Eyrie,

Daemon pulled on the straps of his bags, making sure they wouldn't fall off of Caraxes when he took flight. It was a late morning, he figured that he would be able to reach the Eyrie before the end of the afternoon to meet with his good-father Yorbert.

I hope this meeting goes better than the last one.

The last time they had met was just a month after the birth of Baelor; despite Daemon bests efforts to build a bridge with Lord Royce, it was clear he was still bitter about the whole affair of insulting his daughter at their wedding, no matter how many times Daemon had apologised while Rhea, Perra and other courtiers explained to him how he had changed from then to now.

If he is this stubborn then Gunthor has little hope of breaking him.

Daemon also reasoned that by arriving later in the afternoon it would mean more eyes will see his arrival to the Eyrie, a demonstrative show of force and support for the Protector of the Vale and Regent for Jeyne that she had the support of the Iron Throne, even if it was a bluff.

Yet deep down he knew the reason for his late start; as he looked on, the towers and dome of Runestone in the distance there was a ache in his heart that wasn't caused by the anger of the original Daemon, he simply did not want to leave.

When he awoke in this story his reason for being, his reason to live and continue on despite losing everything was to survive this world, carve out some kind of life for himself; that meant preventing the coming conflict, preventing the deaths of people who he had grown to like and cherish even if it wasn't the same feeling as he had for the family in his first life and living as peaceful a life he could have.

Yet when Baelor was born, when he held his son in his arms for the first time, it felt as though his entire purpose had changed, his entire reason to work and strive changed.

I can not let him fight and die over who gets to sit that ugly metal chair.

The thought of him having to endure any kind of horrific event, let alone the Dance, was enough to make him shudder.

I can not let this get out of hand too…

While lost in his thoughts he rubbed the ring on his finger, the wedding bands he had made for them. When he had asked Gilwood to forge him the ring from the Valyrian steel chain link he received from the Citadel and asked him to engrave on it those words Daemon had launched probably one of his worse attacks of terror on him.

Poor Gilwood thought he had to get the maester! You really scared the shit out of him, Daemon. 

Yet even that amusing thought wasn't enough to push back the melancholy in his heart, it only ached further as he thought of Rhea and their son. 

Daemon climbed upon Caraxes' back "Ready to go?" the dragon hummed and Daemon took that as sign Caraxes agreed with him. "Sōvēs! Caraxes!" he ordered, the dragon stood on its hind legs as it flapped its wings "Naejot! North East!" the Dragon straighten out it's neck as it flew in that direction, Daemon turned his back and watched as Runestone grew smaller and smaller.

I'm coming back, I'm coming back.

Daemon pressed his hand on his chest "You've been really quiet lately?" he asked, trying to speak to the real Daemon "You finally gone?" a jolt of pain hit his chest, likely his equivalent to a kick. "Still there huh?" Lately he hadn't been experiencing the familiar chest pains or aches that  Daemon would inflict on him in the past whenever he had done something the real one had disapproved of.

Even when he would lavish Rhea with praise all he would get in a tickle of pain and a feeling of profound boredom or melancholy whenever he would attend meetings. The only times he would feel anything different or any sign of true life from him now was during training or sparring, where his anger and frustration seem to spur Daemon on against his opponent.

Or the pride that would swell in his chest seeing Baelor; when his son began learning to crawl, it felt as if he's own heart was about to burst with joy from the emotions from both, yet even that moment had the lingering moments of sadness from the true Daemon.

God… I hope I don't miss his first steps…

The journey had taken more than a couple of hours yet the view of the Eyrie may had made the trip worth itself; Runestone stood out as a citadel on a mountain, imposing and authoritative. But the Eyire was a palace; it sat upon snow tipped mountains, built with an almost polished white stone which both it and the snow gleamed under the sunlight. The castle was not a monument of power but graceful and beautiful to look upon yet the seven towers stood as a message to its strength; nothing less than a worthy home to any ancient noble family. A waterfall poured from a nearby mountain, complimenting the beauty of the area.

As Daemon circled around he spotted falcons flying around the mountains, flying against the blue sky and pristine white clouds.

"Wow…"

As he flew closer he could spot people, a crowd watching him, in the inner court of the castle.

