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Chapter Text

Daemon held Dark Sister in the light of his fireplace, the flames danced across the fine Valryian steel. His father, the Spring Prince, was the last man to handle the sword. Now he was the owner since King Jaehaerys, his grandsire, had gifted it to him. It was only hours ago that he was knighted amongst the great houses of Westeros. He turned the hilt in his hand familiarizing himself with its weight and form. It was more slender than he anticipated, but its workmanship was exceedingly fine. It was unlike anything a swordsmith could render in Westeros. He swung the sword in the air, and placed Dark Sister back in its sheath. 

“Relishing in the moment, I see.”

Daemon turned to Viserys standing in the doorframe of his chambers. 

“Coming in unannounced, I see,” Daemon replied dryly.

“It’s my duty to make sure you don’t injure yourself while whirling Dark Sister about. I would not not want to tell father you injured yourself with it.”

Daemon laughed and was silent for a moment, “The hour is late, why are you here?”

“I wanted to say that seeing you knighted in the Great Hall made my heart swell with pride.”

“You do not flatter me oft.”

“If I did then I fear the whole Realm would suffer for it.”

Daemon went over and lightly pushed his brother in the chest. Viserys laughed, grabbed a cup of wine and filled it. The Rogue Prince walked over to the chairs in his room and his brother followed.

“Come sit, what news of your lady wife?”

“She is in bed most days and asks the maids to draw baths to ease her pain.”

“The babe should arrive any day now.”

“That much is sure. He will be a boy. I am sure of it. His kick is strong in his mother’s womb”

“May the Gods make it so. “

“I sense they will.”

“We can only hope. I chose a dragon egg for the child so it may be placed in its crib.”

Viserys was surprised for a moment then smiled, “That gladdens my heart. Where is the egg now?”

“Safe in the Dragonpit.”

“What color is it?”

“Yellow. It came from a clutch that Meleys dropped.”

“Do you think it will hatch when the child is born?”

“I hope so. Based on when the clutch was dropped it should be ready to hatch any day now.”

“Good! Thank you, Daemon.”

“The new prince or princess is deserving of a dragon. You will need your heir to have one. Especially, if you want to set your sights on the Iron Throne.”

“I do not have ambitions for the Iron Throne. Even if I were to sit on it, many decades shall pass before I do. Father is healthy and strong.”

“I would not use those words lightly. He has been afflicted with melancholy since mother’s death over 10 years ago. 

“It is true.”

“Time moves quickly, brother. You will need to act now to ensure you are made Prince of Dragonstone.”

“That decision is not near in sight! Grandsire is not yet dead. Father has more life in him. There is no rush to make plans. Rhaenys should be the rightful queen, as Aemon’s only child. Who is to say she won’t claim the throne?”

“Are you blind? When has there ever been a queen to sit the Iron Throne?”

Viserys remained silent knowing full well the answer.

“See? Now is the time for preparation. Since father is the Prince of Dragonstone soon you will be.”

“And why does any of this matter to you,” Viserys raised his brow with inquiry. 

“I want to help you.”

“To what end?”

“There is no end.”

Viserys made a spiteful laugh, “Ah, I see now you desire me on the throne so you can whisper in my ear as my Hand.”

“What would be so heinous about that?”

“You are impulsive and hot-tempered. Not to mention inexperienced!”

“And you are passive and weak!”

Viserys frowned deepend, “You think I would ever want a Hand who spends a majority of his time in Flea Bottom and the Streets of Silk?”

“Don’t act so pious. We used to fuck our ways through the Streets of Silk. At least I know what the smallfolk whisper. Can you say the same?”

“The smallfolk’s opinions matter not. Let us argue no more.”

“Just as I thought. You don’t know what is being said around King’s Landing. What they whisper of our house. What they say of the King. Fine keep to the halls of the Red Keep getting fat and dull!”

“At least I do not drag my name or position through the mud, Lord Flea Bottom.”

“I am the Prince of the City!”

“Not for very long!”

Daemon’s glare turned dark, “What do you mean?”

“I’ve said too much.”

“You have insulated that my time in King’s Landing is near an end.”

Viserys realized he made a mistake and decided to come clean, “Very well. Grandsire and father ar–”

“Oh, I see exactly what is happening here. They sent you as their messenger to hide behind. When you arrived was your flattery also a farce?” Daemon saw through it all immediately. 

“Any flattery spoken from my lips was said in truth.”

“I highly doubt that. Out with whatever news they want me to hear!”

“Father and the King intend to send you to the Vale.”

Daemon’s face turned deadly, “And why would that be?”

“To join our house with House Royce.”=

“You are sending me off to the Vale to marry a stranger.”

“I am not, the King is.”

Daemon laughed bitterly, “Grandsire only knighted me, handed me Dark Sister, just so I would go silently to the Vale? Did he even desire to make me a knight? Or was this part of an elaborate plot!”

“There is no plot. All Targaryen princes are made knights and expected to marry. I was married at the age of six and ten. You are expected to do the same.”

