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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Those few years she spent with Brandon Stark was euphoria. Every now and then, she would close her eyes and see his pale grey ones stare at her. He'd visit her in her dreams, tracing his hand on her thigh and whispering stories of old. And in her dreams, he was still alive — teaching his sons sword-fighting in Winterfell. She was the blood of Old Valyria, she wasn't meant to walk in the halls of western lords — yet here she was.
Tyland Lannister was a self-centered prick whose only personality was gold. He couldn't stop talking about his family's vast storage of gold and how rich they were. It was a tiresome affair and her father was forcing her to do it.
"Our mines have flowed with gold since the dawn of time," he ranted off and she sighs loudly.
Not once has this man looked in her direction. He was just staring at his reflection from the silver plate. There wasn't a reflective surface he didn't like. Tyland Lannister was vain — it seemed like his vanity had its own vanity.
"I'm sure there's more to our conversation than gold," she retorted sassily, trying to give him the hint that she wasn't interested. It was humiliating to see herself talking to him. He was shallow — and rather ugly. "What more is there?" he responded his eyes not taking a second off his face.
She rolls her eyes in a petulant manner. The man was as shallow as a puddle. "If you will excuse me," she gathered her things before standing up and taking her leave. There was no use talking to a man who only loved himself.
—
These past few months, her king has commanded her to speak to eligible lords, in an attempt to find her a suitable husband. It was her responsibility as the heir. She needed more children to secure her line. Maegelle knew that she must sate her father's worries, else he'd take it in his own hands and marry someone else. There were leeches on her father's throne, seeking to take the crown for their own benefit.
Marriage was terrifying, especially to a woman who wielded great power.
Wives have always been seen as puppets. The lucky lord that she'd marry would be seen as a king, in everything but name. Everyone would respect him, more than they respected her. She needed to choose wisely. Someone they feared and loved. Someone who could defend her.
"A dragon for your thoughts?" Daemon whispers in her ear as she jumps lightly from surprise. "What are you doing here?" she questioned, but it comes out sharper than expected. She didn't trust him anymore. He chuckles lightly before slumping down beside her.
The Rogue Prince was feared more than he was loved.
He's seen her escape the greedy grasps of her suitors. Sometimes running to the gardens or the library. But most of the time, she spent it in her father's solars — the only place they haven't checked yet.
