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25% Daeron the Defiant: A Second Dance of Dragons (Complete) / Chapter 11: Chapter 11: Dalliance

Chapter 11: Chapter 11: Dalliance

Jaime:

He groaned.

Jaime followed that up by silently cursing Robert. It had been him, who had insisted they drink, and they did and then the wine kept flowing: To celebrate Daeron's victory! Robert had said as if it was obvious.

We drank and we celebrated as if it had been us who had bested the crown prince and won a famed sword, another groan followed, as the hazy images of last night assaulted his mind.

Damn him, Jaime blinked in the dim light of his chambers. His full bladder and grousing stomach making it impossible for him to try to go back to sleep and to pretend that he was well. His decision made, he pushed away the covers, got up and made his way to the chamber pot.

I could refill a half dozen bottles, he thought wryly, after relieving himself of what felt like all the wine he had drunk last night. What a vintage that would be, he smirked, lion's shower, he mused, Lannister Gold, he chuckled, finding the levity a nice reprieve to the gnawing headache. More names came to him while he washed his face and hands. They varied in amusement.

He inspected his appearance of the looking glass that hung above his table. Paled faced, disheveled hair, with green eyes blearily looking back at him. The Heir to Casterly Rock, he silently decreed, he could sense his father's glare, hear the disapproval in his tone if he saw Jaime in such a state. Jaime thought himself brave, but he wasn't foolish enough to risk his father's ire by leaving his chambers in such a state.

A sudden knock at the door got his attention, and caused a brief, but annoying throb behind his right eye. He groaned, sending a glare in the door's direction.

"Jaime?"

"Ned?" Confused at the unexpected arrival of his friend, Jaime made his way to the door to let him in. When he opened it, he put a fake smile in place to try to mask his current misery.

Ned wasn't fooled for a second. His grey eyes pierced through the deception. He looked him over, a touch of pity flickered onto his expression. "You're not the first person Robert's talked into drinking, you know." The faint hints of a smile played on his lips. "Why do you think I'm here?"

Jaime chuckled, "Never again," he vowed, a moan followed when a fissure of pain wracked through his skull. He stepped aside to let his friend in. "Tell me how does my former friend fare?"

"He's awake," Ned ignored Jaime's insincere claim of him ending his friendship with the heir to Storm's End due to last night's drinking. "Robert's out in the training yard." He chuckled when he noticed Jaime's frown. "He's sparring with some of the guards."

It was bad enough Robert got Jaime to drink so much that put him in this state, but to know Robert was out there without any ailment while Jaime was suffering. It made him inwardly curse the unfairness of it all.

"I felt the same way," Ned seemed to sense Jaime's thoughts. "It was back in the Vale, and Robert and I had gotten into Lord Arryn's larder," he admitted sheepishly, "I was in bed all day, suffering while Robert was back out going through his usual routine as if we hadn't drunken…" He stopped, "It doesn't matter."

Jaime grinned, "Thanks," he meant it, "That helps."

Ned returned the smile, "Aye, I thought it might. I was worried I'd find you in a similar state."

He gestured to himself to show that his friend was right in his suspicion.

"Will you be joining us in the yard?"

"Aye," Jaime was looking forward to it. "Beating Robert may be the cure I need." He tried his best to sound confident, but his scratchy throat made it difficult. "Is Prince Daeron out there with him?"

"No, but I expect he'll join soon. No doubt, he'd like to test his new sword."

"He isn't the only one," Jaime hoped his friend would lend him the sword so that he could have a chance at wielding the famous valyrian steel sword. He was sure Daeron wouldn't object. That was how the Prince was with his friends-generous and loyal.

"I'll let Robert know to expect you," Ned made his way back to the doors to leave.

"Thanks, Ned," Jaime called to his friend, "I appreciate it."

The northerner nodded and smiled, "Just make sure you beat him."

"I will." That would be his tonic- vengeance, and one he'd drink gladly.

An hour later only found Jaime moderately better. He had washed and dressed, breaking his fast on a bit of bread, jam, and bacon. He didn't dare test his stomach, and found it difficult to eat with the pain residing in both his head and gut.

He ate alone. He wasn't surprised not to find his sister, believing she was probably mourning the loss of her beloved prince. I tried to warn her, he thought, to soften the blow and her expectations, he shook his head, she's blind when it comes to Rhaegar.

After finishing his meal, he returned to his chambers, and finished his letter to Elia. He scribbled a few lines about the duel between Daeron and Rhaegar, promising to send another letter soon with more details if pressed, before he signed it, and sealed it.

He hoped it wouldn't take too long to reach Elia in Dorne. Jaime was always anxious after sending them, beginning to quietly countdown until the next one from her would arrive for him. He missed her dearly, and longed to see her.

They were still not expected to marry for another year or more. A wait that seemed agonizingly long and cruel in Jaime's view. So he hoped to at least have her return to the Rock or for him to finally visit Dorne at some point in the future to help alleviate the wait of their wedding.

Jaime hoped his friends were still out in the training yard. Wanting to join them now that he was dressed and able to actually move without the fear of vomiting. He also wanted to thank Robert for his generosity with the wine from last night. His thoughts on his planned revenge on his friend came to a sudden halt at seeing his sister scurrying in front of him, looking frazzled and in a daze.

"Cersei?" He followed her. He had thought she was in her chambers. Expecting her to lock herself in their to mourn and vent her crown prince's defeat for days.

She looked up at the sound of his voice. Her green eyes wide, a flicker of something flashed across her face before it slipped away and was replaced with a scowl. She quickly tried to cover herself with a rough spun cloak that clung to her loosely.

"What are you doing out?" He halted her before she could escape. His eyes taking in her frizzled hair, and pale face, "What's this?" He saw the red on her dress, looking closely to see it was actually the smear of blood on her shoulders. "Who did this?" He growled. Pain and nausea all but forgotten to the anger he felt stirring within his gut at the thought of someone attacking his sister.

Cersei flinched as if struck, "It's n-nothing," she dismissed, covering the scratches and blood stains with her cloak.

"No, it's not," Jaime didn't like this one bit. He put his hand on her shoulder, she recoiled at the touch. "Cersei," his voice, softer and gentler. "It's me," he assured her, "You can tell me." He whispered, his grip on her arm softened, but he kept his hand there to remain reassuring.

"No," her voice cracked, "You can't do anything to help me."

He frowned. "Of course, I can," he argued. "I'm your brother," he reminded her, "They won't get away with this." He gently moved her away from the corridor they were in to an alcove where he hoped they'd avoid attention.

"He already did," Cersei whimpered, ducking her head.

Jaime felt heat pour into his heart-hot and bubbling. He could never remember seeing his sister looking so dejected. This wasn't his strong, vibrant sister. She seemed a shadow of her former self.

"Father must be told."

"No," Cersei's voice hitched.

Jaime frowned, trying to calm the anger that stirred within his chest. He didn't want to sound impatient or unsympathetic to his sister's plight. "Why not?" He asked softly through gritted teeth biting down on his rising frustration at her unwillingness to have him help her.

"Because, you won't be able to do anything." She took a steady breath as if to compose herself before straightening up. Her green eyes determined if not red rimmed, her face defiant if not slightly pale. "It would be wise if you just pretended this didn't happen, brother," She tightened the cloak around herself, "That you didn't see me."

