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9.09% Daeron the Defiant: A Second Dance of Dragons (Complete) / Chapter 4: Chapter 4: Introductions

Chapter 4: Chapter 4: Introductions

Jaime:

"Will you stop pacing," Cersei complained, "You're giving me a headache."

Jaime looked over his shoulder to see his sister was glaring at him. An intimidating look that use to have him wilt to her commands, but not anymore. It only amused him now. He offered her a shrug and a smile, knowing that would further incense her.

It did. Her eyes narrowed upon realizing her stare did nothing to affect him. A look of irritation passed over her face before she decided to change her approach.

"I don't understand why you're so worked up over this," Cersei noted, "After all, we're waiting for the Dornish party not the royal party," She didn't hide her distaste for their pending Dornish guests.

"A guest is a guest, sweet sister," Jaime replied, silently pleased at how easy it was for him to get under her skin. She really was bad at this, he thought wryly.

"And we know what guest you have your eyes on, brother," Cersei's lips curved up, clearly pleased with herself, "Though, why you're so fascinated by this plain girl is beyond me."

"She's not plain," Jaime protested hotly, "She's beautiful!" he declared before he could stop himself, inwardly chiding himself for letting his sister get the better of him. He wanted to change that.

"And she's not a girl," he corrected his sister, "But a woman, unlike you."

He knew his words hit the mark by how his sister's face flushed in anger, green eyes glaring at him as sharp as daggers, her hands clenched at her side, a snarl nearly escaping her lips at being unfavorabley compared to the Dornish Princess.

"Cersei!" Tyrion came into the room, oblivious to the heated exchange that had passed between his siblings. He was smiling as he waddled to approach them, going to his sister first since she was closer.

Cersei's anger faded in an instant at the sound of her brother's voice, spinning away from Jaime and towards Tyrion, where her smile was bright and genuine as she carefully crouched down as to not dirty her new dress to greet her brother. "Tyrion," She replied with equal affection as she hugged him when he was close enough. "You look so handsome," she cooed, kissing his cheek before letting go.

"You think so?" He looked down at his attire.

"Oh yes," Jaime answered before his sister could, "It isn't fair you know," Jaime stepped over to greet his brother, sending him a mocking frown, "No one's going to notice me, now!"

Tyrion giggled, face lighting up at Jaime's words.

Jaime smiled down at his brother before picking him up, much to Tyrion's delight, and spinning him which only brought more laughter and cheers. Jaime too couldn't help but join in, finding his brother's mirth infectious. The threat of dizziness finally brought Jaime to halt in his spinning and to put his brother back down.

Tyrion didn't hide his disappointment, but his face remained red with mirth. "I'm ready to do my duty for House Lannister." He declared with as much seriousness as a three year old could muster.

Jaime smiled, looking over his brother to see a similar smile on his sister's face, who was looking down at Tyrion with unhidden affection. In that instant, he couldn't help but notice how beautiful his sister looked, golden hair that cascaded down past her shoulders, bright green eyes that now shined with fondness instead of hooded with annoyance which Jaime often found himself the reason or center of.

However, with that observation of her beauty, he felt nothing else. There was no stirring in his chest or his pulse quickening as it did whenever he thought about Princess Elia, or the knots that formed in his stomach when he corresponded with her where he worried over every word he put to parchment.

Those feelings for his sister were no longer there. As it had been when they were younger and they had spent all their time together. He could recall how he would do anything for her if it got him a hug or a kiss to his cheek. Or even that time when they shared more than brief kiss before their mother had found them and stopped them at once.

Now, thinking of that memory, Jaime didn't find himself elated but ashamed at what had transpired between him and his sister. No longer thought with fondness, but regret, it was now a secret he hoped would never be revealed.

Cersei must have noticed his gaze as her eyes shifted from Tyrion towards him, her smile which she had been directing at their younger brother, remained, though her eyes had a curious hue to them.

He smiled at her as well before sending her a wink and was pleased when she rolled her eyes at him. Even though their relationship had changed as they grew older and they were no longer as intimate as friends and confidants like they once had been, that didn't change Jaime's feelings for his sister. He still cared and loved her even if she could drive him crazy with her streaks of jealousy or her vain outlook.

Then again wasn't that the point of siblings, Jaime found himself realizing, to love each other despite our differences and frustrations.

"You're going to make House Lannister very proud," Cersei assured Tyrion, breaking Jaime out of his reverie.

"I will," Tyrion tilted his head up proudly.

"Speaking of Lannister pride," Cersei remarked, "I'm thankful you shaved that ridiculous moustache before our guests arrived."

"I liked it!" Tyrion piped up before Jaime could address his sister's teasing, "It looked like a fuzzy caterpillar was sleeping on your lip."

Cersei giggled madly at that description, and Jaime snorted in amusement before laughter followed at his brother's innocence. Tyrion joined in on the laughter, mismatched eyes shining bright, smiling widely.

That was how their parents found them minutes later to let them know the Dornish party had been sighted.

 

 

"You look beautiful," Jaime found himself saying as he escorted Princess Elia and her brother, Prince Oberyn to their guest chambers within Casterly Rock.

His excitement and nervousness had wrestled in his stomach like writhing, fighting snakes as he had waited for the Dornish Party to arrive. He had volunteered to escort them when they had been spotted, but his father had declined, giving the task to his brother, Jaime's uncle, Ser Kevan.

So, he waited. Jaime hated waiting. He didn't like the idea of not doing anything, finding it boring and frustrating. A waste of time, when he could be doing something, but instead he was forced not to. Another reason for his dislike of it was that, he had no distractions, allowing his feelings to stew in his gut as time stretched on at a slow pace, forcing him to confront his mounting anxiety at Elia's pending presence.

"You've said that once or twice already," Oberyn quipped, not bothering to hide his amusement.

"Oberyn," Elia playfully scolded her brother before turning back to Jaime where she smiled at him, a smile that made Jaime's heartbeat quicken and his stomach to do tumbles. "Thank you, Jaime."

He returned his smile, silently pleased at how receptive the princess had been to his words. A compliment that he didn't think could be understated, sneaking a glance at the Dornish princess who walked in step with him. Her hair was as dark as a raven's wing, cascading down her back. Her eyes were dark and warm, with a kind smile that only made her more alluring to him.

She was dressed in Martell orange in a thin fabric that clung to olive skin to reveal her womanly curves. It was not just the thin fabric that had Jaime distracted but the cut of the dress, short sleeved and a low cut that gave him glimpses of her bronzed skin. A golden necklace of interwoven suns helped to accentuate her long neck.

She had his full attention in that dress. Oberyn could be walking naked beside Jaime as far as he knew, but his eyes wouldn't leave the beautiful princess. He wasn't sure anything could distract him from her beauty.