“I detest the Vale. You know this!” Daemon scoffed.

“Rhea Royce is a fine and rich match! She is the heir to Runestone.” Confusion spread onto Viserys’ face.

“That is of little consequence to me.”

“This is your duty to the Realm, to your King!”

“If it was so important to the King, why didn’t he come here himself?,” it was silent and Daemon continued more seriously, “One thing I want to know is why didn’t you fight for me?”

A knock on the door broke the tension in the room. Shortly thereafter,  Sir Thorne of the Kingsguard walked in. The man looked slightly nervous but there was an urgent energy about him. Daemon walked up to the man in a fit of rage and drew Dark Sister from its sheath. 

“You should never interrupt a discussion between two dragons, Sir Thorne,” Daemon said dangerously.

“Forgive me, my prince, but my message is for Prince Viserys.”

Viserys' walked towards his brother, “Daemon, sheath the fucking steel. What is it, Sir Thorne?”

“Your lady wife, Princess Aemma, has begun her labors and requests your presence immediately.”

Both Daemon and Viserys looked at each other in disbelief. The past conversation was erased by the current circumstances.

Viserys looked nervous, “I will leave at once!” 

Viserys rushed out of the door leaving Daemon with a whirlwind of emotions. The lonely prince sheathed his sword and let out an aggressive yell. 

—

The news of the Princess’ birth was all that King’s Landing could talk about. It was the only thing heard throughout the streets that night. There was an energy and excitement in the air that Daemon was not used to. Many sang praises of Aemma’s beauty and Viserys’ likable nature which caused his blood to boil. The whores he frequented only wanted to speak of this ad nauseum. Instead, he gave up on the Streets of Silk, and filled his cups finding more comfort amongst the drunkards. Yet, at the taverns the same conversations were buzzing in the air. All the while, resentment continued to stir in his chest. Anger at the King, his father and most of all his brother made him vengeful. His kin were worried about the reputation he would bring upon the house, and the best way to snub him out was hiding him away in the Vale. He would not bend so easily. After tiring of the chatter in the taverns he decided to talk to the only person of interest to him in Flea Bottom. A young dancer that had recently caught his eye, Mysaria. She was beautiful, young and surprisingly had a sharp mind for a whore. The journey to the dancer was quick and he soon found himself on the right street to her location. 

Daemon approached a small door and knocked on it. Mysaria opened the door. He saw her with a group of young dancers, some getting dressed, others readying themselves for clients. The dancer smiled smugly. 

“What brings a young prince to my doorstep,“ she purred. Daemon could hear the other dancers giggling at his presence. 

“Unfortunately, a listening ear.” 

She chuckled lightly, “I’m afraid I’ll have to charge more coin for that.”

Daemon smiled, “Of course.”

Mysaria led Daemon through various paths until they were in a private room. 

“Daemon, what do you require? A young maiden with fair hair perhaps?”

“Not tonight, Mysaria. The King plans to send me to the Vale to marry Rhea Royce. Come with me as my paramour.”

Mysaria frowned, “You cannot be serious.”

“I am.”

“Then I want you to ensure my protection.”

“I have a dragon.”

“That is not enough.”

“What will it require? I refuse to go to the Vale as a silent prisoner.”

A realization dawned on Mysaria, “You are bothered that your family is forcing you to marry.”

“Yes, and why should that matter to you? I will pay you!”

“I fear me being your paramour will not suffice. I cannot so easily leave my life here in King’s Landing.”

“We will make a new home.”

The dancer walked to Daemon and held his face, “Then answer me this. Do you love me?”

The young prince was silent. Mysaria laughed, “Just as I suspected. You have never been in love. I will not go with you to the Vale. Run home, young prince, to your duty.”

“Do not speak of my duties, you whore.”

Mysaria was angered, “Then let me tell you before you leave, marriage is a political arrangement. You can fuck whoever you want. You can do whatever you want after you are wed. Not many in the Realm have that luxury. Many do not have a choice. So do not speak to me as if you are a prisoner. ”

Daemon remained silent, taking the words she said seriously, then feeling angry that he was considering a whore’s advice. He grabbed coins out of his pocket and threw it on the table, “You will do well not to lecture a prince.”

Daemon rushed out of the pleasure house towards the Red Keep. Begrudgingly, he returned to his chambers unsatisfied with how the events of the day unfolded. It would seem that everyone was against him, maybe the Seven themselves. Daemon took out Dark Sister and swung it at the chair in his room breaking it apart until he was out of breath. Everyone should have been talking about his achievements this day, not that of a child. Without taking his clothes off, the young Rogue Prince drifted off into a restless sleep holding tightly to Dark Sister

—---

Prince Daemon woke up with a grogginess, and with the sun positioned at noon. He still felt betrayal from his family and a boiling undercurrent of anger, but it cooled slightly when he saw the damaged chair in his room. The whole of Westeros was buzzing with excitement over this new princess. If it was such big news he would go and see what all the fuss was about. He was sure the child would be ugly.

