Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, Game of Thrones, House of the Dragon, nor any of George RR Martin's works

Rated M for strong language, violence, adult content, adult situations, incest, age-gap relationships, and some sexual content

Trigger warnings: mentions of rape and sexual assault

Enjoy

King's Landing, 126 AC...

Ser Luthor Largent waited at the bottom of the side stairs of the Red Keep. He leaned against the stone with his arms folded over his chest, occasionally checking both ends of the alley. Most regular folks did not venture down the alley. Often assuming it was a dead end behind the row of shops that butted up against the castle. A cloaked figure descended the stairs, petite and dressed in commoner clothes. The Captain of the City Watch harrumphed at the sight of the stranger. "You're late, Princess."

Daella readjusted her hood, making sure her hair was hidden. "Forgive me, Ser Luthor. I got a bit lost."

"Stay close or else you shall truly be lost, Princess," he warned.

Luthor pushed off the wall and stalked towards the alley exit. Daella had to walk fast to keep up. The knight was a giant, standing about seven-foot tall, and her short legs did her no favors. Despite the late hour, the streets were bustling with activity. Vendors offered tasty snacks, various religious statues, exotic wines, and even more exotic pets. Performers swallowed fire and spewed it up into the air like dragons, mummers put on a show about the fighting in the Stepstones...it was chaotic, nightmarish, euphoric...Daella loved it.

An old woman selling fortunes waved at Daella. "Come closer, child," she beckoned, "and I will tell you of green dreams and black desires."

"Piss off," Ser Luthor growled.

He latched onto Daella's shoulder and pulled her close, forcing her to practically run alongside him. Daella tried to recall the maps of King's Landing she had studied growing up. There were so many side streets and alleys serving as shortcuts. Luthor dragged the princess down a pitch-black path, away from the stink of Flea Bottom. His fingers began to dig into her shoulder. "Release me. You're going to break my arm off."

"Only because you're too soft," he said, releasing her. "Dainty princesses shouldn't be sneaking about the lawless streets of the city at night. You could get yourself killed...or worse."

Daella rolled her now aching joint. Her hood slid back and she quickly yanked it back into place. She didn't need to ask him what "or worse" meant. The lords and servants of the Red Keep constantly gossiped about the corrupted city. Luthor turned away from the busy streets and cut through a damp, shit-smelly alley. Daella covered her nose to keep from gagging. They exited into a wide, clean street. Rows and rows of grand mansions as far as the eye could see. A few wealthy merchants walked by, discussing their issues with trade. "Come on, girl," Luthor hissed, heading south. "This way."

She obliged. A strong breeze swept through the street and Daella pulled her cloak tight around her body. Luthor brought her to a two-story manse made of bright white stone with black shutters. They went around back. A girl not much older than Daella was waiting with a scruffy-looking man. They both bowed. "Welcome, Princess."

Daella gave a stiff nod of her head, glancing around to make sure no one heard them. The girl opened the door and light poured into the alley, scaring a couple of stray cats. Ser Luthor slapped his massive hand against Daella's stomach. "I'm going to patrol this sector. I'll come to pick you up in an hour or so."

"You're not staying?"

"You're quite safe here," the girl told Daella. "No one would dare harm you."

With that, Ser Luthor turned on his heels and was exiting the alley before the princess could protest. Daella swallowed her doubts, shoving them deep down. She gave the girl and her sellsword companion a polite smile and entered the manse. Daella waited until they shut the door to push her hood back a bit and studied her surroundings. A small courtyard with a garden at its center. A young lemon tree provided cover over the flowers. The girl gestured for Daella to follow her up a set of stairs to the right. The sellsword opted to remain in the courtyard. "My name is Shayla," the girl said. "If you're in need of anything, Princess, just ask."

"Thank you," Daella said.

At the top of the stairs was a patio fitted with fine Lyseni furniture. A beautiful, dark-haired woman waited on the sofa in the center of the room. She rose and greeted Daella with a soft bow of her head. "Princess, it's an honor."

Daella tentatively approached, eyeing the woman from head to toe. She noticed a thick, jagged scar around the Lyseni woman's neck. "You're the White Wyrm, I take it?"

"Yes, but you may call me Mysaria."

Daella sat down on the opposite sofa, pushing her hood all the way off. "My uncle sends his regards."

