✿ εїз Lalita Duarte εїз ✿

Your husband, Lord Kenric, had passed away not so long ago, leaving you, the younger half-sister of the King, a widow. You had only been back home for the funeral and to get his affairs in order, but now his brother, Cassian, wanted to take your home from you.

He had always been a thorn in your side. An ignorant, drunken man who always thought himself worthy of a higher status than his own. At the beginning of your marriage to Lord Kenric, he’d tried to flirt with you to gain your affection. Even if your heart didn’t already belong to another, you’d still be repulsed by him and his efforts.

Once he realised it was unwise to keep up with these pointless advances, he grew cold and distant, showing his true colours to the point that even his own brother despised him.

Part of you wanted to just let him take the estate. Maybe you’d go off travelling for a while and decide what to do next when you returned. But being part of the Targaryen dynasty meant you were expected to fight for what was rightfully yours, that you were meant to add to the legacy.

Despite being the daughter of a handmaiden and sharing the same father as Viserys and Daemon, born long after their own mother had passed, they had always treated you as one of them. Always seen you as having the blood of a dragon and loved you just the same.

It was a relief and a comfort - one you knew your mother would appreciate if she’d survived your birth.

“What if I don’t want to live in that place on my own?” You sighed. “It was different when Lord Kenric was alive. I still felt alone, but I was his wife - I was doing my duty. Now what am I?”

“You are a Targaryen,” Rhaenyra said, placing her hand on your cheek with a delicate touch, your gaze softening as you looked at her. There was a familiarity in her eyes, radiating love and tenderness, allowing you to reminisce in this connection between you. A connection you’d had to keep buried throughout your marriage to Lord Kenric.

Even after years of practising this restraint, all you wanted to do was take her in your arms and kiss her. To feel her lips on yours again.

“You don’t have to live there, but those lands should belong to you,” she told you, changing to speak to you in her mother tongue as a couple of maids came around the corner, prompting her to reluctantly drop her hand from your face.

You shrugged a shoulder, replying in Valyrian, “I suppose I’d find some satisfaction in denying his ignorant, drunken brother.”

“Then you can come back to Dragonstone with us.”

Your heart leapt at the suggestion. “For how long?” You asked.

“Forever,” she smiled, “or for as long as you like.”

You tilted your head to the side with a grin. “I would like that.”

~~~~

The festivities had already begun when you arrived, both you and Rhaenyra being announced before the music and dancing resumed.

You were just starting to enjoy yourself a little, with help from a chalice or two of wine, when Lord Kenric’s brother interrupted you.

“Princess,” he cut in, taking you by your elbow and leading you aside with a practised smile. Clearly, he was trying to avoid making a scene. “How nice it is to see you enjoying the feast while my brother lay in a crypt.”

“I mourned for my husband longer than you,” you retorted, stepping back from his loose grip.

Cassian rolled his eyes before he spoke, “I thought we might discuss the matter of my home.”

“My home,” you corrected. “Your brother left the estate to me.”

“You? You were never fit to be his wife,” he seethed, quiet enough for just you to hear as he pointed a finger in your face, “you didn’t give him any children. You’re nothing more than a bastard with the Targaryen name.”

The sound of a sharp crunch rang out in the room and the music suddenly stopped, everyone turning to stare at you as Cassian stumbled back and cried out, holding his now bloodied, broken nose.

Everything around you faded into a blur. The crowd parted in hushed whispers and you felt Rhaenyra come up beside you and take hold of your arm.

Your fist was clenched tightly by your side, knuckles throbbing with a dull pain as you realised what you’d done.

Fuck.

Cassian regained enough composure to focus his attention back on you and he stepped closer,the fury clear over his bloody face.

“You little - “

His outburst was abruptly cut off by the familiar glint of Valyrian steel held tightly against his throat as Daemon appeared in between you and Cassian, lilac eyes dark with warning.

Viserys had stood from his chair, bemused by your actions. “What is the meaning of all this?” he bellowed.

The silence was deafening as you stood your ground, glaring back at Cassian.

“Daemon, put down the sword!” Viserys demanded. “I will have answers.”

Reluctantly, Daemon lowered the sword from Cassian’s throat, but stayed standing protectively in front you.

“Forgive me, your Grace. I meant no offence to the Princess,” he stated.

His false remorse only added to your anger. How dare he stand there acting as if you’d been the one to offend him first?

“I only wished to discuss my late brother's estate.”

“Princess?” You mocked him. “I thought you said I was an unfit wife and that I am ‘nothing more than a bastard’.”

Viserys’ anger was evident over his face as he reached for the dagger in his belt, but before he could speak or make a command, Dark Sister had sliced clean through Cassian’s neck, his head thumping onto the floor in a pool of blood, along with his lifeless body.

You blinked, feeling Rhaenyra’s hand tighten around you at the abrupt action.

“There, you have your answer,” Daemon announced, casually cleaning the sword with his robes before he moved to stand by your side.

“Nyke jeldan naejot gaomagon bona,” [I wanted to do that] you murmured, making your brother snicker.

The feast abruptly came to an end after that. Viserys took his leave, but not before asking you to meet him in the morrow.

You felt a sudden emptiness in the pit of your stomach when you met Otto Hightower’s calculated gaze, knowing full well he’d be advising your brother the king to have you married off again.

Especially now, after this spectacle and the death of Lord Kenric’s brother.