wicked games | aemond targaryen

𝚝𝚠𝚘

VALAENA SCOWLED AT her reflection, shifting uncomfortably as she tugged at the sleeves of her dress. The fabric scratched against her skin like a thousand needles, a reminder that she didn't belong there. She missed the oversized trousers that allowed her to run freely throughout the streets instead of being trapped in a dress that barely allowed her to take a small step. 

You look unhappy," Daemon's voice prompted the young girl to glance over her shoulder, where her father was leisurely leaning against the doorframe as he took in her angry scowl. "Do you not like the dress?"

"I want my trousers," Valaena huffed as she crossed her arms, turning back to face the mirrors as she continued to tug at the sleeves. Daemon released a sigh, unsurprised by the stubbornness that she seemed to have inherited from him.

"We talked about this," Daemon reminded her, his lips quirking slightly upward at the pout that made its way onto her face.

"You talked about it," Valaena muttered under breath as she listened to her father release a short laugh at her words.

"You can't run around the Red Keep in trousers," Daemon reminded her for what seemed like the millionth time. "That's not how things are done here."

"Maybe it's how things should be done," Valaena retorted as she eyed her father in the mirror, watching him roll his eyes playfully at her.

"You can talk about that with my brother, your uncle," Daemon emphasized as she suddenly felt herself grow nervous at the reminder. "Who you should make a very good impression on today so that he lets us stay."

"So he lets you say, you mean," Valaena was quick to shoot back. "You're the one he's about to exile again."

"You're too smart for your own good," Daemon smirked at his daughter, who released a small humph but otherwise remained quiet, something her father could see through all too well despite only meeting her a week prior. "You shouldn't be nervous."

"I'm not nervous," Valaena snapped back angrily, watching the way her father raised his eyebrow in disbelief. There was a brief pause before she released a small sigh as she nervously fiddled with her hands. "It's just, well, what if he doesn't like me."

"Don't be ridiculous," Daemon shook his head as he walked up to where Valaena stood, gently turning her around to face him as their eyes met. "My brother would be a fool not to like you, just like I did when I met you."

Valeana felt her cheeks warm as she shrunk under his intense gaze, purple eyes seemingly looking past her and into her soul.

"Do you think he'd let me stay?"

There it was again, the reminder that Valaena was only a small child who was orphaned with no family or home to go to. It tugged at the back of her mind constantly since Daemon found her, wondering when the other shoe would drop and he would send her back to Flea Bottom with nothing but a broken heart. Having a father seemed like such a foreign concept, one she was still struggling to wrap her mind around.

Daemon had done nothing to warrant the weariness Valaena gave him. Ever since he brought her back to the Red Keep through the back passageways over a week ago, he had been adamant on spending every day getting to know her. He didn't care that she was a bastard, or that she grew up on the streets of Flea Bottom. He seemed only to care that she was his daughter, his first-born child, and that was all that mattered.

"I think it shouldn't matter whether he lets you stay or not," her eyes snapped back up to meet her father's, confusion flashing across her face as he continued. "It just means we can fly out of this dreadful place on Caraxes and travel wherever our hearts desire. That sounds like fun, doesn't it?"