Daeron the Defiant: A Second Dance of Dragons

Cersei:

"Let me look upon my daughter."

She stepped forward at her father's command. Standing straight and proud, refusing to show any hint of weariness from the long travels. Her wheelhouse having only just arrived to the city and when it reached the Tower of the Hand, she was immediately summoned by her father.

Cersei understood she didn't have the luxury of such complaints especially when the recipient to them was her father. So she kept quiet and still, and waited for her father to address her. She hadn't seen him since his last visit to the Rock which had been almost a year ago, but as she looked at her father before her, he looked much the same.

He sat behind his desk. His quill in his hands, scratching the tip of it along the parchment, face set in concentration. Satisfied, he put the quill down and raised his head, his sharp green eyes with flecks of gold met Cersei's gaze, who was quick to curtsey, which she did flawlessly.

"Father," she followed up with while standing up from her bow.

"Daughter," He returned the greeting, his expression unreadable, his eyes then flicked to the silent servants and guards throughout the room. "Leave us." His commanding tone sent them scuttling out of the room. It was only when the last one left, did his eyes return to her. A smile slowly came to his mouth that alleviated the seriousness of his expression. "You are beautiful, child." He raised his hand and gestured for her to come closer.

Silently thrilled at her father's words, she moved to cut the distance between them, seeing him stand from his seat, even in her growth these past few years, he still seemed to tower over her. When they were within reach his strong arms gently were put upon her, as he embraced her, a light kiss to her forehead followed. "How is your Mother?"

"She is well, Father," Cersei answered while relishing the affection and attention from her father.

"Good," he sounded pleased. "She is a strong woman, but she is still a mother." The embrace ended, but his hands remained on her shoulders. "I am sure she is cross with me for having taken you after already having Jaime in the capital with me." A faint amusing glint could be seen in his eyes, making the flecks of gold standout even more.

"Where is Jaime?" She had expected some sort of greeting from her twin whether at the city gates or at the Tower of the Hand, but he was nowhere to be found or seen. An absence that annoyed her, and though she wouldn't admit especially to her twin, but hurt her.

"He is with the Prince," Tywin answered, "He and Prince Daeron have become good friends since your brother came to the capital." Her father's tone was rich with approval at the friendship struck between the two young men.

The spare prince, she thought sourly. Why couldn't he befriend Rhaegar? The man who would one day be king. Was Jaime so foolish as to not understand the benefits that would come from being able to call such a powerful man, a friend? Or even better the power that could be his if he had the trust of a king.

"I see," Cersei left her thoughts on her brother's poor decisions to herself. It seemed it fell solely on her to win Rhaegar's affection. Help from her twin would have been a boon, but she should've known better than to rely on Jaime for anything, unless you needed something hit with a sword or to be told some dumb jape.

"Your brother is doing his part, Cersei," Her father said as if sensing her internal disappointment in Jaime, she looked up to see his eyes were on. There was no longer a glint to be seen or a smile on his lips, a mask of stone had been slipped over replacing any familiar hint that was she looking upon her father.

"It is time for you to do your part."

"I understand, Father," Cersei said at once, not wanting even a second of doubt to pass in his mind that he couldn't rely on her.

That pleased him, he nodded, his hands giving her shoulders a squeeze before he dropped them to his side, and returned to his seat. Cersei took the silent instruction and moved around the desk to one of the seats in front of him.

"The time of waiting is over," He continued, "Many Lords have sent their daughters or sisters here in hopes of snaring the Crown Prince." A look of annoyance crossed over his expression, "Regardless of these pitiful attempts, none of them possess your beauty," he tilted his head towards her, "Or the wealth and power of our family."

The urge to wilt under the pressure placed upon her shoulders was great, and had she been another woman, she may have, but she was not them. She was a Lioness of the Rock. Cersei understood her duty and the expectations placed upon her by her father.

She would make him proud. She had to.

"Give me time, Father, and I will have Rhaegar himself make the request to the king," She informed him, hoping her tone sounded confident to her father's ears, while ignoring the slight trepidation that rooted itself through cold tendrils within her stomach. Thankfully, he seemed to have believed her, and to her relief and a boost to her confidence, her father rewarded her words with a smile that she took as pride.

