When Rhea Royce died, the noble house of Royce blamed the Rogue Prince. Daemon Targaryen was the culprit for the downfall of the House, no matter what was said. Leaving Runestone with no Lord or Lady at its helm, a decision was made to promote a min...
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WHEN Donella awoke the next morning, she had no choice but to stretch out her tired and sore muscles. A few light bruises had appeared from where Aemond's blunt-edged blade had banged against her skin. She hoped that he had it worse.
The sun was high in the sky when she felt as though she better leave her room. She had no desire to serve Helaena today, and seeing as though she was only destined to be in King's Landing for the rest of the day, she couldn't help but wonder what the worst punishment the Princess could give to her. Would she send her away to marry a total stranger, perhaps?
When she had finally decided that today was for herself, Donella dressed in her finest silks and opened the door. She did not expect to see a singular daisy outside of the door, where her feet would no doubt smother it, had she not been looking down when she'd opened the door. She expected even less to see a note attached to it with a piece of fine string. The writing was curved, yet precise. She knew it to be the Prince's.
Ella. Have you ever wondered what it would be like to fly?
She blinked at the message. Hadn't everyone? Donella had practically grown up in King's Landing, watching the dragons come and go. Watching how their riders would soar through the sky as if they were born of the air itself.
"So, have you?" She heard his voice approaching from down the corridor. With a crunch of her fist, the message balled, dropping on the floor with a low thud.
"Have you been standing outside of my room waiting for me to read your note?"
"Who says it's my note?"
"Everyone else in the Keep knows my name, Prince Aemond. Lady Donella Royce. I do not know this Ella which the letter addresses. Do you?"
He studied her face for a moment, hating how he deserved her anger. She wore long sleeves and ensured that her skirt held no chance of riding up her legs today. She did not wear her bruises like armour. He ensured that the purple of his shoulder peeked through the collar,
"I know only one Ella," Aemond spoke carefully, "And I am inviting her to the Dragonpit."
Donella snorted as she closed her bedroom door behind her, turning away from the Prince as she moved to step away, "Why would Ella agree to such an offer? You are nothing but a brainless Prince, what would she gain?"
If Donella were anybody else, Aemond would have taken her tongue for those words. If she were anybody else, Aemond would not be pleading to the Gods for her forgiveness. He trailed along behind her as if he was one of her skirts,