She was a vision, Jaime realized, The Maiden made flesh .

Tyrion had giggled at Oberyn's jape, snapping Jaime away from his thoughts on Elia, as he looked to his other side where he was holding Tyrion's hand. His younger brother had been adamant in joining them when Jaime had offered to escort them to their chambers.

Elia had responded with a warm smile at Tyrion before declaring how happy she'd be at his presence.

She is the Maiden, Jaime thought, not just because of her beauty but the kindness she was quick to bestow upon others including his brother.

"How was your trip?" Jaime found himself asking when the lull of conversation seemed to stretch too long to his liking. He inwardly cringed at his own question, hoping it didn't sound as dull as he feared.

"Uneventful," Oberyn answered, a touch of annoyance in his tone to convey he was disappointed by that fact.

"Is that what you called that innkeeper's daughter?" Elia teased her brother.

Oberyn grinned at that, "Never," he feigned hurt at his sister's accusation, "She was a fun distraction in a boring place."

"With words like that, brother, no wonder you swept her off her feet and into your bed," Elia observed with a dark eyebrow arched.

"Nothing so amoral," Oberyn held up his hands in defense, "just a few kisses," he winked.

Elia rolled her eyes at her brother's antics, while an ignorant Tyrion smiled detecting the joking mood that had settled over the siblings even if he couldn't understand what it was they were talking about.

"I don't think I'm the only one with that on my mind," Oberyn whispered so that only Jaime could hear before elbowing him while he laughed.

Jaime felt heat come to his face at the Dornish prince's insinuation. Looking down at where he walked so he didn't have to face Oberyn's teasing eyes and smug grin or Elia's inquisitive gaze, curious at what had been shared between them.

Was he that obvious, he worried, upon Oberyn's remarks, wondering if the Prince could detect Jaime's obvious infatuation with Elia did that mean she could as well?

That thought caused his stomach to lurch, anxiety bubbling within, as he wasn't sure he could take Elia's disinterest or worse pity, when it came to her feelings for him.

"Here we are," Tyrion's words brought Jaime's attention back to their surroundings to realize they had arrived at the two guest chambers where the Dornish Prince and Princess would be residing throughout the tournament.

The servants of the Dornish party had already begun to move their trunks and belongings into the chambers where the Prince and Princess would be staying, silently bustling back and forth as to avoid and not to interfere with the talk of their masters.

"Wonderful," Oberyn sounded pleased upon reaching his room, going to the doorway and looking inside where he let out an appreciative whistle, "I should stay with you Lannisters more often."

"Hardly," Elia injected, "You're an acquired taste, brother."

Oberyn laughed, shrugging at his sister's observation. "I suppose you're right." He admitted, not looking the least bit put out by his sister's jest. "But still, I could appreciate this sort of hospitality."

"We're your hosts," Tyrion declared happily, "If we can help we will."

Oberyn turned towards Tyrion with a smile, not one made to mock, but a genuine one, "And we are honored," he bowed his head.

"Yes, we are," Elia happily agreed to her brother's words, looking down at Tyrion with a smile, before she bent down and kissed Tyrion's cheek much to his surprise and delight. "Thank you."

"My lady," Tyrion responded, bowing his head, but Jaime caught a bit of red on his brother's cheeks from the kiss, not that Jaime could fault his brother for that. Who wouldn't react in such a way when kissed by the most beautiful woman in Westeros? He squashed the small sliver of envy that decided to grip his heart at the kiss Elia had given to Tyrion.

She then turned to Jaime, still smiling, being the center of that smile, Jaime thought it appropriate that her family's sigil was the sun, given the warmth and beauty that seemed to resonate from the Dornish Princess.

"Thank you, Jaime," without hesitation she moved and placed a similar kiss to his cheek.

"My lady," he replied, feeling a soothing warmth from where her lips had touched his cheek, her kiss had lingered with him, he thought or hoped. Ignoring the tumbling of his stomach, he reached for her hand and kissed the back of it, "Until evenfall," he was silently pleased when he thought he detected a faint coloring of her cheeks from his gesture.

"Until tonight," she echoed, her eyes locked on his.

That wonderful moment passed between them for another heartbeat or two before it was broken by the Dornish prince.

Oberyn snorted, "where's my kiss?"

"Few are that brave," Elia japed at her brother earning a chuckle out of him.

"My lady," Tyrion wanting to mimic Jaime, stepped forward, trying to reach for her hand.

Elia indulged him, placing her hand within reach of him where he kissed the back of it, looking pleased with himself.

Jaime withheld the chuckle that threatened to slip from his lips at his brother, instead settling for tousling his hair when he came to stand beside him once more.

"Elia," Jaime called back to her when she had moved towards her chambers, she stopped and turned to him, "I would be honored if you'd let me escort you to the feast tonight."

Elia answered him with a bright smile. "I would very much like that, Jaime." She curtseyed to him, sending him and Tyrion one last friendly smile before disappearing into her room.

Jaime stood there quietly pleased with how that had turned out for him. His confidence further bolstered by their interactions no matter how brief, had him feeling hopeful that she could very well be feeling something similar towards him as what he felt for her.

"My, oh my," Oberyn's voice pulled Jaime's attention towards the Dornish prince who was leaning in the doorway of his chambers, his arms crossed, and grinning, "It looks to me I may be getting another brother." He chuckled at that, clearly amused at the situation, "And if that's the case," he sobered with his next words, "I cannot think of a better match for my sister." With that, he bowed his head to Jaime and Tyrion before retreating into his chambers, closing the door behind him.

"What does that mean?" Tyrion scrunched his face, trying to figure out what the Dornish prince was alluding to.

"Nothing to concern yourself with, brother," Jaime then picked up his brother without warning, confidence soaring through him as Tyrion squealed in happiness. "Come, let's go find mother and father."

With that Jaime carried Tyrion back towards their family wing, feeling lighter than air and with a smile that he couldn't lose.

 

 

Daeron:

"Finally," King Aerys the second of his name, groused as the royal party had finally arrived outside the great golden hall of Casterly Rock. "What a maze," the king continued with his complaining.

Daeron on the other hand had been disappointed that they had finally arrived at their destination. He had been in awe at the sight of Casterly Rock from the first time he had seen it on the horizon. He had read tales and history of its size, how it stood taller than either the Wall in the north or the Hightower in Oldtown, but to see it with his eyes was a distinct experience entirely.

There was no dispute that this was the largest, wealthiest, and most formidable castle in all of Westeros. Taking in its size and fortifications, Daeron understood now why this castle had never been taken in a siege. He wasn't certain that it could be done by the hands of man. How could one topple such a behemoth? It loomed over the city of Lannisport like a large, skulking stone beast.

