Chapter 38 - Rewards And Retributions

277 AC

Daemon Pov

"The fifteen of you have been chosen for a monumental mission, one that will echo through the annals of history. You are the founding captains of the Golden Dragon Trading Company," I proclaimed, infusing my words with pride and purpose.

"You may wonder why I selected each of you," I began, locking eyes with every member of the assembled group.

"It is because you represent the pinnacle of loyalty and devotion to House Targaryen," I continued, emphasizing their esteemed status among our ranks.

"I have no doubt that you will give your all, not only for yourselves but for your families as well," I declared, acknowledging the sacrifices they would make.

"When our voyage to the Summer Islands succeeds, and you return as heroes, I will personally bestow knighthood upon each of you and grant lands near Duskendale for the establishment of your noble houses," I promised, witnessing the flames of ambition kindling in their eyes.

"I am well aware of the trials and tribulations you have faced to reach this moment," I said, acknowledging their struggles.

"But now, I offer you a golden opportunity to prove that it is not one's lineage but one's accomplishments that truly matter," I stated, watching as their determination surged.

Approaching the map with purpose, I continued, "Ser Davos shall lead you, alongside Captain Yanda of the Summer Isles, who will serve as your guide through the treacherous Summer Seas."

"Our mission is clear—to forge unbreakable bonds between House Targaryen and the esteemed houses of the Isles," I declared, casting my gaze towards the horizon.

"With success, riches and renown shall be yours," I promised, the flames of ambition burning brightly within me.

"This is merely the beginning," I proclaimed, rallying their spirits for the arduous journey ahead.

"Together, we shall surpass even the legendary Sea Snake in wealth and influence," I declared, their cheers reverberating throughout the chamber.

"Believe me, this journey signifies only the dawn of our grand endeavor," I assured them, my voice unwavering in its resolve.

"With each passing day, our fleet shall grow until it rivals the very stars in the sky," I proclaimed, envisioning a future of unparalleled prosperity and glory.

"And now, you all depart for the Summer Islands," I concluded, watching as they rose, ready to embark on their historic voyage.

Exiting my solar, we departed from Dun Fort in a procession, observed by the citizens of Duskendale, their eyes filled with a mixture of awe and respect.

In the past two months, Duskendale has undergone a complete transformation. Only my banner, depicting a golden dragon on a field of black, flies proudly on the walls of Dun Fort and throughout the city. Accompanying me are a thousand loyal men, knights and commoners alike, who have pledged their allegiance to me. The majority of them are hedge knights, eager to join my cause after witnessing the fate of House Darklyn.

The citizens of Duskendale regard me with a mixture of fear and respect, a sentiment I find rather gratifying. Their apprehension ensures their compliance, and I thrive in such an atmosphere.

Merchants, traders, and artisans from King's Landing, as well as various establishments from the capital, are making their way to Duskendale, drawn by the promise of prosperity and opportunity.

Recognizing the potential of Duskendale, I have designated it as the primary headquarters of the Royal Trading Company. While nobles here may view trade as beneath them, I see it as the key to unlocking the city's true potential. Their reluctance only serves to further solidify my resolve.

Construction is underway to expand the town, with a particular focus on the shipyard. Soon, Duskendale will be capable of producing its own ships, further bolstering its economic and military strength.

Although the inflow of traders to Duskendale has been impacted by the allure of King's Landing, I have taken steps to address this issue. By reducing port charges, I aim to make Duskendale a more attractive destination for merchants, thereby revitalizing its trade and commerce.

The renovation of Duskendale's walls was well underway, accompanied by the meticulous paving of its streets with sturdy stone. Additionally, an extensive network of sewers was being constructed to efficiently manage wastewater. With my ambitious vision for the future of the city, the last thing I desired was for it to be plagued by the stench of sewage.

