Chapter 1 I wonder
Chapter 1 of Dangerous Liaisons
A/N- I really hope you guys like it. I love how this turned out and have so much planner!
Warning- Spoilers, swearing, yearning!! Eye color is described as amethyst (that’s all though!) Age gap with Lyonel.
Pairing- Daeron Targaryen x Targaryen!Fem-reader, Lyonel Baratheon x Targaryen!Fem-reader
Episode- 1x01
(Let me know if you want to be tagged)
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The air is crisp. The air is invigorating with each inhale. The air is unlike anything else.
The body is perhaps not meant to breathe from so high within the clouds, but it’s different for you…you were meant to fly with the birds and dance amongst the stars. Once.
If your husband, Daeron is right, just like he was right about the two of you getting married, then one day the dragons will sing their mighty song and rule the skies again. One day.
Until then you will let your mind relish in a carefree fantasy and pretend that the breeze flowing through the long arch windows is coming from the endless sky, and that the delicate approaching footsteps are the sound of flapping dragon wings.
You will stay there until your father, Baelor’s gentle voice brings you back behind the tall arch window.
“Fantasing again are we?”
You don’t deny it. You can’t. “Mhm. I dreamt of him again. He was bigger this time, but he was no different otherwise. He was just as beautiful with his scales black as midnight that glimmer like silver stars under the moonlight.”
You sigh and gently hit the stone windowsill with your hand as you're reminded that your dream could never be anything but a stupid fantasy.
“It’s torture dreaming of something I can’t have,” you let yourself complain. “Why do we have to live punished and not have dragons? Not even small ones?”
Your father finally falls at your side and admires the calm horizon ahead of you. “Because our ancestors made a grave mistake that cost us what we worshiped, but ended up putting us on the path.”
“Well,” you scoff. “That’s truly despicable,” you grumble and bend down to prop your elbows on the stone windowsill and plop your chin on your palms.
“So,” your dad chuckles lightly. “You’d rather us not exist to have dragons instead?”
“Who says we wouldn’t exist? We exist because Dorne finally and truly decided to join the realm through marriage. Back then,” you wave your hand back. “All those years ago, Dorne hadn’t joined the rest of the realm, but they would have eventually. Sooner perhaps.”
“And you see, my daughter, that’s where our troubles commence. Any sooner and we would cease to exist,” he tries to be wise, but you’re not listening to reason. You’re not in the mood to think of it logically.
“But we would have dragons,” you insist. “We don’t though and all because they couldn’t fathom letting a woman rule.”
“Well, amongst the many other problems, yes, that is true,” he finally sides with you, letting you turn your head to glance at him before you stand up straight and turn to face him with a faint smile that lights up his kind mismatched eyes.
“Tired?” You ask as you remember his very taxing day.
“Not quite,” he says what you assumed he would say and what he has always said since you’ve learned to ask that question or anything similar.
Truly exhausting days are when you’re fighting for your life in a war, he says. Days doing my duty as Hand are taxing, but nothing short of enlightening, he says. It’s a bunch of bullshit, but he’s never been one to let you see his weakness.
He is like every other man though, you know that and have never respected him any less because of it. In fact, him showing how to hold his head high despite all the troubles being heir and Hand of the King brings is a quality you admire.
“Walk with me?” He asks and offers his arm.
You know that there isn’t always a reason to take a stroll. You enjoy your leisurely strolls together, but this time you see that he’s hiding a reason behind his invitation.
“Of course,” you accept and hook your arm around his to let him lead the way down the bright hall.
“As you may already know, I am to attend the tourney at Ashford,” he starts out, piquing your curiosity
“Yes,” you say lightheartedly and grow far more curious as to where this is going. “Grandfather asked if you could go in his stead.”
He scoffs. “He asked out of courtesy, but I was already planning to go because it is my duty…do you know why?”
You draw in a deep breath and with an amused smile you give his question some thought, earning his prolonged stare as he watches with admiration as your fierce amethyst eyes burn even more radiant as the wheels turn behind them.
“Lord Ashford may be a lesser lord, but even so it’s just as important that we show that we care about all our lords and ladies. Small or big,” you start to explain your thoughts out loud as you make sense of them. “It strengthens their respect and loyalty to the crown. And it shows our strength. That we are a united realm. After such a bloody war, it offers the people a sense of reassurance and hope,” you muse with such a fierce passion that he can’t help but be enveloped in it.
“Lastly, it shows that we can all sit around the same table. In a sense of course. We can all have fun together.”
Your father hums, causing you to realize what you just said and making you look at him with your breath caught in your throat as you wait to hear or see what he thinks.
He’s good at masking his face though so he makes it hard for you to read him. Thus, you’re left on the edge.
“Why me though?” He piles on another question, making you draw in a long breath and think for a second before you respond. “Why not the king as well or any of his other sons who are also princes?”
“The King is the King. He could send any of his other sons, but you are the King’s Hand and heir. Who better than you? A man who holds just as much respect.”
Your father points his chin to the air and nods slowly, turning your stomach in knots and making your heart race.
“Very well said,” he finally says, letting your heart and your breath calm while your stomach slowly unravels. “Spoken like an heir.”
Oh no. It’s all in shambles again.
“Father?” You question because maybe you didn’t hear him right.
“I have not misspoken,” he asserts himself as he comes to a stop just under the great Iron Throne. You hadn’t even realized he had brought you to the Great Hall until you came to a stop and the Iron Throne cast a large shadow over the both of you.
“You are my firstborn child—”
“But a woman,” you cut him off uncertainly. “And Valarr...”
“Had your grandmother not been Queen she would have ruled as princess in Dorne like many of the other women that came before her,” your father quickly explains. “If that’s what she would have wanted of course.”
You look at the Iron Throne basked in glorious sunlight and think of all the Kings that have sat there and ruled before your time. You then try to think of Queens, but you only come up with three if you count Princess Rhaenyra’s short and unofficial reign.
There is a reason why there haven’t been many Queens…because the people don’t like the idea of being ruled by one so what would make you so different?
“But the realm will never accept me,” you say quietly as you look back at your father.