"I can't," he held up his arm to stop her from leaving. "How am I suppose to forget this?" He shook his head in dismay. He gestured to her, "look at you? What sort of brother would I be if I turned the other way."

"The smart one," Her green eyes were pleading.

"No," he refused to believe that. "Please, Cersei," he encouraged, "I can help you. Let me help you."

"Oh Jaime," a touch of sadness in her voice, her hand went to his face. "You can help me by not getting involved."

"Cersei," Jaime exhaled irritably.

"Lord Jaime?" A messenger had spotted them and made a beeline towards them.

It was all Cersei needed to slip out from his grip and leave the corridor, heading in the direction of her chambers. "What?" Jaime demanded, unbridled annoyance lacing his tone at having him being interrupted allowing Cersei to escape him before he could figure out what happened to her.

"My apologies, m'lord," the messenger blanched, "Your father requests your presence-Immediately."

When Jaime had been told that his father requested an audience with him, he expected it to be in his father's solar. That assumption was proven wrong when it was the stables not the solar where he was led to by a pair of servants and a handful of guards. They informed him that Lord Tywin was out in the Kingswood and that was where Jaime was expected to meet him.

So off he rode out of the capital with a retinue of guards behind him to find his father's party in the Kingswood. Thankfully, for Jaime it hadn't taken him too long to see the Lannister banners through the thick foliage of the woods. Slowing his horse to a trot, he followed the path of Lannister red. Seeing guards greeting him with bowed heads, who were spread throughout a small area of the wood to make sure neither animal nor man bothered the Hand of the King.

It was then that he spotted his father. He was standing tall and proud dressed in a crimson doublet with gold trimmings and roaring lions. The golden chain that symbolized his title as Hand of the King hung loosely around his neck. He was walking on the road, a pair of guards behind him. He looked to be deep in thought, but the sound of the approaching horses caught his attention and Lord Tywin Lannister, Hand of the King, Warden of the West, Lord of Casterly Rock, and Jaime's father turned in their direction.

"Ah, Jaime," his father greeted him, even atop a horse while his father was standing Jaime still felt small in his presence.

"Father," he returned the greeting, a guard came forward to take the reins of his horse. He nodded his thanks before dismounting. Jaime looked around the surrounding woods all he could see was Lannister guards fanned out and on patrol. "Was there something wrong with your solar, Father?"

"Lions attract the attention of the lower beasts," His father observed, "and I didn't want our words caught in a spider's web." He then continued on his way down the road that cut through the Kingswood leaving Jaime to follow him.

"Has something happened?" Jaime chided himself for asking the obvious. Of course something had to have happened ! Otherwise his father wouldn't have thought it necessary for them to meet and speak here instead of back at the Red Keep.

"Yes," his father confirmed, but offered no further explanation or clarification.

Jaime bit down the frown he wanted to show knowing it would earn him a scolding and would hinder his chances of learning more from his father. He wasn't one for silences, but he understand his father well enough to know he seemed to thrive on them. Tywin Lannister had no problem letting silence settle over any conversation or company he was in for as long as it took to give him an advantage.

He hated silences and was determined to end this one but it was his father who uncharacteristically broke it. "What do you know of Prince Daeron?"

"He's a great man," Jaime answered quickly, putting aside his confusion at the unexpected question. "A true friend," Trying to think on what more could be said about the prince who Jaime saw as his closest friend, akin to a brother, the last part Jaime voiced out loud to his father.

"I once thought the same about Aerys," His father noted softly, "It was I who knighted him. It was he who asked me to do it, and I did so gladly because he was my friend."

Jaime was stunned at seeing this rare slip of reminiscing from his father, who seemed to care little for his past especially when he was younger since it usually related to his father, Jaime's grandfather Lord Tytos. That didn't mean Jaime hadn't heard the stories about his father and the king in their youth, but it had never been from him. It had always come from his mother or one of his uncles or from idle gossip he had picked up whether it was in Casterly Rock or in King's Landing. His father had always been stern and quiet when the subject was mentioned.

"I erred in my judgment," he stopped to face Jaime. "Do not make that same mistake."

"Daeron isn't the king," Jaime argued, felt the need to defend his friend's character from that unfair comparison. He remained unflinching under his father's stern gaze. "He's a better man then him, the Crown prince too!"

His father regarded him silently for a few heartbeats before turning away and continuing walking. "Prince Daeron's shown to be a skilled fighter. His display within the Great Hall will be talked about for some time. As will the sword he earned the right to carry and pass down to his heirs." He pointed out, "However, it was only recently that he's proven his character to me."

"Father?"

"The Prince met with me this morning and informed me what his father did ." The flecks of gold in Tywin's eyes seemed to burn at his last words.

Jaime was about to ask what his father meant when it became suddenly clear. "Cersei," realizing now why his sister had begged him not to pursue the topic and wanted it to be forgotten. The thought of the king attacking his sister made his blood boil, he balled his fists at the side. King or not, he couldn't control the lash of anger that stormed in his chest at the image of the king attacking his sister.

"An injustice has been done to our family," Father's voice was soft, but it still easily punctured through Jaime's thoughts. "One I will not forget nor will I forgive." He took a calming breath, a glint shone in the golden flecks of his green eyes. "But It may be something that we can press to our advantage. Reparations could be demanded or threats can be made," he continued. "If he thinks he could get away with abusing my daughter? Then he's madder than I thought." His jaw clenched. "My daughter," he growled, as ferocious as the lion sewn onto his doublets.

Jaime had never seen his father so furious. "Will you resign?"

Tywin shook his hand, "Aerys won't accept it, even if I threaten to let this slip. He'll struggle and fight to keep us close and this quiet. After all, he is still our king." His lips dipped in distaste at his last words spoken. "That still makes him powerful and dangerous. With plenty of sycophants who would pay dearly to see our family tarnished or destroyed."

"What will we do?" Jaime wasn't about to let someone further hurt or threaten their family. He knew his father would've come up with several plans already to appropriately handle this situation and to ensure their family stayed on top.

His father's eyes flicked around the empty road save for a few patrolling Lannister guardsmen before moving onto the trees that surrounded them and then to the branches that swayed over them. In each glance he looked to be trying to spot spies and shadows that were listening in on their conversation. In the seconds of silence that followed before his inspection eventually ceased and he seemed satisfied with the privacy they had.

"There have been whispers from across the Narrow Sea. It seems Lord Baratheon may have found a match for the Crown Prince." Jaime was caught off guard by the unexpected and what he thought was unrelated news to how his father was going to address the king and what he did to Cersei.

"From a Volantene noble family with recent connections to Lys," his father's tone sharpened at the mention of the Free City. "It isn't a coincidence. I have no doubt this betrothal will benefit the Spider. If these whispers turn out to be true and this union goes forward. Aerys will find himself with a potentially powerful Free City Alliance."

His father's tone made it clear his dislike of it. Whether it was the alliance itself or the fact that it meant Cersei wouldn't marry her prince, Jaime wasn't certain. However he figured it was probably both. Knowing his father thought little of the Free Cities, and would no doubt see this as an insult that they were selected over their family.

This will devastate Cersei, Jaime thought, a twinge of sadness followed knowing how much his sister had yearned for a betrothal between herself and the crown prince.

