Chapter 17
Author's Note: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, everyone! :)
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
Enjoy
Dornish Marshes, 134 AC...
Princess Daella, Prince Aemond, and the Marcher Lords brought their horses to a stop at the crest of the grassy hill. Down below, the Dornish party awaited them. The majority of them were Fowler guards, their shields bearing the bright blue hawk of the watchers of the Prince's Pass. Prince Qoren and Princess Alyssa stood out among them with their Martell orange and yellow robes. Aemond hummed, catching Daella's attention. "There's a Velaryon down there with them."
"Does this mean Lord Corlys supports Dorne over his king?" Lord Selmy asked, raising his chin.
She shielded her eyes from the sun, squinting at the silver-haired figure. "I don't think so. They're wearing Targaryen red." She thought for a moment. "It might be Princess Rhaena. She's betrothed to Prince Qoren's son."
"So Prince Daemon, then."
Aemond leaned in to whisper to Daella. "Our nephews could still be hiding beyond the hills with their dragons, waiting to ambush us."
"I said to be cautious, not apprehensive. Alyssa requested this meeting...she's not looking for a fight," she whispered back. "She knows her dragons are no match for ours."
"On that much, we agree."
"Is everything alright?" Lord Royce asked.
Daella sighed, nodding. She signaled her horse forward. Aemond and the Marcher Lords followed her down the hill. As they drew closer to the Dornish party, Daella realized it wasn't Rhaena standing beside Alyssa. It was Baela. The eldest daughter of Lady Laena stood proud in her dragon-riding clothes, her silver curls loose around her shoulders. A young woman stood to Qoren's right. Though she had her father's complexion, the girl was a mirror of Alyssa. The same face shape, the same frown, the same curls. She's too young to be Aliandra, Daella guessed. Coryanne, perhaps?
They stopped a safe distance away and dismounted. Aemond folded his hands behind his back as he walked beside Daella. Once they approached, Princess Alyssa bowed. Her mismatched eyes swept over them. "Greetings, cousins, my lords. You have my thanks for agreeing to meet with us."
"We appreciate your willingness to talk, Princess," Daella said. Her gaze shifted to Baela. "Though I am always happy to see family, I find your presence here rather concerning, cousin. Are you here to support your sister over your king?"
"On the contrary, Princess Rhaenyra sent me," Baela said. There was a hint of a smirk on her lips. "To serve as a reminder of the alliance between Dorne and the Seven Kingdoms."
"If that is indeed true then you're standing on the wrong side," Aemond said. He regarded the daughters of Daemon coolly. "One might mistake your neutrality for treason."
Baela blinked, surprised by his audacity. Alyssa studied Aemond from head to toe, pointing to him as she flicked her gaze to Daella. "Does he speak for the King?"
"No, I do," she said.
Alyssa hummed, exchanging glances with Qoren before she addressed Aemond. "Words are like arrows and clearly, you are no archer."
"What gave me away?" he asked, the corner of his mouth twitching. "The sword on my hip...or the dragon I ride?"
She tilted her head. "You're greener than the banners of your mother's House, boy. I have no doubt your sword is as new and clean as your armor."
"Would you like to be the first to stain it?"
The Princess Consort laughed, causing Aemond to flinch in surprise. The Marcher Lords exchanged confused, curious glances. Alyssa whispered something in Qoren's ear, causing him to snort. Daella shifted her weight from foot to foot, growing impatient. "I may speak on behalf of our King, but Prince Aemond is also here as a representative of the crown. We simply seek to investigate the truth of what happened and find a peaceful resolution."
"That is why I called for this meeting," Alyssa said, gesturing to the space between them.
"Yet you have also called your bannermen." Daella turned to Qoren. "Are they here to maintain peace or lay waste to the marshes...just as they did with Lord Caron's men?
He raised an eyebrow. "Is that what the old songbird has told you?"
Royce harrumphed. "My men often serve as escorts for traders traveling north. Your vile butchers killed them and the travelers they were guarding."
