Cirilla was a girl bedevilled. All her life, she'd been plagued with terrible nightmares of fire and blood. But as she twisted and turned and burned, Daemon Targaryen smelt the smoke and smiled.
daemon targaryen x fem!oc
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𝕿HE SMELL OF PEARS and rosemary was ripe in the air as Ciri hung over her balcony, watching the crowds pouring into the capital for the Heir's Tournament. A colourful array of banners flapped in the wind as a procession of carriages and horses rolled through the Dragon Gate. The olive green archer of House Tarly, the black stag of Baratheon, the navy of Mallister... but Ciri kept her eyes peeled for the ebony raven of House Ashryver and the golden Lion of Lannister. She hadn't seen her brother in almost three years. The last time Aedion had visited the Red Keep was when he'd accompanied the Lords Tyland and Jason Lannister there for the Tourney of the White Spring.
Perched on her shoulder was the raven he'd gifted her before setting sail for Casterly Rock. It was larger than others of its ilk, belonging to a rare species native to Cintra. They were said to have been created by the warlocks of old, intelligent and sacred symbols of the Elder's insight. It was why Correl Ashryver took it for their banner those many years ago. She'd named him Rhon, meaning "king" in her father's tongue. He was a regal beast, indeed. Though no dragon by any means, Ciri had grown fond of the raven. He nipped at her hair affectionately and she tossed him a piece of her fig. He caught it in his beak and greedily swallowed down the sweet fruit.
It was a miracle that she was even able to attend this week's tourney. Against all odds, Rhaenys had not found out about Ciri's excursions into the city. While Arobynn led Laena back to Maegor's tunnel, so as to remain unseen, Ser Borus had escorted her to the Red Keep's gates. She was sure she'd be brought straight to Lord Corlys, who would then have no choice but to alert her mother. However, it seemed none of the servants blinked twice at what they saw as a peasant girl, so she was spared from the rumour mill on that front. Then the guard had simply left her at the threshold to her chambers, remarking crudely that a bath would do her well. Ciri could hardly believe her luck. Then again, Daemon had not given any specific instructions about taking her to her step-father for disciplinary action.
Still, Ciri was hesitant to fall for any false pretences, so the next morning (after barely two hours of sleep), she covered the bruise on her cheek with lily root powder and had asked the maesters for some healing salve—trusting their discretion—which had helped lessen the infection on her cut palm. Ciri acted warily when breaking her fast with her family. Laena and her must've looked very suspicious, glancing at each other nervously, in want of their usual giggles.
But the gods truly were on their side because their parents were too busy discussing some business in the Stepstones to notice their children's awkwardness. It did not, however, go unnoticed by Laenor, who'd cornered them as soon as breakfast was finished, demanding answers. They had been slow to divulge any of their misdoings. Despite serving as their all-too-willing accomplice in many of Ciri's crimes, Laenor was also not unknown for selling them out to the highest bidder. Dangle a berry scone in front of that boy and no secret was safe. They lasted until about the throne room before his nagging proved too much and they gave in. Satisfied with their retelling and not at all troubled by the violence, her step-brother of two-and-ten bounded away to inconvenience someone else.
