king's landing

Empty.

Daemon felt so empty, so lost and so defeated. He knew this would happen, he knew that Baelon would die one day, knew the year it would happen and yet every shield and wall he thought would protect him from this day crumbled from the force of reality, the weight of inevitability.

Could I have done something? 

What could I have done? Encourage him to live healthier? Get him checked by a maester regularly? What? 

Every solution met with a simple wall he knew he could not break; he didn't know how to treat the illness Baelon would die from. 

Now Baelon was dead

My father is dead.

When he thought of that word 'father' he pictured Baelon before him, a mix of both the memories of Daemon's youth and the memories of his own. The memories of the man who comforted him when he wept that on his first night, who worried over his recovery, retaught him how to fly a dragon, who saw him off when he flew to Runestone and whom dotted on Baelor, that had now enveloped the memories of the man in sweaters with a love of contraptions and trinkets.

Do I even remember his face? His name? Is he still alive?

The wind was less harsh on the ocean, the taste of salt in the air different from the chill and the rush of the water underneath the galley a new sound. He watched the dark horizon, waiting to see the lights Red Keep and King's Landing enter into his vision.

Above him Caraxes glided in the air, the distance silhouette of his dragon against the bright full moon.

Daemon gripped the side of the ship and shut his eyes, trying to take in the calmness of the moment and clear his thoughts. Footsteps echoed against the galley floor and a pair of arms wrapped around him from behind as he was pulled into a gentle embrace.

"Rhea." He murmured, familiar with her touch.

"Couldn't sleep?" she asked, resting her head against his back.

"No."

Rhea turned him around, kissed him before resting her head on his chest "Come back to bed and try, the capital will be there to see you in the morning, I promise."

"Yes, you are right." Daemon followed, Rhea back into their cabin; Baelor rested peacefully in his crib in the corner of their room, neither liked to be separated from their son for too long. He rested his head on his pillow as Rhea held him close, as if to stop him from leaving her side again, he shut his eyes and did not want to sleep.

Whose face will I see when I dream of my father?

Mercifully he awoke from a dreamless sleep, the swaying of the galley gone and the rushing winds and water replaced by the sound of voices and footsteps. Rhea rubbed his chest, coxing him from his slumber "We have arrived." She said, already dressed in his dark dress appropriate for mourning. "The servants have fixed a bath and clothes for you." She took his hand, rubbing her thumb in his palm. "Baelor and I will be on the deck waiting." She kissed him again and rested her head on his "Take your time." She asked before leaving their room.

Daemon sat up on the bed and placed his hand on his chest "Are you still there?" he asked of the true Daemon. He felt a flicker in his heart, weak but a confirmation. Daemon sighed deeply before quickly bathing himself and getting changed into his black doublet and pants, tying his hair back into a ponytail.

As Daemon walked out into the cabin he was greeted to the sight of the walls of King's Landing before him at the harbour, the Red Keep standing above it against a grey morning sky. Rhea and Baelor stood on the deck waiting for him, he approached them and placed his hand on the small of Rhea's back as they climbed down the steps of the galley to the docks.

On the docks they were greeted to men dressed in the livery of House Targeryen, a member of the Kingsguard at the head of the group of guards.

"My Prince." Ser Robin had bowed his head as he faced them "Lady Rhea and Lord Baelor."

"Ser Robin." He said walking to him and taking his hand "You are welcome sight."

"Thank you, my Prince, it is good to see you again after so long." Robin said "I mourn the loss of your father and Baelor's grandsire." He said "He was a great man and would have been a great king."

"He was an even better father." Daemon replied "I thank you, ser Robin, for your kind words."

"A carriage to the Red Keep awaits you and your family, His Grace, Prince Viserys and the small council await you." Robin escorted them to a small wheelhouse, painted in black and red, the heads of dragons carved into the corners of the carriage.

Daemon watched as they passed through the streets of the capital, guards on horseback riding both as their side, behind them and in front.

"Gods, does it always smell awful?" Rhea said, holding his her nose as she held Baelor.

