The midday sun warmed Darla's back as it streamed through the large windows of the Small Council's meeting chambers. Her dark eyes tracked the Princess's movements throughout the chamber, taking pleasure in the annoyance that rolled off the younger teen in waves. How pitiful, Darla thought, the heir still forced to carry the men's cups.
"Ser Ryam was a strong Lord Commander of the Kingsguard," Viserys spoke breaking darla from her thoughts. "But he was ill for sometime. He passed in peace, I hope."
"Yes, Your Grace. He was found to have passed gently in his sleep. His remains are being prepared by the Silent Sisters." The Grand Maester's voice droned on, boring Darla. "The succeeding Lord Commander, Ser Harrold, would like to make haste in finding Ser Ryam's replacement on the kingsgaurd."
Taking his cue, the bald knight stepped forward addressing the table. "Your Grace. My lords. The kingsguard must soon be restored to its full complement of seven. With the help of the Hand, I've invited a number of fine candidates to court. All have passed fair trials."
The doors swung open interrupting the Lord Commander as Lord Corlys rushed in, his boots thudding against the stone floor in his anger and haste. "Four ships have now been lost.The last one was flying my banner. The Stepstones have now grown into a conflagration, yet you sit here and dither about court business."
"If you've something to discuss, Lord Corlys-" Ser Otto began.
"I want to know what is to be done about my ships and my men."
"The Crown will compensate you for your ship and crew, and make an offering to the men's families."
"I don't want compensation." The Lord of Tides spit out, turning his attention to the King. Darla's back straightened, eager to see if Viserys would allow himself to be disrespected. "I want to seize the stepstones by force and burn out this Crabfeeder."
"I am not prepared to start a war with the Free Cities." Viserys spoke, his voice calmer than what Darla had hoped for.
"These Pirates are not the Free Cities." Lord Corlys argued.
"Who do you think provides them with their ships and tender?" Viserys questioned.
Darla could see his shoulders begin to tighten as his annoyance and frustration grew.
"In all of its history, my lord, the Seven Kingdoms have never entered open war with the Free Cities." Lord Beesbury spoke, drawing attention to himself. "Were that to happen the losses would be incalculable.
The Seasnake rounded the table, moving to stand over the elderly lord. "What reason does the Crabfeeder have to fear us?" Lord Corlys stepped back to address the rest of the lords. "The King's own brother has been allowed to seize Dragonstone and fortify it with an army of his gold cloaks. Daemon has squatted there for over half a year without even a protest from the Crown."
"I'll caution you, Lord Corlys," Ser Otto warned. "A seat at the King's table does not make you his equal."
"I have acted, Corlys. I've sent envoys to Pentos and Volantis to see if we might find common cause. Ships and men are at the ready. The Stepstones will be settled in time."
"You have dragonriders, father." Princess Rhaenyra spoke up causing the Small Council to turn and look at her with varying degrees of surprise and annoyance. "Send us."
"It isn't that simple, Rhaenyra."
"It would be a show of force." Rhaenyra argued in her favor.
"At least the Princess has a plan." Lord Corlys joked.
"I only meant that we should at least-" Rhaenyra attempted to defend herself.
"Perhaps," The Hand spoke, interrupting the teens blithering. "There's some better use for the Princess's talents, Your Grace."
Viserys nodded, looking from his daughter to the new Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. "Why don't you take the Princess to see about the new kingsguard posting, Lord Commander?"
"A fine idea, Your Grace."
Rhaenyra turned from the table, following Ser Harrold from the room. She glanced back only to see her father waving his attendant over.
"Follow after her." Viserys whispered in Darla's ear, his hot breath stirring her dark strands. Darla stifled her smirk as she stepped back.
"Of course, Your Grace." She bowed her head before following the Princess out of the doors.
★・・・・・・★
Darla had no surname, no house she belonged to. There had been no septa to teach her, Darla's only education came in the moments of peace before the brothel opened once more as night fell. And yet the bastard from the Street of Silk stood mere feet from the Princess.
Her arms rested on the stone banister, overlooking the Knights gathered in the small courtyard. Her eyes trailed over the men, taking in their rich tunics and the plumes of feathers sprouting from their helmets. She could not understand a man's want to appear fashionable while riding into battle.
"Ser Desmond Caron, a fine knight, Princess." Ser Harrold spoke quietly before calling down to the men below. "Step forward, Ser Desmond." A knight wearing a yellow tunic with little embroidered black birds over his armor stepped forward. "Son of Ser Royce Caron, Ser Desmond had proved strong and steady in both the tourney lists and without. While traveling through the King's wood on his way to King's Landing, Ser Desmond recently brought a would-be poacher to justice."
A bird chirped in the distance as silence filled the small courtyard. The Knight stared up at the Princess expectantly. Darla glanced at the younger teen. Seeing the girl had no clue on what to do, Darla sighed and pushed herself off of the banister. She turned her back to the men, leaning closer to Rhaenyra so she could whisper.
"Thank him." Darla muttered under her breath before returning to her earlier position.
"We thank you for your loyal service to The Crown, ser." The Princess's smile fell as soon as the nobleman had returned to the line.
Soft footsteps sounded from behind Darla, though she needn't turn to see who it was, she already knew. The Small Council 's meeting had ended and the Hand had come to watch the Princess.