"You may give him my condolences on the loss of his beloved wife, Princess...as well as my congratulations on his new marriage," Mysaria said with a smirk.

Daella watched the woman with a suspicious frown. When Daemon told her to seek out the White Wyrm, she only did so out of curiosity. She initially had no intention of taking her uncle's advice, but the thought of an intricate network of spies intrigued her. Daella had heard the rumors of little fireflies buzzing around the Queen, filling her ears with secrets. Whispers of dark methods that could bring about Rhaenyra's downfall. This is how we help your sister, Daemon had told her. Daella took a deep breath and summoned her resolve. "Shall we begin?"

The Stepstones, 4 years later...

A lone Velaryon ship coasted through the narrow channel between the little islands. Flanked on either side by high rocky cliffs. The tattered sigil of the ancient Valyrian house rippled from the cold wind. Archers appeared from the shadows of the cliffs, arrows aimed at the derelict vessel limping along. More and more poked their heads out from the various hidden caves. The captains raised their hands, signaling for the Triarchy soldiers to hold. The wind snapped through the channel, blasting the men's already wind-burnt faces. The gray sky brightened to a brilliant green. The archers looked up just as spirals of green flame descended upon them. The archers on the cliffs screamed as Starfyre soared by, burning them all as if the she-dragon spewed wildfire itself. Arrows flew from the other side, bouncing harmlessly off her orange scales. A blur of movement rose up into the sky from the Velaryon ship. Dark blue like the dawn. Twilight unleashed flames to the opposite cliff.

The two dragons sailed up into the sky, arcing back around to unleash more fire. Alyssa signaled to Laenys, ordering her to circle back around. The Velaryon dragonrider nodded and steered Twilight away. Alyssa pushed Starfyre back towards the cliffs. Arrows whizzed by her head, but she remained focused on her goal. "Drakarys!"

Starfyre bathed the entire cliffside in her fury. Triarchy soldiers screamed and fell into the water below. More enemy soldiers appeared to take their place, firing their arrows at will. Alyssa shielded her face as Starfyre flapped her wings harder. Twilight swooped down and burned the new archers to a crisp. Laenys hollered in victory, her cheers echoing through the channel. Alyssa glanced back at the water to see the Velaryon derelict exit safely into open water. She whistled and Laenys carried the tune to the merchant ships waiting to make it through. Two Braavosi and a Manderly cruised into the channel. The sailors waved and shouted their thanks to the dragonriders. Laenys directed Twilight to the top of the cliffs, burning a few Triarchy stragglers along the way.

The dragons roared triumphantly as they headed back to the Velaryon base camp. Dwarfstone had become a proper fortification. With Dorne's assistance, the soldiers built 12-foot tall stone walls to border the entire island. Starfyre and Twilight circled around the island twice before settling in the large meadow. Laenys grabbed swiveled on her saddle and slid down Twilight's back to his tail, landing on her feet. She took off her helmet, audibly sighing in relief as she released her hair. Alyssa walked over and threw an arm around her cousin's shoulders. "Well done. You performed that maneuver better than I did fifteen years ago."

Laenys blushed, smiling brightly. "Thank you, Princess."

"I daresay there is no dragon faster than Twilight. You've trained him well."

"We trained together," Laenys corrected. "Moving through the sky as one. No greater feeling in the world."

They made their way through the camp. Velaryon and Dornish soldiers greeted the dragonriders as they passed. Laenys appreciated the respect the soldiers gave her. When she first joined her father in his campaign, many assumed she wouldn't last a week. A one-armed dragonrider? But Laenys proved them all wrong. She thrived under her cousin's instruction and the Sea Snake's command. A few commanders have even said she served the cause better than her brother. The thought of Laenor made her throat tight. "Do you think the fighting will be done by the end of the year?"

"Possibly," Alyssa said. "Though, I suspect Volantis is supplying the Triarchy with sellsword companies and ships."

"They're an enemy of the Triarchy, are they not?"

"The old city is a fickle bitch."

Laenys laughed. They entered the command tent and Alyssa released her cousin. Lord Corlys was surveying a map of the Stepstones. Two of his captains were removing Triarchy pieces off the board. "The serpent channel is clear, Father," Laenys reported. "The three merchant ships passed through unobstructed."

