For almost her entire life, Daella Targaryen has lived as Mellara Rivers, the bastard daughter of Arnold Arryn and cupbearer of Lady Jeyne Arryn. First and trueborn daughter of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, Daella had but slight contact with her fami...
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T H I R T Y
I'm telling you Let me into your heart ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
When a fertility ritual is used, especially since the days after the Doom, it is mostly done in secret. The reason for this is that the way the ritual is performed, as is described in a later chapter, causes the frown of dismay from many a people. Therefore, one born out of this ritual might never even come to know it. There are no physical characteristics one might find in such a babe, except for one. When the face of the babe is turned at such an angle that light, whether that be from fire or from the sun, hits the eyes, one might notice a strange reflection. Some Maesters have described it to be a colour as red as the blood with which they were begotten, blood mages tell us that it reflects the future of the person and others say that there is no such thing at all.
Daella put a marker on the page and threw the book with a hard thud close. Rubbing her face fiercely with her hands, she wondered what in the Seven Hells she was doing. So what that she had been born out of a ritual that involved the blood of newborns and the mutilation of several other living things besides. Her parents had made a grievous mistake, but there was nothing Daella could do about it now, and reading about all the bloodshed that had been placed upon her hands before she had even been born was not going to improve, besides her nightmares, anything.
Still, clenching the book to her chest and rising from her chair, she knew she had to do at least one thing. Taking a deep breath, she left her own chambers and walked in the direction of the royal apartments. The Lady Alicent had grabbed her chin to angle her face the moment Daella had been presented to her, as had her grandmother Rhaenys, but neither woman had said, nor shown anything that might give the reflection of her eyes away.
Raising her hand, Daella rapped quickly on the door of the new king, hoping fiercely that he had some time to spare for her. It didn't take long for the door to be opened and she inclined her head ever so slightly. "Your Grace," she muttered. Despite the fact that he had been crowned yesterday and she had been forced to address him in such matters quite often already, she still found it odd.
Aemond, obviously thriving on her discomfort, smirked and opened the door a little further. "Come in," he said, motioning with his hand. "Should you not be asleep already, my beloved?"
Daella waited until the door was closed before she dropped her polite act. She laid the book on Aemond's table, before turning around to face the man behind her. Crossing her arms in front of her chest and raising a single eyebrow, she regarded him for a silent moment. "Should you not be asleep, my King?"
"Hmm, now that, sounds nice," Aemond replied. "Especially if you would try it with a less sarcastic tone of voice."
Daella rolled her eyes and turned her back to him. "You're despicable, Aemond" she muttered as she tried to find the right page. When she turned to look over her shoulder with the intent of urging Aemond to come closer so that he might read the lines too, she started at the realisation that he had managed to sneak up on her for the umpteenth time. Feeling the heat rush to her cheeks, she returned her attention to the volume and tapped the passage on eye colour. "Read this."
