CHAPTER TWO.
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I have known happiness,
but I won't ever find it again.
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IT IS WHEN THEY SIT together in Elia's chambers later, after Astoria has settled in, that she finally starts to tell her friend about the betrayal.

     How her husband had been seated on a massive black stallion with red ribbons woven into it's mane, his armour dark and scaled like a dragon's, looking as glorious as a prince should. First it had been Lord Brandon Stark who fell, defeated. After him had come two of the kingsguard; Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, and Ser Barristan Selmy. They too had been bested by the dragon prince.

     The cheers had been deafening as Rhaegar removed his helmet and his silver hair had come free. Lord Whent had declared him the champion and his daughter, the previous Queen of Love and Beauty, had presented him with a crown of winter roses for him to name the next.

     Elia swallows before she silenty continues. "He did not even spare me a glance as he rode past me. That's when all the smiles died." Her fingers clutch her dress harshly, knuckles whitening. "He passed me over for a girl of ten-and-four. What have I done to deserve this shame?" She asks her friend and once more tears fill her dark eyes. She had not cried in front of her husband after the tourney, not wanting to give him the satisfaction, but now she can be free.

     Astoria keeps quiet, paitently waiting for Elia to carry on talking.

"The feast following the joust is torture. I pretended not to hear the whispers, the snickers, pretended I haven't just been humiliated in front of half the realm," she smiles bitterly, "I had to sit on the dais beside Rhaegar like a sweet little wife, a meek mouse who accepts it all without complaint."

Astoria imagines the scene and it makes her want to scream, to cry, to hurt the man who had dishonered Elia.

"The girl is pretty enough for a child, I suppose. But not a girl to lose a kingdom for!" Elia declares and the next moment she cries out in shame. "He has made me like this. Rhaegar has made me this hateful. How can I blame a maid that young for my husband's lustrous affairs? I have been just as naive as her once."

It is then that Astoria takes her hands softly. "You are angry and you should be. You have every right to hate him the way I do," she whispers. "It is him who the lords think mad now, him who will suffer the consequences."

     She smiles gratefully at the woman in front of her. "I want to curse this marriage but I cannot. It has given me my children and for them I shall live through any pain my lord husband presents me with." Her tears are dried now. "Let us not fret anymore. At this time of the day the gardens are lovely."

      With these word she helps Astoria to her feet and together they wander through the castle's halls giggling until they reach their destiny. It is good to see her friend laughing.

     Only now does she acknowledge the man that has been trailing behind them the entire time. He wears the white cloak and armour of the kingsguard and seems vaguely familiar. After a moment or two she remembers him standing closely behind Prince Rhaegar at the docks when she had arrived.

Her first thought is, he doesn't look like someone that bows to the king's every wish.

Her second is, oh, for he is handsome.

     When they settle down somewhere in the gardens under a lemon tree, Elia beckons him to their side.

      "Please, sit with us, Ser Arthur." Elia's voice is warmer than the sun in the middle of the day.

     First, the man looks as if wanting to decline but then he trails closer, sitting down in front of the two ladies. He is tall, dark of hair and has an impressive physical form — all high cheekbones and fine bone. He has a quiet authority about him, though, and walks with an easy grace that belies his size. He moves with ease, as if every step he takes is calculated perfectly, agile like a cat but powerful too.

     "This is Arthur Dayne of Starfall," Elia introduces him, dark eyes twinkling. "He is part of the proud Kingsguard, defending the realm and its royal family from harm."

     A smile graces his lips when he answers and he bows his head in what could only be described as abashment. "You honour me, Princess."

     His gaze falls onto Astoria then and suddenly the day seems even warmer than before. "Lady Astoria. It is my pleasure," he mutters, "Her Grace has talked about you much."

As she looks upon his face through thick lashes more closely, his handsomeness is hard to overlook. His bright lilac eyes glitter with good humor and they are every maiden's dream. Don't be a fool, she chides herself. He has sworn an unbreakable oath and you are no maiden.

"I hope with all my heart that my dear friend shared only the flattering details," she tells him delightfully, wondering about Elia's words.

"I am quite certain that there is nothing else to tell."

Next to her, she can her Elia laugh.

IN THE GARDENS, UNDER THE scorching sun, it is easy to lose track of time. Most of the day has passed already, when Ser Barristan Selmy approaches them.

     "Forgive me for intruding but the king wishes to finally meet his newest guest," he tells them with a solemn face, eyes shimmering with something akin to fear.

Astoria faces Elia for a moment, whose skin looks greyish and pale like parchment. "You don't have to accompany me," she tells her friend, knowing very well about the nightmares Aerys gifts her with. And although the Dornish woman has seemed lively throughout the day, the toll Aegon's birth had taken on her is still visible at times. She had survived it, yes, though barely. "No harm will come my way. I have nothing to fear from His Grace."

     Elia blinks at her, opening her mouth to protest, but Astoria kisses her lightly on the cheek, already on her way. "I will dine with you in the evening," she promises in a low voice.

      It is a long walk up to the Red Keep where Aerys Targaryen awaits. Astoria walks beside Ser Arthur Dayne in silence, who had offered to bring her to the room where the throne of the dragonking's has sat for thousands of years, following the twisted and twining halls of the castle. Her arm in his, they sweep up the steps together, Astoria's train heavy behind her, forcing her spine straight, her chest proud, her chin up, locking her squarely into place.

     The strong steps of the knight give the woman comfort as guards admit them into the throne room. Entering, she looks about; the great dragon skulls that adorn the walls, the stone pillars that rise high up to the ceiling. The throne room is crowded with lords and ladies alike, whispering between themselves.

Astoria's footsteps echo throughout it.

The Iron Throne is less frightening than she had imagined, yet the man sitting ontop of it is terrifying in his own right. With hair almost as long as her own, eyes wild and vicious and claws as fingernails, he looks like a monster masquerading as a man.

His sanity is slipping, Astoria has been warned, and it is quite possible this is the case. The king's hands twitch and he can't seem to stop blinking, turning his head ever so slightly every once in a while. Suspicious, Astoria has been informed. Mistrustful. He certainly does look the part.

     His wife stands idly by his side, unmoving, like she is made of stone.

A sweet woman, Rhaella Targaryen, despite the sorrow that is present in her eyes. Astoria thinks that the queen is more beautiful than anything else, with the silver hair and white skin. But she has heard the rumors already, of course, that with Aerys as her husband not even her own body is hers to keep.

     His guards linger around him, close enough to intervene should anything go wrong but far enough away to offer up a semblance of privacy.

"Lady Astoria," Aerys Targaryen greets from atop his throne, more a growl than anything else. Aerys's left eye is trembling and his tongue flicks over his dry lips."I welcome you to my kingdoms. Our families have been intertwined since the Doom of Valyria."

     The king is watching her, and so are the guards, and the dragon skulls in the room seem to be watching her as well. Astoria closes her eyes for a moment and takes a breath. "You are too kind, Your Grace," she smiles, a small, tremulous thing, dropping into a perfect curtsy, head bowed low in feigned respect. "I am grateful for your hospitality. My father sends his utmost regards for not visiting as well, but for his reign to be as fruitful as yours, he must stay with his realm."

     The king seems satisfied with the answer. "That truly is a shame, but his only daughter will hopefully grace us with a long stay," he cackles, but all Astoria hears is a key locking her gilded cage.

Her green eyes meet Arthur's violet ones.

DARLING, DEAREST, DEAD.     author's note.

ragger is a son of a bitch (not literally ofc, in this house we stan rhaella targaryen) but arthur is not