He intended to see the child but refused to be there when his brother was present. Based on the time of the day, Daemon was sure Viserys would be preoccupied with the small council. He could send for the dragon egg and be in Aemma’s rooms by the hour; completely avoiding unwanted company. Aemma would not be leaving her chambers anytime soon, and neither would this new child. The prince readied himself for the long anticipated visit. 

—

“Daemon!” Aemma exclaimed with a huge smile as he walked through massive doors.

“Aemma,” Daemon came over to the bed and smiled down at the tired woman before him, “You fought gallantly I hear.”

She smiled, “It was well worth it. Do you want to meet your niece?”

Daemon stared at the bundle of cloth in front of him. He had seen children in King's Landing but never a babe so new to the world. A strange feeling of nervousness hit him, and confused him.

Daemon stared at the small baby in front of him. 

Aemma laughed, “You have never touched a newborn, have you?”

Daemon continued, “You should be grateful I haven’t, if I had it would be concerning.”

She smiled with pride, “Let me introduce you to my daughter. This is Princess Rhaenyra Targeryen, your beautiful niece.” 

Daemon looked down at the small child who was sleeping and strange looking. He would not attribute her as beautiful, more small and wrinkly, “She is…smaller than I expected.”

“Little dragons grow fiery and majetic with time. One day you will understand,” Aemma noticed a brown bundle of cloth in Daemon’s arms, “What do you have there?”

“A dragon egg for Rhaenyra’s crib. It will hatch soon.”

Aemma’s eyes lit up, “I’m so pleased! Thank you, Daemon. Please set it in the crib. Then come hold your niece!”

Daemon set the yellow egg in the crib, and returned to Aemma who was offering up her small child to him. When the child was placed in his strong arms he was unsure of what to do he felt incredibly out of his depth. 

Aemma spoke, “You can relax your arms, I assure you.”

Daemon let out a nervous laugh, and looked at the small dragon in his arms. She had a mostly bald head with a wisp of blonde hair. Her eyelashes were long and resting gently on her pink cheeks. Rhaenyra started to squirm and cooed. Her eyes fluttered open and the baby stared at him. Daemon wondered what a baby like her thought of him. The baby yawned, and an immediate desire to protect her filled him. He knew the little dragon had endeared him to her much too fast. Maybe being an uncle was not as bad as he anticipated?

“ Rytsas, ñuha zaldrītsos ,” Daemon said softly.

“Those are the first Valryian words to grace her ears! Daemon, you must continue to teach her.“

“And do the Septas the dishonor?” Daemon snarkily replied. 

They laughed together for a moment. The tightness he felt in his chest released itself some more. 

“I’m afraid the Septas can’t teach her how to fly dragon back, and neither can her father.”

Daemon laughed, “As her uncle I will ensure that she is the fastest dragon rider in Targaryen history.”

Rhaenyra continued to stare at him and yawned before cooing again. He smiled at the child. Realizing this little dragon had changed the course of his mood in a matter of minutes. Daemon was sure of one thing, that he would spoil this child. Rhaenyra started to squirm and scrunched her face looking about to wail. Preemptively, Daemon deposited the child into her mother’s arms. 

Aemma left a sweet kiss on Rhaenyra’s head and soothed her. She looked proudly at her daughter, “Rhaenyra, soon you will be fluent in Valyrian and a master of dragons. You must promise to teach your younger brothers these things.” 

“Brothers?”

“Oh, yes. Viserys and I want many boys, even girls.”

Just then Viserys’ entered the room, causing Daemon to frown and his sour mood returning to him. His older brother seemed to forget his presence as his entire attention was directed at his new daughter.  

Aemma beamed, “I’m glad you are back, my love! Where is your father?”

“He is preoccupied with the small council.”

“I hope for Rhaenyra to meet her grandsire soon.”

Viserys nodded, reaching for his daughter, “May I?”

Aemma handed him the baby and Viserys looked proudly at her, “A strong Targaryen babe.”

Daemon remained silent, and Viserys spoke to Daemon without looking at him, “Daemon, you will soon understand the joys of parenthood.”

“How so?” Daemon looked at him wearily. 

“As a husband and father.”

“You know my sentiments on the issue.”

“The Realm requires you to faithfully fulfill your duty.”

Daemon felt anger swell up in him, “I am a second son. I can do my own choosing!”

“Your title does not give you freedom. The small council has discussed in detail today when they will be sending you to the Vale.”

“I do not care for what those dusty cunts have to say.”

“If you want to serve the King, you should!”

“All of those cunts are after Grandsire’s throne!”

“You should watch your tongue. At least the members of the small council do not waste their time in Flea Bottom on the day they are knighted!”

Daemon tightened his fist. If Viserys weren't holding his niece he would have punched the man.

“BOYS! Enough of this!” Aemma yelled. 

The tension of the moment calmed as they realized Aemma was still in the room.

“If you want to spar, save that for the tourneys, but do not do so with my daughter present!”

