"𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐃𝐚𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐚 𝐕𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐝, 𝐋𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐯𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐫𝐚 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞."

━━━ 𝐀𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐦𝐚𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐆𝐲𝐥𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐧, 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞 & 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐇𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐖𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐬

Evaenyra had been quiet for the whole flight.  At first, she'd curled into the makeshift sling, attempting to make sense of her surroundings.  Then Caraxes let out a screech and the babe actually laughed.  Daemon hummed a Valyrian lullaby as he made his way from Runstone to King's Landing, only allowing himself this semblance of vulnerability when he knew he was alone in the skies above Westeros.

He'd timed his flight so he would arrive during the opening feast.  He hoped most noble families had been shepherded into the Keep already, allowing for his arrival on Visenya's hill to go unnoticed by his brother for as long as possible.

The previous moon's turn had been one of many firsts for Daemon.  After planning his arrival at the wedding feast, he decided to take refuge on Runestone for the interval.  He surprised himself by his reliance on Maester Elwyn, who always made sure Evaenyra was attended and cared for. 

Throughout his days at Runestone, he found himself nervous whenever Evaenyra wasn't with himself or Elwyn, a prospect that was quite new to him.  While he'd always figured he would have children one day, but he never imagined he would be quite as doting as a father.

But alas, no matter how much Daemon wanted Evaenyra to be near him, he didn't know the first thing about bonding with a baby.  So most nights, he ended up resorting to reading books to her in High Valyrian by the fireside of the main antechamber.  He knew she wasn't comprehending a lick of what he was saying, but for some reason, he didn't care and kept on reading regardless.

And when the days grew closer to the wedding celebrations, Daemon dealt with the inner turmoil of what would happen after his appearance at the feast.  If Viserys reconciled with him, would he stay at the Keep?  Raise his daughter in that den of vipers?  Or would he leave, for Dragonstone? Essos?

He'd never been one for overthinking but now he felt overwhelmed by the idea of thinking more than one step ahead.

When he looked down at Evaenyra, as she laid snuggled in his arms, he realized just how completely and totally lost he really was. 

She was his responsibility, though, he knew that much.  It wasn't just about finding a place of importance for himself anymore, he also needed to find one for his daughter.  His daughter was a Targaryen princess, and he would make sure she would receive nothing but the best.

Landing atop Visenya's hill, he dismounted Caraxes much more carefully than he usually did.  Evaenyra had begun stirring in the sling, and Daemon unwrapped the extra linens to reveal his daughter, cooing in a state between sleep and waking.

He began to make his way down the Street of Steel, wondering if he should take the secret passages into the Keep, or if he should simply walk in with all the other guests.  Surely Viserys wouldn't go as far as to bar the guards from letting him enter the Keep, especially during a family celebration?  Daemon didn't want to find out, though he knew taking the secret passages presented far too much danger that he did not want to place Evaenyra in.

The Red Keep loomed larger and larger the closer he got to the front gates, and for the first time in many years, he found himself nervous to face his brother.

His older brother, who got everything, was adored by everyone.  And Daemon was one of those admirers, he couldn't help but admit.  All he ever wanted was to be apart of his brother's legacy, even if he himself wouldn't be the one sitting the throne.  And all his brother had done was push him away in favor of outsiders like Otto Hightower.

It was time Daemon stopped relying on his brother to help him make his way in the world.  He'd begun his own legacy with his success in the Stepstones, and now he'd continue it with Evaenyra.

As he approached the outer gates to the courtyard of the Keep, it was surprisingly easy to walk by unseen.  That was, until he came upon the groupings of nobles, who were stepping out of wheelhouses and waiting for entry while a steward checked off names on a list.  Once the first lord with any sense of observational wisdom looked his way, the whispers began.

Daemon ignored their blathering, and walked through the front gate with a simple nod to one of his former City Watch charges.  He glided past the line of waiting nobility, cutting to the front.  He waited a few moments for the current front group to be let in, the Redwynes of the Arbor, if he had to guess, then intercepted the steward.

The man seemed nervous as Daemon approached him, but he attempted to bow, "Prince Daemon, I assume you are here for the celebrations?"

Giving the man a strained look, Daemon spoke, "Of course I am.  How could I miss my beloved niece's nuptials?"

