"The blood of Lucerys will be repaid tenfold. A brother for a brother."
In which Daenys Velaryon, the oldest child of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Velaryon, must come to terms with the fact that the man she loves has committed an unforgivable crime...
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"So I'll just lie and dream of all the chances I've missed Of being in love with a girl who doesn't know I exist."
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Daenys Velaryon's steps echoed softly against the cold stone floors of Harrenhal's corridors as she paced restlessly, tension coiled in her shoulders like a loaded spring. Daemon was meant to be away, attending to matters of the realm, and he had entrusted her to remain within the confines of Harrenhal, a directive she begrudgingly obeyed, though every fibre of her being yearned to break free from the suffocating hold of confinement.
As she moved through the corridors, her body was taut with anticipation, her senses heightened to the slightest movement, to sounds she had been hearing too much of as of late. Her form was all rigid lines and tense muscles, and she was on edge. The supply on which she self-medicated was dwindling and she was unaware if the maesters of Harrenhal carried what she needed, only adding to her unease.
Her footsteps faltered as she neared Daemon's chambers, the sound of voices drifting faintly through the crack in the door. With cautious curiosity, she approached, her heart hammering in her chest as she peered through the narrow opening. Inside, a figure moved with purpose, their silhouette cast in shadow against the dimly lit room.
Daenys's breath caught in her throat as she watched the intruder, her mind racing with a flurry of questions and suspicions. She could still hear the smattering of voices, hushed in their whispers but the figure before her was utterly silent, engrossed in sifting through the stack of correspondence spread across Daemon's desk. It was a servant, based on his attire, skittish as his eyes darted around the room every now and then, but he seemed oblivious to her presence.
With a swift and silent motion, she stepped into the room, the soft creak of the door announcing her arrival. The intruder froze, their movements coming to an abrupt halt as he turned to face her, his expression a mask of surprise and uncertainty.
"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice ringing out with a steely resolve. "And what business do you have going through the Prince Consort's belongings?"
As the man before her struggled to form a response, Daenys's hand wandered to her sword, strapped to her waist as always. Then, as he opened his mouth to speak, a large black spider crawled out of the dull blonde curls at his neck and sauntered across her cheek.
Daenys flinched, and the man tensed, eyes cautiously watching as her grip on her sword's hilt tightened. He made no move to brush away the creature ambling on his face.
"I-I am sorry. I wasn't—"
"Why are you here?"
"The prince...he...he sent me to retrieve some papers."