"If Aerys pursues this folly and ties his heir to the Free Cities then we must adjust accordingly," Tywin observed, "We must focus our efforts on his second son."

"Prince Daeron," Jaime understood at once what his father was planning, "You want a betrothal between him and Cersei."

"You are the Prince's best friend," his father reminded him, "You are in the perfect position to help facilitate this match."

Jaime's stomach clenched. On the surface nothing was wrong with the suggestion, but that didn't quiet his reservations on the role given to him. He didn't like the idea of it. As much as he loved his sister he wasn't sure what sort of wife she'd be with her temperament and pride potentially making her a rather poor spouse. And for the sake of his friendship with Prince Daeron a part of Jaime pitied him if he was to be matched with Cersei.

"Do you understand, Jaime?"

He blinked to see the stern gaze of his father looking down on him. Jaime could feel the heavy expectations from his father settling on his shoulders. Despite his hesitation, he couldn't go against his father, "I understand." His father looked down at him with a small but noticeable smile. Jaime hated the swell of satisfaction he felt rise within him at receiving it from him, as it was soon punctured by guilt.

"You are doing the right thing," he assured him. "Family must always come first." His father's hand hovered over Jaime's shoulder before he finally placed it there. "Even in regards to our friendships."

Daeron:

"I could get use to this," Jaime gave Dark Sister a few careful flicks. His eyes never leaving the valyrian blade.

Daeron smiled at his friend's enthusiasm, "It would be wise if you didn't."

Ned chortled from his side while Robert guffawed from where he was standing across from Jaime. There he was dirty and sweating, after having lost in his bout against Jaime, but defeat couldn't puncture his jovial good mood since he blamed his losses on his inability to wield his Warhammer for their sparring.

The friends had met in the training yard to practice. It was their normal routine, the same one they've gone through ever since Ned and Robert first arrived to the capital. There a friendship between the four of them was quick to form and the daily continuous of it allowed the friendship to stick. Now sadly, this was their last day in King's Landing. They were leaving in the morning with Lord Arryn.

Jaime grinned, looking away from the famous sword and back towards Daeron. "Just a harmless suggestion," he explained, while the sword sliced through air.

"Uh huh," Daeron wasn't fooled. "I'll keep that in mind then," he added dryly.

"Can you fault me?" He asked, "It's magnificent."

"I don't think he's going to return it," Ned observed solemnly, but his grey eyes shone with mirth.

Robert laughed, as he dusted himself off. "It's as if you've never seen a sword before."

"That would make your defeat from me all the more humbling," Jaime countered.

Robert grumbled, but it was clear the jape didn't truly upset him.

At watching his friend wield Dark Sister, Daeron's mind drifted back towards earlier in the day when he presented the same opportunity to Jaime's sister, the Lady Cersei. He recalled the warmth in her eyes, the curve of her lips as she was enamored with not just the weapon, but the opportunity itself to wield it. It was the first time that Daeron thought she looked truly stunning. Before her beauty had always been marred, in his eyes it had been hooded by her petulance and her infatuation with his brother. It was in seeing her wield Dark Sister, in seeing her blissfully happy was the veil removed and it gave Daeron a glimpse of the woman beneath.

But then it was gone. When his mind reminded him how this woman cared little for him and had wanted his brother to win their duel. Those thoughts were enough to cast the shroud back onto her and to leave him disinterested.

She wants my brother and she's welcomed to him.

Besides it was another woman who was on his mind-Mina Tyrell. A woman who chose him, who wanted him, and didn't see him in his brother's shadow. Their time together last night was well spent, and he was eager in seeing her again this evening before supper. Just the thought of the her was enough for his pulse to quicken and for a smile to stretch on his lips.

"My Prince?"

Daeron blinked into the present to see Jaime was returning Dark Sister, offering it hilt first to him. "Thank you," he cleared his throat, hoping they didn't notice his mental drifting.

"Thank you," Jaime insisted, oblivious to Daeron's slip as his friend seemed more distracted by the ancestral Targaryen blade. "It was an honor to wield such a weapon."

Daeron smiled at his friend. "You are welcome," he patted him on the back, "It will not be the last time either if you'd like."

Jaime matched his smile. "I would like that." His green eyes flickering to the valyrian sword before returning to Daeron's face where he tried to compose himself, and hide his blatant interest in it, He shrugged, "If you insist."

Daeron laughed, shaking his head at his best friend's antics while Ned and Robert were quick to join in. Jaime watched it unfold with his cocky grin.

"I'm throwing a feast tonight in the Small Hall," Jaime announced once the laughter subsided, "To celebrate our new friendships," his eyes turned to Ned and Robert, "And to see you off as you leave the capital in the morning."

The reminder that their new friends were leaving brought a sudden pall over the mirthfulness they had just been sharing.

"I'd be honored," Ned agreed quickly.

"Aye," Robert added to his friend's sentiments, "An honor to drink you out of your wine," he laughed, infectious and loud, and it was enough to bring smiles and chuckles amidst the friends.

"A steep challenge, my friend," Jaime warned him through a smile.

"I'll have help," Robert slapped Ned on the back, before turning to Daeron. "Isn't that so, my prince?"

"Of course, cousin," Daeron had no intention of matching his friend in drinks remembering Jaime's mood and tales of how his morning was spent recovering from the previous night of drinking with him.

Robert grinned at his acceptance. "So it's settled," he then turned back to Jaime, "I imagine we can bring guests?"

"Indeed," Jaime allowed, "Despite the name, the Small Hall is large enough for some extra guests even when its forced to house your pride, my friend."

Robert laughed, uncaring of the jape at his expense. "Careful, Jaime, other men, weaker and less assured would see that as a slight," He wagged a finger at him. "Thankfully for you, you have me instead," he winked at that, his smiling turned mischievous when he nudged Ned's shoulder. "You heard Jaime, Ned? So make sure you invite your Dornish beauty for the feast."

"Thank you, Robert." Ned replied stiffly, but his lips twitched, proving the stoic northerner was no match to his friend's charms.

While his friends bickered and bantered about the details of the feast tonight, Daeron's mind went to the beautiful Mina Tyrell where he couldn't help but wonder about the possibility of bringing her as his guest…

"This just proves what fools my family are," Mina Tyrell lay tangled amidst the covers, naked and beautiful. Her hair was a mess of curls that fell around her face, but she didn't seem to care. Her blue eyes were bright and inviting, while her lips curved into that smirk of hers which Daeron found quite irresistible.

"They chase the indifferent dragon while the better one is within reach."

Daeron stood at the table, having slipped out of the bed to fetch them drinks. His back was to her, so she couldn't see the smile that touched his lips at her praise. Her words had a way of boosting his pride. With her he never felt like he was in his brother's shadow. How she looked at him, talked to him, touched him, there was never any doubt in his mind or heart that it was he who she wanted and nothing else.

"My lady is too kind," He poured them their glasses of Arbor Gold.

"Your lady?" The teasing lilt in her tone made his smile widen, "Two dalliances together and you've already claimed me as yours?"

He chuckled, turning to face her to see the mirthful hue in her eyes as well as her distinctive smirk. "I wouldn't be so brave or as foolish to make such a bold claim." He took a seat at the edge of his bed.

"Such a wise prince," her arms wrapped themselves around him from behind, "If such claims were allowed then would that mean you're mine?"