"Wonderful," he praised. "Another step towards pushing the damned corsairs back."

Alyssa walked over to the side table to grab herself a cup of wine. She noticed a stack of unopened scrolls. Most were from Driftmark. Unanswered pleas and summons from Princess Rhaenys, begging and ordering her lord husband to return her daughter to her. Two scrolls caught her eye. One from Sunspear, and the other from King's Landing. Alyssa downed her wine and brought the scrolls to the main table. "When did these arrive?"

Lord Corlys glanced briefly at the scrolls in her hands. "Just this morning, I think."

The Princess Consort humphed and opened the one from Sunspear while Laenys grabbed the other to read. Alyssa read her husband's brief message. Damn. "I'm being summoned back home."

Corlys snapped his head up. "What for?"

"Triarchy corsairs have been raiding the southern coasts," she said with a defeated sigh. "Both Lemonwood and Salt Shore have been attacked."

"We're so close to driving the Triarchy from the Stepstones," Corlys reminded pleadingly. "All we've accomplished would be for naught if you leave now."

"I understand, my lord, but I cannot leave my subjects defenseless. This is part of my duty to Dorne." She thought for a moment. "As soon as I take care of the pirates, I will return. I have faith in Lady Laenys. She is more than capable of handling things here."

"I can do it, Father," Laenys added.

Corlys studied his daughter worriedly. He nodded reluctantly. Alyssa rolled up the scroll. She was hesitant to leave after spending the last six months fighting side-by-side Laenys. And it felt a bit unfair to return home when her soldiers had to stay. "Perhaps...we ought to petition the King again, my lord? Prince Aegon is a man grown and should be gaining battle experience."

"Even if you did, the King would not allow it," Laenys said. All eyes turned to her. She held up the scroll. "Prince Aegon is getting married."

King's Landing...

The night was cold but the castle was even colder. Daella stood on the outskirts of the dance floor, watching the bride and groom sitting on their own at the head table. Helaena pushed her food around her plate. Daella thought her sister looked beautiful. The young bride wore an ivory dress with pale blue details to mirror Dreamfyre's scales. Her hair was coiled about her head in thick braids with little tendrils of curls framing her face. Aegon would be deemed handsome by many unassuming guests, but his face was red from drink and his eyes puffy from the drinking he did the day before. The King had gone to bed the moment the ceremony was over, only having enough energy to walk Helaena down the aisle and nothing more. There had been no preference on when the wedding would take place, but if it were up to Daella, her half-siblings would've waited a few more years. "I had just turned fifteen when I married the King," Alicent had told her. "Helaena is old enough."

Daella took a gulp of wine to chase that memory away. The music was upbeat and many guests danced and laughed. But there was a dark cloud hanging overhead. It was a Targaryen wedding. But there were very few actual Targaryens in attendance. Daella knew her sister would not come but had made a point to invite her. Alicent graciously promised peace and open arms. Rhaenyra wrote back with news that she had gone into labor again. She could have sent her sons...or Daemon is daughters to attend, many whispered. Daella did not bother with a defense. She saw no point.

"...so ugly."

Daella casually took another sip as she tilted her head ever so slightly. A trio of young ladies were huddled behind her, whispering to each other. Their curious gazes were glued to the silver-haired prince sitting by his lonesome across the hall. Daella tilted her head a bit more to peek at the ladies. A Stokeworth and two Hightowers. "He looks so scary, does he not?" asked the Stokeworth girl.

"He's sort of...handsome," said one of the Hightowers. "If you ignore that ugly scar."

The other Hightower girl lowered her voice, "at least he covers up his eye. I heard that it was one of Princess Rhaenyra's sons that took it. Savaged the young prince for looking at him the wrong way."

"What a shame. I pity whichever poor girl has to marry him and see that every night. It must be ghastly to look upon."

Daella whirled around and approached the girls with the sweetest smile she could muster. "Would you ladies care to say that again to Prince Aemond's face?" she asked. The three girls stared at her, jaws open like caught fish. "Better yet, you could say it to Vhagar. Though, the old she-dragon doesn't particularly care for twats like you. But my dragon, Silverwing? Well, she loves the taste."