"I know," he assured her, and then the smile was gone. "You must be tired from your travels, bathe and rest. We do not want Rhaegar's first impression of you since you've flowered to be of a dirty and tired woman." His attention returned to the papers on his desk. The signal was clear. She was dismissed.

Cersei stood from her seat, trying to ignore the slight sting she felt at her father with his parting words and action. As slowly as she could without looking like she was dallying walked across his office, hoping for him to stop her, to give her one last affectionate smile or parting, but all she felt was disappointment when she reached the door and was given only silence. She looked over her shoulder to see her father engrossed in his work and with that last sight, she slipped out of his office and made for her chambers.

"Sister," her twin ambled into the room, hours later.

Cersei looked at him from her seat at her vanity, knowing at once from his appearance that he had been in the sparring yard. His hair was disheveled, face sweaty, crimson tunic was wrinkled and his trousers were dirty. He didn't even bother to change before greeting her.

Anger lashed within her chest at her brother. Here she sat, wrought with nerves that slithered inside her stomach like eels. While here her brother stood without a care in the world, who couldn't even be bothered to greet her when her caravan arrived.

It was maddening!

Was she the only one who had her family's interest first?

Did he care nothing of her plight? She mused, feeling a pang of pain at the possibility that her twin could. Was he that selfish to not even consider her feelings and fears at what was put before her?

I can do this, she thought to herself, trying to still the doubt that had nested itself within her, gnawing away at her confidence and her poise. The excitement and infatuation of being Rhaegar's wife and queen melting away upon realization at the trying task before her. Her father was already rejected once by King Aerys in a match between her and his son and heir.

Who is to say this time will be different?

"Cersei?" a look of concern touched his face, eyes searching hers, "Is something troubling you?" He tentatively made his way towards her as if afraid she may either flee or attack him if he got too close.

Yes! She wanted to scream, but she couldn't. She couldn't handle if her brother reacted with a laugh or a jape at her expense, exposing her fear for his amusement. "I-I," she faltered, "am just tired from my travels."

He frowned, not looking fooled by her lie, but she was thankful when he didn't press. "It can be exhausting," he admitted, "It is a long road from here to the Rock." His voice softened at the mention of their home, "How's Tyrion?"

Tears pricked her eyes as the memory of her brother sobbing in their mother's arms clawed its way back to the forefront of her mind. "He didn't handle it well." She dabbed at her tears with a swift flick of her fingers.

Jaime didn't see the movement as he had ducked his head, "I will speak to father." He said after a few heartbeats of silence, "To see if he will allow Tyrion to travel here."

"You know father's answer," Cersei pointed out sadly.

His head darted up. "What would you have me do?" He growled, eyes flashed angrily, but she wasn't certain at who the anger was directed at: her or inwardly towards himself. Just as quickly the anger dissipated and a look of remorse spread across his face, "Forgive me," he sounded sincere. "I miss him dearly."

"I know," she missed him too, and she had only just left while Jaime hadn't visited the Rock in months.

"Have you been shown around?"

"No," she answered, silently hoping that Prince Rhaegar would give her the honor, but she realized that was a silly dream, and one she must abandon if she planned on getting his attention . I cannot rely on him to seek me out, she reminded herself. I must search for him. I am the Lioness, the hunter.

"Then allow me to remedy that," he held out his arm for her, "a way to atone for not being here when you arrived."

"Very well," She acquiesced, realizing this was her chance to learn about her new surroundings. She stood from her vanity and joined her brother. Cersei tucked her hand into the nook of his arm, and couldn't help but wonder when was the last time she was this close to him? Or the last time they were this civil to one another?

Jaime looked pleased, "Good, let us begin."

While informative and more fun then she would've thought, Cersei couldn't shake the disappointment that clung to her when she and Jaime reached her chambers. It wasn't the end of the tour that made this feeling of dissatisfaction churn in her, but what they didn't see during it.