Daemon nodded his head "Sadly yes." 

When the carriage arrived at the entrance to the Red Keep Daemon spotted more guards holding the banner of the dragon and a youngish looking man dressed in a similarly dark clothes stood among at the front of them. Daemon stepped out of the carriage, helping Rhea down from the steps as the man at the head of the guards approached him.

"Prince Daemon, Lady Rhea." He spoke, he looked to be maybe a few years older than Daemon; few inches shorter than Daemon, short dark brunette hair with a well-kept beard, bowed his head. "I believe this is the first time we have met." He spoke, a strange familiarity to the man. "Allow me to introduce myself, I am Lord Otto Hightower, I serve his Grace as Hand of the King."

Daemon bit the inside of his cheek and held his breath, holding back the sudden bout of pain in his chest, the explosion of anger. They both knew who he is, and one of them despised the him

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Otto." Daemon grasped at the man's open hand, hiding the painful discomfort.

"Prince Viserys and his family are currently waiting in their apartments." Otto said "Your father's body is currently lying in state for the time being before he will be brought to the dragonpit."

"And my grandfather?"

"His Grace is resting in his personal chambers at the moment, this has been a difficult time for him." Otto explained. "Allow me to escort you." Daemon took Rhea's hand as the two followed him into the keep, the kingsguard and guards following them inside.

The Red keep had not changed in the time he was away; the same banners stayed around, the same carpet on the ground and the same feeling all around of tension. Yet the faces were different; some new faces with old ones gone, it felt so different now.

When the reached the door of Baelon's apartment another member of the Kingsguard stood by, nodding his head before opening the door. "Prince Daemon and Lady Rhea, my Prince." The knight announced to those inside. As Daemon stepped inside he saw Viserys sitting in a chair alone as Aemma sat on a couch with little Rhaenyra standing in front of her.

Viserys raised his head to look at Daemon, his eyes red and his cheeks puffy. "Brother." He muttered loudly. He almost jumped up from his chair, walking to him quickly before placing him in a tight embrace, one which Daemon reciprocated.

"Viserys…" Daemon muttered "I am sorry, I should have been there…"

"We did not know, it was all too sudden." Viserys said.

I did know… I just didn't know how much time I had, I thought I had more time…

If I wasn't at the Eyrie then I might have had enough time to say goodbye…

Viserys pulled back from the hug and turned to Rhea, "Lady Rhea, good-sister." Rhea handed Baelor to a maid as she was pulled into an quick embrace by Viserys who pulled back and held her hands "You look well."

"I am, Prince Viserys." Rhea replied "I mourn for the loss of you and Daemon's father."

"It is all our loss." Viserys said "His Grace has lost a son, my brother and I have lost a father and Rhaenyra and Baelor have lost their grandsire."

"Truly a dark day."

"Come, sit and wait with us." Viserys said, his hand pointing to the empty seats. The two sat down as Rhea took Baelor back into her arms.

"Young Baelor looks well, Lady Rhea." Aemma spoke as Rhaenyra patted at her knees.

"He is, both my husband and I are very proud." Rhea sat next to her, Rhaenyra padded her way to her trying to get a better look at her cousin.

"Ba, Ba." The Princess tried to speak, Aemma lifted her from the ground.

"That is your cousin, Rhae, do you remember him?" Aemma playful asked the princess who reached out to Baelor, sitting on his mother's lap and observing those around him.

"When did it happen?" Daemon asked Viserys, sitting by the fireplace, both staring into the flames.

"It was maybe two weeks after we had received word about what had been happening in the Eyrie." Viserys said "He was meant to go hunting yet called the council to deliberate, started complaining about a pain not long after but still ordered the small council to approve it."

"Were you with him?" Daemon asked.

Viserys was silent for a moment "We were, both grandfather and I were with him."

"Good." Daemon muttered. "Where is Rhaenys, should she be here with her children." 

Viserys sighed "We have not heard back from either her or Corlys since ravens were sent out for those to attend his funeral pyre."