In addition to these infrastructural improvements, I established an Academy of Law and Administration. Here, I oversaw the training of future justiciars and administrators who would form the backbone of my governing system. Their education progressed smoothly, aided by the acquisition of numerous tomes from the Citadel. Moreover, there was a steady influx of acolytes who, unlike traditional maesters, sought knowledge without the vow of celibacy or abstinence from worldly pleasures.

To ensure the efficient operation of these endeavors, I conducted weekly inspections. My reputation preceded me, instilling a sense of intimidation that deterred any potential troublemakers. This environment of discipline and order facilitated the smooth execution of my tasks, bringing us one step closer to realizing my grand vision for Duskendale.

As we made our way towards the port, fifteen ships awaited us, with cogs and carracks comprising the majority. Only five war galleys were present, intended for the protection of my trading fleet. Each ship proudly displayed my banner on its sails, a deterrent for any would-be pirate considering an attack.

The war galleys had been procured from the royal navy, a favor granted by my father despite the objections of Lucerys Velaryon, the Master of Ships. However, his disapproval mattered little in the face of my father's favoritism towards me.

"Safe travels, Davos," I said as I shook the man's hand.

"Thank you, Prince Daemon," he replied gratefully.

"Do not worry about your wife and child," I reassured him. "As long as I am there, they will be safe and protected."

"Thank you for everything, my prince," he said before departing.

Initially, after the downfall of House Darklyn, I sensed Davos's apprehension towards me. I had feared he might sever ties with me. However, his loyalty prevailed, a testament to the bond I had forged with him.

I realized that I was his golden ticket to a better life, and he would not abandon me easily. Having already displayed my authority over my subordinates, it was now time to demonstrate the rewards of loyalty. After all, why should they support me if I offered them nothing in return?

As the ships sailed away into the sunset, a sense of melancholy lingered in the air.

"I will miss Captain Yanda," Oberyn said wistfully.

"I doubt she will miss you," I retorted playfully.

"Oh, how you wound me, Daemon," he replied with a grin.

Observing my dedication to work, Oberyn remarked, "You've been burying yourself inwork , my friend. It's been two months since that fool's demise."

"What would you have me do, Oberyn?" I inquired, intrigued by his suggestion.

"You could have gone and enjoyed yourself with Captain Yanda," he suggested mischievously. "She seemed to be quite taken with you."

"Didn't you satisfy her in bed already?" I teased, eliciting a laugh from Oberyn.

"I did, but you possess a certain charm," he admitted, casting a playful glance my way.

As we walked back to the castle, a sense of contentment settled within me. It was a rare feeling, knowing that my efforts here would genuinely benefit House Targaryen. As we approached my solar, Oberyn at my side, I noticed the maester standing outside. The previous maester had conveniently met his end, and the new one knew better than to disturb me unnecessarily.

"Prince Daemon, a raven arrived from King's Landing," he announced before handing me the scroll and departing, leaving Oberyn and me alone in my solar.

As I settled down to read the message, Oberyn couldn't resist his usual banter. "Why do you even have Dornish red if you don't drink it?" he drawled out.

"I never acquired a taste for alcohol, Oberyn. It clouds the mind," I replied, scanning through the contents of the letter.

"And what about women, then? Don't they cloud your judgment?" he quipped with a grin.

"They certainly can," I admitted.

"In fact, for the past two moons, I've refrained from any dalliances," I confessed, causing Oberyn to chuckle.

"So, what does the letter say?" he inquired eagerly.

"I would know if you let me read in peace," I retorted with a smirk, prompting laughter from my companion.

As I perused the contents of the letter, my eyebrows rose in surprise.

"What happened, Daemon?" Oberyn asked, sensing my reaction.

"Father wants me to return to King's Landing," I informed him.

"And?" Oberyn prompted.

"Nothing else," I replied, feeling slightly irritated. "I'll have to delegate tasks now," I added, realizing the implications of my departure.

Just then, there was a knock on the door.

"Who is it?" I called out, receiving no response.

I sighed, feeling increasingly annoyed by the interruption.