The girls paled. Daella set her empty cup atop the Stokeworth girl's head and walked away. She made her way around the dance floor and approached the table her half-brother sat at. His clothes were no different than his normal attire. A fine, black leather shirt with silver clasps carved like dragon heads, dark pants, and black boots. The simple, brown eyepatch he wore stood out against his silver hair. Daella slapped her hands down on the table, leaning towards him. "Dance with me."

Aemond blinked at her. "Shouldn't I be the one asking you?"

"Ask me then."

"I don't want to dance," he said, turning away.

She leaned closer. "If you do not dance with me, I shall have to ask Aegon and it would be a shame if I made our sister a widow so soon after her wedding."

Aemond failed to suppress a smile. With an annoyed grunt, he got up and took her hand, heading towards the dance floor. Daella smiled at his back triumphantly. As they walked past the head table, Daella noticed Aegon watching them. The groom held up his wine cup, drunkenly toasting them before guzzling whatever was left. Helaena grabbed the nearby pitcher and poured more into her husband's cup. Daella frowned, perplexed by her sister's actions. But her vision was suddenly blocked by various dancing bodies.

The music had changed to a softer tune. Aemond ignored the curious stares he was getting as they joined in. Daella smiled coyly at him, happy that he was dancing with her and also that every second spent dancing nearly killed him. They looked their arms together and twirled in tandem with the beat. Daella had grown a bit over the years, standing at equal height to Alicent. Aemond was barely an inch taller than her now. He had matured a lot, having lost most of the roundness of his cheeks and the softness of boyhood. There were times he seemed older than Aegon.

Aemond grabbed her by the waist and twirled her in the air. His sudden closeness surprised her, making her heart jump. He set her down and they continued with the dance. Daella's smile brightened, delighting in the rhythmic drum beats and the small smile on Aemond's face. A few guests moved around them and Daella caught a glimpse of a familiar face. In the shadows of the hall, her handmaid, Malia, was waiting with an urgent expression. Daella's heart sank. She kept herself happy and carefree. And though she was unwilling, she spun away from Aemond.

A Tyrell lady took her place and Daella danced with her son. She kept up the pattern, weaving her way through the crowd until she was sure she had lost Aemond. Daella swept by a few guests and ducked into the shadows. She hid behind one of the large columns and waited. Malia approached, head down so as to not draw attention to herself. "I bring word from the White Wyrm," she whispered. "They found one."

Daella glanced around to make sure no one was watching. "Is she certain?"

Malia nodded. "She requests you come see for yourself, Princess."

"Now?" She scoffed when the handmaid nodded again. "This is my sister's wedding. I cannot leave now without raising suspicion."

"What should I tell her, Princess?"

Daella noticed a guest walking by and pushed Malia further around the column to remain hidden. "I'll find a way."

Malia bowed and scurried away. Daella glanced over her shoulder and saw the guest coming around was Lord Larys. She picked up her skirts and hurried away herself. The last thing she wanted was to be cornered by the Lord Confessor. A few guests greeted Daella and she returned the favor, thanking them for attending. She glanced over at the dance floor. To her surprise, Aemond was dancing with one of Tyland Lannister's nieces. From where she stood, Daella could see the young lioness blushing. The sight of them together made her sad. Daella quickly shook it off. No. She was happy for him. Truly.

Daella turned to leave and nearly jumped out of her skin. "Seven hells, Helaena!" She placed a hand over her heart. "I told you to stop doing that."

Helaena eyed her sister worriedly. "I think I gave Aegon too much wine."

Daella looked over at the head table but found it empty. "Where is he?"

"Outside."

She frowned and then grabbed her sister's hand, dragging her around the celebration to the exit. Daella grabbed a pitcher of water off a random table and hurried up the stairs. Helaena led her to the left towards a cove that opened to a balcony. There was a bench just to the right where Aegon was laying, his hair draped over his face. Daella gave the pitcher to Helaena as she checked over their brother. "Aegon?" She moved his hair out of the way. His face was paler than usual. She looked back at her sister. "How much did you give him?"

"At least five pitchers."

"Five?! Were you trying to kill him?"

Helaena shrugged helplessly. Daella pulled Aegon into a sitting position and began slapping his face, trying to wake him up. She couldn't quite tell if he was breathing. "Aegon. Aegon, wake up. Wake up!"

