Jaime:
"Betrothed?"
The next morning Jaime found him in Elia's chambers where they broke their fast together. They were usually accompanied by Tyrion, but his little brother was still asleep, and Jaime thought with a topic this sensitive it was better to let him sleep a bit longer.
"It is not official," Jaime clarified, "But it appears Lord Dayne was approached about a possible betrothal between Lady Ashara and Prince Daeron."
They had a light spread before them of various fruits including: grapes, and oranges, some cooked eggs with bacon and baked flatbread.
Elia sat across from him, looking radiant even in the early morning. She dressed in orange silks that clung to her body in a way that had Jaime on more than one occasion miss his mouth with his food due to distraction.
She had only laughed and shook her head when she caught him. She had put a little bit of everything onto her plate, but now it seemed forgotten after telling her what Prince Daeron had told him.
"No wonder there has been no word from Starfall," She said sympathetically, clearly hurt for the friend she loved so dearly. "He will rebuff Ned in favor of this promise."
Jaime nodded, "That is what the prince fears."
They are not the only ones, Jaime had wanted to say it last night. However, like a coward he cloaked himself in silence.
"Jaime?" Elia's eyebrows furrowed in concern, "You're quiet."
"It is nothing, my princess," He didn't want to sully her hands with his family's scheming.
That did not placate her. "I'll be the Lady of the Rock someday," she pointed out, "Your secrets should be mine. Your burdens should be mine."
Jaime looked to see the seriousness in her features, the pleading hue in her eyes to allow him to open up to her, to trust her. In seeing her before him, he found his resolve cracking. "Lord Dayne is not the only one who is pursuing a match for Prince Daeron."
"Ah," Elia's face softened, "Your father wants one between him and his daughter."
Jaime gave a tight nod. He felt relief wash over him now that he unburdened himself with that secret. The guilt had been gnawing away at his insides like a vicious beast.
"You are too harsh on yourself," She stood up and made her way to his side of the table. "You are a good man." She told him, cupping his face between her hands. "And a good friend," She assured him, "Please do not forget that."
"I won't," he found himself lost in her golden eyes, shimmering with adoration. What did I do to deserve you? He wondered, finding himself thankful for the Dornish princess before him, who would soon be his wife.
"Good," she smiled, "You are not alone in this, my love," she reminded him. "We are one," She kissed his brow, "And we will make sure this betrothal is made."
"What?" Jaime hadn't expected that.
"Yes," she looked amused by his reaction, "I am not fooled by this betrothal between House Dayne and the Iron Throne. I understand what it is, and I will inform my brother of its plot too. It is not accidental."
"You will help my sister? My family?" Jaime knew that if the roles were reversed, his sister would not reciprocate this generosity. She would sneer, and mock, perceiving asking for help as a weakness.
"You forget, they will be my family too."
They do not deserve you, Jaime wanted to say. "How shall we move forward?" Realizing it was better to listen to her counsel then trying to take the lead. "Shall I say something to the Prince?"
"Not yet," Elia shook her head, "We should be honest since it does us no favors to lie to him."
Jaime knew she spoke truly, but it didn't mean that he wasn't disappointed. He was hoping the time of keeping this secret from his closest friend was at an end.
"It will not be forever, Jaime," Elia seemed to sense his conflict. "Only a short while, but knowing the prince he would agree to it in a heartbeat if it meant no to the Dayne betrothal."
"Then isn't in our best interest to tell him?" Jaime frowned.
"No, because Prince Daeron cannot decide who he will marry," she answered patiently. "If word leaked of this possible betrothal between your families then whomever is pushing the Dayne arrangement will tirelessly work to see theirs through," she explained, "We must let them believe they have time. Lull them into a sense of complacency and then we strike."
"Very well," Jaime agreed, impressed by her and said as much.
She took his praise with a bright smile. "You forget that I've been taught by my mother and Prince Doran."
Jaime wouldn't allow her to deflect the compliment completely. "My family will be thankful and the Westerlands will prosper by having you as their future Lady of the Rock."
"Oh?" There was a teasing lilt that he found intoxicating with her exotic accent. "And what of you? Will you be thankful too?"
"Especially me," He grinned, realizing how close their faces were. His eyes flickering to her lips which were curved into an impish smile.
"Show me."
"It was an outrage!" The Lord of Storm's End paced, muttering curses and protests of Lord Dayne's declining of the proposed betrothal between his friend and Lord Dayne's sister, the Lady Ashara.
Ned had barely spoke of the trip. This allowed Robert to retell their story of their time in Starfall. He tried to add a few embellishments to it to paint a unflattering view of Lord Dayne. Those had been the only times Ned had spoke and he did so only to correct his friend.
Jaime glanced over at the prince, to see he remained quiet. He hadn't even flinched at Robert's rage, which was an impressive feat unto itself. Especially when Robert mentioned his warhammer and using it on the suitor so as Ned could marry Ashara.
"How can you be so calm about this, Ned?" Robert demanded, who had spoke and acted as if he was the slighted party and not his friend.
"Lord Dayne has his reasons," Ned's tone didn't betray the bitterness of a spurned suitor, "She is his only sister and means to forge alliances." He frowned, conveying his opinion on how the woman he cared for was viewed as, "I am after all, only a second son," he sighed. "Hardly a prized alliance."
"Bullshit," Robert dismissed, "You're the finest man I know," He clapped Ned on the back, "My apologies to current company."
Jaime waved it off, "No, for once you may be right, Robert."
"My cousins speaks true, Ned," Daeron added his thoughts.
Boosted by their words, Robert continued, "And if its land you need, I'm the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands," he thumped his chest with his closed fist. "I can grant you land." His blue eyes shining at his promise, "And if no good land can be found then I'll just kick someone out of their castle and give it to you."
"Robert," Ned sounded torn between exasperation and amusement.
"Only a jest, Ned," Robert looked pleased with himself at having to finally get him to smile.
"Thank you," Ned made no attempt at accepting or declining the generous offer.
Jaime felt compelled to speak too. To offer land as well if needed to help Ned strengthen his chances with Lady Ashara, but he was not the Lord of Casterly Rock. I cannot give you land, he thought, but after talking with Elia, he was hopeful that he could do better: insure his friend could marry his dornish love.
"Were you able to see her at all?" Jaime knew the distance between them was difficult for the second son of Lord Stark to deal with.
"I did," Ned's face softened, "She was as lovely as ever."
Robert smiled, "Aye she was." He held up his hands when Ned turned to him, laughing as he did, "Peace Ned, you know I would never."
