Game of Thrones/ASOIAF: The Prince of Scrolls

"What were you doing in his room? Playing with dolls?" Daemon asked, his sarcasm concealing his anger.

Daenerys looked down at the floor, ashamed.

"His life was in danger, Daemon!" Queen Rhaella scolded him. It did nothing to quell his fury. "Do you think that's the question you should be asking right now?" Her words made the boy pause for a moment.

The young prince shook his head. He looked Daenerys up and down. He noticed the change in her clothes.

"Did you sleep with him?" he asked, looking down at her.

"No...he taught me," she began, but stopped.

"He taught you?" Daemon took a step forward.

"His books," she whispered.

It was a weak excuse, but a believable one. If Daemon had known her for that long, he would have known that she loved to read.

"Books?" He seemed amused now. "Weren't all the ones I gave you enough?" he asked.

"They're not the same. I wanted—"

"Ah, you wanted to be a maester. I'm sure The Prince of Scrolls had plenty of those," he scoffed at his uncle. "Books won't stop me from cutting off his head," he said coldly.

"Daemon!" Queen Rhaella faced him, looking like a dragon about to breathe fire. "You both agreed it wouldn't be a duel to the death. Remember?" she scolded. "Or do I need to remind you?"

Ser Barristan watched as Daemon's fists clenched. The leather of his gloves made a characteristic sound. The old knight took a few steps forward, hoping he wouldn't have to intervene. The prince, in his anger, was unpredictable.

"I remember, Grandmother," Daemon said, taking a step back. "I hope I still remember by then." With that, he turned and left.

Daenerys was confused. She was torn between sadness and anger. He was bothered that he looked at Jaehaerys's books, even though it was a lie, but Daemon didn't try to listen to her at all.

However, her sadness overpowered her anger. Daemon had been her first friend and her first love.

He had been by her side since she was a little girl. Seeing him so angry over a misunderstanding still made her feel bad. Her heart ached at the thought.

"Come on, Dany. Sir Barristan," the queen mother said, putting a hand on her shoulder as she led her to her chambers. The Bold followed them without saying a word.

They walked in silence through the corridors. The lords had long since retired to their rooms. Only a few drunkards still staggered through the hallways. Some of them looked at the princess and her mother lustfully. The gleam of Ser Barristan's armor stopped any impure thoughts they might have had.

"You seem to want me to marry Jaehaerys and not Daemon," the princess said. She had noticed her mother's behavior from the start. She spoke well of Jaehaerys, saying that the princess would be very happy with him. She never spoke ill of Daemon, but didn't praise him too much either.

"You've met him. Who are you more compatible with?" the queen mother asked.

"I love Daemon," she replied quietly, not answering the question.

"You love him? Or is he the only man you interact with besides Viserys?" her mother pressed.

"I..." The queen had a point.

Daenerys only interacted with Viserys, who was oppressive. He wasn't abusive, but he liked to demonstrate his leadership and dominance. She could never see him as anything more than her brother.

Daemon, on the other hand, had always been by her side. They were similar in age and were very close. When they reached an age where they became interested in the opposite sex, he began flirting with her, and she fell for his charms.

"Daemon is not a bad boy. Even with his recent outburst," said the Queen Mother, who was a little worried about her grandson. "But you won't be happy with him. I know you as only a mother can know her daughter," she said.

"Is that why you have to force everything?" The words made sense, but love did not.

'Love, right?' She began to question her feelings.

"Force?" Rhaelle raised an elegant eyebrow. "It was Rhaegar who organized everything," she said. "I won't deny that I thought it was a fantastic idea, but I never discussed it with him," she finished.

Daenerys remained silent. Soon, they heard the sound of swords clashing. Sir Barristan was the first to hear them and drew his sword faster than the two ladies could recognize the sounds. He stood in front of them.

"In the name of the king, stop fighting," he said, taking a step forward and making sure out of the corner of his eye that the princess and the queen were all right.

Two groups faced each other. Some knights in elegant armor fought against men in worn, dented armor. Two wounded knights lay on the ground, gasping for breath and blood dripping from their mouths.

"We are men of Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen," said one of the knights. "We found these men trying to enter the princess's chambers." The princess's mother squeezed her hands tightly. "Princess," he called out, holding out a letter.

"Throw it," ordered Ser Barristan. The man stopped short before obeying the order.

"They lie," said one of the other men, his voice like a bear's growl. Their attention was drawn to his northern accent.

The white cloak caught the letter in midair and offered it to Daenerys with his left hand. His right hand never let go of the hilt of his sword.

Daenerys opened the letter; it was in the shape of an elephant.

"You," she called to the men in worn armor. "Letter?" she asked nervously. She cursed at how foolish she must have sounded.

"Here," one of them said in a hoarse voice. An elegant letter appeared in his hands. It was not rolled up, as was customary. Instead, it was rectangular.

They repeated the process until the letter reached Daenerys. It appeared to be sealed. Her mother had helped her. There was a triangular fold that had to be lifted up. Inside was a white sheet of paper, which contrasted sharply with the yellowish tone of the scrolls and papers she was used to seeing.

Daenerys looked at the white eagle with gray eyes inside.

"Ser Barristan," the queen mother said. "Those in shining armor. Capture them," she ordered.

She had regularly exchanged letters with her son. It was a unique form of communication; only Jaehaerys sent letters that way. With that kind of paper.

The old knight did not question the order. The knights fled—or at least tried to. Jaehaerys's men stood in their way. It was only a matter of minutes before they were defeated. Ser Barristan stood between the battle and the ladies; more than one person wanted to take advantage by taking a hostage.

"Not on my watch," said the brave knight, his mind as sharp as his sword.

"Can you recognize any of them, Ser?" asked Queen Rhaella.

"Their faces are familiar, yes. But I cannot associate them with anyone in particular. I apologize, Your Grace," the old knight said humbly.

"I'm sure the dungeons will open their mouths. Or their necks," Daenerys heard, feeling a chill run down her spine as she heard her mother's bloody words.

In the end, there were six attackers: two were dead, and four were wounded. None of Jaehaerys's men had more than a new scratch on their already worn armor.

"I didn't know Prince Jaehaerys brought an escort. I only remember the disgraced maester who arrived with him and a red-haired girl."

Ser Barristan did not lower his guard, even with his supposed allies.

"The prince's business is the prince's business. We follow orders, nothing more," said the man with the raspy voice. They took off their helmets out of respect for Daenerys. Their faces were thin, their hair dark brown, and their eyes brown and gray. They were northerners, or so their features shouted.

"My fiancé told me about them, Ser Barristan," said Daenerys. She recognized the two who had entered Jaehaerys's room earlier.

"The prince will be here soon," said the other. "It's just a matter of waiting. If you allow, Princess, one of us will inform the castle guards about the infiltrators." He did not consult Ser Barristan or the queen. His orders did not include them.

"Go," she said when asked. "Will you also notify Jaehaerys?" she asked.

"Not necessary," a male voice said from behind her. "More assassins?" he asked his men.

"No, impostors. As you predicted," one of them replied.

"I need an explanation, young man," her mother said, looking at him in confusion.

"Just dealing with a useless knight," he replied cryptically, not saying the whole truth. Daenerys seemed to understand, as evidenced by the sound she let out. The prince was grateful she wasn't a fool.

"And where did your men come from, son?" his mother asked, leaving the political game aside.

"From the snow, Mother, from the snow," he whispered, his voice traveling against the castle walls.