Chapter Text
Before you met your soulmate, you would have never expected to become the wife of a Targaryen prince. Being the daughter of a minor lord from the Riverlands, you were expected to marry according to your station. House Bracken, or maybe Blackwood, or even Tully, if you could ever be that lucky. Any of those would be great for you.
However, your father, being an ambitious man, took you with him to the capital, hoping you’d catch the eye of a powerful lord, bringing glory and prestige to your house with such a successful match. He made sure you were dressed in modest, yet attractive dresses and a few delicate jewelry, and he instructed you to be within sight of any prospective heirs, either walking up and down the hallways of the Red Keep, or standing close to the courtyard where the knights trained.
You did as he instructed, and you even managed to catch the eye of lord Borros Baratheon, which pleased your father greatly. Your future seemed to be set in stone, and you had even tried to make your peace with it. Growing up you had dreamed of marrying for love, finding that one man who would look at you as if you were his entire world. You now knew of course that such thoughts were foolish dreams, so you compromised. After all, most girls would give up almost everything to become the wife of the lord of Storm’s End.
The day of the tourney organized to celebrate Queen Alicent’s nameday dawned, and you got dressed in your best dress, a violet one with silver flowers embroidered on the sleeves and hem. It was your favorite color ever since you could remember, so you chose it to make sure you made a good impression on lord Borros. He was going to compete in the tourney, so maybe if he won, he would crown you his Queen of Love and Beauty, which was as good as a proposal, according to your father.
You sat in the lower seats, closer to the tourney grounds, eager to see the fights. Most girls were quite squeamish, but not you. You longed to see these brave men compete against each other, like those you had read about in your books. There was even a rumor that prince Daemon, the King’s brother, would compete as well. Everyone at court spoke of him, of his rogue and wild ways. But they also spoke of his flirty nature, and his teasing of every pretty maiden he came across. Recently widowed, after his late wife died in a hunting accident not three moons past, he became the target of every unmarried maiden in court. Your father had warned you to stay away from him though, as it was known how he had disrespected the late lady Rhea Royce during their marriage. There were even rumors that he had not even consummated the marriage, preferring the company of whores. Still, you were curious to see the famous man in person.
The matches began, and they were nothing like you expected. You were not prepared for the brutality of the hits, or the scent of blood that filled the arena every time some unfortunate man got badly wounded. Three men died before midday, yet the people cheered even harder every time the horses clashed. You were starting to reconsider on your opinion of these tourneys.
The next match was announced, and you held your breath. Lord Borros was going to compete against prince Daemon. First lord Borros entered the arena, and he rode his horse up to where you sat, dressed in his shining armor, his helmet in the shape of a stag’s head, complete with antlers.
“My lady, may I have the honor of carrying your favor today, so that I may be victorious in this difficult fight?”
You gave him the wreath you had made with a soft smile, and he even kissed it in front of everyone before he made his way to his corner. You knew that you should have felt something when he did that, but there was nothing. Your heart didn’t beat any faster, your cheeks didn’t heat up, absolutely no reaction. As if your body and mind knew that this man was not the one for you. You shook your head, trying to get such silly notions out of your head. You barely knew lord Borros. In time, you would come to love him. At least, you hoped you would.
Prince Daemon entered the arena, clad in his black armor. His helmet, shaped like the head of a dragon, covered his entire face, leaving only his eyes out. The people cheered for him so loud, it was deafening. He was truly the prince of the city, as you had heard some whisper. People loved their King, but they adored their prince.
He didn’t ask for any lady’s favor, only sat on his magnificent black stallion on the opposite side from lord Borros, the beast eager to jump ahead. The squires gave the lances to the two men, and the match began. The two horses raced towards each other, the lances lowering to hit the opponent. The impact was deafening, prince Daemon’s lance shattering against lord Borros’s shield. The storm lord still sat on his horse however, and when he reached the end of the arena he turned his horse around, then set off to attack the prince once more.
The second run was not much different. Prince Daemon’s lance found its mark once more, only this time it was with enough force to knock lord Borros off his horse, sending him to crash on the dirt. The crowds cheered for their prince, while the announcer declared prince Daemon the winner of the joust.
Lord Borros got up on his feet, swaying a little, unsteady.
“Warhammer!” he yelled, his squire hurrying to give him the mighty weapon.
“Lord Borros wishes to continue in a contest of arms!” the announcer declared, and the crowd cheered anew.
Of course they would want to see more of this, you thought. The people always thirsted for bloodshed, as long as they could observe from a safe distance.