"It was my men that were attacked," Lord Fowler argued. "Their bodies were found not five miles from here. Discarded along the Prince's Pass like garbage. Only Stormlanders show such insidious disrespect."
"I will not stand to hear Dornish lies. My men were found on our side of the border."
Qoren gestured to the guards toward the back. "By all means...let us hear the truth directly from your men."
Three men were dragged forward. The Fowler guards shoved them unceremoniously onto their knees. The captives were covered in grime and bruises, and the unmistakable garb of Caron armor. Daella and Aemond slowly turned to look at the bewildered Lord of Nightsong. Prince Qoren pointed to the dark-haired man in the middle. "Lord Royce, this is your son, no? What was his name?"
"Ser Desmond Caron," Alyssa answered. "Quite a popular, unwelcome face in these lands."
Daella studied Royce's demeanor. He met her gaze and she could see the sincere shock and confusion in his eyes. "You were half-right, my lord," Qoren continued, "the attack did take place on your side of the border. Lord Fowler allows his soldiers to escort travelers along the pass as well. Your son ambushed them."
"How do we know this is not some trick?" Aemond asked. "The honor of House Caron is well-known. What reason would Ser Desmond have to attack Dornishmen unprovoked?"
"To cause chaos, I presume?" the Prince of Dorne suggested with a shrug.
Daella stepped close to Royce and spoke low. "If you had knowledge of this, you must tell me now."
"I swear I have none, Princess," he whispered, shaking his head. "My son is supposed to be in Storm's End serving Lord Borros."
She pursed her lips as she moved back to stand on Aemond's right. "Prince Aemond raises a fair point. And I know Ser Desmond from my time spent here in the borderlands four years ago. I find it difficult to believe an anointed knight would commit such atrocities."
"As the Princess Consort said," Lord Fowler gestured to Alyssa, "Ser Desmond is an unwelcome pest on my lands. Once my men had crossed the border, Ser Desmond descended upon them. Slaughtered them like animals and brought them back to lay their bodies out for the vultures to feast on. My nephew caught them in the act and arrested them on sight."
"I find it interesting that an anointed knight would commit such atrocities despite the peace that has stood between Dorne and the Seven Kingdoms for nearly two decades," Alyssa said. Her gaze flicked to Lord Royce. "Your son was supposed to be in Storm's End, my lord. Serving his liege lord and goodbrother. Instead, he is here causing strife and unnecessary bloodshed."
Daella lowered her gaze to Desmond. The bruises and blood could not hide the bitter guilt on his face. She studied him for several moments, the gears in her mind turning. A quiet voice whispered in the back of her mind, and she grew fearful. Someone's gone through a lot of trouble...just to spark a war.
"It would be best for you to hand Ser Desmond over to us," Aemond said. "We will question him and uncover the truth of what happened."
"No need to trouble yourselves," Qoren said, angling his sword handle forward so that he could rest his hands on it. "We already questioned him and his companions. And while you are quite renowned for your honor, Lord Royce, I'm afraid your son does not share your deposition...or your morals."
"I don't understand." Royce shook his head as he stared at his son who would not meet his gaze. "Desmond...explain yourself."
"Forgive me, Father," he said, wheezing. "I was only following orders."
Alyssa slapped her hand to his shoulder, causing the knight to wince. "Now, now, Ser Desmond. Tell your father exactly what you told us. Tell the Prince and Princess the reason why you attacked Lord Fowler's men."
He whimpered from her grip. Alyssa released him, folding her hands together. Desmond finally raised his head. "It was only meant to push the crown to act. A necessary evil in order to uncover the lies the Princess Consort has been telling for years." Alyssa audibly sighed, rolling her eyes. "Lord Borros has been hungry for war for years. An attack on his vassals would be all the provocation he would need."
"Gods be good, are you saying Lord Borros ordered you to start a war?" Lord Dondarrion asked.
Aemond grunted in disagreement. "The Lord of Storm's End is too simple-minded for such elaborate schemes. Who was it that approached you, Ser?"
"I never spoke to the true mastermind, my Prince. Only a messenger...my niece, Lady Maris."
