Caelyra: Sister-Wife and Dragonborn

8: Tourney Grounds

Long silvery white locks blowing in the early morning breeze, Caelyra stood alone on a balcony, watching the far horizon where the sea met the sky, a wish in her mind, a wish to be free from her cage of misery.

It had been a few weeks, two of she was one for counting the exact number of weeks, since her almost death and the aftermath of it.

Her days had been spent under the watchful eye of those that should protect her and her nights....oh, her nights was spent being fucked, however crude that sounded, into oblivion by the man who should've loved her as his wife, yet held no more feelings for her since the first night after her almost death.

Because, unlike her mother, she didn't make any sound as her husband pounded into her, no one knows the agony she felt as Rhaegar was too rough.

Of course, she didn't deny her brother his marriage rights, but she would've liked it if he had taken her consent in consideration when he began mounting her like she was his horse every night.

That wasn't even all of it that made her feel like death would've been much preferable than being alive.

She had come to realise quickly that many people, be it highborn or lowborn, had began whispering wherever she went, about her insane story about her dreams.

She had also heard the gossip about her supposed refusal to do her duty as a wife and give Rhaegar an heir.

The story of the secret taking of moontea had spread and grown into a massive lie that could burn down Kings Landing, were it wildfire.

She had found herself ridiculed by many of the ladies at court and scorned for her supposed slight against their beloved Crown Prince.

Oh she know who stood at the very root of this and the girl felt no remorse that she had tarnished Caelyra's reputation even further with her smear campaign.

She clenched her fists as tears of frustration and helplessness at her situation rolled down her cheeks, wishing that she could just sprout wings and fly away to her former life where she had been her own mistress and had the right to her own decisions.

Here, she was but a girl who had a duty to be a broodmare for future Targaryens and she hated it all.

"Princess."

She swallowed and looked over her shoulder at Ser Lewyn Nymeros Martell, the uncle to the Prince of Dorne.

"His Grace, Prince Rhaegar, asked that you  accompany him to the tourney grounds today."

Ah, yes, the tournament for her baby brother's nameday are fast approaching and the old tourney grounds and arena are being readied for the event.

Rhaegar had been tasked to head the organizing of the whole event himself by the King and had been busy doing that every day since it had been announced at court.

"Asked?"

The Kingsguard shrugged, his eyes not meeting hers. She understood why. Rhaegar demanded, not asked and Ser Lewyn was too much of a gentleman to say it, though he, like all the other Kingsguard, watched her every move like hawks as to make sure that she do not slip and drink moontea.

"You can inform the Prince that I shall be joining him shortly."

Ser Lewyn cleared his throat and didn't move from where he stood and that annoyed her.

"Ser Lewyn," she began curtly. "I said I shall be -

"I heard, Princess. But the Prince also tasked me to accompany you as he called Arthur away for something."