Daeron the Defiant: A Second Dance of Dragons

Daeron:

To Mace Tyrell,

I'm writing to inform you that I've…

Daeron stopped when he heard a sound. He looked over his shoulder to see Mina was readjusting under the blankets of the bed, but still looked to be asleep. He couldn't help but smile as he admired her form, even after all these mornings together, he still couldn't get use to this sight.

Satisfied, that she wouldn't wake, Daeron turned his attention back to the letter he tried to draft. This was not his first attempt, he had lost count at how many he had begun these past few days. Even now in the early morning light, he wasn't certain of this approach. He cared for her, but they had agreed not to seek a betrothal between them.

However circumstances were beginning to creep up towards him now that he was so near to his ten and six name day. Families were approaching and inquiring about his marital status as if just discovering his existence now that his older brother was married. Daeron was nearly a man grown who'd be able to make his own choice, but until then that responsibility rested in his father's hands. He was no fool in thinking that once he was a man grown that he'd be free to chose who he wished to marry. He knew he needed the Crown's blessing. He knew that he'd be used as a pawn to further his father's plans regardless of Daeron's age or consent.

I am chained to the schemes and caged in the plots of my family and the Crown.

It was with these disquieting thoughts and revelations that urged him to consider putting aside his agreement with Mina and seek her hand in marriage. A selfish solution, he knew, but one that became more tempting the longer he remained unattached and the target of familes' ambitions.

Wasn't it better to marry a friend than a stranger?

He turned back to his letter to the Lord of Highgarden and Mina's brother, Mace Tyrell.

To Mace Tyrell,

I'm writing to inform you that I've grown fond of your sister in the short time I've come to know her during her unexpected visit to Sunspear. That is why I find myself writing to you to broach the subject of a possible betrothal between myself and your lovely sister, the Lady Mina Tyrell.

He read it over, and when he finished, he rolled it up but he put it into the flickering flame of the candle that was beside him.

While he watched it burn, he imagined the answer her brother would've given, but then he heard the answer she'd tell him. It was a disappointment he didn't want to confront so he enjoyed it for what it was-a distraction.

"Morning," she stirred from her sleep.

"Morning," he replied in turn, his eyes on the flame that burned away any evidence of his momentary weakness and lapse of judgment. Satisfied, that it was gone, he turned to see she was sitting up. Her honey curls were a dangling mess falling over her face. Her silk shift was a pale green that seemed to only accentuate her curves.

She took a vial that had been in one of the drawers by her nightstand, opening it and drinking its contents in a one sip. When she emptied it, her eyes found him, even the early morning couldn't dim the light in her laughing blue eyes. "To prevent any Blackfyres," she quipped, putting away the vial.

"Are you hungry?"

"I have other thoughts for sating my appetite," she purred when she reached him, her breath tickled his ear, her sultry tone stirring Daeron's own hunger . She then leaned over him, aware of how her body touched his as she grabbed an apple from the bowl.

It was tempting. His body was already betraying him, reacting to her beauty and her touches. However, he knew he shouldn't, he couldn't. Daeron had to return to his chambers before the servants or his guards discovered he wasn't there.

Before he could give her a proper reply, she spoke again.

"What is it that you were doing?"

The change in her tone caused him to frown. He looked to see her alert blue eyes were looking down at the scraps of parchment, he had spread out before him. "I was writing."

"To who?" The suspicion in her voice was palpable.

In the heartbeat of silence that it took him to answer, he debated on whether to lie or not before settling on the truth, "Your brother."

"My brother," she repeated, dismay flickered across her expression, "You were writing to him about a betrothal."

"I was," Daeron stood up. "But I didn't send it. I have not forgotten our agreement."

That seemed to placate some of her temper that looked to be storming behind her blue eyes, "Then why did you write it?"

"Because if I am to be wed then I'd rather be wed to you then some stranger."

"Do you think we'd be happy?"

"Yes."

She smiled at him, but it was a sad smile, her eyes shone with sympathy. "We wouldn't," she said softly.

"My brother would poison what we have, what we cherish," she took his hand in hers, "Don't you see what you'd be to him? You'd be his prized possession. His dragon on display. How he'd love to parade you out at feasts and tourneys so that all the lords could see you. You'd be no better than those dancing bears that the smallfolk love so much," her lips curled in disgust at what she envisioned for them.