"You should go and open the door, Daemon," Oberyn suggested with a knowing smile, handing me a vial. Without hesitation, I quickly drank its contents—a small quantity of poison.

Oberyn claimed it would help increase my resistance to poison. With a target on my back after the evenst in duskendale, I couldn't afford to take any chances.

"I hope it's not some serving girl you've called up like last time, so I can fuck her," I quipped, recalling a previous misadventure Oberyn had instigated.

Administering a town like Duskendale was challenging enough without distractions, especially considering my limited timeframe and how fats iw anted thigns to progress. Despite my indulgences, I knew how to keep my vices in check, with women being the primary temptation.

As I opened the door, I was taken aback by the sight before me. Standing there was a tall, striking woman with eyes the color of sandalwood, a mischievous glint dancing within them. She was dressed in a beautiful gown that accentuated her figure.

"Chataya, what are you doing here?" I asked, genuinely surprised by her presence in Duskendale.

"Prince Oberyn wanted to surprise you," she replied in her smooth, melodic voice, stepping closer to me. As we embraced, I caught a whiff of her perfume, and her touch lingered on my skin longer than necessary as she kissed my cheek.

As I escorted her inside, she spoke, "I didn't just come to see you. I bring vital information as well."

Intrigued, I inquired, "Such as?"

"Lord Hoster Tully has arrived in the capital alongside his youngest daughter," she revealed. "The queen has accepted her as her lady-in-waiting."

"The stupid fish wants to safeguard his position," I remarked with a hint of cynicism.

"But even the wolves are heading south," Chataya continued.

Surprised by this news, I pressed for more information. "What do you mean?"

"Lord Rickard Stark has also arrived in the capital with his daughter, Lady Lyanna," she disclosed, adding that the king had a private meeting with him.

Concern crept into my thoughts as I pondered the implications. "I hope the White Walkers didn't arrive early," I mused to myself. I had barely prepared for the impending threat of the Long Night.

"It makes sense why Father called me to meet him," I realized aloud.

"Is that all?" I inquired, sensing there was more.

"No, there is something else," Chataya replied cryptically. "But it's meant for your ears only, my prince," she added with a suggestive look.

As Oberyn prepared to leave, he couldn't resist a parting remark. "Thank me later, Daemon," he said with a grin, clearly amused by the unfolding events.

"Chataya, I appreciate your concern, but I have work to attend to," I stated firmly, trying to maintain my composure.

Undeterred, she slowly rose from her seat and approached me with an air of determination.

"But it is very important, my prince," she insisted, her voice soft and seductive as she perched herself on my lap.

"What is it?" I asked, struggling to control the rising heat within me.

"It's a personal matter, my prince," she whispered into my ear, her breath sending shivers down my spine.

"What is it?" I repeated, my desire threatening to overwhelm me as I tried to focus on her words.

"Prince Oberyn told me you haven't indulged in any pleasures for the past two moons," she revealed, her words igniting a primal urge within me.

"I was busy," I replied, my voice strained with desire.

"It's not good for the body, especially for someone as young as you," she murmured, her hand slipping into my trousers, teasing my manhood.

In that moment, I realized the full extent of Chataya's allure.

"I want you right now," she declared huskily, her lips brushing against mine as she kissed me passionately.

"Fuck it," I muttered, unable to resist any longer as I lifted her effortlessly into my arms.

"You'll eat your words, for I won't let you sleep the entire night," I promised, a wicked smile playing on my lips.

"Let's see my dragon," she whispered eagerly as I carried her to my bed, our bodies intertwining in a frenzy of desire as we surrendered to the intoxicating pleasure of each other's embrace, indulging in carnal delights until the break of dawn.

------

As my ship glided into the bustling port of King's Landing, the imposing silhouette of the Red Keep cast a shadow over the harbor. Standing on the deck, I was clad in the armor I had commissioned for this very moment. Its deep black hue was accented by the shimmering gold dragon emblazoned proudly upon the breastplate, a symbol of my allegiance and heritage.