There had been no sign or hint of the presence of the Crown Prince, the target of her father's ambitions and her affection. There had been plenty of servants and guards, but no dragon had been seen during their walk through the castle and surrounding grounds.

It's only your first day, a soft voice reminded her, which to her sounded like that of her mother. Attempting to soothe away the bubbling discontent in her stomach. A day wasted all the same, another voice spoke up, rigid and stern, her father's voice.

She wanted to sigh, to cry, the nerves tangled in her tummy like wrestling snakes. All stemming from one man, her beloved Crown Prince and the responsibility that fell on her.

I cannot chafe from my duty, she reminded herself.

"Cersei?"

Her brother's voice and the lilt of his tone brought her eyes to him, he was standing in front of her. His lips pressed, she recognized the look easily enough, he was her twin after all, and knew he had something on his mind. "It was lovely, brother," she recited, believing he had asked her about the tour when her mind had wandered. "Thank you," she added. It was seeing his reaction did she realize she erred in her judgment about what it was she thought her brother had been saying to her.

"Are you well?"

"I'm fine," she replied, sharper then she intended watching her brother wince at her tone, "My apologies, Jaime," She sat down at the edge of her bed. Thankful for the reprieve and comfort of her soft mattress.

"Is it, father?" Jaime surprised her with his question.

"No," She answered too quickly to sound convincing. She expected her brother's stupid grin and foolish jape at having been caught in a lie, but she received neither. Instead her brother was looking at her with something she hadn't seen since they were younger-Sympathy.

It should have angered her. She didn't want pity or sympathy. She demanded respect, adoration, not this, and especially not from her brother, but she found herself too tired to muster any sort of anger to punish him, mulling in sullen silence as she was beginning to think her task was doomed before it could even start.

"The Crown Prince?" He guessed, green eyes searching her face, and even in her pride she knew she couldn't contest his answer with a convincing lie, so she nodded. He sighed at that, his boot scoffed the floor, "I'm sorry, sister."

"For what?" She blinked, confused not just at her brother's sentiment but the words themselves.

He looked at her as if it should've been obvious, "For not helping you." He sounded contrite, but then something flickered in his eyes, "But I can now." He moved to sit beside her, "I am not friends with the Crown Prince, but I do know some things about him."

"Really, you will?" She was caught off guard by her brother's offer of help. Feeling her own heart lift at this new torrent of hope that filled her.

"Of course," he answered her, a hand hesitantly hovering over her lap where her hands were resting before he made the decision and placed his on top of hers.

"Oh, thank you, Jaime!" Before she could stop herself, she hugged him, a gesture that caught him off-guard given the lateness of his hands reaching her back. She ended the embrace before it could linger and form as a reminder of what they once had and felt when they were children.

We're different then, she reminded herself, he has his princess, and soon I'll have my prince, she felt a smile forming on her lips.

"He spends his time with only a few individuals," he began with his observations, "Ser Arthur Dayne, Jon Connington, and the Prince's squires, Richard Lonmouth and Myles Mooton."

It was the first name that stuck to Cersei while the others were listed. She knew of the famous knight and had been told of his strong friendship with the Crown Prince. It was that friendship that worried her since it gave the knight's sister, Ashara Dayne an advantage that Cersei didn't have.

"Ser Arthur," she said casually, "he has a sister here doesn't he?"

Jaime grinned, "subtle was never you, Cersei," he followed his joke with a gentle poke to her side.

"Jaime," she admonished with no heat, which only earned a chuckle out of her brother. She rolled her eyes. "You said you'd help," she reminded him.

"And I am," he pointed out, "but it doesn't mean I cannot have some fun at your expense," His grin intact.

He could tease her all he wanted if it got her closer to Rhaegar, so she let it stand, putting aside any mild annoyance that her brother seemed to provoke within her without effort. However, she hadn't expected a smile to leak through knowing it would only encourage him if he saw it, and to her misfortune he did.

"A smile from my sister," he sounded smug, "will this day of wonders cease?"

"Jaime," that had gotten her smile to disappear.

He only chuckled, "I know, sister, I know," he held up a hand. "I was going to say you do not have to worry about Lady Ashara actively pursuing the Crown Prince."

