Princess Maegelle Targaryen knew the importance of balance and unity, she learnt it from deceased her husband. Now that her mother is to the worms, she must return to Kingslanding and protect the claim that her father has bestowed upon her.
"You ne...
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Daemon walked alongside them. He could see a ghost of himself shaking his head saying: here you are again, Daemon, lusting for the very things that will destroy you in the end. Maegelle's eyes soaked in the beautiful tapestries that were scattered along the walls. These same halls, these same servants were once part of her mundane life.
"I wasn't here when my mother died, is Rhaenyra well?" she asked, guilty of her absence. If she was there would things have been different? "She is bereft, but time heals all wounds." he comforted, not wanting to tell the whole truth just yet. Rhaenyra refuses to eat and bathe. She's but a shell of herself. Maegelle nods.
Her hands rest on Jaehaerys' back, following the servants who would lead them to their chambers. "Not much has changed here," she observed. It was as if – she was thrown right into the past, like her grandsire was still there to defend her.
They halt in front of a big yellow door. She recognizes it to be her old chambers.
"It looks so beautiful," Jaehaerys murmured, staring at the murals that decorated the door. Winterfell wasn't as beautiful as this. Her husband, though rich he may be – had a firm grip on their finances. He believed that Winter was coming, and the Starks must think wisely on their shows of lavishness. It led to Maegelle stitching her own gowns, or asking her grandfather (Jon Arryn) for funds. She smiles softly, staring at the familiar yellow doors.
Oh, how beautiful life was before. Her breakfast used to be art, song and music. She missed culture, no matter how much she pretended she didn't.
"Is this our room?" Jaehaerys asks and she shakes her head. "You will have another room," she responded. Her son smiles. "Really? The Red Keep has a lot of rooms." he cheered. "- and two libraries, as I've heard that you enjoy reading." Daemon added, the little boy's smile deepens.
Jaehaerys would grow to enjoy Kingslanding.
—
Daemon's eyes bore into her, almost piercing holes behind her head. She grew more beautiful with every passing second – to the point that he could memorize every indention in that perfect nose of hers, every wrinkle in the sides of her eyes and every freckle on her pale skin.
"I'm joyous that you've decided to return," Viserys smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his daughter's cheek. She was across the table, but Daemon was able to catch a whiff of her perfume. The smell of lilies and roses. Seductive and alluring, the mere thought of the scent made his stomach blossom with lust. "I've longed for the Red Keep," she responded with a courteous smile.
Viserys also longed for his wife – the sight of Maegelle reminded him of Aemma. "You've been gone for so long," he mentions. "I am thankful for such a warm return," she makes the mistake of locking eyes with Daemon. She realizes his stare on her.
The lust behind his eyes.
This woman was a living potion. A drink made by the gods. A temptation.
"Rhaenyra, are you well?" Maegelle asked, turning her attention towards the Realm's Delight. "I am well." the girl responded with the same rehearsed smile. The death of her mother was still fresh in her mind. All the blood, the screaming. "Princess Rhaenyra has been spending time with Lady Alicent." King Viserys informed, Maegelle hums.
She's heard about Lady Alicent, the daughter of Ser Otto.
The only hand that Maegelle trusted was her grandfather, Prince Baelon, who was sadly not among them anymore. "She's good for you, I'm sure." Maegelle nods her head, earning a real smile from her little sister. Rhaenyra adored Alicent, more than a friend should.
"Maegelle," her name escaped from Daemon's lips, and her head shifted in his direction. Their eyes locked once more. "Daemon," she called out to him with unfamiliarity and the room turned cold. "I offer my condolences," he said in a solemn tone, but he was celebrating deep down...
There was one less person to kill. One less obstacle.
"I offer my condolences too," she lowers her head, reminded of the news about Lady Rhea Royce. The death came across as a shock to everyone. "Don't be, I am positively bereft." he smirks, his voice vibrating along the table and sending shivers down her spine.
There was something strange about that man. Dark.
Her eyes turned elsewhere, almost tuning out all the noisy chatter. Her mind drifted off to her husband's cold body. Another member of her family lost to the worms.
—
Maegelle always had trouble sleeping. She could hear the wind from outside her room. Humming a song that she's forgotten. In a distant memory she remembers Vermithor singing to Silverning, she'd march to her great-grandsire's balcony to hear their love song.
She closes her eyes and leans on the rails of Queen Alyssane's chambers, though it had no trail of her anymore. Maegelle wonders what she would've done if she was left here after her great-grandsire's death. Would she clean their chambers or leave them dirty in the hopes of it having a piece of them laying around?
A piece of their hair, or a platter that they were unable to finish.
Is their piece of hair still a part of them when it has fallen on the ground?
Are the dead still part of you, when they have faded into memory?
She opens her eyes again, feeling a presence from behind her. "What are you doing?" She recognizes the voice to be Daemon's. "Why are you in your mother's chambers?" he questioned, his hands encasing her inside the balcony, his chest firmly pressed on her back. She felt like a young maiden once more, committed to something forbidden. "Right," she mumbled.
It was her mother's chambers now. Not Queen Alysanne's.
"I'm walking down a road of my past," she replied, unwilling to explain. If her memory served her correctly, Daemon was indifferent towards her. He saw her as a nuance, a blockade to power. "May I walk beside you?" he asked for her permission, she nodded – his body moves closer.
There was something addicting about his presence, like he was a forbidden fruit. She feels herself leaning into his touch willingly, the fire in their veins telling them that they were kin. Daemon's hands snaked atop the rails, until his elbows pressed on the sides of her waist. He breaths, now only realizing that he was holding his breath.
He didn't know how long this moment would last. He wanted to abuse it.
He rested his chin on her shoulders, hearing her breath quiver at the slight of his touch.