Despite the grandeur of the scene before me, fatigue gnawed at my bones. Duskendale had been a trial, both physically and mentally, and the journey back to the capital had offered little respite. Chataya's demands had left me drained as she literally sucked me dry.

Stepping onto the worn plank that bridged the ship to the dock, my eyes caught sight of Stannis Baratheon, flanked by the stern-faced officers of the city watch. As if on cue, they all dropped to one knee, a show of deference that spoke volumes of the power I wielded in the eyes of those who served the crown.

A display of power on an entirely different level, I thought to myself as I approached the kneeling Stannis. Placing my hands on his shoulders, I lifted him up.

"I am sorry for your loss, cousin," I said, emphasizing the word 'cousin' to reaffirm our familial bond despite recent events.

"Thank you, Daemon," he replied.

Together, we rode towards the Red Keep, the streets lined with curious smallfolk eager for a glimpse of me.

During our journey, Stannis recounted the events that transpired in the City Watch during my absence.

Upon reaching the gates, I dismounted.

"Stannis, you will no longer be the acting commander of the City Watch," I declared.

"Due to my duties in Duskendale, I can no longer manage both responsibilities. Therefore, I nominate you as the Lord Commander of the City Watch," I continued, watching as realization dawned in his eyes.

"You will make Uncle Steffon proud," I assured him, and he nodded with determination.

With that settled, I turned my attention to the task ahead.

As Oberyn and I strode towards the great hall, I couldn't ignore the whispers and admiring glances that followed in our wake. Every eye seemed to linger on the figure of the returning prince, and I reveled in the attention, feeling the weight of my lineage and destiny in each step.

Upon reaching the threshold of the grand hall, the doors swung open, revealing a sea of nobles gathered within. The space was tight, filled with the relics of bygone eras, reminders of the power and majesty of the Targaryen dynasty.

The herald's proclamation rang out, introducing me as Prince Daemon Targaryen, Prince of Duskendale, and second son of King Aerys II and Queen Rhaella Targaryen. With a confident swagger, I entered the hall, my gaze fixed solely upon the Iron Throne, where my father sat in silent observation.

A flicker of amusement danced across his features as our eyes met, a silent acknowledgment of my arrival. Near the base of the throne, Mother and Rhaegar stood, their presence a reminder of the family ties that bound us all.

Kneeling before the imposing seat of power, I spoke with conviction, my voice echoing through the hall. "Father, I have returned," I declared, each word imbued with the certainty of my actions.

"I have fulfilled my promise to you, Father. House Darklyn has fallen, and their defiance has been met with fire and blood," I proclaimed, my gaze unwavering.

Aerys' words of approval washed over me, a validation of my deeds and the strength of our bloodline. "The events of Duskendale shall serve as a warning to all who dare challenge the authority of House Targaryen," he declared, his voice carrying the weight of centuries of rule.

"The man before me is not just my son but a true scion of our house, one who accomplishes whatever task he sets his eyes upon," Aerys continued, his pride evident in his tone.

With his command, I rose to my feet, as Father embraced me, a rare display of affection.

"I have a gift for you," Father whispered softly, his voice carrying the weight of anticipation.

My heart quickened as Lord Commander Gerold stepped forward, bearing a slender sword in a dark sheath. In its hilt, a ruby glimmered, casting a crimson glow that seemed to dance with ancient power.

"Dark Sister has been in my house since the time of Valyria," Father revealed, his words tinged with reverence for the blade's storied history.

I couldn't contain my excitement as he continued, recounting how the sword had been thought lost with Bloodraven, only to be rediscovered by the men of the Night's Watch and the Wardens of the North.

As Father spoke of the legendary wielders of Dark Sister—Visenya Targaryen, Daemon the Rogue Prince, and Aemon the Dragonknight—I felt a surge of adrenaline course through my veins. This was no ordinary gift; it was a legacy, a symbol of my family's might and honor.

