Forget - me - not

Uh - oh

The wind sighed through the trees and the galloping sound of hooves thudding echoed through the woodlands.

Daena rode a horse called lady. Her coat was black and it shined with the river as the two raced with the current. The mares tale was raised and her hooves pranced in the mud, the speed in which they moved was nothing compared to a dragon but something a humans legs could never comprehend.

The princess held a bow and shot the arrows at the targets placed in tress, bushes and raspberry infected brambles. Never missing once.

Her hair was tied back with no fancy braids or jewel's intertwining as the girl had woken up earlier than any of the servants just so she could go on a ride without someone following close behind.

She had become so great at the art of escaping the castle that she had never been caught. Daena would sneak out every Friday, as that was the day the ships would port, and would make her way into her usual tavern to dance and drink. The people of kingslanding grew to like her. Did they trust her? No. But she would buy them drinks, so they quickly excepted her.

As she arrived back at the castle she dismounted the mare at the training ground where sir Criston Cole stood, sword in hand with his usual stern, cold expression.

"Where have you been?" He spoke.

"Ive been for a ride on lady."

"Thats the fastest horse in all of Westeros and you've still managed to be late to your lesson."

The secret and cold nights in the hidden tunnels throughout the castle were over. Alicent had finally found out and caved in. Her father, Otto Hightower, had not been there to 'guide' her decision as he was overseas, that had led us to whispers and upturned noses at Daena by the people in the castle as she paraded in her pants and swung her sword.

"Well i am here now." She smiled, raising her arms.

"Yes, you are here now.'"Her said rolling his eyes whilst passing her a sword.

The girls mind was distant from the present, as usual, and lost her footing. Making Sir Criston the winner of their contest.

"If you wish to actually become good, maybe focus. A task i know you find difficult." The man grumbled.

Sir Criston had known Daena since birth but no one, not even himself understood why he felt the need to release his anger out on the girl. Maybe it was because she would always fight back and gave him some competition or because he reviled in the sense of danger as he was challenging a princess.

Daena didn't respond, as his words hadn't gotten to a point for her to snap. She had became patient with the sly insults from men as she realised if she fought them all she would run out of breath.

The two exchanged blows for what seemed like ages, when one would become close to winning the other would release a hidden strength, as the pair shared a strive for winning. The moment had come where the knight had lost his footing and the girl saw the chance and took it. She used her sword to disarm him and held the blade to his throat. He put his hands up in defeat.

When the girl put down her sword she smiled at the man, expecting a face of approval and proudness but instead she was joined with a look of disgust.

Sir Criston looked around the grounds and grabbed the girl's arm as he spoke, "You embarrassed yourself and your mother enough to be able to train here today. But to humiliate her even further with your attire and boyish behaviour is nothing far from pure shame."

Daena was enraged at the comment and her mouth foamed with words of seething and hostile venom.

"Id be careful next time you decide to grab and spit your opinions in a women's face nevertheless a princesses." She spat. "You have done well in training me sir Criston but if your feelings and emotions dare to slip out of your mouth again, you would be lucky to sail back to dorne with your tongue in tact."