The dragon prince got off his horse and called for his sword. You had never seen the famous Dark Sister before. It was beautiful. He grabbed it and made his way towards lord Borros, twirling the valyrian steel blade in his hand.
The two men came together in the middle of the field, the clang of their weapons echoing all over the arena. Lord Borros fought angrily, swinging the warhammer at prince Daemon, but the other man was too quick for him. The dragon dodged all the attacks, delivering blows to the storm lord’s sides. At one point, lord Borros almost managed to crush the prince with a blow on his shield, but the hammer lodged into the wood, and the two men wrestled, trying to separate, with little success. Prince Daemon saw an opportunity and kicked Lord Borros’s feet from under him, sending him crashing to the ground. The storm lord lost his grip on his hammer and, before he could grab it once more, the dragon prince jumped on him and placed his blade against his neck, immobilizing him.
“Yield,” he declared.
Lord Borros huffed and puffed, but saw that there was no way to escape.
The prince pushed the blade a bit further, drawing the tiniest amount of blood from his opponent’s neck.
“Yield, or die before your lady’s eyes,” he called out, much to your embarrassment.
Defeated, lord Borros yielded, and the crowds cheered once more for their prince.
Victorious, prince Daemon walked all the way where lord Borros has tossed his lance and removed the wreath you had made. He walked his way toward the seating area, stopping right in front of you. You could feel your blood freezing in your veins, and you wondered what he was going to do. Would he ridicule you in front of everyone? Beside you, your father also stood motionless.
The dragon prince removed his helmet and lifted his gaze to look at you. The moment your eyes locked, the ice in you was replaced with fire. All traces of fear and embarrassment vanished, and a warm feeling filled you from your toes to your head. You wanted to move, to step away from whatever it was he was doing to you, but your body wouldn’t respond. You saw those deep violet eyes, the same color as your dress, staring right into your soul, but you didn’t fear them. You knew, deep in your heart, that he would never hurt you.
The prince seemed to be bereft of speech as well, staring at you, saying nothing. His mouth was slightly open, his chest rising slowly. In the end, he smiled at you, a soft smile that sent a new wave of warmth through you.
After you father coughed a bit loudly, he seemed to return to his senses, and a smirk replaced the soft smile on his face.
“My lady, I believe this is yours,” he offered the wreath to you. His voice sent jolts up and down your spine, like invisible fingers teasing your back.
You took the wreath in your trembling hands, your eyes never leaving his.
“It seems you favor helped me more than your storm lord,” the prince teased you, his eyes full of playfulness.
“Then you should keep it my prince,” you replied, and you could feel your father tensing even more beside you.
You knew that such a move was outrageous, that you would be the talk of the entire court, but you didn’t care. Something in you screamed at you to do it, so you did.
The prince was surprised by your reply, but he quickly recovered, and took the wreath back in his hands.
“Thank you sweet lady,” the prince bowed his head, licking his lips as he gave you one last glance. Then he turned and exited the arena, while the people cheered him once more.
--
Your father was furious when you returned to your chambers.
“What were you thinking, offering your favor to your intended’s opponent? Do you know how that makes you look in his eyes?” he raged, while you sat on your seat, head down, hands clasped tightly on your lap.
“I apologize father, but I thought it was only right, since prince Daemon defeated lord Borros,” you muttered.
“You foolish girl,” he threw his goblet on the floor, “what if lord Borros decides not to ask for your hand, what will we do then?”
Though you knew you should be horrified at such a prospect, you were actually relieved at the idea. Somehow, you no longer could imagine yourself beside lord Baratheon, playing the role of dutiful wife, raising your children and keeping your house in order.
In your imagination, the man beside you had flowing silver hair, a pair of haunting violet eyes and a playful smirk that promised of many mischiefs.
The warmth you had felt earlier returned, but only until your father’s words broke through your pleasant fantasy.
“Tomorrow night, at the banquet, you will do your very best to get close to lord Borros, and make sure you are far away from the prince. His reputation is more than enough to destroy you, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let that spoiled brat ruin my plans.”
You had the sudden urge to defend the dragon prince, but you shut your mouth before you could say anything that would further anger your father. Instead, you bowed your head, promising to do your duty, even if you didn’t like it.
--
The next day, your father had to meet with some important people, so you took the opportunity to escape to the gardens, hoping that the pretty flowers and the quiet would help clear your mind. You had spent your night dreaming of violet eyes, dragonfire and a sultry voice that beckoned to you. You woke up sweaty and with an unexplained ache between your legs. You had no idea what is was, so you did your best to ignore it.