He holds your gaze and draws out a deep breath before he raises his hands off his sides to grab your hands with an assuring look that lets you find your breath.
“I know it’s unfair for me to say this,” he speaks softly, making your racing heart ease. “But that’s why you will have to make them accept you. Earn their respect. Their admiration. Make them want no one else but you after me.”
You sigh deeply and tighten your hold around his hands to seek more comfort in this storm of confusion and perplexity. “But why?” You ask meekly.
“You have potential. I see it in you every day,” he responds without hesitation. “And…you are everything our house needs now that we don’t have the strength of our dragons. That’s important to note now. You know that just as much as I do.”
You swallow thickly and shake your head. “And…and if I don’t want to? What if I am content as I am now? What if I am content being passed over?”
He chuckles breathlessly and gives your hands a gentle squeeze. “What great ruler ever wants to wear the crown? But.” He pauses and smiles softly with admiration. “If that’s what you wish then that’s fine too.”
You scoff. “Will it?”
He lets one of your hands go to stroke your cheek. “Yes, because you will still be everything to me. Nothing will change that.”
You smile through the lump that forms in your throat and your watery eyes.
“It will be your decision,” he adds. “Hopefully not until a long time from now, but if you choose that it’s your calling…the offer will be yours to take.”
You nod. “Okay,” you answer shakily before you can’t help but throw your arms around him and embrace him.
Nothing is said between the two of you. You just relish in the comforting silence and the bliss for a moment until you pull away and take him by the arm to walk side by side.
“Will you be competing in the tourney?” You ask even if you know the answer to the question.
“No,” he states, but you still press on to get across what you have to say.
“No? Is it because you’re getting old? They’d have to call you, Baelor Rustedspear.”
Your father chuckles and you can’t help but smile giddily at the rich sound of it.
——
*SOMETIME LATER. ASHFORD MEADOW*
How incredulous…
And ever so marvelous…
There could probably be nothing more terrifying to a small creature with the heart the size of your thumb than a towering stag with large pointed antlers, but the brown little bird stays propped peacefully on the stag's antlers basking in the soft sunlight that shines through the tree tops.
There’s no mistaking the gentle giant for a tree branch either. Not for a wary bird so dangerously close to the ground. The stag chews loudly on its afternoon lunch, he breathes in and out loudly through his nose, and flicks his ears every now and then. Any little creature would know what it is and scurry the other way, but the little bird doesn’t seem to care. It cares only for its peace, and the sun, and that’s good because it allows you to sketch their portrait.
How could anyone pass such a stupendous sight and not want to mark it down so the moment could live forever, even past human memory?
Nevertheless, as always, peace is ruined by something you don’t catch, but both creatures do.
As the brown little bird takes no risks and flies off, the stag points his ears up to the tree tops and then quickly points them towards you. Only it’s not you that it finally noticed. That would’ve happened long ago when you first found it and hid behind the thinning shrubbery.
It hears something else. Someone? Not so far away lies Ashford Keep and currently it’s buzzing with many people. It wouldn’t be odd for some of them to wander into the woods. It’s actually expected of them before all the games commence, so if it’s someone are they dangerous?
Should that even be a question you should ask yourself without guards nearby to come to your rescue?
They make far too much noise in their shiny armor so you ordered them to wait past the woods and to only come search for you once the sun starts going down. Right at this instant the sun is high in the sky, not even close to going down, so maybe you should be like the bird and take no risks.
Or should you be cautious like the stag who stands so incredibly still to listen and watch.
No…maybe. What if it’s nothing? Creatures are spooked easily.
But wouldn’t the stag continue eating if it was nothing? It stays still and twitches his nose to smell the air, but doesn’t give anything away.
If only it could speak and say what it smells and hears, but it doesn’t so after two heartbeats you secure your sketch book under your arm, pull out a hidden dagger, and scare the stag off by cutting through the shrubbery you were hidden behind to stalk through the close knitted woods until you spot a flash of black moving to where you had been watching the stag and the bird, letting you know that it’s something intelligent pursuing the stag…or you?
If they caught you hidden amongst the shrubbery they would’ve seen you sneak away, so you keep moving slowly, making sure to avoid any dry leaves or branch littered on the forest ground so as not to be caught as you make your way around them.
You should just take this chance to book it out of the woods, but you’re far too curious as to what it is that had alerted the stag and scared off the bird, so you manage to find a way around them without being caught and discover that it’s a man.
Not just any man, he’s tall and lean. He’s not too muscular, but not thin either. You can see the curves of his shoulder muscles under his black and expensive leather, something that tells you he’s high-born or a well-off knight.
He’s older too. Older than you anyway. You can see his black curls that stop on his neck peppered with white hairs.
Perhaps if you could see his face you would know who it is, but his back is to you. Or at least it was until he suddenly spins around, causing your breath to catch, and causing your heart to jump when his dark eyes immediately find you as if he had been called.
There’s no mistaking it either. He’s found you hidden in between the trees and stands up straighter before he tilts his head, letting you see him clearly, not just a part of him, and right away, you put a name to his…face. You’ve made it your job to know all the great lords after all; he’s Lord Lyonel Baratheon. The Laughing Storm. Heir to Storm’s End.
You should be safe with him alone…
If he’s as good as they say he is…
“My Lord,” you greet with your nose pointed to the air, making sure not to show any fear or suspicion.
“Princess,” he surprises you by saying before the corner of his lips start to pull into an amused smile. “Are you alone?” He asks.
“No. My guards are near,” you remain guarded so as to not give anything away, but either way he glances around before he relaxes his arms and puts his hunting bow down.
“Forgive me for saying this, but you are a liar. Guards are easy to spot in their shiny armor. It’s why we don’t wear any whilst hunting. Besides, they would have already shown themselves the moment I walked out of hiding, but,” he scoffs and puts his arms out. “It seems it is just you and I here.”
You swallow thickly and never once falter. You keep your head up and your eyes fixated on him.
“And it is because we are alone that I will tell you that you have no need to fear me. I won’t harm you.”
