Daenys Velaryon is the oldest child of Rhaenyra and Laenor Velaryon, but she shares the same true lineage as her brothers Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey. As the oldest child of the heir to the throne, she has duties to fulfill, duties that she is ex...
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Year: 117 AC
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The sun bathed the courtyard in a warm golden glow, casting long shadows across the floor. The air was filled with a symphony of clashing metal, echoing through the space as several young princes engaged in their rigorous sword training. Sweat glistened on their brows as they parried and lunged, their swords cutting through the air. The sound of steel meeting steel resonated, accompanied by the occasional grunt of exertion.
Above the courtyard, a large terrace overlooked the training yard. The old king sat on the weathered stone balcony, a flask wrapped in his fingers. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he watched his sons and grandsons spar down below.
"This is the stuff Lyonel. Lads that learn together, train together, knock each other down, pick each other up," he patted Lord Lyonel Strong who stood beside him. "They will certainly form a lifelong bond wouldn't you agree?"
"That is the hope, Your Grace," Lord Lyonel nodded in amusement, his face turning serious when he caught sight of the young girl who was practically hanging off the edge of the balcony.
"You're swinging wrong, Luke!" Daenys hollered, arms on the stone rail as she leaned over it eagerly, eyes fixed on the scene.
Lucerys looked up, briefly distracted from aggressively swatting his sword at a straw dummy, and stuck out his tongue at her.
"Step away from the edge, Princess, you'll tip right over," Lord Lyonel tapped Daenys's shoulder gently.
Daenys shook her head, leaning over even further and craning her neck, "I can't. I won't be able to see."
"Daenys..." King Viserys's voice came out stern.
"But Grandsire!"
Her grandfather frowned at her but she shook her head again. King Viserys sighed in exasperation as he gestured for Lord Lyonel, taking his arm to stand up after a laboured breath. Then he pulled his chair closer to the edge and took a seat. He patted his lap and smiled at her.
"You'll be able to see better from here, and you won't get tired either."
Daenys's eyes lit up, "Really? May I?"
"Of course."
Daenys stepped back with a grin and allowed her grandfather to pull her into his lap with a grunt.
"You Grace?" came Lord Lyonal's concerned voice but King Viserys waved him off.
"I am alright, Lyonel. What kind of grandfather would I be if I couldn't even hold a young child?"
"You're a very good grandfather, grandsire," Daenys pressed a kiss to his wrinkled cheek and he beamed.
