BOUND BY DUTY | daella targaryen | hotd fanfiction

III. gods and remorse

9th day of the ninth moon, 117AC

Daella tried to convince herself that her hatred and hopelessness were just the result of her exaggerated emotions. Maybe she really was just exaggerating all these years since her mother passed away.
'What anyone in Westeros would give for what I consider as suffering.' she whispered as she stood by the red tree of the Old Gods in the royal gardens.
'I should be grateful. I will have a family of my own and children who will never feel the hunger that the children in Flea Bottom have felt since they came into this world."
The young Princess looked at the red leaves blooming above her head.
'But they will be children of Hightower blood.' It was the harsh truth that the other side of her screamed out.
'Stop feeling sorry for yourself, you have everything every man and woman from Dorne to The Wall desires.' she looked away from the red tree. She argued with herself ever since she came out of her father's chambers.
She knelt down on the fresh grass next to the old tree and silently watched the face carved into the white root.
"If you decide this fate of mine, let it be as you wish." immediately after these words she whispered to the gods, the Princess looked down at the grass.
"But please, if you have even a little pity for me, bring at least a little happiness into my life." She felt guilty for those words.
For this wish that seemed so big. After all, she is of royal blood, her duty is only to give birth to royal children and not to complain.
She watched the old face for a while, asking herself if the Old Gods even existed. She wasn't even sure to which religion her devotion belonged to. From an early age, she was raised without gods around her. To her family, the Gods were the ancient entities of the lost Valyria who gave them dragons.
However, Daella was sure that there was something higher.
Something as breathtaking as dragons couldn't just be born. Whether it was magic or someone's power, it was there.
Her own spells were more or less a religion, but they didn't always help her. They didn't always listen to her.
The silence she devoted to higher forces was broken by slow steps that were louder with each step closer to her.
Daella turned, still slumped down on the ground, to see her uncle coming. She wondered how he managed to get a decent piece without her noticing, but after a second that thought flew out of her head.
Her uncle stopped right behind her, as Daella noticed, as she quickly stood up from the ground. She adjusted her pale pink dress and turned to him. Daemon had already a smile on his face.
Every day he was more surprised by her appearance. 'Rhaenyra taught her to dress superbly.' he thought as he looked at the dress that the Princess had adjusted.
"The Old Gods cannot hear us, Little Dragon. We are not of their blood." he said quietly.
"This is the only place I can imagine anyone listening to me." her voice was just as quiet as his with an added hint of sadness.
Daemon immediately looked for the cause of those words after her answer.
"What's bothering you?" he asked looking into her violet eyes.
Daella exhaled but said nothing. She didn't want to spoil this moment full of peace and harmony.
The young Princess ignored his question and instead gave him a quick glance, and slowly walked away from him.
She was heading to the tables under the gazebo, where the refreshments were.
Daella poured wine into both glasses before Daemon came under the gazebo behind her.
"I had a fight with my father, again." floated out of her after a long silence. Daemon sitting on the bench looked at the Princess, saying:
"My brother never took into account the opinions and feelings of the people next to him."
Daella wondered if Daemon knew who she was going to marry. 'Of course he doesn't know, otherwise he would already rage.' his hatred of the Hightowers was as great as hers.
"Well, it will be a marriage only for his prosperity." She took a sugar-coated lemon from the top of the lemon cake and ate it. The sweet taste of the coated sugar was contrasting with the sour of the lemon slice.
"After the wedding, I will see my husband only in bed, forced to do our duty." she added after taking a sip of wine.
Daemon grinned and drank as well.
"That's your plan? To fulfill your duty as quickly as possible?" he asked.
Daella slightly smiled and sat down on the couch next to him.
"Everybody takes marriage as something between two people, whether forced or wanted. I prefer to enjoy everything, after I finish my duty. People take marriages very religiously, they cannot imagine having more than one partner through the marriage. It's exactly the same as a lemon cake. It looks sweet on the outside, but after you bite into it, you can only feel the sour of the lemon."
Daemon laughed at her comparison of marriage to a lemon cake.
"But it's not a bad thing." was his only verbal response after laughing.
"Of course not. Sometimes the sourness is the most interesting part of the cake."
"So you prefer sourness?" he asked.
"I don't know, do I?" she looked ahead, questioning herself rather than him.
Daemon noticed that his question caught her by surprise.
After a long pause, Daemon replied, "No." following Daella who was still looking ahead at the red tree.
"You don't." he added.
His answer immediately brought her back to reality.
"I don't think the answer is no." she said back.
"Sourness can be both good and bad. You've lived through the bad side of life, Princess."
"But that doesn't mean I don't want to experience the fun, positive part of the sourness of life. The part full of risks." she said as she stood up from her seat. Daemon noticed her quick turn of thought. And tone of voice. She tried to strike the same tone he had. Daella placed the glass on the table and leaned against it.
"My father already found me a husband." she admitted. This unexpected announcement made him rise to his feet and place his glass next to hers.
"Who is it?"
Daella hesitated. She knew that as soon as she says the name, she will be not the only one being in bad terms with her father.
"Tell me."
Daemon knew something was wrong. He sensed it from the beginning of their conversation.
"Ser Gwayne Hightower. Alicent's brother." Daella looked down.
"Your father is forcing you to marry that green bitch's brother?"
Daella said nothing.
"You will not wed a Hightower." he will not allow such an insult to happen to his family a second time.
In the brief silence, only Daemon's breathing could be heard.
"Don't think I didn't try to convince him. The only thing I could get out of him was a reminder of my position in this family."
The calm energy that his niece brought him quickly left him. The only thing left was hatred and rage.
"I have no one to stand up for me." said the princess while searching for his eyes to see what was going on in his head. Daemon found his niece looking at him, waiting for him to say something.
"I will talk to your father."