Daemon clenched the arm rests on his chair as he took in a deep breath in, there was a sweet aroma in the air making him feel queasy as a simmer flame burned in his chest.

It is likely Corlys is now organising his forces… already in correspondence with other lords to push Laenor's claim.

Daemon remembered the Grand council, trying to remember how much support Laenor had gotten, instead remembering that whatever support he had was small in comparison to Viserys.

Yet the knowledge that he may have two kingdoms on his side was a terrifying prospect indeed.

Add to that… Rhaenys has a dragon and so does Laenor… it would only be myself on Viserys side who has a dragon…

He grabbed at his face, his fingers and thumb pressing his cheeks.

"Prince Viserys, Prince Daemon." A servant called out "His Grace is ready and awaits you in the grand hall. The heavy silence fell upon them as they stared at the servant and then looked among themselves.

"We thank you, we shall attend his Grace immediately." Daemon spoke.

"Let us go." Viserys said, standing from his seat, taking Aemma's hand as she carried Rhaenyra.

Both Daemon and Rhea looked at each other, following Viserys and Aemma's lead as they made their way to the Grand hall, escorted by the kingsguard.

When they arrived at the grand hall; the first thing they saw was the monstrous throne of swords; when Daemon had first laid his eyes upon it, he stared in both wonder and fear, the throne before him was large and ugly, imposing and breath-taking. He could feel the want and desire from Daemon to climb it's steps and anger that he stood before it.

Now both of them felt nothing, their eyes focused on the body of Baelon, laid on a marble table and dressed in fine clothes of black and red with a sword within his hands resting on his body. Had he not been holding Rhea's hand, Daemon felt he would have collapsed.

Around Baelon those in court looked upon his body, either with their heads down or weeping. Among them he recognised members of the small council looking on as both of Baelon's sons approached his body.

Jaehaerys standing at the head of the body and at the steps of the Iron throne; he looked far worse than when Daemon last saw him. His unkept beard must have grown longer, dark circles were seen around his eyes despite what make-up the servants tried to use, the clothes he wore looked to weight him down and the cane he leaned on shook with his hand.

I hated you…

Now Daemon could only feel pity for the old king.

As he looked upon Baelon's body, Daemon found that he no longer had any more tears left to shed even as Viserys tried to hide his own. He shut his eyes and thought back to that day when they both rode Vhagar over the city, how a part of him wish to relive them moment once more.

Relive some many moments just one more time.

As Daemon opened his eyes, he looked again at the old king who stared into space.

"Silent sisters, please prepare the Prince's body." Otto commanded, behind him stood three young boys and a young girl of maybe ten.

Alicent…

The silent sisters then began to wrap his body in long cloth until he looked like mummy, his body placed on a stretcher as it was carried out by members of the Kingsguard out of the throne room, with those in attendance walking behind him.

His body was placed in a carriage with a carriage prepared for Jaehaerys himself, one prepared for Baelon's sons and their family and one for those members of the small council. As they slowly rode through the street, he could see the crowds of onlookers watching them; many wept into their clothes or cloths in their hands and other stared blankly at the scene before them.

When the arrived at the Dragonpit they were greeted to the mass ranks of the dragonkeepers, dressed in their scales armour, they stood at attention as Jaehaerys walked slowly passed them, Baelon's body carried behind him, the former heir's sons and family behind him and everyone else behind them.

As Daemon stepped into the dragonpit once more he could feel a wave of anguish wash over him; the memories the place had brought rushing to him, this feeling only compounded by that same pain felt by the old Daemon.

The urge to run from the pit gripped him after so long; yet not out of fear, he did not want the memory of this place, which cemented his love for the Baelon, being associated as the place he was laid to rest.

Rhea squeezed his hand reassuringly.

Baelon's body was placed in the centre of the pit, onto a neatly placed stack of wooden logs, the mighty dragon Vermithor at one end of the hallway, facing away from the guests, as they took their seats and stared at him.

Daemon looked at his son, whose eyes were focused solely on the dragon that rested its head and awaited it's rider as he sat next to it. Daemon eyes drifted to those attending and noticed the empty seats at the front.