"Soon, my brother's ambition wouldn't be sated with just having a good brother as a Targaryen. No he'd turn to our children and wonder at how they'd look upon the Iron Throne instead of Rhaegar's." She shook her head, eyes wet with tears. "I love my brother, but I care too much for you to let my brother's ambition reach us," She bowed her head, "You deserve better than that, my prince."

Daeron mulled her words in silence, finding it difficult to poke past her reasoning. He didn't know Lord Tyrell, so how could he argue against his own sister when it came to knowing the man's heart and intentions. "I understand," He wasn't sure what else to say, and those words alone tasted just as bitter as the rejection he just faced.

"I'm sorry," she ran her hand over his cheek, blue eyes glistening, before she turned away and took a breath to compose herself. "This day has not been kind to you, my prince," she said softly, "And it's only just begun," her laugh that followed sounded more a hiccup than a chuckle.

"It started well enough," he assured her, his hands resting on her hips as her back remained to him.

She laughed, and this time it pealed with mirth, and when she looked over her shoulder, there was no trace of tears. Her eyes shined and her lips formed that impish smirk which he enjoyed so much. "How did it start again, my prince?"

He smiled at her mischievous tone, "I'll show you."

"Your friend knows."

Daeron looked up from his meal, not entirely surprised to see Lady Mina had invited herself into his chambers. She was standing where the discrete entryway was. Oberyn had given them rooms where it'd be easy for them to slip back and forth without guards or chaperones being any wiser.

He had just returned from the training yard after a tiring morning routine with Ser Gwayne. "Please, join me," he stood up to greet her, "It isn't much. I only told them to prepare for one." It was a light course of fruit and bread with some wine.

"Thank you," she flashed him a smile as she moved to sit across from him. "Did you tell your friend?"

"I didn't." It had been a challenge not to tell Jaime, but Daeron thought it the wisest choice.

"He was staring at me the whole night," She popped a grape into her mouth.

"Mayhaps, he was mesmerized by your beauty," Daeron offered.

"In front of his betrothed?" She challenged, but the playful smile on her lips revealed that she was flattered by his words, "The lion would never shy away from his princess."

Daeron chuckled, agreeing with her observation. "I shall speak with him," he hoped Jaime would understand. "To see if you are right," he added when he noticed she was about to object.

"I am right," she said pointedly, but the teasing hue in her eyes belayed her tone.

"Of course, my lady," he bowed, feigning deference which earned a laugh from his paramour.

The mirth didn't last, her smile dipped and her eyes lost some of the spark that had just been present. "I fear I need to tell you something, my prince," her tone was somber, "I am leaving for Highgarden in a few days."

Daeron frowned, he knew they couldn't hide away in Dorne forever despite the temptations, "I expected as much."

"It isn't that, my prince," her soft solemn words broke through, "I received a raven from my brother this morning. I am betrothed."

The strawberry that had been in his hand had been instinctively crushed. "I see," he wiped away the residue of the crushed fruit from his hands and table. "We knew this day would come." He struggled to maintain his stoicism at this reeling revelation.

"We did." Her voice was tight.

He looked anywhere but her. Daeron worried how his will would crumple if he was to look upon her. He busied himself with his meal, cutting up bread. "Is it a good match?" His throat felt as dry as the Dornish desert.

"It's Lord Paxter Redwyne."

"That is a very good match," he observed. Paxter Redwyne was the Lord of the Arbor. He controlled the largest fleet in Westeros and their wines made the family one of the wealthiest in the Seven Kingdoms.

"It is," she repeated quietly.

"I wish you and your groom nothing but good fortune and happiness."

"Look at me."

He wanted to refuse her request. He should've demanded that she leave, but he didn't. He looked to see her face wrought with concern, "Do not be so formal with me." There was a pleading look in her blue eyes.

"You are betrothed. It would be improper."

"You sound as if I came into your bed a blushing maiden," she laughed at that, "We cannot undo what we did, nor would I chose to," she admitted, "I doubt he'll expect the sheets to be red."

"And if he does?"

She shrugged, undeterred, "I've been riding for years," Her lips curved into an impish smile when she added, "But only recently has it been dragons."