"What?" Cersei's eyes widened at once at this boon. "What do you mean?"

"The Dornish beauty has become smitten with another."

She couldn't believe this fortunate turn. By all aspects this Lady Ashara was to be Cersei's greatest rival in her task of getting a betrothal with the Crown Prince. Her brother's friendship with Rhaegar, her family's ties to the Targaryens, her supposed beauty, and now she was all but removed from the competition so quickly.

The gods favor me, she knew it. They want this union too. They see it as a blessing that will bring prosperity to all of Westeros. She wasn't a pious woman, but she couldn't deny the touch of the Divine in this move.

"Aren't you at all curious who the lucky fellow is?" Jaime's question broke through Cersei's elation, "To have won your rival's affection."

"Who is he?" She asked more for her brother's benefit then her own, but mayhaps, I'll toast to him later, she smiled, on my wedding day with my prince.

"Ned Stark."

Daeron:

"Shall we go again?" Daeron extended his hand to his fallen opponent, Eddard Stark, his friend took the offered hand with a grateful nod.

"Well struck, my prince," Ned complimented when he got back to his feet. "However, I'll have to decline."

"Of course," Daeron replied, grateful that his two new friends had agreed to spar with him these past few days to help prepare him for his duel.

"Seven Hells," Robert Baratheon was standing off to the side, arms crossed, "Aren't you tired?"

In truth he was tired, and sore, but that didn't matter. He was determined to beat Rhaegar to win Dark Sister for himself. If that meant some temporary discomfort in the meantime then he considered it a bargain.

"I can use one more bout," he ignored the ache in his arm, muscles protesting from the exertion he's put his body through not just this day, but the last several. He had extended his training from its already rigorous level to improve and ready himself for this fight, expecting it to be the toughest challenge he's yet faced.

"What do you say, Robert?" Daeron offered, "You're footwork could improve."

"My footwork?" Robert grumbled, "Give me my bloody hammer," he tossed his practice sword to the ground in disgust, "And I'll beat you soundly."

Ser Barristan Selmy cleared his throat from where he stood, an amused smile on his lips.

"My prince," Robert amended with a bow.

Daeron laughed, "I'll remember that." He had seen his friend's prowess with his newly forged warhammer, and was impressed with Robert's skill and strength to wield such a massive weapon. "Very well, I suppose I have no choice, but to call it a day with my practice." He handed his blunted sword to a waiting page, who took it with a bow.

"Bout bloody time," Robert mumbled, a hearty chuckle followed his teasing tone.

"Forgive me for wanting to be diligent with my training."

"You're forgiven," Robert waved his large hand as if swatting aside Daeron's apology.

"You spoil me, cousin." Daeron grinned, earning a laugh from Robert.

Whatever annoyance he felt at having to call it quits for his day's training was snuffed at his cousin's infectious laugh. Even though they were tied by blood, Daeron had rarely interacted with his cousin, the last time having been years ago. He was fortunate that mistake had been amended. He had stumbled into this newfound friendship with not just his cousin, but of Eddard Stark too, who like Robert was fostering in the Vale as wards of Lord Arryn.

When they had arrived to the capital to see off Robert's father and mother from their journey, it was Daeron's role to interact and show the two of them the castle, and the city. He later learned that the task to show Ned and Robert around had first been given to Rhaegar, but his older brother had declined and it fell on Daeron.

My brother's aloofness knows no bounds, he thought wryly, but in this instance, he was thankful for his brother's indifference and obsession with books and solitude. As it gave him the opportunity to get to know Eddard and Robert, where friendships were quickly struck between them as well as with Jaime. The four of them finding fun in training, hunting, riding, and exploring outside the city.

He would miss his two new friends when they went back with Lord Arryn to the Vale, knowing their exit from the capital was approaching. Their stay having already extended twice now on Robert's insistence and charm, but now a day had been set, and they were to leave only two days after Daeron's duel.

"This duel between you and your brother," Eddard observed delicately, solemn in his reflection. "It doesn't feel right."