“Forgive me for saying that, but I cannot take your word. I do not know you or your intentions. No matter how great a lord you are. My Lord.” You bow your head, making him chuckle before he takes a step closer to you. Just one.
“You’d be wise then, but I am true to my word. I will not harm you. If you wish to leave then do so. I won’t stop you but I will have to escort you. Even if you don’t see me. I don’t wish to be scorned by your father or your grandfather.”
“You’d be wise then.”
That earns another charming smile that makes your muscles relax before you put away your dagger and slowly walk out and join him in the middle of the woods, making his smile deepen and his dark eyes glimmer with that charming smile.
“May I ask how you were quick to recognize me, my Lord?”
His thick dark eyebrows pinch together, and wrinkles draw around his eyes as he squints before his face brightens with smugness. “Well, how could I ever forget you? The Beloved of the crown and the realm. And your eyes? They are remarkable. Truly one of a kind, like the rare and extraordinary glimmering amethyst crystals that people only wish to possess.”
You blink with surprise and can’t help the corner of your lips from twitching upwards.
“How were you so quick to recognize me?” He then redirects, making you shrug.
“I have made it my job to remember every great lord. Besides, I remember you from my wedding,” you point outand meet his gaze, noticing how deep they are. You get caught up in them quickly as if they were a raging storm and you were a sailor on raging waters.
“You outdrank my husband and every other drinking man that celebrated with us. Almost as if you had made it your job.”
“Or they were lesser men who cannot withstand a couple of drinks,” he retorts, making you giggle.
“I wouldn’t say you drank a couple of drinks. I’m sure you drank through almost half of the stock we had for the wedding. And well, all anyone could talk about was how incredibly impressed they were by your tolerance.”
“It seems you were to,” he remarks smugly, making your eyes flicker to the ground, and making a smile flicker on your features.
“Or did you make it your job to know?” He teases as he leans in close, drawing your eyes back to him and finally notice how handsome he is.
You never noticed that before. You were too smitten with Daeron to notice then, but now. Now that he’s standing before you, you note Lord Lyonel's strong jaw and his smooth tan skin. The pointed peppered beard he wears adds to his charm while also making him look rugged. And that is only more true with the gold dangling earring he wears on one ear.
It’s almost like he’s a legendary and handsome pirate come to life. Except he is more refined than a pirate. Wilder, and far more enchanting too.
Or is that just because of his eyes? They’re a lighter brown up close, but still harbor a storm that you’re not intimidated by. You should be. Anyone else would be, but you're anchored and easily enticed.
Which is…silly…you’re married…
But…ever so alone without Daeron and with him also being in another one of those states where he distances himself from you and is nothing but mean.
That’s all it is though, loneliness that has your heart swooning like a naive young girl swooning over knights from old stories.
“Well,” you respond with an innocent smile. “It was my wedding so how could I not notice?”
He hums and shakes his finger at you before he looks around as if in search of something. When he doesn’t find anything he faces you again with curiosity in his bright eyes. “What is it that you are doing out here? All alone.”
“Alone?” You query. “I was not alone at least not until you scared off who I was with.”
Lord Lyonel scoffs with amusement before he counters. “That was no friend. That was today’s game.”
“Was until you scared him off,” you make it clear, earning an amused look before he finds your book under your arm and probes further.
“If you were not hunting then what were you doing? Frolicking? Do you frolick princess?”
You giggle and shake your head before you show him what he was curious about. “I was out here drawing. You scared away my model.”
He hums before he points at the leatherbound book. “May I?” He asks and without asking for clarification you hum in agreement and pass him the book.
Lord Lyonel then, without invitation or a care in the world, surprises you by plopping himself on the ground to open the book, coming across a clear and precise drawing of a bright red dragonfly standing on a thin branch.
Under the drawing, it’s labeled with the type of dragonfly and notes you had jotted down.
The dragonfly doesn’t catch his interest though, so he continues to flip through the pages while you sit on your knees beside him, letting your dark purple gown spread over the ground.
“These are very good,” Lord Lyonel notes as he also sees drawings of Daeron, your brothers Valarr and Matarys, your father, your cousins, and anyone else you had drawn in the book he’s flipping through. There’s many more back in the Red Keep, filled with so many of the same and yet different things.
“You truly have a talent.”
“You don’t have to flatter me, my Lord. You may speak freely,” you remark as you watch him flip through all your drawings without ever thinking twice about them. He’s carefree without a doubt. Maybe it’s because you are who you are, because it’s simply his nature, or it’s felt like you’ve known each other far longer than just mere minutes. Whichever it is, you enjoy it and mirror him because he makes it easy to.
“No, no.” He shakes his head. “I am speaking truthfully. These are remarkable. I do notice that besides dragons there’s a lot of…critters…and creatures, and nature and whatnot.”
You giggle and lean closer to him to flip a page for him and show him one of your favorites you have only recently drawn.
“Well, what can I say? They are beautiful muses and those critters and creatures are far easier to draw than people. If you know how to move with them that is,” you muse happily as he’s speaking on your interest. “They are sensitive, but it all comes from here,” you hover your hand over his chest before you flip another page to show him a wide-eyed owl.
“And the fact that you may smell like Lilly’s of the Valley?” He notes as he keeps his eyes on your delighted face. “You’re masked well. Any hunter would wish to have their scent masked as naturally as yours.”
You glance at him with a bright smile before you reveal your secret. “It’s on purpose so they aren’t easily spooked. I don’t wish to smell like dirt just to be close to them, so I choose floral and other naturally sweet scents. It doesn’t always work, but it helps.”
You look back at your sketchbook and he does the same to turn a page and grin brightly right away at the drawing of a great stag.
“Ah-ha!” He exclaims. “I should be honored. A second stag in your book of beautiful paintings. Are you fond of them too?”
You meet his gaze and sit back before you look at him teasingly. “Honored, but my lord I’ve never drawn a laughing stag. That’s what you are, no?”
His face falls and your lips only tremble as you stifle your laugh and smile at him tauntingly.
