"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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Maegelle prided herself in being pious, even wearing long gowns and praying in the middle of a crowded sept — but Daemon blew everything out of proportion. It was strange at first, watching the handmaidens fill her bath while Daemon quickly dressed himself. There were no words exchanged, only stolen glances.
"My lady, your bath is drawn." the head handmaiden walked into the room, her eyes cast on the floor. Maegelle smiles reassuringly, before adjusting her robe for the second time. "You may leave," she announced, while walking towards her bathroom — Daemon quickly following after her. He didn't want to leave just yet.
She could hear the pitter-patter of his feet on the marble floor. "Do you wish to leave?" she inquired, while putting her hand on the water — measuring its temperature. "Not really," he replied and she rolls her eyes. It was hard getting rid of him. "Then, are you going to watch me bathe?" she raised her eyebrows, and he pulls a chair beside her bathtub — challenging her. "Would you like that?" he questioned, while sitting on the small stool.
"Futhermore, we still have to talk about this." he pointed at the both of them, staring at her eyes as she removes her robes — allowing the cloth to fall on the ground. "What about us?" she asked, falling into the bath slowly. The water was trepid, but the flowers were relaxing. His eyes watched her, the same was a predator stalks its prey.
He licks his lips, cautiously thinking of the right words. "We are betroth, and your handmaidens have caught us in a ludicrous embrace. We should honor the engagement, and marry truly. You deserve a real dragon." he asserted, dipping a finger inside the trepid bath. His eyes were pierced upon her, not even taking a second off her eyes. Those honey brown pools have the same effect as purple ones. The blood of the dragon laid dormant in her veins.
"I had a husband, Daemon." her voice came out as a pleading whisper. "And I loved him." she smiled sadly, fiddling with a soft petal that rose above the water. His features faltered slightly. He was formidable and skilled. He was a living man, and yet he was pale in comparison to her Brandon. "Oftentimes, I believe that he never existed — but I wake up beside Jaehaerys and Cregan. And I am bitterly reminded of his legacy. I burn for you more than I burn for him — a dragon can only love a dragon." she broke their gaze, preparing herself for the next few words.
"The things we feel, it is dangerous. Brandon and I shared respect for each other — I didn't love him and he didn't love me. Still, it was too dangerous. We'd spend months not talking to each other over a fight — and then it began to hurt Jaehaerys. The very claws we aimed at each other, hurt our little boy instead." she explained, with a single tear rolling down her eye.
"What I mean to say is that — I don't know how to love or be in a marriage without hurting someone." she looked away, breaking their gaze. It hurt him to see her think of herself little. His hands reach for her chin, forcing her to stare at his purple orbs. He smiles.
"You deserve love, my dear." he whispered, pressing a soft kiss on her forehead. "A rotten fruit will not harm the whole bunch." he promised, pressing a kiss on her cheeks. He walked into the relationship, thinking that Maegelle would to heal him — but he's found himself doing the opposite. "Think about my proposal. Think about it with your heart." he advised, taking a deep breath and standing up.
——
He left her.
But it wasn't the first time she's ever been left.
Brandon left her too.
She was the reason he died. Maegelle didn't allow him inside the birthing-chambers because of a little spat that they had. Which led him to the forests of the North — mauled by a direwolf before he could think twice.
She asks herself sometimes.
'Why do I not wilt in these lands? Why do the northerners still look at me with warm eyes?'
If only they knew the real reason.
——
It was cold and damp. There was nothing but snow for the next thousand miles. Everything that surrounded her felt familiar. The throne was in-front of her, in all of it's glory. There were a few more swords added unto it — but it was beautiful. She turned around, and suddenly there was a crown of dragon-steel and rubies on her head. Everyone knelt to her.
Queen Maegelle of House Targaryen, The First of Her Name, Queen of The Andals and Rhoynar, Protector of The Realm.
But she couldn't hear them, deep in the crowd she finds a pair of grey eyes staring at her. Brandon Stark — the man she murdered, the man she denied. "Brandon." a shudder escapes her mouth, and suddenly it was just the both of them. "Maegelle." he responded in a ghostly whisper, his cold shoes began walking towards her.
His face was covered with crimson fluid. His face was half torn — with bite marks on its side. "I'm sorry," she shuddered forcing herself to stare at his face. 'You did this! You are guilty of lechery.'
She expected him to strike her — to raise his bow and maim her body, but he looked at her softly — the same warmth that a thousand torches had. "Sorry?" he inquired, his voice holding confusion. "I was the one who send you away," her lips curled into a sad pout. "You would still be with me, if not so." she reasoned, her voice cracking slightly.
She still blamed herself.
"You are not at fault," he comforted, as more of the crimson fluid trickled down his face. The handsome face of Brandon was mauled — broken beyond repair. "The gods have planned this." he replied, placing a hand on the top of her shoulder. She was shaking in fear — her eyes looking down in embarrassment. "The moment I saw you, my fate was already sewn." he chuckled, adjusting the crown atop her head. He was just a man. He was more man than he was warg.
His wife was the real dragon. The only hope against winter.
"Why are you here?" she whispered, her eyes still cast on the floor. She could bare to look at him — to stare inside the eyes of a man she once loved with all her heart. "To remind you, that I'm your past. And you must stare into the future." he said, the tips of his mouth turning into a smile. 'Maegelle, forget about me.' he wanted to say.
He wanted to tell her that there was no room for him in the Heavens of Old Valyria. He was destined to be somewhere else. He would float into the halls of the Olds Gods — to be reincarnated as a tree, or as a river. Their beliefs would not allow them to see, even in afterlife.
——
The water was already cold when she woke up. "Fuck." she cursed, staring at her brined fingers. She must've fallen asleep inside the bath. She raises her body — reaching for the discarded robe on the floor. She could remember her dream in vivid detail. Her husband's body was never found — he was never given a proper burial. He told her to gaze upon the future.
The future was Daemon: she was certain. Daemon wasn't a good man. He was good to her and her sons — but to other people? He was cruel and half-malice. But they were the same people. Maegelle and Daemon — though they both deny it.
The boys needed a father.
The cruelest prince in the seven kingdoms would be a perfect match.
