𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑳𝑨𝑽𝑬𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑹 𝑰𝑵 𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑬𝒀𝑬𝑺,
𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍
" Wed her to me. "
" What? "
" When I offered up my crown, you said I could have anything. I want Daenera. I want to love her the way she loves me - the way we've alw...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
THE NEWLY GROWN DAY was devoted towards the heir's tournament — a joust being held. Though that was the only event for the Targaryen's to attend, Daenera had other plans. With her mother in labor, Daenera had spent every waking moment with her — showering her with love and affection in hopes Aemma wouldn't be too angered by her daughter's departure, that would be taken after the joust.
With a satchel under her feather pillow — Daenera was ready. Her attendance to the joust was important not only for her family's reputation, but for her plan to go successful. With almost all of King's Landing cheering for the rider's, Daenera would have plenty of time to escape. Even though she hated the dresses she was forced to wear — this day she didn't put up a fight. She gladly wore the silk black dress, her legs lazily crossed together as she waited for Rhaenyra to arrive.
"Be welcome!" Her father started his speech — just as Rhaenyra arrived, right in the nick of time. "I know many of you have traveled long leagues to be at these games. But I promise, you will not be disappointed. When I look at the fine knights in these lists, I see a group without equal in our histories. And this great day has been made more auspicious by the news that I am happy to share:" Daenera's father paused, glancing down to his two offspring's. "Queen Aemma has begun her labors!"
As the crowd around the royal's clapped, along did they. Daenera's hands clasped together, lightly tapping one another as she cowered her irises around the many people below her. "May the luck of the Seven shine upon all combatants!"
Daenera always enjoyed the jousts — something intrigued her on such an antic. She had sometimes wondered why she hadn't set herself up for such a sport, knowing it'd be an entertaining way to anger her father and his hand, Otto.
The horses of the jousters ran down the shoot — the men's jousting poles clashing against one another's shields. Every hit, a loud boom erupted through the air. A small grin forming on Daenera's face, as she watched one of the men topple off his horse — onto the mushed ground of mulch and mud.
"A mystery knight?" Rhaenyra asked Alicent Hightower — her best of friend, as well as being Marianna's blood cousin. "No, a Cole, of the Stormlands." Alicent answered. A perk of Daenera's brow shifted, peaking her head towards the young Hightower. "I've never heard of House Cole." Rhaenyra shook her head.
"Princess Rhaenys Targaryen!" Lord Boremund Baratheon shouted from below the seating terrace. "I would humbly ask for the favor of "The Queen Who Never Was."" The Lord held his pole up — awaiting for Rhaenys to let her favor tower down.
"Good fortune to you, cousin." The Lord let the well-done favor fall down, as Rhaenys stood tally from above. "I would gladly take it if I thought I needed it." The man proudly spoke, earning a smile from the princess.
"Lord Stokeworth's daughter is promised to that young Tarly squire." Rhaenyra nodded her head towards an entity in the crowd. Daenera didn't care to look up, too occupied with the uncomfortable felt of her dress.
"Lord Massey's son?" Marianna wondered, a hum coming from Rhaenyra.
"They're to be married as soon as he wins his knighthood."
"Best get on with it." Alicent murmured, as the steed of Lord Boremund rose on its hind legs, letting out an agitated whiny. "I heard that lady Elinor is hiding a swollen belly beneath her dress." Alicent gossiped, a giggle falling from Daenera's lips.
The Lord's on the ground strutted into a gallop — hastily pacing towards one another. Laughter escaped the towns people as Lord Boremund fell to the ground in pain, groaning in agony. Daenera cocked her head over her shoulder, glancing at the princess Rhaenys — who sent her a cheeked smile.
"What do you know about Ser Criston Cole, Ser Harrold?" Rhaenyra asked the knight beside her, as Daenera looked over to what was occurring. "I'm told Ser Criston is common-born, son of Lord Dondarrion's steward. But other than that, and the fact he's just unhorsed both of the Baratheon lads, I really couldn't say." Ser Harrold explained, slowly departing from Rhaenyra's side — as she peered on the outs.
