Chapter 4: Prologue X— Interlude: The Rogue Prince

Chapter Text

After delivering his niece to her father, Prince Daemon Targaryen marched straight to the Harrenhal stables, where the dragons were kept. He felt bereft of mercy that particular evening. The keepers of the dragon he'd brought from the capital gave him no resistance as Caraxes was swiftly saddled and mounted. In the blackness of the night, the Blood Wyrm took to the skies. So high it flew over the God's Eye, the moon illuminating God's Tear straying from its great birther as Caraxes itself steadily crossed over it, the river guiding the man's path ably. It took all of Daemon's self-control to not spur the beast onward as fast as lightning; but it could not be tonight, no. Caraxes had to be ready to return to Harrenhal as soon as the Prince had finished his business.

The sun was slowly rising on the horizon as King's Landing emerged. He circled the Dragonpit three times, bidding the dragon keepers for their attention, and when he felt they'd seen him, he brought Caraxes down to land, the keepers quickly taking his saddle off and placing a chain-collar around the noble beast's neck. Minutes later, Daemon took a horse down Rhaenys' Hill, barely paying a glance to the gawking onlookers as he rode down the Street of the Sisters, through Dragon Square, and up the King's Way to the Red Keep.

Daemon dismounted his horse and stormed through the castle. His wrath was unforeseen and unceremonious to those he came upon, and as he made his way to the Royal Apartments, into his grandfather's solar, his fury came to be seen as his hair grew unkempt and wild, teeth gnarled into fierce hatred. Ser Ryam Redwyne had let him by after some minutes had gone. Behind the thick wooden desk, leaned over many pieces of parchment strewn about, sat King Jaehaerys. Daemon's grandfather. The King paid him a mere momentary glance before returning his gaze to the table beneath his arms.

"Daemon," he stated, no trace of emotion within his voice. "For what reason have you returned to King's Landing? You should be at Harrenhal to rally the lords behind Viserys."

The Prince's eyes scrutinized his every wrinkle, dug through him like daggers and pins, anger focused and flowing.

"I was," he began, his voice gravelly and his arms crossed. "And returning I shall, if not for the day's tiresome breaths upon my shoulders, then for the benefit of my constituents. My visit today concerns another matter."

"Mm?" Jaehaerys mumbled, uncaring.

"Earlier in my day, I was confronted by Rhaenyra. She delivered upon me a rather important piece of information. That Yorbert, of House Royce, had arrived with my own son to threaten us! I came there to see the truth of the matter, and on the ground, I found my boy beaten in dust."

Jaehaerys looked at him from his papers and saw the Prince out of sorts with himself. He sighed to himself. "Beaten? Or merely knocked to the ground?"

The grandson's eyes grew redder and his hands tightened.

Jaehaerys privately smirked to himself. "Daemon, I'm well aware of your distaste for House Royce. Aly was as well. She allowed you to come home, after all," he said, hideously sympathetic. "I've already told you once before. If you want your flesh and blood at your side, you're free to return to Runestone at any time. All you need do is take your place as Lady Rhea's husband, of which, I'm sure, many would be glad . . . and some horrified, I suppose."

"Return to a wife who fought me on every little thing she could think of? Return to that sickly Uncle who sought to fuck her? Return, even, to the foolish grandfather who had dreams well above his station?" Daemon had spoken plainly and rhetorically, the point being his bitterness of the fold. Even as he said it, the consideration had entered his mind for a brief moment, and he struck it down instantly. "No."

The King shrugged. "Then your son will remain with his mother," he said. "The boy will preside over Runestone one day. And when he does, he should know the people he will rule over from the seat he will rule them from."

"Yes," Daemon replied, short-tempered and quick. "If Yorbert doesn't follow in your footsteps and name his son heir over my bronze bitch, I would surmise you to be correct."

The cold eyes of his King shot through him, cold and deadly. Jaehaerys's frosty gaze was something he couldn't describe to anyone, it was merely something to be experienced.