Daeron laughed at her boldness. He found his anger fleeting in the face of her beauty, in the allure of her company. Despite his thoughts of her newly announced betrothal, he couldn't deny his own more selfish and base feelings that were louder than all the others. He couldn't turn her away with her remaining time being so brief. So it was to his primal needs he gave into instead of the polished ones expected from a prince.

Jaime:

"Are you watching, Uncle Jaime?"

"I am," he assured his future nieces. They were running and playing in a nearby fountain with Tyrion between them. He chuckled when Arianne and Obara began performing some sort of spinning contest with Tyrion clumsily trying to stay out of their way, while still remaining close.

It was a beautiful palace with lush gardens and sprawling pools and fountains that served as a private retreat to House Martell. He had forgotten in his lessons from Maester Desmond why or who built it, but he was thankful for it all the same. In the weeks that followed since he arrived, he walked every pink marble path, visited every garden, hid under any shade he could find to escape the sun, as well as taking his brother to every pool and fountain they could find.

"My lion is bronzing," Elia appeared beside him, her delicate fingers touching his cheek.

"Princess," He took her hand and placed a kiss upon her knuckles. His eyes never leaving hers, dark pools that shimmered with longing. He felt his own desires flaring within, hotter than the Dornish sun, but he couldn't forget just how close they were to their nieces.

It was then that he spotted Prince Daeron walking through the gardens on a path towards them. Ser Gwayne Gaunt walked behind him, the prince's sworn shield, and the only member of the kingsguard who accompanied him to Dorne.

"Come," Elia looped her arm through Jaime's, "Let us give your friend some company."

Jaime didn't object. Escorting her towards Prince Daeron Targaryen, who smiled at them as they approached.

"Princess," he kissed her cheek, "My friend is fortunate to have such a beauty all to himself."

"Indeed, I am," Jaime happily agreed, bowing his head to his friend.

"We just need to find a proper betrothed for you, my prince," Elia offered sincerely. "While also shielding you from all the improper ones."

"My Prince, Princess," A new voice broke through their conversation.

Impressive timing, Jaime mused, as the Lady Mina approached them. Despite her surprised look and hesitance to join them, he doubted that this was truly a random encounter.

It was Elia who greeted her first, with a welcoming smile, "Lady Mina, this is a surprise."

Mina returned the smile, "I was looking for your brother, princess," She said, "He promised to show me the Water Gardens."

"My brother departed this morning," Elia was apologetic in explaining Oberyn's absence. "He rode to Sunspear to feast Lord Yronwood before escorting him here where my brother will host him for a few days."

"Ah," she looked surprised at the news. "Forgive me," she bowed her head, "I'll be on my way."

"Nonsense," Elia dismissed that suggestion, "I'd be a poor host to let you stay in your chambers alone."

Mina showed her gratitude with a smile. "You have my thanks, princess."

"Prince Daeron would you be my escort?" Elia moved to stand beside the royal prince, "That is if Ser Gwayne permits it?"

A smile bloomed beneath the knight's bushy mustache, "I do, princess."

Jaime hid his frown upon knowing what that meant for him. Instead of walking the Water Gardens with his lovely betrothed, he now was tasked with escorting a stranger. He knew Elia took Daeron so no gossip could begin about the prince and Lady Mina. However, that didn't mean Jaime had to like it.

"My lady," He offered his arm to her.

"My thanks," She put her hand on his as they set off together.

They walked a circular path that would allow them to keep an eye on the children, who were happily distracted playing in the fountains with one another. He kept his attention on the back of the prince's head instead of the lady beside him. Jaime strained to hear their conversation especially when it prompted laughter from his betrothed.

"Your brother is quite clever."

"He is."

"He mentioned several of my ancestors, and I'd wager he knows more about them then my own brother, the Lord of Highgarden," Mina laughed, a light lilt that held more warmth than Jaime expected.

Jaime found himself smiling, "Tyrion enjoys reading."

"Yes, he mentioned that," Mina sounded amused, "He also mentioned that your sister is coming to Dorne."

The suddenness and the boldness of her words made Jaime nearly stumble, but he regained his composure believing he let nothing slip past. "She is." He had told Tyrion a day or so ago to try to soften the ache that the inevitable departure would have on him. It seemed Mina had wormed the truth out of his brother, and that image angered Jaime more then he could say.