“Forgive me, Aemma,” Viserys quickly replied. 

The baby began to fuss and Rheanyra’s face scrunched up to let out a loud wail. Viserys tried to soothe the baby, but then the nurses came to take the child away. The three adults were left alone in the room.

“Brother, the King plans to announce your betrothal to Lady Royce on the morrow. You will marry Rhea Royce in three months time. Runestone is to be your home.”

Daemon felt his anger boil over, “Fuck you!”

—-----

It was the early hours of the morning, and Daemon had snuck back into the Red Keep. He didn't spend his evening in the Streets of Silk or in Flea Bottom. He had spent his time wandering the streets of King’s Landing listening to the smallfolk talk. He wanted to walk the place that he called home before he was surrounded by a multitude of bronze idiots. In a few hours, he would be leaving for the Vale to wed the bronze bitch. 

Daemon continued to wander the stony halls of the Keep, content with the majority of goodbyes that had taken place over the last couple days. There was one final farewell he intended to make before his departure. He entered into the quiet nursery where Rhaenyra slumbered. The wet nurse was fast asleep, snoring while Rhaenyra was quietly awake holding her dragon egg. She tried to put her small mouth on it to suck it. She had grown rapidly since he first held her. Her hair was longer, and she had gained more weight, making her appearance quite darling. The child’s personality was starting to reveal itself, and he knew he would miss much more of her growth in the coming years.

He knelt by the crib and quietly grabbed her attention. The little princess looked back at him and gave him a toothless smile. He stuck his hand into the crib and she proceeded to start chewing on his index finger. 

He smiled gently, “Little one. I do not know when I will see you next.”

The babe stared at him, not quite understanding what he was saying. 

A sad look appeared on his face, “I swear I will shower you with gifts on my return.” 

Daemon carefully picked up the child and cradled her in his arms. Her small hands reached for his long hair to put in her mouth. He lightly chuckled, “You should be asleep, my little dragon. Worry not, I’ll be here until your tired eyes flutter shut.”

Daemon started to quietly hum, and the child released his hair and stared at him in wonder. 

“It seems you like that. Your grandmother once sang lullabies to me. So I’ll sing one to you.”

Drakari pykiros

Tīkummo jemiros

Yn lantyz bartossa

Saelot vāedis

Hen ñuhā elēnī:

Perzyssy vestretis

Se gēlȳn irūdaks

Ānogrose

Perzyro udrȳssi

Ezīmptos laehossi

Hārossa letagon

Aōt vāedan

Perzyro udrȳssi

Ezīmptos laehossi

Hārossa letagon

Aōt vāedan

Hae mērot gierūli:

Se hāros bartossi

Prūmȳsa sōvīli

Gevī dāerī

As he sang the last stanza, Rhaenyra fell asleep. He relished holding her for one more moment before setting her down. She rolled to hold her dragon egg, and peaceful slept

“Rest, my little dragon. May the Seven watch over you.”

Daemon walked away from her and back to the secret paths of the Red Keep. Rhaenyra continued to slumber as a small rattle came from her dragon egg. A small yellow snout poked through the shell and started to flare its nostrils.

Chapter Text

They are just alike. Weak , he thought bitterly. 

His brother was weak and so was the Queen who now stood in front of him. He should have known that Viserys never trusted him. Yet, the sting pierced him deeply and all he could feel was the rage of a dragon. He could almost feel flames flickering in the back of his throat waiting to get released.

His hand grasped tighter on her neck and he drew her face closer so she could see the look in his eyes. Didn’t she see that he wanted to help her? To gain back what was rightfully theirs? Dreams would not save them! It would not bring back their dead daughter! It would not bring back the dead king! They needed to act now. How the fuck could she not see that? He shook with anger until it reached a precipice and he let go.They stood staring at each other in a deadlock, waiting, as Rhaenyra caught her breath. 

There was a small tremor in his hands. The heat of Rhaenyra’s neck was still on his palms. He could barely look her in the eyes lest she saw too much of what was lurking deeper inside of him. There were no tears, or hurt on her face, just a sense of righteousness. 

Rhaenyra’s voice came out, “He never told you. Did he?”

The sharp pain of jealousy and rage was replaced with a dull ache in Daemon’s chest. A dullness he had squelched since the news of his brother’s death reached Dragonstone. 

Rhaenyra’s eyes were piercing, searching for too much, seeing too much. His lavender eyes looked down hoping to hide his emotions. He stormed off before she could even utter another word. 

As he exited the room he was greeted by the whole fucking black council. He was sure they heard his conversation with their Queen. He glared at them, “Move out of my way. Now!”

All of them obeyed and created space for him to walk. A few bowed as he passed by, others gave him silent stares, mostly his older children. Baela’s gaze was especially piercing but he ignored it. He rushed to the nearest exit of this suffocating fortress. 