That was when Prince Daeron spoke up. "There is something you should know."
Jaime sent his friend a look, but was ignored. He moved his attention between the Prince and that of Robert and Ned, dreading how they'd react to this truth. He stood up, prepared to intercede just in case tempers flared.
"Yes, my prince?" Ned asked politely.
"It's me," he revealed, "I'm the suitor for Lady Ashara's hand."
"You?" Robert's follow up came out more of a growl than a question.
Jaime found himself taking a step forward. He was poised to involve himself if needed.
"I didn't ask for this," Daeron was quick to add, "Nor do I want it."
Ned's grey eyes stared at him, unflinching in their gaze. His expression gave nothing away, stoic and silent. "You should do your duty then, my prince." Ned said finally, "Marry her and honor your family."
"Ned, Listen to yourself," Robert chided, "Talking my cousin into marrying the woman you love." He clicked his tongue. "It's madness."
"It isn't madness, Robert," Ned corrected him in an icy tone. Despite his stoicism, it was clear that this was hurting him. "The Prince must do his duty to his family."
"I will not," Daeron put in bluntly. "Duty and honor?" He scoffed, "If that is what they call taking the woman your friend loves and marrying her yourself then I'll have no part of it." He shook his head, "It may not be blood that binds us but all of you before me know this: I consider you my brothers. I will not betray that bond or any one of you."
Before anyone could speak up, Princess Elia surprised them with her sudden appearance. Jaime knew at once something was wrong. "Elia, what is it?"
"Lord Yronwood has challenged Oberyn to a duel."
Rhaella:
"What do you think?"
She looked up towards her good daughter to see the Princess consort was holding her in cloth which had a poorly stitched single red dragon head amidst the black cloth.
"It is coming along nicely."
Rhaella had asked for her good daughter to come to her chambers for some early afternoon stitching. The queen had dismissed both her and Laela's ladies-in-waiting wanting to get to know the new princess in private. She had been married to Rhaegar for a few months, but she still felt more stranger than kin. A divide which Rhaella was determined to bridge, understanding the difficulties and pressure that came with being a princess consort and future queen.
"You are too polite, Your Grace," She looked down at her work, "The head looks more like a worm," she let out a light laugh, "And the body a blob."
"You are too hard on yourself, dear," Rhaella consoled her.
Princess Laela smiled in thanks. She was a beautiful young woman with the classic Valyrian beauty. She had pale gold hair and light blue eyes, with a slender, but womanly figure. When she spoke, it carried a lilt of a slight accent.
Lord Steffon had chosen wisely in selecting her. The Princess' father was of the Old Blood, and his brother, the Princess' uncle Jelicho, many believed would be elected a Triarch in the near future. Her mother's family hailed from Lys and brought with it influence and wealth. Her marriage to Rhaegar made for the strongest match that the Iron Throne has ever had with the Free Cities.
"How are you settling in?"
"Rhaegar has been kind and patient with me," She answered, her pale cheeks tinged pink at the mention of her husband, "He is a good man, and I'm thankful that he is my husband," her eyes shone with sincerity, "He played for me the other night when I was restless. He is so talented and has such a lovely voice."
"The Seven have blessed me with good sons," Rhaella was glad to hear that her eldest showed his wife kindness and doted on her in ways that his father never did.
Laela nodded, "I pray they bless me with children," She placed a hand upon her flat belly, "I am ready to give him heirs and spares."
Rhaella was curious of her condition, but did not press. "In time you and Rhaegar will be blessed with many sons and daughters."
The Princess perked up. "I only complain because it has yet to bear fruit, but I do not complain of the act itself," she smiled before her cheeks flushed suddenly realizing who it was she was speaking to. "Forgive me, your grace," she bowed her head, "I have spent too much time with a certain lady-in- waiting."
"Calm yourself, my dear," Rhaella tried to soothe her embarrassment. She found herself more amused then insulted by the princess' words bold as they may be. "I am no blushing maiden or frowning septa."
Laela giggled, "Your Grace is kind." She looked up when her cheeks regained their color. "However, I will be more mindful moving forward, I must remember I am no longer in Volantis or Lys, but King's Landing."
Rhaella commended her good daughter for her sense and said as much.
Laela looked thankful, "I'm still trying to find myself here," She admitted softly, "Each day I'm introduced to men and women, of different stations and families, trying to recall where they hail from, their house and sigil, their colors and their sayings," She shook her head, "I'm afraid I may faint."
"You will learn them."
"I've been studying since the betrothal was announced," she revealed, "I spent much of the journey to the capital itself with a tutor to help me so that I wouldn't be seen as some exotic fool."
"The people do not think you are one," Rhaella chided the thought itself.
"That is a relief," she replied, "However, that does not change the issue that I am still struggling with them."
"Then allow me to help you," Rhaella offered.
Laela's eyes widened, "Your Grace, I am honored, but surely you have other more important tasks to attend to then helping me with something so trivial."
Rhaella held up her hand before Princess Laela could continue, trying to calm the worried girl with a gentle smile, "I would love to."
Laela returned it, looking relieved at her willingness to help her. "You have my thanks, Your Grace."
Rhaella nodded, silently pleased that the princess was willing. She saw this as an opportunity to further get to know the young woman who will one day become queen. I must show her, Rhaella was determined, how to be the queen Aerys never let me be.
"I'm sorry, Your Grace," a new voice entered their conversation, both women turned towards the door to see Ser Alliser standing in the doorway. He was quick to bow his head at the interruption he caused. "Prince Viserys is here, Your Grace."
"That is fine," Rhaella stood up, "Please send him in."
Ser Alliser nodded, and stepped aside, and in an instant Prince Viserys appeared. He was smiling, "Mama," he raised up his arms for her.
"Hello, my son," She felt her heart swell at the sight of her youngest. She picked him up, kissing his cheeks much to the child's delight as he giggled. He was getting bigger and heavier, and she felt her back stiffen and her muscles begin to protest the weight. She reluctantly put him back down, he pouted, but she remedied it by holding him close which proved effective as he all but melted into her side when he noticed Princess Laela.
"Prince Viserys," She smiled warmly at the boy, "How is my new brother?"
Her tone seemed to encourage the shy prince, "Good, we talked about dragons!" His words mumbled together.
Rhaella ran a hand through his hair, "Which dragons did you learn about today, darling?" She knew how much he loved them.
"Verm-" Viserys' face scrunched up, struggling to pronounce it.
"Vermithor," Rhaella helped him, "The dragon of King Jaehaerys."