That must be the welcome party.

"Paerī!" he ordered, the dragon began to slow it's flying "Ninkiot!" Caraxes flapped it's wings as it descended onto the ground. "Lykirī!" he said, rubbing at the dragon's neck as the crowd gawked and guards raised their spears at the dragon. Daemon climbed off of the dragon, among the group of onlookers he recognised Yorbert Royce, his father in law. "Lord Royce." He said, dipping his head courteously.

"Prince Daemon, good-son." Yorbert said, bowing his head to him. "I welcome you to the Eyrie." Yobert shared similarities in looks to his brother; full bread of dark chestnut hair, though his own hair was cut short. He was a giant of a man, standing noticeably taller than Daemon with a stocky built. On his face were wrinkle lines, a sign of his age and the dark brown eyes of his could mistakenly be seen as black at a glance.

As he had done when they met each other again, the look he gave Daemon was professional yet not less stern.

He moved to the side "And allow me to introduce to you, the Lady Jeyne Arryn." A young girl dressed in a bright blue dress shyly stepped forward, she reminded Daemon of Aemma with her honey coloured blonde hair but where Aemma had light indigo eyes from her Daella, Jeyne's were a watery blue.

"Prince Daemon." Jeyne said, curtseying before him. "Welcome to the Eyrie."

Very cute.

"Lady Jeyne, you have my thanks." He said to Jeyne bowing his head. "What do you think of Caraxes?" he asked the girl.

Jeyne stared at the dragon for a couple of seconds, utterly mesmerised by the creature before her, Caraxes turned it's head towards Jeyne and huffed air from its nostrils. "May I touch it?" she asked innocently, it was enough to make him laugh.

"Another time, my lady." Yorbert interjected "I believe it would be appropriate to take your place on in the High Hall, make sure the feast for the Prince's arrival is ready, yes?." Jeyne nodded her head "Lead the way, my lady." His hand pointing towards the door inside. Jeyne rushed to the front as the delegation followed her, Yobert sticking behind with Daemon "There is a large courtyard connected to the mountain, your dragon can stay there."

"Caraxes! Rȳbās!" Daemon ordered, he pointed towards the direction of the outer courtyard "Stay there and wait for me." The dragon hummed before flapping it's wings and taking flight leaving the two to catch up with the others.

"How was your journey here?" he asked, his hands behind his back.

"It was well, Lord Protector." He replied "The weather was kind and the sights of the Vale still as breath-taking as before."

"And how is Rhea and Perra?" he inquired "And my grandson?" the stern look never disappearing from his face.

"Rhea is well, her governing of Runestone is nothing short of stalwart, the lands prosper under her care. Perra is well too, she continues her studies and dotes on Baelor" He said "And Baelor, he grows stronger each day, the maester says he may walk soon."

"No doubt we both do not wish to miss such a monumental occasion." Speaking to Yobert was still as tense as ever. "I do thank you for offering your support to our lady Jeyne at this time of turmoil, I hope that we can rely on the support of House Targeryen in providing stability in these times."

"His Grace shall not falter, and even so you have my fully support." Daemon tried to assure him.

Yorbert looked at him, a blank expression on his face "I should hope so." He looked ahead "Come, let us show you to the High Hall." 

Two guards stood guard over the entrance to the main hall, as they stepped forward Daemon looked around the hall; the hall was thinner than both the Red keep and Runestone, and perhaps even less grand but did not lack for beauty. The walls of the hall were a blue marble with slim pillars holding up the roofs of the hall, arched windows on the walls and a long line of lamps hung from the ceiling with torches lit. The floors of the hall were marble polished to a shine and bright blue carpets leading to the elevated platform with a throne made of what looked to be a white coloured wood.

All around there was a prevailing feeling of coldness surrounding him, as he walked towards the throne his eyes drifted to two large wooden door, wedged between two white pillars and three bronze bars holding the door shut. Yet as he passed by it he could hear the unmistakable sound of heavy winds banging against the door.

Daemon held his breath, the air becoming colder as he walked by it, he pulled on his cloak.