The King growled calmly at him, all warmth gone from his voice, "Lady Rhea has spent her entire life learning how to be heir. Rhaenys was a girl of eight-and-ten, much too unprepared to take on the Iron Throne. Had Aemon lived to take his seat there, he would have ensured her ready to rule. Your father was who we needed at the time. Your brother, at the very least, has a strong marriage with House Arryn. It will keep the realm far more stable than Rhaenys and the Sea Snake could ever hope to achieve.

"And as for Lord Royce, if he dared to do so, then he would swiftly be reminded of why I took the throne after Maegor's death. Stability was needed, and I've spent more years than you know binding this realm together from the wounds my uncle left throughout it. He'll not just keep a captive Prince in his court, do not be foolish, nor think me one. Besides that, it was in the contract that arranged your betrothal to Lady Rhea that she was heir, and your issue would succeed her. If he wishes to break that agreement, he will find that oathbreaking is quite comfortably punishable under my reign."

Daemon bared his teeth and glared at the King. "But grandfather—"

"No. Enough talk, boy, I am King here," the old man proclaimed. "Ser Ryam!" he then called, and the aged Kingsguard came upon them, entering the room aware of their tense exchange. The King grumbled, "Escort my grandson to his rooms. I expect him to stay for the sennight, at least."

Though Daemon looked to reply, Jaehaerys's eyes grew even worse, silencing him with their frigid efficiency like none other. Silently, Daemon complied as Ser Ryam escorted him to his rooms in the Tower of the Hand, as though a child being scolded by his parents. For any other who dared to command him so, Dark Sister would gutted them capably, but not his grandfather. King Jaehaerys was one of the few men the Prince would heed, for he was better than him with a blade, and almost certainly wiser. A challenge to his grandfather would only end with his death and it was best to avoid such pointlessness in life.

Seven days passed by, countless hours flowing away, and Jaehaerys refused to see Daemon during any one of them. In frustration, the Prince turned to the brothels of the Street of Silk for comfort in those darkened nights. When the sennight was up, he was ordered to return to Harrenhal, as he had been before, and under no circumstances would he touch any Royce. Biting his tongue was a task more difficult than taming the broadest of dragons, but Daemon did so, mounting Caraxes once more, and returning to the burnt husk his grandfather's grandfather had created so long ago with dragon's flames.

Begrudgingly, he threw himself into ensuring the election of his brother— drinking in taverns with lords, jovial displays of martial skill, loud and forceful speaking during the deliberations, and direct intimidations and cold bribery of positions at the Red Keep. Daemon knew the King would likely be furious with him. If Jaehaerys hadn't wanted Lucerys home, His Grace then could perform his duties as King unburdened and keep those promises 'needed' to put his chosen successor upon the throne.

Yet, through all of that, his mind couldn't be taken from the child who shared his face and eyes, the boy who'd seen in the pavilion that night, even more so after numerous servants brought a chest filled with books to the Targaryen's fold said to be of his son's worth. He'd ensured the three were paid well and given positions in his brother's household, and when his niece cried, he did his best to soothe the girl till the tears fell no more. Let it never be said I don't reward my allies, he thought, as their newest servants helped put Rhaenyra to bed.

His hard work had finally paid off one-and-ten days later, at which hour the formal announcement was made that Viserys had been chosen by the Great Council. Daemon had given his brother a slap on the nape and a hearty chuckle, before the lads all returned to King's Landing, and his sibling was installed as Prince of Dragonstone.

Over the next several months, Daemon continued to ask his grandfather to pursue and retrieve Lucerys from the Vale's castle, and time and time again, Jaehaerys refused him, even when he'd brought Rhaenyra and set upon her damned eyes upon him and groused and compelled the man to do many a dumb thing, he'd still refused to allow it. Rhaenyra had seemed, as such, to cease her asking once the lady began to receive letters from Lucerys, but she still asked if the man would bring the boy to the Red Keep. He disliked telling her no, but there wasn't any other answer he could provide.