After a moment of seriousness, he breaks. At first, his lips slowly curl into a smirk before he chuckles and returns to look through the book. “Nor should you ever draw a laughing stag. That would be a mad sight.”
“Oh, I agree.”
Lord Lyonel comes across the drawing you were just sketching and then flips over to an empty page and grins before he puts his hand out and points at your pencils. “Give me one here,” he beckons and with amusement and curiosity you hand him one and watch him shift away so he can face you and start drawing quickly and with a heavy hand that would most likely mark the other page as well, but alas, you don’t say anything. You just watch him and notice his eyes dart up to you once and twice before he focuses solely on what he’s doing to finish quickly.
Once he’s done he turns the book around and shows off a drawing of two…lumps with dark circles in them.
“Oh,” you frame the word as you bat your lashes and draw in a breath between your teeth as you purse your lips together.
“My Lord that,” you mutter and sigh. “Well.” You tilt your head to take a better look at the drawing. “I have to say it’s not that appropriate.”
“What?” He gasps and leans forward to hold the book beside your face. “They’re your eyes. Is it not obvious?”
You meet his gaze and then snort before you break into a laugh. “Oh my lord,” you say between laughs. “I thought it was, well it’s not important.” You giggle and take the book and the pencil. “Let me sketch something now.”
“Well, it won’t be fair will it? You have the talent.”
You flick your wrist and do as you said. You make a quick sketch before you turn it around to show him with a bright smile that comes easily. “Look,” you point out. “A laughing stag.”
Lord Lyonel grabs the book and brings it close to study it for a moment before he meets your gaze and says lightheartedly, “see, absolutely absurd.”
You giggle and turn the book back at you. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re the Laughing Storm then.” You flash him a smile before you turn the page back to your unfinished drawing.
In the silence, he watches you study and thinks about the strange yet amusing way you found each other before he falls back to thinking about the moment you just had. An easy moment that didn’t make you feel like strangers talking to each other.
It was easy to laugh with you, and perhaps the same could be said for anyone else. He’s not a serious and intimidating lord. He likes to have a good laugh. But maybe it was also because you share your father's charisma that made this moment flow so naturally. He doesn’t know truly, but he knows he wants more of this moment. More of you.
“I’ll be holding court later in my tent,” Lord Lyonel takes your attention. “Come. We will have some gay fun. Good food and strong drinks. I remember you also enjoyed a good festivity.”
You hold your book to your chest and lift a brow. “On one condition. You promise that there’ll be dancing.”
He gasps and touches his chest. “You wound me by thinking there won’t be any. It’s a fucking requirement.”
You smile at him and then offer him your response. “I will try to make it. My husband is not here so I do not know if I should wander in a campground at night all alone.”
He scoffs. “No one would dare harm you. No one with sense. Not unless they want to see the wrath of many a dragon,” he whispers with a soft intensity that makes a chill run down your spine before you smile at the ground for a moment before your eyes flicker back to him.
“I will try. Thank you, my Lord.”
Said man then gets up and offers you his hand. “Come on then, I will escort you out. I was serious about not wanting to be scorned.”
You keep your hands around your book and turn him down. More so demand him so he’ll listen. “I will remain here. You may go. I command it. I will leave shortly.”
“Command?” He asks with a faint smirk.
You nod and narrow your gaze to an intense look so he knows you mean what you say and you’re not to be questioned.
“Good day, My Lord,” you bid him sweetly before you bring your book down and continue to sketch your drawing.
“Princess.” He bows and having to listen to your command, he turns and walks away, but not without looking back and meeting your gaze as you look over at him too.
When your eyes lock you heart skips a beat and you end up quickly looking back at your drawing without making it a big deal. It’s only once you don’t hear him anymore that you look back at the now empty space where he had once stood and draw out a deep breath whilst you can’t help but smile giddily.
Which is truly a travesty. Maybe even more than your dad wanting you to be his heir because Lord Lyonel is twice your age. Maybe more? It doesn’t matter because he’s also married and you’re married too and…perhaps it would be better to think about what your dad has to offer you. Heir, and Queen one day if that’s what you want…
It’s…something almost unfathomable. You know your place after all. Many women from your family have been passed over in favor of their brothers and you have two, so it’s never something that you desired. It’s something you never even thought of and can’t stop thinking about ever since your father brought it up.
Your response should be easy; no, but he said he saw potential. Potential in you. Who would you be if you wasted it right before the very eyes that see it so clearly in you?
But how can you accept? It’s such a heavy burden. A burden no one should want. A burden that you don’t know if you want.
A major part of you doesn’t want to consider it anymore, and your father said that if your response was no, then it wouldn’t matter, but what if it is your calling?
How…does one even know if it is?
It’s all so taxing and you should throw that at your father because he’s the one who has your mind all jumbled up now.
Albeit he’d only say that it’s good that you’re having so much trouble thinking if it’s what you want, so it wouldn’t work in your favor if he doesn’t feel bad for causing you such stress.
Thus, you just let it all build up in your mind as you eventually leave your spot in the meadow and trudge back to the Keep before the sun goes down and sends your guards after you.
On your way back however, as you approach a nearby river that’s close to the keep, you hear the sound of horses nickering in the distance before you catch a long slippery snake painted black with white stripes slithering towards that noise.
As always, you don’t fear the innocent creature. There’s far more terrifying things out there than defenseless creatures, so you approach it with a fascinated smile and gently pick it up with the lightest touch.
“Come on you,” you muse as it slithers over your arm as it tries to investigate what had picked it up. “You’re going towards danger.”
The snake keeps investigating and tries to slither up your arm, but you keep it down in your hands and then raise it slightly, catching your reflection in its tiny black eyes as you note that with the way it’s painted, it’s non-venomous, so you take it with you towards the hedge that the horses stand behind.
“Queen, can you believe it?” You speak your thoughts out loud to the painted snake since there’s no one else with you and you haven’t told anyone else. “My father wants to make me Queen.”
The snake wraps itself around your wrist, making you grin at it with awe as you mindlessly pass the hedge and fail to see the giant man bathing in the river until he makes himself known by gasping loudly.
“Oh!”
