4 Queen of Love and Beauty

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She circled around to make her way back by way of the river when she spotted him.

Prince Daemon was dressed in simple black leather. He was letting his horse drink by the side of the river.

"Good morrow, Daemon," Lyanna inclined her head as she approached. It had been two weeks since she had arrived in King's Landing.

Since Princess Gael had mounted Dreamfyre, Lyanna and Daemon's reputation had increased in King's Landing; even the old king was said to have praised Prince Daemon for helping Gael.

The following day, Queen Alysanne had invited Lyanna to have tea and had personally thanked her for helping her daughter.

"You should thank Daemon, too. He encouraged her more than I did."

Lyanna had been quick to add, which resulted in Daemon being called by both the King and the Queen and thanking him. Daemon had simply told them it had been no problem. He just wanted to go back to training in the yard with Lyanna as soon as possible.

Since claiming Dreamfyre, Gael had flown around every day. The same princess who was afraid of Dragons, the same one who stuttered quite often, now couldn't keep herself from flying around at least once a Day.

Lyanna had quickly learned that House Velaryon wasn't a big fan of House Targaryen right now, mainly because Corlys Velayron and Rhaenys Targaryen believed that she should be heir to the throne instead of Prince Baelon Targaryen.

Among the people, Lyanna had met was Daemon's older brother—Viserys Targaryen, and his wife, Aemma Arryn-Targaryen.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet the She Wolf." Prince Viserys said with courtesy as he kissed her knuckles.

"She Wolf?" Lyanna repeated, not knowing people had been calling her that. It had been a week since her arrival in King's Landing, and she wondered if people had already started finding names to call her.

"Many lords call you by that name, my lady, Even Princess Gael," Aemma explained, seeing her confused filled face of Lyanna.

"Ohh," she blushed in embarrassment before greeting the princess. "I didn't know people had already given me Titles." She japed, shaking Aemma's hand.

"I hope you are enjoying your stay in King's Landing," Viserys said, sitting down. A table was prepared for them on a balcony. The sun shone brightly above them, and below them was the view of the largest garden of King's Landing. They could hear the voices of ladies and lords chatting, the birds chirping, and the aroma of the flowers was mesmerizing.

"It's a bit warm, but I'm getting used to it." Lyanna japed, earning a chuckle from the couple; Viserys was holding Aemma's hand below the table.

"It is indeed. When I first came here, it took a year to get used to the climate." Aemma chimed in, a servant opening the door, bringing them tea and a plate full of sweets, cheesecake, peaches from Highgarden, and drinks, Water mixed with honey and lemon at a boiling temperature.

"How is it like in The Vale? Never been there before?" Lyanna asked, taking a sip from her drink. The taste was sweet and a little sour.

"It's the closest you will get to flying if you don't have a Dragon. It has a beautiful view, and everything seems below you," Aemma described with a hint of melancholy in her voice; Viserys had taken her to visit Vale as many times as she wanted, but sometimes she couldn't help but remember her old home.

They kept talking for an hour until Viserys asked. "I hope my brother is not bringing you any trouble?" Viserys asked, knowing how...energetic his brother could sometimes be. He was a young man and often needed to went out his energy, sometimes fighting poor knights and sometimes in some other way. He wondered if his brother had given up on the second one for now.

"Not at all; Prince Daemon has been very sweet with me." Lyanna quickly said. While her prince was quite kind to her, she had seen the way he fought, sometimes going a little overboard. She had observed him often fighting, and Lyanna hated to admit that his way of fighting, what she saw aroused her, they hadn't married yet, so she only had her fingers for now.

"Sweet?" Viserys repeated as if the word sounded strange to him; Daemon and 'sweet' didn't belong in the same sentence.

"Are we talking about my brother?" Viserys japed, making Lyanna and Aemma giggle.

The same night, Daemon had taken her to fly with Caraxes again; Lyanna couldn't help but admire the dragon's beauty. She had seen many magnificent things in her life. She had even seen the Wall. Her father once took all three of them on a short trip to see the Wall. To see such a large structure felt incredible, but the Wall paled in comparison to Caraxes. The Dragon was magnificent and beautiful in every way.

She knew the dragon could burn her at any moment, but she couldn't help but admire him. That night, Daemon had secretly taken her to fly around, and they had shared their first kiss above the clouds.