"Possibly," he breathed in her floral intoxicating scent, strands of her hair tickling the side of his face.

"Hmm, to possess a prince," A seductive whisper to his ears, "Now that is tempting."

A shiver of pleasure strummed through him at her touch and voice. "You could do worse."

"I very much could." She moved to sit beside him and took her glass of Arbor Gold and drank from it. "My brother would faint at the chance," She rolled her eyes at her brother's obvious bootlicking ways. "That is why this should remain our secret," A gloss of Arbor clung to her lips, "Only between us," her free hand moving up and down his arm. "I don't want my family or the court to infect this ." She proved her point by kissing him. He could taste the Arbor Gold. The kiss was a brief press of her lips to his, acting as a delightful promise of what was to come between them.

"To our secret dalliances," he tapped her glass to his, earning a smile from her before the two drank to their renewed agreement.

"Here I thought all I'd find in the capital is the smell of shit and bad food," She looked down at her empty glass. "I never would've thought to have snared a dragon." An inflection of pride in her voice at the observation. She got to her feet, taking his empty glass as she did before moving towards the table where the half empty Bottle of Arbor Gold awaited.

It was difficult for Daeron to keep his concentration since his eyes followed her graceful steps, the sway of her hips and naked bum as she moved to get them refills. "Snared a dragon?" He found his voice when she poured them a second glass, or was it third?

She looked over her shoulder towards him, smirking, "Just a saying," her voice was reassuring, "Besides if any of us was the dragon during this. It was me," she claimed proudly.

"You?" He bit down on the chuckle that wanted to slip past.

"Absolutely," she said quickly and confidently. "It was I who pursued you," she reminded him, "In this you were the rose and I the dragon," she sounded amused at the reversal of their sigils.

"Mayhaps," he wouldn't confirm her observation, "but it was I who plucked the rose."

She giggled, "That's what you're calling it?" A rueful shake of her head followed, as she turned to him after pouring their glasses. Her eyes shone in amusement, a smile clinging to her lips. "It is clear a sword suits you better than a harp."

He stood up, noticing the way her eyes darted down before returning to his face, causing him to smile. "You have very much enjoyed my sword," His smile only grew when she rolled her eyes at his choice of words.

"If only your wit was as sharp at that new sword of yours," She said unimpressed, but her eyes betrayed her, twinkling in the candlelight.

Daeron took the glass from her before pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. "It would seem my sword is never far from your mind," he winked down at her before taking a sip.

"No, it is not," she admitted wickedly. "That's why I told my family I was at the Sept. I'm lighting a candle to the Maiden. Thanking her for protecting my chastity and virtue or something," she trailed off, waving her hand, the amused glint in her eyes a clear indication of what she thought of it all.

Daeron couldn't help but chuckle at her excuse, "The Sept? That's where they think you are now?"

Her impish smirk was perfection in his eyes when he found himself the center of it.

"They do indeed, my prince," her voice a seductive purr. "That's why I must stay a little longer," she pressed her lips to his. "I have a devout reputation to maintain."

"Prince Daeron."

He looked up to see Jaime approaching him, he smiled in greeting towards his friend, "Jaime, are you welcoming all your guests in such a manner?" He hadn't even reached the Small Hall yet, he and Ser Gwayne were still climbing the steps when Jaime spotted them, descending the steps to intercept them.

Jaime returned the smile, "No, I am not," he joked, "so do not let the others know," his expression turned somber and his voice dropped when he continued, "I was wondering if we could speak privately for a few minutes."

"Of course," Daeron was surprised by the shift in his friend's tone. "Ser Gwayne," he turned to his sworn shield, "Will you allow Jaime and I a few moments?"

Ser Gwayne nodded, "Yes, my prince."

Satisfied, Jaime urged Daeron to follow him into a corridor with Ser Gwayne walking a respectful distance, far enough not to overhear, but still able to watch and intervene if the occasion called for it.

Daeron looked back at his sworn shield and then back at Jaime, "What's troubling you, friend?"

Jaime frowned as if confused at Daeron's apprehension. "Nothing," he waved that suggestion off, "I wanted to thank you actually."

It was Daeron's turn to frown. "Thank me?"

"Yes, about my sister," Jaime's voice dropped, "And what you did to protect her."

Shame filled Daeron's gut. He ducked his head as he recalled his father's beastly behavior while trying to push away his thoughts on what he would've done had he not arrived when he did. "Think nothing of it," he said tightly, "If anything I should be apologizing for my-"

"Don't," Jaime cut him off, "He's the king." There was a finality in his friend's tone, and his green eyes hardened. "Let us speak no more of it."

"Very well," he too had no desire to think or discuss the matter anymore. He had meant to say something about it to Jaime, after he had spoken to Lord Tywin, but the day slipped away from him. And when he did find himself in his friend's presence, he allowed his selfishness to overrule his senses because he didn't want the topic to drudge up the fun they were having.

"My family is grateful." Jaime told him, "I am grateful," his smile thawed the stoicism that had covered his expression. He patted Daeron on the shoulder, "You're a good friend, my prince."'

"You as well, Jaime," Daeron returned it, "And my father should be grateful for your family. You have served us well and faithfully." He added, "Westeros has prospered due to the friendships between House Targaryen and Lannister."

"They have," Jaime agreed, "So come let's celebrate that friendship." Jaime's hand remained on Daeron's shoulder steering him to where Ser Gwayne was waiting, "And to the new ones we've made."

"You will visit me in Storm's End?" Robert was adamant in his invitation. "You cannot leave me with only my brothers," he shuddered at the thought of it before dousing his dislike of the notion with more ale.

Daeron and his friends were seated together in the Small Hall, despite their small group they were as raucous and as messy as a group with twice their numbers. They had spent the night eating, and drinking, and joking as the friends relished their time together knowing it would be awhile before they were all together again. Dirty plates and goblets that went from empty to half-filled were the lone remnants of the feast the friends had shared. Which were starting to be taken away by Lannister servants who moved quietly and quickly as they went without disturbing them.

"You speak as if your brothers are Others, Robert," Ned shook his head, looking across the table at his friend with an expression torn between amusement and bewilderment at how his friend viewed his family.

"Stannis is as cold as them, I'll wager," Robert replied, "Gruff and stern, you'd think he'd seen fifty years instead of ten and four."

"Of course, I'll visit, Cousin."

Daeron had never seen the famous ancestral seat of House Baratheon. The seat, they took from House Durrandan after Orys Baratheon helped Aegon conquer Six of the Seven Kingdoms. It hadn't just been the seat of Storm's End, Orys claimed for House Baratheon, but their sigil and words too. As well as taking King Argilac's daughter as his bride.

Robert grinned, clearly relieved that he wouldn't be forgotten in the Stormlands. "You're a good man, Daeron." He raised his tankard in salute before drinking.

"Storm's End does sound like quite the castle," Jaime observed, from his seat at Daeron's right. "Be a shame not to see it."

"A tour and stay of Storm's End for a tour and stay of Casterly Rock?" Robert offered.

"Agreed, Though you're getting the better end of this deal. None better than Casterly Rock," Jaime boasted. "You're invited too," He looked over to Ned, adding the invitation not as an afterthought but as a sincere assurance that his friend didn't feel forgotten or ignored. "And you as well, Lady Ashara."