"Now it needs a new wielder," Father declared, his eyes alight with pride and expectation.

Inwardly, I couldn't contain my excitement. "Hell yes," I thought, my heart pounding with anticipation.

With eager anticipation, I immediately dropped to one knee as Father bestowed Dark Sister upon me, declaring me its rightful heir.

I drew the sword from its sheath, feeling its weight and balance in my hand. As I held it aloft, a sense of power and destiny coursed through me.

"A beauty like you should not be kept trapped in a sheath," I whispered to the sword, my voice brimming with excitement and reverence.

The crowd erupted into cheers, their jubilation echoing off the walls of the great hall. In that moment, as Dark Sister gleamed in the light, I knew that my destiny had been forged, and I vowed to wield its power with courage and honor, for Dark Sister was not just a sword—it was a legacy, and now, it was mine.

----

I stood amidst the hushed chamber, the weight of my words heavy upon me. The small council, a gathering of distinguished minds and influential voices, awaited my proposals with anticipation.

"Son," my father's voice cut through the quiet, his wineglass poised delicately in his hand, "what reason prompted you to convene this council meeting?"

"Father," I began, steadying myself for the momentous announcements I was about to make, "it is with a heavy heart that I must relinquish my role as the Lord Commander of the City Watch. My duties as Prince of Duskendale demand my full attention."

Nods of understanding rippled through the council members as they absorbed my words.

"Therefore, I propose that Stannis Baratheon be appointed as the new Lord Commander of the City Watch," I declared, preempting any objections with a firm tone.

"He is a man of unwavering loyalty and honor. His youth is inconsequential in the face of his merits," I continued, emphasizing Stannis's virtues.

"Moreover, Stannis is not only a trusted ally but family. In light of the tragedy that befell uncle Steffon, it seems fitting to honor his memory by entrusting Stannis with this vital responsibility," I added, ensuring my sentiments were clear.

Before dissent could rear its head, my father intervened, silencing any potential opposition with a commanding presence.

"I agree with my son," he proclaimed, his authority brooking no argument. "Inform Stannis of his appointment as the new commander of the Gold Cloaks."

The Master of Laws, though initially hesitant, nodded in agreement, acknowledging the wisdom of our decision.

"Prince Daemon," Tywin's voice cut through the air like a blade, his piercing gaze fixed on me, "what is the other matter you wish to discuss?"

"I seek an increased budget allocation for our trading company," I stated firmly, meeting Tywin's gaze head-on. "Specifically, I aim to expand our fleet to one hundred ships within the span of two years."

At my declaration, murmurs of surprise and skepticism rippled through the council chamber. Lord Qarlton Chelsted, the Master of Coin, raised his wine glass in protest.

"Such a proposal is impractical," he interjected, his tone laced with skepticism.

"Respectfully, my king, I urge you to reconsider," he continued, addressing my father directly.

I intervened swiftly, my tone cutting through the tension in the room. "Do not presume to dictate to my father, Lord Qarlton," I admonished firmly, mindful of my father's pride.

"My son speaks truth," my father affirmed, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "Know your place, Qarlton."

Apologies were offered, but Lord Qarlton persisted, citing the exorbitant costs such an endeavor would entail.

"I am well aware of the financial implications," I retorted, a hint of mockery tainting my words.

"But rest assured, the coffers of House Targaryen are not barren. And this venture is hardly frivolous; it promises substantial returns."

"And it's not as though I'll be squandering the funds on brothels," I remarked dryly, a smirk playing at the corners of my lips. "After all, I already have ownership of the city's brothels," I added with a wry tone, eliciting a hearty laugh from my father at my jest.

"Consider this an investment, father," I urged, framing my proposal in terms of long-term gain. "Trade with our neighbors across the Narrow Sea holds the promise of substantial profit."

"Lord Velaryon, surely you can attest to the wealth garnered by your ancestor, the famed Sea Snake, through his extensive voyages," I prompted, turning to the nobleman for support. His agreement bolstered my argument.