"Ser Ryum Mallister," Another knight wearing a Dark blue cape emblazoned with a silver screeching eagle took Ser Desmond's place. "Son of Lord Lymon Mallister of Seagard. Winner of the melee at Cider Hall. He was the last mounted of three and twenty knights. Ser Rymun was knighted at eight and ten."
"Gods, he's older than the last." Darla muttered under her breath.
"Do any of these knights have combat experience?" Rhaenyra questioned, her voice carrying across the courtyard. "Beyond capturing poachers."
"Ser Criston Cole." Ser Harrold responded as the only knight without a bannerman stepped forward. The armor he wore was plain, with no frills or feathers and no house sigil or colors. "Son of the steward of the Lord of Blackhaven."
Darla noticed as the Princess's eyes lit up upon seeing the last tourney's victor once again, recognizing the look in the young girl's eyes. Rhaenyra leaned forward on the banister to greet the man.
"Be welcome, Ser Criston. You saw combat in the Stormlands?"
"Dornish marches, Princess." The Knight responded. "I fought for a year as a foot soldier against the Dornish incursions. Ser Arlan Dondarrion knighted me after we razed two of the watchtowers along the Boneway."
Nodding at his words, Princess Rhaenyra turned to face Ser Harrold. "I choose, Ser Criston Cole."
"Let's not be to hasty, Princess." Ser Otto stepped forward from the corner he had been watching from as the Princess stepped off her pedestal. "There is no doubt Ser Criston is a fine warrior, but houses such as Crakehall and Mallister are important allies of the Crown. Seagard for instance is the realm's prime defense against reavers from the Iron Islands."
"Those men are tourney knights." The Princess argued. "My father should be defended by a man who's known real combat. Should he not?"
"Of course, Princess."
"Well, let us plan Ser Criston's investiture then." Having gotten her way the Princess turned on her heel and reentered the castle followed by Ser Harrold.
Darla chuckled, stepping forward. "It seems the Heir has no need of you, Lord Hand."
She didn't wait for the man to respond, instead entering the castle. She watched as the Princess disappeared around one of the corners before moving the opposite way. Her feet carried her quickly through the halls, though her light steps were soon joined by a heavier pair.
"Well if it isn't my favorite whore," Ser Rickard Thorne chuckled as he joined Darla. "Where are you off to today?"
"It is none of your concern, Ser Rickard."
"So there is no reason you are heading to the Tower of the Hand?"
"I'm to do the King's bidding." Darla glared at the man, though her gaze held no real heat. "I thought you would prefer to hear of your new brother in arms."
"A new kingsguard has been chosen?"
"Mmhmm." Darla hummed in response, pressing herself to the wall as a Lady of the court passed.
"Will you be telling me who?" Ser Rickard whispered before the lady had stepped out of view.
"Guess." Darla pushed off of the wall, continuing her journey.
"Ser Desmond? He brought in that thief. Or was it a murderer? All I recall is the man dragging behind Ser Desmond's horse."
"It was a poacher," Darla chuckled. "And no it was not Ser Desmond."
A hand tightened around Darla's upper arm, dragging her to a stop. "Tell me."
"Ser Criston Cole has been hand picked by the Princess." Darla glanced at the man as she approached the Tower of the Hand. "She seems quite taken with the knight."
"So the realm is meant to be led by a woman's emotions." Ser Rickard sighed. "Will we go to war because the Princess has a crush next?"
"Be patient, Ser Rickard, the King will marry again and his son will be heir." She stopped in front of a door, hand raising to knock. "Now return to your post and I will resume my duties."
The knight chuckled, raising his hands as he backed away. Darla turned back to the door, her hand raised, brushing her hair out of her face. Her knuckles rasping against the wood before falling back to her side. Her hands smoothed out the creases of her dress as she waited for the door to open.
The door creaked open, a servant standing in the doorway.
"Lady Alicent's presence has been requested by the King, I am to escort her to His Grace's chambers." The servant nodded, ducking back into the room to relay the message.
Within moments Lady Alicent appeared in the doorway, offering Darla a kind smile. "I am ready."
The two young women moved in silence through the halls. Darla's gaze remained straight ahead, though from the corner of her eyes she could see Alicent glance at her. The younger girl's lips parted to speak before she stopped herself. As they neared their destination, Alicent's steps faltered until she slowed to a stop.
Darla turned to face the auburn haired girl, taking in her nervous demeanor. Alicent's warm brown eyes were distant, staring ahead at the door guarded by two kingsguard. Her fingers picked at the skin of her thumb, tearing into the flesh. Darla moved without thought, gently capturing Alicent's hands in her own. Warm pools of honey flickered to dark onyx.
"The King is a kindhearted man, he merely wishes for your company. And if it comforts you I will be in there as well." Darla's voice had softened without her even meaning to.
"I won't know what to say." Alicent whispered.
"Ask of his model of Old Valyria. Hisd Grace can speak on the topic for hours."
Alicent nodded, taking a deep breath. A soft smile pulled at Darla's lips as she continued to lead the young teen to the King's Chambers. It was strange how naturally caring had come to her, how Darla hadn't had to force herself to appear kind.
AN: Sorry for the long wait I started Physical Therapy last week and it is kicking my ass
Anyways Darla's so cute and confused by her crush
-ELE