The Dornish Beauty who was sitting beside Ned smiled at Jaime's invitation. "I would be honored," she ducked her head in thanks, "Though I am sure I'll be seeing it soon since you will be marrying my dear friend."

A slight, but brief glaze could be seen in Jaime's eyes at the mention of his pending marriage with the Dornish Princess, Elia Martell.

Robert guffawed, Ned and Daeron traded smiles while Lady Ashara's purple eyes held a mischievous sheen to them at her teasing.

"I will indeed," Jaime confirmed, taking it in stride. Looking and sounding pleased at his future with Princess Elia.

That earned an additional smile out of Ashara who looked on approvingly.

"Hear, Hear," Daeron tapped his empty tankard against the table. He looked around at his friends who were gathered around him. To one side sat Jaime and Robert, and the other Ned and Ashara, she had come at Ned's invitation.

Lady Cersei had been with them for part of the night, but she had excused herself as soon as etiquette allowed her to leave. Her presence hadn't been missed and despite a weak protest from Jaime for her to stay longer, her departure left the others with no real reaction of regret or disappointment. She hadn't proven to be in the same good mood as her brother or had taken up the responsibilities of hosting this feast as he had.

She was morose and quiet, and though she sat next to Daeron on Jaime's suggestion, the seat he now filled, Daeron spoke few words to her. Finding himself with a difficult challenge of what to do or say since it had only been this morning that his father had touched and terrified her. An act that brought shame and guilt to Daeron, but he wasn't sure that was what the Lady Cersei wanted to hear nor have the incident being brought up at all especially when they were in the company of others. So he kept quiet as well in his dealings with her.

He was ashamed to admit it but he was a bit relieved when she chose to leave. As it gave him the selfish reasons of not having his mind being distracted or dwelling on what had occurred between her and his father. Feelings that he tried to push away, as the sliver of guilt wormed its way into his heart at such self-centeredness.

I am not that man, he told himself, I will never be.

A booming laugh from Robert pulled Daeron out of his thoughts about Lady Cersei to see Jaime was grinning. A certain glimmer in his eyes which made Daeron realize he had just said some clever jape. Ned's chuckling and Ashara's laughter only confirming his suspicion. He allowed himself to smile so as to not disappoint his friend in thinking he hadn't heard.

The smile didn't feel forced or deceitful to him, since it came quickly and naturally to Daeron when he was in the company of his friends. It may not have been Jaime's jape that was the cause of it. However, it didn't mean it wasn't any less sincere since it still came from seeing his friends' together and happy.

"I'd like to say a few words," Daeron cleared his throat to get his friends' attention, finding himself suddenly promoted to speak and to put together a toast for the evening.

"You came to this city as strangers and you leave as my dearest friends. I thank the Old and the New Gods for putting you upon my path. I consider myself fortunate for the friendships we've forged these last few weeks. May they endure the test of time and distance." He raised his glass, "I drink to you, Robert Baratheon, and you Eddard Stark, my newest friends!"


CREATORS' THOUGHTS
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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

Chapter 12: Chapter 12: Dorne

Joanna:

"You summoned us, cousin,"

"I did, Gerion," She wasn't bothered by the informal greeting, she came to expect such charm from him. She held her hand up to stop Kevan from correcting his youngest brother while Tygett did nothing in the matter, taking his seat, looking sour and uninterested.

She had called them to the solar, watching them take seats around her, the latest letter from Jaime was folded closed and at her elbow.

"Yes, Kevan, no need to waste your breath blustering," Gerion's green eyes gleamed in amusement.

"You're giving me a headache," Tygett poured himself some ale that had been brought to them by one of the castle's servants while Joanna had wine.

"To be fair, brother. You would be drinking regardless of any such pain I inflicted on you," Gerion took the seat, furthest away.

Tygett only grunted, deciding it was better to nurse his ale then continue bickering with his brother.

Joanna had gathered them all here because an opportunity had presented itself, and she could not ignore it. She would move forward with her plan first and then bring it to her husband's attention. She wasn't concerned of Tywin's reaction, knowing she had his trust in ruling the Rock while he was away as well as deferring to her when it came to their children.

So in her husband's absence she would rely on his brothers, who had served Tywin as advisers and councilors to help insure the continued prosperity of House Lannister. She would've included Genna as well, whose wit and cunning, she relied on, but sadly, she had been instructed to stay in bed for the remainder of her pregnancy.

"Is that from Jaime?"

"It is," Her fingers resting on the letter.

It had been a welcomed arrival as it gave her first glimpse of Tyrion outside of the Rock. He had been invited to The Water Gardens of Dorne by Princess Elia after Jaime had been invited to Dorne by Prince Doran. Tywin was reluctant despite Jaime's insistence his brother come with him. Tyrion hadn't left the safety of the Rock or Lannisport, but in the end, Joanna had convinced him.

A decision that looked to have been the right one as Jaime's letter brought with it great tidings. His words about his brother's time in Dorne caused her heart to swell with happiness.

He's happy, he enjoys himself, and has made friends.

The rest of which brought a few tear drops to fall on the letter, staining the paper and blotting bits of her son's messy scrawl.

They were tears of relief and joy overcame her at the thought of her son being well treated amongst strangers and making friends. Despite convincing Tywin to let him go, she could not deny her own fears that gnawed at her, having never left young Tyrion's side since he was born, and to let him not only out of her sight but so far away had left her stomach in knots, worried and fearful of what arrival awaited her son in Dorne.

She had not been the only one, Cersei too had misgivings, but never showed them in front of Tyrion who had been so happy and excited about the trip he would be taking with Jaime.

Putting aside her relief and happiness at Tyrion's warm welcome in Dorne. It was within this letter that Jaime had sparked the idea that she was determined to carry out.

"How are they?" Gerion always had a fondness for Joanna's children, doting on all three of them in equal measures. Regaling them with jokes and stories that easily catapulted him into the position as the children's favorite uncle.

"He is well," Joanna told them, "Tyrion is enjoying himself."

A relieved smile passed over the features of Gerion before he shifted his expression into a more relaxed look. It was brief, but telling only further showing his affection for his nephews.

"Jaime has also informed me, that Prince Daeron is expected to travel to Dorne after his visit in the Stormlands," She suspected the Prince had traveled to Storm's End, consoling his friend, and new lord, Robert, who had lost his parents in a storm on their way back to Westeros after securing a bride for Prince Rhaegar.

It had been a tragedy to lose Lord Steffon Baratheon and his wife, Lady Cassana. She respected them both, and considered them friends. Joanna wasn't alone in that sentiment, recalling the close friendship that Tywin had had with Aerys and Steffon when they were younger. A friendship that looked to have carried over to their sons as Daeron, Jaime, and Robert had become close friends too as well as Eddard Stark, Lord Rickard's second son. She only hoped their friendships didn't sour like their parents' had.

"I expect Prince Daeron to have already arrived to Dorne, but he will stay for a time, as he counts both Princess Elia and Prince Oberyn among his friends," Joanna continued, "That is why we will be sending Cersei to Dorne under the pretext of collecting Tyrion and bringing him back to the Rock."

With Crown Prince Rhaegar wedded to his Free Cities bride that meant Prince Daeron was the only attenable Targaryen prince that would be suited for their daughter, Cersei. It was important to move forward with Prince Daeron, as other lords would begin vying for the potential of marrying one of their sisters or daughters to Aerys' second son. What better way for them to start then under an inconspicuous guise as a visit to Dorne away from the prying eyes and shadows that are concealed in the capital and in the King's court?