Alyssa made a face, shaking her head. "Lady Maris has nothing to gain from this chaos, but her father does. A belligerent fool he may be, but Lord Borros has never been shy about his disapproval of our alliance."
"And he marches this way as we speak," Qoren said. He placed a hand on Alyssa's back. "It is an insult to everything my wife has worked for. Dorne has enjoyed this long peace. Our kingdoms have both prospered from it, and it pains me that my hand has been forced. When Lord Borros comes, he will find that our fury is greater than his."
The Marcher Lords exchanged worried glances. Baela paled, her voice failing her. Daella looked at Alyssa, silently pleading for her to object, but the elder Targaryen stood firm with her husband. Aemond unfolded his hands, his fingers twitching. "It would be unwise to declare war here, Prince Qoren," he said. "You have every right to defend your kingdom, but should you choose to engage Lord Borros, we will have no choice but to act."
His gaze shifted to Alyssa, the challenge evident in his eye. She stared at him with an unreadable expression as she fiddled with a ring on her left middle finger. "Tell me, young prince...does Vhagar's shoulder still shiver when she banks to the right?" Surprise flashed across Aemond's face. "I do hope you're feeding her a good amount of fish. Her eyesight isn't what it used to be."
Daella inhaled sharply. "Are you mad, cousin? This peace...our alliance was your doing. You've fought for it, sacrificed everything for it. Why would you throw it all away now?"
"I'm the one that called for this meeting. I'm the one still trying to maintain our alliance," she pointed out. "You say you speak and act on the king's authority? Well then, what are you going to do about the treachery of your own vassal? Lord Borros actions are cause enough for Dorne to go to war, but I counseled restraint out of loyalty to my House."
Aemond clicked his tongue. "As if you ever had any real loyalty to our House..."
"Kelitas," Daella whispered through gritted teeth. She took a few steps toward the rulers of Dorne. "I will not make excuses for their actions, but you must allow us to deal with Lord Borros and Ser Desmond in accordance with our laws. We do not want a war either. Send your men back home. The Marcher Lords will do the same. There's no need to escalate this any further."
"And what of my murdered men?" Lord Fowler interjected. "They had families. They deserve justice."
"In addition to Ser Desmond being appropriately punished, Lord Caron will compensate your men's families," she offered. Royce hung his head but gave no protest. "As a show of good faith, Princess Baela may accompany Prince Aemond and I as we confront Lord Borros."
Qoren shook his head. "You can wave your authority in his face all you want. Proud men like Borros do not like to be told what to do."
"If he chooses not to disobey, then he will suffer those consequences," Aemond said.
"He has shown the lengths he's willing to go to in order to achieve his goals," Alyssa pointed out, gesturing to the captives. "What makes you think he will simply abandon his pursuit of war? He could very well say the words you wish to hear and continue his march south. Lord Caron could pay damages as you said, but that will mean little once his liege lord commands him to attack."
Daella nearly threw her hands up. "What is it you want? If Lord Borros is stupid enough to engage you in battle, against our orders, obviously, we will be forced to fight with you."
"What I want...is reassurance," Qoren said. "Your word is not enough, Princess. As my wife has said, Lord Borros will not be cowed by the orders of children...regardless of the authority you wield."
"If you truly think it so pointless, why are we even here?" she asked.
"Because I want to know what lengths you will go to prevent further bloodshed. How do you intend to make a raging storm listen to reason? Taking his head may satisfy Dorne, but it could throw the entire Stormlands into chaos...which could further jeopardize the peace and by extension, our alliance."
"Lord Borros is also your goodsister's father," Alyssa added.
Daella bit her lip, sighing in frustration. She understood the deeper implications of her cousin's words. Cassandra served not only as her father's connection to the crown but also as his shield. She glanced back at Aemond, his frown telling her that he was ready for a fight. Whether it was Borros or the Dornish, it didn't matter to him. That frustrated her further. She turned away from him. Every second that passed made her heart sink further. "Is it not enough that your wife is a Targaryen? That your son will marry a Targaryen? That your daughter will be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms one day?"