That night after returning to her bedchamber, she had dreamed of Daemon doing all kinds of things to her. She had woken up feeling very frustrated. She had used her fingers to find her release, imagining that it was Daemon taking her from behind as if she was a common whore.

Now, she escaped her naughty thoughts when Daemon called her. "Lyanna," Daemon bowed as well. His black horse nickered at Lyanna's gray one, "Out for a ride before the joust?"

"Yes, Daemon. It's such a wonderful morning; I couldn't let it pass me by."

"Indeed," he mounted his horse.

"Will you be competing today?" Lyanna was used to the men refusing to endanger themselves before competing in case a fall disqualified them from the lists.

"I believe so, yes," he said, "But Serafina tends to get overexcited if she's not exercised before a joust, and I don't like my grooms to ride her. It gets her used to a different weight and style."

"She's beautiful."

"Thank you. I've been breeding her family for years. I won several tournaments mounted on her mother, and Serafina is just as fine, if not more so. Your horse is lovely as well."

"Thank you, Daemon. We have been together since she was a pony." Lyanna answered, stroking the horse's head.

"Care for a race, my lady?"

Lyanna answered by kicking Winter's haunches.

Lyanna won the first race by an easy margin and Daemon the second by a nose. By the third, Lyanna let Daemon think that Winter was tired until the final stretch when they blew past Serafina in a laughing gray blur, reaching the makeshift finish line in time to turn and rear triumphantly.

"My lady!" both horse and rider were sweating, "Lyanna, you are quite the horsewoman! Are all northern women so fierce?"

"Not all," Lyanna said. She offered him her water skin, and he took a drink gratefully, "But I learned to ride under the best in the north along with my brothers, and I've been hunting with the Lady Mormont, daughter of the Lord of Bear Island. She'll really give you seven hells on horseback."

"It seems I need to spend more time up north," Daemon said, "How about a ride back to The Red Keep."

Once arriving there, Lyanna spent an hour preparing for the tourney. Gael was there with her, teaching her, telling her what she should do in a tourney since this was her first time.

"Do you think Daemon will get hurt?" She blurted out without wanting to, she knew Daemon was a capable fighter and good with his horse, but the fear of something going wrong was still at the back of her head.

"Don't worry, Lyanna. Daemon has participated in Tourneys before, and he had won before, so there's nothing for you to worry about." Gael's words eased her concern. She knew she needed to have more trust in her future husband.

Suddenly she felt Gael's hands on the top of her head. "What are you doing?" Lyanna asked, looking at her over her shoulder. The princess blushed in embarrassment.

"I was just imagining Daemon putting a crown of Blue Roses in your head. It will be quite a sight to see." She answered as if she had started doing Lyanna's hair in a Northern braid. Waterfall Braid. Lyanna felt her cheeks warm up at the thought. She knew Blue Roses were rare in the South, her big brother had once given her a crown of Blue Roses, but this time it would be Daemon.

Lyanna was about to ask who he had crowned as Queen of Love and Beauty before, but the sound of the door opening stopped her; stepping inside was the Queen herself wearing a long red dress.

"Your Grace!" Lyanna quickly stood up before bowing her head to the Queen, who had a smile on her face, her eyes first settling on her daughter.

"You look beautiful. I hope you're ready for the tourney." Queen Alysanne said, looking at her daughter first before her eyes settled on Lyanna, who was wearing a blue dress, despite enjoying fighting and wearing mail and leather. Lyanna enjoyed wearing dresses and acting like a proper lady of the North.

"Lyanna, my dear, I doubt Daemon will be able to pull his eyes away from you." She complimented, looking at her dress from every angle.

"Thank you, your grace," Lyanna said, feeling her heart flutter at the praise. Queen Alysanne looked like a proper Queen despite her age. She had heard tales that she had once visited the Wall; Lyanna wanted to ask if she had flown beyond the Wall.

"Just Alysanne will do. We will become family soon." The Queen promptly said, waving the honorific away.

"And you can call me Lyanna."

Daemon Targaryen

Daemon tightened the straps around his armor as the squires saddled his horse and readied his lance. The horns outside his tent blew away for the first bout of jousting. The crowds cheered as two knights charged toward one another, their lances aimed low and their shields raised high.

Putting on the last of his shoulder plates, Daemon called to the two. "Breastplate," he ordered, extending his arms, and the squires quickly put the front and back plates on his chest, tightening them on both sides simultaneously. He would have to remember what these boys looked like. They were good at their job, a skill rarely found in squires.

