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Chapter Text

Chapter one

Daughter of Rhaegel Targaryen and Alys Arryn, Princess Daenora had grown up as the third child of the marriage. Her elder siblings, Aelor and Aelora —heirs to the throne— died under strange circumstances, which allowed her uncle Maekar to rise as heir.

She had been displaced and married off at a young age to her cousin Aerion, whose own brothers despised him and called him “monstrous.”

---

On their wedding night, the groom told me a story he found amusing.

"A while back," he began, smiling as he undressed, "I snuck into my brother Egg's room."

"To surprise him?" I asked innocently.

Aerion quickly stripped away my dress and pushed me onto the bed.

"Yes," he said, positioning himself between my legs, "a nice surprise..."

He lifted my legs and licked my private parts with precise movements.

"I approached her bed," he whispered, "with a dagger in my hand."

My breath caught. "With... a d-dagger?"

His tongue plunged deeper. My voice trembled, it was hard to stay serious as my body betrayed me.

"Yes," he continued, without missing a beat, "while he was sleeping, I pulled down his pants and took his pathetic little member in my hand. He woke just in time — poor thing, scared as a lamb."

Aerion flipped me over, pressing me against the sheets, his grip tight in my hair as he entered me deeply.

"Then I said to him," he grunted, "'There are too many brothers, maybe I should make you into a sister I can marry.'"

I wanted to say something — to reveal my horror — but it wasn’t just the sex that unsettled me now. It was him. My new husband.

He moved faster, more eagerly.

"But it didn’t work. The little coward ran off, screaming. He’s hated me ever since."

---

And he kept talking. Every time we were together, it was always the same kind of story. It didn't just amuse him. 

It excited him.

---

Her husband’s banner waved proudly: a three-headed dragon breathing golden fire. Each dragon head bore a different color—red, yellow, and orange. My horse followed behind Aerion’s; the purpose of the procession was to reach Ashford.

Upon our arrival, we were greeted by a tall, well-built man.

“See to my horse, boy,” Aerion ordered.

“I’m not a stable boy, my lord,” the young man replied firmly.

“Not clever enough” the prince retorted as he dismounted.

“I’m a knight, my lord.”

“Knightage has fallen quite low,” said Aerion with a mocking smile.

The prince approached my horse, took me by the waist, and helped me down. The knight left soon after, when the real stableboy arrived.

Aerion often behaved tenderly with me and feigned innocence before his father. But I had seen with my own eyes his brutality… even toward children.

“Go enjoy yourself with the other ladies. I’ll go prepare,” he said, cupping my cheek and kissing me deeply, leaving me breathless.

---

Under the marquee, noble ladies traded gossip while eating without restraint, and the knights prepared for the tournament.

Suddenly, a lady sat beside me. I recognized her at once.

“Olenna! How have you been?”

The young woman with reddish hair replied instantly,

“Embarrassed. I was supposed to be here with my betrothed.”

“Daeron hasn’t arrived yet?”

“He’s probably off getting drunk somewhere.”

Olenna had been betrothed to Daeron around the same time Aerion and I were wed. But the only love her charming groom held was for wine.

“Would you like me to send someone to fetch him?” I asked.

“That won’t be necessary. Prince Maekar is taking care of it.”

“I see.”

“Who do you think will win, Dae?”

“No idea. They say Lord Baratheon came well prepared, so I suppose him.”

“Lyonel Baratheon? I thought you’d pick someone younger.”

“Didn’t you like my answer? Then who’s your choice?”

“Valarr Targaryen,” Olenna replied firmly.

“Good choice.”

“But, Dae, why didn’t you choose your husband? They say he’s quite skilled.”

Daenora fell silent. Among all the knights in the lists, it had never crossed her mind that Aerion could be the victor.

“Because…”

Trumpets and drums interrupted me.

“Now, Prince Aerion Targaryen will choose his opponent!”

We both paid attention immediately.

The silver-haired man donned his helm and raised his lance. He circled the field on his reddish horse until stopping before the gathered knights.

There were several—some in ornate armor, others plainly dressed. But I recognized only one: my cousin Valarr.

Aerion twirled his lance arrogantly, and just when it seemed he would choose his kinsman, he lowered it onto the shoulder of the knight beside him.

“The prince has chosen Ser Humfrey Hardyng!”

Both opponents quickly took their positions.

