bedroom. Fitful nights have never been an uncommon occurrence in Daemond’s life, but last night he felt particularly restless. He hopes a walk can calm him enough to prevent his nerves from wrecking his day.

The hallways are deserted, but the stone walls of the castle’s upper east wing echo with Daemond’s footsteps.

The king-to-be chooses his favorite path for a castle stroll in hopes of clearing his mind. He makes his way through the familiar hallways, glancing at the portraits of his forefathers for strength as he walks. Only the sound of his slippers padding on the wooden floor surrounds him until he is met with a different, rather odd noise from beneath him. Hollow, almost. He taps his foot once more, then leans down to knock on the ground. The same hollow sound. Normally, Daemond would not even notice such a thing, but he knows this path better than he knows his own mother. It is safe and predictable, unlike so many other things in his life. Which is why, when Daemond glances up to see a brick just barely out of place in the wall, he can’t help but push at it. And when it barely wiggles, Daemond must throw his weight at it. What he does not expect, in doing so, is for the entire wall to give and swallow him whole, plunging him into a dark pit. His stomach drops on the fall, and he has no doubt that he’s let out what can only be categorized as a humiliating shriek.  

Luckily, the drop is not large (which makes his scream all the more humiliating, but he digresses), and the sight Daemond is met with has him rubbing at his eyes. A spacious room, cluttered with shelves on shelves of old, leather-bound books. With a flick of his wrist, he lights the torches, casting an eerie blue glow on the shelves. Daemond would normally never dare to use his powers without being directed to do so, but he doubts anyone is watching him in this abandoned room.  

Or at least, he believes it to be abandoned, until he sees the table in the corner and the peculiar book resting open on top of it. He walks over and picks up the book daintily, flipping through its worn pages. As he scans the pages that make little sense to him, a tiny slip of paper falls out, swaying to the floor. It’s ripped haphazardly at the bottom, clearly the work of someone in a rush. He immediately bends to pick it up and reads the words. When he does, he drops the paper out of shock.  

It reads, “When the fist of power burns blue, the whole world that day shall rue.”

A prophecy. Daemond looks at his fingers, apprehension shifting into him. He knows no one else who has his power, or any power at all for that matter, and certainly no one in line for the throne. Of course, Daemond is not so stupid as to trust the validity of a random crumpled slip of paper in a room he shouldn’t know about, but when he sees the seal pressed faintly to the corner of the paper, all doubt leaves his mind.

Three waves, surrounded by a circle. He knows what that means.  

“Why did you write, Dae? You said it was urgent,” Catryn says. She glances at him over her shoulder, dragging her hand over everything on the writing desk in the cramped room he had called her to.

“Would you stop touching everything?” he snaps. “I didn’t write to you. I summoned the leader of the rebels, Catryn. If I’d known that I’d see you, I would have… ” 

Catryn shakes her head and jumps on the wooden desk behind her. Her feet dangle just above the floor as she swings them like she was a child. “What would you have done, Dae? Brought a couple more weapons? An army? A talking script?” 

“I would have dressed better,” Daemond responds, the corner of his lip quirking. Catryn lets out a sharp laugh then covers her mouth with her hand, embarrassed by the sound. That comment was so like the flirty Daemond she knew. She can’t help but feel a rush of glee at having some recognition of that boy. He still has a chance.

“Seriously though, why are you here? I haven’t seen you since we were what, 16? And now you show up after I summoned the leader of the rebel group?” Daemond says letting his flirty manner drop.

“You summoned the leader.” She jumps off the desk, twirls, and extends her arms.. “Here I am.”   

Daemond chuckles at the ground unsurprised. Cat always had a dream to lead something, but he didn’t quite expect it to be the very group that had been counteracting every plan his family had set in motion for the past 10 years. 

Once he remembers what they were talking about before they got distracted, the prince straightens his back and scolds his expression back into neutrality. This is no time for fun reunions. The fate of the kingdom may very well depend on the answers Cat would give him. She would give him those answers, or he’d have to make her. 

Daemond turns, and he begins in front of his long-lost friend. He couldn’t look in those eyes any longer without breaking. Still, he can tell Cat is watching him.  

Before speaking he glances at the closed door in the corner, hoping that the staff followed his orders in leaving the connecting grand hall. After a long pause, Daemond finally mumbles the words he had been staring at all day. He speaks softly, but it's just loud enough for her to hear. “When the fist of power burns blue, the whole world that day shall rue.” Daemond stops and turns his head slightly to see Catryn’s reaction. To his distaste, she seems more confused than he’s been. 

“I’m sorry, repeat?” she says. 

With more conviction this time, staring into the Cat’s eyes, he repeats, “When the fist of power burns blue, the whole world that day shall rue.”

“Right,” she says. She steps back, making him realize how close they had gotten. “You know Dae, I never took you for a poet. Then again, you always were rather in touch with your feelings for a prince,” she chuckles, almost mocking him. 

“Don’t laugh at me Catryn, this isn’t a joke. It’s not poetry, it’s a goddamn prophecy with your godforsaken cult’s seal, practically confirming that as soon as my ass sits itself down on that throne, all hell will break loose. You must know something about it.”  

