Daemon

It must have been a another week or so before he was allowed to get out of bed and even begin to walk around the castle; in that time he kept writing more and more till he had a stack of journals by his bedside. When he was not doing that he was asleep, trying to walk around his room or even doing some light exercises in order to not go mad. And if he wasn't doing that then he was reading Alysanne letter again.

The day Maester Allar told him he could now walk around the castle freely he almost cheered, that was quickly shut down when Daemon was informed he was to meet with Jaehaerys Targaryen, Daemon's grandfather. 

The King...

The man who he had read about in the book which whom a fictional maester lavished praise over his reign as king yet also exposed his neglect for his many children and grandchildren; a great patriarch to all but a terrible father. 

Alysanne apologised for her mistakes, what will you say? 

With the memories of Daemon, he remembered an old man who had been an almost magnanimous figure over him with the most prominent memory being the day he was knighted and then granted the sword Dark Sister.

Perhaps I could convince him to name Rhaenys or Laenor as his heir.

The thought was instantly greeted with a burning pain in his heart.

Okay it was a joke! Jesus!

The servants arrived early that morning; brought him his clothes, leaving them on the bed for him and running a hot bath in a metal tub that had sat in the corner of his room.

They attempted to wash him but he quickly and firmly insisted on them to wait outside instead, which they mercifully did. Though it didn't completely get rid of them, they were still standing by the door outside just in case he needed anything.

Daemon slowly sat into the hot bath, his skin tingling to the sensation of the water against him. As he submerged himself into the water he rested his head against the metal rim of the tub. For but a second he could almost imagine he was at home in his own bathtub enjoying a hot bubble bath.

After he had scrubbed his body using a sponge and dried himself did he turn to the clothes left for him. They had brought him a pair of trousers and a black tunic with red patterns decorating the arms and collar.

Daemon quickly got himself dressed and sat down by the table with a mirror.

He stared at himself for a while, he had seen himself using the small mirror for a while now yet even when he got up from his bed in what brief moments he was allowed he could not bring himself to look at the larger mirror; he had thought he'd had gotten used to seeing a different face in the mirror now. Yet as he sat down, staring at someone else's face, the face of a fictional character, this still was a part of him that rejected what his eyes saw before him.

He never wanted to take a closer look at himself, all of himself. And now whatever vestige of hope that held out that this was an extremely vivid coma dream was crushed.

He turned his face to the side and then the other side, touching his cheeks and then his lips and then his temples and then ran his hand through the length of his hair; trying to process what he was seeing with his violet eyes.

My eyes were brown once, my hair was black and short and curly once, I had a thicker beard and some freckles.

I had my own face…

A feeling of loss washed over him and he didn't know if that was the old Daemon watching through his eyes as someone else examines his face or his own emotions over the loss of who he was.

Will I one day forget what my own face looked like?

"You can enter now." Daemon spoke, two servants quickly entering into the room; One carried a bowl of hot water and the other carried a nicely pattern cloth and a small knife. He sat there almost ramrod stiff as the servants shaved off his stumble from his chin and neck and cut his hair, cleaning it thoroughly for him to look presentable.

"You have my thanks and my leave." He told the servants, once more they bowed there heads as they left him. "If I may." He said before they stepped out of the door "Could I ask for a ball of string or thin rope for my hair?" 

"Of course, my prince." One of them said.

It was only a couple of moments later that the servant arrived carrying a ball of string, he took a piece of string, gathered his long hair in his hands and tied it together into a ponytail which reached just past his neck.

As he stood up and walked towards the door he took one last deep breath, grabbing the knob and twisting it, pulling it open. 

Daemon, for the first time, stepped out of his room and was greet by the a member of the kingsguard, or at least that is what he assumed; the man's white amour and white cloak giving it away, a sword on his hip and another in his hand. "His Grace, your grandfather, awaits you in the chamber of the Small Council, my Prince." The knight said, bowing his head.

