Ruin Me

Chapter Fourteen

(A/N: This chapter contains triggering topics such as SA. Please skip over this if you are uncomfortable with it.)

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Daenyra had stood. She had stood silently, like nothing more than a foot soldier waiting for their next orders. She stood motionless, barely doing much more than blinking and breathing as she watched the wedding before her.

Her sister stood in her white dress with her ceremonial cloak draped over her shoulders as she stood before Laenor. The boy had a swollen nose that he dabbed at with a white square of cloth, another parting gift from Ser Criston.

The enraged king commanded that they be wed immediately as a sign of unity after the chaos. Both of them were in tears. Both of them were reluctant. Yet, both of them still agreed. Both of them still went on with it.

And just before her father collapsed, he had turned to his secondborn and said, "You will marry before the next moon. As Rhaenyra has done, so will you. You will marry Bathaeon Greyjoy. You will secure our alliance with the Iron Islands, preventing them from siding with Dorne and the Triarchy. And the Targaryens will command the largest fleet in the world."

Daenyra had just taken another breath, her mask staying on as she was unable to feel anything at all. "Yes, Father."

She had stood again, motionless, before her looking glass, still in her dress that was slightly blood-covered. Oldtown had apologised for the man who tried to kill the Princesses but ensured that he had acted on his own and not on their Lord's orders. Daenyra did not believe that for a second but they had no proof to the contrary. 

"Dae! Dae, I just heard. I will speak to Father and –"

"Still haven't learned to knock, have we, Lady Velaryon?" she said as she lifted up her skirts and turned around.

"Daenyra?" Rhaenyra asked, worried about her sister as she watched her slowly begin to remove her jewellery. "Are you alright? Was it the banquet? Or your betrothal?"

"I am not upset about the fact that your former paramour just killed the paramour of your husband in front of a few hundred guests. I am not upset that our father wants me to marry a man who is older than he is. I am merely attempting to digest the information," she replied as she slid the rings from her fingers and undid the bracelets from her wrists.

"How can you be so calm about this? Let me speak to Father! I can –"

"Shouldn't you be back with your husband, consummating your marriage as I will be in a moon's time?"

"Dae, I can –"

"This is not something that you can fix, Rhaenyra!" Daenyra screamed, her mask finally breaking as it always did behind closed doors. "There are some things that even being the heir to Seven Kingdoms can't fix. This is one of them. You are always complaining to me about your burdens as heir, well a political marriage has always been one of my burdens!"

"I know," Rhaenyra replied, her heart breaking at the sight of the tears welling in her sister's eyes. "I know I may not act like it, but I know, sister. So, please, allow me to at least try and –"

"Then please!" Daenyra spat loudly. "You say you want to fix it, so please, sister, I beg of you to tell me who I could marry instead. Because I too, have been wracking my brain to try and solve such a problem and there is no solution to it – in fact, this has been a problem I have been prepared to face for some time now. Laenor was perhaps the only lord our age. Every other lord from here to The Wall or here to Sunspear is either too old or too young. Not to mention the fact that there is no marriage more advantageous to our father than selling me off to Bathaeon. This way he ensures that the Iron Islands will remain loyal because even he knows that the Triarchy is an ongoing problem. He would not go back on his word even if it was for a suitor I dared to love. So please, Rhaenyra, if there is a solution, tell it to me."