HĀROS BARTOSSI | DAEMON T.

[ 𝟎𝟑 ]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 - 𝐓𝐇𝐄 '𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐘' 𝐃𝐔𝐄𝐋

── •✧• ── ⋆⋅༻✦༺⋅⋆ ── •✧• ──

The hours were late but the moon was brilliantly gleaming in the dark canvas of the skies above Driftmark, painted with dots of stars. The grounds of High Tide were void of life and not a single servant or guard was spotted in sight. It was as though the Lord of the castle had ordered them to hide until morning arrived, fearing a mysterious monster who dwelled at night would devour the lives of his people. All except his family.

Upon the suggestion proposed by Prince Daemon, Maevys got ready at the pinnacle of the night for a duel with him. Should she win against him, she would then be allowed to join the battle to fight for her family and house as she wished. Even though it was foretold that she would lose, the Velaryon bastard daughter refused to cower from the challenge. It would serve her a great experience, and if there was one thing that she would no doubt gain besides a loss, it would be the recognition from her father.

In truth, Maevys always wanted Corlys to accept her strength besides her beauty, kindness and gentleness. There was more to her that she always wanted to show but had fettered. She wanted him to acknowledge her as someone who was just as competent to fight as the rest of their soldier. She wanted him to know that despite being a woman, she was just as brave, capable and fierce as any man. Therefore, when Daemon offered her the chance to spar with him, it was like she had gained a stroke of luck and her opportunity came sooner than she realized.

It was unexpected, but she was always prepared. Rhaenys, her mother, had always reminded her that she ought to be ready whenever she could— that she should never laze or assume that she would have everything forever. The moment someone believed that they had it all, the gods and the fates would find a way to reap all the luxuries away.

Maevys understood her place and where she truly belonged since when she was a child. She had seen it all, heard it from the whispers, and felt it in the gaze in her direction. She was young, but she grasped quickly that she needed some leverage and strength so she would not be cast aside. Even though she had her mother's Targaryen beauty, looks can only get her so far. It was the skills she needed to hone and perfect, the ability not just to charm with her appearance but also demonstrate what she was capable of with her hands, and what her petite frame had concealed.

The words Rhaenys spoke to her were etched deeply in Maevys's mind till the present day. 'Built yourself from the ashes when you are nothing, and fill what you lack with important skills that could benefit you even when you are deprived of everything,' that was what her mother told her when she was first introduced to the Velaryon family. It was to face all the fears in life valiantly and with dignity.

Be a small sturdy flame, not too small to be snuffed by wind, but enough to blaze uncontrollably with just one single touch.

Maevys descended the flight of stairs of High Tide, she had changed out of her dress and adorned a simple tunic and trousers with boots. It was casual attire to wear in the presence of a royal member of the realm but seeing how Daemon had too peeled some of his ornaments away, it was only fitting. At least her flowy skirt and sleeves would not impair her movements.

Her long silver hair was braided and pinned up by a hair stick made from a tooth of a dragon and her signature style of having one lock of braid was dangling down the side of her face.

She stretched her wrists and shook her hands when her foot touched the pebbled ground, ridding of the nerves stiffening her body up. Her attention settled on her two younger siblings who had woken up.