A Valyrian Heart

Chapter Seventeen

" Nothing happened, " Joffrey tells her. The look on his face suggests he was disgusted by the very fact that she had thought of something like that. It couldn't be that he wasn't attracted to her, not when he had kissed her all so passionately last night.

' The kiss ' Baela can't help the childish gasp that escaped her as she traced a finger over her lips. Joffrey had kissed her, but she had been the one who had initiated it. What had she been thinking? Had the alcohol stolen all the sense of reasoning. Aemond wouldn't be very pleased, in a way she was proving his suspicions right, she wasn't sleeping around, but it was close to it. She had kissed Aegon before, and now she was kissing this young Baratheon King as well.

' I am my Fathers daughter after all ' Baela thinks to herself ' He must be very proud '. Well, he already suspects her, he must think she was whoring herself outside the Red Keep as well. Daemon liked to pretend to be noble sometimes, like he wasn't married to a whore himself. He and Rhaenyra fit perfectly. She has a problem, she needs to stop thinking so much. Baela runs her fingers through her hair, she scowls when her fingers are met with tangles.

" Do you have a brush?"

" Here " He was already holding one even before she asked. Baela accepts it gratefully, she hadn't even noticed him move at all. But now Joffrey was seated close to her, watching with deep green eyes. She glances at him once, a questioning look on her gaze. Doesn't he have anything better to do? He was a king, wasn't he? But what the hell does she know about responsibilities? She'd always been a carefree spirit, the one time her father had assigned her to a task, she failed miserably at it, still failing miserably mind you.

" Does it hurt?"

" Yes' ' She tells him as she slowly works on untangling the mess that was her hair. A symbol of her pure blood, she was meant to be proud of it. Even though her hair didn't quite meet her father's standard of how a Targaryen's hair should look. Her uncle's children looked more Targaryen, and perhaps Daemon got bitter sometimes.

But there was still a look of relief when his gaze shifted to Rhaenyra's Strong boys. Baela has seen disgust before, but nothing quite matched Daemon's. Baela wants to tell her father that it wasn't their fault they looked that way, he should blame Rhaenyra for being so....unfateful. She would make a terrible Queen, she knew it. But Aegon would make a horrible one, he might end up burning the whole of the seven Kingdom down. No one ever listens to her. Like a good daughter she is expected to just listen and do whatever Daemon tells her to.

A pained groan escaped her when she pulled a strand of her hair a bit too hard. She has the sudden urge of tossing the brush somewhere it can never be found.

A snort draws her out of her thoughts. Joffrey was still watching her, even when she was having her small internal battle. He doesn't look very impressed " Get a hold of yourself. You look so damn pathetic "

" I am burdened. It is to be expected "

" Care to share your thoughts?"

" You don't look like someone who would give a damn anyways. "

" I do not like it when people make assumptions about me, my lady "

" Forgive me, your grace. But your feelings are very obvious. You find interest in pretty or odd looking things. I am new, so you fancy me, parts of me. And my Dragon, you want her too. Perhaps you think keeping me here would grant you some kind of privilege over Moon Dancer. But I assure you...I would rather have her burn this palace down than let her be used by some no good wannabe king "

" Aren't you in a pleasant mood "

Baela stares at him for a long time, she hadn't expected such a calm response. She sighs and places the brush on the soft bedding. She was in a fresh set of clothes, she didn't want to know who had changed her or when they had managed to do it. Certainly it hadn't been Joffrey, he had been just as dead drunk as she was. Anyways, the main problem was that the sun was up and as foolish as she could be sometimes, she hadn't bothered returning home.