Daeron wanted to sigh, but restrained himself knowing that his new friend had a different experience with his siblings than Daeron had with Rhaegar. It was difficult for him to understand of such dislike between brothers, and for that obviousness, he envied Eddard.

"Makes sense to me," Robert shrugged, "I wouldn't mind a bout between me and Stannis," the imagined fight was enough to make Robert grin, "Any chance to have some fun with my brother."

"Fun?" Daeron couldn't help but ask, unable to see what his friend meant.

"Of course," Robert was still grinning, "I'd have a blast hitting him with a blunted sword."

"Robert," Ned sighed, but his lips twitched at his friend's over the top antics.

That pleased Robert, slapping Eddard on the back, "There it is, Prince, a smile from the solemn Ned Stark! A rare sighting, I wouldn't expect it again unless he was in the company of a certain Dornish beauty."

"Robert," Ned's smile was swallowed up by a scowl.

Robert didn't seem bothered by his friend's change in mood, reacting as if he had expected it. "Easy, Ned," he held up his hands, "It was only a jape, meant no insult to you or her honor," he paused, "Besides," his voice dropped to a whisper, "just an encouraging suggestion," he winked.

"My Prince," Ser Barristan Selmy cut into the conversation, "If I may?"

"Of course," he nodded, falling in step with the knight while the playful banter between Eddard and Robert continued uninterrupted, walking ahead of them. "What is it, Ser Barristan?"

"Your training."

"My training?" Daeron frowned, "Did you spot a weakness in my form?" He asked, "A slip up that Rhaegar could exploit?"

"Your brother," the kingsguard knight said softly, "He's your brother."

"I'm well aware of that," Daeron replied tersely.

"You never address him as such when you speak of this duel."

"It is irrelevant," Daeron felt the annoyance churning in his gut, "He is my opponent. I will beat him." I must, keeping that part to himself, sensing it would only earn him further disapproval.

"Listen to you," He shook his head, "It sounds as if this sword means more to you than your own brother."

"Of course it does!" Daeron snapped unable to restrain the bubbling anger inside of him. The blunt truth in his statement stunned Barristan, disbelief covered his face.

"My Prince," he mumbled in dismay.

"Enough," Daeron held up his hand. He had let this conversation go on long enough. He looked ahead to see Robert and Eddard had stopped, and were looking back at them in confusion.

He despised the look that Ser Barristan was giving him. Of all people he should know it wasn't him who was responsible for this fractured relationship between himself and Rhaegar. It was maddening that the blame, the disappointment was being put on him.

It was Rhaegar, he wanted to scream, but he stopped himself.

"Thank you," he forced himself to smile, needing to remain composed as his frustration roiled beneath his chest. "I will think on what you said," he lied smoothly, pleased that the knight took it with a nod and returned the smile, his full of relief. "Now, if you excuse me, I wish to see my friends off to their chambers." He didn't wait for him to respond instead going ahead to meet up with Robert and Eddard.

"Hold still."

Viserys giggled in response, disobeying as he did, padding across the floor and out of Daeron's reach. He stopped behind an ornate chair, poking his head around the side. "You can't catch a dragon!"

Daeron smiled at the display of energy and giddiness of his brother. "Oh?" Having no difficulty playing along, "Is that a challenge?"

Viserys bobbed his head up and down, a laugh followed, eyes shimmering with excitement as his feet tapped in place, ready to run away and to keep the game going all day if he could.

I needed this, he thought, savoring the levity that only his little brother could give him. A light hearted distraction that let him not have to worry about the many things on his mind and instead just allowed him to be an older brother.

"Dae." Viserys' voice broke him out of his thoughts, "you're not playing!" He pouted.

Daeron used that instant to move across the room, Viserys squealed in delight as he spun around and began to run away, avoiding being caught, peals of laughter echoing off the walls, as he padded across the floor. It was when he looked over his shoulder did he finally falter, stumbling and losing his balance, he threw out his hands, a worried cry escaped his lips, fearing he was going to fall.

He reached for his brother, fingers around his sides, grabbing him before he could tumble. "Got you," Daeron bragged, as he then tossed Viserys into the air much to the boy's delight.

"I'm flying!" Viserys cried out.