You dressed in a simple light blue dress, tied your hair in a simple braid and made your way down to the gardens, trying to avoid any people. You knew that you had been the talk of the day, so you tried to steer clear of any gossipers, if only to keep the situation from getting worse.
You found a nice secluded spot in the gardens and sat on a stone bench, enjoying the delicate flowers blooming all over you and the birds chirping on the trees. You spent a lot of time just looking around taking in the vibrant colors, the different fragrances and the gentle breeze that caressed your face.
You were so lost in your own little world, that you didn’t hear the footsteps that approached your little spot.
“Good morning my lady,” the voice that had haunted your dreams last night came from your right, and a shiver ran down your spine.
You turned to look at him, and your breath paused, just like the day before. What was it about him that made you feel like that?
“Good morning my prince,” you nodded, averting your gaze, even if it hurt you to do so. You remembered your father’s words, and rose from your seat, hoping to leave before anyone saw you with the prince.
“Do I frighten you so much that you want to flee at my very sight?” the dragon prince questioned, making you pause. He was dressed in a white linen shirt and a black leather doublet emblazoned with the sigil of his house. Black pants and boots completed his attire. His sword was absent, but he had a dagger strapped on his belt.
“No my prince, I just thought you might want to be alone, I don’t mean to impose.”
“On the contrary, I was actually looking for you.”
You turned to look at him, and tried really hard not to let those haunting violet eyes consume you whole.
“Why?” was all you were able to reply.
“I was just curious to meet the woman lord Borros is so interested in. If you managed to attract his attention for more than a night, then you must be someone special.”
You felt your cheeks redden at his comment. It was well known that lord Borros frequented the Street of Silk, and had even fathered no less than three bastards, on three different women. And the worst? He kept all three women close to Storm’s End, and visited each of them when he felt like it.
When you had mentioned all that to your father, he had simply shrugged and said: “As long as he decides to marry you and gives you an heir, the rest is irrelevant.”
You gritted your teeth, trying not to let your anger get the best of you. After all, this was a member of the royal family you stood before. No matter what he said, you had to remain calm.
“Excuse me my prince, I think I’ll take my walk in a different place,” you simply replied, avoiding to look at him.
“Why, we are having a pleasant conversation,” the man had the audacity to ask. You could feel the smugness emanating from him, you really could.
“No we don’t,” you flashed your gaze at him. “You’d have to be pleasant for that to happen my prince, and I assure you, you are anything but pleasant. Good day,” you curtsied, abandoning him in the gardens.
You knew that he had enjoyed tormenting you with his cruel words. You wanted nothing more than to hurt him in some way, but instead you decided to take a long walk, hoping to let off some steam. Maybe if you found lord Borros and managed to get him to ask for your hand, you’d soon get married and get as far away from the capital as possible.
--
Daemon stood in the spot you had left him, watching you as you fled from the gardens, amused. He had no idea why he liked riling you up, but he did. He could feel the anger flowing through you, he relished in the feeling it gave him.
He had caught a glimpse of you just before the tourney had started, when that oaf Baratheon had made a spectacle of asking for your favor. Did he really think that such a pathetic move would be enough to win over the heart of a woman?
Daemon could see that you were not interested in him. You were just doing your duty, as per your station. Yet your father was trying his best to get the storm lord to ask for your hand, despite the foul reputation the oaf had.
It would be a shame, Daemon thought, to let a woman like you be sullied by a man like Borros. It was why he had brought the favor back to you after the match had ended. It was scandalous, to be sure, but Daemon was never known to be a man of discretion. Not to mention that your dress was his favorite shade of purple, so close to the color of his eyes. It almost called to him.
He still remembered that warm feeling that had enveloped him when your eyes met. It was like nothing he had ever felt before. Being a dragon, he was no stranger to warmness and fire; yet this was different. This type of fire was neither harmful, nor scorching. It was the sort you felt when you were near someone you cared, someone you wanted to spend the rest of your life with…
He shook his head, trying to get a grip on his wild emotions. Perhaps it would be best to steer clear of you for the foreseeable future. It was not his place to interfere with the affairs of lords and ladies. He promised to keep away from you, hoping the oaf would ask for your hand soon, and you’d be out of his life soon. Yes, that would be ideal. He left the gardens, heading to the Dragonpit to take Caraxes for a flight, ignoring the pang he felt when he thought of you married to the Baratheon fool. Yes, a flight would surely help him clear his head.