It was then that the steward noticed the babe in his arms, "My Prince, we heard talk of the birth, but King Viserys had yet to make a formal announcement."

Daemon smirked, turning the bundle Evaenyra was wrapped in to the steward, "This is the Princess Evaenyra, my daughter.  I seek to introduce her to my family at tonight's celebrations."

Sending a small smile to the babe, the steward moved out of the way so that Daemon could enter the inner courtyard.  As he walked, he looked down at Evaenyra, who was blinking her watery eyes rapidly.  He found a soft smile sneaking on to his face as he touched her cheek gently, "I suppose I'm going to need to start bringing you everywhere with me, won't I?"

Evaenyra simply stared up at him with her blue irises, surely inherited from her Royce heritage.  Something in Daemon melted in that moment.

He continued through front halls, following the swarm of people to the Throne Room.  As Ladies of the Realm passed him by, they eyed the babe in his arms, either cooing at the child or turning to their companions to gossip.

House Targaryen and Velaryon banners adorned the outer halls and he sought solace in a small cordoned off area outside the Throne Room entrance.  He waited for more ladies and lords to pass through the doors, listening keenly for the announcements of which houses were entering the celebration.  He figured that the best time for his entrance would be when he had a full audience of people.  People his brother would not want to embarrass himself in front of.  Viserys would have no choice but to allow him entrance to the feast with the realm as an audience and his daughter in his arms.

He noticed nobody passing by his hiding spot, not even servants, and so as he listened to the dulled clamor of the celebration, he began to hum the Valyrian lullaby again, softly, ensuring Evaenyra's continued calm.

When he heard the announcement of House Velaryon, the guests of honor, he knew he had to strike then.  He slipped from the shadows and made his way towards the throne room entrance.  Ignoring the page that had been reading the entrances aloud, he began to walk down the large aisle that led up to the head table.

A quiet fell over the crowd, leaving only fleeting whispers.  King Viserys stood, and immediately locked eyes with Daemon.  His brother said nothing as he continued to make his way down the length of the room.

When he reached the head table, he resisted making eye contact with Rhaenyra, and kept his eyes glued to his brother's.  Viserys' eyes rested upon the small bundle in Daemon's arms.

"Brother," Daemon spoke.  He feared Viserys was aghast with shock and that he might not answer, but the King found his words moments later.

"This must be your daughter.  I was sorry to hear of the Lady Rhea Royce's passing," Viserys spoke cordially, but almost anybody in the room might have picked up on the edge in his voice.

"She valiantly gave her life so that our daughter might live," Viserys nodded, glancing to one of the side tables where Rhea's cousin, Ser Gerold, sat with an unreadable expression on his face.  He then turned to face the crowd again.

"Let me be the first to formally announce, Princess Evaenyra Targaryen.  Daughter of my brother, Prince Daemon, and the late Lady Rhea Royce.  She is a fine addition to House Targaryen."  Viserys concluded the speech with a raise of his cup, in which the crowd followed suit.

Nearby servants had pulled up a chair on the side of the head table for Daemon, and with a nod to the crowd and a flit of contentious eye contact with Viserys, he made his way to the chair. Another servant brought a small wooden bassinet to sit beside his chair, but Daemon shook his head, indicating that at least for now, he wished to hold his daughter.

Viserys seemed recovered from the momentary distraction of Daemon's entrance, and began to speak, "Be welcome, as we join together in celebration.  Tonight is only its beginning.  We honor the crown's oldest and fiercest ally, House Velaryon.  Reaching back to the days of Old Valyria and the Age of Dragons.  With House Targaryen and-," the King's speech was cut short.

All eyes drifted to the entrance to the Throne Room, where the Queen stood.  She primly held her hands in front of her, then moved to daintily lift the skirts of the deep green dress she wore.  Faint whispers began amongst the crowd, but most remembered at least to stand in honor of the queen.

Daemon remained sitting, hoping the babe in his arms would give him excuse enough to not have to stand for the Hightower girl who was only one part of the rot that Oldtown has set upon the crown.  As Alicent made her way up the steps of the dais and to the head table, Daemon sent her an antagonistic glare, even though he knew the girl wouldn't see it.

