Royal Salvation [Game of Thrones]

Chapter II - The Last Dragon

Fire and Blood

Daeron Targaryen POV

Daeron followed Margery dutifully, his armour scintillating against the harsh rays of illumination. The bright light obscured his view slightly, encouraging a firm hand to grasp his sword.

"It's so good of you to visit me, and my foolish flock of hens." Daeron fought back a chuckle, a fond smile observing the Lady Oleanna, watching the matriarch earnestly.

He stood stoically, steel scraping the wall arduously, as he pondered. "Oh Daeron do sit, I grow tired of your looming presence."

Daeron grinned wolfishly, the scraping of his chair echoing the vibrant atmosphere.

"And now, I want you to tell me the truth about this royal boy, this Joffrey." Daeron observed Sansa's nervous nature, the skittish terrified look swarming her complexion, plaguing dull eyes drained of innocence.

"I...I." She stuttered to answer before Lady Oleanna interrupted, ever impatient,

"You, you, who else would know better."

She afraid of him, of all of them. What have they done to her, to garner such fear. A girl of such innocence, a wolf now cowering.

Veins protruded his hands prominently, at the fervent force he clutched wood.

"We've heard some troubling tales, is there any truth to them? Has this boy mistreated you? Has he ripped out your tongue?" Oleanna patience wore thin as Sansa basked in the safety of silence,

"Joff- King Joffrey, he- his grace is fair and handsome, and as brave as a lion." Oleanna concealed a scoff softly, silently,

"Yes all Lannisters are lions, and when a Tyrell farts it smells of roses. But how kind is he? How clever? Has he a good heart, a gentle hand?" Margery gently spoke, softly as to not further distress the Stark girl, trembling as she sat,

"I am to be his wife, I only want to know what that means." Daeron grumbled to himself shielded by an armoured hand,

"Are you frightened child? No need for that we are only women here, and Ser Daeron if you count silent observers. Tell us the truth, no harm will come to you." The guard nodded silently his gruff voice echoing,

"You have my word, My Lady, no harm will befall you." Oleanna nodded satisfied, watching Daeron's stiff posture with curiosity,

"My father always told the truth." Daeron observed Sansa as she spoke regarding her father, the grief in her eyes still present as she sadly reminisced.

"Yes he had that reputation, and they named him traitor and took his head." Daeron's eyes flickered toward Lady Oleanna his expression stoic, however his eyes betrayed him, pools of unspoken thoughts, chastised her,

"Joffrey, Joffrey did that, he promised he would be merciful and he cut my fathers head off, and he said that was mercy. And then he took me up on the walls and made me look at it." Her words were harsh irredeemably so, and it coaxed an unspoken anger from the Knight.

"Go on." Margery spoke softly attempting to coax further admissions.

"I-I can't, I never meant, my father was a traitor, my brother as well, I have traitors blood, please don't make me say anymore." Tears clouded her eyes, a melancholy atmosphere erupting amongst the group.

"She's terrified Grandmother, just look at her." Daeron's sympathetic gaze travelled Sansa's figure, as he listened to the fear deep from her words.

"Speak freely child, we would never betray your confidence I swear it." Oleanna spoke with conviction,

"He's a monster." Her voice trembled as she spoke, the fear overwhelming.

I'll kill him.

"Ah, that's a pity." The mood become sombre, Margery and Oleanna seeming submissive to the idea of Joffrey's monstrosity.

"Please don't stop the wedding." She sounded desperate, desperate to be spared of the tragedy that would come from a marriage to the Lannister boy.

Daeron rose suddenly, without a word, walking past mewling women, when he reached an opening, stripping of his armour. The weight of forged steel grinding against itself echoing emphatically amongst the raging silence. His sword hung loosely in his hand the blows filling the silence.

~~~~~~~~~~

"I didn't mean to disturb you." Margery spoke gently, cunningly as Daeron followed dutifully, listening to the idle gossip the two shared.

He remained dissociated for the majority until Margery turned to address him, "Sir Daeron, if you would please escort Lady Sansa, I have an appointment with the King and your services shan't be needed until later this evening." Daeron nodded silently offering a steel arm for the Lady,

"Of course my Lady." Margery nodded her eyes holding an unspoken agreement.

Protect Sansa.

"Ser Daeron, how rude of me I don't believe we've been properly introduced." Daeron smiled politely a crimson blush mauled at his throat,

"Your apology is unnecessary my Lady, you've been predisposed, I am sorry to hear of your losses, from what I knew of him your father was an honourable man." Sansa nodded a clear glaze encasing her eyes,

"Your sympathies are appreciated Ser, but my father was a traitor-," Daeron interrupted Sansa's rambling, his gruff voice firm, assured in its notion,

"Your father was an honourable man, Sansa, anything else is irrelevant, he was a good man, and now he's at rest, my Lady. Remember that, it's what will aid you to sleep at night." Sansa nodded silently, her digits grasping Daeron's arm tighter in her grief.

~~~~~~~~~~

"I've never seen such a splendid fighter." Margery giggled quietly, pointing callously to her guard, a man stood stoically, his armour radiating amongst the harsh rays of light, 

"Loras is good yes, but Daeron, he is a splendid fighter, I've seen him take defeat five other armed men while training, unarmed." The northern girl gazed at the gruff man, his face void of emotive devices,

"In fact, Loras!" The young Lord scampered to his sisters cry,

"Yes Margery?" Margery giggled quietly, a mischievous undertone glistening in her eyes,

"I believe Ser Daeron is in need of light training, if you'd be so kind." Loras nodded with a thin smile, bowing stiffly, eyes scowling at his sister,

"Ser Daeron, if you would please show Lady Sansa, a splendid fighter."