Thus, nearly seven months after the end of the Great Council, late in the afternoon, Prince Daemon Targaryen stood in his grandfather's solar once again.

Yet, as had been the case in each of his prior visits, nothing of note had been accomplished. Just as Daemon had come to yell, however, the doors to the King's private room crashed open, doors near-flying off the hinges, and Aemma Arryn came running through.

"Grandfather!" she yelled. Jaehaerys looked at the door swiftly, and his face twisted into one of confusion. Daemon, too, looked at his cousin as she ran in, clutching a piece of parchment tightly, tears staining her bright-red face.

"Aemma," Jaehaerys said. "What is so urgent that you forced your way into my solar at this time? I'm within the midst of a meeting."

Aemma shook her head.

"This is more important!" she said, streams down her cheeks. Sighing, Jaehaerys waved for the letter to be brought to him. Aemma came to him and placed the letter on the King's desk. He grasped the note and began to read, exasperation slowly painting his face, and as he read, his old features creased into horror, then became rage. The King grit his teeth and tossed the letter to Daemon.

Aemma,

I am aware that I usually write for Luke to exchange words with Rhaenyra, but not today. Grandfather has attempted to wed Uncle Robar to Lady Jeyne, and Luke tried to interfere within the ceremony. Grandfather beat Luke into unconsciousness, and even now, my son is locked within a small room, unable to be seen by a Maester. Please, tell Daemon of this. We may not care for each other, but I know in my heart that he cares for our son. He must come to the Gates of the Moon and aide us, if he indeed hears my words. I am not too proud to beg, and I plead for help. Please.

Rhea Royce

Daemon came to seethe with a boiling fury upon his finishing the letter. That insipid worm dared to harm his own flesh, his blood? That was a mistake of Robar's to believe, that the man could touch what he pleased and feel no consequence. And the old man Royce bought in, just as much. Daemon's hand clenched and crumpled the parchment within hand as he stared into the hearth nearby and observed it's crimson flames, not dissimilar to his own passion. A moment later, a voice snapped him from his trance.

"Daemon!" his grandfather called. Daemon looked up to see Jaehaerys applying his seal to two pieces of parchment on the desk in front of him. "I'm entrusting these to you. This one orders Lord Royce's deposition as Lord Protector of the Vale, and the other officially orders Prince Lucerys Targaryen to be handed over as a Ward of the Crown." Daemon's heart stopped for a moment, before Jaehaerys nodded. "Saddle Caraxes, and go get your son." Minutes later, Daemon had changed into riding leathers and stored his grandfather's letters in a saddlebag.

Daemon rode for the Dragonpit. When he arrived, the Dragon Keepers were already carefully saddling and feeding Caraxes. They each nodded to Daemon as he walked up. The beast noticed it's master and watched him carefully as he stalked the ground towards him. He lowered his neck, allowing the man to scratch the back of the dragon's neck. Caraxes gave a happy puff of air as the Dragon Keepers finished tightening his saddle.

After securing the saddlebag and Dark Sister, Daemon chained himself to the beast and unfurled his whip. With a snap through the air, the dragon raised his head vigilantly, and his wings flapped, running along the road towards the walls, rising steadily through the air with a leap into the air around the Dragonpit. When he'd risen far enough, Caraxes turned north and raced along the landscape. Speed was paramount, but so was his noble mount's precious vigor. The Prince's fear remained steady still.

Two sunrises came and went, and Daemon saw the sunlight's reflection off the marble of the Eyrie at the top of the Giant's Lance. As he approached, his eyes grew wides, fixed to the base of the mountain. An army of a thousand men stood outside of the castle nearby, resting on a path beside the foothills. With the snap of his whip, Caraxes turned and began to descend, the beast's rumbling piercing the quiet of the day. The men below scattered out and ran, panicked and unsure.

The Prince chuckled to himself, Seems to be even the peasants of the Vale know what to do when The Dragon arrives.

Coming to rest his great paws upon the ground, Caraxes finished it's descent, just before the Gates of the Moon. Within moments, a man came riding toward him.