Your eyes fly up, but when you see that the incredibly tall man is nude, you snap your eyes up to look at his face dripping with river water since well, there’s so much of him that you can avoid seeing his manhood by simply shifting your eyes higher up. Even though, you’re tempted to look back down and remark on how…well it wouldn’t be proper to remark on such a thing.
Instead, you shift your focus to how impressively giant he is. You’ve seen men as tall as him and some even taller than him, but even so, you can’t help but be surprised by the size of him. Moreover, his toned muscles add to his size.
However, the way he fumbles with his words makes him look less intimidating.
“Please forgive me, my…uh, my Lady, I did not know there would be people in these parts of the woods!”
The water splashes around his feet as he starts moving, so you quickly shake your head to assure him. “Do not trouble yourself…” you pause and peek around you, noticing nothing more than his roughspun clothes laid out to keep dry while he’s bathing. There’s no tent or more men either. Just him, three horses, a long sword, and an old wooden shield resting against a green tree, telling you that he’s probably nothing more than a hedge knight with big dreams at the tourney.
“…Ser. I was just passing by. Please stay where you are. I am leaving.”
“It does not matter. I am still very sorry!” He stammers and bows his head. “You have caught me indecent. I did not—”
“Stop,” you cut him off before he could keep rambling his apologies. “I am averting my eyes. You are a very,” you chuckle breathlessly. “Giant man, so trust that I did not see anything.”
It’s a lie. You caught a glimpse, but you won’t tell the big blushing man that.
“And I will continue down my path before I can. Be as you were, ser. Good day to you,” you wave him off and shift around to stride away.
Albeit before you can put the giant man and the river behind you, you turn to meet his ashamed face to add one more thing. “Oh, and I should tell you. Warn you I should say, there are snakes around here. I just saved one from being trampled by your horses,” you share and lift your hand to show off the snake wrapped around your wrist to the man with incredibly bright blue eyes.
“Oh? Okay. Thank you…” he trails off awkwardly and you meet his gaze again and offer him a sweet smile.
“I will see you around, Ser. Good day now. Enjoy your bath.”
You then finally stride away without adding anything else, leaving the man to his bath in the river and taking the docile snake with you until you reach the end of the woods where your guards are relieved to see that you haven’t been lost, saving them a search in the woods and an explanation to the King's heir.
——
*LATER*
After much back and forth and once the guards think you’re in bed and won’t notice you’re gone, you find yourself before the very lively tent of Lord Lyonel Baratheon.
The plan was to stay in the keep. It would save poor Lord Ashford a headache since he’s been tormenting himself over you ever since you arrived at Ashford with only a couple of guards and no husband, but after much consideration, you figured that what he doesn’t know won’t kill him now will it?
Thus, you walk into the loud tent and immediately get greeted by warm candlelight throughout the tent, the smell of sweat and ale, and the sight of a crowd of people swarming a dancer in the middle of the circle. Or at least you think that's what they're watching, there’s too many bodies blocking what’s going on, so you can’t be positive, but from the sound of clapping hands and shouting, Lord Lyonel was true to his word. There is dancing.
That’s why no one cares about you when you walk inside, but you prefer that way. The music would stop, all the shouting and excitement would stop, leaving the tent deafeningly quiet while all eyes fell on you.
And it’s not that you don’t like it. You’re a princess of the realm, you’ve been accustomed to being gawked at the moment you were conscious of all the stares. Right now though, all you want is to have fun. You want to be like one of them in a sense so having the fortune of not going noticed yet, you take a cup of ale and stick to the side, avoiding joining the big crowd just yet, and avoiding walking too close to the main table because you can see the great host there looking grand and spectacular.
Lord Lyonel is easy to spot after all since he's surrounded by his people and wearing an impressive antler helm he must have had made from a great stag.
Honestly, he looks like a painted portrait. The warm candlelight sitting around him only makes that more true and makes him that much more enticing. If you could, you would paint him as he is right now, but all you can do is memorize the tantalizing scene and watch him, noting that he looks quite bored sitting there so you wonder why he hasn't joined the fun just yet. Is he not drunk enough? Is he waiting for someone? Is the crowd not too aroused just yet?
You want to know but don’t want to take the steps to do so, so you watch and wonder.
You wonder what he’d say if he saw that you were here.
You wonder if you could make him laugh again. It was easy to do so before, but then again you were alone then, away from the prying eyes. You’re surrounded by people this time.
Either way, you also wonder if his touch is as warm as he looks. If his lips taste like the wine or ale he’s drinking and if they’re as soft as they look.
Does he smell like that musky earthy scent that clung to him before?
Does his heart race like yours as all you can do is be captivated by him?
Perhaps not…
No, not at all.
How stupid. Foolish.
You are married. He is. You are! And Daeron…told you to leave him alone the last time you spoke. He was mean…
But should you punish him too hard for the way he acted the last time you saw him considering you know that his dreams torment him because they’re never clear and such a burden?
Perhaps you were the mean one for leaving him behind and not trying harder to understand why he went into another drinking binge.
But…
But…
You groan and chug the rest of the ale to clear your mind from all your thoughts, and focus back on the fun when you get your cup refilled.
Nevertheless, as you turn back around to watch the crowd, you spot none other than the incredibly tall man from the river. Albeit he looks even more impressively giant now that you’re closer. Gods.
Now that he’s here nevertheless, you can’t just go on and not address what happened. He looked like he was being tortured. Poor creature.
“Ser!” You call out loudly so you can be heard over the music and clamoring as you approach him, catching his attention right away and making him grow stiff.
“My Lady,” he greets you as he covers his mouth to swallow his food. “Apologies.”
You shake your head to reassure him and then get right to the matter. “I’m glad I found you. I just wanted to apologize for earlier. I really did not mean to intrude.”
“Oh!” He exclaims without seeming to notice that his voice carries louder than he expected. “Well…I am actually also sorry.”
You giggle and he blinks with surprise as if he’s surprised that he was able to get that reaction from you.
It’s truly endearing.