“According to Lady Manderly,” Olenna whispered, “Ser Humfrey said your husband didn’t stand a chance. Claimed he was a vulgar man, that his horse was slow, and that he’d be disqualified in his first tilt.”

“I see… the knight has overstepped.”

The joust began. Both charged at great speed. Ser Humfrey aimed his lance with precision; the prince did the same.

As they neared impact, the knight failed to notice that his opponent’s lance had dipped too low.

When they clashed, Humfrey didn’t manage to strike Aerion—but the prince’s weapon hit his rival’s mount, piercing the animal’s breastbone.

The horse fell swiftly, dragging Ser Humfrey beneath its weight. His leg cracked as it was crushed.

Both horse and rider screamed in agony…

Chapter Text

The spectators covered their mouths; all had seen what had transpired, yet only one found the courage to speak.

"The prince Aerion struck low. That is not the act of a knight!" cried Humfrey Beesbury, his brother-in-law.

"Prince Baelor, Lord Ashford," he went on, "His Highness Aerion must be disqualified, as the rules command."

The crowd was divided. Some shouted for Aerion, others for the wounded man, and many held their tongues in uneasy silence.

Lord Ashford gave a grave nod while Ser Humfrey’s squires lifted the fallen knight, bearing him toward a solitary marquee.

"I shall visit Ser Hardyng myself," said Baelor, "and send for my own maester to tend to his wounds."

"Thank you, my prince," replied Humfrey, the unhurt, bowing low in respect.

"You speak truly, Beesbury," said Lord Ashford, rising to his feet. "The tourney held in honor of my daughter must be fair to all who take the field. If we allow such things to pass, where then lies the honor of knighthood?"

He paused, letting his words settle upon the crowd.

"We shall not suffer such base conduct. Before all assembled, I name Ser Humfrey Hardyng the victor of this match!"

The crowd turned as one to look upon Aerion. What would the prince do? Rage? Draw steel and strike down the Humfreys and Lord Ashford alike? He did none of these things.

He rose without a word and made his way to his tent. He did not seem angered—if anything, there was a strange calm about him, almost satisfaction.

I left the stands and hastened toward the pavilions, ignoring Olenna’s calls.

Though I moved swiftly, I did not reach him in time.

I pushed aside the curtains, and there he was, seated and unfastening his armor.

"How are you?" I asked softly. My steps were slow, my voice cautious.

He had never hurt me, yet being alone with him always filled me with unease. I feared becoming another story of his cruelty.

"Help me with the armor," he said.

I moved behind him, unbuckling each clasp with care. My fingers trembled.

"You did not answer me," I murmured.

"Fuck tourneys," he said. "I drew blood from that bastard, and that is enough." His voice carried a quiet fury.

"So, you regret nothing," I said.

I removed the last piece of his armor and laid it gently aside, cloak and all.

"No," he replied with a mocking smile. "Well… perhaps one thing only."

"And what would that be?" I took his clothes from the rack and waited as he stood.

"If I had not been disqualified," he said in a low, rough whisper, "you would have been my Queen of Love and Beauty."

My eyes widened. "That would have been far too shameful."

He turned to face me, his hands finding my cheeks.

"A year has passed since our wedding, and still you fear me," he said.

I met his gaze. "You have given me no reason not to."

"Yet here you stand," he said, his grip tightening.

"It is my duty as your wife," I answered, though my breath had grown shallow.

"No one bid you come, yet you ran to me all the same." His mocking, haughty smile never faltered.

Our eyes locked—until the sound of footsteps approached the tent.

"Tonight, I shall show you how cruel I can be," he said, kissing me softly.

Before I could draw back, Maekar entered with Daeron who was completely drunk..

"My apologies for the intrusion," said the father.

I stepped away at once.

"It is quite all right. I have finished helping him with his armor. If you’ll excuse me."

I fled the tent, my back cold, my face aflame, guilt burning behind my eyes.

Chapter Text

Late that night, my lady-in-waiting helped me get ready. A feast would be held in honor of the tournament’s victor, “Ser Humfrey,” who would not even be able to attend, as his leg had yet to heal.

The gown I had chosen for the occasion was red, made of fine fabric with delicate dragon-embroidered patterns. Perfect for a spring evening.

“My lady, I’ve heard they’re putting on a puppet show tonight,” said Melyra as she brushed my hair.

I adjusted the sleeves of my dress. “Do you know anything more?”

