Chapter 24 - Consequences and brotherly love

275 AC

Daemon Pov

Highgarden was an awe-inspiring sight, its grandeur beyond mere words. Perched upon a verdant hill overlooking the winding Mander, the castle stood encircled by three tiers of pristine white stone walls, each adorned with battlements that rose higher with every concentric ring.

Since our entry into the Reach, all that met my gaze was a panorama of lush greenery—forests, fields, and orchards stretching as far as the eye could see. It felt akin to stepping into the fabled Garden of Eden itself.

Passing through the final gate, we were greeted by Lord Mace Tyrell and his retinue, all assembled to formally welcome us to Highgarden. As my father dismounted his horse and strode towards Mace, the Lord of Highgarden knelt in deference, presenting the castle with a simple yet profound gesture, "Highgarden is yours, Your Grace," he proclaimed, his voice resonating with respect and loyalty.

Beside me, I noticed my mother alighting from the carriage, accompanied by my younger brother Daeron. At just four namedays old, Daeron was bursting with energy, his fascination fixated on the knights and the impending tournament. His long, silver locks cascaded untamed around his face, complementing the brightness of his eyes that sparkled with excitement.

As Daeron darted towards me, his impatience palpable, I reached out to tousle his hair affectionately. "Easy there, Daeron," I chuckled, trying to rein in his eagerness.

He pouted momentarily, his expression a mix of frustration and adorable innocence, but I knew better than to give in to his whims too easily.

"Daemon, you spoil him," remarked Rhaegar, his figure towering beside me clad in a black doublet embellished with a crimson dragon similar to the matching attire of our parents and Daeron, all adorned in the colors of House Targaryen. Yet, it was I who stood distinct, garbed in the resplendent hues of white and gold, the emblem of the three-headed dragon emblazoned in gilded threads upon my attire.

"Somebody has to play the part of the doting elder brother," I retorted lightly, though Rhaegar's disapproval was palpable. Daeron's attachment to me was undeniable, a bond forged through shared moments and endless adventures. In contrast, his interactions with Rhaegar were scarce, limited to fleeting encounters amidst Rhaegar's pursuits of music or scholarly endeavors in the depths of Flea Bottom or secluded libraries. The divide between them seemed to widen with each passing day, their relationship constrained by the chasm of unfamiliarity and missed opportunities for connection.

After the initial greetings between my family and the Tyrells were exchanged, it was my turn to engage with Mace Tyrell, a long-time acquaintance.

"How have you been, my friend?" I inquired warmly as Mace and I embraced.

"I've been well, Daemon, though the wedding preparations have taken quite a toll on me," Mace confessed with a wry smile.

"Ah, don't let him deceive you," interjected the Queen of Thorns, Olenna Tyrell, her sharp wit cutting through the air as she turned her gaze towards me. "All he's done is steal glances at his soon-to-be wife."

"Lady Olenna, it's a pleasure to see you again after so long," I greeted her, offering a respectful kiss to her hand.

"Don't try to charm me, Prince Daemon," she rebuffed with a playful smirk.

"Well, what can I say? Like fine wine, your wit has only improved with age," I responded, earning a hearty laugh from the matriarch.

"I see you haven't lost your sharp tongue either," Olenna remarked, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

"And you, my lady, still possess your thorns," I replied with a grin, acknowledging her renowned reputation for sharp-tongued remarks.

Following these pleasantries, Olenna summoned her daughter, Janna, to attend to us.

"Janna, show the princes to their quarters," she instructed, and I observed as Janna Tyrell, with her striking resemblance to her kin—brown hair and hazel eyes—stepped forward to lead us.

As we traversed the corridors towards our assigned chambers, I couldn't help but notice Janna's subtle admiration, particularly directed towards Rhaegar. It wasn't unusual; many noble ladies were captivated by him, whether due to his status as the Crown Prince and future king or simply good looks as I could personally attest to the fact that he was not charming at all. The journey through Highgarden's halls provided a glimpse into the richness and diversity of the Reach, with each noble house bearing its own distinct presence in this vast and bountiful land.

I was allocated adjoining rooms with Daeron, a familiar arrangement that stemmed from his preference to sleep near me at night. I suspected it was more for the bedtime stories I would weave for him than for anything else.

As I stood gazing out from the balcony, my thoughts drifted to the whirlwind of events that had transpired over the past three years.

During my father's ten-year anniversary celebration, tensions ran high as he inadvertently insulted Lady Joanna, causing a public spectacle that left Tywin Lannister on the brink of resigning from his position as Hand of the King. However, on the eve of his intended resignation, I managed to dissuade him, urging him to think rationally rather than act impulsively out of wounded pride. I reminded him that only a man lacking in wits would abandon such a crucial role.

Amidst the turmoil, the tournament held great significance, not only for the festivities but for the bonds it forged. One of the most notable connections I formed was with Jaime and Cersei Lannister. They both expressed genuine excitement as I prepared to spar with Ser Barristan Selmy, with Jaime offering enthusiastic encouragement while Cersei's attention remained fixed on Rhaegar, her fascination with the Crown Prince evident in her every gaze.

After that, life settled back into its usual rhythm until the news arrived that Lady Joanna was with child.

Knowing the tragic fate awaiting her during Tyrion's birth, I couldn't bear the thought of Tywin growing even colder and more ruthless than he already was. Despite our differences, I genuinely cared about him. In the absence of Aerys, who was preoccupied with his vices, Tywin had served as a father figure in my life along with the fact that he was my actual father.

In a desperate attempt to avert disaster, I fabricated a foreboding dream about a lioness perishing after giving birth to a malformed creature. Tywin's piercing emerald eyes bore into mine as he searched for truth in my words. Miraculously, he heeded my warning, summoning the most learned maesters to Castlery Rock. Their intervention proved crucial in saving Lady Joanna's life, though her health remained fragile, with the maesters cautioning that she would likely not survive another childbirth.

Relieved to have his wife safe, Tywin's gratitude was palpable. Yet, the most startling revelation came with Jaime's betrothal to Elia Martell and his subsequent fostering in Sunspear. Oberyn's correspondence shed light on Tywin's discovery regarding the twins. My mind raced with possibilities until it dawned on me that Lady Joanna must have divulged the truth to him, unraveling the clandestine activities of Jaime and Cersei.

Upon Tywin's return, he made it clear that any dreams I had were to be shared with him first, and under no circumstances should they be disclosed to anyone, not even Mother.

I nodded solemnly, feeling the weight of his words, before he drew me into a tight embrace.

"Thank you for saving my wife, Daemon," he had expressed, his voice carrying a hint of emotion that momentarily caught me off guard.

I was jolted from my thoughts by Daeron tugging at my hand.

"Daemon, let's go explore!" he exclaimed eagerly.

"Very well, little brother," I acquiesced, scooping him up in my arms.

"No, I'm not little!" he protested, his indignation only adding to my amusement.

As Ser Barristan Selmy appeared in the doorway, I seized the opportunity to tease him.

"Barry, could you enlighten me? Was I as energetic as my younger brother here?" I inquired with a playful grin.

"You were twice the trouble, my prince," Barristan replied with a chuckle, his eyes twinkling with fond reminiscence.

"Barry, you wound me," I feigned offense, though Daeron's laughter quickly dispelled any pretense.

Taking Daeron's hand, I ventured forth together to explore the castle, our laughter echoing through the corridors as we embarked on our adventure.