Chapter Text
Daisy, despite having been raised in a castle and leading a life far beyond the expectations of any common born girl, had never felt like a princess until that moment. With her father’s snowy white cloak wrapped around her shoulders and holding onto his gleaming white gauntlet she could be Rhaenys the Conqueror or Queen Daenaera. They walked through the courtyard to the Red Keep’s sept where all of the guests sat in wait for Daisy to arrive.
The doors swung open with a trill of a single flute and Daisy saw Damon waiting for her next to the wheezing old septon. Her groom had commissioned a new set of armor that he wore the breastplate for over a doublet of deep blue. Damon smiled at her shyly as Duncan walked her to him.
“Who gives this girl before the gods?” The septon’s voice rang out as the flutist finished the processional.
“I, Ser Duncan the Tall, Knight of the Seven Kingdoms and the Kingsguard, give my daughter to be wedded.” Dunk took a deep breath. “And, her sire, gives her as well.”
There was immediately a whisper that overtook the crowd as Daisy turned to her father in shock. King Baelor, Lord Lyonel, and Dame Rohanne all stood confidently; although exchanged looks of confusion. Daisy heard a “Stranger’s bloody tits” from Rowan’s corner of the crowd.
“My sire?” Daisy whispered, though the words carried across the crowd.
“They’re here, aye.” Dunk looked ashamed.
“I know, I invited them all.”
“You what?” Dunk looked shocked now. “But I don’t-”
“Can you forgive me?” Daisy pleaded and her father’s face softened.
“Of course, dear one.” He shifted on his feet again. “Can you forgive me? For not knowing?”
“I don’t care if you were knotted by every alpha in the kingdom,” Daisy said earnestly, earning another laugh from Rowan’s corner. “You’re my father. There is nothing to forgive.”
There was a pointed clearing of a throat and a hush fell through the sept as all eyes turned to look at the king.
“Duncan,” Baelor began. “I have made it no secret that I am fond of you. I have loved your daughter as if she were my own, raised her in my home, and now you mean to tell me that she could be of Lord Baratheon or Dame Webber’s seed?”
Dunk drew himself up to his full height. “With due respect, your grace,” He pointedly used the honorific. “I raised my daughter where you had summoned me to be. I have served you to the best of my ability and honor, and we have never spoken of my daughter’s parentage. I have been thankful that you care for her, but I had no way of knowing if she was yours or…yes one of theirs.” He gestured to Lyonel and Rohanne.
“Might I?” Lyonel spoke up when Duncan’s speech dwindled. “I have pups of my own and love them dearly. Even having just a third of Daisy is more than enough for me. She’s a brilliant young woman and I’d be honored to be even part of her sire.”
“Aye, I’ll be a third as well.” Rohanne piped up. “I may not have known you your whole life, child, but I admire your spirit and,” she placed her hand on the shoulder of the person next to her, one Princess Rhae, and possessively twirled a finger around the silvery white hair. “I imagine I will be in the capitol more often, soon. I have been a widow long enough.”
There was a stirring of the crowd at that, for an alpha to so publicly lay claim and announce courting intentions toward a princess of the realm, and at another’s wedding no less. But Daisy just grinned at her friend, who was blushing bright red but brought her hand to lace through Rohanne’s. She could nearly picture Prince Maekar’s face when he found out.
“I’m sure I could ask my aunt for some…assistance finding out your true sire,” Baelor said. “But I agree, even having a third is perfectly alright. I never dreamed I’d have even that much of a daughter.”
The three alphas who claimed her as their own crowded into the aisle of the sept behind Duncan as he passed Daisy’s hand to Damon.
“You’re a good lad.” He said to his new goodson. “Not many got past Egg to try and court her, and you’re the only one so bold as to ask for her hand knowing she’s got half the guards in the keep in the palm of her hand. I’ll be proud to call you family.”
Dunk unclipped his cloak from Daisy’s shoulders and swung it back over his own. Damon draped a plain blue cloak with embroidery of cattails on the bottom over her and took the strip of cloth handed to him by the septon. The septon wrapped the cloth around their hands as they said the seven prayers and then handed the other side to Daisy. They pulled their hands apart to tie the cloth into a knot and finally kissed as man and wife.
The crowd of their family and friends cheered uproariously and followed the newlyweds out of the sept immediately into the small hall to begin the feast, but Duncan stayed back for a moment. He felt as though he were on the outside looking in as he watched the feast and dancing. Late that night he stood on the terrace watching Daisy and Damon pray in the godswood before the heart tree and felt a ringed pinky finger slip into his. The smell of woodsmoke curled up from beside him and with a deep inhale, he could smell poppy and rainwater all observing his little girl as she walked off with her husband.