“Apparently, a tall girl was seen painting a huge puppet shaped like a dragon’s head.”

“Dragons…?”

“Brienna Beesbury told me the puppet looked so realistic she was afraid to walk past its jaws,” Melyra added with a small laugh.

“Thank you for the information, Mel. We should go to the hall.”

“Of course, my princess.”

As I stepped out of the tent, Aerion was already waiting for me, fully dressed.

“You took less time than I expected,” he said, walking toward me.

“I thought you’d already be in the hall.”

“How could I abandon my wife to the darkness of the night?” His tone dripped with sarcasm as he extended his hand to me.

I took it gracefully. “False sarcasm reveals itself easily,” I said as I began to walk.

Melyra followed us from a respectful distance—close enough to listen, yet far enough not to intrude.

“False sarcasm, me?” Aerion asked, feigning drama.

“You don’t play the innocent very well,” I replied seriously, trying not to smile.

He wrapped an arm around me, pulling me closer. “But I am an angel,” his voice soft but laced with irony.

“Of course, and I’m a septa.”

“Do you like that sort of game in bed? How wicked of you.”

“What?!”

“If you’d like, I can ask the septon for his robes, you can borrow a septa’s, and together we’ll conceive a holy child”.

My eyes went wide. Clearly, he was mocking me. I turned back, seeking moral support from Mel, but my lady only smiled mischievously. It was obvious she was imagining the very scene Aerion had described.

“Look, we’re here,” I said, giving him a few gentle pushes to hurry him through the door.

Inside, nobles, knights, and maidens were celebrating the victor with a grand feast, while the bards sang of heroic deeds.

Aerion and I took our seats at the table nearest to Lord Ashford, reserved for distinguished guests. Many had yet to arrive, including Prince Maekar and Daeron.

I washed my hands and filled my plate. When the bards finished their songs, Lord Ashford stood.

“To honor Ser Hardyng, a Dornish troupe has prepared a puppet show for all of you!”

The crowd applauded as the puppeteers entered the stage, carrying a massive dragon’s head.

The show began. The puppets told a tale of innocent and chivalric love: a princess terrorized by a dragon, rescued by a brave knight. The dragon breathed fire and faced the hero; after a fierce battle, the man triumphed, driving his sword through the beast’s heart—the death of the last dragon. When the knight prevailed, the audience rose to their feet, laughing and applauding. It was a lovely story… yet no one seemed to notice the hidden meaning. The dragon was, after all, the sigil of our House.

Aerion stood from his seat while the cheers still filled the hall. He strode straight toward the stage, seized a guard’s weapon, and shattered the puppet of the knight.

Silence fell at once. When the puppeteer tried to defend her creations, the prince struck her with the sword so hard that the young woman fell to the ground.

“How dare you insult my bloodline?!” he roared, his face consumed by fury.

A bald-headed boy fled the scene as I rose and hurried toward my husband.

“My lord, that was never my intent,” the woman pleaded through tears.

Aerion seized her arm violently.

“It was only an innocent story,” I tried to soothe him.

“Innocent or not, this treacherous bitch must pay,” he spat.

Then he lifted her hand, took one of her fingers, and… a crack echoed through the hall.

Chapter Text

"No, please!" the lady begged through her tears.

The young girl’s finger cracked, then another, and another still. She screamed in pain.

The boy who had left earlier returned, this time accompanied by the same man we had seen upon our arrival.

"What are you doing to Tanselle?!" he shouted.

The stranger did not wait for an answer. He lunged at the prince and, with a single struck, knocked him down. He kept hitting him until Aerion’s face was covered in blood.

Everyone was in shock, frozen like statues.

"What are you waiting for? Stop them!" I shouted to the guards, trying to separate them myself.

The first guard who reached them failed; it took two of them to pull the knight away.

Aerion was furious. "What are you waiting for? Take a hammer—break all his teeth, open his body, and show him the color of his entrails!"

The knights prepared to follow the order. One of them approached the stranger, hammer in hand, while I helped Aerion to stand.

But before they could strike, the boy stepped in front of them and spoke firmly.

"Stop right now."

Everyone turned to look at him.

"Aegon… imprudent little wretch, what happened to your hair?" said Aerion.

Then everyone understood: the little one was Aegon Targaryen, the prince’s younger brother. He was Egg, the same one my husband had once told me about.