He fell back onto the cushion, groaning softly. At least he's alive. Daella snatched the pitcher and tossed the water onto his face. It did nothing.

"Ilībōños," Daella growled. She slapped Aegon harder, but he only groaned louder. His cheek began to turn red.

Helaena grabbed onto her sister's elbow. "Gift of seed and collection of silver sires...take heed of black dreams and green desires."

"What? How does that help us right now?"

"I don't know...but take heed of black dreams and green desires," she urged.

Daella shook her sister off. She would have to decipher her warnings later. Daella brushed Aegon's hair off his face again and squeezed his cheeks to open his mouth. She summoned her resolve and stuck her fingers deep into his mouth. Aegon lurched and Daella withdrew her hand just as her brother spilled half-digested wine onto the stone balcony. Helaena jumped back to avoid being splashed, cradling the water pitcher tightly to her chest. Daella rubbed Aegon's back as he threw up more wine. When he was done, he slumped back and frowned up at his sisters. "What the fuck did you do that for?"

"If I hadn't, you'd be dead," Daella told him. "Get up. You need to get to bed."

He looked from Daella to Helaena. "Is this some strange dream?"

"Unfortunately for us, no."

Aegon yanked his arm out of her grasp. "The night is...the night is so loud. Can you hear it?" He leaned forward and threw up again. "Oh...it's quiet now."

Daella slapped a hand to her forehead. The clanking of armor drew her attention to the doorway. The Cargyll twins, Ser Otto, and Aemond appeared. The Queen hurried around them and her eyes went wide at the sight of her son. "What is going on here?"

"He had too much wine," Daella said. "We found him out here."

She stepped aside so that everyone could see the mess on the ground in front of the groom. Otto inhaled sharply, his lips disappearing beneath his mustache. "Take the prince to his room," he ordered.

The Cargyll twins obeyed. Ser Arryk grabbed the prince by his arm and dragged him away from the pool of wine. Aegon weakly protested, waving his arms to avoid their grasp. The knights hooked their hands under each arm and jerked Aegon to his feet. Helaena clung to her sister as her husband was carried back inside. Daella frowned at her but could not hold onto her disapproval. "You could have killed him," she whispered. "Kinslaying is serious, sister."

Helaena peeked over at the Queen and the Hand. "No one would've known it was me."

Aemond snapped his gaze to them. Helaena hid her face, fidgeting with the embroidery on her sister's dress. Alicent walked over to the sisters, smoothing her hands over her flat stomach. "My love...you should go with your husband."

"Aegon's in no condition to 'perform', my Queen," Daella pointed out. "Can't the consummation wait until-"

Alicent waved her off. "I appreciate your concern, Princess, but it is important that their marriage is finalized. Helaena, come."

Helaena eyed her mother warily and tightened her grip on Daella's arm. Alicent reached for her and Helaena ducked behind her sister. The bride walked around Daella and stormed past her mother, brother, and grandfather. Her dress billowing from how fast she hurried inside. Daella said nothing, feeling Helaena's actions were loud enough. She curtsied and dismissed herself, not wanting to remain in the awkward silence a moment longer. She caught Aemond's gaze as she walked by him. The question on his face was evident, but Daella looked away. Choosing instead to hold onto her secrets.

Mysaria's Manse, later that night...

Daella nibbled on her thumbnail as she stared at the silver-haired toddler. The boy stared back with a blank look on his face. He was rather adorable with dark purple eyes and a cleft chin. Daella sighed and looked up at the boy's mother. A pretty, red-haired serving wench. "What's your name?"

"Sarra, if it pleases you, Princess," she said, keeping her head down and her hands clasped in front of her.

"And how old are you?"

Sarra hesitated for a moment. "Sixteen."

Daella looked at the boy again. "And your son is three?"

Sarra nodded. Daella glanced at Mysaria who showed no reaction to the serving girl's answer. She turned back to Sarra. "Who else knows about your son? Tommy, was it?"

"Yes, Princess. My mum knows...no one else. Though, it's difficult to conceal his looks."

Daella pursed her lips and thanked the girl for her time. Shayla escorted Sarra and Tommy to the stairs. Mysaria looked to the Princess expectantly, her face asking the obvious question. Daella reluctantly nodded. "He's Aegon's."