"Curious," Mina's voice carried a cadence to it that Jaime couldn't quite place the meaning behind.

"Is it?" He shrugged.

Jaime knew he needed to be careful, he was speaking to the Prince's paramour. She would be Cersei's rival to any potential betrothal between his friend and his sister. Mina already had the advantage of sharing the Prince's bed.

"She is betrothed isn't she?" Mina asked politely.

"She isn't," Jaime corrected, looking towards her for the first time. She looked back at him, a veneer of primness while her eyes sparkled as if to display her honest intentions. He wasn't fooled for a second, especially as she tried to feign innocence when it came to his sister and her marital prospects.

"Really?" She sounded as innocent as a back alley whore.

"Is it any concern of yours, my lady?" Jaime couldn't stop the brusqueness from seeping into his question. The anger of her deceiving Tyrion, a boy who starved for affection and used that to get information out of him caused his blood to boil.

"Did I pull the lion's tail?" She laughed, "Because that sounded like a roar."

She detected his irritation but found it amusing instead of worrying. "My apologies," he lied. His voice was tight betraying his lingering annoyance. "I'm just protective of my sister."

She patted his arm, "I wish my brother had that same trait."

For the first time in their conversation, Jaime detected an authentic feeling in her voice, and it was bitterness.

"Does your family hope to make a match with the prince ?" Her question came as softly as a whisper.

"My sister is here to retrieve my brother, nothing more." He would give her nothing.

"So she is."

Jaime's anger swell in his chest at her insistence. "If you're so concerned with the prince maybe you should speak to your brother." He took satisfaction at seeing his words puncture through the façade she had skillfully kept up.

"I am already spoken for." Her expression revealed neither happiness nor sullenness at her fate.

That surprised him. Jaime's eyes instinctively going towards his friend.

She seemed to read his mind, "He already knows."

Jaime wasn't sure what to say so he kept quiet mulling over this unexpected revelation.

"You should be rejoicing, my lord," she judged his silence for plotting, "Your family has a clear path to him." Her smile was thin when his eyes met hers, a challenging hue as if daring him to say otherwise.

He wanted to rebuke her accusation, but he couldn't. There was a note of truth in her judgment, and he despised himself for it.

Prince Daeron and Princess Elia had stopped, admiring the view of the sprawling gardens and fountains before them. The pair oblivious to what Jaime and Mina had been discussing.

"My ancestor was fortunate to have Prince Maron gift her something so beautiful as these gardens."

"Some of my fondest memories are playing in these gardens as a child with my brother," Elia revealed wistfully.

"Our children shall enjoy these gardens too, princess," Jaime put his arm around her. His words caused her to smile warmly up at him.

"Our children," she repeated fondly, "I like that."

He kissed her forehead, holding her close.

"If only all women were as blessed as the Princesses Daenerys and Elia when it came to their future husbands and their compassion for their prospective brides," Mina's blue eyes showed them nothing when she looked at them, "Thank you for your hospitality, Princess Elia, but if you'll excuse me, I shall retire." She left without another word or look in their direction.

Jaime glanced over to his friend, Prince Daeron stood silently, his eyes betraying his heart as they lingered on her retreating form. "Ser Gwayne?"

"Yes, my prince?"

Daeron turned to the knight. His face stoic. "I believe it is time for our sparring."

"Of course, my prince," Ser Gwayne moved to stand beside him.

"And try to make it a challenge this time," Daeron added, a smile slipping onto his lips.

"I suppose I can humble you, my prince, as well as protect you."

Daeron laughed, "That is why you are a knight of the kingsguard, ser." He then turned to them, "Thank you for the tour of the gardens, Princess."

"It was my pleasure."

He nodded in her direction before turning to Jaime, "Can I count on your appearance in the yard later?"

"You can, my friend," Jaime bowed his head.

Daeron smiled. He then left the Water Gardens with Ser Gwayne at his side.

"Love can be cruel," Elia murmured softly.

Jaime didn't have any wise words to add so instead he wrapped his arm around his betrothed. It proved the right choice as she leaned into him. He savored that feeling of her body against his, and he pressed a kiss into her hair. They stood their quietly, and he found himself thankful that he didn't have to sneak around to be with the woman that he loved.

"I know."