"Your Grace!" he called, bowing his head. Daemon returned his own vocalization— here ye, and speak, and so he did, "Ser Harrold Waynwood, Your Grace! I've come to alert you: we here are under the command of the Lord Redfort. He's come to take Lady Jeyne Arryn into his custody."

The prince rolled his eyes, and he asked the boy, "And I'm to assume you wish my help in that endeavor?"

Ser Harrold nodded.

"We'd be most grateful, Your Grace," he replied. "Lord Royce has barricaded the entire mountain, and he's working his allies to raise an army. This must end swiftly."

Daemon huffed a sigh and understood, turning to face the gates themselves.

"Tell Lord Redfort that the King has ordered Yorbert Royce's removal as Lord Protector," the prince grumbled. "He will stand down and face Royal Judgement."

Ser Harrold rode back across the line as Caraxes began to move onward, leaping across the fortifications and landing within keep before the castle itself. A single man from atop the inner sanctum stepped forward and called down to him.

"Who comes to the Gates of the Moon?" he shouted down.

Daemon rolled his eyes at the man. Wasn't the pale red dragon obvious enough? Perhaps not for the foreman. No, the messenger had wanted him to state himself, waste his time, time enough for the men to prepare all their crossbows and all their steely knives. With his eyes, he spotted men hiding behind parapets, clicking their weapons into fashion, loading arrows and pulling straps. Violence would lead the way then. Good. The prince cracked his whip harshly.

"Dracarys!" he yelled. Caraxes raised his head and shot a plume of red fire, grazing the parapets. Most who'd been training crossbows threw down their weapons and fled. Only a few attempted to fire, the bolts bouncing hard off the armored scales of Caraxes, who let out a whine of annoyance.

"Apologies, old friend," he said, ushering Caraxes farther forward. "You break the King's Peace by attacking his personal envoy! Throw down your weapons and come out, and you will be granted mercy." If not, Daemon thought, Caraxes shall feast tonight. Immediately, a voice called that an envoy would be dispatched with haste.

Minutes later, a young man, scantly more than a boy, came riding forth from the Gates of the Moon, the portcullis closing shut behind him loudly. He rode up, stopping a short distance from Caraxes and looking up. No banner of peace. That will be his mistake.

"Your Grace, I am Ser Adrian Coldwater! We are pleased to see you here on this fine day, might I inquire as to why you have come today?" he said, with all the pleasantries needed. Daemon smirked. He knew he had to win now or risk possibly harming Caraxes.

"Ser, I have been sent as King Jaehaerys' envoy, as there have been, clearly accurate, reports of a grand force marching here, and His Grace has endeavored to see this resolved. Quickly," Daemon said, lying through his teeth. Yet, the Coldwater boy lapped up every word of it. "Permit me entry to the Gates of the Moon, and this will be resolved." Ser Adrian nodded.

"Your Grace, I will confer with Ser Arnold, the Keeper of the Gates, but if he and Lord Royce allow it, we will permit your entry," he said. Daemon frowned and shook his head, clear enough for the Coldwater boy.

"You misunderstand, boy." he said. "I am His Grace's Envoy. I speak with his authority. I will be granted entry, or those gates will melt with dragonfire and the force behind me will discuss terms after taking the keep. Am I clear?" The Coldwater boy opened his mouth.

"Your Gr—" he began.

"Am. I. Clear?" Daemon snarled, readying the whip. The Coldwater boy gulped.

"Your Grace, I cannot—" he began again.

"Very well. Dracarys!" Daemon called, snapping his whip. In an instant, the red flames bathed the knight and his horse. The screams lasted but moments, before just the crackling of the flame remained. Further screams erupted from atop the walls, as Daemon waited.

Several minutes passed, before the gates opened again, and several men exited on horseback, a flag of truce waving behind, and hands raised to show no weapons.