Once they were inside, Daeron found new ways to be impressed with how rooms, halls and chambers had been carved from the mineshafts. The walls were awash with the red and gold trappings of House Lannister. Roaring lions, proud and tall looked down on them from cloth and stone alike, as they moved deeper into the seat of House Lannister where its lord and family were waiting for them.

While Dragonstone was cold, wet, and gloomy, Casterly Rock was bright and warm and had its own life which Daeron admired.

Ser Tygett Lannister, younger brother of Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, and Hand of the King took the king's words without reaction, instead signaling to the guards to open the doors, which they did.

Glimmering gold greeted Daeron's eyes once the doors opened revealing how the Golden Hall got its name. Daeron's head turned this way and that as he tried to take in the great sight before him.

A large, cavernous hall that had been dug out centuries ago by past Lannister kings to serve to entertain and impress foes and friends alike. Tall pillars gilded in gold lined the room, up above golden chandeliers hung resembling clouds of gold each one holding hundreds of candles. Tables and benches were scattered about with so many years, Daeron thought this room could probably hold a thousand guests if needed.

Red tapestries of golden lions hung proudly on the walls, none bigger than the one behind the lord's table where it stretched down more than twenty feet, the golden lion emblazoned on it was as large as a giant.

There standing beneath the towering lion was another such lion, Lord Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West, and Hand of the King. The man stood tall and proud, short blonde hair rested atop his head like a golden crown. His tunic, doublet, breeches all in red, a golden lion pendant clasped at his collar to keep his gold colored cape in place, around his neck was a chain of golden hands, the finger of each clasping the wrist of the next.

"Your Grace," Tywin Lannister greeted them cordially, bowing as he spoke, his wife and children followed his example where they stood behind him. "It is an honor that you accepted our invitation."

"Yes, yes," Aerys waved off Tywin's greeting with an annoyed hand, his eyes moving from his Hand to the Hand's wife, where a smile spread across his face, "Lady Joanna," he beckoned her closer, "You are a vision."

Joanna Lannister moved towards the king. "Your Grace," She curtseyed. "You are too kind."

"Pah," Aerys dismissed her tone, "We're friends, Joanna," his eyes not shying away from her figure, he then took her hand which she did not offer, placing a kiss to the back of it. "Your sight is a refreshing reprieve to a tired traveler."

Daeron noticed how Lord Tywin's green eyes flecked with gold were staring at his father, his mouth pressed so thin that it looked like it may disappear. While Daeron observed the Hand's anger, he too experienced his own at his father's disrespect of their mother.

A scene that did not go unnoticed by the large noble crowd that had come to Lannisport for the tournament, but here in the Golden Hall only the most powerful and richest nobles were given a seat. Not to mention the Royal party and part of the court his father had been inclined to take with him.

"Let me see the children," Aerys ordered.

"Proudly," Joanna answered smoothly, taking in stride his father's tone and demand. "Jaime and Cersei, who you've already met."

Daeron hadn't seen the children of Lord Tywin and Lady Joanna since he was a boy no older than five or six. And then he had barely made their acquaintances. The Hand of the King kept his family at the Rock while he resided in King's Landing.

Jaime was a year younger than Daeron, but stood tall like his father and would probably only continue to grow. His hair was gold and curled. He had bright green eyes, an easy smile which complimented his handsome features which were sure to make girls swoon.

When their eyes met, Jaime bowed his head before offering a friendly smile which Daeron found himself returning, thinking he could find a friend in Tywin's son and heir.

Daeron then shifted his attention to Jaime's twin sister. She had long golden hair that fell past her shoulders, emerald green eyes, fair skin, slender. She was cute and he had no doubt that she'd grow into a beautiful woman. She felt his eyes on him and turned to meet his stare, a challenging gaze but just as quickly she looked away. He followed her gaze to see she was staring at his brother, Rhaegar with undisguised affection.

Like my brother would notice, Daeron snorted in amusement. He looked to see Rhaegar take in the introductions with his typical detachedness that Daeron had grown accustomed from his older brother.

"They've grown," Aerys' eyes barely took in their appearance before they shifted to the small boy that stood between the twins, "But it is your new son that interests me." His tone not hiding his glee, "Step forward, little one."

Daeron had overlooked the youngest son of Tywin and Joanna when inspecting the twins. He saw a boy no older than three or four who when standing straight still came to a height below the knees of his siblings. He was a dwarf, with a jutted forehead, mismatched eyes of green and black, and pale, coarse hair.

He shyly stepped forward, "Your Grace," he said timidly, giving the king a small, clumsy bow as he did.

To Daeron's shame, Aerys looked delighted. "What a Lannister," His father proclaimed in a mocking tone, "I can see the resemblance of your father."

The Golden Hall filled with snickering and murmuring of the king's veiled but obvious insult of his host.

Daeron stood awkwardly, quiet and still as he was unsure how to address his father's words without earning his wrath. He looked to see angry looks coming from Jaime and Cersei being directed at the king before the latter had Tyrion return to their side. The poor boy who was innocent and ignorant of the jape being directed at him.

"Your Grace," Tywin said stiffly, "Let us break bread and drink," he gestured to the lord's table, "And let this feast commence with your blessing."

Aerys met Tywin's stare with a scowl as if he was about to protest at being dictated to before the king changed his mind, and acquiesced, "wise words from my wise councilor," Aerys announced to the gathered crowd, "Let us enjoy this bounty provided by the Lannisters but made possible by your king."

 

 

"What do you think of our home, Prince Daeron?"

Daeron turned to see Tywin's youngest son, Tyrion was the one to have addressed him. The young boy sitting on some sort of wooden block that had been added to the bench that allowed him to sit above the table like the rest of them.

The table he found himself sitting at was one closest to the lord's table, where Daeron sat with all three of Lord Tywin's children as well as the Dornish Prince and Princess, Oberyn and Elia. While the Lord's table was occupied by Aerys, Rhaegar, Tywin, and his wife, Joanna.

Daeron couldn't complain about the company enjoying his time with the Lannisters and Martells. As he was already familiar with the latter as they had come to King's Landing on more than one occasion. The only person who wasn't joining in on their friendly conversation was Cersei who had taken a seat at the table that looked towards the lord's table and there she sat, barely eating, watching Rhaegar, who seemed oblivious to her stares.

"It's wonderful, Tyrion," Daeron answered, "Surely a castle worth boasting of."

"It is," Tyrion was all too happy to agree. His inquisitive and mismatched eyes remained on him. "Is it true about the dragon skulls in the Great Hall?"

