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I had run as fast as I could, little Aegon holding onto my skirts as we hurried toward the tent where the puppeteers had performed the last two nights. It only took a single glance at the scene before me for my body to fall to its knees, my breath still wild in my chest.
As one of the princesses of the realm, I knew a lady should never be on her knees.
That was what a lifetime of lessons with the Septa had carved into my mind. A lady — not to mention a princess — must never kneel.
Never place yourself within a man’s decisions. Never ask for another opportunity. If you must plead, then what you want is surely something you must not have.
All the words my Septa had ever spoken returned to me as I felt the eyes of the commoners pressing down on my body, heavy as stones upon my shoulders. They stared in shock — their princess on her knees in the middle of a muddy tent, silver hair glistening in candlelight, my red dress stained with filth. A stark contrast to the image they were used to. I reproached myself for not even thinking to place a cloak beneath my head before arriving. My father would say I was dishonoring myself.
My thoughts went utterly silent when I saw the knight with his mouth forced against the wood, four guards holding him down as my twin looked upon him with the face the gods had cursed him with — monstrous eyes full of lies, convinced of his own victory, his crooked mind certain he was the embodiment of celestial power.
A dragon.
“Please, brother,” I said softly, my voice cracked, my eyes fixed on Aerion. “Release Ser Duncan.”
Ever since we were old enough to walk, Aerion had dreamed of this — of me on my knees, pleading, placing myself in a position where he could use me, mock me, or possess me. On any other day, I would have preferred to stitch my own skin with a needle a hundred times than endure this. I would have even preferred to be in the place of the poor girl Aerion had been tormenting not long ago.
For a moment, my gaze slipped from him and found her — hiding behind a column, clutching her own hand. Tanselle was beautiful. I had seen her during the performances: tall, different, talented. She had helped me paint a dragon upon my fan. Now she was reduced to a hunted animal, no different from the beasts we roasted and consumed each night at the castle.
Egg had told me of his knight’s feelings for her after I found them the second night. And even if he had not, what else could drive a man to strike a royal if not reckless love? Shame filled me as envy crept into my body. In another age, my family had been precious to the world in the same way she was now to Ser Duncan — a single finger laid upon our skin would have been enough to send knights to the gallows. Who would dare touch the blood of a dragon?
Just hours earlier, the crowd had tried to leap the tilt to beat Aerion for his dirty play, hurling horse dung at him. We had fallen from muses of history to vermin nesting within the Red Keep.
In another life, Ser Duncan would have been my knight. It would have been my safety alone that drove him into danger.
Aerion’s eyes burned into me, dragging me back to the present.
“Princess,” he addressed me, his voice smooth. “This stinking peasant who pretends to be a knight struck me. Do you not see my face? Are you truly so foolish as to miss it?”
I wanted to rise and strike his split lip with my shoe. I imagined how satisfying it would be to shove my fan into his—
I breathed.
And I pleaded.
“He saved my life once,” I lied. “He is honorable. Please.” My hands pressed against the dirt as I leaned forward. “Please, betrothed.”
With that word, I played the final card I possessed — the only thing in this world capable of halting him.
His birthright. The thing denied him time and time again. My answer had always been no — no matter the place, or the promise he made to me.
Our father had sworn his blessing would be given to our union if Aerion could convince me. And still, I had refused.
The soft crack of his boots was the only sound as he stopped beside me. His hand found my chin, lifting my face until I was forced to meet his gaze.
“You understand what you just said?” he asked quietly — not doubting my intelligence, but ensuring my obedience.
I saw it in his eyes: Was it truly that simple all this time?
He smiled then — gentle, princely, the expression he always wore before our father.
At last, Egg ordered the guards to release Duncan, who lay on the ground watching the spectacle unfold.
“All it took for you to finally fall to me was an unknown knight who reeked of horse,” Aerion mused, surprised. “I will accept it nonetheless. Release him.”
Egg’s eyes met mine, filled with apology and things he could not say.
“Come, sister. The dirt is no place for you,” Aerion said, offering his hand. “Stay low for too long and you may begin to believe you belong there.” When I refused his hand, his smile faltered. He turned and left, the air heavy with a bitter victory.
Once Aerion was gone, I stood, brushing dirt from my dress, and drew Egg into my arms.
“I’m glad your friend lives,” I whispered.
“I’m sorry,” he sobbed. “Now you’re in his hands.”
I knew what Aerion wished to do to Aegon. And what Aegon did not know was that part of me felt guilty. If I had yielded long ago — done what Targaryen women had always done, as Aerion said — perhaps he would not have turned his cruelty upon our baby brother.