"The castle is yours, Your Grace. There remains an ongoing struggle inside, but we control the entrance and the path to the Eyrie," one of the men at the front said. Slowly, the men of Lord Redfort's army began moving up. Daemon nodded to the men.

"Take them prisoner, and seize the castle!" he ordered. The men behind him cried out and charged. Daemon urged Caraxes into the air, flying over the wall and into the main courtyard, incinerating countless men-at-arms who attempted to stop him. The easiest way to tell friend from foe was if their spirits dampened or soared when a dragon landed near them.

It was over in minutes, Lord Redfort's men occupying the castle. Soon after, a small collection of men in Arryn colors came forward, and knelt before Daemon.

"Ser Arnold Arryn, Your Grace. Keeper of the Gates of the Moon for my niece, Lady Jeyne Arryn. When I'd seen you'd arrived, I ordered my men to open the gates for you. Yorbert was going to get us all killed with his plan," he finished, spitting the last part out. Daemon knew full well his motives weren't nearly as magnanimous as he was stating, but there wasn't much point in arguing.

"Very well, Ser Arnold. For continued loyalty to His Grace, you will be permitted to hold your position as Keeper of the Gates of the Moon," Daemon said, before Ser Arnold could continue. Arnold looked taken aback, then angered, then returned his face to a neutral one after a look from Caraxes. Daemon scoffed. He was letting the Andal keep his life and his post, was that not enough for him?

Moments later, Daemon dismounted Caraxes and ordered Ser Arnold dismissed. The man, clearly annoyed, walked to the side. "Bring the traitors and ringleaders to the courtyard, we will have a trial," Daemon ordered. "And send a Maester to attend to Lucerys," he added. While he was desperate to see his son, his grandfather's orders overrode any desire he had.

The impromptu trial was set up soon after, with Daemon atop a raised chair in the courtyard, Caraxes next to him.

"Bring forth the Lord Royce of Runestone!" Daemon called. The aged lord, still in his armor, was hauled to the front.

Daemon gave him a smirk. How the tables have turned, old man.

"I told you to hope that my grandfather forgave you, Yorbert," Daemon snarled. "He didn't. The wedding was just an excuse," he continued. "You have disobeyed a royal command, abused your powers as Regent and Warden of the East, and attacked a member of the Royal Family. For this, you—"

"I demand a Trial by Combat!" he yelled. Daemon chuckled.

"You do, do you?" he said to himself. He momentarily considered simply naming Caraxes as his champion, but none of these lords would accept that, and he didn't need a dagger in the back at a time like this. "Very well. Do you wish to name a champion, or will you fight yourself?"

"I will kill you myself!" Yorbert roared.

"Very well, give Lord Yorbert a sword, and take his irons off!" he called. In moments, Yorbert's irons were off and a sword had been pressed into his hands, as he was pushed into the courtyard. With a smirk, Daemon drew Dark Sister. Yorbert rushed forward, but Daemon simply stood back and parried his blows, before driving Dark Sister into the Lord's neck. For such a famed swordsman, he was weak.

"Bastard sisterfucker! You mock the sacred institution of Trial by Combat!" a man screamed, rushing past the guards and at Daemon. Robar Royce charged forward, but didn't see the shadow of the blood wyrm above him, and didn't until Caraxes had swallowed his head whole, biting it off, and roasting it and the rest of his body finely. Several long and grueling minutes later, all of the traitors had been killed by Caraxes.

"In my authority as envoy of King Jaehaerys Targaryen, I, Prince Daemon Targaryen, name Lord Creighton Redfort as the new Lord Protector of the Eyrie and Acting Warden of the East. Ensure Caraxes is fed and housed, this trial is over," he said. Immediately, Daemon sheathed Dark Sister and made his way through the rooms of the castle, until he reached the Maester's Tower. Just outside the door, Daemon stopped for a moment, as Rhea stood there.

"Daemon," she said in a harsh tone. Daemon simply looked at his estranged wife, expressionless.

"Rhea," he replied. "You know why I'm here." Rhea nodded, her glare only barely lessening.