His lungs were filled with the salty sea air before he knew it. The wind blew on his face and it hit him finally, as if the Black Dread had landed on his chest. A heaviness filled his core and radiated to his limbs until it was all consuming. Grief was making him feeble, leaving him more frustrated and confused. His mind was wracked with questions, and accusations as he stared at the waves below him.

A Song of Ice and Fire? Why did Viserys never tell him? He was an heir far longer than Rheanyra had ever been. Viserys had ions to tell him, and yet he didn’t. His brother never trusted him. Never. How could Viserys never see that he was worthy of that trust? His success with the City Watch, and the Stepstones was proof of that. He let out an aggressive grunt as he stormed off towards the hills leading up to Dragonmont. 

Fuck dreams and pertents! Damn the Hightower cunts!  

If no one in the council would fight for Rhaenyra’s birthright, he would! Dragons were the answer and always would be. Let the council waste time. Let his lady wife squander her breath on dreams of peace. He would set his plans in motion without them. On the morrow, war would be on the horizon, if they didn’t act now all of them would soon perish. His eyes looked at the obsidian peaks of Dragonmont. Its secret shafts and passages he was vaguely familiar with. He knew various dragons had made their lairs there, and he intended to find them all. They had 6 dragons with riders, and he would make sure they had more. More than the Greens could ever imagine. 

A cry was heard in the distance distracting him from his ruminations. 

Daemon’s head turned to see Caraxes' red wings against the midnight sky. He saw the gallant creature fly through the air towards him. It would seem the Blood Wrym knew what needed to be done. A smirk graced his lips for a moment. Dragons understood dragons. He ran over and grabbed a torch from the side of Dragonstone’s walls and fastened it to his hip.

The dragon perched on a cliff near him and he ran over to the beast and brushed his hand over its scales. He mounted the saddle quickly, “Sōvegon, Caraxes!”

The wings of Caraxes flapped and speedly climbed up into the clouds at a fast pace. The moon shone brightly on his wings and the smell of smoke and brimstone filled Daemon’s lungs. A part of the dull ache in him was slightly appeased while being cloaked in the dark hues of the night sky.

The flight was short and Caraxes without command landed on a cliff with an opening into the deep caverns of Dragonmont. Daemon assumed Caraxes knew who he was looking for. Who would better know the inhabitants of Dragonmont than a dragon?

“Istia gīmigon skoros iksan jurnegēre syt, Caraxes”

He dismounted the Blood Wyrm. 

“Now I will need light as I go into the dark lairs of Dragonmont,” Daemon looked at his dragon, took the torch from his hip and placed it on the ground then backed away from it. The dragon made a hissing sound and turned its head.

“I do not want you to completely obliterate the damn thing. You understand, Caraxes? I just need fire to guide my path.”

The dragon stared, and Daemon sensed he understood.

“Good,” Daemon replied, “Dracarys!”

Caraxes blew a small amount of fire onto the grass next to the torch. Dameon walked over, placed the torch in the small blaze of flames. A shrill screech came from the west and Daemon looked over the cliff to see a pale white dragon spreading its wings getting ready to dive towards the sea. 

“That must be Grey Ghost,” Daemon muttered. 

Caraxes shook its head and started to make a sizzling sound. 

Daemon let out a chuckle, “It would be wise to leave the she-dragon alone. Wild dragons are best left to their own devices.”

Caraxes let out a screech. 

“Another day, Caraxes. Kill anything or anyone who tries to enter this cave.”

The dragon bowed its head in submission and Daemon looked at it one last time before entering the smoky dark void of the caves. 

—--

A gentle hum of an Old Valyrian song came from him as he wandered. It had been hours. Daemon was certain of that. It must have been a new day. It was becoming more difficult to avoid his emotions while in this dark place. He found himself remembering the funeral of his daughter, Visenya, and staring into the pile of ash that took her place. The thought of Viseyrs being murdered by the Hightowers made his blood boil, but grief quickly cooled his anger. That was the first time he wished they could go back to simpler times. Before Aemma’s death, when Rhaenyra– Rhaenyra . He had blocked out all thought of her in these fleeting hours. What of Rhaenyra? A small tinge of pain hit him. Was she not equally mourning over the same losses?  A foreign feeling of guilt started to wash over him. She once said she needed him at Driftmark. Yet he wasn’t there for her when she was abed, nor when she needed him with the council at this very moment. He had barely spoken to her except for when they were around the painted table. Guilt was a feeling that didn’t sit well with him. Instead, he pushed it down, choosing numbness over feeling. He had more pressing matters. Dragons. This would be his way to protect Rhaenyra, to serve her. 

He stopped his humming as he came to a fork in his path. Each corridor leading to more nothingness. He waited for a stirring or sound, but nothing came. All he could hear was his breath and the crackling of the torch in his hand. He was not familiar with these dark corridors like the ones in the Red Keep. No this was different. Uncharted. Undisturbed. The only evidence of travel being that of the owner of this particular lair. 

A subtle rush of air came from the path on his right. He pivoted on his heels. He continued his lullaby singing it softly.

