𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞, hotd

two

━━━━━ He will not be happy, Rhaenys had told her. Yet Daena could see the glint in her eyes as she had uttered those words. She, Rhaenys and Viserys were the best of friends as children. And while Rhaenys still harbored love for Viserys— that love had slightly demolished as Rhaenys had never quite forgiven Viserys and partly their grandsire for allowing the lords of the realm choosing Viserys as heir instead of her.

Daena had rolled her eyes at her cousin, knowing well enough that Rhaenys had found it quite amusing despite her words. Her brother had told her not to compete at the tournament, yet she will do it anyway.

"Bring me my sword, boy." She snapped at the squire that had glanced at her longer than appreciated. She would've found such a thing humorous but now all she could think about was showing up as the knight for House Targaryen, showing up in all her glory to her brother.

She would make him see.

The boy handed her Darksister and Daena once again felt the power ooze from it. Grabbing the hilt tighter, she began to walk out from the tent.

She noticed the looks thrown at her and she sent the lords all a simple smirk. She didn't care what those fat lords thought of her.

She is a Targaryen. They are all sheep bellow her.

She walked to her mare and stroked his side. "We will win boy. Be ready," she whispered and closed her eyes. For all the things she did— does, she does to prove herself. For him.

"And now, presenting, Princess Daena of House Targaryen! The Princess of the City!"

She bid the horse to trot and she smirked in delight as she caught the anger radiate from her brother's face. For the humor off it, she sent him a smirk and rode up to the other contestants. Her eyes ran from every one until they eventually set on Hightower.

Side glancing Otto Hightower, she announced her opponent as she pointed her lance at him. She practically saw the poor boy piss himself.

Poor Hightower. He was quite the looker for a Hightower. Gwayne Hightower she believed he was named. No matter, he would not keep it for long.

"The princess has chosen Ser Gwayne Hightower, the son of the Hand!"

She saw the Hightower whelp staring at her like he knew he was going to have the victory. Daena wanted to chuckle at his naivety.

As the signal was given, Daena dug her heels into her horse's sides, urging it forward.

The sound of clashing lances echoed through the air as the two jousters charged at each other. Daena's lance hit Gwayne's shield with a resounding thud, but Gwayne managed to scratch her lance at her shoulder, causing her to wince in pain.

Yet Daena was not one to back down easily. She gritted her teeth and charged at Gwayne once again.

This time, Daena's aim was true. Her lance went straight through Gwayne's shoulder, and he fell off his horse with a thud. The crowd gasped in shock and awe as Daena rode up to Gwayne's fallen form.

Daena laughed as she felt the crowd go wild in excitement. She caught her nephew's look and sent him a wink, causing his cheeks to redden.

She also noticed the distan look his little Hightower friend sent her. Never minding her, she was up again and on to fight her next opponent who was Ser Criston Cole.

              "MORE WINE, MY PRINCESS?" Mysha questioned as he leaned down to kiss her neck. Daena smiled as she accepted the drink.

After the tournament it had been announced the death of Queen Aemma. And a few hours after, the death of Prince Baelon. It was not meant to be. Not for Aemma, and not for Viserys. Daena did hope her brother was happy. He had an heir already, and so killed Aemma because of his own desires for a spare.