A septon stood before them all; it was all too familiar to Gael's own funeral except the occasion was not a private affair between only her immediately family. He repeated the words and rite related to the Seven as those in attendance repeated the same phrases and scripture.

In the end, it was Jaehaerys who stood before the pyre, not Alysanne, this time it was he who looked upon his dragon and commanded it.

"Dracarys!" he commanded, everyone could hear the strain in his voice. His dragon thudded forward, craning it's neck upwards and pouring a torrent of fire onto the pyre. The smoke from the pyre rose to the open ceiling and Vermithor was escorted back into it's own chambers by the dragonkeepers.

The rest of the night from there had happened within a blur, walking and acting completely in a trance that neither he nor the real Daemon could wake from; he remembered the carriage ride back to the Red Keep and then a feast celebrating the life of Baelon in the Grand Hall where they had laid his body in state, he could not remember the food as not a crumble or sip of wine passed to his lips.

His thoughts were consumed by his father and the realisation that the more he thought of Baelon, the less he could recall of the man in the sweater. A hand gripped his shoulder; waking him from his trance, he looked up to see Robin standing over him "Prince Daemon, you and Prince Viserys are needed in the Small council chamber."

Why?

Daemon nodded his head, he turned to Rhea whispering in her ear that he had to leave her and Baelor for a bit. She nodded her head and kissed him before Robin escorted him from the feast and to the Small council chamber.

Seated at the marble table were the members of the council, Viserys and Jaehaerys at the head of the table. "Your Grace." Daemon, bowing his head.

"Be seated, Daemon." Jaehaerys ordered, Viserys pulled back a chair for him which Daemon quickly sat in. "Lord Otto…"

Otto unravel a piece of parchment in his hand "Just an hour ago, Maester Runciter received a raven from High Tide; in it Lord Corlys reiterate the rights of his son, Laenor Velaryon as the new heir to the Iron throne after the passing of Prince Baelon."

There were mummerings around the table.

It is starting... one of the focal points to the Dance...

"He goes on the further say that he has the backing of several prominent houses within the realm with Houses Baratheon, Stark, Manderly, Blackwood and even Celtigar among Laenor's supporters."

"This is an outrage." One lord spoke "He disturbs the King's peace, during the funeral of the crown prince!" Daemon did not recognise the man, in either book or memory.

"This is grounds for treason, to send thinly veiled threats to His Grace." A lord spoke, Daemon did not recognise him either.

"I can not believe that cousin Rhaenys would allow this, at such a time like this." Viserys spoke, he could hear the rage and disappointment in his voice.

"There is the question of succession." Maester Runciter spoke "With the untimely death of Prince Baelon, the realm is without a clear heir to the throne."

"What is this nonsense, Prince Viserys is Baelon's oldest son, by rights the throne should go to him when his Grace passes." Daemon looked to the king as the lord spoke, he sat silently watching them all.

"But Baelon is the King's second son, while the king may have chosen him as his successor, both Princes Viserys and Daemon as the sons of a second son." Runciter explained "Even within Andal law, succession passes through the line of the first son."

"Do you advocate that Laenor be named heir to the throne?" the same lord questioned the Maester.

"I am merely explaining, my lord." Runciter stated. "But this is an insult to the Crown, we must act at once."

Daemon had to act, and act carefully; what would avert this crisis? Prevent it from spilling into a full-blown conflict? 

A Great Council? No, that only happened because we were so close to war, because Corlys and Daemon butted heads over succession. 

A rising fury tickled his heart at the memory, a desire to press forward. One that Daemon was quick to temper with caution. 

One wrong move... and I risk starting the war earlier than expected.

A name came to his mind. 

"What of the involvement of our cousin, the Princess Rhaenys?" Daemon asked "As Maester Runciter said, succession runs through the first line, that would make her a claimant no?" 

His question was met with some laughs around the table. 