Drakari pykiros

Tīkummo jemiros

Yn lantyz bartossa

Saelot vāedis

Hen ñuhā elēnī:

Perzyssy vestretis

Se gēlȳn irūdaks

Ānogrose

Perzyro udrȳssi

Ezīmptos laehossi

Hārossa letagon

Aōt vāedan

Perzyro udrȳssi

Ezīmptos laehossi

Hārossa letagon

Aōt vāedan

Hae mērot gierūli:

Se hāros bartossi

Prūmȳsa sōvīli

Gevī dāerī

He continued until he entered a vast chamber and could hear the breathing of a dragon. He gently sat his torch on the ground and finished his song. The creature began to stir in the dark and a guttural growl emerged from it. The dragoon moved forward, raising its head way above Daemon. It breathed fire onto the obsidian ceiling, making the warm lair scorching temperatures. He had not seen this dragon since his grandsire, Jaehaerys’ reign. He understood why they called him the Bronze Fury. The creature looked into his eyes and he felt a connection with it. Blood magic seemed to appease the dragon for a moment. Vermirthor let out long breaths and looked at Daemon. Its large snout was only about 4 feet from him, but it did not frighten him.

“ Vermithor, zaldrīzes bearer hen dārys Jaehaerys II, the Iron Throne has been taken by one not worthy to carry the legacy of your last rider. The House Targaryen needs your aid in reclaiming it.The battlefield calls you to it. Now is the time to put Westeros to flames like Balerion once did. ” 

Vermithor screeched.

“I would not do you the dishonor. It is your choice to decide who will lead you into battle, one worthy of your title, the Bronze Fury.”

The dragon continued to stare at Daemon.

“I will call when I have found riders that are acceptable to you.”

The Bronze Fury remained silent, but Daemon understood its intent. 

“I will take my leave. Our next meeting will be fruitful, geros ilas”.

Daemon carefully grabbed his torch from the floor and started his melody again. The beast settled back into its restful position and started silently at Daemon as he exited the chamber. Slowly backing up towards the corridors he had transversed. 

When Daemon emerged from the depths of the cave, Caraxes stirred from its sitting position ready for flight. A storm had passed through since he had last been outside. The remnants of water and rain were evident in the puddles and the color of the sky. It had to have been afternoon by now given the position of the sun. Now that Daemon knew Verminthor’s location he needed to ensure that someone would ride him. His first thought was that of his daughter Rhena. She had yet to have a mount. For now while there was still light he would survey Dragonmont on Caraxes for other lairs. 

Daemon mounted Caraxes and they soared into the sky to circle the black mountain. Daemon took note of the caverns that sat near the base of the mount on its eastern side. There was also a spot near one of the steaming air vents that had the markings of a dragon. He noted a few others as they surveyed the mountain for a while longer. Soon the light was gone and now it was time to return to Dragonstone with a plan. The Blacks would have more dragons, and Daemon felt more confident of that now than the day past. Caraxes landed onto a beach near one of the entrances back into his ancestral home.

Daemon dismounted and Caraxes growled then screeched. Daemon turned his attention to 3 men that were running towards him. He arched his brow in question. They looked to be envoys. One had a scroll of paper in hand. The look on their faces was that of urgency. 

They approached him, and Daemon had to reassure Caraxes that they were no threat. 

“I have never seen men approach a dragon willingly,” Daemon said. 

“My Prince, we have urgent news from Storm’s End.”

“I hope Lord Baratheon means to keep his oath?”

The men looked nervous, afraid to speak.

“Ah, I knew the prideful twat was growing fat on ale and lamb. It’s made him grow dumb.”

They looked unsure of how to respond. The man carrying the scroll started to stumble on his words, “No-Prince, it–I-um–”

“Stop stumbling on your tongue. Out with it!”

“Prince Lucerys is dead along with his dragon, Arrax.”

Daemon’s gaze turned serious, “What do you mean?”

“Prince Lucerys was seen being chased by Vhagar from Storm’s End. Witnesses saw pieces of Arrax falling from the sky.”

“Why was Lucerys at Storm’s End?”

“The Queen sent him as an envoy to see if Lord Baratheon was true to his house’s word. It would seem the Greens had sent Aemond there as well.”

“Damn those kinslayers! Of course, the Hightowers have been busy getting every lord in Westeros to bow down to an usurped throne. Aemond will pay for this crime. What of Jacerys?”

“The prince was sent to the Vale and then to Winterfell.”

“Does the Queen know of..Lucerys?”

“She does not. We have only just received word and were entrusted with delivering it.”

Daemon gestured for the man to hand over the scroll. Daemon broke the seal, and the grief finally punched him in the stomach. Lucerys was dead. The emotions of the past 48 hours started to boil over. Caraxes started to stir and screech as Daemon stared blankly at the paper in his hands. Silent for a moment too long. The men were nervous of the Blood Wyrm’s sudden movements, and the prince’s silence.

“You may leave, and tell no one of this. I will deliver this news to the Queen myself.”