"There are more," Mysaria said. "Whores on the Street of Silk who claim to be carrying the young prince's child in their bellies."

"What is their goal? Money? Power?"

Mysaria patted the sofa cushion beside her, and Daella reluctantly sat. "It is no secret that the young prince enjoys the comforts of being so far down the line of succession. The girls he visits on the Street of Silk know they will get no power through him. Money? Possibly."

"My brother hardly gives his own family a second thought. He won't care about his bastards," Daella pointed out. "All it would do is aggravate the Queen."

"Ah. Yes. The Queen," the White Wyrm mused. "She spent ten years screaming about Strong sons to no avail...how would she handle this delicate matter?"

Daella rubbed her bottom lip as she thought. She considered Mysaria's question. How would Alicent react if she found out her son was guilty of the same crime she claimed Rhaenyra was? Would she look the other way? Daella's thoughts turned to her sister. She knew Rhaenyra's ascension would be challenged by the Queen and Ser Otto. The rumors about her three eldest sons' true father would be brought into question once again. They would appeal her status as heir. As much as she wished it were untrue, Daella knew deep down the Hightowers desired Aegon on the throne. All because he has a fucking cock.

"Can you see after Sarra and the boy?" she asked. "Make sure she has decent work and is kept safe from...those who would seek to cover up my brother's sins?"

Mysaria raised a curious eyebrow. "And what do you intend to do with your bastard nephew?"

"He is physical proof of my brother's transgression. His mother, on the other hand," Daella leaned back against the sofa, "is more valuable. Sarra is no whore. She used to work in the kitchens of the Red Keep."

"I am surprised you even recognize her," Mysaria said. "Faces of servants tend to blur together."

Daella chose to ignore the jape. "It's no secret...Aegon's habits. The serving girls avoid his rooms at all costs unless there is someone else present to deter his wandering hands."

"I have heard the tales."

"The Queen and her father will push Aegon ahead of Rhaenyra the moment my father dies," she continued, "and even though my brother has no desire to rule...the gods have yet to make a man who lacks the patience for absolute power."

Mysaria leaned towards her. "As a man, your brother's bastards will turn no heads. Would it not only embarrass his wife, your sister?"

"Helaena dried to drown him in wine earlier so as to not suffer him in her bed...she nearly killed him." Daella heaved a great sigh. "It's not the bastards themselves, it's the very idea of them. The Queen takes pride in presenting a facade of honor and duty. Womanizing is one thing, but rape? No amount of holy oils could erase that stain."

"What makes you so certain Sarra was raped?" Daella gave the Lyseni a sad, stern look. Mysaria nodded softly. "The hard truth is that no one would believe the word of a servant over a prince."

Daella considered her words, letting them roll around in her head. "They would when the might of House Targaryen stands behind her. Many years ago, Ser Otto plotted to besmirch my sister...to paint her as a wanton girl not fit to be the heir. Planted doubts in my father's mind and got my uncle banished from court."

"So it is revenge then?" Mysaria asked with a smirk.

"Better...I shall give them the 'hard truth'."

The next day...

Daella landed roughly on the ground. Her head reeled from being so unceremoniously thrown over her opponent's shoulders. She glared up at the sky, mentally kicking herself. Her opponent loomed over her, darkened by the sunlight behind him. "Are you alright, Princess?"

"You did that on purpose."

Ser Erryk knelt down and smiled down at her. "You made it too easy."

Daella smacked his hand away, rejecting his aid as she rolled onto her side and sat up. "Let's go again."

The knight nodded dutifully. He twirled the knife in his hand and stepped back as Daella got to her feet. Erryk lunged at her. Daella jumped back to avoid the swipe to her middle. She had to move twice as fast as she was outmatched by Erryk's height advantage. He closed the distance between them and she blocked each strike, pushing with all her might against his strength. She managed to gain some space but Erryk flipped the knife in his hand and stabbed at her. Daella grabbed his wrist with both hands and twisted him to the left. Erryk elbowed her in the chest to free himself. Daella yelped and stumbled back, nearly losing her footing. He swung at her again and Daella ducked. She punched him, hitting him square on the cheek, and then hopped up and slammed her knee into his gut.