Looked different in the show… this is worse…

As he reached the throne he saw the young lady Jeyne sat on which she looked far to small for, her feet kicking the as she waited for everyone to take their seats. Tables were arranged before the elevated platform before a woman next to her stopped Jeyne. "Everyone, please be seated." Jeyne said, as only a child could sound trying to be both loud and regal. Daemon took his seat, there were candles placed over the table next to bowls of fruit.

"As Lord Protector let me welcome my good-son to these halls." Yobert said, standing at his place on the table while those around him sat "The last Prince to visit the Eyrie was one whom the realm will sooner wish to forget, I hope that you my Prince will be one to remember and more fondly."

Daemon smiled as the others around him laughed politely.

Comparing me to Maegor… you really don't like me.

For the first time in a while he felt something inside him, the familiar burning sensation of indignation, of that of wounded pride and a desire to throw back the insults that he received.

Daemon… you're back?

"The walls of the Eyrie are high, much like the honour of all good men who sat upon it's throne, it is a standard which all lords of the Vale must uphold, and I am sure that the Prince shares the same sentiment with us."

I see where Rhea gets it from…

Daemon stood up from his seat and raised his glass "Thank you, Good-father."

Daemon… how would you like to get back at the father in law?

The anger and indignation soon turned into a form of elation, it seemed that the two had come upon a very rare agreement.

"I wish to assure those attending that while I may be the first Targeryen since my cruel great-granduncle to visit this lovely castle I am nothing like him." Daemon announced "Firstly I heard he was taller than myself and stronger but I believe am more handsome!" that had gotten some laughs from other attending "Secondly, Maegor rode Balerion, the black dread, legendary mount that conquered the Seven Kingdoms! I just ride Caraxes." He leaned forward towards Jeyne "Be sure to not tell Caraxes, my lady, he will be mightily upset with me!" speaking in a whispered tone audible to all which earned a smile and giggle from her. "And thirdly, I do not take multiple wives" he said seriously before a smile crept on his face "I promise you all that my lady wife Rhea keeps me more than honest." The laughs from those attending were more guttural this time, holding them back as to not offend the Lord Protector who watched on as stone faced as the mountain the Eyrie was built upon.

Daemon feed off that bravery and elation that the old one gave out; both enjoying trying to assert their own authority.

There's one thing you don't know, Yorbert, that Rhea didn't know too; You can wound Daemon's pride, but you can't wound mine.

"Lady Jeyne!" Daemon spoke, turning his head to her "I must say that your home is beautiful; I have seen and visited many keeps and castles in our Seven Kingdoms and there is none that can match yours, I will see to it that I shall remain yours." Daemon looked around the tables; some had raised their glasses to the proclamation and others stayed their hand, his good-father being one of them.

Interesting…

The rest of the dinner went off normally, as normally as these types of medieval feasts go as Daemon learned; he made idle chat with a knight who sat next to him, zoning in and out of the conversation as the proud man seemed to brag about his accomplishments and tourney victories and enquire about Darksister, asking a list of question relating to the sword. All the while, his good-father would glance at him every so often.

I would say I feel like I'm under the microscope, if it were called that in this world.

When the feast was finished and the plates were cleared, the guests retired for the night and lady Jeyne looked to have fallen asleep on her throne and carried by one of the servants. Lord Yobert come to Daemon "See me in my solar." He asked Daemon.

"Of course."

Daemon followed him through the halls of the Eyire, still admiring the designs and craftsmanship of the castle.

The place has an almost Roman motif to it, mum would have loved this and dad he-

He tried to think of his father from his first life yet, the image of Baelon seem to flood his mind first, he blinked a few times as he tried to remember the face of his real father.

He had… silver- no. Brown hair? Or was it grey then? Purple? No blue? No brown eyes! He- wore sweaters, he wore sweaters…

Two memories seem to clash in his head, creating a fog in his mind. 

He loved crafting things, he loved crafting things.

He repeated it in his head, a mantra to keep him grounded, but when he tried to hear his voice; he truly did not know if it was Baelon in his head or the one who raised him since birth.

Two guards stood by a door, dressed in the livery of House Arryn.

"Lord Protector, my Prince." They greeted them both, one of them opening the door to the private office.

