Roslynd Tyrell is a dreamer, she has dreamed of a gallant great prince all of her life. Someone brave and dutiful to love and cherish her.
Daeron III Targaryen is a dreamer too, but his dreams are something much darker.
Roslynd finds out that drea...
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When Roslynd Tyrell was a child, she dreamt of a great gallant prince who would wed her and cherish her. He would protect her from dangers, he would unsheathe his sword if she was but merely insulted, he would get her a flower- no, a big vase full of flowers- no, an entire garden. A garden dedicated to her with all of her favourite flowers. He would buy her all of the jewelry in the world and it would have to be emeralds and rubies. He would get her gowns sewn and none of them would be ugly, she would wear whatever she wanted.
When Roslynd got older, her expectations didn't change quite much. She was called childish and spoiled for wanting so much out of a match, for refusing even the bigger Lords like the Lannisters or Starks when it came to marriage.
Nobody understood Roslynd, they didn't understand that she was a romantic. She wanted love out of life. Now, is she believed that love came in the form of a fair Prince, she believed so was her right. Perhaps shallow, but Roslynd knew what she wanted. Besides, Princes and Kings were often allowed to pick out their brides based on their faces and bosoms. Why was she not allowed to want a handsome Prince?
One day, her Lord Father informed her of a match proposed to the royal family. They had a Prince of age to be wed. Roslynd was delighted. This had been what she'd dreamed of all her life - a great gallant prince, handsome of face, lovely, brave and dutiful. Princes had to be the best of men, she assumed.
They had to be gentlemen.
Roslynd stepped out of the carriage in her green gown, half of her hair was put into braids and wrapped around her head like a tiara. The other half of her hair was a bit unkempt from the long journey to the Red Keep. Roslynd could finally breathe, she could not believe how much King's Landing had stunk. Her Lord Father and Lady Mother stepped out after, "Roslynd, careful now!" Her father, Leo Tyrell called out.
"Roslynd, keep your composure!" Marya Tyrell, her Lady Mother called after and Roslynd turned back to beam at her. Marya shook her head, but the smile on her face fooled no one. She was fond of her daughter.
"Oh, Mother," Roslynd said, fifteen and bright-eyed, "Do you think I should be allowed to see him now?"
"See who?" Marya asked.
"Prince Daeron," Roslynd said, a faint pink blush on her cheeks at the mention of her bethrothed, "I hope he is here, even the sight of him for a few seconds would be enough. I am so curious to see him, I've heard he has golden hair, not the unnatural silver kind that all the other Targaryens do. Though, I am quite partial to gentlemen who are black of hair, but I should not mind it much, I think, for he is a prince-"
"Roslynd, what did we say about rambling?" Marya said with her head tilted as Leo shook his head fondly.
"Oh, let her talk, Marya," Leo put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to his side, "We shall long to hear her voice after the wedding."