"We need assurance from all sides of the family," Alyssa said, her gaze flicking to Aemond to emphasize her point.
Daella's gut twisted. I swear the Baratheons will be the downfall of House Targaryen. She summoned her resolve, forcing herself to appear calm and composed. "Very well...you want reassurance? Another layer of protection? Betroth your daughter, Princess Coryanne, to my brother...Prince Daeron."
Alyssa raised her eyebrows in surprise, letting out an incredulous chuckle. "You cannot offer your brother's hand."
"I can. It is not my authority I wave - it's the King's."
Aemond stomped up behind Daella. He grabbed her arm and pulled her to him, almost smashing his lips to her ear. "My mother will have your head if you give them Tessarion."
"My head is a small price to pay to avoid all-out war." She slipped free and faced Qoren and Alyssa. "Prince Daeron is in Oldtown serving as cupbearer to his uncle. Prince Aemond will escort our brother to Sunspear to foster until he is of age to marry your daughter. Princess Baela and I will deal with Lord Borros as I said, and when it is done, I shall return to sign the official betrothal. There. Is that enough reassurance for you?"
Qoren studied both of them for a moment, fiddling with his rings as he thought. He glanced at Alyssa, a silent conversation passing between them. Finally, he spoke. "Yes, Princess...that is enough."
Stormlands Camp...
Vhagar and Silverwing growled restlessly as they waited for their riders. The Stormlanders were packing up their tents, preparing to move out. Daella stomped away from camp toward the dragons with Aemond hot on her heels. "You had no right to sell our brother like some prized horse."
"What other choice did I have?" she argued. "We cannot go to war with Dorne. Just because we have the bigger dragons does not mean we have the better advantage."
"Why? Because our traitorous sister would choose them over us?"
Daella stopped and whirled around. "For gods' sake, Aemond. Are you so blind that you cannot see what might've happened had I not offered Daeron?"
"Are you? You played right into Prince Qoren's hand. He gets another dragon, another Targaryen, and sits safely while we go off to avenge his men."
"I know," she snapped. "Our alliance is layered with sealed betrothals and various agreements and that should've been enough, but he wanted to humiliate us. We have no control over our own vassals. We've been undermined. We are the puppets of House Baratheon. That is what everyone will be saying come tomorrow."
Aemond clicked his tongue in disappointment. "Since when are you so concerned with the opinions of others?"
"You of all people should know that perception is everything," she said. "Fear of dragons only gets us so far...and neither Dorne nor Lord Borros fear us."
"Then we will bring them fire and blood to remind them why they should."
She rolled her eyes and turned toward Silvering. "That is why it should be me dealing with Lord Borros. You'd have Vhagar roast him, consequences be damned."
"He deserves worse given his actions." He grabbed her arm again, preventing her from walking away. "It's not too late to undo this. We know Dorne is hiding dragons...that's grounds enough to void all arrangements. Lord Borros will be dealt with just as you said, but we cannot allow our cousin's crimes to go unpunished."
"That is low on our list of priorities right now. So low...that it's practically insignificant." She placed her hand over his on her arm. "Years ago, your mother attempted to betroth you to Princess Coryanne because she knew it was better to have Dorne as an ally than an enemy. But your claiming of Vhagar changed that. Daeron is the only option. She won't be happy about this, I know...but she will understand my decision."
He released her. "Too much has changed since then, Daella. You've defied her time and time again. This might be the final straw for her."
She lowered her gaze, her shoulders slumping. "There's no use arguing about it. What's done is done. All I can do now is pray that unveiling the Baratheon treachery is enough to save me from the Small Council's wrath."
"Then we will share the blame."
"No," she said, shaking her head. "You've done nothing but follow my orders. You voiced your objections, and I dismissed them. That's all the Small Council will believe anyhow."
Aemond cupped her face with his hands and kissed her. He leaned his forehead against hers. "You don't have to bear this burden alone. I will trust you if you say this is still the best course of action, but you must remember that our fates are entwined. Whatever punishment comes your way, we will accept it together."