"Another prince for Cersei?" Gerion surmised. Despite his efforts, he couldn't conceal his cleverness, even when he pretended not to possess it, settling for japes and bawdy stories.

It is because he fears that his wits could not match that of Tywin's, Joanna suspected, so he doesn't bother to try.

"Which number is this?" Gerion scratched his chin, feigning to be in deep thought, "Three? Four?"

"It is the second," Kevan chided him, sending his brother a look of disapproval.

"Tygett, I'm putting you in charge of the company of guards that will be escorting Cersei to Dorne," she turned to the only one who had yet to speak. "You will be leaving the day after next."

"Very well," he wasn't able to hide his dislike at the idea of having to travel to Dorne, "Does my brother know of this venture?"

"He will."

Tygett understood, and nodded, he finished his tankard of ale before standing up, "If you excuse me, I'll begin the preparations."

"Thank you, Tygett," She allowed him his leave, knowing that he probably chastened at being given instructions from her. He was a proud soldier, who prickled under Tywin's shadow, but he was loyal to the bone to their house so she allowed him his surly brooding.

"What of Cersei?" Kevan didn't make his opinion known of the plan or that it hadn't met with his brother's approval yet. He looked to be struggling with the proper description, "She has been unwell for some time."

"That's a gentle way of putting it," Gerion snickered, "Our little niece is sulking."

Their observations rung true.

Cersei had been inconsolable when it had been announced that a bride had been found for the Crown Prince. She had unwisely allowed delusions to settle in her head that Rhaegar was already hers, and had dreamed of the golden haired dragons she'd give him. With shattered dreams, she was sent back to the Rock by Tywin, where she sobbed and raged upon losing her beloved Rhaegar.

She had refused to go to the wedding, lingering at the Rock where she brooded and cursed her misfortune and the royal life that had been denied her. The only light for her had been Tyrion, but he was now in Dorne with Jaime. His absence had only let Cersei sink deeper into despair.

"I will handle Cersei," Joanna assured them, "I will remind her of her duties to our family. And what is expected of her."

"What of the King?" Kevan asked, "He's denied us once already." He frowned, "What's to stop him from denying us again?"

"It isn't in Aerys' nature to make the right decision when our beloved brother is involved," Gerion quipped.

"Summerhall."

A quiet hush had fallen over the solar at the mention of the ruined castle that once used by the Targaryen family. It had been destroyed by a disastrous fire that had killed King Aegon the unlikely, and his son and heir, Prince Duncan, and countless others of importance.

"Aegon's doom," Kevan muttered softly,

"Can be rebuilt and restored, our family can finance it as part of a betrothal agreement between our house and the crown," Joanna wanted to pull them out of their reflective haze, "And it can be made Prince Daeron's seat."

She had once thought Castamere could serve as a suitable seat, but she came across problems at the idea, so her interest shifted to the former Targaryen seat in the Stormlands. She knew restoring it would delight Aerys. Remembering when they were younger how he use to enjoy Summerhall, and the feasts he'd host there as a Prince when he felt King's Landing was too stifling and Dragonstone too grim.

It was a bleak ruin now. A smoldering graveyard that signaled the near annihilation of the Targaryen dynasty. It could be remade to its former glory, where revels and feasts and tourneys could be had there once more and not a place solely for mourning and reflection.

"That would be quite the financial undertaking," Kevan said cautiously.

Gerion chuckled, "To most families, mayhaps," he shrugged, "But last I checked we're sitting on a gold mine, brother."

"That is to be discussed with Tywin for another time," Joanna wasn't as concerned as Kevan, but neither was she as dismissive as Gerion. Saying her husband's name had the desired effect as it brought the two brothers to heel.

"I'll write the letter to Tywin to inform him of what we're planning."

An hour later, Joanna found herself in the company of her daughter within the solar, Kevan and Gerion had departed with their appointed tasks, and Joanna was left to handle hers.

"Dorne?"

"That's right," She looked to see Cersei had been prepared for their meeting by the servants. Her face was freshly scrubbed, her hair washed, and her gown was clean and presentable save for a fresh rip among one of the sleeves.

In the aftermath of Rhaegar's wedding, Joanna had allowed Cersei her time and space to mourn and rage at the missed opportunity of being Rhaegar's wife and Westeros' Queen. She had hoped those feelings would stir Cersei's ambition and her pride at not allowing one rejected betrothal shape her life. She believed that Cersei would come to her not accepting such defeat and ready to move forward to get her revenge, but Joanna realized she was wrong.

I've failed her, she thought sadly, seeing her bereft daughter in such a state, I chose solitary instead of comfort when handling her distress. This only strengthened her resolve in making sure this betrothal went seamlessly. She would not have her daughter lose a second Targaryen Prince . Prince Daeron will be Cersei's husband, she vowed silently, no matter the cost.

"The time for reflections is over, darling," she squeezed her daughter's hand, "Westeros has lost an opportunity for a great Queen, and Rhaegar a lovely wife." Cersei's fingers squeezed tightly, "You will show the king and the court his folly and remind them that a lioness cannot be so easily spurned."

Cersei's reaction was a sniffle. Her lip trembled, while fresh tears threatened to fall.

"I thought I raised a lioness not a weepy house cat," Joanna chided her. She wanted to fan the fire that she knew her daughter possessed, which had been extinguished for too long. "A great beauty that was beyond compare to the maidens of this realm who would ensnare the proudest of dragons."

Her daughter wiped at her eyes, but no tears had been shed. "I am a lioness of the Rock," she hiccupped. Her lip was no longer shaking, and the pools that were in her eyes were gone, instead a simmering fire could be seen lurking beneath.

"I know you're upset, child, but you will use it," She confided in her, "It will motivate you and it will insure that you will not taste such bitterness again." She smiled at her daughter, thankful that she was slipping out of her brooding shell.

"It was suppose to be Rhaegar," she said petulantly.

"No," Joanna was quick in her reprimand, not allowing such a reaction. She hoped that was the dying outburst of her tantrum and not its beginning. "Rhaegar is lost to you. You will accept it and you will be glad of it."

"Glad?" Her tone threatened on disrespectful, "I would have been a Queen."

"So?" Joanna wasn't impressed,

Cersei was caught off guard by her glib response, "I-I'd be q-queen," she sputtered, "I-I'd have power," her eyes gleamed at the conjured future she let play out in her mind.

Joanna scoffed, "I didn't raise a fool," She shook her head, "You were at the capital?"

Cersei frowned. "I was."

"And what of Queen Rhaella? Did she have power?" She challenged, "Did she look happy?" It hurt her to voice the questions out loud, as it forced her to confront the grim reality that plagued the woman she had considered a dear friend for so many years.

She didn't want to be Queen, Joanna remembered, That crown had only given her grief and misery.

"No," she answered slowly, aware of the confirmation it brought, but she refused to let it dampen her for long. "Rhaegar would be different."

"You do not know that." Joanna noticed there was no conviction in her daughter's voice in her refusal,

"I do," she bowed her head, "H-he rejected me," her admission was a mere whisper, "I-I came to him, wanting to help, b-but he sent me away."