“Calm down,” I murmured, stroking his shorn head. “This is for the best. He will not trouble you now.”
“But he will trouble you,” Egg cried.
“I am strong,” I lied, even to myself. “And I know him better than you do. I know how to stop him.”
A shadow fell over us. I looked up as Dunk approached, Aegon clinging to his leg.
“Ser—”
“You lied to me,” he said to Egg, his voice hard, though his hand still rested gently on my brother’s back. Then his gaze lifted to me. “My lady—”
The guards seized him again.
“No!” I screamed, but one held me back, gentle and unyielding.
“I’m sorry, my princess,” he said. “The prince’s orders.”
“Prince Aerion believes the knight requires further punishment,” another mocked as they bound Dunk’s hands.
“Thank the gods the prince did not choose to deliver it himself.”
————
That night, back in my tent, one of my ladies combed my hair while the others finished undressing me and preparing me for sleep.
No one dared to comment on my plea in the public tent, but I caught their glances — the whispers held behind their eyes.
“Everyone out,” Talis said firmly. Once we were alone, she took the comb from the girl who had left and continued where she had stopped. “You were truly brave,” she said softly. “Never has a princess kneeled to defend a knight.” She smiled, as if it were an achievement.
“This world is old,” I replied. “I am sure another one has.” She laughed at that, unaware that simply watching him from afar — admiring his clumsy manners, his awkward honesty — had led me to surrender myself to the most horrific fate imaginable.
“Why?” she asked once her laughter faded. She placed her hands on my shoulders, forcing me to meet her gaze, making sure I understood the question she was asking. “Why would you do it? You know you can tell me.”
I nodded. She was my only friend, the only person I trusted. Since the day she had been brought to me five years ago, she had been my sole ally, easing the loneliness my mother’s absence had carved into my heart.
“I like him,” I confessed. “And he was defending a lady from my… my betrothed. I had to do something. The only honorable knight in this land could not be allowed to end like that.”
“You're betrothed?” she echoed breathlessly, the meaning settling in her eyes. “So that was the cost.”
I nodded.
“I hope they kill him in the tourney soon,” I whispered, and then I broke, collapsing against the dresser as tears came freely. Her hands slid into an embrace, her cheek resting against my back as she held me.
“Princess,” she murmured gently, “you must remain calm.” She stayed with me like that for many minutes.
I felt like a pathetic little girl — promised to the man I despised most, the man I had yielded to in order to save another now rotting in a dungeon, while I remained here, alone, the taste of defeat bitter on my tongue.
“And they imprisoned him anyway,” I sobbed as I straightened in the chair. “What help I was.” I tried to mock myself, but Talis stopped me.
“They imprisoned him?” she asked.
When I nodded, she smiled.
“Then I can help.”
————
What not many know about Talis is that she isn't like any other lady in waiting. She was a lady of House Baratheon, so she was respected, and many men at the court tried to pursue her, blinded by the beauty behind her dark hair or her ice-blue eyes. But she never said yes to any of them. Instead, she entertained herself by toying with the guards.
“Hey, handsome,” she said to the guard who was protecting Ser Duncan’s cell. They both had a history; I had seen them together three or four times already. “Missed me?” She leaned against him and smiled.
“Lady Talis,” he recognized happily and held her waist. “I’m on my watch…” he said in a soft tone, sweet for his daring lover, though he still held his sword.
“He will not go anywhere,” she whispered, a seductive glare on her face. I could have sworn I saw how her melodic tone enchanted the guard. “But I will go for another friend if you cannot accompany me.”
The guard almost immediately released his sword and followed her. I heard them disappearing down the hall, giggling.
Once they were out of sight, I stepped out of my hiding place, took the key, opened the cell, and entered.
“My lady!” Ser Duncan quickly recognized me, standing up and making a nervous bow.
“No need for that… I’m glad you are well,” I said, admiring his gentle face. A kind face, even though he was down here.
“I’m well, my lady,” he said in a forced gallant tone, making me smile thanks to that goofy acting he always seemed to do.
“He didn't punch you again, did he?” I asked with a worried tone.
He denied it, yet my eyes insisted on studying him, searching for the truth myself. When I looked at his wrists, I couldn’t resist stepping nearer. He had marks from the forceful hold of the ropes. My fingers wanted to touch them, but I stopped myself.
“I’m sorry…” I apologized, in the name of all of them.
For all this.