“Well, then let’s just forget about the entire matter or else we’ll spend the entire night just apologizing to each other,” you offer and he immediately looks relieved to hear that.
“Yes! Good.” He nods and seems to finally meet your gaze because he looks taken back by you as he holds your gaze.
However, besides dropping his jaw, he doesn’t react any other way. It's almost as if he doesn’t recognize you which is quite fascinating since you’re renowned for the deep and rare color of your eyes just like Valarr is renowned for his single strand of silver hair and mismatched eyes like your father. Yet, this man doesn’t realize. He doesn’t sputter or grow even taller and stiffer. He doesn’t bow, avoid his eyes, or grow perfectly cordial either. He remains awkward and it’s just another endearing thing about him.
“What's your name, Ser?”
“It’s, uh, Dunk—Ser Dunk.”
As he says his name you finally catch the attention of the great man sitting nonchalantly at his table and watch surprise pass through him before he seems to grow more alive; his eyes brighten and the corner of his lips tug upward faintly as he sits up slowly.
You pass him a warm smile before you look back at the man you’re talking to for a second before you’re looking at the floor and smiling giddily at the thought of Lord Lyonel and his reaction.
When the moment passes you drift all your focus back to the man you’re talking to and immediately remark on him. “You’re a green boy indeed. Is Dunk short for Duncan?”
He swallows thickly and nods. “Yes, it is.”
“Great, I like that. Ser Duncan, it’s a pleasure meeting you.”
“Likewise…” he trails off and silently asks for your name, so all you give him is your first name. You almost spill out your title but you hold back on it because it’s quite amusing that he doesn’t recognize you.
“Enjoying the festivity, Ser?” You probe as you turn to watch the crowd and drink a sip of your ale.
“Well, I am enjoying the food and drinks more,” he admits, making you smile before you question his comment.
“Is this not to your liking?”
“Well,” he says as he shrugs. “It’s not that. I just don’t know anyone.”
“And you don’t need to,” you assure him as you glance at him, catching Lord Lyonel’s distant glance and holding it for a second before you look away.
“Just have some fun. You probably won’t see these people tomorrow either way. This is what tourneys are for. Fun.”
“Well that’s certainly a part of it,” Ser Duncan says.
“Will I be seeing you participating in any of the games, Ser?” You inquire. “Perhaps I could cheer for you.”
Ser Duncan glances at you with some surprise before he responds. “Uh, well that’s what I am trying to work on. I need a Lord or a knight to vouch for me. I’ve been trying to talk to Lord Dondarrion, but I haven’t been able to meet with him.”
Lord Dondarrion. Pft.
“Well, if you stick around you will probably run into him here. If not he will probably be drinking with another great lord.”
“I’ve been told he wakes up late,” he shares. “So perhaps I will have luck here.”
You scoff. “Well, good luck to you, Ser. I mean it.”
“Thank you.”
He has no idea how much he’ll need it. Bless his heart.
Regardless you watch the clamoring crowd for a second before you slowly steal a glance at Lord Lyonel. This time he’s not looking over at you, so you let your eyes linger on the side of his face as he sits there nonchalantly.
It’s so perfectly carved. His jaw is perfectly defined and his nose is straight and perfect.
“Pardon, my Lady,” Ser Duncan steals your attention. “I am being summoned.”
You follow his gaze to the main table and huff softly before you take a drink of your ale and watch him go from the corner of your eye.
When he’s halfway there and you’ve finished your drink, you put the cup down and glance at the table again, noticing Lord Lyonel’s gaze and making sure to keep it on you as you slowly walk past bodies of people before you lose yourself in the crowd.
You’re almost tempted to weave through the crowd of people to make it to the other side and be in direct sight of the great lord, but you notice that Ser Duncan is with him so you don’t bother. Instead, you finally match the high energy of the festivity.
Your once-empty cup is filled with ale some man was carrying in a flagon, and a permanent smile decorates your features. With one hand occupied with your cup of ale however, you can’t clap along, but you do cheer and exclaim excitedly for the various dancers that dance in the middle of the circle or on the table.
It’s easy then to forget whose tent you’re in. It’s easy to forget that you are meant to be an example for the realm. You are meant to uphold yourself a certain way especially if you do want to be your father's heir, but how great is it to have fun without having to hold those expectations and without caring what people think? Is it so bad to be drunk off the ecstasy that fills the tent like everyone else? Just for tonight.
Daeron is not here in need of being taken care of after he’s had too much to drink. There’s no limitations to how much you should have. No judgmental eyes. It’s just you, them, and…him.
“I was promised a dance.” You hear his smooth voice by you unexpectedly.
“No.” You chuckle. “I said I would come as long as you assured me that there would be dancing,” you remind him, making him scoff.
“Same thing! Dance with me!” He cries excitedly before he spins around swiftly and climbs on the table beside him. “Dance with me,” he says again and crouches to offer you his hand. “How can you say you had fun if you don’t dance?”
“By being a part of the crowd.”
He flicks his wrist and blows out a huff of air. “Pft! Boring. Are you boring?” He asks cockily, making you pout as you look at him in annoyance before you take his hand to let him swiftly pull you on top of the table.
Once you’re standing on top he takes your hands in the attempts to lead you, but you pull your hands away to lift up the skirt of your gown and follow the beat of the music that’s playing by showing off a couple steps of a jig dance you learned a while ago, making the once preoccupied crowd turn their focus on you while Lord Lyonel swipes his tongue over his teeth before he shows off a couple steps of his own.
You beam at him before you follow by showing off a couple more quick steps that make him let out a booming laugh. The rest of the crowd claps and hollers before they continue doing their own thing, letting Lord Lyonel then take your hand, and making you take his other one before you cross them over the other and start spinning around with grins on your faces and deep hearty laughs escaping past your lips.
Nothing matters then. You’re too high off the ecstasy, starting to get tipsy with the drinks you quickly swallow down, and drunk off him; how carefree he is. How incredibly fun he is, and how beautifully dazzling he is.
There does come a point in the night where you do grow concerned because Lord Lyonel comes face to face with Ser Duncan and seems to be challenging him or getting him to dance. You don’t know, but you watch him suddenly step on Ser Duncan and wait.