"Thank you, ser." Daemon replied.

"But first." He offered the sword, secured tightly in a black scarab, to Daemon, holding it sideways with both hands. "Your sword, My Prince."

Daemon looked at the blade, almost perplexed as to why he was given this until his eyes fell upon the hilt of the blade.

Darksister…

A red ruby sat in the centre of a crossguard shaped as the licks of golden flames, its grip was covered in a black leather with a pommel shaped as a fireball.

He reached out to the Valyrian sword and gripped at the scarab tightly, the sword was shockingly light; it was as if he was lifting a mere toy. With some muscle memory he managed to fasten it to his belt.

He followed the knight, all the while his eyes scanned the hallway and passing rooms and chambers of the Red Keep; the inside of the castle, seeing it with his own eyes, the memories of Daemon and what he had imagined when he had read the books did not compare to what he saw. The grandness and opulence before him; Black banners trimmed with gold, Dragon gargoyles on the walls, tapestries decorated it's halls and chambers, the tiles that he walked on seemed polished to a gleam and large pillars and columns tied up the hallways and chambers together.

This place makes any castle look like crap.

Admittedly though, he had seen very few castles in his first life. 

Soon enough he came upon a set of double wooden doors, the entrance flanked by two more members of the Kingsguard, their hands on the pommel of their swords, standing guard of the chamber where their King sat.

He quickly turned to a servant and handed him the wineskin of water, not before taking a quick swig of it.

"My brothers." The kingsguard greeted the other two.

They both nodded their heads "Prince Daemon." One of them spoke "His Grace, your grandfather, and Prince Baelon awaits you inside." They both open the door, pushing it inwards and stepping to the side. 

Before him was a long marble table, several chairs were laid out around on each side of the table as well as the head of it at the centre of the chamber. A set of doors lined the wall leading to a balcony which allowed light to be poured into the room. White pillars decorated the walls and servants stood at attention, waiting to be called upon by the King.

The King, Jaehaerys 'the Conciliator,' sat at the end of the table with Baelon sitting on the left side of the table and the commander of the Kingsguard, Ryman Redwyne on the right side.

Age and rulership clearly had not been kind to the conciliator; he was wearing a large emerald robe trimmed with gold; it looked far too large on his frame, like an old man whom dresses in more clothes to keep warm. Both his hair and his beard had grown long and looked almost unkept. Wrinkles gripped his face and the bags under his eyes a constant reminder and testament to his determination to govern this herd of cats known as the seven kingdoms.

Daemon stepped into the chambers as the door behind him closed.

Remember to bow.

Daemon bowed his head, searching through the memories of his old self doing this when greeting Jaehaerys in the past.

"Your Grace." Daemon said.

"Daemon, my grandson, come." Jaehaerys spoke "Sit down next to your father." Daemon cautiously walked to the empty chair next to Baelon who greeted his son with a warm smile. "Tell me, how are you feeling?"

"I am well, your grace."

"That is good, it gladdens my heart to hear that you are well." Jaehaerys said "When word reached me of your accident we had all feared the worst but the Gods have decided to be merciful to us, far too many within House Targaryen have been taken far too soon. "

Baelon looked to the table, no doubt he was thinking of his siblings who either died in the cradle or in horrible accidents or events.

"You are walking around now, my Prince?" Ryman asked.

"Yes, I had taken to walking around the confines of my room first before walking around the Red Keep." Daemon replied "I, of course, hope to do more in the coming days."

"Would be good to see you in the training yard again." Ryman said "No doubt you are tired of waiting."

Where Daemon felt nervousness at the mention of that, he also felt excitement pooling within him.

Daemon was a gifted fighter, I would have to train if I wanted to keep up appearances.

He had the memories of Daemon training to be a swordsmen and a gifted one at that.

Lets hope this body has retained some of its muscle memory and I don't make a complete fool of myself, I found myself speaking with the same mannerisms as they have when I first woke up.