Viserys bobbed his head up and down, eyes gleaming with excitement, "The Bwonze Fury," mispronouncing its name. He then raised his arms and began to wave then as if they were dragon wings.
Laela oohed and awed at the display which only emboldened him to continue in his imitation of a dragon.
Rhaella watched with a smile, pleased to see her youngest enjoying himself. He had been in a sour mood when Daeron left the capital. Viserys had wanted to travel with him, and Daeron had been inclined to the idea, but Aerys had adamantly refused suggestion outright.
Viserys stays with me, Aerys had said sharply, I will not have two of my sons sully themselves with the Dornish.
Thankfully, the comments were made behind closed doors, but Rhaella was certain the words would leak to the. They'd take it as another slight from the Iron Throne.
He wanted Viserys to stay, but made no effort to see him, she observed of her husband's hypocrisy. However, in this regard she did not mind since she did not want to endanger her youngest with him. It was terrible enough that Aerys had turned Rhaegar and Daeron against one another for a sword.
Rhaella's chest tightened at the memory. She had refused to witness the duel that pitted her sons against one another. She hated how her brother used them as pawns and how the court supported and cheered as her children fought each other. He poisons them, she thought bitterly, and her sons foolishly lapped it up.
My children have become instruments to his madness, she thought despairingly. Her two eldest had never been close, and the duel between them insured they never would be. Daeron had left the capital with Lord Robert Baratheon's and his retinue of Stormland lords, shortly after the royal wedding.
A tug on the sleeve of her gown pulled her from her musings to see it was Viserys, looking at her with bright eyes. May Aerys' grasp never reach you, she prayed softly. Her youngest was no longer pretending to be a dragon. "I'm sorry," her hand rubbing Viserys' cheek while her eyes sought out the Princess, "I lost myself in thought," she apologized.
Laela took her apology with the diplomatic decorum expected of a future queen, "You are with family, Your Grace," she dipped her head.
"I am," she happily agreed, holding her son close. In that moment, wishing she had her other sons with her as well. Let us be together, she prayed, United, we are stronger than any force, she added, A dragon is a fierce creature, and we are dragons. Not even her brother could rip them asunder, what is one dragon in the face of so many?
"Mama, where is Dae?"
She looked down at her son, "You know where Daeron is," Yet, that did not stop him from asking for his favorite brother nearly every day.
His face scrunched up, "Why isn't he back?"
"He will be," She tried to soothe the growing swell of emotions that she could see bubbling within her youngest.
"Doesn't he want to return?" Viserys' voice hitched at the implication that Daeron would abandon him.
"Of course he does," Rhaella said instantly, scooping him up and placing him on her lap, "He loves you more than anything in this world."
Viserys' eyes gleamed, "Really?" The traces of a smile were beginning to push through.
"Absolutely," Rhaella insisted, "Don't you forget that," she told him, "Not ever," she tapped him on the nose and was rewarded with a giggle. Her heart sung at the sound.
"I won't," he said with all the severity he could muster.
Rhaella rewarded him with a kiss to his brow which he took willingly, before wrapping his arms around her neck. She returned the embrace, feeling him burying his head into the crook of her shoulder. The love she felt for him was so fierce, so rewarding, it was all she could do not to cry. My parents may have condemned me in my marriage, she thought, feeling tears in her eyes, but my children have saved me. She squeezed Viserys tight, and when she felt his hands slip to part the embrace, she kissed his hair before pulling away. Composing herself as she did, aware that they were not alone.
Viserys wiggled in her lap, and she let him be, by helping him down. Her sides were sore, and she winced in pain, hoping to have hidden it from her good daughter. Aerys' touch is as gentle as a monster's claw.
Luckily, it seemed Laela's attention was on Viserys who was running around the room with the energy and imagination of a child, babbling happily to himself and lost in his own wonderful world.
"He loves his brother," Laela's eyes following Viserys as she spoke.
"Yes," Rhaella agreed, "He loves Rhaegar as well, but the duties of a Crown Prince take him away from his duties as a brother."
"They do," Laella replied, "Viserys is fortunate to have Daeron."
"We all are," Rhaella loved all her sons, and considered herself blessed to have three healthy boys in which to dote upon. When she was younger she wanted a daughter so as to be a better mother to her then hers was to her, but now the thought of more children disquieted the queen.
More children meant more visits from Aerys, the fear was an icy chain that wrapped itself around her heart. She wasn't certain she was brave enough to endure her brother's attention. Or if I lost it… The possibility threatened to smother her. Can I bury anymore of my children?
It never stopped hurting, and numbness could do only so much in the face of all that grief.
"Of course," Laela sensed she may have spoken out of turn, "Daeron seems a good man," She amended, "And will be as loving an uncle as he is an older brother."
"He will be," Rhaella had no doubts.
"I hear we may have another join our family," Laela said in a teasing tone. "I wonder if that is why the Prince remains in Dorne."
"Oh?"
Laela was not put off by Rhaella's lack of reaction. "Why else would the Prince linger in Dorne? He is trying to court his future betrothed."
"I was not aware Daeron was betrothed," Rhaella noted in a voice that was neither kind nor unkind. She was aware of the rumours and had warned her son of them when it came to his involvement. Now that Rhaegar was married, the court gossiped about Daeron's pending future and what maiden would be the next tied to the Targaryen family.
"He isn't," Laela said quickly, "But I've been told Lady Ashara is a beautiful woman, mayhaps, the sight of her inspired him to chart a new course."
Daeron has seen her many times, Rhaella thought wryly, recalling the dornish beauty's stay in the capital last year. She had come as a prospective bride for Rhaegar, but had left without a match. Though, Rhaella noted that hadn't seemed to bother the young woman, and the queen understood why that was in her limited interactions with the dornish maiden and the second son of Lord Stark.
"He is with friends," Rhaella remarked, "House Martell is a strong ally of our family and Daeron has continued to strengthen our two families with these friendships."
"House Martell is one of the great houses?" She continued at the queen's nod, "I've been taught they are some of the oldest and most important families."
"You would be correct."
"In learning them I have noticed something," Laela said quietly. "Houses Lannister, Stark, Baratheon, Martell," she listed them off.
Rhaella was impressed. She didn't detect any struggles from the princess in her reciting. "Yes, those are most of them." She praised her memory.
"I am new to court, but I've heard that sons in each of those houses are close to your second son, Prince Daeron."
"My son is blessed with many friendships throughout the realm."