When Ser Duncan doesn’t react the way he wants he throws his foot again and again, but Ser Duncan is quicker time and time again. After they go about the floor, Ser Duncan finally seems to gain courage and throws his foot forward, managing to step on Lord Lyonel.
Yet as the tent erupts in cheer, you bring your cup to your lips and meet Ser Duncan’s wide-eyed and panicked face as Lord Lyonel bends over with pain.
You have no words of comfort because you don’t know how it will turn out, but then as Lord Lyonel faces the big knight, the big knight offers instant relief as he begins laughing before he pushes Lord Lyonel back as he starts to laugh too.
After, with much higher spirits, Ser Duncan and Lord Lyonel start to dance around each other. They spin. Lord Lyonel throws his arms out like a bird throwing out its wings as he spins around, and you continue dancing, with him, with Ser Duncan on occasion, and others who would pull you to dance.
Your heart is just close to bursting for the rest of the night. You can’t remember when was the last time you had fun like the fun you were having in that tent. You don’t remember when was the last time someone ever paid you so much attention or made you feel so many burning and thrilling sensations, but it is addicting. You want more of it. You want so much more, but you know your limits as well, so after a while, when Lord Lyonel is off getting more to drink you sneak off into the night, but don’t walk back to the keep.
You take a seat under a tree in the shadows and try to cool down. You need to keep him off your mind. You need to leave the perimeters of the tent grounds and no longer think of him or the way he makes you feel, so you take time to take deep breaths and let the brisk night air embrace you so your body can cool down.
It’s hard to do though. Five deep breaths turn to twenty and the cold air doesn’t do shit.
If only Daeron had been here. You wouldn’t have come out. You would have stayed in your chambers while he was probably out, or you would have been with him watching over him and making sure he doesn’t end up in some ditch, but he’s not with you. You were left to your own devices and you can’t breathe because you can’t stop thinking about the dazzling man that Lord Lyonel is.
“Lord Manfred Dondarrion.”
You raise your head at the sound of that name and see Ser Duncan talking to Lord Manfred on the pathway.
“I wish to speak with you about Ser Arlan of Pennytree. He served your Lord Father to hunt the Vulture King in the Red Mountains.”
That’s rather to the point, but Lord Manfred is paying attention even with two…brothel workers clinging to him.
“I was only a boy, but—”
Paying no mind to the fact that Ser Duncan is speaking, that tall brunette woman clinging to Lord Manfred cuts him off. “I thought you said you were a Dornishman.”
Lord Manfred doesn’t respond, he just goes in to kiss her while the shorter woman with red hair interjects. “No, he said he’s hung like a Dornishman.”
“No, I said I’ve hung Dornishman,” Lord Manfred finally interjects before he kisses the redhead too.
“Perhaps we would speak on the morn,” Ser Duncan tries to offer a solution so he can escape the awkward encounter.
“I know your penny knight not,” Lord Manfred disappoints the tall hedge knight. “Nor you, brother. Be gone.”
Well, you didn’t expect this to go any other way.
“But Ser Arlan took a wound in your father's service,” Ser Duncan steps up to argue after Lord Manfred turned away. “How could you have forgotten him?”
Lord Manfred turns to counter. “My lord father took 800 swords into those mountains. We’ve forgotten men who reaped much more than a wound.”
“Please, Ser, I will not be allowed to challenge unless a knight or a lord will vouch for me.”
“And what is that to me?” Lord Manfred quips and walks away with his whores, leaving Ser Duncan to his lonesome in the night with a solemn look on his face that gives you pity.
There’s only a few men who would beg for help as he did just now. Their ego and pride get in the way, or they find other ways to enter the lists, but he asked for help and every word sounded desperate and sincere.
Thus, you get up from your seat under the tree and make sure Lord Manfred is not in earshot to walk out of the shadows and address Ser Duncan as he’s walking away. “You would have better luck dying your hair red.”
The tall knight stops in his tracks and turns around with a confused, “what?” leaving his lips.
You clasp your hands behind your back and lean your head forward to share something you’ve heard about the stuck-up Lord, whom you’re actually related to because of your mother. “He has a fetish you see? He tends to fancy women with red hair like his. So you would have better luck dying your hair red.”
“I,” he pauses and shakes his head. “I cannot do that.”
You smile with amusement. “Good. That’s very good Ser.”
You stand up straight and study him. Yes, you can’t know much about a person by simply studying them, but you can know that it looks like he doesn’t have a lot by his rough-spun clothes and his thin, smelly, and torn cloak. You can tell he’s quite shy by the way he keeps averting his eyes and by the way a blush paints his cheeks. And maybe it was the way he was acting in the tent, but you can also tell he’s sweet through his bright blue eyes.
You just hope you’re not wrong about him.
“I’ll talk to my father for you,” you offer him some consolation, making Ser Duncan’s gaze snap to you before he starts sputtering as he questions you.
“What?”
You giggle. “I will talk to my father in the morrow so do not get discouraged and leave. Alright, Ser?”
Ser Duncan doesn’t look like he’s processed what you told him, but he still queries. “Why? I mean I am grateful, but you do not know me. You do not owe me anything.”
“No, that is true, but from what I’ve seen you appear to be a good man. It’s rare to meet good and honorable men. We need good and honorable men to be knights of the realm. Men like you.”
Besides, if you help him, maybe he’ll be eternally loyal to you.
“My Lady—”
“Princess!” You hear a booming slurring voice, making you peer back to see Lord Lyonel crossing the bridge. “There you are. I have been searching for you.”
You start to smile before you hear Ser Duncan gasp. “Princess?”
You look back at him and he’s already going down on his knee.
“I am such a brute! My deepest apologies, your grace. I did not know!”
“Did not know?” Lord Lyonel remarks as he reaches your side. “It’s quite obvious is it not? I mean her eyes are…one of a kind.”
You scoff before you address the tall knight. “Rise, Ser. There’s no need for that. It was I who was deceitful about my identity when I realized you did not recognize me.”