"Yes." Daeron confirmed, "they line our Great Hall."

"Including Balerion?" Tyrion didn't hide his enthusiasm. "It was said he could plunge towns in darkness since his wings were capable of blocking the sun!" Tyrion said excitedly, "Or that he could swallow an auroch whole!"

"Yes, Balerion's skull resides in the Great Hall, an impressive sight," Daeron confirmed, "his teeth are as large as swords," Daeron revealed, noticing the look of wonder on the boy's face. "You know your dragons, master Tyrion."

Tyrion beamed in pride, "I've always wanted to ride one," he admitted. "Then when it flies I'll be taller then everyone!"

The table sobered at the young boy's honest confession. Princess Elia looking at him with pity, but a reassuring smile, Oberyn had a pensive look, Jaime who was sitting beside his brother, patted him on the shoulder, even Cersei who had been gawking at Rhaegar and hadn't said three words to them had turned her attention to her youngest brother, who sat across from her. She gave him a sympathetic look before patting his hand.

"You would make a fine dragon rider," Daeron declared with an encouraging smile.

"It would be quite the sight," Elia added.

"Indeed," Daeron agreed, looking to see their words had the desired effect on the boy.

"How goes your training, Prince Daeron?" Oberyn asked.

"Better," Daeron answered, "But far from great."

"We should spar soon," Oberyn was grinning, "I never get tired of besting you."

Daeron took the playful ribbing with a smile, "That's because of that blasted spear you wield." He had yet to find a way to beat the Dornish Prince the few times they had sparred when the Dornish had visited the capital.

"My spear does have great reach," Oberyn winked at him.

"Really Oberyn?" Elia sounded resign at her brother's attempt at innuendo.

Daeron took it with a laugh, "We most certainly should spar but only when it doesn't take away from my duties as squire."

"Who are you squiring for?" That had gotten Jaime's interest.

"Ser Barristan Selmy," Daeron couldn't help but savor the reaction his answer had gotten from Jaime, the heir to Casterly Rock took it with equal parts disbelief and envy.

"Barristan the Bold?" Jaime repeated, "He's the greatest swordsman in Westeros!"

"He is," Daeron agreed, "And I am."

"I could only hope to squire for such a knight," Jaime's tone turned wistful.

"You could join one of my sessions if you like?" Daeron offered.

"Really?" Jaime's face brightened, "I wouldn't miss it."

"Good," Daeron was pleased that he accepted. "I'll have someone send for you tomorrow after the tournament."

"Thank you," Jaime replied sincerely.

Daeron took his thanks with a smile. "It's my pleasure." He then turned to the Dornish Prince, "what say you, Oberyn?"

"Pass," he declined, "I have other ways of occupying my time then watching men fight," he grinned, "But do let me know when you're ready to spar."

"I will," Daeron assured him. "I'll beat you this time."

Oberyn took his confidence with a snort of amusement. "Doubtful, but even princes have their delusions."

"Who do you think will win the tournament?" Jaime asked.

"Ser Barristan," who else could Daeron pick?

"Only because of his helpful squire," Elia teased.

Daeron chuckled, "Mayhaps."

"It's Rhaegar," Cersei answered, surprising them all by joining their conversation when all evening she showed no desire to speak with them instead settling for sitting and staring at the Crown Prince.

"You sound confident," Daeron pointed out.

"He is the best," Cersei answered in a tone that conveyed it was the most simplest thing to understand,

"Is that so he can crown you his Queen when he wins?" Jaime smirked.

Cersei scowled in her brother's direction, but not before her eyes glazed over briefly at that thought signaling how enticing she found the idea.

"I hate to disappoint you," Oberyn injected, "But the winner will be Ser Arthur Dayne."

"Ashara would be pleased," Elia sounded to be in support of her brother's prediction.

Jaime looked at them in amusement, "Picking a fellow Dornishman?"

"Why not?" Elia raised a dark eyebrow, a challenging smile on her lips. "We are the best."

Oberyn laughed at his sister's declaration before nodding, "My sister speaks truly."

Daeron too chuckled along with the Dornish Prince and Princess as did Jaime, who while laughing wouldn't take his eyes off the Dornish beauty. Tyrion joined them, oblivious to the joke, but not wanting to be left out. Cersei however, didn't look too impressed at Elia's playful declarations, giving the princess a once over with a disapproving look, before settling her focus back on Rhaegar.

All in all, Daeron couldn't have imagined a better start to his time at Casterly Rock.


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Chapter 5: Chapter 5: Princes

Jaime:

"I yield!" Jaime called out in frustration, back on the ground, sword out of reach, and his right elbow tingling in pain having absorbed most of the impact from his fall. The sword of his opponent hovering inches away from his face, angled towards his exposed throat. It was a blunted blade, but an uneasy feeling still clung to him.

Prince Daeron Targaryen lowered his sword. "You fought well." He then offered his hand to help him up.

Jaime took the hand with a nod, as the Prince helped him to his feet. "Thanks," he brushed himself off, "I've never seen that counter riposte before," he confessed, that move had been what had caused him tumbling the ground and admitting defeat.

The Prince gave a proud smile. "Ser Barristan taught me that."

"It's an incredible move," Jaime admitted, wincing as the tingling of pain in his elbow reminded him just how good of a move it was. "Thought I had you."

Daeron took his words with a chuckle. "You almost did." He then clapped him on the back.

"Well done, both of you," Ser Barristan congratulated them both.

"Thank you," Jaime replied quickly, still amazed that he was talking to and learning from Ser Barristan the Bold. All of it thanks to Daeron who had invited him to join him in his morning lesson with the legendary knight.

"You have a lot of talent, Jaime," Barristan complimented him, "And I know you'll only get better when you grow older and stronger." His hand scratching at his chin. "Yes, greatness could be in your future with that sword in your hand."

Jaime's chest filled with pride at such a bold prediction from Ser Barristan. "I'll try not to disappoint you."

"It's not me you should be worried about disappointing," His blue eyes were kind. "Stay true to yourself."

"I will, ser." Jaime vowed.

Satisfied, that his message was taken to heart, Barristan turned to regard his squire. "You need to tighten your form and your stance," he said plainly. "You may have won the contest, but you never should've found yourself at such a disadvantage."

Instead of sulking or protesting at such criticism after a victory, Daeron perked up at the knight's words. Nodding along to them, "of course, Ser Barristan," he replied respectfully, a serious hue in his eyes as he took in the knight's advice.

Barristan smiled, "Good lad," he praised, "A knight should not shield himself from criticism, otherwise he risks being defeated," he warned, "But not by another's greater talent, but his own crippling pride."

"I understand."

