⸻ ( Daemon Targaryen )
She comes like rain, soft and gentle, upon his cheeks. The taste of summer snow and enduring love, like a declaration of war upon fate.
( house of the dragon ) • 2022
( editing in progress )
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WHEN Lyra was five and ten, her father had surprised her with a bundle of letters. He had an amused grin as he watched her rifle through the stack, glancing over seals bearing sigils of stags and towers and swords. She recognised the Great Houses and their vassal lords, from the Vale to the Reach, from the Westerlands to the Stormlands. At the very bottom was a letter with the king's seal, an intricate three-headed dragon embossed upon crimson wax. She looked at her father with confusion painted over her delicate features.
"Why are they writing to me?" she had asked.
"They are writing for you," replied Lord Stark. "For your hand in marriage." She made a face, lips twisting as her tongue was filled with distaste. "So, my little pup, has any one of them taken your fancy?"
If she had been allowed to choose a man for love, which among the Great Houses would have captured her heart? Would she live in eternal spring with the Tyrells or count gold upon the lofty rock of the Lannisters? If there had been a good match, she thought she fancied taking the name of Tully. The Riverlands was much closer to home after all.
But Lyra turned her gaze back to the king's letter, wondering what the contents therein could be. There was no doubt that she could not refuse a proposal made by the king himself, and that it was the best match that any maiden in the realm could ever hope for. The Targaryens were said to be closer to gods than to men and they often wedded each other in the tradition of their house. The letter in her hand seemed like a visage of an apparition, that at any moment the Maiden would take it from her and leave her wanting.
Her father laughed and plucked the letter from her fingers instead. "You're much too clever than I give you credit for," he remarked before opening it. She watched closely as he perused its contents with pale eyes flickering over the parchment.
"What does it say?" she asked and his gaze flicked up to her with silent contemplation. He handed the letter back and she searched the elegant script quickly for a name. A match. She felt her breath catch in her throat, her heart drumming between her ribs.