One of them was a lanky little fellow, with dark brown eyes, without the sun to light them, almost looked pitch black.

The other squire, with brighter red hair. Opposite to his ashen friend, he was much bulkier but also seemed to be a bit older.

Another horn blew as the match from the current jousters finished. From the sound of the crowds, it seemed a favorite had won the match. It mattered little to Daemon. He enjoyed tourneys, but this time he had a reason to win. He wanted to crown Lyanna as Queen of Love and Beauty. The last time a tourney was held, He had crowned Gael.

Finally, he put on his gauntlets, buckled his sword to his belt, and put on his helmet. Fully armored now, his horse neighed. The girl was undoubtedly as restless to get this over with as he was. She was a feisty horse, a gift from his father all those years ago. When their relationship wasn't as it was now, Daemon told himself that he didn't really care what his father thought of him, but a part of him remembered when they used to fly together, each one on their own Dragons.

Taking the lead of his horse in his hand, Daemon signaled the two boys to follow him. "Come on, wouldn't want to keep the people waiting." as soon as he said so, another pair of horns sounded off, and the hooves of two horsemen quickly became drowned out by the cheers and expectations of the crowd.

Standing at the edge of the jousting grounds, Daemon and his two squires watched the spectacle unfold in front of them. Some new Vale knight was up next, a bright and haughty-faced boy who looked to have just come out of his childhood years, with his shiny bright armor hanged a crescent white moon in a field of blue.

Both knights rode to their opposite ends in the field and were handed their lances and shields. Hugh bore a simple tourney shield, thick enough to take the brunt of a lance but light enough to as to not tire out his shoulders carrying it. The other knight, on the other hand, was of a different mind. He bore a shield only someone who weighed nearly 40 stones and towered over eight feet tall could handle, his thick trunks of arms fastening onto the metallic gauntlets. This match was over before it ever even began, yet still, the horns blared, the standards were raised, and the crowd cheered for the two knights who bravely galloped their horses in a quick motion to one another.

Many of the sounds of festivities soon died out, however, and were quickly replaced with the screams of shock and terror as The big knight's lance pierced itself through Hugh's gorget, impaling him through the neck. The little knight of the Vale fell quickly off his horse, but he did not stand up as many others did before him when unseated. He merely choked and bled, scrapping at the wood and timber impaled deep into his throat. It was a quick death, all things considered, but no doubt a painful one. Daemon was among the few who did not look away or scream in shock. The two squires stood beside him, their mouths agape.

In the seats at the very center of the jousting grounds, the nobles and lords could only stare in disbelief themselves. He could see the Hand and King both with anger in their eyes, with all others simply sitting in silence. They wanted a good fight, but what they got was a bloody death.

"Go on then, drag the body out of there. Folks don't want a dead boy's corpse to ruin their fun." he tapped Uther on the shoulder and pointed both boys toward the grounds. They were the closest servants there currently.

They did so without question, running over to Vale Knight's dead body and dragging it boy by both head and feet out of the tourney grounds. It seemed they did not have problems with corpses, at least, or rather, just the ones they couldn't recognize. One last brief look at the boy's lifeless body showed Daemon a red and bloated face, blood protruding from both mouth and nose, his eyes wet, no doubt from weeping due to the pain.

Later

"Up next, Ser William Tyrell of Highgarden!"

As if in a blink of an eye, the crowds breathed new life onto the tourney, exploding in a roar of screams and cheering in welcoming the famous Knight. He was adorned in his signature silver armor decorated with twining black vines and sapphires. On his left arm was Tyrell's large green shield; painted on it were three golden roses, William's own coat of arms signifying his status as the second Tyrell son. A bit too showy for Daemon's own tastes.

"And his opponent," the announcer could barely be heard, yet he persisted evermore, "Ser Lucamore Strong of the Kingsguard!"

There was nowhere near enough celebration for William's opponent, as expected.

As the two knights charged and lowered their lances at one another, there was little doubt about how it would end. A moment of anticipation and a sudden crash. Both lances clashed violently with one another's shields. Ser Lucamore Strong laid unseated in an instant, with William riding on triumphantly. The sounds of victory filled the air, and whatever memory of The Vale Knight's death quickly became forgotten in the minds of nearly everyone, save for a few.

In the midst of celebrations and jubilation, William rode up to their stands, pulling off his ornate helmet to reveal those same golden brown eyes and mass of curls that decorated his head.