"You got my letter," she said. "As much as it pains me to say it… thank you, for coming here."

"You were right in the letter," Daemon said, walking past her and to the door. "I do care for the boy, and he won't be hurt anymore." Slowly, he opened the door and entered the Maester's chamber.

In the room, Lucerys sat on a small bed in the back, with a man and woman on one side, and Lady Jeyne Arryn on the other. His clothes were rather ragged, but besides several welts and bruises, he looked fine. After a few moments, the boy's eyes widened and he looked up at Daemon. Despite himself, he hesitated for a moment, before continuing forward.

"Are you well, Lucerys?" he asked. The boy's face froze for a second, before a smile came across his face.

"Ya, I'm alright. Maester Walric said I'll heal in a few more days!" he said, his eyes never leaving Daemon. A moment later, the young woman who had been standing next to the bed turned to Daemon and curtsied.

"I'm Sister Beth, one of your son's teachers," she said. "Maester Walric said his bruises would heal within a few days, though his welts will need to stay bandaged, and be checked by a Maester for corruption." Daemon nodded at her explanation.

"I just said that, Beth!" he called, crossing his arms. The messing up of the pronunciations reminded him that his son was only five. Beth smiled, at Lucerys and nodded.

"Were you part of Lucerys' household at Runestone?" Daemon asked. Beth nodded.

"Aye. Myself and Father Jon were within his household, as handed down to us by the Godshome of the Stone Heart," she said. Daemon didn't even pretend to know what that meant, but accepted it.

"Very well, you'll be permitted to gather your belongings from Runestone, and remain serving him," Daemon said, producing his letter. "On orders from my grandfather, Lucerys is now a Ward of the Crown, and will be coming back to King's Landing with me." Lucerys' head shot up at that.

"I… I'll be leaving Runestone?" he asked. Daemon nodded.

"Yes, and you'll live in the same castle as Rhaenyra, so you'll never have to be without her again," he said. Lucerys' smile grew even wider, but then his face fell.

"But, what about mother?" he asked. Daemon sighed.

"You'll be permitted to write to her, but she is Lady of Runestone now, and she'll need to become accustomed to her new position. When you are of age to foster, we can talk about sending you to her again," he replied. Daemon had no real intention on following through on that, but taking the boy to King's Landing would be easier if he accepted it. After a few moments, Lucerys nodded.

"Good. We leave at sunrise," Daemon said, before turning around and leaving the room. He'd taken four steps from the door before Rhea cornered him.

"As Lady of Runestone, Luke is my heir now," she said. "He will need to return and meet the people. I know King Jaehaerys told you to take him. Raise him happy and strong, and you'll never be forced to look upon my face again, he can do that himself." Daemon nodded before she finally backed off.

The next morning, Caraxes was rested and ready to fly. Careful to avoid his welts, Daemon strapped Lucerys to him and wrapped him in the chains. He'd let the boy delay them from saying goodbye to his mother and to Jeyne Arryn, before he'd finally accepted being strapped to Daemon. Once both were securely chained, Caraxes rushed forward and flapped his wings, soaring into the air around the Giant's Lance, before turning south and flying as fast as he could.

It was nearly midday before Lucerys finally spoke.

"What does the whip do?" he asked, looking at the coiled whip attached to Daemon's belt. Smirking at the child, he answered.

"It's used to direct the dragon. With the sound, they respond to what you've trained. I've needed to use it less as I've become closer with Caraxes. Grandfather rarely needs to use his when he flies, and Grandmother didn't need hers at all, Silverwing knew what she wanted at any point." Lucerys looked back at him, eyes full of wonder. "When you're older, you'll fly on one of your own. Caraxes belonged to my uncle Aemon before his death—"

"But you only claimed 'im 'cuz Cousin Rhaenys had taken Melis when grandmother died," Lucerys finished. Daemon sighed. This child would be a terror within the royal court within a few years.