Armored in her silk, she addressed Rhaenyra with an icy tone, "Congratulations, stepdaughter, what a blessing this is for you."  Daemon kept his eyes on Rhaenyra's reaction as Alicent kissed Viserys' cheek and took her place at the head table. 

The young bride almost resisted his glance, but when she caught Daemon's eye, an understanding passed between them.  The way that they could communicate with a look was reminiscent of the cryptic tradition between them of speaking in Valyrian.  They understood each other on an intricate level that nobody else seemed to. 

Rhaenyra's message was clear: Alicent was no longer her friend.  Daemon wondered if Rhaenyra even knew what caused such a fallout, but he reminded himself to inquire about it later in the evening.

Viserys noticed the tension between nearly every member of his family sitting at the table.  Attempting to gain some semblance of control back, he made eye contact with his Hand, Lyonel Strong, who gave him an imperceptible nod.  The King attempted to continue his speech as if the interruption had never occurred.

"Please be seated," and the lords and ladies of the realm obeyed.  Viserys failed to hold back a cough, then looked to Lyonel again in pleading.  He whispered to the Hand, "Where was I?"

Daemon frowned as Lyonel reminded the King on his place in the speech.  His brother was getting more decrepit by the day, and soon there would be nothing left of the boy he'd always looked up to.  If only Viserys knew that, at his core, all he wanted to do was help.

"The joining of the two houses, Your Grace," Lyonel whispered back, a concerned expression painting his face.  Still, he gave the Viserys a reassuring nod.

Viserys cleared his throat, muttering under his breath, "Yes, yes," and regaining his composure, with the help of a soft look from Rhaenyra, he continued his speech, "With House Targaryen and House Velaryon united, I hope to herald in a second Age of Dragons in Westeros."

The attendees erupted in cheers, and knights struck their fists on the wooden tables, creating a rumbling that egged on more delight from the crowd, "And after tonight's small affair," Viserys sarcastically joked, earning laughter from the lords and ladies, "seven days of tournament and feasting." More clapping and jeers from the masses, before they quieted down once more to let the King finish his speech, "And at the end of it all, a royal wedding, between my daughter, my heir, your future Queen, and Ser Laenor Velaryon, the heir to Driftmark."  The clapping continued as Viserys sat down.

A deep drumming began from the other side of the Throne Room, as Laenor and Rhaenyra exited the head table in order to perform the customary Dance of Dragons, a Valyrian cultural dance performed when both marital parties hail from Old Valyria.

As the dance finished, and Rhaenyra and Laenor brought down their outstretched arms, and the room burst out in applause once more.  Unable to clap with Evaenyra in his arms, Daemon simply smirked at the seemingly happy couple that held everybody's attention.

Alicent removed herself from the table the moment that the dance floor began to fill, though it didn't seem to Daemon that she had dancing in mind.  Predictably, she made her way to her Hightower kin and struck up a conversation. 

Another drum tune filled the hall, and Evaenyra began to coo at the odd music.  Daemon was unsure if he should take to the floor himself, but he didn't have much time to consider before he was approached by Ser Gerold Royce.

"Ser Gerold," Daemon greeted, his overconfidence dripping through his tone like poisoned honey.

"I see my cousin's sacrifice has not been for nothing," the Valeman spoke, his tone clipped.  However, his face softened when he noticed Evaenyra.

"Yes, well Lady Rhea and I were not were not the closest of husbands and wives, but I can appreciate what she did to bring my daughter into the world," Daemon kept his expression and voice clear and concise, attempting to not let resentment nor concern muddle his words.

"And will Evaenyra be raised in Runestone?  She is technically the Lady of Runestone now, though a regent will be placed until she is of age.  As my uncle, Lord Yorbert, has passed, I am likely to become regent myself.  We would take care of Evaenyra with the utmost care," Ser Gerold kept a watchful eye on Daemon's expression.

"While the Princess will make a wonderful Lady of Runestone, just like her mother, it seems her upbringing should be more befitting of her father's house.  She should stay with me for now, I believe," Daemon's answer was clearly not to Ser Gerold's liking, though the Valeman tried hard not to show it.

