Collection of One-Shots

》dragonknight

Even darkness seeks the light, or in which Daemon considers you his northern star —his guiding light. 

HE LOWERS THE blunted training sword and frowns as you bolt down the steps of the tower and around Ser Ryam the Dragon —not wishing to be the fair maiden in need of saving again. Instead, you take up another sword, too big and heavy, and stand stalwart in your choice. Prince Daemon Targaryen nigh pouts. He's meant to be brave and valiant and save his lady from danger. "How am I to be your dragonknight if you won't let me save you?" He laments.

"Two swords are better than one against this fearsome foe," you tell him, but the game is already over then.

Ser Ryam Redwyne laughs and rises from his haunches, feeling the ache in his aging joints —Clement Crabb told him it was his turn to entertain the prince and his coconspirator. At least then it would keep the pair out of too much trouble. "She is not wrong, my prince," he remarks. Even a knight of the Kingsguard has brothers-in-arms, seeking and accepting help does not make one less of a man or less of a prince.

"You make a fine dragon, ser," you note, remembering your courtesies.

Ser Ryam Redwyne smiles at your compliment. "Thank you, my lady," the Kingsguard knight says, giving a half-bow to you and Prince Daemon before taking his leave to rejoin the king.

Florence Fossoway enters the courtyard, passing Ser Ryam, with her hands clasped in front of her golden-rose belt. "Prince Daemon," she greets, lowering her head in veneration before turning her attention to you —a rowdy girl who'd rather frolic about the Red Keep and the streets of King's Landing with Daemon Targaryen instead of practicing her stitches and letters. Your mother's lips purse into the slightest of frowns, recalling the conversation the prior eve with her lord husband and your father, Martyn Tyrell. Soon you'll be too old to partake in such churlish activities. The prince may be able to do as he pleases, but you will not. "It's time for your lessons," she reminds you. Sewing, reading, writing, and learning the harp, among other things —all of which are considered comely talents in a good wife.

THE SUN'S WARMTH shines through the canopy of summer foliage to the forest floor of the Kingswood, painting a halo of light around where you and Daemon lay, looking skyward at the passing clouds. It's a rare thing of late, being able to spend time with him. Too often, duties and lessons keep you and Daemon separated now that you've grown older —not quite children any longer, but not yet adults in the eyes of the lords and ladies of the court.

Still, you've heard the whispers about what the small council speaks of, and so has Daemon. He sees how you worry in silence, though —always twisting your hair or picking at the skin of your palms, always trying to be a good and dutiful daughter for House Tyrell. But now, more than ever, the whispers are no longer uncertain truths or mere rumors, and in the past weeks, a heavy weight has settled on your chest and shoulders.

You've grown quieter as time passes, and the midmorning fades into the afternoon. Daemon looks at you and frowns when he sees unshed tears budding in your eyes. He reaches for your hand, twining his fingers with yours, and squeezes. He's always been your dearest friend, your dragonknight. "We'll always be together." You want to believe him —he sounds so certain of it. "I won't let anyone take you." That makes you smile, but Daemon still sees your doubt. "I'm a prince, remember?" And soon to be a dragonrider, he thinks. No one would be able to stop him then. He would be able to whisk you away to the far reaches of the land —places you've only ever imagined in stories.

"Promise?" It's a trembling whisper.

"On the Old Gods of Valyria," he swears, then looks back to the sky and the creeping storm clouds. "One day we can go there," he says, voicing his thoughts aloud, "on dragon back." He's told you about Caraxes —the Blood Wyrm— and Aemon's former mount. A wild, unpredictable beast with a will strong as any Targaryen's, but Daemon's always had an eye for Caraxes. The dragonkeepers oft let the prince into the great dome to see him and the others, though he's yet to take the Blood Wyrm for his own mount. But soon he will and you'll both be able to fly high and far and free.