THE LADY - Jacaerys Velaryon

i. Wanted.

     HER AUNT HAD always hated the Targaryens. Whether it was because she had been raised to despise the beast riding incestuals, or, whether it be the fact Cyrelle Lannister had never had a positive interaction with a single Targaryen since she was five and ten years old.

     Her niece, so naïve and curious, had never understood the large distaste she held for the white haired beauties. She had heard much about the Targaryens from her aunt, none of it being positive. But, Daella always tried to see the true Targaryens.

     The Targaryens, like Visenya and Rhaenys, Aegon's sister wives. The two women were admired greatly by the young Tyrell girl. She always liked to think of Rhaena Targaryen, who was forced to marry men she didn't desire. Rhaena reminded her much of her aunt in that area.

      Alyssa and Alysanne Targaryen, Viserra Targaryen, Daella admired them immensely to the point she had dressed up like them when she was a toddler, babbling around Highgarden with a white wig and red dresses draping her body.

     And, although Daella had heard very little of her, Aemma Targaryen. She didn't truly know why, but she believed in a sense Aemma reminded her of her own mother.

     Oh, and how deeply Daella loved her mother.

     She believed she would never see a Targaryen, or even meet one. But, when her aunt came stomping into her room, a letter grasped in her hands saying they had been invited to go to the Red Keep in celebration of Prince Daeron's one and ten name day.

     "You do know why we were invited don't you?" Cyrelle asked her dear niece as she leant back into the plush seats of the carriage, a cake coddled in her palm. The Lannister woman stared down at her niece a slight glimpse of worry in her eyes.

     She watched as her niece fiddled with her fingers, picking at the skin around her nails or twiddling her fingers together to distract her from the feeling of sickness she was experiencing from the journey.

     Slowly, Daella shook her head. Looking up with doe eyes, swallowing heavily and meeting the sharp, fox eyes of her aunt.

     Daella listened to the whispers in Highgarden and Casterley Rock, how her 'viscous' aunt was once sweet and kind. The beacon in the south, they named her.

     In deep truth, Daella had never caught a glimpse of this viscousness, her aunt was far from horrible. Instead she was calculating, a 'witty widow' drunken men call her in the streets. She knew how to deal with men, she knew how to deal with court to get her want.

     Her aunt was the woman Daella hoped she became in the future, even if it was only half of her.

     "No, no I don't." She replied softly. Cyrelle reached forward, grasping her niece's hands and staring at her with a comforting look. "You must stop that." Cyrelle gently chastised, only releasing her hands when Daella nodded once more.

     "We are invited to the Red Keep for such a glorious occasion is because, you, my darling, darling flower. Are... wanted." Cyrelle had dreaded the day people would start asking for Daella's hand in marriage.

     Even after only being her ward for the past five years, Cyrelle was not ready to hand her off to someone, let alone a man. Daella wasn't even her child, she was her sister's daughter, and what if she disappointed her darling sister by handing her off to some buffoon who's only wish was the place babes in her belly and fuck the whores in brothels until the end of his days.

     Cyrelle would rather let the carriage horses trot all over her in her new gown then allow that to happen.

     "W-wanted? Why, I haven't committed any crimes?" Cluelessly, the Tyrell girl stared at her aunt in worry, fearing she had committed a heinous crime without realising.

     Cyrelle chuckled. "No, darling, you are wanted...for marriage."

     "M-marriage?" Daella stuttered, eyes wide and horrified.

     Marriage? Surely men didn't want to marry her yet, she wasn't even one and ten yet...but, in a few years she would be classed as of age, so this wouldn't be marriage, a betrothal of sorts. But even then, being chained for the next few years of her life for a lord she had only met once, never being able to experience true love.

     A fate Daella knew she must accept. But who would want to accept such a treacherous future?

     "Yes, marriage." Cyrelle answered, knowing the thoughts running through her head. "But, that will not be for a long time, for now... you can scope out the meat, like men do with us ladies." Her aunt stated, licking her fingers after finishing her cake.

     "But, I am a lady, aren't I supposed to secure a proposal now?"

     "In theory, yes. But, as you stated you're a lady, heir to Highgarden, you have more of a rank than most men in that room will have, you have the power, my dear." The Lannister lady sighed, now her perfectly manicured fingers traced the gold linen of her dress, trailing the intricate designs in the red fabric.

     "And you are not to marry without love, I simply won't allow it." The stubbornness the woman held was unmatchable. Daella didn't know how she was able to do it, the girl would cave at a simple command.

     "B-but you married without love." Daella said without realising, wincing when she heard the words come out of her mouth.

     "Yes, I did, and now I'm a widow and my husbands are buried in the trampled ground covered in dirt and I'm here dressed in gold and eating cake."

     "That does not sound so torturous." Daella smiled slightly when she watched her aunt laugh loudly, throwing her head back as she looked at the girl fondly.

     Daella loved being looked like that. Not many had given her the look of fondness.

     "No, your right it's not. But it's lonely, most of the time that is." Daella had forgotten, before Cyrelle had became her permanent ward, she had spent two years alone in Casterley Rock with her father and brothers, who were nothing but boring measles who are looking for a good fuck, her aunt had so kindly put.

     "Oh...yes, yes of course."

     Silence engulfed them. Daella becoming entrapped in her never ending thoughts of self doubt and endless inner rambles that didn't make sense half of the time. And Cyrelle sat stilly, watching her niece mumble to herself nervously messing with anything she could get her hands on.

     Cyrelle sighed. "You look beautiful, little flower." She admired the soft pink gown Daella adorned, the sleeves passing her wrists, making the fabric ripple down, the neckline was scattered with gold accents sewn around it. Her auburn hair had been pulled up into an intricate curly, braided bun, and she was bathed in jewels.

     From a pink diamond necklace with a gold chain, to an adornment of various rings that scattered her twiddling fingers. Daella looked like royalty, to Cyrelle, she always had.

     That is something Cyrelle had always envied her sister for, her natural beauty. Not like Cyrelle who spent nearly three hours getting ready, her younger sister used to take a matter of minutes.

     "Thank you, dear aunt, you do also."

     As Cyrelle looked done at her she couldn't help but feel the song in her heart as she looked at her niece. Physically, she was just like her father, auburn, tan and effortlessly gorgeous. Mentally, she was exactly like her mother; curious, adventurers, terribly naïve.

     And as Cyrelle watched her grow and bloom and become more beautiful as the days went on, she couldn't help but feel her fear grow with it.