Grabbing onto his arm, she pressed her back to him and used her hips to lift him off his feet. Erryk grunted as he landed hard on the ground, small clouds of dirt puffing up around him. Daella used the opportunity to take the knife from him. Twisting his arm painfully around her body, she pressed him down with her knee and held the blade against his neck. The Kingsguard smiled at her. "Well done, Princess."

She snorted, relishing her victory. "Had to even the score before we called it a day."

Erryk snorted this time. Daella released him, stepping back to catch her breath. "I daresay you're ready for the royal progress," the knight said. "I might need you to protect me from the bandits that stalk the Kingswood."

Daella blinked. "You do realize we will be flying to Storm's End?"

"You will be. I will have to travel the long way with the rest of your attendants."

"I don't need attendants," she said, rolling her eyes. "All I need is my sworn protector. Silverwing can handle the extra weight."

Erryk furrowed his brows at the thought of flying. Daella chuckled at his uneasiness. She patted his back as they headed back to the castle. "Fear not, Ser Erryk. It's a relatively short flight."

That provided him little comfort. The forest they were in was small, barely an acre that butted up to the cliffs just south of the city. Daella often had to walk through it to reach the pathway to Silverwing's nest. It was the perfect secluded area to train without the prying eyes of the court. Erryk strapped his sword to his hip while Daella carried their practice swords and knife. Her entire body tingled with excitement, adrenaline still fresh in her veins. The royal progress was her idea. Each realm longed to strengthen its bond with the crown, and the King was in no position to tour. And Rhaenyra had just given birth. Alicent pushed for Aegon and Helaena to take the responsibility, but even Ser Otto knew it would be folly to send the drunken prince. "Let me go, Father," she had told him. "I will be your voice and represent the crown admirably and dutifully."

The King agreed so long as she brought her sworn protector with her. Hardly a sacrifice, she noted. Ser Erryk had proved his trustworthiness ten times over.

"Halt!"

They both froze. Erryk shot an arm out protectively in front of Daella. At the edge of the forest, Ser Criston and Aemond were waiting with a couple of Hightower guards. Daella brushed Erryk's arm aside. "What is the meaning of this?"

"You tell us, Princess," Criston demanded. "We've come to return you to safety. Yet we find you hiding in the woods with your sworn protector. All alone."

"I'm not alone if I'm with my sworn protector, Ser Criston." She glanced at Aemond who was glaring at her suspiciously. Daella narrowed her eyes at him, growing irritated. "As you all can see, I am quite safe and well. Ser Erryk and I were just returning to the Keep so all of this-" she gestured to them "-is a bit overdramatic."

"Our concern for your safety is a serious matter, sister," Aemond said. He lowered his gaze to the sparring weapons in her hands. "Tells us what the two of you were doing out here."

She held up the swords. "Training, obviously."

"And this requires secrecy?" Criston snapped. He flicked his glare to Erryk. "Care to explain yourself, Ser? You jeopardize the Princess' very life bringing her all the way out here."

Daella spoke before Erryk could. "Tell me, Ser Criston, if I had come to you to train, would you have obliged? I thought my lack of a cock deem me unworthy of your tutelage."

Criston inhaled sharply, looking away for a moment as he shook his head. "You are a Princess of the Seven Kingdoms. Your duty does not require you to wield a sword."

"Your arrogance is astounding," she scoffed. "You owe your very position to Queen Visenya, Ser. It was her, a great swords-woman herself and wielder of Dark Sister, that created the Kingsguard in the first place." She flicked her gaze to Aemond. "And you, brother? You ride the great queen's dragon. Do you disapprove of my desire to simply be able to defend myself?"

Aemond lowered his gaze, swallowing the rising shame. "Your hostility is unnecessary. Ser Criston would've trained you had you only asked."

Daella shook her head in disbelief. Ser Criston stepped forward, reaching for the princess' arm. "Come at once. You will tell her grace what you have done."

"Do not touch me," she warned. Daella stomped past him. She glared at Aemond as she walked by. She stopped and leaned in close. "Coward."

King's Chambers...

"I hardly consider this a serious offense."

King Viserys looked from his furious daughter to his Hand and his Queen. He waved his hand towards the lot of them. "It is not uncommon for Targaryen women to wield swords and shields."

"They'd rather keep me feeble and helpless, Father," Daella said.