"Meleys, and yes. She was hatched by my mother, and Rhaenys just took her without asking," Daemon spat. "I might've said yes had she just asked, but I might have also wanted her for myself. I took Caraxes after her father's death because of that," he said. It wasn't entirely true, he'd had his eyes on Caraxes for a long time, but he might not have claimed the dragon without Rhaenys having taken Meleys first. It didn't matter now, though. Caraxes had been Daemon's partner for most of his life.

Soon enough, Daemon began to ask Lucerys what he did. Lucerys used that as a window to explain his hobbies, interests, and likes. He raised an eyebrow with interest when Lucerys mentioned quietly that he worshipped the Old Gods of the First Men instead of the Andal God.

"I'll sing the songs in the Sept, but I will pray before the Gods in the Godswood," he said.

"The Godswood in the Red Keep doesn't have the face-trees," Daemon said after a moment. "You may ask Grandfather for one if you wish. I won't hinder that. Don't cause a scandal with worshiping trees and I couldn't care less." Lucerys nodded. It didn't seem he was expecting anything else. Topics shifted around consistently as the sun reached its apex, and then began to lower in the sky.

Lucerys fell asleep in Daemon's arms as Caraxes continued flying, and the moon rose high in the sky. In the silent night, all he could see was the child in front of him and his dragon, the ground as black as the night sky above. When the sun rose again, Daemon had barely slept, but in the distance, he could see the sunlight reflecting off of the walls of King's Landing.

To make as much noise as possible, Daemon ushered Caraxes to circle the entire city, roaring loudly and certainly waking up almost the entire populace that wasn't already awake. After the second roar, Lucerys jumped awake and rubbed his eyes, yawning loudly.

"Are we here?" he asked after looking down for a few moments. Daemon simply nodded to the boy. A few circles around the Dragonpit, and the Dragon Keepers streamed out. When Caraxes landed, Daemon could hear the whispering upon seeing the child strapped to him.

Within minutes, Caraxes was being directed into the Dragonpit, and Daemon was riding through the city on horseback, Lucerys holding tightly onto him. The smallfolk stared as he rode up the road, until he arrived at the courtyard of the Red Keep. He handed over his reins to a groom before escorting Lucerys to one of the courtyards. There, what members of the royal family could be there stood.

The first one to move was Rhaenyra, who rushed forward and wrapped Lucerys in a hug. Lucerys yelped in pain, and Rhaenyra shifted her arms until the boy no longer hurt while she squeezed the life out of him. Lucerys returned her hug, and Viserys stepped forward next. After giving a smile to Daemon, Viserys motioned for Rhaenyra to let the boy go, and she did so.

"I'm happy to finally meet you, Lucerys," he said, with a large smile, as he reached for the boy's head. As soon as he saw Viserys' hand, Lucerys yelped and held up his arms as if to shield himself, his eyes closed as he trembled, whimpering. Rage boiled in Daemon's gut at this sight. I didn't make Robar's death painful enough, he thought. I should have had Caraxes take his limbs first, cauterizing them shut, then slowly taking each piece until he begged me for death. Even that would have been merciful, if he did this to my son. Viserys as well, looked horrified at Lucerys' reaction. Rhaenyra wrapped her arms around Lucerys again then.

"He won't hurt you, Lucerys. Father is kind, he's not like that cruel man," she said. After a moment, Lucerys opened his eyes again. Daemon quietly put a hand on the boy's shoulder. Lucerys nodded. Changing tactics, Viserys instead knelt and hugged the boy gently. This, at least, didn't frighten the child. Robar made my son weak and frightened.

After he had been introduced to each member of the Royal Family, Lucerys turned back to Daemon.

"Will you please show me around the Red Keep," he asked. "Father?" Daemon felt his heart skip a beat for a moment, before he sighed and shrugged.

"Very well. Come along then, I'll show you where you'll sleep, and let you find the rest," he said. Lucerys whined for a moment, but followed behind Daemon as the rest of the family began to move toward the Great Hall to break their fasts. All except Rhaenyra, who followed along after Lucerys.