Recognition suddenly flashes over Cat’s features, but she hides it quickly with a sad smile. She again steps closer to the prince, her friend. “It’s always been Cat to you, Dae. Just Cat.” In a last ditch effort to calm him, to get Daemond on her side, she even adds, “Your Cat. Stop this talk of prophecies, Dae. How you rule is your choice, and I won’t let some stupid prophecy let you forget it.” She pauses for a second at his unconvinced face. “Look, all royals are given prophecies at birth. Your parents must have known, but the person a prophecy about isn’t supposed to know about it. Dae, I think they want the downfall of the kingdom. I wouldn’t put it past them; that’s why our rebel group exists. They’ve always wanted to use you as their puppet so that they could finally reclaim the kingdom! Using you, they could finally earn the respect of the people. Your parents used to be feared. Now, they are nothing, and they know it. Still, they ache for power, they need it. They need the burn of power as an addict begs for the intoxication of their first high. But it will never come again, not to them, not like this. But you, my dear Daemond. I know you can make change for the better. You can make this kingdom what it once was, and the people will love you for the right reasons. I know it hasn't always been your choice before, and after today it may never be again, but right now, today, you do have a choice to make. To hell with the prophecy, this is up to you.”  

At first, Daemond does not react at all. He wants to be angry about the way Cat spoke of his parents, but part of him was also touched. He hadn’t realized how much Cat had supported him and would always support him. She always believed in him, even now. Even when there are other forces at work than just the two of them. Without thinking much, he moves forward into her–that’s how it is between them, a constant push and pull like the moon and the earth–and collapses into her arms. He buries his face in the fabric of her dress, and relays in a rather muffled voice: “I’ve missed you.” At this, he lifts his head. “And as charming as your disregard for divination is, I’m afraid prophecies have this horrible habit of coming true.” Reluctantly, he steps away. 

Cat grows frantic. She couldn't let all that she's worked for, all the convincing that she did, be for nothing.  

“What if I did know something? I’ve been told not to reveal any more to you by the council, but they work under me anyways.” Daemond simply quirks his eyebrow while Cat scrambles across the room, sifting through papers on a nearby desk drawer almost hysterically. She finally gets hold of a crumpled slip of paper, ripped at the top, and she holds it up for him to see.  

“When did that get in there?” he asks. That was his desk. 

“I have my ways.” She begins reading: “On the dawn of the fiery prince, a decision shall commence. A decision! Your decision, it’s what I told you Dae!”

Daemond paues, contemplating for a second before he reaches into his too tight black vest, the one he hates but is still forced to wear, and pulls the other piece of the prophecy from the pocket. He walks over to the desk where Cat is now standing and puts his hand out. She hands him the small slip and he aligns them one after the other on the table. 

In utter disbelief, he says, “It’s the second line of the prophecy.” 

“No Dae, it’s just a random piece of paper that fits perfectly with the most important prophecy of your life.” He ignores her. He never could get used to her flippant sarcasm in serious situations.  

 “I really do have a choice, don't I?” Daemond says.

“I told you, you idiot. I think it would do you well to not question the girl who is insanely wise, intelligent, always right–”

“And always beautiful,” he finishes for her. Her cheeks take up a tinge of red once he speaks. Suddenly, an idea strikes his mind. The prince takes Cat’s hand, and he leads her to one of the connecting rooms. The throne room.

Daemond had ordered the throne room to be cleared as soon as he wrote to the rebel group. It was an odd request for the day of the coronation, but no one dared to argue with the prince. “Remember this place?”

“How could I forget, this is the place you broke your arm tripping on that rug,” she says pointing to the one rug Daemond hates with a passion. “Twice.”

He can’t help but chuckle, “I was actually thinking about the time we snuck in here together. What were we, 15? You told me that you hated me and then you kissed me.” 

“Biggest mistake of my life,” she laughs, pulling away, but he pulls her back in, leaving them forehead to forehead. Push and pull, moon and earth. 

“You didn’t think you could just show up after 10 years and not reignite this, did you?” He teases, a real smile now able to form on his face. 

She chuckles, “Well, you aren’t as irresistible as you think, Dae.” Catryn pauses, Daemond can feel her shoulders tense under his touch. They lock eyes, but Dae only sees hesitation.

 “There’s one more thing. It doesn’t change anything, but you deserve to know the full truth.” She looks at Daemond, but he only waits silently.  

“The fate of us all rests in the hands of the antithetical girl.” Before the prince can express his confusion, Catryn looks down at her hands that are now in between the two of their bodies. He follows her gaze and understands right away. Hovering over her palms is true water, forming three waves surrounded by a circle. Suspended in the air.  

“I wanted to tell you, I did, but I couldn’t until I knew you were on our side,” she says. She looks at him, blue eyes staring into Daemond’s soul, but his only stay on the water. In them is the reflection of the waves, their undulations mesmerizing. “I guess the saying really is true. Opposites attract.” She shrugs and gives him a charming smile. “We were meant for each other, Dae. You and me against the world remember? Just like when we were kids.” The waves disappear as Daemond takes a tiny step back.

Daemond feels an ache in his stomach. The gods really must be having a laugh at the placement of the polar opposites in the same place at the same time. Destined to fall in love. He hopes they’re all choking on their own spit wherever they are. 

His mind flashes with images of him and Cat laughing in the nursery without a care in the world. But then he sees his parents. They hold his hand when he falls. His mother presses his head with a cold cloth when he’s sick. The moments were rare, but they were there. How can he turn his back on them? And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to look away from Cat’s face. His thoughts wrestle in his brain. She’s the only one who can stop him. She’s the only one who can love him.  

Daemond pulls her into him once more, and he lets Cat rest her head on his chest. He lowers his mouth to her ear, and whispers, “My dearest Cat, I can see it now,” he says. As he speaks, he brings something shiny out of his pocket.

“Dae–” Cat says, voice breaking.  

“--This is my choice.” A single tear spills. A final sound escapes from Catryn’s mouth, a gasp, reaching for air. He lets go, and she falls to the ground. 

His father’s dagger is still lodged in the middle of her chest. 

The prince takes one last look at the girl, her face forever frozen in youth. He turns and walks across the room to the ornamental throne. He takes a deep breath. He sits. The trail of that lonely tear still glistening on his face. 

“I choose to be the villain.”