Daeron caught him, enjoying his brother's happiness.

"Just like a dragon!" Viserys sounded thrilled, "Again! Again!" He demanded petulantly.

"Viserys," Daeron didn't like that tone one bit. "That isn't how we ask for things."

His brother had the sense to look apologetic despite, "I'm sorry," he shrunk a bit, "Can you please, Dae?"

He had a hard time looking stern when his brother called him that. Viserys was too young and struggled to properly pronounce his name, and settled for calling him, ' Dae.' A nickname that Daeron hadn't liked at first, especially when Jaime heard him being called by it, but it was one he couldn't deny grew on him over the past few weeks solely due to his brother's charm and innocence.

Before he could respond to his brother's request, another voice entered their conversation.

"Daeron."

The voice of his older brother had a way of snuffing the warmth that Daeron had been feeling. His smile slipping from his face, as he slowly turned to the sound of his brother's voice, "Rhaegar."

"Come to play with us?" Viserys was oblivious to the chilly tension that had settled in the room between his two older brothers.

Daeron bit down the scoff that threatened to slip. He doesn't know better, he thought sadly, pitying his brother when he learned the same ugly truth that Daeron had discovered . Rhaegar only cared for Rhaegar.

"Not today, brother," Rhaegar answered Viserys not making an effort to make his tone gentle or assuring when dismissing their younger brother. "I need to speak with Daeron."

Viserys frowned. "We're not done playing!"

Daeron put a hand on his brother's shoulder to try to calm him, "It's alright, Viserys," he said soothingly, "We can play later."

"B-but," Viserys tried to argue.

"Enough, Viserys," Rhaegar chided, his indifference façade not cracking as their youngest brother looked on the verge of tears. "Your brothers need to speak."

Daeron felt anger stir in his gut at his brother's dismissal of Viserys, his fists clenched at his side. Before he could speak, Rhaegar continued.

"Ser Arthur will see you to your chambers," Rhaegar instructed, as his friend and kingsguard knight, Ser Arthur stepped forward, giving the younger prince an encouraging smile.

"Come, my prince," he held out his hand.

Viserys looked from the knight to Daeron, "D-do I-I have to?"

"Yes," he squeezed his shoulder, "I shall visit with you shortly."

That got Viserys to move, all be it slowly towards Ser Arthur's outstretched hand, hesitantly taking it as the knight rewarded the move with a friendly smile before leading him out of the chambers. Before the door closed, Viserys looked behind him, and Daeron sent him a reassuring smile before the door closed behind them.

"You coddle him." Rhaegar observed bluntly.

"You ignore him." Daeron snapped back.

Rhaegar sighed, "I have much on my mind, brother. I didn't come here to bicker."

"No, you came here for something," Daeron knew his brother well enough to understand his actions especially when it involved him.

"Yes," he admitted. "It is about our duel," He paced before the fireplace, "That sword is my birthright."

"That would be Blackfyre, my prince," Daeron said. "That belonged to the Heirs to the Iron Throne, not Dark Sister," he enjoyed seeing the slight slip of annoyance that Rhaegar showed before swallowing up to resume his stoic veneer.

"Regardless," Rhaegar cleared his throat, " Blackfyre is gone and Dark Sister is here. That sword may serve a purpose in future endeavors as will I."

Daeron scoffed, his brother's stubbornness in believing in these prophecies made him a fool. "You're scared."

"I am not." He declined sharply.

"That's why you're here." He felt the smile on his lips, relishing at seeing his brother's discomfort. "You're scared that I'll beat you." His brother frowned at his words, but offered no rebuke besides an irritated look.

"You want the sword, but you don't want to earn it."

Rhaegar ignored the accusation. "I don't want to fight you, brother."

"Brother?" Daeron laughed, "Is that what I am now to you?" He shook his head. "You can't just come here after ignoring me for years and call me brother and expect me to fall on my sword out of some family obligation."

"I am the Heir to the Iron Throne," Rhaegar said sternly.

"I'm going to show all of Court what I already know," Daeron confronted him, standing only inches apart from one another. "That their perfect prince isn't without his blemishes."