"Is it not odd?" Laela asked, "That they are friends with Prince Daeron instead of my husband, the Crown Prince?"
"They are all loyal men," Rhaella did not like the implication and made it clear in her tone. "Loyal to the Iron Throne."
"Of course," Laela was quick to agree. "Forgive me, I fear I may have become a victim of the deadly disease that sweeps through King's Landing," she lowered her voice, "Gossiping," she let out a laugh to offset the seriousness she alluded to when speaking of this sickness.
Rhaella measured the girl's words and decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. That these were innocent questions and not suspicious allegations. The silence that stretched between them appeared to bother the princess, so the queen alleviated it by giving her good daughter, an indulgent smile, and a laugh soon followed.
"I fear there is no cure."
Laela giggled, putting a hand to her forehead as if overcome with dizziness, she even leaned back in her seat as if succumbing to it.
Viserys had stopped playing his game. He approached his good sister, "Are you alright?" His tone wrought with worry. His little hand touching her arm, "Layla?" He had trouble pronouncing her name.
The Princess was quick to respond, shooting up from her position with catlike quickness that caught Viserys off guard, "My prince has saved me!" She cooed towards him.
"I did?" Viserys sounded equal parts pleased and surprised.
"Oh yes," Laela assured him, "You are my hero," She had her hand over her heart, "May I reward your heroic act?"
Viserys nodded excitedly at the idea of a reward.
Laela bent down and placed a kiss upon his cheek, which turned his face scarlet. She didn't tease him for his reaction, but instead kissed his other cheek. "I feel safer in the Red Keep knowing I have you as a protector."
Viserys shyly thanked her and moved away, his head bowed, but Rhaella could see his red cheeks. "He is blessed to have you as a sister," Rhaella remarked sincerely, touched by the interplay between her good daughter and youngest son.
Laela looked pleased at her words. "You honor me, Your Grace."
I may not be blessed with a daughter from my own womb, Rhaella thought, but in being with Laela and seeing her with her son, she realized she has a daughter, and one she can help and guide in the ways her mother never did.
"Rhaegar,"
"Mother," He was sitting at a nearby table but he rose to greet her.
She had been made aware of his presence by Ser Arthur who was standing outside the door to her chambers. She and Viserys having returned from a trip to the Sept. At seeing his oldest brother, Viserys was quick to greet him.
The crown prince regarded his youngest brother with a stoic expression before he acknowledged him, "Viserys, you look well."
Viserys smiled up at his brother. "I was a dragon."
Rhaegar took his brother's babbling better than Rhaella had expected, rewarding him with a small smile. "We are the blood of the dragon," he told him, "Never forget that, little brother."
Viserys nodded, but at that point, Rhaegar had moved to greet her.
"It is good to see you," she kissed his cheek and let him lead her to the table where they sat down, "But had I known you were coming, I would've instructed food and wine to be served."
"You are kind, Mother, but that is not necessary," he declined.
Viserys had slipped his hand out of her grip and had made to grab one of his toy dragons and moved to the corner to play one of his games, finding himself bored at the idea of hearing the adults talking.
"How is your wife?"
"She is well." Rhaegar's voice carried neither warmth or coldness at the mention of her. "She tells me she enjoyed her time with you."
"I did as well," Rhaella smiled, pleased that she had not been alone in that thought. "I lit a candle for her at the sept today. And prayed that you will be blessed with a son."
"The time is not right for that," he said more to himself than to her. Even in talking to himself, he spoke with a confidence that surprised her.
She was certain his words were in reference to one of the dusty old tomes that he sunk so much of his time into. Rhaella had never been one to chide her children for favoring to read, but she could not deny her growing worry that these books were becoming more and more an obsession of his.
"My brother remains in Dorne."
"He is visiting friends," Rhaella was caught off guard by her son's sudden change in topic, and noticed a certain look that flickered over his face at her answer.
"It may be in our family's best interest to pursue Lord Dayne's request."
"The betrothal," Rhaella called it for what it was.
"Yes," Rhaegar did not seemed bothered by her correction.
"Daeron will not marry her."
He frowned, whether it was her answer or her bluntness, she did not know, but she suspected it could likely be both. "He has an obligation to his family."
"You put forward the match," It came more as an accusation than an observation. They fight even now, Her heat ached, but now they are dragging in others.
"I did." Rhaegar didn't looked abashed by it.
She detested his anwer, but was thankful in knowing that he would not lie to her face.
"It is a good match," he repeated, "House Dayne has proven their loyalty to our family and should be rewarded for their leal service."
"You do not do this for House Dayne," She would not allow him to hide behind that weak shield.
Rhaegar picked up on her meaning, but ignored it. "He will take the news better if it comes from you."
She favored him with a humorless smile. "He will not take the news well regardless of who tells him."
"Destiny cannot be thwarted. The way ahead has been written and it is up to me to follow it," He said quietly, "I will sit upon the Iron Throne and I will demand loyalty of both my blood and my people."
Rhaella stared at her son, stunned by the coldness in which he spoke. This was Aerys talking, the realization made her stomach clench. Her sweet firstborn son poisoned by the politics that corrupt this city, a selfish taint that seeps into your very bones and blood.
Who needs enemies when you have family? She thought with melancholy, Who'd want that wretched Throne when the mere thought of it turns blood against each other?
A noise broke through her thoughts to see Viserys was suddenly sitting on Rhaegar's lap, who had moved to sit on the couch near the fire. Her youngest was playing with a silver dragon pendant that her eldest wore. Viserys was quietly mimicking the roars and growls that the three seperate dragon heads would make.
The sight of her two sons should've filled her heart with happiness, but she could not shield herself from the lingering despair that pricked at her heart like icy thorns.
"Daeron should marry for love," She let slip one of the few selfish hopes she had had for her younger sons. Her parents got to marry for love, and she'd never forgive them for forcing her to marry Aerys.
"If he wishes for any sort of allowance from the crown then he'll honor this betrothal once it is set," Rhaegar dismissed.
"Daeron will not marry her. He'd sooner flee to the Free Cities," Rhaella noticed the change in her eldest at this possibility. He does not care, understanding his intent came as sharply and painfully as a dagger's thrust.
Rhaegar would rather see Daeron an exile then have him in Westeros.
Aerys, the name of her brother brought with it unexpected relief. He bore no love for the Dornish and insulted them whenever given the opportunity. Her brother was never one to think hastily and she was certain that this betrothal would be stalled by Aerys' usual pricklyness. That meant Daeron would have time to betrothed to someone else, to marry someone else…
"There us!" Viserys declared happily, oblivious to the tension between his oldest brother and mother, "Me, you, and Dae." He sounded proud at making the connection of the Targaryen sigil and that of him and his brothers.