The envoys left, leaving Daemon alone with his emotions. His eyes glossed over with unshed tears, and his hand shook as he crushed the paper in his hands and let it fall onto the sand. A hand wiped over his face. How much loss could his family handle? He handle? A brother, a father, a daughter, and now a son. A beloved son . 

Daemon wanted nothing more than to see the kinslayers’ demise. He would make them pay for every crime and treason. Somehow the grief was engulfing him, distracting him from his rage. Rhaenyra needed to know. His heart tightened at the thought of his dear lady wife’s reaction to this news. He looked at Dragonstone and let out a shaky breath.

Chapter Text

Rhaenyra’s head was spinning, her ears rang loudly, and her own pulse throbbed in her ears. A tear started to roll down her cheek. She had depleted all her vengeance into the planning of this war, into revenge for her son. A realization dawned on her that she had not cried since Daemon had told her that news. More tears started to fall from her eyes as the weight of the past week overwhelmed her. She hadn’t felt this alone since her mothers passing. Rhaenyra collapsed onto the chaise of her lonely chambers and started to convulsively sob. 

She cried for her father. She wept for her only daughter, and the loss of one of her precious sons. How she fought for him to be seen as a legitimate heir because to her he was. She would never see him grow into the brave Lord of Driftmark. His laughter would never fill the halls of Dragonstone again, and he would never again run to his mother for comfort and reassuring words. They would never get to honor him with a proper funeral rite. 

Rhaenyra thought she knew what grief and loss felt like.The loss of her mother, and even her lover, ached but she didn’t really know agony until the death of her children. It was then Rhaenyra felt a hand on her back. 

She looked with her red eyes to see Daemon kneeling beside her. His eyes shone with unshed tears and exhaustion. He was only wearing an undershirt now looking vulnerable, nothing like the raging dragon that was exacting a swift revenge, hell bent on war only hours ago. Instead of speaking Daemon quietly sang in High Valyrian while gently stroking her back. 

“Zyhys oñoso jehikagon Aeksiot epi..”

Rhaenyra’s heart ached at the words, and the melody she knew well. It was one her mother would sing to her as a child, and one she had heard Daemon sing to their sons Aegon and Viserys as infants. The words never resonated or made more sense than they did now. 

“Zyhys perzys stepagon Aeksio Oño jorepi, 

se morghultas lys qelitsos sikagon.

Hen syndrorro, oños. 

Hen perzys, hen ñuqir, perzys. 

Hen syndrorro, oños. 

Hen ñuqir, perzys. 

Hen morghot, glaeson .” 

Rhaenyra’s tears had subsided and instead she silently sat up and wrapped her arms around Daemon. He was still for a moment but then returned the embrace. It was the first time they had had this sort of touch in a long time. They held each other tightly. No words were shared, just the comfort of each other’s embrace. For a couple used to debating, they never had words for their more intimate feelings. Tomorrow they will be fighting a war. All they had was this moment. She missed his embrace, the heat radiating from his body, his solid frame, and his comforting smell. 

After a time she relaxed her embrace and rested her forehead on Daemon’s. She kept her eyes closed but could feel the gentle caress of his fingers on her face and neck. Their breathing naturally came into sync as they familiarized themselves with each other's presence. There were too many words to be said and feelings that could not be explained. Dragons understood dragons.

Daemon’s thumb gently brushed her cheek, wiping away any remaining tears. 

“ñuha jorrāelagon,” Daemon spoke softly. 

Rhaenyra had a small tired smile and opened her eyes to stare back at the equally broken person in front of her. She moved her hand to gently cup his face. A sad smile grazed his lips and a moment of unsaid understanding passed between them. He turned his face to kiss the inside of her palm. Daemon’s eyes drifted to Rheanyra’s lips and back to her eyes only to go back to her parted lips. He leaned in and Rhaenyra kissed him tenderly. She placed her hand on the back of his head. She could feel his hand move to her back and the other to support him on the chaise. Their lips parted again just for them to be reunited again. The spark between them was roaring back to life. 

He gently separated his lips from Rhaenyra to look at her and gently moved the hair from her face. Then his lips left lingering kisses all over her face. His lavender eyes grew dark as he stared into her violet eyes. Rhaenyra knew that he looked at no other like this. Daemon had a mischievous smirk on his face, one that reminded her of the prince who offered up his crown all those years ago. 

“You are blushing, Rhaenyra .”

She let out a laugh in spite of herself. He let out a small chuckle in response. 

“I assure you it is from the tears.”

“You wound me, my Queen.”

She responded by grabbing his face and kissing him again with more fervor than before. He stood up from his spot on the floor and looked at Rhaenyra with the strange mix of affection and desire. Rhaenyra pulled him on top of her on the chaise. It felt good to have Daemon’s full weight on her body. She didn’t know how much she had yearned for this. Them. They paused for a moment enjoying the simple novelty of the moment. Daemon traced Rhaenyra’s lips with his fingers. Daemon looked as if he was contemplating something.