"Good, we shall call an end to this lesson today." He looked to the prince expectantly, "You have duties as my squire to perform before the tournament is to start."

Daeron nodded, "I'll see to them at once, Ser Barristan." He then turned to Jaime, "It's been a pleasure, friend." He extended his hand.

"Aye," Jaime happily agreed, shaking his hand. "It has."

 

 

"Not to your liking?"

Jaime covered his mouth as he coughed, the sour taste leaving a bitter blaze down his throat. The Dornish Red had been given to them by Oberyn, who then encouraged them to help themselves, claiming they needed a way to pass the time with the tournament having ended for the day and with the feast still an hour or so away.

"It's something," he answered weakly.

"I think you'd prefer to taste a different Dornish," Oberyn was smirking.

Jaime felt his face heat up at who the prince was referring to. He kept his face down not wanting to give Oberyn the satisfaction to see how true to the mark his teasing had been.

Daeron chuckled. "You do not sound mad, Oberyn."

"Mad? Why should I be?" He sounded confused at the idea, "Who am I to stand between what my sister wants."

"Really?" Jaime's head shot up in an instant at that. Only to see the Dornish prince's eyes shimmer in amusement. Jaime then tried to recover, clearing his throat, "I mean, really?"

Oberyn shrugged, "Mayhaps," he put his hands behind his head, leaning back in his chair as he did. However, his eyes stayed on Jaime. "Unless there is a reason I should involve myself?"

Jaime wasn't fooled by the prince's loose, unthreatening posture knowing, like a snake, he'd lash out if needed, or if threatened in a heartbeat. While he remained coiled, his dark eyes took him in, silently measuring what sort of man he was and if he was worthy to be the recipient of his sister's attraction.

He tried his best not to stir in his seat as he met Oberyn's stare, whatever anxiety he may have felt in his gut dissipating at the earlier reveal that his sister, Princess Elia did seem interested in him.

For a few heartbeats, all Jaime could hear was the sound of his own heart as it drummed against his ribs, even though it felt and sounded as if it was beating between his ears. Just before Jaime's restlessness could get the better of him, it was Oberyn who blinked first.

Smooth as silk, he leaned forward, a smirk on his lips, but said nothing, as he poured himself more Dornish Red.

Just like that it was over for Jaime. With the moment having passed, he felt the tension melt away, breathing a sigh of relief. Hoping he had passed the prince's inspection and met with his approval.

"I hear you look beyond the shores of Westeros, for your future, my prince?" Oberyn had turned his attention towards the quiet Targaryen prince.

"I do," Daeron confirmed, his wineglass in hand, but he looked to have barely had touched it, until Oberyn's question prompted him to take a rather noticeable sip.

"What is this?" Jaime asked, caught off guard by the shift in conversation.

"My future isn't here," Daeron put down his wineglass, "It's in Essos."

"Essos?" Jaime repeated, surprised and confused by the Prince's answer. "You're a prince," he chided himself for how dumb he sounded with that simple objection.

"Aye, I haven't forgotten," His lips twitched, but he didn't smile, "There's not much for me in Westeros," he admitted, "I've always wanted to see the Free Cities."

"My Uncle says they're lovely," Jaime recalled the great stories his favorite uncle, Gerion had told him of the places he visited and the sights he saw when his uncle had visited the Free Cities to celebrate his coming of age. Those stories had fueled Jaime's excitement about his own coming of age day, and wanting to share a similar tour that his Uncle had gone on. Jaime had made the mistake of mentioning it to his father, who had declined the idea rather swiftly and brutally.

You'll have the Rock, his father had said, a better gift then a tour of back water cities

That had been the end of that conversation and any remaining aspirations Jaime had had of seeing the Free Cities.

"Yes, such new and sweet fruits to taste," Oberyn popped a grape into his mouth.

"I could carve my own reputation and fortune across the Narrow Sea," Daeron's pale purple eyes seemed to shimmer at the possibilities. "I'll get by through my accomplishments and not have to depend on my brother's generosity. " He then smiled, "After all, I have enough coin I could even start my own mercenary company."

"I must say, I find this appealing," Oberyn admitted, "I may have to accompany you on this adventure you seem to be planning."

"Your presence would be welcomed, Prince Oberyn," Daeron looked pleased at the idea of not leaving Westeros alone, "You too would have an invitation, Jaime."

"Thank you, my prince," Jaime couldn't deny the appeal of such an adventure especially among friends. "I am honored."

"Though, this is just talk," Daeron cautioned them, a tone of melancholy in his voice, "It'll be years before I set sail to the Free Cities."

"That is no matter," Oberyn didn't seem bothered, "I am patient," that earned a snort of amusement from Daeron, and even Jaime couldn't stop the chuckle that came to him at the obvious lie. Oberyn took their reactions with a grin, and a shrug, "Very well, not patient, but I am a man who can keep himself busy."

"I'll drink to that," Jaime put in, and he did, to the sound of his friends' laughter.

 

 

"I think I'll take my leave," Oberyn suddenly announced.

The three of them had just left the feast that was being held to celebrate the end of the first day of the tournament. The sound of raucous laughter and drunken boasting could still be heard, echoing off the walls as the minor nobles and Westerlands bannermen continued to enjoy gorging themselves on his father's food and drinking up his wine.

"So soon?" Elia couldn't hide her surprise at her brother's abrupt decision.

"Yes," Oberyn answered, "I'm sure you'll recover, sweet sister," he poked her shoulder with his elbow, chuckling when it got her to frown. "Besides, I do not leave you alone."

In that second, Jaime thought he saw Elia's perfect composure crack, looking flustered at her brother's tone, her dark eyes darting to him and then back to her brother, before she regained her poise.

Or it's just my pride deceiving me, Jaime was quick to point out, before he remembered Oberyn's earlier remark: Who am I to stand between what my sister wants?

That was when Jaime realized what his friend was intending to do…

"Off with some wench, brother?"

"Only one?" Oberyn feigned hurt, "You think so little of your brother's charm?"

"Only because I've seen it," Elia replied with a playful smile.

"Ah, sister, as much as I'd enjoy this exchange of barbs," he wrapped his arm around her shoulders for a quick embrace, "I have other uses for my tongue," he winked, "As I'm sure you do as well."

"Oberyn," Elia's tone suddenly became as sharp as their ancestors' famous spears, Oberyn didn't even flinch at it, laughing it off as he walked back towards the Golden Hall where Jaime had no doubts that the Dornish Prince would grab some wine and a wench or two for his evening entertainment.

Jaime stood awkwardly in the hallway, eyes glancing from where a quiet and flummoxed Dornish Princess stood and towards the retreating figure of a Dornish Prince. His thoughts relaying Oberyn's earlier words while nervousness and uncertainty churned in his gut. Hating himself, for how his tongue felt clumsy and how his wit seemed to abandon him as the silence continued to stretch between them.