"You speak true, Prince Daemon," he affirmed.

Unmoved by talk of wealth, my father waved off the notion of counting coppers. "I have no interest in such trivial matters," he dismissed, his focus unwavering.

"Tywin, provide my son with whatever gold he requires," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for debate. I couldn't help but smile at his unwavering support.

"Is that all, Daemon?" my father inquired.

"Yes, father," I confirmed.

"Good. I wish to speak with my son alone," he declared as the others exited the chamber.

"Father motioned for me to join him, pouring a cup of Dornish red as I settled beside him.

"Son, I was filled with pride when I heard of your valor in rescuing your brother. But what truly warmed my heart was your handling of those traitors," he began, his voice brimming with paternal pride.

"Would you indulge me with the tale?" he asked, his tone akin to a child awaiting a bedtime story.

"Very well, father," I acquiesced, launching into the retelling of my deeds.

As I recounted the demise of Denys Darklyn and the fate of Lady Serala, my father's laughter echoed through the chamber, mingling with tears of mirth. And when I described the cleansing fire of wildfire consuming our enemies, I glimpsed a hint of moisture in his eyes.

"Remarkable, my son, simply remarkable," he praised, his joy palpable.

"I am immensely proud of you," he declared, his words resonating with genuine affection.

"Father, may I be excused? I find myself quite weary," I ventured.

"Of course, my son," he replied, his tone understanding.

"Tonight, there will be a feast to celebrate your victory," he added, a smile gracing his lips.

"I will be there, father," I affirmed as I made my way out of the room, grateful for his support and looking forward to the celebration.

I made my way towards my mother's chambers in Aegon's Holdfast. As I entered the room, I saw her ladies-in-waiting present, along with Daeron.

"Daemon!" he cried out with joy, rushing towards me.

"My little dragon," I said affectionately, lifting him up in my arms.

"Look how much you've grown," I remarked, spinning him around.

"I missed you so much, Daemon," he said, his arms tightening around me. He was a sweet child, and I cherished him dearly.

After setting him down, he began recounting his experiences during my absence. But my attention shifted to Mother, who was watching me closely.

"Excuse me, brother," I said, making my way towards her.

"Mother," I greeted, opening my arms for an embrace. "I thought you'd rush into my arms," I teased, but her expression remained impassive.

"Cersei, Janna, Lysa, please leave us," she commanded coldly, and they obediently exited the room. Cersei's smile didn't go unnoticed, and I returned it with a smirk.

"It seems she's warmed up to me after I saved her prince charming," I mused, before noticing Barristan standing in the distance.

"Barry," I greeted him warmly. "How have you been?"

But he didn't respond, his gaze filled with disappointment.

"Barry, is everything alright?" I inquired, but he remained silent, his disapproval palpable.

"Ser Barristan, please take Daeron to his room," Mother instructed, and Daeron protested.

"We'll meet at the feast, brother, and you can tell me all about it then," I assured him, ruffling his hair affectionately.

As they left, I turned to face Mother, sensing tension in the air.

"What's wrong, Mother?" I asked, puzzled by her demeanor. "You seem angry with me for some reason."

"How dare you ask me what happened, Daemon!" she erupted, her voice sharp and cutting. I was taken aback by her outburst; Mother had never shouted at me before.

"What do you mean, Mother?" I asked, trying to comprehend her sudden anger.

"Innocent women and children died by your hands, son, and you show no remorse for your actions," she accused, her voice trembling with emotion.

"You were such a good boy, what happened to you, my son?" she lamented, her voice breaking.

"Nothing has changed, Mother," I protested. "I've simply grown up and seen the world for what it truly is."

"Do you understand the weight of your actions, Daemon?" she demanded.

"I understand fully well, Mother," I responded, my tone tinged with defiance.

"After what I did to the Darklyns, not a single house will dare to rebel against House Targaryen. And if they do, then I will kill every man, woman, and child bearing even a drop of that house's blood," I asserted firmly.