"Prince Daemon of House Targaryen, Prince of the City, will now choose his first opponent!" Master of Revels announced throughout the crowd, as Daemon rode his black steed to his choosing candidate's. A smirk quirked onto Daenera's face, gently grasping her newly gifted necklace — playing with its bright ruby pendant. Daemon was obviously blinded by his amusement at his choice, as he chose the son of the hand — Alicent's eldest brother.
"For his first challenge, Prince Daemon Targaryen chooses Ser Gwayne Hightower of Oldtown, eldest son of the Hand of the King." Master of Revels shouts, pointing towards the man. A huff leaves Daenera, her knuckles pressed against her jaw as she watches Daemon fail his first strike — achieving the second, but only in a horrid way. Daenera tried her best to hide the grin she had on, looking down to her clothed lap.
Daemon grinned in success, his horse prancing over to where the royals were held. Swiftly, Rhaenyra and Alicent rushed towards the brother of the King. Daenera and Marianna were slow to join their sides, basking over the edge of the fencing. Daenera's arms leaned against the olden wood, hooded eyes inspecting Daemon's now sweating body.
"Nicely done, Daemon." Daenera spoke — never the one to use the proper terms of titles.
"Thank you, Princess." Daemon gave a nod, keeping his eyes strictly on her — even as there were the other three women beside her.
"I must say, I was a tad bit worrisome you'd fumble over yourself in cockiness." Daenera quipped, a straight look plastered on her face like a painting. Daemon's grin shifted, raising a brow of entertainment.
"I'd expect nothing less from you, Princess." The man carefully spoke, his pole used in the joust leaning slightly towards the four ladies. "Now, I'm fairly certain I can win these games, Princess. Having your favor would all but assure it." Giving a gentle grin, Daenera backed away towards the flowered favor, throwing it down Daemon's way without another word.
As Daenera tried to stay oblivious, she could tell something was off by the way her father looked at her once she had turned to face the high ranked. A thread of her eyebrows knitted together, looking at the king himself as he rushed away. Daenera glanced to Rhaenyra, who's mood couldn't be ruined. An irritated sigh falls from Daenera, lifting her dresses skirt up as she flees from the scene.
Throughout the castle, the wails of agony from Queen Aemma volcanically bounced off the cobblestone walls. Daenera's heart race picked up, breaking into a race towards her mother's chamber's. Entering in the huddled room of maiden's and Maester's, Daenera's eyes fell upon her broken father, and hurting mother.
Her mother's cries of aching torture horrified Daenera only more. The sight in front of the young princess was nothing she had never seen and hoped to never witness again. The babe crying in front of Daenera was blocked out by her own mother — her wails suddenly becoming fainter. Daenera had not known what to do, only standing with a shaking stance away.
In a hurried haste, Daenera rushed to her mother's crying side — gripping her hand. She didn't dare look up to her father, who stared with guilt towards his daughter. As Aemma's pain slowly faded, Daenera's eyes welled up with the water of salt. A shaky hand clasped over her lips, hiding the shuddered breathing she seethed.
Daenera had not known of what to say. She couldn't give any slight comfort to her father — as she knew he was at fault. Her mother now laid, body limp and drained of blood. It'd soon turn cold, her heart's beat gone with no trace of ever being heard. The feeling Daenera felt of sadness was hidden with fury, and wrath. She couldn't understand why her father would ever do such a thing to her mother — the woman he loved. This was not love, no. This was greed.
"Princess," A maiden whispered beside her. But Daenera's ears still rang from overhearing her mother's pain, that it mellowed out the stillness of the tainted room. Without any saying, Daenera strode out the stoned exit — running to her chambers to lock herself away from the tragedy she just endured.