"As you wish, my Prince.  You and the Princess are always welcome back at Runestone, as well as any dragon that young Evaenyra might claim," Ser Gerold's words made Daemon squint at the man, but he eventually realized whatever fight he might start would not be worth it.

"I appreciate your understanding, that she be raised according to her Valyrian background.  Feel free to write whenever about the affairs of Runestone, I'm sure Evaenyra would love to visit sometime in the future," Daemon's offer was a clear end to the conversation, and Ser Gerold seemingly understood.  He gave a curt yet awkward nod to the Prince, and one last glance at the babe Princess, then returned to his seat.

Daemon began to wonder on the confidence of his words.  He claimed Evaenyra would be raised at his side, as a true Targaryen princess, and he was determined to make that true.  But in his heart he knew he could not truly do it alone.  Evaenyra needed a mother.

He looked upon the dance floor, wondering if any of them would be worthy to help raise his daughter.  He would not trust the task to just anybody.  He knew it would need to be someone who understood and respected what it meant to be a Targaryen.  Rhaenyra would have been perfect, but alas he seemed to have miss his opportunity on that front.

It was then that his eye caught a lithe figure stand from the edge of the head table, making her way to the dance floor with a mischievous smile on her face.  Laena Velaryon.

Daemon didn't know much about Laena, he was loath to admit, but what he did know intrigued him.  She had recently claimed Vhagar from the Dragonmont on Dragonstone, a feat that Daemon greatly respected.  He also knew that she had been one of the contenders for Viserys' hand after Aemma's death.  And even though he hated Alicent Hightower with a burning passion, it seemed right that Laena, who'd been much younger at the time, had been spared from the fate of being Viserys' forgotten and put aside queen.

For a moment, he forgot that he was supposed to be finding a partner to help raise Evaenyra with.  He simply looked at Laena, with her pale curls and gold finery, and was captivated by her.

He stood without realizing.  The Hand, Lyonel Strong, looked at him questioningly.  While the man was surely better than Otto Hightower could ever be, he hesitated before he asked the man to watch his daughter.  Setting Evaenyra in the bassinet the servants had brought earlier, he addressed the Hand, "Lord Lyonel, would you mind keeping an eye on the Princess while I briefly join the festivities?"

Lyonel looked taken aback, and his mouth hung open in surprise.  He lightly narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but after looking over to see the darling babe cooing in the bassinet, he sighed in a tolerant irritation, "Of course, my Prince, it would be an honor."

"Wonderful!" Daemon brightly said, reveling in the annoyance on Lyonel's face.  He stood, patting the man on the shoulder gruffly, before making his way to the dance floor.

When he found himself navigating through the throngs of dancing lords and ladies, he cut a path to Laena, who had been dancing with an uninteresting looking lord from the Reach.  He used the switching of partners built into the music, and slid in next to Laena.

"Has anybody ever told you you're nearly as pretty as your brother?" Daemon inquired, hoping that she would she would take the joke in good fun.

Her eyes glimmer with a sense of humor, "You flatter me, my Prince," she responded as she continued the steps of the dance, "I was sorry to hear about your lady wife."

Daemon smiled at her in a bittersweet manner, "Yes, well at least I have my daughter to console me."  He was aghast in his own head about how naturally the words came out.  He meant to play the grieving widow, acting up his sorrows, but he found that at least his words about Evaenyra, were true.

"I was happy to hear that she was hale and healthy, especially considering the circumstances of her birth," Laena admitted, true consolation sheathing the pleasantries.

"You may come to meet her, if you like, I brought her along to be formally introduced to my brother," Daemon suggested, holding his arm out to spin Laena around when the swell of the music rang out.

"I'm not sure anybody could've missed the elaborate entrance you gave earlier," she jested.

"I'm well known for my supposed theatricality, as I understand it," he found himself falling, becoming more and more entranced with her as both the conversation and the dance moved along.

"You do have a reputation, but an impressive one from my perspective," Laena gracefully moved her arms in the imitation of a dragon, while Daemon raised his brow at her comment, "A Targaryen prince, a dashing knight, and a dragonrider.  You appear to be every young maiden's dream."

Smirking, Daemon extended his hand to continue the steps, "That's only because you don't know me yet."