Jaime was too sore and tired to be anything but blunt. However, he had been smart enough to wait to speak until after he and Prince Daeron were in the latter's chambers. They had sparred for what felt like hours and the hot Dornish sun had been merciless. By the end, Jaime could barely hold his sword. He had lost count how many fights they had had and how many had been won or lost.

He collapsed into a nearby chair, thankful to be out of the heat.

There was no denial from the Prince. Nor was there an attempt to see what it was Jaime was referring to. He handed Jaime a glass before taking a seat across him. "Princess Elia told you."

"She did," Jaime confirmed, I wish it had been you, he wanted to add, but he kept silent. He took a long sip of his wine, thankful for the cool and soothing taste as it went down smoothly.

"You must think me a bad friend."

"That thought stayed for a time," Jaime was honest.

Daeron smiled, a soft chuckle followed, "I am sorry. I did not think it wise to share."

"You told Oberyn." It came out more as an accusation then what Jaime intended.

"He got me drunk," Daeron shrugged when he saw Jaime's incredulous look. The Prince then took a sip of his Dornish red. "That was how he found out, and when he did, he sent out the invitation. I told him not to, but he wouldn't listen," Daeron's tone was filled with appreciation even when he tried to convey his disapproval.

"Does her family know?"

"No," Daeron answered quickly, "No one knows save for you, Elia, and Oberyn," he looked down at his glass, "And I suspect Prince Doran too. He hasn't said anything, but he is very smart and very observant."

"Will you seek a betrothal?"

"No," There wasn't sadness in the Prince's tone just resignation. "This isn't for our families, but for us." He revealed, "There's a certain bliss in the selfishness of it. It being a secret only makes it more enjoyable ." He winked at him, smirking as he did.

Jaime grinned, but held up his hands, "That I don't need to know."

Daeron laughed, but the mirth didn't last. He sobered after only a few heartbeats, "Besides all that, I'm not a very ideal match."

"You're a prince," Jaime sounded stupid pointing out the obvious.

"With no lands and a hollow title," He laughed, this time there was no joy only bitterness. "All of what I get is due to the generosity of my father and after him it'll be my brother, Rhaegar." He made a face showing he didn't expect much of his situation. "She should be a lady of an important castle, with me all she can be is a Princess of a Hedge ." he admitted sourly. "That is all I am."

"You're more than that," Jaime wouldn't let his friend dwell on such melancholy thoughts.

"Thank you," Daeron finished his glass, standing up when he did and moved over to get some more.

"I heard about her betrothal," Jaime watched his friend stiffen. His back was facing him, and the prince poured himself another generous amount of wine.

"It is a good match for a second daughter." Daeron didn't make to join Jaime back at his seat. Instead he remained standing, drinking as he did. He placed his glass on the table, the clang of it announcing that it had been emptied.

"Are you still…" Jaime struggled with how best to ask the delicate question.

"Fucking her?" Daeron looked over his shoulder towards him. His smile was sharp and there was a certain glint in his lilac eyes. "I am."

"Even though she's now betrothed," Jaime tried his best not to sound judgmental.

"Don't worry it's not as if I'm going to run away with her."

"That thought hadn't crossed my mind," Jaime stood from his seat, ignoring the protesting soreness of his legs.

"I'm just enjoying the offered fruit before it's sold and delivered."

Jaime snorted at that description. "It sounds so charming and irresistible when you put it that way."

Daeron chuckled, pouring Jaime another glass of the strongwine. He nodded his thanks to the prince while also noticing that Daeron had poured himself another glass of the Dornish red.

Jaime nursed his silently. The second glass tasted better than the first, sweet and cool as it went down.

"Have you heard at all from Ned?"

"No," Jaime was thrown by the unexpected question. "Have you?" He saw his friend's posture change, he stood more rigid and the grip of his glass tightened.

"No, I have not." He drank the rest of his newly refilled glass quietly. When he finished, he dispelled a breath, and put the cup down. "I feared as much."

It was more the tone of his friend's statement then the words itself that caught Jaime's interest. "What do you mean?"

"I did not ask for it because I do not want it. It first came to me from my mother, and I prayed it was a rumor and nothing more, but the silence out of Starfall condemns me to the truth."

"Truth? What truth?" He was taken aback by the prince's flustered tone.

"Lord Dayne is pursuing a betrothal between myself and his sister, Ashara."