━━ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪɴɢʟɪɴɢ ᴏғ ɢʀᴇᴇɴ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴅ
IT WAS A PURE HAPPENSTANCE, she avowed to the gods. How could she have ever possibly foreseen that strong chest and its belonging person rounding the corner like a scorching thunder meant to struck her out of her girlhood dreams and fairytales made of roses and love.
Ceryse Hightower was never one to be late in time as it was one of her first lessons taught by her Septa.
Ever since, it had been the one of the most sacred rules to always be punctual to any event. Her late lady mother was kind in that matter, but even so, Ceryse was often reprimanded if she appeared late without a proper excuse.
And if she had an prodigious one, none of her family member believed her as she was a very poor liar.
Ceryse was on her way to Princess Rhaenyra's apartments to whom she was a lady-in-waiting alongside her older sister, Alicent.
She knew that the princess, her close friend and wigh whom she shared an even closer camaraderie, would never become angry at her for a ridiculous and unimportant things such as being late given the fact that she herself was never one to be on point on the ticking timeline and ─ especially ─ rather liked to forget about the many Small Council meetings of her father, King Viserys.
Additionally, Ceryse was not only the most dutiful lady-in-waiting of Princess Rhaenyra but also her favorite one, so many would claim if asked. The bond between the princess and herself was one of trust, loyalty and love.
As they were close in age, they shared the same tendencies such as being late or often forsake lessons given by their Septa ─ which made specifically Alicent furious and at the same time it coerced her into one or two laughing fits.
Rhaenyra would simply wave her tardiness off with a loud chuckle and teasings to casually accompany them. But her strict sister would always add two words too much of warning which Ceryse ignored mostly and entirely. She was only dutiful if need be. She acted like it and she enjoyed to play them all.
Especially her father, Lord Otto Hightower who was also the Hand of the King. Ceryse found delight in his assumption that he still thought her his small, sweet-babbling girl whom could never harm a soul. Oh, how wrong they were in their stupor of weaving dreams and flying compliments.
For she was anything but.
It was a peaceful and sunny morn Ceryse woke up to with her favorite handmaiden preparing a pretty fitting seafoam-colored dress with light green emeralds embroidered to the hem.
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 ─
"The beauty you hold must have come from your lady mother and not your lord father. I can see that clearly." His words had Ceryse whip her head to him like a crazy whirlwind finding a new prey to scoop up into its mess of chaos and destruction.
The first thought come to Ceryse was if it was meant as an insult against her father or a charming compliment to her mother, but from the seductive strings of a hell-painted smirk she couldn't tell if it was overall a jest.
Swiftly realizing that she behaved absolutely impolite, Ceryse hurried to an answer. "I would not know, Your Grace, my lady mother died when I was young."
She could've slapped herself for pulling such words. Should have answered with an equal jest or a flirting comment that'd spin around his heart instantly, how her Septa told her men liked. But she was not excellent at it. And Ceryse was sure that she certainly was not the first girl to ever be so.
Prince Daemon didn't seem to be sway and shamelessly laughed out loud at her dry answer. "You are quite a something, Lady . . ."
He looked into her eyes in search for a promising retort. Her mouth fell apart alone for the spectacular coloring of his eyes. Violet with a tint of blue within them. And the shadow of something she was familiar with.
Ceryse shook her head, smiled sweetly for the first time and said, "My name is Ceryse, if it pleases you, Your Grace."
He hummed, chin dipping down, a supposed charming smile anything but convincing. Instead it had her furrow her eyebrows for the first time on this morning. For days, if she was honest.
Her very first impression of Prince Daemon Targaryen would be that he was a complicated creature. Confusing, intruding and above all; difficult to foretell.
She stared at him, unwavering, and as he heaved a starlit brow up, she still did not waver. "May I ask what you seek here at court, Your Grace?" The Prince quirked an interested eyebrow at her unusual question. Ceryse hurried to say, "I mean, should you not reside within the Vale? Along your lady wife?"
Ceryse pushed the thoughts away which swept over her the second she allowed to let her curiosity get the better of her.
He gave her an inkling of a grin. "My lady wife, I can assure you, is rather pleased to find me gone from her sight. As am I." He readjusted his lazy stance against the smooth stone, shoulder gliding down the glassy coating. "And as for your question; I heard that there is a tournament being held in my honor."
His eyes never left hers.
She could not hold her tongue with the ropes of her brain and her chiming tone made only worsened it. "But the tournament is for the King's unborn child."
"It is for his heir."
His correction vexed something within her. She wasn't misinformed. She was a very clever girl with a colorful mind containing words that were frowned upon.
Ceryse knew exactly that it wasn't for Prince Daemon Targaryen but for the babe in Queen Aemma's belly of which King Viserys was sure to be a son of his blood. The new heir.
"I think you do not understand." Ceryse did a step towards him, her body composed and serious. "Whomever told you that the tournament is for you, Your
Grace, must be seriously questioned as it is being held for the incoming heir."
"What ever you say, Lady Ceryse."
That was all Daemon had to say with a smile that could have bewitched the Maiden herself.
But not Ceryse. It made her skin crawl as if the thousand layers soaked in the venomous poisons and shadows of the demons within her would peel itself off, heated needles delicately stinging into them, embroidering a pattern of his false, deceitful smiles so she would remember them when he would sent another one for her.
Ceryse's lips turned into a bow and she tipped her chin up and down to imply for her want to leave. "Your Grace. I fear I must be on my way to the Princess Rhaenyra. Have a pleasant day and stay."
She dropped into a stiff curtsy as she did feel his penetrating gaze precisely scan upon her like a heavy iron-chain draped across her neck. Her spine jutted up into a position she held rarely so straight, solely in the presence of her lord father and the King.
Ceryse sent him another tight-lipped smile before she bunched her gown up into her palm with the nervous jolts devolving into the fine velvety fabric and made herself a way around him.
She failed to notice the narrowed eyes prying into her back like clamped arrows trying to focuse their entire concentration upon their goal.
Daemon Targaryen just found a new one.
He smirked to himself and walked back to where he previously came from, with a need itching in his body, renewed fire blazing in the thousand flames of his desires.
╔═════════════╗
⬪˙ AUTHOR SPEAKS ˙⬪
╚═════════════╝
Well, that's the first chapter. I don't really have anything to say other than I had no motivation to write on the story about Aenerya and that blonde mf of a one-eye. For that evening. Maybe in the morning or evening a chapter will follow but I'm not so sure so forgive me my pls.
Have a beautiful day/evening and stay healthy! Yours, Maya.
Edited <3