Daemon looked around the room; it was smaller than Rhea's office in Runestone and yet he felt colder inside this one, the blue tinted walls seem to stretch the room out, making it look wider than it appeared. At the centre of the room was a large desk and above that was a ceiling of clear glass, the moonlight pouring down upon it.

Why does every space in a castle have to scream 'I'm so important!'

"Sit, good-son." Yorbert said as he took his place on the other side of the desk. Daemon sat down in the empty chair, the two then stared at each other for a couple seconds, Daemon waiting for him to say something, likely something he has been holding back since he saw him in the courtyard a few hours ago.

"Say it" Daemon spoke "I know you wish to tell me something but the timing has never been right; either a month ago or a few hours ago. So say it."

"I do not trust you." Yorbert said. "Those letters that my daughter has received before your return to good health tell us you wish for forgiveness, and my daughters tell me you have changed from the boy you were, Rhea pleaded to me as much." He said, his stern tone became more accusing as he went on "But how much can a man change in just two years? I have met plenty of mummers in my life; men never change their beliefs, they just hide them better for their plans or realise they can never achieve them and seek to survive."

"What is it you accuse me of exactly?" Daemon questioned. 

"What changed Daemon? What makes a man humiliate his new wife and her house and then two years later grovel back to her and them" he questioned him "You think a brick just hits a man's head and he wakes up a completely different person?"

Well… yes?

"You think lowering myself to your daughter, pleading for her forgiveness, trying to ingratiate myself into your house has been some kind of ploy?" Daemon threw back at him. 

"Aye, so which is it? Ambition or survival?"

Daemon was silent as he considered the question; in his mind the answer was simple, it was survival. He wanted to avoid the Dance, he didn't want to fight in a war for the throne and he sure as hell didn't want Baelor fighting one either.

But in his chest, there burned the desires of Daemon.

It was clear what he wanted, he wanted something far greater than what a second son and third in line to the throne could be afforded; the question only reigniting the damp fire within.

"Why does it matter?" Daemon asked. "I love Rhea, I would do anything for her and I would do anything for Baelor, why does it matter what I want?

"Because, 'My Prince,' if I am to ally myself with the likes of someone who would humiliate my family not so long ago then I need to know what you live for and what you want." Yorbert stood up from his seat, leaning towards Daemon, narrowing his eyes at him.

Daemon could feel the fury in his heart, the temptation by the other to stand up and stare him down, show him that he wasn't afraid of him and that this pitiful attempt to intimidate him was nothing.

Yet all he could do was smile.

"So that's where Rhea gets it from." Yorbert leaned back, perplexed by Daemon's comment. "You both narrow your eyes when looking at something you disapprove of." Yorbert sat back in his seat, shaking his head. "She takes after you my lord, quite a lot." Daemon crossed his leg over the other "Both, good-father."

"Pardon?"

"You wanted an answer, it is both." Daemon said "I am ambitious; you believe I helped make different contraptions purely for my leisure? No because I saw a gap that could be filled, a way to empower the holding Baelor will one day inherit and write my name in history even if it is not a king and believe me what I tell you, I have far greater plans than simple games or items." Daemon paused, he allowed the fire in his chest to be stoked, rising from its slumber as he feed off of Daemon's tenacity. "But I also want to survive, I want Baelor to survive, I want Rhea to survive and I want Perra to survive too; mistrust me if you must and if it allows you to sleep better then question your dislike for me, but never doubt that I do care for them as I have my own House and that I view them as my family."

As he uttered the final word, his felt vestiges of his own life, the memories of it, slowly chip away.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. They both turned their heads to it "Enter." Yorbert called out, the door opened and inside stepped a maester. "Lord Protector, my Prince." He said bowing his head to them.

"Maester Eustace." Yorbert greeted "The hour is late."

"Indeed it is, forgive my sudden intrusion, but we have received this raven just now." He handed Yorbert the parchment, Daemon glimpsed the seal of it for but a brief moment by spotted the symbol of Royce on it.

Yorbert broke the seal, unrolled the parchment and quickly read through its contents, he looked over to the maester and then to Daemon.

"Head to your quarters and get some rest, tomorrow we parlay with my brother."