2Dawn Arises.
He had committed an unforgivable crime—one that could not easily be forgiven. She had given him his freedom, and in return, he had stolen her heart; for what was a warrior without his Queen?
Daenerys x Original Male Character pairing.
Disclaimer: I am not associated with the author of A Song of Ice and Fire, nor am I related to anything or anyone belonging to said franchise. I merely own my imagination and characters.
As you might have guessed it, I picture Geralt (not as original as I intended it to be) as Henry Cavill, more specifically as none other than the Butcher of Blaviken.
The first chapter will introduce my character, and from then it will span throughout the first season onwards. I really hope you will all enjoy reading this, just as much as I enjoy writing it. I am going to use a lot of Witcher lore, so in retrospect, this in true terms, is a crossover.
But without further ado, enjoy.
Chapter I.
Fire.
It coursed through her withering form, rendering her comatose to the pain igniting within her. Like a serpent, the fear gnawing at her soul was unlike any form of despair she had experienced before, and though memories reminded her that this was what she had yearned for, a small part of her wondered whether death would grant her the salvation she needed.
Never had she imagined giving birth to a child of her own would hurt so much, and with no one but her own conscious mind and the whisper of death in her thoughts, salvation was most likely not to arrive any time sooner.
Her husband, may his soul rest in peace, had perished in Robert's Rebellion, and despite his sacrifice, Freya Drăcul knew peace would never reside within her heart, not until she provided him with an heir—a son he so desperately yearned for.
Her husband, Vlad, III of his name, and Lord of House Drăculești, was a well respected and feared man throughout the known world, his caring nature to his family and brethren respected , as well as his keen intellect for battle strategies and master swordsmanship marking him as one of Westeros's greatest Lords and Generals.
He remained loyal to House Targaryen, just as his forefathers before him—despite possessing enough power to overthrow them. It caused a bitter hatred to grow within her gut, breathing in and out with each contraction coursing through her body.
Death had granted her what she had wanted, and in return, a sacrifice was needed—a price most would deem maddening to pay. Black Magic was something her ancestors revelled in, Necromancy being her most skilled tactic.
Summoning the ashes of a forgotten past, Freya Drăcul had succeeded at summoning the long deceased beast from his slumber—the Lernaean Hydra, only then to restore her strength for what was to come, by carving out its heart and devouring it.
Her skill in Necromancy had allowed her to summon the dark magic needed to revive her husband, long enough to bind him to the growing child within her womb—living proof that Death was not as cruel as the world depicted him to be. It went against her morals, her mind torn asunder whether she had done the right thing or not. Guilt gnawed at her gut, knowing that she had tortured her husbands soul, one that now knew a peace she could only dream of.
And yet as another contraction rendered her motionless, Freya found herself reminiscing memories long since buried. The humid air surrounding her was enough reminder that when it came to collecting what was his, the Unknown would not be far behind.
Death was certain, a promise that indeed, salvation was near. Was it all worth it? Making a pact with a God that had the ability to take away the very thing that gave her meaning in life. "Vlad, please forgive me." She had fled in fear the moment she had received word of the Mad King's death, betrayed by none other than his own trusted Knight, a man who had taken an oath to protect the throne and whoever sat upon it, Jaime Lannister.
It did not come as a surprise, though the brutal murder of Princess Ellia and her children gave Freya enough pause to reconsider her decisions, knowing that she would never be able to run from the demons nipping at her heels.
Sailing beyond the Sunset Sea, Mythos awaited her—the only place Freya knew she and her unborn son would be safe.
Mythos, a continent shrouded in mystery, unseen to those who sought to conquer all, was her homeland—a world hidden in plain sight; one which she had not seen since her betrothal and marriage to Vlad. Her mother had foretold her father of what destiny awaited Freya beyond the mist, and never one to disobey the Gods, had sailed to Essos where certain steps had to be taken before the Vlad Drăcul came to learn of her existence.
But Freya had known that happiness and tranquillity would not await her once she arrived—her parents had perished , and with it, the Kingdom was now nothing more than ruins.
And yet it was home. "Just one more push." And so Freya Drăcul had given one last push, her heart shuddering to a stop the moment her eyes befell the squirming and bloodied form of her son.
A sob was all that was needed, and Death descended like a ravenous beast pouncing on its prey.
After all, her little Geralt was meant to be the one the world would soon know as the White Wolf; the Prince who was Promised.
Author Note; There is so much to explore with the entire storyline surrounding the multiple theories of the Prince who was Promised. This chapter might sound confusing, but as more will be revealed, I hope this has tickled your tastebuds somewhat. A lot of characters and names mentioned do not belong to me, but as my mind juggles with ideas on what to write, I just decided to mash everything together and this is what came out.
Please drop your thoughts in the review section, and I will include a small snippet of what to expect.
But here is a small spoiler;
Breathless.
The walls were caving in, surrounding her with little options on which direction she needed to take—and yet no matter the severity of what she had just done dawned on her.
This man had stolen something precious and sacred from her, a crime that deserved a fitting punishment, and the consequences were truly horrifying.
All her life she had wanted only one thing, and now that it was in her grasp, doubt prickled at her mind. Was she truly willing to throw it all away? For a man who made her heart beat both slow and faster than humanly possible, her lungs collapse under sheer wanton need, and her mind a complete mess.
No. He did not steal it from her, after all, it was she who had given it to him.
This man had the power to break her into a pile of burnt ashes—and despite her fear for the Unknown, could not bring herself to hate him.