Rhaegar took the interruption smoothly, but made no remark on his brother's words.
"Which one is which, darling?" Rhaella humored her youngest, sending him a bright smile.
He listed them off, pointing to each dragon's head when saying one of their names.
"No, Viserys, the dragon must have three heads, but they are of Aegon the Conqueror and his sister wives," Rhaegar corrected, "And those yet to come."
Viserys pouted, "Why can't it be us?"
"Because that is not what was written," there was a glint in Rhaegar's eyes as he spoke of the three heads. He lifted his brother off of his lap with some difficulty as Viserys didn't want to let go. "I have things to attend to," He said as a means to explain his departure, "Mother," he bowed his head towards her and without another word he left.
She leaned back into her seat, suddenly feeling sick. She wanted to cry at what was befalling her sons, but she did not think she had the strength to weep.
"Mama?"
"Yes, my love?" She looked down to see Viserys was at her side.
"I'm here," he held up her hands for her.
She picked him up, feeling her heart swell at his thoughtfulness, "I know," she kissed his hair as he snuggled closer to her. In having him in her arms, she felt some of her strength return to her: Our family must endure, she thought, I will not allow it to falter.
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
Cersei:
"You came at a bad time."
That's an understatement, brother.
Cersei kept her annoyance to herself, not wanting to argue in front of Tyrion, who was currently sitting on her lap. She wouldn't forget how happy he looked when he saw her for the first time upon her arrival. It made her heart swell at seeing his reaction and how he ran to greet her. She had been quick to pick him up and she hadn't let go of him since.
The three Lannisters were in the chambers Cersei had been given by Prince Doran. They were adequate, she thought, not as lavish or as ornate as the ones that Casterly Rock had for esteemed guests. Jaime's betrothed was currently with her brothers. She was grateful for her absence. The last thing she needed was watching her brother act a fool for his princess. However, even gone she still had a way of making her presence felt since Jaime seemed more concerned about Elia's predicament then he did for Cersei's.
Didn't Father tell him how important this was? She wondered, Didn't Mother explain his role to him? Cersei hated to admit it because it felt like a weakness, but she needed Jaime to help her with Prince Daeron.
"So it's true," Cersei finally spoke, realizing her brother was waiting for her. She shouldn't have been surprised, Jaime always needed guidance. If only Father could see me now, she thought, I can lead too.
Jaime looked to Tyrion, their oblivious little brother, before he answered. "It is."
Way to be inconspicuous, brother, She wanted to roll her eyes. But she didn't have the time to dwell on Jaime's shortcomings, she had to focus on the matter at hand. That meant the gossip she had been hearing since arriving first to Sunspear and then to the Water Gardens had been true. Lord Yronwood had challenged Prince Oberyn to a duel. It was to be to first cut, but now the Dornish lord was dead, and the Prince was now known as the Red Viper.
Do the Dornish do anything but cause trouble? She thought at the headache they presented to them. "Where is the Prince?" She hoped she didn't have to clarify for Jaime. Cersei thought it was better to speak with some vagueness with Tyrion being present. Despite his age, he was astute and observant.
A look flickered across her brother's face that she couldn't quite decipher. "He's kept mostly to his chambers the last few days."
"Because of the duel?" Cersei knew the Prince was friends with Oberyn.
"Not exactly."
Cersei growled in annoyance at that infuriating and uninsightful answer.
Tyrion mimicked her, swatting his hand as he did, as if pretending to be a lion. It was enough to quell some of the anger she felt rising within at her brother's incompetence. She kissed Tyrion on the top of his head. He responded with a happy squeal which felt warmer to her then the Dornish sun ever could.
Jaime smiled down at the two. "He does stroll the Water Gardens in the early evening before taking supper."
Cersei perked up. Finally, something useful from him. She showed him her appreciation with a smile, he responded to it with nothing but a nod. I remembered when my smile meant the world to him, Bitterness laced her wistfulness, Now all he cares for is his Princess.
"Thank you, Jaime," She meant it, despite her current annoyance directed at him, he was still part of their Pride. Mother always said they had to look out for another.
"I'll let you know if he decides to spar again," Jaime took her gratitude with another helpful answer. "It may be another opportune time to visit without unwanted attention."
"That would be appreciated," Surprised by her brother's insight. This was the Jaime she'd need if she were to be successful in getting that betrothal. A brother that was focused first and foremost on helping his family, on helping her.
Something in Jaime's answer caught her interest. "He hasn't been sparring?" She didn't know the Targaryen Prince well but she remembered how dedicated he was to his training with the sword.
"No, he hasn't."
"Is that not strange?"
"It is." A strange look passed over his face as he watched her.
She tried not to be rankled by the clear insult that Jaime showed her. Do you think so low of me, brother?
"So what has changed?"
Jaime looked away, uncomfortable with either the question or the answer he'd have to give to sate her curiosity. It became clear she'd get no response to her question.
Wonderful, she thought dryly, realizing she wouldn't be getting anything more helpful out of him. Frustrated, she turned to Tyrion, who had been watching his siblings talk. There was undisguised fascination in his mismatched eyes, but when she caught his attention, his face split into a wide smile.
If only Tyrion could help me, she thought, He wouldn't keep secrets from me. He'd do anything to help me get my Targaryen prince.
What a wasteland, She couldn't help but notice as she waited for the Prince to make his expected appearance in the Water Gardens.
Why the Targaryens want such a region was beyond her. In her travels she saw little of note, the only constant in this area seemed to be the heat and the sand. What a dreadful place to live, she observed, and the Dornish are proud of it. The more she had seen the more she thought the Targaryens should've just let the Dornish keep their caves and deserts; let them live in sand and squalor.
She stood on the edge of one of the fountains, glancing down upon her reflection. She had chosen a low cut dress of red silk and gold trimmings. It had been selected by her mother to be worn for Cersei's first impression with the Prince.
The sight of you in this, her mother had said as she inspected the dress back in Cersei's chambers. And he's yours, she had added a smirk and a raised eyebrow to emphasize her point.
She was right, Cersei felt the eyes of many passing men linger upon her. None of them were brave enough to maintain their gaze when her eyes found theirs. Sheep, she thought, frightened to be caught in the sight of a predator.
I may be trying to seduce a dragon. Her fingers touching the golden lion head medallion that hung from her neck, but I will not hide what I am-a Lioness.
