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chapter eight boy of sun, girls of songs and dreams.
The Red Keep, Kings landing. 126 AC.
The Sept had always been a safe space for Daella Targaryen. She could remember moments from when she was a mere girl when her mother would take her to light a candle — back then she would only wish for one thing, new melodies to float into her mind.
In the days leading up to her wedding, Daella often wondered how her mother had felt on her own special day.
She must have been scared, Daella concluded. She felt fortunate to know her soon-to-be husband, having shared the same womb, unlike her mother, who hadn't known the King as well
On the day of the wedding, the Sept was brighter than usual, with extra candles illuminating the space to mark the unusual union. The marriage of siblings was often met with disapproval, and the marriage of three even more so.
Inside the Sept, two banners of House Targaryen flanked a platform where the three siblings stood, septons by their sides.
Before them were many unfamiliar faces, only a few stuck out to her. Alicent Hightower stood beside her King and Husband in one of her green dresses, though the beds of her nails were stained a metallic red.
Aemond Targaryen, who had only lost his eye a few moons prior, stood with an eye patch. His fist scrunched the whole ceremony.
Daella wore an ivory gown with gold details on the bodice and skirt, along with touches of green and purple on the sleeves and throughout the dress. The gown was long, its hem trailing on the floor of the Sept.
Over her gown sat her Maiden cloak, which was a fine colour of green with the Hightower sigil stitched on it, though the colours only sat on her shoulders for a few moments before Targaryen red.
The top half of her hair had been slicked back and pulled into two buns on either side of her head, adorned with golden flowers despite her mother's initial objections.
The Septon tied their hands together, and Daella could feel Aegon's sweaty hand against her cold one.
"Mother, Father, Warrior. Smith, Maiden, Crone." the Septon intoned. None of the three siblings truly listened. Daella kept her head down, fiddling with a custom snake ring that Aegon had gifted her that morning while biting down her lip.
Daella and Helaena were no fools. They understood their duties and the purpose of their marriage to Aegon.
Westeros, the only home Daella had ever known, was not a place to kneel to women. For it was the women's job to bend their knees — to bare babes in their bellies for their men.