"Some practice and sparring would do good for me." Daemon said. Ryman nodded his head.

"I hear that you have also taken to writing while you were recovering." Jaehaerys said "Your father tells me that you have already made a small stack of journals at your bedside table."

"Yes your Grace, I needed to keep my mind occupied while I was lying in bed, I found that writing was a way of doing so."

"Good, remember that the mind is a weapon itself, Daemon." Jaehaerys advised "It must be used and sharpened else it becomes dull." His grandfather then turned to face him, looking at Daemon eye to eye. At that moment Daemon almost felt like a child; the figure of Jaehaerys looming over him as it was in Daemon's memories yet as an old a frail man he still managed to give off that same feeling, authority without a word spoken. "I must ask Daemon, once you've recovered from your injuries, what do you intend to do?"

Ah…

"Your Grace?"

"What are your plans, dear grandson, will you intend to stay at the Red Keep for the foreseeable future, do you plan to leave and go back to your Lady wife at Runestone or have you something else in mind?"

Jaehaerys certainly didn't trust Daemon…

"I plan to go back to Runestone, your Grace." Daemon spoke "I- I realise that my treatment of Lady Rhea Royce was unbecoming of myself; it was a match arranged by my Grandmother the Queen with my and what children I may have futures in mind, I should have been far more respectful to both Lady Rhea and our family."

Baelon blinked a few times as those words which came out of Daemon, looking almost surprised by what had been said. Ryman Redwyne too looked perplexed; it seems they all had something else in mind except that.

Jaehaerys however still looked at Daemon, like a surgeon putting someone under the knife, or Maester in this world. "Do you speak true?" his grandfather questioned.

"Yes, your Grace." Daemon replied "When I have recovered from my injuries I will make my journey to Runestone and take my place there with my wife."

"Hmmm." Jaehaerys then reached out his hand to Ryman who handed him a piece of parchment "That pleases me to hear, Daemon." The old king spoke "I know you had not desired the match between you and her but to hear you take responsibility and perform your duties fills me with confidence." he began to write something on the parchment, Daemon resisted the urge to look at it "Tell me, and speak true, does it still bother you that your children will take the name Royce upon their birth."

Daemon felt a prickly feeling within his chest, a flickering flame that was beginning to grow. He breathed in quickly, trying to extinguish the fire; attempting to remain calm and collected.

Does it bother me? No not at all. The other guy? Of yeah, it bothers him alright.

"No your Grace, those were the terms of my marriage as agreed by the Queen with Lord Royce." Daemon replied.

Daemon then searched his memories and stopped at one point; an argument, a very heated argument between himself against his father and Grandmother as they discussed over his the betrothal with Rhea Royce. They told him he's to marry her and he raged against them, they told him that their children would inherit the Royce name and he raged further. They told him his children couldn't be given dragon eggs…

"And what about your future children with her not receiving dragon eggs?" Jaehaerys asked.

That flickering flame in his chest was now an inferno, blazing hot, it was uncomfortable to feel yet he managed to resist it. 

"No your Grace."

Got to be more clever about this…

"While it does disappoint me that they will not receive dragon eggs in their cradle, I understand the reasons why." Daemon spoke "To have another house acquire dragons and become dragon riders would threaten the stability of the realm."

Both Baelon and Ryman nodded their heads to that answer, Jaehaerys eyes had soften.

"Indeed." He spoke "Your cousin Rhaenys has already upset me over this matter, giving a dragon egg to her son and Corlys' heir Laenor Velaryon." As he spoke he continued to write on the parchment "Family they may be but to have more than one house have dragons will no doubt lead to greater conflict in future."

Daemon grimaced.

It still happened anyways and it was between dragon riders of this family.

He felt an urge to tell him that, yet held off, else it be interpreted as something else.