But before I could finish, Mother's hand collided with my cheek in a resounding slap, leaving me stunned and reeling.

"You are becoming a monster, Daemon," she cried out, her words cutting deep. "No good man does such a thing. Where is your honor as a knight?"

As the weight of her words sank in, I stood there, wounded and shaken, the realization of her disappointment hitting me like a physical blow.

Her accusation pierced through me like a dagger, and in that moment, I lost control.

"You speak of honor? Where was Lord Darklyn's honor when he captured Rhaegar?" I challenged, my voice dripping with contempt. "Did you even see his injuries? What I did to the Darklyns was me being lenient, Mother."

"Can you even comprehend, in that small mind of yours, what the Darklyns did?" I continued, my laughter bitter and mocking. "They dared to capture the fucking Crown Prince! What kind of message does that send to our vassals? That they can do the same and get away scot-free?"

"Do you actually believe our ancestors were good people?" I scoffed, the sound of my laughter ringing hollow. "Our entire rule is built on fire and blood. Hundreds and thousands of men, women, and children died in the fucking Conquest, and that's why we're ruling Westeros while others grovel beneath us."

"Everything I fucking do, I do for House Targaryen," I declared vehemently, my words laced with determination. "I will kill any man, woman, or child who dares to threaten our house, because someone had to get their hands dirty, and it certainly cannot be you."

As my words struck her, I watched as tears welled in her eyes.

"And of all people, Mother, you should not be the one speaking of honor," I sneered, my tone cutting. "After all, I know who my real father is."

At my revelation, her shocked expression confirmed what I suspected. With a face drained of color, she looked up at me, her eyes filled with disbelief.

"I will take my leave, my queen," I announced coldly, the weight of our confrontation heavy in the air as I turned and left her room, leaving her to grapple with the truth I had laid bare.

I made my way to my chambers, my emotions in turmoil.

"Fuck!" I shouted, the force of my anger causing passersby to avoid me, casting fearful glances in my direction.

As I reached my chamber, I found Cersei standing outside.

"You seem to be in a bad mood," she observed cautiously.

But I wasn't in the mood for small talk.

"What do you want, Cersei?" I snapped, my tone harsher than intended.

"I made this for you, Daemon," she said, handing me a cloth embroidered with a golden dragon.

"I made it for you because you kept your promise," she explained softly.

"Thank you, Cersei," I said, my anger dissipating as I admired the craftsmanship.

"It's lovely," I added, and a smile graced her face.

"I'm tired for now, Cersei, so I'll see you tonight at the feast," I said, and she nodded before leaving. As I entered my room, I couldn't help but admire the embroidery and how lovely it looked.

The conflict with Mother weighed heavily on my mind as I saw Rhaegar standing before me.

"Daemon," he greeted.

"Rhaegar, I'm not in the mood for verbal battles, so just leave," I said, placing Dark Sister on the table.

"I'm here to thank you, brother, for what you did for me," he said sincerely.

"Don't mention it, brother. The past is the past," I replied.

"I heard of your plots in Duskendale, brother," he said.

"And what? You seem to feel I did the wrong thing?" I retorted.

"No, I would never say that to you," he reassured me.

"Do you know, Daemon, when Lord Denys and his wife were cutting me in the dungeons, I looked into the flames," he began, and a sense of unease settled over me.

"And I saw something," he continued.

"What did you see, Rhaegar?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.

"I saw the flames engulfing House Darklyn to the ground," he said, his hands on my shoulders.

"But that wasn't all, brother. I saw someone," he revealed.

"Who?" I inquired.

"I saw a woman in dressed in red gazing at me and then she spoke," he said.

"She said the prophecy is true," he added, and I rubbed my temples, overwhelmed by the implications.

"What a wonderful thing, brother," I said, trying to process the information.

"We'll surely talk about this later, but for now, you may leave," I said, gently pushing him out of my room.

I was too emotionally and physically exhausted to think clearly and needed a nap.