Her golden curls shone in the sun, not a single strand was out of place. Her emerald eyes stared back at her, mirroring the confident gaze she wore. Satisfied at her appearance in the reflection, she turned away and looked once more around the Water Gardens for Prince Daeron.
I am a hunter, She walked by a group of children, laughing and splashing in the waters. This dragon is my prey.
She fought the urge to frown when he didn't come into view. Cersei couldn't risk it marring her face in a first impression if he happened to spot her before she saw him. Let him see my beauty, she challenged, so that he can be blinded to the steel lurking beneath.
Then she spotted him. He was a ways away from her, his kingsguard knight behind him. She went to a nearby alcove so that he could not see her, but she could see him. I must study him before I am to ensnare him.
Prince Daeron is handsome, Mother's words playing in her head as she watched him. In seeing him outside his brother's shadow, she saw him in a new light. He was a man whose prowess with a sword helped to carve a hard, rugged physique that made her own eyes linger especially on his arms and chest.
She felt the heat rush to her face admiring the sight before her. Then he turned suddenly, she darted back, heartbeat drumming against her ribs. She dispelled a breath, hoping and praying she hadn't been so foolish as to have been caught. She stayed against the wall, eyes closed, breath in her throat and waited to see if he had seen her or not.
After what felt like an eternity, but couldn't have been more than a few minutes did she find her courage and peak to see. She dispelled the breath she had been holding when he wasn't looking her way. He didn't see me, relief filled her at that.
I'm not some ditsy maiden, she chided herself at being distracted, I am a Lioness.
If my family saw me in such state. She dreaded some of their reactions: Father would scold, Jaime would snicker, she put them aside, since it was Mother who she would turn to. Mother would smile and encourage her.
With that comfort, she stepped out of the shade and into the light. She walked towards the oblivious prince. Cersei felt the thrill of the hunt, humming beneath her skin. Her heart fluttered within her chest. This is my battle, she needed to steady herself, and I must make it a victory.
"Oh, my prince," She feigned surprise upon seeing him. Cersei followed her ruse with a swift curtsey. She was aware of with how her dress was cut that it would give the Prince a plentiful view of her ample chest.
"My lady," He replied politely. His look didn't betray if he had glanced upon her or not at the angle she hoped he had. "Your brother told me of your arrival to Dorne. How do you like it?"
"It is hot," she admitted with a light laugh, "I'm afraid I'm not use to such heat," she admitted, "I fear I may faint."
He frowned. "Shall I escort you back to your chambers?"
Cersei restrained from smirking. Men are too predictable, reveling in her triumph. "I would not want to impose." She demurred.
"Shall I insist?"
She smiled, "I couldn't oppose a Prince's order could I?"
He eyed her. His face masking his thoughts. He allowed the silence linger between them.
Cersei tried to keep her smile, but she felt it waning in the face of his stoicism.
Before her panicking thoughts could smother her, a small smile appeared on his face. "That would be unwise, my lady." He then offered her his arm which she took. Her fingers could feel the hard muscles beneath his shirt. She had the urge to tighten her hold on him just to better feel them, but she resisted.
She looked up to see his lilac eyes were on her. They're as mesmerizing as I remember. Being at the center of them and being so close brought an unexpected shiver of delight to go through her.
"I heard you took my brother's wedding hard."
The Prince's blunt words hit her like a bucket of ice water. "P-pardon," she spluttered, her composure cracking.
He saw her struggle, and seemed to take pity on her, holding up his other hand to stop her from speaking. "You were not the only maiden disappointed in my brother's wedding." He said the words lightly, but frost lingered in their wake.
Cersei felt her tongue unexpectedly numb, and her throat tight as she tried to recover. She could sense his judgment, and did not need to see his disapproval to sense it lurking beneath his polite veneer.
"You are right." She finally pushed out. I will not balk at a challenge, she rallied, "To marry your brother would've been a chance to become Queen of the Seven Kingdoms," She looked off into the distance. "What girl doesn't dream of that?" She asked, "What father doesn't instill that in his daughters?"
His eyes were staring at nothing in particular in front of them. Making her figure that he was measuring her response. When his attention returned to her, his mask remained.
I will break that mask, she vowed. "What do you think of Dorne, my prince?"
"It is a harsh place, my lady." He was honest in his opinion. "I also cannot help but dwell on those who came before me, my namesakes and their history with the land."
"Who do you see yourself as, my prince?" She knew enough history to know the kings he referred to. "The Young Dragon or Daeron the Good?"
"Neither, my lady," There was a curious lilt in his voice. "Those men were kings. I am and forever will be a Prince."
His expression thoughtful and more polite than the stony looks she had been getting since their encounter began. It was his eyes that made her duck her head. She was enamored with his eyes, lilac pools that she feared she could fall into.
It wasn't until they were out of the sun and walking under the shade of the corridor that would lead them back to her chambers, did she look at him and speak again. "What of your brother?"
Curiosity? Frustration? Pettiness due to his behavior, she couldn't say what prompted her to ask such a question. Cersei knew the difficulties between the two oldest princes. She had witnessed their duel first hand and heard of Jaime's observations over the years about their icy relationship.
He nearly stopped at that. "My brother,"
"Yes," she ignored the reaction it got out of him. She wouldn't cower to him, prince or not. His feelings for his brother were his problem, not hers. "Some say he will be the next Jaehaerys," she heard the quiet snort come from him at that, but she pressed on, "Others say Daeron the Good," she added, "But they do not know the Crown Prince like you do," She felt his arm tense beneath her grip, "So I was curious at how you'd see his future reign."
"Were you," his tone thick with sarcasm.
"I was," Undeterred by his response.
Prince Daeron didn't answer and as her room drew closer, she believed he wasn't going to. In a heartbeat, his demeanor had shifted, his lilac eyes glinted in the torchlight, and his body had instinctively stiffened and it was all due to the mention of his brother.
"This is my chambers," She announced, finding herself disappointed that it was over and that she didn't get an answer. However, Regardless of her feelings, she knew what was expected of her. So she smiled up at him, "I thank you for the escort."
He looked down at her, but his expression did not thaw. "You are welcome, my lady."
Cersei curtseyed before turning her back to him so that she could get inside her chambers. She felt his presence remain but ignored him. Her door was halfway open before he spoke.
"Aerys the First."
When she turned to face him, he was already walking away. Leaving her to ponder his choice.
"You told her." Just when she thought she knew the depths of her brother's foolishness, he'd surprise her by showing her that it went lower.