"For the Princess. May its beauty be second only to your own." a red rose appeared in William's gauntlet as he reached out and handed it to Princess Gael. Her cheeks flushed a deep red. It was only common courtesy for her to accept it, yet seeing it in her eyes, she seemed to adore it.

"Still can't pass up the opportunity to be a charmer for the ladies, I see." One knight could not hold himself back from commenting. William only smiled at the Knight's words.

"A knight should be as gallant with the people around him as he is on the battlefield," he replied as elegantly as any noble son would, with as much bravado as such a response would entail.

With another blaring of the horns, the standards were raised again, and the announcer came forth to call the next match. "Facing off against the previous victor, Ser William Tyrell, of Highgarden..."

"... Daemon Targaryen! The Dragon Prince."

The Audience exploded in applause for their favorite Knight. Now, anyone could barely hear anything other than the shouts of the People watching. Daemon didn't care about their applause. His eyes found Lyanna sitting next to Gael, she was applauding for him, and that's all he needed. With his armor fitted, his saddle strapped, and both his shield and lance handed over. Both of his newly found acquaintances gave their good luck to the bastard.

Daemon rode into their position. Serafina neighed. The girl was getting impatient. She was a war horse first and foremost, but Daemon had long since taught her to be more patient when it came to these things. Though much more suited to actual battle, she eventually had gotten herself used to these kinds of events, acting in near-perfect unison with her rider. It was all Daemon could ever ask of the animal, in all honesty.

The moment the horns sounded off, they both kicked their spurs into motion, and the horses began galloping away, with Tyrell's horse gaining the upper hand in speed and momentum, it would seem. A simple trick that almost all knights knew but rarely used in effect. Frankly, it was seen as unsportsmanlike, but Daemon could not care less about the opinions of some pompous blue-bloods and their little definitions.

Their lances came closer and closer to each other's shields. Wait for the right moment, till the opening is there. Upon the halfway point where their lances met, Daemon ducked under, sliding himself to the sides and avoiding Tyrell's lance. With as much strength as he could muster in his arms, he lunged forward, hitting the Knight's' shield dead on. Usually, just the sheer speed of the impact was enough to take out most jousters. Must some had gotten so used to their tourney fighting that they knew of ways to brace themselves for the impact in such a way that it looked as if it did not even affect them. Just from looking at his riding style, Daemon could see that the Tyrell boy was one such knight.

With a thunderous crack, his lance started to splinter and broke away, yet through it, all the crowd's cheers soon came to a silent halt, replaced with the realization that William Tyrell, the Knight, had been defeated in his first tilt. With a loud thud, the knight's body hit the ground as he flew off his horse. There seemed to be no other danger than that, however, as Tyrell quickly got back on his feet, if a bit dazed.

"The Winner is Prince Daemon of House Targaryen." The Crowd cheered for him; Daemon raised his arms in victory, and his eyes found his family, Lyanna was applauding, same for Gael. The Old King was as emotionless as ever. Queen Alysanne gave him a slight nod. His brother, as always, was smiling and applauding. His father seemed conflicted for a moment before applauding along with the rest.

Collecting his impressions and allowing his heartbeat to slow, the Prince reached out, and soon enough, a gorgeous crown of fresh winter roses was lowered into his black-gauntleted hands. Looking upon the sharp vines and thorns intertwined, Daemon remembered the scratches his skin bore underneath the gauntlets.

His posture firm and his gaze neutral, despite the storm that brewed within him, Daemon made his way parallel to the benches toward his fair lady and his future wife. As fate would have it, everyone's stares were directed at him.

A strange sense of angst overwhelmed him as he pulled his horse to a halt before her. He didn't let himself be distracted, though.

Then, Daemon's arms reached out over the low fence gracefully, and a crown of winter roses fell into Lyanna's lap.

Her chest rising and falling with the unsettled breath, Lyanna slowly lifted her crown and rested it atop her soft dark curls. Her lovely eyes found his.

"The Queen of Love and Beauty," Daemon announced seconds later, loud and clear, his back straight in black armor as he turned away. The audience cheered; Lyanna simply looked at the crown, her eyes welling up with tears. She felt stupid for crying; Gael was perhaps the one who was cheering the most.

Daemon smiled as he rode back, he didn't know why, but he felt fulfilled as if he had just done something he had wanted to do his whole life. Even Caraxes roared from the Dragon Pit, feeling the same happiness his rider was feeling.