Chapter Text
‘Leave us,’ Daemon said as soon as he walked into a tent. For all intents and purposes, it was a medical tent, set up specifically to tend to the injuries of all the unlucky participants of a tourney.
Actually, it was one of many which allowed for at least some privacy to those who were of more… noble upbringing. Daemon walked past a few tents for less fortunate souls, packed to the brim. That was not a pretty sight.
Maester, who was tending to the injured, hesitated for a second but then nodded and left without saying a word. Daemon took a step back, allowing the maester to leave, and then said, ‘I wouldn't trust those fuckers with anything, let alone tending to your injuries.’
Gwayne huffed, sitting on the stool and holding some fabric to the side of his head, trying to stop the bleeding.
‘I don't have much of a choice, do I?’ he said, looking somewhere at the floor. He was out of his armor, now only wearing trousers and a shirt that had a few splotches of blood on it.
‘You do have a choice, actually-’
‘Why are you here?’ Gwayne snapped his gaze at him, not allowing Daemon to finish the sentence. He looked angry. He had every right to be.
Daemon sighed and came closer, ‘I came to apologize.’
‘Really?’ Gwayne made a distrustful face.
‘Yes, really,’ Daemon said in a mocking tone.
‘You are not very good at it,’ Gwayne pointed out, but, to Daemon’s relief, he didn't look so pissed anymore.
‘I should chastise you for disrespecting your Lord Commander, but…’ Daemon carefully removed Gwayne's hand from his head to look at the wound. Gwayne let him. ‘This time I shall turn a blind eye.’
Gwayne snorted, then grimaced in pain. His whole head was throbbing like crazy: he had taken quite a fall.
‘How generous of you.’
‘Are you being a brat on purpose?’
‘Mh,’ Gwayne made a sound, moving one of his shoulders as if shrugging.
Daemon rolled his eyes and then said, ‘You need stitches.’
‘Then you will have to call the maester back.’
‘Ha, no, thank you. Not letting him touch you,’ Daemon said all too casually, reaching out for the needle and a thread.
Gwayne blinked at him. ‘Are you sure?’ he asked.
Daemon was glad that he didn't outright say “no”.
‘Yes! I know how to put on basic stitches!’ he exclaimed. He sounded almost offended. ‘I know how to treat basic colds and injuries too, thank you very much.’
Gwayne squinted his eyes at him, so Daemon said, ‘Don't worry, I'll leave you as pretty as I took you.’
Gwayne let out a sudden laugh, ‘You are terrible.’
Daemon smiled too, then put a thread through the needle's eye. ‘May I?’
‘Yeah… yeah, go on,’ Gwayne agreed, wiping the blood from his cheek with a towel.
Daemon furrowed his brows as he concentrated, and Gwayne tried to focus on that instead of the stabbing pain of the needle piercing his skin. He almost zoned out when he was brought back by Daemon's words.
‘I shouldn't have picked you,’ he said. ‘For the duel, I mean.’
‘That's alright,’ Gwayne said because what else could he say? It was a tourney; they were both participating. It was what they were supposed to do.
Daemon shook his head a little as the needle pierced Gwayne's skin again.
‘No, it's not.’
‘You won fair and square.’
‘Still, I shouldn’t have picked you. I knew I would win. You gave a decent fight, but I have quite a few more years of experience than you. Not trying to be mean, but you didn't stand a chance. I should have let you try your skills against someone else.’
Gwayne looked up at Daemon, ‘Then why didn't you?’
Daemon shrugged, tying the thread and cutting the rest off, ‘I am a jealous man. Also, your father was pissing me off.’
Gwayne let out a laugh, ‘In that you are not alone.’
Daemon reached out for the bandages to wrap around Gwayne's head. Stitches were a good thing, but it was better not to leave them in the open like that.
‘Did you win?’ Gwayne asked curiously. As he became indisposed quite early in the tourney, he didn't know how everything ended.