"I did." He was unblinking to her anger.
"Father told you this was for our family to deal with," she hissed.
"Elia is family."
Cersei wanted to slap him for that answer. Her hand twitched, but before she could act on her rightful rage, the door opened to show Princess Elia walking in, smiling at them, Tyrion holding her hand.
The Dornish Princess initiated their embrace. Cersei wanted to squeeze her with all her might. Let her struggle, she thought viciously, let her feel my strength, my wrath.
Elia turned next to greet her brother with a kiss that made Cersei clench her fists at her side. Her anger softened when she felt a small hand on one of her closed fists. Cersei looked down to see Tyrion's eyes looking at her with unbridled adoration, "Cersei!"
She forgot all about her anger when she picked Tyrion up. She then began kissing his tummy, he giggled and squirmed, until he was breathless. Cersei carried him to the table where their supper had been laid out by the servants. She placed her youngest brother to her left when she sat down.
"Auntie Elia," Tyrion called her, "Sit next to me." He pointed to the empty spot on the other side of him.
Auntie, Cersei wanted to scowl. She isn't your aunt, she wanted to correct him. She'll be our sister, but those words tasted just as bitter to her tongue, so she kept quiet.
Elia smiled at him, and he basked in it. "Then where should your brother sit?"
Tyrion already had an answer to that. He pointed directly across from him. "There!"
"What do you say, Jaime?" Elia sounded amused.
Jaime grinned, "I know better than to argue with him." He tussled Tyrion's hair, and kissed Elia's cheek before moving to take his seat.
"Its only because you smell," Tyrion said with the innocence that only a child had.
They all reacted differently to that unexpected remark. Elia giggled. Cersei felt her lips twitch. Jaime barked out a laugh, looking more amused then insulted.
"So you'd rather sit next to two beautiful maidens than your smelly brother?"
Tyrion bobbed his head up and down.
"I'm happy we're all able to be here together and eat," Elia decided to change the topic away from her smelly betrothed.
"It is wonderful for us to here," Jaime replied to the Princess, smiling towards her.
"Like a family," Tyrion said happily.
"Exactly," Jaime agreed, reaching across the table towards their youngest brother to tussle his hair.
"We will be sisters," Elia looked over Tyrion to Cersei, "I've always wanted a sister."
Cersei wanted to roll her eyes. She knew she couldn't, so instead she returned the princess' smile with one of her own. "Me as well, Princess." After that, she turned her attention to her supper. She didn't speak much allowing Jaime and Elia to carry the conversation with Tyrion, who wanted to prove that he could join in without any problems.
The food was spicy and hot, and with each bite, she could feel her stomach protesting. The taste burned her mouth and throat, and her eyes watered. Resulting in her eating very little, and settling for the wine.
She glanced to her side to see Elia was helping Tyrion cut up some of his food. Cersei watched the princess very carefully. Ready to pounce at any off handed comment or unkind look she might give to her youngest brother. In watching her, Cersei saw her give him only smiles and encouraging words and in the exchange she could see how much Tyrion reacted to them. He loved it. There was nothing but adoration in his looks towards her, as he continued to call her Auntie Elia.
Cersei was glad that the princess was treating her brother well. However, she couldn't deny a bit of hurt twist in her stomach at seeing her brother look at Elia in the same way he would look at her. "I'm sorry to hear about your brother, Elia."
"He is leaving in the morning." There was a tremor in her voice. "He'll be heading to Oldtown to study at the Citadel for awhile."
"Such a pity," Cersei shook her head, aware of the glare her brother was giving her.
"Yes, it is," Elia nodded, "Oberyn is fortunate to have a brother like Doran to help him." She then turned to Jaime, who's glare slipped away as fast as snow in the Dornish sun. "Oberyn will still come to our wedding, but then he'll be exiled for a time."
Exile from Dorne, Cersei thought it a better reward than having to live in Dorne. "My sympathies, princess, since family must be of the utmost importance." Giving a pointed look to her brother when she finished.
"I agree," Elia replied politely, "And soon we will be family."
"I'll drink to that," Jaime raised his glass, "To family," smirking at Cersei when Elia was distracted with helping Tyrion raise his cup, who wanted to join them.
Obligated, Cersei raised her glass, "To family," she chorused back, before their cups came together. Tyrion was a bit too enthusiastic about it and spilled some of his drink over himself and the table.
"I'll handle this," Elia had begun sopping it up on the table. "There's no need to bother the servants."
Jaime moved around the table to retrieve his brother, who was now sticky and stained. "And I'll handle him." Holding Tyrion at a distance as to not ruin his own tunic. Tyrion, however thought it a game and was trying desperately to grab at his older brother. Jaime was too amused to correct him. "I'll be back."
"Do not worry, we'll not be gossiping about you," Elia teased.
Jaime nodded, before giving Cersei a pointed look when Elia's back was turned.
Cersei smiled and waved him away which only seemed to further sour his mood, but then he was out the door.
"I want you to know Jaime told me about your family's plan."
"Did he now?" Cersei kept her tone measured. Her brother had already informed her of it, but was curious with what the Princess would say.
"He did, and he feels guilty about it," Elia defended her betrothed, "But I think he made the right decision," she looked up to meet Cersei's gaze, "Afterall, we'll be family soon."
"Yes, we will," Cersei's smile was tight, and she hid it within a heartbeat of revealing it with her wine glass. "Sisters."
"Sisters," Elia repeated in a warmer tone than Cersei's. "I can help you with the Prince."
Cersei was surprised by her confidence.
"I consider him a friend, which is more than you can say."
Cersei frowned, perceiving it an insult at her expense.
"He's no fool. He knows you wanted Rhaegar and not him," She went on. "Did you really think he'd forget that?" She asked incredulously.
She stayed quiet because she knew princess was right. Cersei was aware that she'd have to overcome her past follies to insure her family got their betrothal with the Targaryens. She buried her pride and annoyance, knowing what she had to do to succeed:
"What do you have in mind?"
Lysa:
Catelyn, Catelyn, Catelyn!
Lysa sobbed into her pillow.
It wasn't fair, she clutched her pillow. He was suppose to have loved her!
He was to be hers. Another sobbed wracked her body. He had picked her.
Lysa Tully had run to her chambers after the humiliating and heartbreaking ordeal and hadn't left since. She wasn't sure how long she'd been in there. She raised her eyes from her pillow to see the sun was setting. A reddish glow splashed across the darkening sky.
I had wanted to make him feel better. She felt fresh tears pooling in her eyes.