Ser Duncan hesitates, but he then slowly stands on his feet and towers over you and Lord Lyonel.
“I will talk to my father on the morrow. He should be arriving in the morning. If the gods are good. If you wish to ask the other lords for their favor you may do so just in case something goes awry. But I will speak to my father,” you assure him, making him bow his head.
“I do not know how to thank you, Princess. Truly.”
“With words. I ask for nothing more,” you offer him some relief since he was already looking troubled over the matter.
“Thank you!”
You offer him a sweet smile and bow your head lightly. “Goodnight, my good Ser.”
“Come then I’ll escort you back to the keep,” Lord Lyonel then chimes in before he starts leading the way, making Ser Duncan bid you a goodnight.
“Goodnight Princess. Thank you once again.”
You offer him a soft hum before you catch up with Lord Lyonel and accept his offer to escort you back to the keep. Even though not long ago you were struggling to get him out of your mind.
“Are you sure you do not need an escort to your tent?” You tease, making Lord Lyonel look at you with an offended look.
“Why would you ever say that?”
You giggle. “Because you are quite drunk,” you point out the obvious.
“Me?” He points at his chest. “Well, you would be right. I am quite drunk, but it is nothing. I can walk you to the keep just fine.”
You hum and nod slowly as you watch him and notice that he can’t even walk in a straight line. Which is hilarious considering what he just spat out.
“I met a pirate once,” you say abruptly and stifle your mischievous smile. “A very nice pirate who taught me this trick to know how drunk you are. Do you want to do it?”
He scoffs. “Of course.”
You both stop in your tracks and he brushes his hair back with his fingers before he claps and clears his throat. “All right, I’m ready.”
You stifle your laugh and step back. “The trick is to spread your arms out,” you tell him. “And lift one foot off the ground and press it on the side of your knee so you can balance on one foot. If you don’t wobble it means you're sober—or sober enough anyway.”
“Okay, okay, I can do this,” he says breathlessly before he dramatically throws his arms out and then looks down at his feet, making his black and white peppered hair fall over his face before, without hesitation or question, he starts to raise one foot, making you cover your mouth with your hand to hide your mischievous smile.
Although if he were looking at your eyes he would be able to notice that you’re up to no good. He doesn’t though. He throws his head back and looks ahead to concentrate as he slowly drags his foot up to the side of his knee.
Nevertheless, when it comes to balancing he fails right away. He’s too drunk, so he loses balance and falls forward, making you throw your hands out to try and catch him.
Albeit, he catches himself quickly by managing to steady himself on your shoulders and in turn making you hold onto his shoulders as well.
“I lied,” you whisper as you stay connected.
Lord Lyonel slowly raises his head and when his light brown eyes meet yours, you feel his breath unfurl over your lips.
“I made it up,” you admit with a mischievous smirk tugging on your lips while Lord Lyonel just holds your gaze with disbelief before he starts to chuckle without moving away. His face hovers over yours as his chuckle grows deeper and as you start to laugh along with him.
You should be the one moving away if he doesn’t, but you can’t move. His breath smells like sweet wine and it keeps you reeled in.
“You mischievous trickster!” He exclaims.
You finally push him away and defend yourself. “There was a pirate! He had a ruby brooch holding up his golden cape that he said was woven with real gold.” You chuckle. “His thinning hair was gold and his long beard was gold too. I asked him if he ever sank his boat because he carries his weight in gold.”
“That’s so stupid,” Lord Lyonel chuckles and you nod.
“I know, but he was foolish too for thinking we believed him.” You laugh as you continue walking. “He said that the next time he saw me he’d gift me a golden dragon egg he found on the shores of Old Valyria. He died not so long after he left. It’s said that he was robbed for his gold. Turned out it was all fake though.”
“What a foolish man.”
“Aye, but he was loads of fun.” You do give the old dead pirate that. “Have you ever drunk with a pirate?”
“Many and they are loads of fun, but unfortunately I meet far more dangerous ones so I have to kill them. It seems that all the fun ones are at King’s Landing though.”
You hum. “You will have to return to the capital. I know the taverns they frequent,” you share smugly as you fiddle with your fingers.
“Oh? Is that so? The Beloved Princess?”
You shrug. “I often go to the taverns with my husband. Not to worry though, he doesn’t tend to hold on for long.”
“I remember. Which is a shame, he’s good fun.”
“When he wants to be,” you mutter before silence accompanies you for a while, but it’s anything but deafening. It’s a loud silence as you keep stealing glances at one another. There’s nothing specific you focus on in either glance. You just glance at each other as if you’re drawn to do so.
There comes a time when you steal a glance at him and feel a heat unfurl over your cheeks immediately, so you look ahead. And it’s while you’re looking ahead that Lord Lyonel steals a glance at you. You notice so you have to bite your lip to keep from smiling whilst you keep looking ahead as you also note that you’re getting close to the keep.
“The night is not yet over. Have you noted that?” He asks and even though you notice the implication to prolong this walk. You don’t take him up on his offer.
“I have, but it is for me. I have much to do on the morrow. My day is quite full.”
He hums.
“Not that it means I do not somehow find my escape in between. I have much to tolerate so I will need it,” you reveal softly and steal a glance at him.
“Hm.” He simply hums with a smirk and you respond the same way.
You soon then reach the keep and before you can disappear inside, you stop and face him with a grateful smile. “Thank you, my Lord. I am sorry I can not escort you to your tent,” you tease.
“That would defeat the purpose of me escorting you here would it not?”
You respond with a shrug. “I am not opposed to the back and forth.”
He chuckles softly before he takes your hand from your side. “I will not keep you. As fun and unexpected as you are,” he says with a charming smile before he brings his lips to your knuckles. “Goodnight, Beloved Princess.”
He presses a light kiss on your knuckles, but it does not matter how fleeting it is. Your body still lights up in a burning fire at the feeling of his wet and warm lips on your flesh, and your heart still skips a beat as he holds your attentive gaze for that short moment before he leaves you gasping for air under the starry night.
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A/N- 👉🏼👈🏼
@carpinchootaku