"Forgive me, my Prince, but I doubt the Princess Rhaenys will put herself forward as a claimant to the throne." Otto said "She herself lacks the support of other lords, it is her son that that precedence." 

"I am merely saying, with what I have done in the Vale... there may be those who would argue for her." feeling them out like a focus group, gaging how much support she would have.

"What was done in the Vale will stay in the Vale, the Iron throne knows different laws and precedence; a woman Queen, let alone heir, not being one of them." a Runciter said. 

"Mayhaps you have spent too much time in the Vale with your lady-wife and Lady Arryn, not everyone in the realm believes a woman is fit to govern." another spoke, almost jeering. Daemon clenched his fist; he, himself, wanted to punch that lord in the face. 

And I thought Gunthor was bad... no one will even contemplate the idea of Rhaenys being Queen, they only think of Laenor, rather a boy king than a woman sovereign... Rhaenyra was doomed to fail. 

He looked at the letter once more, remembering what support Laenor garnered during the Great Council from his memories.

It was Laenor who they pushed for, never Rhaenys. 

"My brother does speak true, Rhaenys was always a stubborn and proud woman, irked by our grandfather passing over her." Viserys spoke. 

"It matters not, Laenor doesn't even have the support of one-fourth of the realm, Rhaenys would have even less." one of the councillors said. 

"While we talk and debate legality, Lord Corlys assembles his fleet on the coast of Driftmark and his allies may yet still call upon their banners." Otto explained "We must end this before he turns into an even greater problem."

"Gods be good, we may see war on our shores once more." Viserys spoke.

Maybe… maybe Laenor should become king?

And yet something else burned, the throes of jealousy gripped his heart; it seemed that the true Daemon still dreamed of that throne and did not want anyone taking it.

But when Daemon pictured in his mind the Iron throne, the ugly mountain of swords stood before him and sat upon it he could only see the five year old boy sat within its metal claws all alone and scared.

Within himself he felt fear and pity for Laenor; the poor child condemned to something of which he did not choose or could begin to understand.

He would just be a vessel for his parent's ambition… he would just be a pawn to them. 

Daemon clenched his fist, shut his eyes and closed them.

No; even if Laenor became the king these people would still argue, many lords will hang Viserys claim over Laenor's head... some overly ambitious lord will take either Laena or Rhaenyra, use their children against him.

He's just a child.

"Viserys is the King's heir." Daemon spoke, catching everyone attention "It is my brother who should be the crown prince." He looked at Viserys before then looking around the table "Viserys would have been the Prince of Dragonstone if our father had ascended the Iron throne, this should not change anything, we must maintain this."

In heart was dull pain and in his mind a single word. 

Hypocrite. 

"I agree with Prince Daemon." Otto Hightower spoke "Viserys would be the natural successor to the throne, Laenor; it would be madness to name a boy of seven name days heir when Viserys is a man of twenty and four, the realm would be best served with him." Daemon tempered the anger in his chest when Otto spoke.

If Rhaenys could be heir, it that was just possible… then I would support her… but I can't force that on Laenor…

"Should we call our banners? Assemble our own forces to show we will not be cowered?" one of the lords asked.

"No." Daemon spoke "We cannot risk bring the realm to war, I believe that Lord Corlys can be reasoned with." He thought back to his visit to High Tide; the man reeked of ambition but clearly wasn't stupid or entirely reckless. "A small delegation must head to Driftmark and convince Corlys the error of his ways." 

"I shall go." Otto said "As the Hand I can represent his Grace in the negotiations."

Daemon stood up from his seat "I shall go too." to the shock of those around him "We cannot allow my brother into the hands of the Sea Snake, I shall go in his stead." 

In his mind was one goal; prevent a war, prevent the Dance. His eyes darted between every man in the room and his thoughts of those outside of it.

Viserys, Rhaenys, Otto, Corlys, the Small Council, the Velaryons, Hightowers and Targaryens; everyone, lord or not, wants something, they would all contemplate burning it all down to get their way. 

The only way to prevent the Dance is to stop the divide, unite every major player... make a status-quo which all would seek to preserve. 

But how?