He had been upset about the talks swirling of her sister's betrothal to the heir of Winterfell, Brandon Stark. The announcement was not new, but the gossip of it was renewed when a new message from Brandon Stark came to Catelyn. Her sister had been delighted. Petyr had been enraged.
He hid it well, but Lysa could see it. It had taken all of her discipline not to move from her seat to comfort him. It wasn't until later was she able to finally see him. To finally free him of the pain and burden that no one else could see, but her. He welcomed me with sweet kisses.
She sighed, feeling heat pool in her tummy at the sensation of their tongues dancing together. Catelyn had only given him pecks and dances, but Lysa, she would've given Petyr whatever he asked for. His hands were gentle on her, and she thrilled at his touch, his eagerness, he wanted her. She could feel it in her bones. His passion for her burned in her blood.
He had moaned. It was her lips that elicited his desires. In between their kissing and touching, was when he betrayed her. It was when he showed her his true desires.
Catelyn, he had murmured, Cat, he had said it again, but lower.
Lysa had pulled away as if slapped. What?
His eyes glassy from lust. In his gaze she saw the truth. He wasn't' looking at her. He was looking at Catelyn. That was who he spun in his mind, that was who his heart coveted. It had never been her. It was always about Catelyn.
She felt her tummy tighten as it dawned on her. Lysa had rushed out of his chambers at that, crying, but he didn't go after her. Petyr never tried to comfort her. He never came to her to tell her it was a mistake, a slip of the tongue. He never attempted to soothe her like he use to.
His absence was all the more telling.
"Lysa?" A knock followed the muffled voice.
She spun around to her door, surprised at the unexpected visitor. "Uncle Brynden?"
"Yes, child," He paused, "May I come in?"
"One moment," Lysa felt the panic in her chest. Looking at her reflection to see her face was red and puffy from crying. She scrubbed away the tears that lingered on her cheeks. She then tried to smooth out the wrinkles of her dress. "Come in, Uncle."
"Lysa," His eyes took in her appearance, "What happened to you, child?" There was an edge to his voice that was sharper then the steel he carried.
"Nothing, uncle," she lied quickly, turning away when his scrutiny seemed to much. She heard his footfalls across the floor, metal boots clanging against stone and carpet. Then she felt the bed shift, and she looked to see he had taken a seat at the edge of her bed.
Even when sitting, her uncle was a tall man. He was dressed in his ringmail, his Tully colored cloak attached by a clasp of an obsidian pin in the shape of a trout-the Blackfish. His auburn hair was thick and curly, with just little bits of grey beginning to show. His eyes were deep blue and kind, looking at her with undisguised worry. He raised one of his bushy eyebrows in question at her lie.
"Lysa, you missed your sessions with both your septa and the maester."
"I'm sick." It wasn't a lie. She was sick. It was just a different ache then the ones she was use to. It was brought on by Petyr, and she wasn't sure if there was a cure for it.
"Ah," His eyes didn't give away whether he believed her or not. "Your Father left to sort out another squabble between the Brackens and Blackwoods."
In knowing her father was gone, Lysa realized that the duties of Riverrun had fallen on her uncle since Edmure was too young to take on the responsibilities.
"It's Petyr."
Her uncle's voice shook her from her thoughts to see he was watching her closely. The denial was in her throat but seeing his eyes pinning her, she knew it was futile. She ducked her head, and felt fresh tears ready to spill at the reminder of Petyr's treatment of her.
Brynden's hand was calloused but gentle on her cheek when he raised her head so that she could look at him. "What did he do?"
The shame and pain rushed back to her. Her lip trembled, she looked into her Uncle's dark blue eyes even now they remained friendly towards her. "H-he r-rejected m-me."
Uncle Brynden made a noise in the back of his throat. Frowning as he spoke, "I knew you three are close, Lysa. I saw your childish games in the godswood, and the glances and chaste kisses," he revealed when Lysa blinked owlishly at him, "But those are the games and feelings of a child." He observed kindly, "You are a Tully and a woman flowered."
The reminder of her first flowering made her tummy clench. It had been months ago, but she couldn't forget how afraid she was when she woke up to the blood. She had felt sick for days afterwards, despite the Septa's words and advice, Lysa suffered.
He needed me, she realized slowly, b-but I-I d-don't need P-Petyr. "I know, Uncle," her voice sounded more like a hiccup.
"Petyr may be your father's ward, and your friend but he is not a worthy suitor for you," Her uncle never shied away from being blunt. He wrapped her in a one arm embrace that made Lysa cling to him, grateful for his support. "You are a beautiful young woman, and your father has no end of suitors for your hand."
"Really?" She looked up to see her uncle looked a bit uncomfortable at the topic.
That discomfort left his expression when his eyes met hers. "Yes." He confirmed, kissing the top of her head. "One of them is in this very castle."
Lysa perked at that secret. "Truly?"
He rewarded her surprise with another smile, "Would I lie to you?" He feigned hurt.
Lysa giggled, "Never, Uncle." This time she hugged him, feeling renewed at his kind words and helpful advice.
"Good," He looked pleased that her mood was shifting, "Do not forget who you are, Lysa. Draw strength from that, and know you are not alone. It is family to who the Tullys turn to."
"Family, Duty, Honor," she suddenly recited.
"That's my girl."
"Ser Brynden?" A new voice entered their conversation.
Lysa looked to see her uncle's newly arrived squire standing in the doorway, Denys Arryn.
He was tall, with curly sandy blonde hair, and eyes as bright as the morning blue sky. He walked with grace, but she saw the hard muscles beneath his clothing. When he smiled at her, she blushed and looked away. Was he the suitor? Lysa reacted with giddiness. He's so handsome.
She suddenly felt self conscious of her appearance, knowing she probably looked terrible. Here she was with a messy dress, tangled hair, red face. A part of her wanted to hide behind her uncle until he left.
Her Uncle didn't miss the way she looked at his squire. "Denys, one of the duties of a knight is to safeguard the innocent," he told him, "That includes young, pretty maidens like my niece," he winked at her, "She wants to go to the Castle Sept to pray. You will escort her, and then find me in the armory."
"Of course, Ser Brynden," Denys took the instructions without complaint.
"Remember, my words, Lysa," Uncle Brynden told her with a mirthful twinkle in his deep blue eyes.
"I will."
Denys stepped forward when her uncle had left the room. He smiled at her. "My Lady, I would be honored."
Lysa felt her heart flutter at that smile, "The honor is mine."
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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