Daella wanted to lean into his strength, wanted to believe that the Hightowers would not punish her, but she could not shake the doubt. She sighed as she grabbed his wrists, pressing a kiss to the palm of his right hand. "Retrieve Daeron from Oldtown. I'll meet you both in Sunspear in a couple of days."
Outside Bronzegate...
"Dragons approaching!"
Lord Borros stepped out of his tent. He shielded his eyes from the sun as he watched Silverwing and Moondancer land in the meadow at the edge of the Kingswood. He titled his head, curious as Princess Daella and Princess Baela dismounted their dragons and made their way through the camp. The soldiers greeted the princesses as they passed, removing their helmets and bowing respectfully. Baela acknowledged them with polite nods, but Daella ignored them. She weaved through the soldiers, her silver braids whipping behind her in the strong wind. As she neared, Borros threw his arms wide. "Welcome to the Stormlands, Princess!"
Daella crouched down and jabbed at his inner thigh. Borros yelped and bent down, reaching for his leg. Daella then slammed her fist into his face. The Baratheon soldiers flinched as their lord collapsed onto the ground. Baela ordered the confused soldiers to remain calm. Daella flexed her hand, her knuckles screaming. "Do you have any idea what you've done?!"
"You dare lay hands on me!" he bellowed.
"My hands are the least of your worries," she snapped. "Sending Ser Desmond to spark a war with the Dornish? Calling your banners? You are lucky you still have your head!"
Borros growled as he got to his feet. "How dare you! Lord Caron's men were attacked by the Dornish unprovoked. It is your bitch cousin that has declared war."
"Ser Desmond told us of your plot himself, my lord," Baela interjected. "Lord Caron and the other Marcher Lords all bore witness to his confession."
"What?!"
"You used your own daughter to relay orders to your goodbrother in order to conceal your treason," Daella said, loudly for the other storm lords to hear. "You've always resented the longstanding peace your father relished in, so you plotted to throw the kingdoms into chaos. You used Ser Desmond to start a war, knowing full well that through Cassandra's marriage to my brother, House Targaryen would have no choice but to support you. Do you deny it?"
"I deny it!" His furious glare flicked back and forth between the princesses. "I know of no plots! Lord Caron is my father by law! I seek only justice!"
"There's no use in lying, Borros. The war you're so desperate for...is already over. Lord Royce has agreed to pay damages to House Fowler. His men and the other men of the marshes are returning home as we speak. Prince Qoren has agreed to stand down as well but only on the agreement that my brother, Prince Daeron, marry his daughter, the future ruling Princess of Dorne." She raised a hand to silence him. "Send your bannermen home. Princess Baela will be taking Ser Desmond to the capital to face the king's justice. I suggest you travel there as well...before justice is brought to you."
He took two steps towards her, looming over the princess. "My daughter will be your Queen someday. She will never forgive this insult and neither will I."
"And the world will never let her forget her father's treason." She stepped back from him to address the Stormlanders. "This will be your only warning! Lay down your arms and go home! Your liege lord has committed high treason and if you remain here any longer, you will be considered complicit in his crimes and punished accordingly!"
"You cannot command my men," Borros snapped. "I am Lord Paramount of the Stormlands."
"For now," Baela said. "You'd be wise to listen to my cousin, my lord. Or else the Princess Consort of Dorne will bring you fire and blood and make Storm's End another Harrenhal."
"Is that a threat?"
"No," Daella said as Silverwing snarled. "It's a promise."
Sunspear, Dorne, two days later...
Daella waited anxiously on the steps of the entry courtyard behind the Martell family. She had shed her armor, but remained in her riding clothes despite the heat. Vhagar and Tessarion had landed near the caves half an hour ago. An envoy waited for the Targaryen princes to escort them to the palace. Daella dreaded the sight of the dragons. She had no doubt Aemond would keep to his word, but the events of the previous day weighed heavily on her mind. And her heart raced as her brothers rode through the gate. Daeron had grown quite a bit since she saw him last. His hair was cut short, curly, and combed back from his face.