"Perhaps that is something we might remedy, my Prince," she casually suggests, seemingly enchanted by his charm.  Though Daemon thought that it might as well have been the other way around.

"Perhaps it is," Daemon lightly kissed her hand and and gave her a nod as the dancers on the floor began to disperse.

Daemon made his way to the side of the dance floor while Laena searched for a new partner.  Watching the dance floor with care, he made eye contact with his brother every so often, who looked at him with cautious contempt.

Eventually, he noticed that Rhaenyra was dancing with Ser Harwin.  He knew this was his only chance to likely be able to talk to her all night, and that talking to her afterwards was not an option under Viserys' watchful eye.

He cut his way through the crowd, placing his arm on Ser Harwin's shoulder, "May I, Ser Harwin?"

The looming knight gave a curt nod and reply, "Of course, my Prince."

Daemon took Ser Harwin's place, though both Daemon and Rhaenyra had ceased any form of actual dancing.

"Jaelā līr kesir issa?" He inquired, his voice losing all of it's sarcasm and bite.

("Is this what you want?")

Rhaenyra looked him up and down before puffing out her chin in an attempt of intimidation, "Jaelun līr avy jenissus, gīmīlon daor."

("I was not aware that what I wanted mattered to you.")

Almost cutting her off, Daemon's reply came hot and angry, "Kesir aō syt iksos daor," he hissed, "Laenor sȳz vala se gīmije azantys issa. Avy ēdruliot ilzīlza."

("This is not for you.  Laenor is a good man and a fine knight.  He will bore you senseless.")

Rolling her eyes, Rhaenyra bit back, throwing Daemon's past words against him, "Idīnnon dēmalio syt verdilla mērī issa, rȳban."

("Marriage is only a political arrangement, I hear.")

Daemon could almost grin at her statement, pleased to see the Rhaenyra he knew back and seemingly stronger than ever.  But he placated his features, attempting to not give away any of his thoughts or misgivings.  Instead, he said the one thing that might bring Rhaenyra back to him, "Ñuhon hen ñāqē qertaks."

("Mine was recently dissolved.")

Rhaenyra gave him a credulous and skeptical look, and Daemon thought perhaps that maybe he should've used kinder words to lament of Rhea.  He doesn't have much time to consider it though, before Rhaenyra's next words took the breath from his lungs.

"Sepār yne dārlīs. Kesir ondurilla īlos daor? Nyke sīr dīntoks daor. Yn elēdrar aderior issa," she raised her chin in defiance, her tone cold yet full of Targaryen dragonfire, "Sīlāvose azandomy iksā. Ñuho kepo Mīsȳri ropakās. Zaldrīzdōrot yne maghās se ābrazȳrys aōhys sagon ynot sahās."

("So take me, then.  Has this not been your purpose?  I am not yet married, but the hours pass swiftly.  You are surely armed.  Cut through my father's Kingsguard.  Take me to Dragonstone and make me your wife.")

A possessive fire takes a hold of Daemon as he brings his hand to the back of Rhaenyra's neck, pulling her face closer to his.  He didn't know which eyes laid on him in that moment, but he didn't care.  He tightened his jaw and began to reply before a scream rung out in the hall.

In a moment, he lost Rhaenyra in the horde of panicking nobleman.  He was violently thrown in one direction, while he presumed Rhaenyra was taken in the other.  He heard the violent strikes of fist against head and head against floor.  Daemon couldn't tell who the perpetrator or the victim was, but he needed to get out.  He needed to get Rhaenyra out.  And Laena had also still been on the dance floor as well.

And that was when he heard a different kind of cry.

From the far end of the Throne Room, he heard the shrill cry of a babe.  It was Evaenyra.  It was his daughter.

Suddenly, all his worries were forgotten and he focused in on one goal, getting out of the mass of people and to his daughter.  He wasn't ashamed that he pushed multiple people out of his way, especially when he made it to the side of the room, outside of the dance floor and long dinner tables that had been set up on either side.

He saw Lyonel Strong attempting and failing to get Evaenyra to stop crying.  The Hand looked up at the sound of Viserys calling Rhaenyra's name.  Daemon traced Lyonel's expression in the crowd, and found it ending at Ser Harwin.  With a nod from his father, Ser Harwin began pushing his way through the crowd in pursuit of the Princess.