"It must be fun having him as a brother." Jaime found himself saying.

She turned to face him, a wistful smile on her lips, "Oberyn has always been a handful."

"I could imagine," Jaime replied dryly, feeling his heart flicker at the encouraging and musical laugh his joke had gotten from the Dornish Princess. "Shall we try to salvage this evening without him?" He offered her his arm.

"I cannot think of a better way to spend my evening," she tucked her hand into his arm.

The two went off on a silent stroll, Jaime barely paying attention where it was they were going, most of his thoughts and glances were towards the Dornish Princess, he had on his arm.

"You and your sister couldn't be much different then Oberyn and myself growing up."

You have no idea, was the first reply that came to him, but he was quick to clamp down on that impulse. "We are twins," immediately regretting the answer for how stupid and obvious it was. Some of which dissipated at seeing the smile it bloomed on Elia's lips.

"We were close," he picked his words carefully, not wanting even a hint to be uncovered of just how close they once were.

"Were?"

"Still," Jaime said quickly, realizing he should've been smarter with what he said, "I mean," he found himself amending, "It was easier when we were younger," he pushed away the memories that wanted to emerge, "When we had more time together."

"Yes," Elia's tone was all understanding, "Before your duties separated you?"

"Exactly,"

"You know had you been born Dornish, Cersei and not you would be heir to Casterly Rock."

Thank the Seven for small mercies, was Jaime's wry response, upon thinking of his impulsive and proud sister inheriting the Rock. He wasn't certain their family could endure that hardship. "A regret my sister laments," Jaime lied smoothly. Aware of the disdain his sister had upon the Dornish as a people, even if they let their women inherit titles and lands, she would still look down at anyone that wasn't them.

"Not to say the Rock isn't in capable hands now," Elia said, as if realizing her previous remark could've been perceived as an affront to Jaime.

Jaime chuckled at her sincere worry that she had insulted him. "Don't worry, princess," he assured her, "Neither myself or my hands felt any offense." He emphasized his words by bringing his hand to gently pat the hand she had tucked into his arm.

"I'm relieved," her eyes lingered on where his hand had was resting on hers before looking up to catch him watching her, dark eyes through thick lashes, and full lips that seemed more enticing then Jaime had ever remembered, "Where are you taking me, Jaime?"

Jaime swallowed at the enticing image that she presented before him, the soothe, rich accent of her voice, the demure tone that had just a hint of wickedness to it. His free hand clenched into a fist as if to try to will himself and his thoughts to remain under control. "The Godswood," blurting out the first name that came to mind. "There's something I want to show you."

"Lead on," she whispered, the softness of her voice accompanied with her intoxicating accent brought an involuntary shiver out of him.

"Have I offered you congratulations?" Jaime decided a change of topic was needed, "At the birth of your niece."

A bright smile flashed across her face at the mention of her newborn niece, "Arianne," she said the name with warmth that rivaled the Martell sun that made up part of their sigil. "She's a precious little thing," Elia went on, "and it is a relief to my brother to know Dorne has an heir."

"Indeed," Finding himself distracted as he watched how her face lit up and her eyes shone as she talked about her niece, the heir to Sunspear.

"Trouble in believing Jaime?" she teased, taking his distracted tone into believing he didn't fully agree with Dornish customs. "Do you not think women are commendable into ruling."

"No, no," Jaime hastily wanted to put that damaging idea out before Elia saw him in that light, "Women are very commendable," he didn't look away from her gaze when she regarded him with his words.

"Are they?" she challenged, a dark eyebrow raised up at him.

"Very," Jaime's eyes flickered from her dark eyes to full lips.

"I'm glad to hear that," she looked away first, and Jaime was certain or at the very least hopeful that he saw a faint blush on her cheeks.

His thoughts on what he saw stopped when they reached the Godswood of Casterly Rock, a beautiful and lush garden of various greens and flowers and a cobbled path that the two found themselves walking along. Jaime was always impressed at how well the upkeep was for an area that his family rarely used or even visited, but he was glad for it as he led Elia past the heart tree of the Godswood, a weirwood tree, pale bark, red eyes, with a half-smile carved onto its lips, as if it was privy to a jape that no one else could understand.

"Just over here," he was pleased to see the sun hadn't quite set on the Rock, wanting Elia to get the best view she could. He knew she had it when he heard her gasp. He led them to a small clearing on a cliff lip at the edge of the Godswood giving them an unrivaled view of the sunset.

The soft reddish glow of a setting sun, dipping beneath the horizon, casting shades of pale orange and red along the aptly named, Sunset Sea, that blazed as if it was a Sea of fire while streaks of purple crept along the setting expanse, winks in the sky, as the stars began to shine, heralding the coming of the night.

"It's beautiful," Elia's dark eyes looked at it with wonder, her mouth parted in awe.

"It is," Jaime agreed softly, but his eyes were on the Dornish sun not the setting one.

 

 

Cersei:

"Did you hear him play?" Cooed Jeyne Farman, a fat and foolish girl of Cersei's age.

Of course, I did, Cersei wanted to snap at her, she wasn't deaf. He played for me, she thought with a contented sigh, her tears had since dried from the sweet, but mournful songs he played, but she would never forget this night.

After a day of thrashing every opponent he came across in the tournament including Cersei's uncles and several members of the Kingsguard, her Rhaegar played that night, showing the soul of a bard as he perfectly played his harp to elicit the most beautiful and sad song her ears had ever heard.

He was the fitting image of a crown prince, handsome and regal looking, garbed in his black and red silk doublet, tall and slender with silvery hair and the most beautiful eyes that Cersei longed to drown in. Long fingers that strummed at his harp, but when she closed her eyes, she imagined them on her, the images that came to her mind's eye made her face grow warm with a haze of dizziness filling her head.

Soon he'll be mine, Cersei was giddy.

My king, she gushed softly, my husband, she felt her heartbeat quicken at her future. All of Westeros would call her Queen, her father would bow to her, her mother would bow, Jaime would bow. The last one made Cersei smirk in triumph, she would savor watching him bow to her, and making sure he called her, Your Grace .

Take your plain princess, Jaime, Cersei thought, I will be a Queen.

First her Rhaegar would defeat Ser Arthur Dayne in the final tilt of the tournament tomorrow, and then he'd crown her, his Queen of Love and Beauty.

Me, she thought proudly, then that night at the feast, their betrothal would be announced, all of Westeros will learn that she was to be their next Queen.