Coryanne fidgeted with her dress, adjusting the beaded belt on her waist. She stood slightly behind her father with Qyle and Naethan beside her. Daella watched her younger cousins for a bit, feeling out of place among the Dornish. She scanned the entire courtyard and her gaze landed on a dark-haired beauty standing beside the maester. Her violet eyes met Daella's own. The worry on her face was evident, but Daella had warned "Sybella" ahead of time. Stay quiet. Keep your head down. And our brothers will be none the wiser.
The princes dismounted their horses. Though Daeron was only fourteen, he was nearly the same height as Aemond. His face was still round, but he carried himself with mature confidence. Daella often thought that Daeron could be Aegon's twin...had Aegon not turned to wine and other vices. As the princes approached, Prince Qoren stepped down to greet them. "Prince Aemond, Prince Daeron, welcome to Sunspear."
Aemond gave a curt nod while Daeron bowed. "Thank you, Prince Qoren. It is an honor to join our houses once again. I swear to serve your daughter and Dorne as faithfully as my cousin has served you."
"I'm sure you will," Qoren said before Daeron could continue. "But is not me you must swear to. It is your betrothed, the future Princess of Dorne."
He held his hand out and Coryanne stepped out from behind her father, placing her small hand into his palm. Coryanne curtsied. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Prince Daeron."
A soft smile appeared on Daeron's face as he took in Coryanne's beauty. He bowed to her. "The pleasure is all mine, Princess."
Qoren and Alyssa exchanged knowing glances, each recalling the first time they met. Coryanne's smile faltered slightly when she met Aemond's gaze, but she greeted him nonetheless. Alyssa stepped down to stand beside her daughter, flashing her cousins a brilliant smile. "You must be tired after your long flight across the desert. Please, come inside. Rest. And tonight, we shall feast to celebrate our new alliance."
"You honor us, Princess," Daeron said.
"And the official betrothal?" Aemond asked coarsely.
"Oh, that's been taken care of." Alyssa waved toward Daella. "It's been signed and a copy is on its way to King's Landing as we speak."
He narrowed his eye at her. "That's very presumptuous of you."
"Well, your betrothed promised that you would deliver Prince Daeron to Sunspear. I hesitate to think what might've happened had you chosen not to honor our agreement after she spoke so highly of your honor." The frown on his face made her chuckle. "You are far too young to be so serious. Come, I promise you'll have a good time."
That evening...
Aemond was not having a good time. The Dornish were too loud and lewd for his taste. He had expected a proper feast. With a head table to sit at. Instead, they were scattered about the banquet hall. Various smaller tables in random areas, fitted with foods he did not recognize. The Martells and the guests sat on the floor, surrounded by thick cushions. They ate with their hands, and used bread instead of forks to pick up their stews and meats. Their wine was good at least. Aemond settled for leaning against a pillar near the southern wall. People laughed and joked. Daeron sat beside Coryanne as she explained each dish laid out before them. Aemond bristled every time he glanced at the rulers of Dorne.
They were always touching. Alyssa would stroke his beard or comb her fingers through his hair. Qoren would pull her close or curl his hand around the back of her neck. It was unseemly. Inappropriate. Yet the blatant displays of affection bothered no one else. Aemond realized quickly that other couples were doing the same. It made him uncomfortable. His only reprieve was that Daella was equally as miserable. She hardly socialized, opting to entertain Prince Qyle and Prince Naethan. She smiled and laughed with them, but there was sadness in her eyes. And when she caught Aemond's gaze, she would quickly turn away.
A servant swept by, blocking Aemond's view and offered a fresh cup of wine. Aemond dismissed her with a halfhearted wave. He turned his gaze back to Daella, but she was gone. He scanned the banquet hall, catching a glimpse of silver hair by the exit. Aemond abandoned his cup on a random table as he hurried around the outskirts of the celebration. His eye fixed on Daella.
She vanished from his sight, and he increased his pace as he exited the banquet hall. He entered a mezzanine that looked over a small garden below. Daella had stopped a short distance away, leaning against the metal guard rail. Aemond quietly made his way over to her, keeping his footsteps as light as a cat. "Not enjoying the celebrations?"