"I cut it," the boy replied with a smile. "So I wouldn’t look like you."

"We should go; your wounds need to be treated at once," I said with concern.

"Guards, lock up that… knight," Aerion ordered with satisfaction.

The guards obeyed, lifted the attacker, and took him away.

"Ser Duncan was only trying to protect the lady!" protested Aegon.

"He struck a member of the crown. That means death, little brother," replied Aerion, turning to the puppeteer. "Good luck with your shows, Tanselle."

He took my hand, kissed the back of it, and began to play with my fingers—the same ones he had broken in the young woman’s hand.

We both left the place, heading back to our tents.

---

Once in the camp, I began to tend to his wounds.

"You shouldn’t have lost control. That man hit you hard, even kicked you," I said while pressing a clean cloth to stop the bleeding.

"He deserved it. That Ser Duncan will pay for it," he murmured, a strange light in his eyes.

"What will you do with him?" I asked as I cleaned his face and continued the treatment.

"He will die, and I’ll make sure Aegon sees it."

"That could cause conflict. It’s still not known if Prince Maekar knew about the knight… or that Aegon was under his service," I replied cautiously.

"Now that you mention it, Daeron—in one of his many drunken moments—confessed that Egg had been taken by a knight," Aerion groaned when I pressed one of his wounds.

"Since King Daeron isn’t here, the ones with the highest rank are Maekar and Baelor. They could defend Aegon’s knight."

Aerion took me by the waist and pulled me closer.

"Then, what do you suggest?" he asked.

"When they gather again, you could ask for a trial by combat," I replied quickly, my hands still busy treating him.

"That would be interesting..."

He didn’t finish the sentence. He leaned toward me and kissed me—fast and full of desire.

I returned the kiss, sitting on his lap.

Chapter Text

Our eyes connected as if we were one. The kiss intensified.

Aerion slipped his hand under the skirt of my dress, gently brushing against my leg; the friction tensed my back.

I held his face. “You shouldn't get into trouble.”

“I don't know how to do that,” he whispered, his voice low, predatory. “Teach me.”

He began to slowly remove my dress; his touch, gentle, but his hand was cold.

“You can start reacting more calmly,” I murmured as I placed my hands on his neck.

He moved the top of my dress aside, leaving my torso exposed. He kissed my breasts, taking his time with each one.

I kissed his neck intensely, removing his shirt at the same time.

“And what will I gain if I obey?” he asked.

Aerion grabbed my waist and pulled my gown down even further, until gravity took its toll and it fell to the floor.

"Isn't this enough?" I whispered.

My hands moved down to his waist, removing his belt and finally his pants.

The prince smiled and placed one hand on my hips while placing the other between my legs, caressing my intimate area.

At the same time, I pulled his member out of his pants and stroked it from tip to base. I started slowly at first, but increased my speed as he, in turn, did the same to my intimate area.

I sighed as Aerion inserted two fingers inside me, continuing to stroke with his thumb.

I leaned down to his manhood, took it into my mouth, and began to masturbate him.

I used my hands to massage him, both at the same pace. My limbs spiraled, my mouth focused only on the tip, my tongue moving in intense circles.

He gave a few low moans, but he didn't stop. Instead, he increased the speed even more, so much so that I was close to reaching my limit, but I couldn't, as my husband removed his hand from my insides.

"It'll do for now," he whispered sarcastically as he licked those fingers.

The man lifted me up, plunging his member into my intimacy. At first, the movements were slow, but they culminated when he fully inserted himself.

From that moment on, only speed and desire ruled. The chair we were sitting on fell due to the intensity; we both fell with it.

As he fell, Aerion climbed on top of me, lifted my legs, and continued with the same speed—if not greater. I wrapped my limbs around his hips to press us closer together, while I inadvertently scratched his back with my nails.

He kissed my nipples, moving down my belly until he finally bit me on the pelvis.

The action made his moan louder than usual, so he kissed me, teasing me with her tongue. I ended the kiss by licking his lips.

I moved down to his neck and bit him…

We both continued until we were completely satisfied.

---

During the night, the sounds outside kept me awake; they were soft footsteps, like those of a small child.

I lifted the tent cloth so I could peek out. I wanted to go back to sleep, but the gossip got the better of me.

On the other side, I didn't find legs or shoes but a green eye staring deeply into my face.

Apparently, it had been watching me too.

"Follow me, Daenora…"