"That is not true," Alicent insisted. "It is your secrecy we take issue with, Princess. Ser Erryk is a fine teacher, I'm sure, but he should have trained you within the safety of the Keep...not in the woods. If you had been happened upon by bandits or worse, we'd be none the wiser."

"Have you such little faith in the Kingsguard?"

"Daella," the King scolded. He rubbed his forehead, groaning. Daella felt a pang of guilt in her gut. Her father had grown worse over the years. The news of Rhaenyra and Daemon hit him hard. His hair was all but gone and his cheeks were hollowing, turning gaunt. The rot from his left arm had begun to spread to his right side. Viserys huffed, pushing through his pain. "I do agree that Ser Erryk should've known better than to train you outside the confines of the castle."

Erryk bowed his head. "Forgive me, your grace."

"To earn back our trust, you will be re-assigned to Prince Aegon, Ser Erryk." Daella and Erryk exchanged glances. "Ser Arryk will serve as Princess Daella's sworn protector."

Daella nodded, accepting his decree. Ser Otto looked from the king to the princess and then back to the king. "Your grace...surely this is not the only punishment you would bestow?"

"What other punishment is there to give? As I said, this is hardly a serious matter," he said with a shrug. "Besides, Daella will be leaving soon on the royal progress. I will not impede or delay her travel."

"Your grace-"

"The matter is settled."

Otto bowed his head, stepping away from the king. Daella suppressed a smirk and curtsied low to her father. "Thank you, Father. I promise you that I will hone my skills within the Keep from now on, should I decide to continue in my training."

Viserys smiled at her, satisfied. Daella nodded to the queen and turned to leave. She gave Erryk an apologetic smile which he returned. He was a fine teacher, indeed. His patience with her and his dedication to training her properly marked him as a dear friend in her eyes. Daella told herself not to despair. Perhaps Ser Arryk could continue in her training...or she would simply practice what she'd already learned? Regardless, she was thankful her father saw the benefit of it.

Daella exited her father's chambers and ignored Ser Criston as she walked by him, holding her head high. She turned the corner to the stairs and nearly tripped over her feet to prevent herself from running right into Aemond. "Seven hells!" She righted herself and stepped back from him. "What?"

"I am not a coward."

Daella rolled her eyes and brushed past him. "I'm not in the mood to-"

He grabbed onto her shoulders and pinned her against the wall. Daella pushed against his chest. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"You think me blind because I've lost an eye?"

She pushed harder on his chest, not quite using her full strength. "Let go of me. Now."

He shoved her against the wall. Daella flinched at the seriousness of his grip and the look on his face. She had seen him angry, but never like this. Never towards her. "It is you who is the coward, sister. Hiding in the woods with Ser Erryk? Are you so eager to follow in our elder sister's footsteps?"

Daella pushed him off. Aemond stepped back with ease, a hint of a sneer on his face. Daella's hand itched with the urge to slap him. "Choose your next words carefully. You'll find I'm not as forgiving as our father."

"If you were truly training in the woods, then prove it," he dared. "Come with me to the yard and we'll see what he's taught you."

"No," she said firmly. "Ser Criston trained you to fight in tourneys. Ser Erryk trained me to protect myself."

Aemond smirked. "You doubt your abilities?"

"I doubt yours."

His smirk fell. He stalked towards her, closing the distance between them. Daella met his challenging gaze, unfazed by his proximity. But there was more than contempt on his face. An emotion she didn't recognize. Then it was gone and he raised his chin. "You and Rhaenyra share more similarities than I thought."

"How dare you..."

Aemond snorted and turned to leave. "Consider yourself lucky our father favors you so."

She watched him walk away, ears ringing with rage. Daella lunged after him, sliding down onto her knee. She grabbed onto his belt and hooked her right leg around his left ankle. Aemond fell forward. As he caught himself on his hands, Daella grabbed his other ankle and turned him over onto his back. She straddled his chest, pressing her knee against the base of his throat. Aemond clawed at her thigh, glaring up at her in surprise. Daella leaned down close. "Remember my mercy, brother."

She pinched his nose hard and then got up, walking over him. Aemond rubbed his face as he sat up, turning to watch as Daella marched down the stairs. Not even sparing him a second glance.

End of Chapter 12

Author's Note: Daella is 5'5"

High Valyrian Translations:

Ilībōños = son of a whore