"I'm not in the mood to celebrate my failure."
He hummed as he grabbed onto the guard rail, his hand pressing up against her arm. "And what failure is that?"
Daella inhaled sharply and stood up straight. "Forgive me...I meant that I'm too tired to celebrate."
"You've never been a good liar." He gently grabbed her chin, turning her head to face him, but Daella jerked out of his grip. "What's wrong? What's happened?"
Daella glanced up, willing herself to remain calm. She heaved a great, defeated sigh. "Lord Borros was unwilling to cooperate. I had ordered him to send his men home and report to the capital at once to answer for his crimes, but he refused. He gave me no choice but to 'escort' him myself. And as he was dragged down to the black cells...I explained everything to the Small Council."
"Let me guess...they're furious about Daeron's betrothal."
"You weren't wrong in that our fates are entwined," she said sadly. "I 'overstepped'. I 'abused the authority granted to me and handed power to Dorne whilst crippling our own'...my actions would be deemed treasonous if it weren't for the exposure of Lord Borros' conspiracy. And while they cannot publicly reprimand me...the Queen and the Small Council feel that I am untrustworthy and out of control. Therefore, our betrothal has been broken."
Aemond blinked. "What?"
"Upon our return to King's Landing," she continued, "I am to leave at once for Winterfell to marry Lord Cregan Stark. You will marry Tyshara Lannister once she arrives from Casterly Rock."
A thousand questions ran through his mind. Aemond's rage bubbled within him as he struggled to process her words. He studied her demeanor and his anger intensified. "You've accepted their decision."
"What was I supposed to do?" she demanded. "I only made things worse by arguing with your gods damned mother. She didn't bother with disinheriting me for I have nothing save for Silverwing."
He clicked his tongue, turning away to pace. "I have no doubt you made the situation worse. She has tried so many times to reconcile with you, to reason with you but you throw every attempt back in her face."
Daella tapped her fist against the metal rail, trying very hard to keep herself calm. "I am not trying to senselessly slander your mother, Aemond, but you must realize that she wholeheartedly despises me. She told me, in front of the lords of the Small Council, that all of this was my fault. The Baratheons undermining us, Helaena's death - all of our tragedies would've never fucking happened had I just done what I was told and married Aegon years ago."
"You warned me that you'd make me a widower should I take another woman to wife," he reminded. "You told me you wanted to be mine. That I was the only man you wanted. And now you surrender me that easily? Without a fight?"
"I didn't fight it...because the Queen and I both know that you won't." Aemond stopped and slowly turned to face her. "Your mother knows you well. You're a good soldier, always following her orders...you can stand there and bark all you want about fighting her decision, but the moment you return home and face her...she won't need to convince you to do anything. She will tell you to marry the Lannister girl. She will tell you that it's for the good of the realm. She will tell you that I am only a second daughter who stands to inherit nothing, who can give you nothing."
"You are not nothing, Daella," he said. "You're a Targaryen...a dragonrider and warrior. You're far more worthy than any woman alive. The only woman I want."
He walked up to her, his hands going to her upper arms. Daella pressed against his chest, keeping some distance and ducking away from his attempt to kiss her. Aemond tightened his grip. "All my life...you have been a constant. The only one who's ever truly seen me. I was made for you. We are meant to burn together."
"Yet our own family seeks to tear us apart," she lamented. "I fought my feelings for you for so long...and when I finally accept them, when I finally have you so close...the powers that be rip you away from me with a stroke of a pen."
"Then we must take matters into our own hands." He leaned back and slid his hands down her arms to grab both of hers. He rubbed his thumbs nervously against her knuckles. "Let us bind our blood, just as our great-grandparents did."
Daella searched his eye, her heart racing with hope. Her vision blurred with tears as she smiled up at him. Finally, she nodded. "Find a Septon. So that I may say my vows and become your wife."
End of Chapter 17
High Valyrian translations:
Kelitas = Stop