House Blackmount | Game of Thrones

chapter iv. dragon of the reach

Daenora II (POVO)

DAENORA BLACKMOUNT LAUGHED wildly as the ever-stiff Artos Stark swirled her about Highgarden's Court, his ever sullen look permanently residing upon his face.

"You know you should try smiling," Daenora teased light-heartedly, leaning in towards the wolf of Winterfell, "many a man would love to be swirling the beautiful Daenora Blackmount in their arms right now."

Looking around to see the many men of the Reach, eyes only for the stunning Valyrian, it was all too evident that that statement was true.

"It's Daenora Tyrell now, is it not?" The wolf replied, and Daenora scowled fiercely. Artos seemed to smile smugly at upsetting her, and so in return she stomped hard upon his foot.

He yelped; she smirked.

"I was born Daenora Blackmount and I had wished to die Daenora Blackmount. And no fat oaf of flowers is going to take that away from me."

Artos looked around the room in wary alarm at her words, before turning back to glower at her, "do not speak of such matters so loudly."

"Why," she challenged, before smiling at him, "would you miss me if I was imprisoned?"

He replied hotly, "no. But I would miss my own freedom should I be imprisoned alongside you."

Daenora waved a hand dismissingly at his words, "well looks like the choice had been being locked up on your own at the Aegonfort, or being locked up with me in the Highgarden. I wonder, young wolf, which you would have chose?"

"Pardon?" He inquired, brows knit together. Daenora thought that he looked rather adorable like that. "What do you mean locked up at the Aegonfort?"

Daenora rolled her eyes and the dance demanded he twirl her once more before she answered, "you are the Heir to Winterfell, you can't have possibly believed that Aegon would have just left you alone to possibly rebel with the forces your father didn't use. He would have locked you in the Aegonfort, or at least had you live there as a prisoner in all but name, had I not been there to ask you to be my personal guard."

"Should I be thanking you?" The oldest of the Starks bit out sarcastically, causing Daenora to frown at him.

"Yes. But so long as you keep your gob shut about who I'm fucking and when I'll take that as your thank you," she told him crudely, almost laughing at his flinch at her less than lady like language.

"It's Jeramin Hightower tonight, is it not?"

"Aw, Starkie, you keep my schedule."

And with that, Daenora twirled off into the arms of another man - and to her upmost contempt it was the leering Theo Tyrell that caught her.

He was a clumsy dancer, unlike her snarky wolf, and had far too much liberties with his hands in her opinion. Not caring what the other nobles thought, she grabbed his hand from her ass to put it higher on her back with a frown.

She'd never like this Tyrell boy, she knew, not only because he was a stupid, clumsy oaf but also because Aegon had chosen him for her. He had taken away her choices.