“What for?” he asked, looking nervous.
“All of this… and for your lady as well,” I said, taking a step back. Remembering my place, not only because I was a princess, but because his heart belonged to another.
“Tanselle?” he wondered.
I nodded.
“She is not my lady, she just… I…” I smiled, interpreting his coyness as the closest thing to a confession that he liked her.
“Well, you like her, don't you?” I asked.
He nodded quickly, and almost immediately denied it, leaving me with a confused look.
“I mean… she is very tall,” he said.
My hand had to cover my mouth so a big laugh wouldn't escape my lips.
“Just because she is tall?” I asked, my eyebrows raised with curiosity and amusement.
“I mean… it's not normal for anyone to be my height,” he explained. “And she is nice, she… she actually is painting my shield.”
I nodded. Aegon had told me that too at supper. He needed a new sigil and had asked for a tree at dawn and a shooting star.
“But I don't like her, my lady.”
I noticed a little chair in the corner of the cell and signaled it. He nodded, inviting me to sit.
“You put yourself into a lot of trouble to defend her. I could have sworn it was for love,” I said, not knowing what to think, and mostly not knowing what to feel.
“No man should ever touch a lady in that way,” he said. Not satisfied, he hurried to add more explanation. “I mean… fights are for men.” I looked at him confused, and he panicked, trying to explain himself, stumbling over his words. He looked very cute. “Not because ladies can't fight! I mean they shouldn't have to, because that's why we exist, to defend them— and she wasn't fighting anyway!”
“No, she wasn't,” I finally said. He looked relieved that he didn't have to keep speaking. “They are going away soon, the puppeteers, if you want to go with her I can let you escape,” I offered.
He shook his head.
“I can't escape. It wouldn't be honorable.”
I smiled, seeing again the reason why I had saved him.
What made him worthy of my doomed fate.
“For love we can leave our honor elsewhere… you can leave it in this cell,” I said, as if I truly wished he would go with her.
But I didn't.
I wanted him with me.
“I don't love her. I… don't truly know her,” he admitted with a soft blush on his cheeks. “And perhaps I… I want to stay here and be honorable for the princess who begged for me.”
Now I was the one whose cheeks turned red.
“No need for that,” I said.
He shook his head.
“I want to.”
He went down to sit on the floor, his hands catching a small piece of something from the ground and starting to play with it. My eyes landed on his big hands, on his fingers, the way they moved with such unexpected delicacy.
“You know how to sew?” I asked.
He nodded.
“I can see it in the way you move your fingers,” I explained, enchanted by how unreal all of this felt.
A good honorable knight who knew how to sew, blushed, spoke properly, and kept his distance.
Aerion always called men who knew how to sew “womanish degenerates.”
Maybe the contrast was what had me attracted to Ser Duncan like a moth to a flame.
“Ser Arlan taught me,” he added after a moment.
Silence fell again over the cell.
He looked at the small thing in his hands while I looked at him, intrigued, feeling something strange growing inside my chest.
“Don’t be angry with Aegon,” I pleaded softly. My little brother was crying hard when I left him in the chamber Lord Ashford had just assigned him. I wanted to do something to cheer him up… and I knew this giant was perhaps his only real friend. At the mention of Egg he looked at me with those angry eyes he had shown him earlier. “I mean, I can't ask anything from you,” I continued, “but please understand… he wanted to escape. Life in the castle has been a living hell for him.”
Ser Duncan’s eyes softened.
“He could have told me…” he muttered.
I scoffed.
“You would have returned him to our father.”
He stayed silent for a moment, then slowly nodded, unable to deny it.
“I hate lies,” he growled, though the childish glare on his face made him look like a boy who had told many himself.
“I hate them too… but I hate Aerion more,” I said quietly and he looked at me again “And I can promise you, if I were a boy and had the chance to escape, I would have done exactly what Aegon did.”
I hadn’t meant to sound so miserable, yet the truth often carried that sadness.
A princess forced to marry a monster so a knight could live.
So her little brother could run far away from court, far away from the danger their own family had created.
“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, interrupting my thoughts.
“What for?” I asked, mimicking the answer he had given me earlier.
“You accepted him in exchange for my life.” I could only nod slowly. “My life is not worth you living in a nightmare, princess.”
“Don't say that… not to the princess who just saved your life,” I joked softly. “You make my sacrifice sound unworthy.”
He began apologizing again until I chuckled.
What if… what if he had truly been my knight?
Guarding my door. Walking beside me everywhere. Stopping Aerion from harassing me every time he appeared.