Joanna moved to stand behind her daughter, hugging her from behind. Her head resting on her daughter's, trying to soothe the raw emotions that she was experiencing.

"Then he is a fool, darling," She assured her, "And you are better off not being his wife." She kissed Cersei's head, "Distance can be its own cruelty."

Cersei didn't speak up right away, letting the heartbeats of silence stretch on between mother and daughter, as she composed herself. "I was stupid," she looked over her shoulder at her, "I won't be stupid again."

Joanna smiled down at her, "You will consider yourself fortunate, Cersei. Prince Daeron is handsome," her smile turning impish as she nudged her daughter's shoulder, "Do not try to deny it. You cannot fool me," her gentle ribbing brought a giggle out of her, and it was a peal of delight that filled her with happiness.

" Mother," she said when the giggling subsided, sounding flustered at the sensitive nature of the talk before them.

"Oh, Cersei, I was young once," Joanna dismissed her daughter's half hearted protests, "But I will not press the matter," winking down at her, "He is kind and charming, and a skilled fighter."

"He is," Cersei's tone had an odd touch to it that Joanna couldn't quite place.

She put that aside and continued, "The gods have put you on a different path to walk. Perhaps, it is with Prince Daeron that you'll find contentment, that you'll find respect."

Cersei responded with silence, whether she was mulling over her words or sulking at the glories lost to her, Joanna wasn't sure. However, she knew she needed to stamp out the latter or any hope of a blossoming betrothal between her daughter and Prince Daeron will surely die in its infancy.

"Cersei," She coaxed her daughter, "You must let Rhaegar go," She spotted the hesitance that lingered in her daughter's gaze, stubbornly clinging to a hope that wasn't there. "Please, child, for your sake."

"I will, Mother," Cersei said quietly.

Jaime:

Cersei is traveling to Dorne.

The letter had come from his mother and had been delivered to him at his chambers within the Water Gardens. It now remained crumpled in his hand as he mulled over its contents. It was brief and vague in case it was intercepted or read by unwanted eyes, but it was loud and clear to him what he must do.

Ingratiate his sister with Prince Daeron to ensure a relationship can take root.

He put the letter to the nearby candle that rested on his table. He watched it burn while his father's voice echoed in his head.

Family must always come first.

He sighed. Understanding what was to come and the role he needed to play but it didn't make it any less difficult. The Prince may not have been family, but Jaime considered him a brother.

"Jaime?"

He looked over his shoulder to see the welcomed sight of Elia walking towards him. His family and schemes were fleeting in the face of the enchanting princess. He got to his feet to greet her.

"Hiding in your room?" She teased, "Are you afraid of the sun ?"

"Not afraid," he grinned, "I'm in awe of it." He kissed her. His desire for her only growing at her contenting sighs and teasing touches.

"Jaime," she whimpered in between their kisses. Her hands sliding beneath his tunic, her fingers skimming across his skin, a searing touch that left him wanting more.

"My Princess spoils me," He said breathlessly when he pulled away from their heated embrace. A reluctant action but a necessary one, as he was expecting his brother shortly.

Her dark eyes shimmering amorously, "My lion is good to me." She kissed his cheek.

He breathed in her intoxicating scent. She smelled of lemons and desire. The impulse to continue their kiss grew and burned within despite his efforts to stem them. He took her hand and led her to the table where Dornish wine awaited them. "Have you heard from Ashara?"

"I haven't," Elia frowned in her answer, "They should've reached Starfall by now."

The they were Jaime's friends, Robert and Ned. The two had accompanied Prince Daeron from Storm's End and had feasted a night at Sunspear with Prince Doran before continuing their voyage to Starfall. It was there where Ned was going to ask Lord Dayne for Ashara's hand in marriage.

Jaime poured them each a glass of the wine. This was a strongwine vintage and one of the few Dornish wines that he liked. He handed her a glass, "I'm certain they've been too busy feasting and celebrating the betrothal and have forgotten to write." The excuse felt hollow even to his ears.

Elia sent him a skeptical look that revealed she too felt his words sounded weak.

"I'm sure we'll hear from them soon," Jaime tried a different approach, taking the seat beside his own betrothed. "Lord Dayne would be a fool to deny Ned."

She took his words in silence as she sipped her wine. "Let us pray you are right."

"When am I wrong, Princess?"

"Too often," Her smile dampening her rebuke.

He laughed, "Your wit is as sharp as your brother's spear, my lady."

"Sharper," she corrected.

Jaime looked down at his untouched glass of strongwine, taking a small sip and savoring the sweet taste that came with it. "How is Oberyn liking his potential bride?"

A party from the Reach had arrived a few days ago. It had been Oberyn's ideas and not of his older brother and ruling prince, Doran. So it came as a surprise to all when he announced that he invited Mace Tyrell's sister to the Water Gardens with the intentions of considering a possible betrothal between himself and the Lady Tyrell.

As an outsider to Dornish politics even Jaime saw it as a smart match. A betrothal between a Lady of Highgarden and a Dornish prince could help to soothe past bitter rivalries between the Reach and Dorne.

"You don't know?" Elia frowned, "He never told you?"

"Who?" Jaime felt the frustration bubbling up. "Never told me what?"

"Lady Mina, she isn't for my brother." Elia answered simply, "She's Prince Daeron's paramour."

"Wait, what?" Jaime didn't understand.

"She is his secret paramour," Elia said sympathetically, sensing his hurt and confusion upon not knowing earlier.

"How did you know?"

"Oberyn cannot keep secrets from me," she shrugged, "Besides Oberyn getting married?" She sounded amused, "He has no intention of committing such folly."

"I didn't know," He mumbled, unable to deny the hurt that came with it. He thought Daeron a brother, and yet when he needed to confide a secret, it was Oberyn not Jaime he turned to.

Is he wrong? The thought came to him, as soft as a whisper, Your family wants him with your sister, who would you choose? His happiness or your family's?

Jaime frowned at being confronted with that truth. It was a touch that broke from his musings, looking down to see the soft, tanned hands of his betrothed atop his. His eyes found her face, where she sent him a look of understanding. In seeing her he didn't have the energy to care about his family's plotting and his father's schemes. That didn't matter to Jaime which prompted him to ask.

"Does she make Prince Daeron happy?"

"Yes."

"Good."

She smiled towards him, "You're a good friend, Jaime," She squeezed his hands, "Prince Daeron loves you as a brother. Please don't see this as a slight of his trust towards you."

He returned her smile. His spirit was buoyed by her words, finding himself so grateful at having a betrothed who cared so much. Despite her supposed fragility that never stopped her from being his rock. Her compassion made her stronger than Jaime thought he'd ever be.

"Auntie Elia!" A delighted squeal broke the comfortable silence that had fallen on the betrothed couple.

The two turned to see Tyrion waddling into the room. His mismatched eyes were solely set on the Princess of Dorne. He had a bright smile as he approached her, "Auntie Elia, are you coming with us to the fountains?"

Auntie Elia, Jaime couldn't help but grin at the name. His younger brother spent much of his time here with Doran's daughter, Princess Arianne and Oberyn's bastard daughter, Obara, both of whom called Elia their Aunt. Not wanting to be left out, Tyrion started to call her that too.

Elia took to the name with delight, "Tyrion," She stood up to greet him.

