Chapter 8

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Daenyra awoke, barely able to feel her toes as they peaked out beneath the furs of her bed. Winterfell was freezing at night regardless of the fact that it was still summer. 

Maids scrambled into her room to dress the young princess.

The servants were a factor in her new life that she adored. No one had ever cared for her in her first life and their undying devotion and care were a lovely new addition. 

She loved the power that came with being a Targaryen. 

One thing that is very important to recognize about our dear princess is that Daenyra has never been... good. She is no angel. She is most definitely not the hero of the story. Daenyra has no religion but greed has always been her god. 

She was born and bred to be a monster and no amount of love and care from this life would undo the damage of the first. 

She was power-hungry, ruthless, and cared little for the people around her. But she knew that they cared and that was enough for her. 

She knew that Aegon, Derek, James, and Aemond were in love with her. Maybe even Rickon Stark based on the love at first-sight puppy dog eyes he had been sending her for the past two days. She would never love any of them back, she couldn't. Maybe she would find them useful long enough to not utterly destroy their hearts but that was all she had to offer. 

She could fuck for advantage, marry for power, have children for more pons, but never had Daenyra Targaryen experienced the feeling of loving someone else. 

What she was really, really good at was making them love her. 




"Daeny! Slow down!" Rickon called out laughing as the barefoot princess pranced through the forest fast as a wood nymph. 

"There will come a soldier, who carries a mighty sword! He will tear your city down. Oh lei, oh lai, oh, Lord~" She sang out, giggling in the sunlight as she danced her way ahead, dodging every branch and stone. 

She was wearing one of his fur cloaks, covering the flimsy white fabric of the dress underneath. She saw the glistening sun reflecting off the surface of the water as she unclipped the cloak, letting it drop on a dry patch of grass. 

She lifted her skirts, jumping from rock to rock until she was in the middle of the slow-running water. 

"What on earth are you doing? You're going to fall you, reckless girl!" He laughed finally catching up to the princess who practically glowed in the sunlight. 

He was holding her shoes and her now abandoned cloak, absolutely bewitched by the angel before him. In the three days since Princess Daenyra had arrived in Winterfell, Rickon Stark had decided she was the love of his life. 

He had met a thousand noble ladies. Some proper, some wild, some noble, some wise, some funny, all beautiful. But not one could erase the image of the Diamond Dragon from his heart. 

His father and siblings had been teasing him for days but he didn't care. Not when she smiled at him and his heart stopped in his chest. She teased him and complimented him. She was proper but sometimes played like a child. She was titled and lovely and oh so angelic. 

He smiled just watching her as she stepped from stone to stone singing silly songs he'd never heard before, "What I love most about rivers is, you can't step in the same river twice. The water's always changing, always flowing. But people, I guess, can't live like that. We all must pay a price. To be safe, we lose our chance of ever knowing. What's around the riverbed? Waiting just around the Riverbend!

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