In that world I could have him in my life, even if I still had to suffer being my brother’s wife.
Maybe I could call him to my chambers when my lord husband was away training.
Maybe I could kiss him.
Maybe I could have him.
Silence filled the cell again, my fantasies tormenting my mind until instinct finally took over.
I had watched Talis enjoy guards for years. I had waited years for a marriage where I could enjoy myself too.
But no man had ever awakened that desire in me.
Until him.
“Can I ask for something?” I whispered.
He looked at me. Willing to give me the stars if i ask for them.
“Whatever you wish for, my lady.”
“A kiss.”
His eyes opened wide.
“I can't, my lady.”
He looked away. A tear rolled down my cheek.
You are too precious to be kissed by a man like me,” he whispered.
“But I want it,” I whispered back, stepping closer. “I want you to.”
“You shouldn't.”
He looked back at me, and this time neither of us looked away.
“Why? You are the most knightly man I have ever known.”
I went down to my knees again—this time by my own will.
“Please stand up, my lady. Your gown will get dirty.”
“I don't care about my gown,” I assured him.
We were close now, close enough to see his eyes clearly—blue as the Florent sigil.
“I can't,” he said again.
“Is it because I'm a Targaryen?” I wonder and he nods, I feel my chest tighten, after all I wasn't blind at the fact that this was the darkest era my house had ever lived. Two rebellions in the last century, no dragons left to defend us and brothers and cousins passing themselves a crown that they govern with that crazy touch peasants talk a lot about. “And if I cover my hair?” I asked.
He looked confused.
“What does your hair have to do with this?”
“I know the common people find us disgusting,” I said quietly. “Our features aren't what they once were. We are a plague instead of an exotic desire.”
“You are not a plague,” Ser Duncan said.
I laughed weakly.
“I am. Like a white rat.”
“More like a horse,” he said suddenly, smiling. “A destrier. The finest breed, like the one your brother rode in the tournament. And I would be a rounsey,” he said with a shrug. “Common horses. Brown or black. They are everywhere.”
“You know a lot about horses?” I asked.
“Ser Arlan also taught me to love them,” he said. “The thing is… a destrier never breeds with a rounsey. They stay among their own kind, waiting until they find another of the same breed.” He looked at me again. “You are a royal… and I am from… well, the streets.”
“That doesn't make me want you any less.”
He smiled sadly.
“I can't have something like you. I… I'm even wondering if this is a dream. The most beautiful lady in the Seven Kingdoms kneeling in my cell, asking me to kiss her.” He laughed softly. “Maybe the prince already killed me, and the gods are welcoming me.”
“And if this were a dream… would you kiss me?” I asked.
“If this were a dream…” he murmured thoughtfully.
“This is a dream,” I whispered, climbing shyly onto his lap. “Can you let me be happy? Even if it´s only in your dream?”
His hands hesitantly found my waist.
“I don't know how,” he admitted.
“Neither do I,” I said with a small laugh. “But we can learn together, Ser Duncan.”
Even sitting, he had to lean down to reach my lips.
The first touch felt strange—warm and unfamiliar.
My hands moved to his chest. It was as strong as I had imagined, the rough fabric of his tunic slowing my fingers.
The next movement of our mouths felt more like what people described.
Now our lips were truly intertwined, and it felt… good. Too good.
“By the Seven,” he whispered against my lips.
“Sweet,” I murmured.
He kissed me again.
His hands slowly explored my back, one brushing softly through my hair.
“Your hair is beautiful, for the record,” he said between kisses.
I shifted slightly on his lap. A low sound escaped him, a sound so rich I wanted to hear it again, so I repeated my move.
This time his hands tightened on my waist, holding me still.
“Princess,” he warned.
“Did I hurt you?” I asked, opening my eyes.
“You're killing me,” he said shakily, his thumb brushing my lips. “You are the sweetest dream I have ever had.” I kissed him again, this time a small moan escaped my lips.
That broke the enchantment.
“Forgive me, princess,” he said softly, pushing me back. “That should not have happened.”
“But—”
“Horny green boys!” a man’s voice echoed somewhere down the corridor. I stood quickly. "Leaving their sworn work so they can go gods knows where!”
When I closed the door and returned the key to its place, my eyes met Dunk’s one last time through the iron bars.
Now that the barrier was between us again, I could finally see what he truly felt.
His eyes were full of longing.
“I will do all I can to help you,” I whispered before leaving.
Behind me, I heard his voice.
“Princess… Please do not come back here".