In her mind's eye, she could see Rhaegar's indigo eyes looking at her with affection, a smile on his lips, his smooth voice, promising to love her.

"The Prince is handsome," Melara admitted in a reluctant tone. She was a bold beauty even with a handful of freckles on her small nose and rosy cheeks. She was already a woman, having flowered, an achievement she liked to point out whenever she could. "But I still would have Jaime."

"Jaime already has his eyes on the princess," Jeyne giggled, "he's quite smitten with her."

Because he's a fool, Cersei wanted to say, how could someone as beautiful as her brother, her twin be attracted to that drab Dornish princess?

Melara looked put out at the reminder of Jaime's affections being directed at Princess Elia. "That's alright," a wicked smile came to her lips, "I still have my imagination and my hands."

Jeyne's face burned scarlet, looking scandalized at the crude, and not so subtle innuendo, "That's not lady like!" she scolded her friend.

Melara didn't seem to care. "It feels good." She then ignored Jeyne's sputtering remarks and turned her eyes towards Cersei. "Are you ready?"

"Almost," Cersei answered.

The three of them were sneaking out of the castle and were going to pay a visit to this fortune teller who had put up at a tent near the tournament grounds. Melara had been the one to tell them about her, claiming she was called, Maggy the Frog, who brewed loved potions and had the gift of looking into the future.

It sounded like nonsense to Cersei. The idea of a love potion was laughable to her, why should she ever need such a thing? She was beautiful, everyone told her that, and they claimed that once she flowered, she'd be the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms.

I already know my future, she thought confidently, I'm to marry the prince and be his queen.

That being known, Cersei still couldn't deny her curiosity at meeting a fortune teller. It sounded exciting, and sneaking out of the castle was daring and promised to be a thrill onto itself. So, she had agreed with Melara and Jeyne to go with them, the former was excited and was already listing off questions she wanted to ask while the latter had remained pale ever since they agreed. Her eyes were twitchy and hands shaking, unable to hide her nervousness at meeting the witch.

Such a coward, Cersei thought viciously, not bothering to hide her disdain at Jeyne's behavior. If they see me with a craven, they'll think me a craven. Cersei didn't like that at all. A lion fears nothing, she reminded herself while quietly wondering if she could have Jeyne sent back to her family on Fair Island. Cowards don't belong in the Rock.

Cersei went to get her jacket and hood to hide her distinguished features from the castle's guards and servants, when a knock to her door brought her to a sudden halt. She spun around to see Melara who had been sitting at the table, looked annoyed at the interruption while Jeyne looked frightened as if fearing the Stranger had come to take them away.

"Yes?" Cersei kept her voice light and casual.

"Cersei?" The sound of her mother's muffled voice coming from the other side of the closed door was enough to temper Cersei's confidence.

Before she could answer, the door opened to show Joanna Lannister, Lady of the Rock, green eyes sweeping around the room, flicking to Melara and Jeyne, who both bowed their heads at her appearance, and chorused, "my lady,"

Joanna replied to their greeting with a nod before she turned towards Cersei. "I've been looking for you."

"I've been here."

A slight frown played at her lips at that answer. "I've discovered that," her tone had a warning lilt to it, "You are needed."

"Needed?" Cersei repeated, "For what?"

"Your brother, Tyrion has offered to give the Prince a tour of the Rock and he accepted."

"The Prince?" Cersei asked breathlessly.

Her friends and this stupid witch forgotten, she moved hastily to where her mother was standing, her hand going through her hair to make sure it wasn't tangled. "I need to change," she was dressed to sneak out of the castle not to be escorted by a prince. She couldn't let Rhaegar see her like this.

"Yes," her mother watched her move with unconcealed amusement dancing in her green eyes, "Prince Daeron was very interested in seeing the Rock."

Prince Daeron, with those two words Cersei's happiness was punctured, her smile curdled, annoyance flickered within her chest. I don't want to be with the spare.

"Let Jaime do It," He was already friends with the Dornish princess and her brother, another spare, let him collect Daeron too.

"He is already with Prince Oberyn and Princess Elia."

Cersei wanted to scream in frustration at her brother for running off with the Dornish and leaving her here with the Targaryen spare. "I'm," Cersei struggled to find a lie that could get her out of this situation while also giving her a chance to still sneak out. "Am not feeling well," she coughed suddenly, her hand going to her forehead, "I haven't been feeling well since dinner," silently trying to will herself to look and sound convincing.

"Really?" A look of concern flashed over her mother's face allowing a feeling of triumph to fill Cersei at her plan seemingly working.

Her mother then walked over to her, Cersei tried her to best to look sick, coughing again, a sniffle followed that sounded believable to her ears, and she swayed on her feet as if overcome with dizziness or nausea.

"My lioness," Joana placed the back of her hand on Cersei's temple, feeling for a fever, her lips pursed together, as she looked down at Cersei with a look of pity.

It's working, Cersei forced herself not to smile at her pending victory instead turning to her mother, her mouth sagging, eyes downcast.

"Is not as clever as she thinks she is," Joanna finished, the corner of her lips tugging upwards in a smile at seeing through Cersei's performance. "Come, your brother and the prince are waiting for you." She gestured to the open door. "You shouldn't keep them waiting."

Defeated, Cersei sighed, accepting her duty, but not before stamping her feet to show she wasn't at all happy about it. She stormed out of the room without a backwards glance to her mother or her so called friends, who had been silent sheep, meek and useless.

"Have fun, darling," Her mother's voice called after her, unbothered by Cersei's anger.

That had only made her madder. Growling, like the lion adorned on her family's crest, Cersei went off to find her brother and the prince, and silently prayed that if the Seven were merciful this would be a very short tour.

 

 

"Cersei!"

Blinded by her lingering annoyance at being forced in this predicament, Cersei hadn't realized she had arrived to where her brother and the Prince were waiting until she heard her brother's happy voice.

"Tyrion," she wrapped him in a quick hug, getting a giggle out of him. Seeing him smile and hearing him laugh, she felt some of her anger deflate at having to be here.

She looked up from her smiling brother's face to see the wrong prince was waiting for her. It should be Rhaegar, not you. I don't want you.

"My lady," he bowed his head respectfully.

"Prince Daeron," she replied politely, taking the moment to study the young prince before her. He was tall, and broad shouldered. He had silvery hair, but it didn't flow like his brother's, he kept his shorter, having it fall above his shoulders. Another thing different about him than his older brother was that his eyes were lilac, and she begrudgingly had to admit he had pretty eyes.

Rhaegar was the perfect prince, she thought as she finished her silent inspection of the other prince, you are but the spare, she reflected, lost in your brother's shadow, not to be seen or remembered.