‘I did not,’ Daemon scowled almost involuntarily but then sighed, ‘Perhaps it is some divine rebuttal for my reckless behavior,’ he secured the bandage around Gwayne's head and put it away. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Like I was knocked off a horse,’ Gwayne answered, but when Daemon gave him an unimpressed look, added, ‘I'm fine. Just a terrible headache and a few bruises. I shall live.’
‘I will hold you to it,’ Daemon said, picking up the cloth and wiping the rest of the blood away from Gwayne's face. Just as before, Gwayne let him do so without any complaint.
‘Who won the tourney?’
‘Ugh… a guy from House Cole. Um… Crispin? Criston? I’m not sure.’
Gwayne frowned, ‘Who?’
‘Right?! Some nobody who came out of nowhere. Plays dirty too,’ Daemon frowned. ‘I don't like him.’
‘Is it your bruised ego talking?’ Gwayne asked with a smirk.
‘...maybe.’
‘Alright, well… I'm all good; you stitched me up, so no need to feel guilty. You can go, Lord Commander,’ Gwayne said, catching Daemon’s hand that moved down from his face and now was wiping the blood from his neck.
‘You want me to leave?’
There was a pause.
‘...not really.’
‘Then shut up and enjoy being pampered. I do not do that very often.’
‘Liar,’ Gwayne muttered quietly just as Daemon leaned forward to leave a kiss on the uninjured side of Gwayne's forehead. Then there was a kiss on his temple, then his cheek, and finally Daemon’s lips met his.
Sleeping with your Lord Commander was not the best course of action. Neither for his standing, nor for his career. Gwayne was very aware of that, but he also didn't give a fuck. There was always a rebellious spirit in him, the spirit that his father oh so hated, so when Daemon Targaryen - not only the prince and current heir to the Iron Throne but also his father's biggest rival - showed his interest in him, Gwayne didn't turn him down.
And then he ended up liking it more than he was willing to admit.
His head did stop throbbing quite so relentlessly as Daemon kept kissing him. He was unusually gentle, most likely mindful of the wound, and Gwayne allowed himself to drown in that.
Daemon leaned lower, deepening the kiss, and his hand, that used to be on the side of Gwayne's neck, traveled lower, sneaking down his chest through the neck of his shirt.
Gwayne thought that he would have probably allowed Daemon to take him right then and there. Even though he was injured, and even though this tent had no real door, which meant no real lock to grant them some privacy… Daemon was so hard to resist, especially when he put an effort into being gentle and charming.
But that was not to be, as they were interrupted by the hurriedly approaching footsteps. Daemon immediately took a few steps back, putting an appropriate amount of distance between them, and Gwayne let out an annoyed huff. They just had to be interrupted right when his pain started to go away!
The maester from earlier walked in, looking rather troubled. Daemon raised an eyebrow. He thought the maester would start to huff and puff about Daemon stitching Gwayne's injury all by himself, but he didn't seem to even notice. Instead, he said, ‘Your Grace, I'm afraid I have very unfortunate news.’
‘What is it?’
‘The Queen and the baby… I'm afraid neither of them survived.’
The silence hung in the air, so palpable that Gwayne could almost touch it with his fingers. He glanced at Daemon, but it was hard to tell what he was thinking or feeling. Daemon had talked about Queen Aemma before, but Gwayne still couldn't quite figure out whether they were close or not.
‘What happened?’ Daemon asked a moment or two later, his voice unusually hoarse.
‘Complication during birth, I presume. They are not sharing the details just yet…’
‘I told him he should have brought a midwife from Dragonstone. I told him!’ Daemon exclaimed, and then he stormed out of the tent so fast that neither Gwayne nor the maester were able to say anything.
Gwayne closed his eyes for a second and then took a deep breath. A very big part of him wanted to go after Daemon, to make sure that he was alright, perhaps support him somehow… but Gwayne didn't. Not because he was injured; he knew how to suck it up and get on with it if need be, but because he did not know if Daemon wanted him there.
After all, it was a family matter. And Gwayne was just a guy Daemon was fucking when he got bored and wanted company.
For some reason, it was a painful thought to have.