"Give the girl to me to wife. Who else would take her now?"
The Rogue Prince was able to take what he desired, and is given the Snow Dragon to marry. Daemon and Maegelle's story was always that of Ice and Fire, leaving the Greens nothing but ash an...
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Those few years she spent with Brandon Stark was euphoria. Every now and then, she would close her eyes and see his pale grey ones stare at her. He'd visit her in her dreams, tracing his hand on her thigh and whispering stories of old. And perhaps in her dreams, he was still alive — — teaching his sons sword-fighting in Winterfell. She was the blood of Old Valyria, she wasn't meant to walk in the halls of western lords — yet here she was.
Tyland Lannister was a self-centered prick whose only personality was gold. He couldn't stop talking about his family's vast storage of gold and how rich they were. It was a tiresome affair and her father was forcing her to do it. "Our mines have flowed with gold since the dawn of time," he ranted off and she sighs loudly.
Not once has this man looked in her direction. He was just staring at his reflection from the silver plate. There wasn't a reflective surface he didn't like. Tyland Lannister was vain — it seemed like his vanity had its own vanity.
"I'm sure there's more to our conversation than gold," she retorted sassily, trying to give him the hint that she wasn't interested. It was humiliating to see herself talking to him. He was shallow — and rather ugly. "What more is there?" he responded his eyes not taking a second off his face.
She rolls her eyes in a petulant manner. The man was as shallow as a puddle. "If you will excuse me," she gathered her things before standing up and taking her leave. There was no use talking to a man who only loved himself.
——
These past few months, her father kept begging her to speak to eligible lords, trying to find a suitable marriage for his oldest daughter. She knew that it was her responsibility. She was heir — and thus had to make more children in order to secure her line. It didn't help with Rhaenyra's reports. Leeches on her father's throne, seeking to take away her crown. It worried her — but marriage scared her.
Women were always seen as puppets. Her husband would be king in everything but name. Everyone would respect him, more than they respected her. She needed to choose wisely. Someone they feared and loved. Someone who could defend her.
"Pebble for your thoughts?" Daemon whispers in her ear as she jumps lightly from surprise. "What are you doing here?" she questioned, but it comes out sharper than expected. She didn't trust him anymore. He chuckles lightly before slumping down beside her.
The Rogue Prince was feared more than he was loved.
He's seen her escape the greedy grasps of her suitors. Sometimes running to the gardens or the library. But most of the time, she spent it in her father's solars — the only place they haven't checked yet.
"I was looking for you." he answers bluntly, taking a bite of the green-apple on his hand. He was an expert in looking for missing things. The only problem was — Maegelle wasn't lost. But still, he managed to find her. "Have you come to murder me?" she jested bitterly, seeing him as her rival — the object of her ire.