Cersei put her thoughts and frustrations aside, knowing what was expected of her from her parents especially her mother. "I hope you were not waiting long for me," she addressed the prince, but put her attention on her eager younger brother, gently grabbing his hand which he liked, who responded to it with a warm smile.

"We have not been," Daeron assured her, before nodding to Tyrion, "I was just thanking your brother for being willing to show us this impressive castle."

She listened intently to his words and his tone, eyes darting between him and her brother, alert for any slight or insult he may try to mask or use against Tyrion. Cersei hadn't forgotten what the King had done to Tyrion, mocking him with a smile and sweet words. She hadn't been fooled, but furious.

Her blood had boiled, heat burning in her chest with each word the king dared to utter towards her brother. How dare he! She had fumed, wanting to roar and attack him for his slights on someone as innocent and as kind as Tyrion.

King or not, dragon or not, she didn't care, one did not insult a lion or their pride.

Putting that unpleasantness from the past behind her, she was pleasantly surprised to see that the prince was sincerely polite to her brother through his tone and words.

"I'm honored," Tyrion said happily.

Daeron gave him a smile, "Shall we?"

"Yes," Tyrion wobbled forward, Cersei walked with him, her hand still holding his while she clung to the illusion that it as her Rhaegar not Daeron who walked beside them as they started their tour of Casterly Rock.

 

 

"Remarkable," the Prince didn't try to hide his astonishment after they finished showing him the Hall of Heroes, where Lannisters were interred, but in this tomb only those who had died valiantly were put to rest in the splendid and ornate crypt.

"The last Lannister to be buried here was Lord Jason Lannister who was killed in the Battle of the Red Fork," Tyrion informed the Targaryen prince with a formal and solemn tone that never stopped being surprising since it was coming from a three-year-old.

Cersei had distanced herself from the pair the longer the tour had gone on, she wondered just how long and how much of Casterly Rock they had explored. Though, she was happy to see her brother enjoying himself, she herself felt bored and unnecessary. So as the tour went on, she found herself drifting away from Tyrion and the Prince, as the former regaled the latter with the tales of the Lannister family and history of the Rock.

Most of it was stuff she already knew and hadn't cared for when she was taught it by Maester Desmond. Finding history dry and dull, since it was filled with men and their accomplishments. Very few women trickled into the tales of heroism or courage. While the only other few women who were featured in these stories were usually the villains, scornful and too ambitious.

What do you expect, she found herself thinking, history was written by men.

No Lannister woman had been entombed in the Hall of Heroes for any deeds of valor, but instead for being wives or daughters to their heroic husbands and fathers. Not that she was surprised, a woman's battlefield was the birthing bed, and no man saw that as a death worthy to be sung by bards or to grant them a place in the Hall of Heroes.

They'd change their mind about childbirth if they had to experience it, her mother had quipped to Cersei once when she had first learned about the Hall of Heroes and how it had excluded women.

"During the Dance of Dragons," Daeron finished quietly, face pensive.

"That's right," Tyrion agreed.

"I must say the tales of this castle were not exaggerating," Daeron declared, looking to have regained his pleasant demeanor. "I understand my ancestor's sentiment now."

"Oh?" Tyrion tilted his head up to the Targaryen Prince. "And what was that?"

"Visenya Targaryen being grateful that your ancestor Loren Lannister rode to war against my kin instead of taking refuge inside the Rock," Daeron looked around the imposing surroundings that the group found themselves encased in as they made the ascent up towards the living quarters.

"That she wasn't certain even dragonflame could have cracked the Rock."

 

 

"I am in your debt."

Finally, Cersei thought with relief, pleased that her responsibility for the night was over. Her last task being to escort her brother back to his chambers. She looked to where the Targaryen prince was speaking with Tyrion, a few feet from her.

He treats him with respect, Cersei noted, reflecting on the interactions between the prince and her brother. As he should, she reminded herself, and if he had been foolish to try a more disrespectful stance then Cersei would've corrected that mistake-quickly and fiercely.

"You as well, Lady Cersei."

She blinked from her thoughts to see the prince was looking at her with those lilac eyes, that she found alluring.

The only thing he has that his older, better brother doesn't. She quickly added, as if afraid her observation could be seen as a perceived betrayal to her Rhaegar. She gave him a quick, but polite smile, only following her duties and what was expected of her.

Not to her surprise, it fooled him, and he returned it, and bowed his head to her in respect before turning to Tyrion. "I promise to return the favor whenever you visit the Red Keep or Dragonstone."

"Really?" Tyrion's face split into a wide smile.

"Really," Daeron confirmed, "It is the least I can do."

"Thank you, my prince," replied an enthusiastic Tyrion.

As happy as she was at seeing Tyrion's excitement, she had difficulty seeing her father allowing her brother to leave Casterly Rock to go to the capital or the ancestral seat of the Targaryens.

"Brother."

Cersei recognized the soothing, melancholic voice of her prince, turning to see him standing before there, looking handsome and regal, the perfect epitome of what a prince and a king should look like.

All thoughts on the other prince discarded when his older brother and heir to the Iron Throne suddenly appeared before them.

"My Prince," she announced her presence in case she was overlooked from where she had been standing. She hadn't wanted to be around for Daeron and Tyrion's conversation, but now that Rhaegar was present, she was quick to show herself. Her heat fluttered in her chest with each step as she closed the distance between herself and him. When his indigo eyes turned to her, her legs felt like jelly.

"Lady Cersei," he acknowledged her, voice soft and soothing, before he turned his eyes to his brother.

"Father wants you to return."

"I was on my way back," the other prince sounded almost petulant. "I was just thanking Tyrion and Cersei for their hospitality."

"Of course," Rhaegar said softly, looking down at Tyrion, who bowed his head,

"Prince Rhaegar."

Rhaegar took his words with a nod but said nothing, "You are to stay in your chambers for the remainder of the evening." He didn't wait to hear his brother's reply. He turned to leave, just as quickly as he had arrived.

"Prince Rhaegar," Cersei called after her future husband. Pleased, when he stopped, and looked over his shoulder towards her.

It took all of her poise not to melt from that beautiful stare, but she proved her strength and her courage by finishing her thought, "I wish you well in your bout tomorrow."

No, I wish you victory! She immediately, but quietly corrected herself, fearing her mistake may cost her the affection of her prince.

"You are kind, my lady," and with that reply, he left them.

My lady, she shivered in delight, a tantalizing feeling skimming just beneath her skin as she repeated the words her prince spoke to her before he left.

Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.


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Curious to see what Daeron does next? You can get a head start on Daeron the Defiant: A Second Dance of Dragons by checking out the early chapters on my Website at https://dravenshadefall-shop.fourthwall.com

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