“You gave birth a couple of days ago.”

“I want you.”

“As do I, but we both know you are in no condition to make love. In fact I came here to retrieve you.”

“For what?” Rhaenyra took the tie holding back part of his hair, releasing it in protest. His free hair fell into her face.

“The maids have prepared your bath.”

“And?”

“Unfortunately, you smell.”

“This may be true but at least I do not reek of dragon,” Rhaeynra said while mock scrunching her nose. 

“That is why, I wanted to ask if the Queen might let me join her.”

She smiled, “You may.”

Unceremoniously, Daemon picked up Rhaenyra and carried her to the bath before setting her on her feet and ridding her of the small shift she had been wearing. Daemon took a moment to step back and stare at her naked form, marred by age and childbirth, “Beautiful.”

Rhaenyra smiled and stepped forward, taking his shirt off and letting it fall to the floor. She looked at his lean form with all its scars and had an approving look. 

He gave her a chaste kiss before stepping into the large tub and settling down, “Come, my wife.”

Rhaenyra settled into the spot in front of Daemon and leaned into him and hummed, relishing in the feeling of their bare skin touching. They silently bathed and Daemon carefully washed Rhaenyra’s long hair with reverence. 

Daemon moved her hair over her shoulder to reveal her delicate neck and planted a kiss on it. Daemon smirked when he heard her breaths shorten. He continued to leave scorching kisses along her bare shoulder and then caressed his fingers gently over her other arm. Her breathing increased and he moved his lips back to his favorite spot right between her shoulder and neck. He continued and she gasped as he sucked harder on the spot. He finally bit her hard and she let out a sound. 

“You said we were only here to bathe,” Rhaenyra said breathlessly. 

“We are.” Daemon kissed the back of her neck while letting one of his hands caress its way towards her breasts. 

“Daemon,” she said with false warning. 

“ Rhaenyra, ” his hand gently touched her chest, and he began to pleasure her there. He pressed his mouth to her ear, “Even though it might be too soon to make love there are alternate ways we can find pleasure. And I want to please my Queen .”

His hot breath sent goosebumps down her neck and shoulders. Daemon continued with his mouth on the other side of her neck causing a shiver to go down her spine. He gently sucked and bit her, making her desire for him increase. She could feel his member on her back throbbing in response to her moans. His other wandering hand gently trailed the inside of her thigh causing her to bite back a moan. He paused for a moment to touch her breasts in the way that pleased her. She cried out, and his other hand reached for the small spot in between her legs. 

Rhaenyra let out loud moans, and turned her head to kiss Daemon on the mouth while he was busy with his hands. She moaned into his mouth and he plunged his tongue into her mouth. This searing kiss reminded her of that moment they shared on the Streets of Silk long ago. Daemon slowed down his movements before she bit his lower lip, making him groan. She could feel that he was fully hard on her back; she made a small smile and licked her lips. Daemon’s voice came out breathy, “You will come when I tell you to, little dragon. “

He placed his hand in between her legs and she could feel herself throbbing as the desire was growing there and radiating throughout her body. She was close. 

“Not yet,” Daemon said while biting into her shoulder. Her desire cooled slightly until Daemon continued with his hands, his skilled hands. 

“Daemon! Please!” 

He stopped touching her waiting for her arousal to calm. He lightly played with her breast until he let his hand trail down to her legs. She shivered in anticipation and Daemon’s mouth was breathing into her ear as he nibbled on the back of it. His fingers started to get to work and her arousal came back stronger than she remembered. Moans came out involuntary from her mouth as she was riding the waves of pleasure Daemon was creating in her body. When she came she yelled, “ Va moriot”

Then Daemon spoke breathily into her ear, “ Iksā ñuhon”

She could still feel herself throbbing from the powerful orgasms as Daemon was letting his hand feel her pleasure. He smirked, and they sat in the tub until their breathing returned to a normal rate.

Daemon started to shift and left a reverent kiss on her shoulder, “Let us ready ourselves for bed.”

Daemon left the tub and went to grab a towel to wipe himself down. While he was wiping his face he could sense Rhaenyra’s eyes on him. He looked at her. Her eyes were filled with warmth, and she had a small smile on her lips. She was admiring him. 

Daemon walked over to her with a dry towel in his hand as Rhaenyra stayed in the tub looking at him. He reached for her hand and she grabbed it, letting her thumb mindlessly stroke. They stared at each other in amiable silence for a while. Enjoying this moment of reprieve, feeling as if they were in sync again. 

Rhaenyra stood up and Daemon wrapped the towel around her shoulders and kissed her on the temple. She let out a chuckle, and Daemon arched his brow to look at her.

“What is it, ñuha jorrāelagon?”

“If we make haste to bed, I might be able to show the King of the Narrow Sea how much I appreciate his service to the Queen?”

Daemon smiled at her and let out an easy laugh, “Who am I to stop the Queen?”

He lifted her up and they laughed as he carried her to their shared bed. Tomorrow could wait.