Daemon rushed up the dais to the edge of the head table, where Lyonel was more than happy to hand Evaenyra off to him.  He gathered her up in his arms, and only took his eyes off her for a moment.  He glanced at his brother, who, though worried about Rhaenyra, gave him a nod of permission to leave the Throne Room.

Perhaps they truly understood each other now.  They both had a daughter that they would move the Seven Heavens and Hells for.  That had to be worth something.

Daemon made his way out a side entrance, going the opposite way of the Targaryen castle guards who made began to fill the hall in throes.  Evaenyra's discordant screams continued.

He found a small room off in an adjoining hall, where the panic and chaos of the celebration feast became muffled and forgotten.

And he began to hum the Valyrian lullaby yet again, hoping that his daughter would calm now that she was back safe in his arms.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

After the scene had been cleared of the feast's attendees, Daemon set back the way he had come.  A pair of guards held the body of Ser Joffrey Lonmouth, while a set of Silent Sisters trailed ominously behind them.  The knight's face had been horribly smashed in and Daemon found himself shielding the bundle in his arms from the gore.  Evaenyra couldn't understand what was going on, but he still found himself wanting to shield her from the blood and battle he'd once yearned for.

Viserys was sitting at the head table as Grand Maester Mellos attended him.  His brother looked ragged and worn, proof that stress made his condition worsen.  Daemon approached him tentatively.

"Brother," Daemon said.

The King looked up, meeting Daemon's eyes, "Is the babe alright?"  Worry cinched his brow as Mellos dabbed the sweat off his forehead with a linen cloth.

"She's alright, the screaming just scared her, I think," Daemon felt like an imposter in the conversation immediately.  Last he'd spoken privately with his brother, he'd been denounced and spat on, and now the brothers were one in the same, fraught over the safety of their children.

"Rhaenyra will wed Ser Laenor tonight, in a private ceremony.  I've canceled the rest of the events for the rest of the week," he almost couldn't finish his reply, breaking out in a fit of coughs.

"That is probably for the best," Daemon nodded, unsure of where he stood with his brother.

When Viserys's coughing ceased, he took a swift glance at Evaenyra, then focused back on Daemon, "I think it's better if you aren't here for the ceremony."

Daemon felt the knife of rejection settle in his chest, "Of course," he attempted to save face, but he knew Viserys could see right through him, "Perhaps I'll take Evaenyra to Dragonstone, or Essos."

Viserys' face reflected something bittersweet, "That would be nice.  Fatherhood seems to suit you nicely."

Short of acceptance into his heart, Viserys said the one thing that could make Daemon crumble.  The King gave his brother a nod, and Daemon found himself walking out of the hall, avoiding stepping in the blood that had pooled over the stone floor.

When he finally passed through the front doors of the Throne Room and into the palace hallways, he found himself wandering aimlessly for a moment.  And then he saw Laena.

She held a solemn aspect to her, but her face softened at the appearance of Daemon and his daughter.  Slowly, she made her way to him.

Surprising himself, Daemon spoke first, "I was sorry to hear about your brother's... companion."

Laena looked genuinely surprised at the lack of joke or malice in his manner, "Ser Joffrey's death was a disgrace, at best.  But Laenor will heal, in time."

She took another step closer to him, and let her eyes settle on Evaenyra, who had begun to fall asleep again, "This is Evaenyra," he introduced.

Her face morphed into one of genuine and pure love, "She's beautiful."

Daemon felt his breath catch in his throat as the girl lovingly stroked Evaenyra's cheek.  For the first time since he was a young and naive boy, he felt his cheeks heat in a blush.

"Laena Velaryon, would you like to marry me?"

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐯𝐞𝐞!

━━━ 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 <𝟑

━━━ 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝟏𝐱𝟎𝟓!  𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧!) 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲.

━━━  𝐢 𝐚𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐚'𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐲'𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲.  𝐥𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐚 𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐫𝐚'𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐞𝐦𝐦𝐚 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐫𝐚

━━━ 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐫𝐚, 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐢𝐧! 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫, 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧. 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢'𝐦 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬!

━━━ 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐟 𝐲'𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐫𝐚.  𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐢 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐨𝐩𝐬