They believe Daemon to be impulsive and ambition, best not make them assume anything of me

"Yes, your Grace, I am aware."

"Good, good." Jaehaerys said, he finished writing and then handed Daemon the parchment "This is a letter I will write to Lord Yobert as he serves as Regent to inform him of your arrival."

Daemon blinked.

What.

"So tell me, how long do you intend to be staying in the Red Keep before you make your return to Runestone?" Jaehaerys asked.

Fuck, shit, motherfucker

Suddenly all that anger and hate dissipated quickly and gave way to elation and happiness, a sort of joy someone would have of watching another get hit by a ball on accident. Daemon was caught off guard and now felt small and anxious. 

"I did not have a specific time or date that I was planning on setting off, your Grace." Daemon replied.

Not entirely true… I had planned to leave soon in order to make sure Gael doesn't kill herself.

"I will need to inform Lord Yobert of your arrival, it would be inconsiderate of us for you to travel back to the Vale without prior notice." The King said. "It would reflect poorly on our family, remember you are a Prince after all, certain things are expected of you as a Prince… and as the wielder of Dark Sister."

This guy…

There was a pricky feeling in his chest now, mixed in with the happiness and elation that had been flowing.

It became clear to Daemon what the King had in mind; he didn't believe that he was planning on going back to the Vale and back to Rhea, but wants to put Daemon in a corner which he can't back out, else he threaten his position and honours.

He believes I have provided enough rope for him to potentially hang me if I do not keep to what I said.

Daemon tried to think of a timeframe of which he could say; keeping in mind that he also needed time to recover, practice his martial skills, adjust to his new life and then, somehow, tame and ride his dragon.

"Three turns of the moon." Baelon said before Daemon could speak "I think thee turns of the moon would be a good amount of time for him to remain in King's Landing before he goes off to Runestone." Baelon turned to me "Wouldn't you agree, son?"

Three months… can I do all that in three months?

"Yes, I think three turns would be sufficient." Daemon answered, trying not to blurt out his answer. He slipped the parchment back to Jaehaerys who took it and finished writing before handing it back to Ryman.

"I suggest you write one to your lady wife at Runestone too, inform her so that she may expect your arrival within a few days after that period of time."

"I will do so at once, your Grace." Daemon replied.

"Excellent." Jaehaerys said "I'm glad we are in agreement, I expect your raven to have been sent today, no later, we must show the realm that House Targaryen is united."

"Yes, your Grace."

"That will be all for today, there are matters of state I must attend to." The King said. "You are dismissed."

Daemon stood up from his chair and bowed his head, Baelon softly grasped Daemon's hand giving it a tender squeeze, the two looked at each other a Baelon nodded his head before letting go.

Daemon walked to the doors, the kingsguard on the other side opening it for him and letting him out before closing the door again.

"My Prince, let me escort you." One of the kingsguard said.

"Thank you, ser." The knight led Daemon once more to his room, bowing his head before leaving Daemon alone once more.

He looked around the halls, checking it was empty before he closed the door. He kicked the stool near his desk "Fuck!" he exclaimed. "Fucking shit!" he sat on his bed "You gotta be fucking kidding me, that fucking senile dickhead, he's completely fucked me over!" He paused for a second before then started to laugh.

This is first time I spoke and actually sounded like myself!

Daemon pinched the bridge of his nose and he sat on his bed, a feeling of frustration gripping him. All the while the feeling of elation and joy had not left but instead remained.

You're enjoying this aren't you?

"Fuck what I'm I gonna do?" he muttered to himself, he shook his head and stared at the wall before then turning his head to the small pile of journals he'd written. He picked up the stool and set it back down next to his desk. He picked up one; a half completed journal, he opened it and tore out some of the pages and set them on the desk.

He looked over to see the side, Alysanne's letter sat there, the one he had read over and over again. He picked up the letter, he didn't need to read it; he had almost memorised it by heart.

