𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑 [ 𝘥𝘢𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘦𝘯 ]

C H A P T E R, one

     A color Ceryse declared long ago her favorite shade of green and it reminded her of the House Velaryon who nodded along in satisfaction at her love for their house colours.

     Ceryse often tended to decorate her waist-long hair with jewels or silver glimmering moonstones. These gems would find themselves moments later twirled within her wild curls that had every handmaiden sigh and rip at them since they were so untamed. Such as their lady.

     The chest ─ that was the first thought that went through her head ─ was a robust one which made her head spin from the invading scent of strong but strange leather, smoke and fire clinging like an echo of the past to it.

     It shocked her so greatly, she could only startle away from the figure.

     In the few seconds of collision, she felt as if her whole future was flopped upside down, her girly mind shattering into millions of glass splitters and her heart felt the weird need to thud like a wild horse galloping through a desert.

     Still staggering, her feet caught on the hem of her gown and Ceryse tripped as her body went into alarm, at last finding the sense to stand properly and steadily with the clicks of her heels to pillow the silence that followed after she finally soothed into a halt.

     Next, a sputter of apologies and promises were the first thing that rolled off of her tongue, an immediate heat crawling to her neck, taunting her and snickering about her clumsiness. It was not even her fault as she hadn't seen anyone around that stupid corner.

     But oh well, this was the world of men and if there was an issue at hand, the women were at fault. That she was taught with a nodding smile on her lips and barking fury in her eyes. Such falsehoods.

     When Ceryse trusted herself enough not to faint on the spot if she would look up at the eyes of some fat or arrogant lord, she did. To her utter wonderment, it were violet pools whom met her with amusement swirling in their wondrous abyss.

     And she blinked. Twice. Thrice.

     As if her Septa stood right beside her with a scolding grimace and if her teachings would be a person with moving limbs, they both knocked against the back of her head what seemed to have hurled her from her bone-cracking staring.

     After seconds of realization of who it was, she bend her back into a straight line and her knees submitted into a deep curtsy. "Your Grace. I apologize. I did not see you there."

     There was a meek shuffle that almost had her look up. She resisted. "Rise, girl."

     She did and peered up carefully, but had yet to look into his mirthful eyes that had a violence hidden within them. To distract herself, Ceryse folded her hands below her blooming bosom and scratched against her palm to lead the familiar rising anxiety anywhere but her head.

     For Prince Daemon was known throughout the Realm as rogue, violent, uncaring and above all; without an ounce of any honor or sense of duty. She found that notion a tad bit harsh, if she was honest to herself, but that did not mean that there was no fear in her.

     The fear of what he might do for bumbing into him. She hoped that he would not command one of the King's Kingsguard to spank or punish her for the ─