His younger brother was usually shy and reserved in the presences of strangers. That quickly changed during his brief time at the Water Gardens and being around Princess Elia. Like the sigil of her house, her warmth melted away his shyness. She showed him nothing but smiles and kindness and in doing so earned the affection of a timid boy and securing her place in Jaime's own heart.

She scooped him up and kissed his cheek much to his joy. "How is my favorite Lannister?"

"We're gonna play in the fountains," he answered, savoring the fondness she showed him.

"Who's we?" Jaime took his brother from Elia's arms, knowing that the weight could be troublesome for her if she held him too long.

Jaime got his answer not from his brother but by the loud intruders who allowed themselves into his room. Tyrion squirmed in Jaime's grip at their arrival, clearly favoring being with them. He put his fidgeting brother down just as Princess Arianne and Obara began circling Jaime's legs. The girls were three, younger than Tyrion, but that never stopped them from acting as if they were his older sisters instead, something that his brother didn't seem to mind.

"Auntie Elia," Obara greeted her, "Are you coming with us?"

"Yes, Auntie?" Arianne turned to her as well, "please?"

"Am I invisible?" Jaime was dramatically looking around the room to see if he could be seen. His performance garnered laughs from the children.

"No, Uncle Jaime," Arianne answered quickly.

Despite them only being betrothed and not married that didn't stop the children from calling him uncle. It was something that Oberyn actively encouraged. Jaime didn't mind it, he liked it as it served as a reminder of his pending union with Elia. "Then why aren't you asking me?"

"Because," Obara said as if it was obvious, "We know you're coming."

Jaime laughed, admiring their confidence, and realized they had a point. He always folded to their requests and it seemed it hadn't gone unnoticed.

Elia was giggling from where she stood. Holding Tyrion's hand while her nieces were tugging at the skirts of her dress. "Well, of course, I couldn't leave my lions in the company of such dangerous beauties?"

Obara and Arianne cheered. They exchanged grins before racing each other towards the fountains. The servants that were tasked with watching them were forced to follow them, hopelessly calling back to them to slow down.

"We shan't let them beat us," Jaime picked up Tyrion, who encouraged it with a laugh, "What do you say brother?" He carefully placed him atop his shoulders, "Shall we try to catch them?"

"Yes!" Tyrion exclaimed, his stubby hands clinging tightly to Jaime.

"We shall need a Princess' blessing?"

"Is that right?" Elia asked with a knowing grin.

"Of course," Jaime insisted, "It's only proper."

"Proper!" Tyrion echoed happily.

Elia shook her head, but her smile never left her face as she approached the Lannister brothers. "Well only because its proper."

He bent down so she could reach Tyrion, who was thrilled when she kissed both his cheeks for his blessing.

Jaime cleared his throat, grinning as he did.

Elia rolled her eyes, "Jaime," she murmured softly, "You will always have my blessing," She promised him, before kissing his lips. It was a brief but intoxicating touch, that ended far too abruptly when Tyrion yanked at his hair.

"Come on, Jaime!" Tyrion reminded him, "Before it's too late."

"Very well," The touch of her lips remained a distraction on his mind. As did the playful smirk she gave him when it was over. He stymied the groan, knowing there would be time for future pleasure with his betrothed, but right now he had a race to win.

Prince Doran's table that night was loud and crowded but Jaime had gotten use to it during his stay at the Water Gardens. He enjoyed the intimate setting where the prince and his wife hosted their meals, allowing the children to sit with them, both noble and bastard. That night they supped on lamb that had been seasoned with honey, lemon, and fiery peppers. It was served with grape leaves stuffed with raisins, onions, mushrooms, and fiery dragon peppers. To wash it down was an array of Dornish wines, red and strongwine.

The sweet and spicy foods of Dorne was something Jaime was still trying to get his stomach to accommodate to. The richness of the food and the variety of flavors ranging from sweet to bittersweet, and spicy to sweat inducing levels of hot and zesty. This meal was no different. He was never quick with his food, sampling and measured bites to get himself adjusted to the diverse palates that Dorne offered. He was also quicker with his wine, depending on it to help swallow some of the more difficult tastes that he had trouble finishing.

All around him conversations were happening, laughing and talking, as the guests talked among themselves, sharing and joining others in mid discussion. It was loud, but Jaime found a comfort in the noise, the closeness of the Martell family was warm and he had to admit he enjoyed the atmosphere it created. It was a stark contrast to his family meals at the Rock which he enjoyed, but the intimacy wasn't the same to this. Discipline and etiquette was still expected even if it was just them eating in the Hall.

Even as he nibbled at the lamb, he overheard a particular bawdy story Oberyn was telling to the Lady Mina, his brother, and Prince Daeron. Its ending made Jaime nearly cough up his food while silently praying his brother hadn't heard the story or worse repeat it to their mother upon their return to the Rock.

Daeron was grinning when it was over. "You'd make a wonderful bard, Oberyn with such ribald tales."

"Really?" Elia asked, turning to her brother, "I always thought he'd be more fitting as the fool," She winked at him. Her jest earning laughs from Daeron and Mina, even Prince Doran's usual stoic demeanor cracked at his sister's mirth, chuckling along.

Oberyn paid her insult no mind, "My sweet sister always so supportive of me."

That ensued into familiar bickering as the Prince and Princess traded harmless japes back and forth. Prince Doran looked on, more resigned then surprised at the antics of his younger siblings. However, his eyes held nothing but affection for them while watching the interplay between them.

This night knowing the truth had Jaime more observant to the behavior of the secret paramours. He watched and scrutinized their words and movements trying to detect any sort of fondness or passion they allegedly had for one another. They were friendly but not overtly so, polite to one another, with innocent exchanges that followed. It appeared they seemed more disinterested, choosing to have conversations with those around them instead of each other.

It seemed so telling now to Jaime, but he was looking for it. When he hadn't, it hadn't raised his suspicion or caught his interest. It was a subtleness to it that didn't cause the person's attention to linger on the indifference they showed one other.

This was Cersei's unexpected rival, he studied the Lady Tyrell in a new light. She was wearing a green sleeveless dress that showed glimpses of skin that had once been pale, that had now begun to tan under the sun. Golden embroidery weaved throughout her dress. She wore a chain around her neck with golden rose petals. Her hair was brown and dangled loosely around her face.

He must've been staring too long for his gaze didn't go unnoticed, Mina turned his way, her bright blue eyes were on him. "Tell me Jaime, the Prince mentioned you sparred the day before."

The prince, before he knew, he would've thought she was referring to Oberyn, but now he couldn't be so sure.

"We did," he confirmed, realizing other conversations were dying down as more heads were turning towards him and Lady Mina.

"How did you fare?"

"He won!" Tyrion answered enthusiastically much to the amusement of those around the table.

"The first one, he did," Daeron smiled towards Tyrion, "But I bested him the next two."

"And the last one, Prince?" Jaime couldn't resist.

"It was inconclusive."

Jaime snorted, "That's what you call a defeat?"

Daeron shrugged, "The perks of being a royal prince, my friend."

"Indeed," Jaime chuckled, and he wasn't alone in the mirth as it rippled up and down the table.

In laughing with the Prince, Jaime didn't need to think about secrets and schemes. He could just enjoy their friendship even if it felt fleeting.


CREATORS' THOUGHTS
DravenShadefall DravenShadefall

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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