I should write back to her and Gael… I should tell her that I don't hate them. But first…

He took a quill and pot of ink and became to write; a whole routine from morning to night. Training, research, writing and whatever other duties were needed of the Prince.

Getting the crap kicked out of me is going to be fun now

Then there was the thing he feared the most.

His dragon.

Even his hands began to shake at the mere thought of it. He had such limited time, and within that time he needed to master riding a dragon. An giant mythical monster that could breathe fire and soar the skies.

I'm so screwed.

He placed his hands on his head as he tried to think positively, he searched through the memories of Daemon Targaryen; he remembered that Daemon had gone to Dragonstone, still a boy in aged fifteen, with help from a merchant ship, he hiked up the Dragonmont and discovered Caraxes in a cave, with great trepidation and determination he claimed the dragon, his uncle's dragon.

How did you do it? How could you do that? A fifteen year old?

He suddenly felt his chest swell with proud at the memory, at the thought of being able to claim a dragon at such a young age… at possibly blindsiding the person in control of his body and making him feeling insignificant.

Are you mocking me?

That feeling of joy and elation only grew, fuelled by pride and ambition. If the old Daemon had control over his body he would no doubt be laughing at himself, at him; comparing himself to the one now in control's childhood and teenage years.

Daemon felt the joy but no inclination to laugh, instead he only felt some frustration of his own and anger to match it.

Let's see if you find this funny.

He picked up an empty parchment, his quill and pot of ink.

'To my dearest Rhea'

The elation and joy that had once bubbled within him, quickly died on those four words.

'No doubt you have received word of my accident and of my long sleep, I write to you now to inform you that I have woken from my sleep and am now recovering from my injury. It is perhaps by the grace and mercy of the Gods that I am alive.'

'I shall speak true, I do not doubt that you feel no happiness in hearing from me'

He remembered the day of their wedding; how miserable he felt at their feast, how he refused to speak to anyone and instead sulked and made everyone know about it to the detriment of his grandmother in attendance.

He remembered raising a cup to her, making sure to gather the attention of all in attendance "To Rhea Royce! To My Bronze Bitch!"

You fucking arsehole…

Daemon put ink to parchment again.

'I have no doubt in my heart that perhaps you wished for me to perish that day, I have brought nothing but shame and humiliation to you and your family spiting the kindness shown to me'

Daemon couldn't help but smile at the next words he would write knowing that it would make the person within him squirm.

'Let this letter be my first step towards redeeming myself in your eyes, know that I am sorry for hurting you and that I was but a prideful fool who did not appreciate the good that was before me and know that I will not stop making amends for what I have done for the rest of our lives.'

The familiar fury was soon back.

Did that sting? Good, this is gonna hurt.

'I shall return back to Runestone and take my place by your side, as I should have done the day after we married, I shall do what honour commands me and what my duties command of me, serving your Lord father and you for the good of House Royce whom I have the honour of being married into and whom our children will bear its name and inherit it's titles'

The Fury became a roaring rage, an inferno against his words which only fuelled his pyre to go on.

'I know that words could never express my regret or how sorry I am for hurting you but I promise you on my life and the honour of House Targaryen that I will return to you soon, I shall stay in the capital to complete my recovery and before I make the journey to the Vale.'

Keep crying, you silver haired brat.

No doubt if the old Daemon could choke himself he would have done so without hesitation, but he was not the one in control.

'I have spoken with his Grace, my grandfather, and we had agreed that I shall remain for three turns of the moons in King's Landing and he shall sent a raven to your father in the Eyrie to inform him of my arrival, I shall count the days from then till I am able to see you again.'

'I shall do all I can to show you that I am a changed man who wants to give my love and devotion to you and you alone.'

Daemon glanced at himself in the mirror and caught the grin on his face before winking, sending a message to the Daemon trapped within him as anger became infused with disgust.

'From your fool of a husband,'

'Daemon Targaryen.'