For almost her entire life, Daella Targaryen has lived as Mellara Rivers, the bastard daughter of Arnold Arryn and cupbearer of Lady Jeyne Arryn. First and trueborn daughter of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, Daella had but slight contact with her fami...
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F O U R
Baby, a dangerous idea That almost makes sense ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
The journey to Kingslanding was a long one indeed, especially when one had to face the opposite way of movement, having no saddle and no freedom of movement. Daella was glad when Prince Aemond made the call to stop for the night, ordering his men to set up camp and bind the prisoners to one of the trees. They had ridden hard and long, leaving Antlers and the God's Eye behind them. If she were to believe the men, they would arrive at Kingslanding tomorrow just before midday.
Daella and ser Elseham were pulled from their shared horse by the same man which had dragged Daella from the bench and there was little but the ground to break their fall. She could feel a sharp pain near her temple as her head hit one of the rocks and she swallowed the moan that was about to escape her mouth. Another man, whose name she had learned to be Simon Strong, undid the ropes that bound her and ser Elseham together and hoisted Daella up roughly up by her arm.
"The cunt's bleeding," Strong said, laughing at the statement. His voice took a high tone, like a pig squealing when it was picked up.
Daella shot him an angry glare, wondering how he would like it if she stuck her hidden dagger in his temple and laughed about it. Swallowing the agitation and annoyance that washed over her at the sight of Strong's face twisted away in joy, she let herself be dragged to one of the trees. Without a warning, Strong pushed her to the ground, once more blessing her ears with that high-pitched laugh as he did so, and used the rope to tie her hands to her middle and her middle to the trunk of the tree. Her gaze never left the young man, but from the corners of her eyes, she could see that not too far away, ser Elseham received the same treatment as her.
Simon Strong, who Daella would have describes as handsome had his character not been so rotten, gave her a degrading pat on her cheek with the nastiest grin he could probably muster. "Enjoy the night, bastard," he said, before walking away.
Glaring daggers at his back, Daella wished for the magical power of being able to simply kill someone by looking at them with a frown. Her eyes shifted to the rest of the group, busy with starting a campfire and preparing a meal. There had been another Strong, Lord Larys Strong of Harrenhal, but he had returned to his castle after Daella and ser Elseham had been bound together on a single horse. He had also been the one who had stared into her soul as though he could pry away all of her secrets. Then there was the fat lord, who carried the name Byron Tully and was obviously only travelling with them in the hopes of receiving a fat purse upon his arrival at Kingslanding. The other two men were brothers from the north of the Riverlands, sons of some lesser lord Daella didn't recognize the name of.
As the night fell, the smell of roasted duck and the sound of bad jokes surrounded her, she longed for her chambers in the Eyrie. She would have dined with Lady Jeyne and the lords and ladies of the Vale, a fire would be burning in her room and she could spend the night reading about the history of Westeros by moonlight. Now she was bound to a tree, her mantle wet from the night dew, her muscles sore and her stomach grumbling in disagreement. To make matters worse, her head was throbbing from her fall upon the stone.
