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Young Daemon wakes from a terrible dream where an ancestor explained exactly how his impetuous and violent nature damaged everyone he loved. An emotionally damaged Daemon decides he has to change, and if that means he must marry an ugly woman, he will close his eyes and comply. But he might find that sometimes love that is slow to grow can make the strongest bonds.
Daemon landed Caraxes just outside the gates of Runestone. The place wasn’t impressive. The castle was built in the most primitive of styles, and Daemon would have dismissed it had his ancestor not warned him to stop making judgments before analyzing the situation. Her accusations had struck so deeply because Daemon knew they were true.
His father said he was six and ten, and he was allowed to be impetuous, but the dream made it clear that he never grew more careful. A little boy on blood-stained sheets. Daemon would never forgive himself for the agony on that little boy’s mother’s face. Did he truly loathe someone of the blood so much as to set up that horror or had he purchased the assassin’s hand not understanding what his coin would buy?
Daemon did not know which was worse, but he was determined to avoid that future. As he walked up to the castle, he saw the runes carved on the bronze gate and the heavy timbers and impressive towers. They had respect for magic here. If the dream was to be believed, this woman’s magic would strengthen that of his children.
A well-dressed servant hurried to meet him before the gates. “My prince. We did not expect you.”
“Given I sent no raven, I would not expect you to. I came to see the Lady Rhea. Is she available?”
The servant stammered without providing an answer, and Daemon studied him, unsure how to address such a mute fool. It was difficult to be calm and analytical when the world was full of halfwits like this.
“My prince.” A woman stepped out of the castle and spoke loudly. She wore riding britches and had shoulder-length hair pulled back in a style very similar to Daemon’s. The overall impression was rather manish, even if she had larger breasts than Aemma. She was older than Aemma too. In the vision of Valyria, Daemon had seen many people with brown or red hair, so he was struggling to overcome his prejudice, but he was still disappointed that she didn’t have light hair.
When he thought of his current family, every member had the Targaryen hair–either white or blond. Well, except Rhaenys who never appeared in King’s Landing. But in his vision, he appeared to love the Strong boys, and they all looked like this woman–curling brown hair, pug noses, round faces.
Ugly pug noses.
He would need to get used to it. He offered her a smile and didn’t comment on her lack of courtly manners. To hell with not bowing, she didn’t even bother lowering her gaze for even a moment. “Am I addressing Lady Rhea?” Daemon schooled his features so no disappointment would show if she said she was.
“Aye,” she agreed. “I had not expected you, Prince Daemon.” The servants fell back to allow her to walk to him. There was no timidity in her gait and she moved like a horsewoman. If he had a choice of her or Gael, he could admit his father had a point about Rhea being the better match. She didn’t look like she would faint if he gave her his undivided attention, and that was an improvement over Gael. “What can Runestone do for the royal family?”
The question surprised him. Perhaps she did not value meeting as much as he did. A proper woman would marry whoever her father chose, but Daemon was disappointed to find Lady Rhea proper in this way. He had hoped she had some fire to her. “I thought it wise we speak before we meet in the sept. I apologize if my attention is unwanted.”
“Sept?” Lady Rhea had gone pale.
A terrible thought occurred to Daemon. Seven hells. He should not have rushed here. He should have talked to his father about his decision to introduce himself to his betrothed. He hadn’t wanted to first meet her in the sept as they had met in that terrible dream. “I found out only this morning when Queen Alyssanne announced our…” Daemon cleaned his throat… “betrothal.”
She took a step backward. “Betrothal?” She sounded furious, and the nearest servants exchanged concerned expressions.
Daemon blew out a breath. “You didn’t know. I should not have rushed here to meet you, but I am not a patient man. I fear I often rush in and make difficult situations worse. I apologize, my lady.” In his dream, she was sneering and contemptuous, but here she blinked and cleared her face of all emotion.
“I thank you for telling me, Prince Daemon. I had not known negotiations were underway.” She was rattled.
“If it makes you feel better, I didn’t either. I found out over breakfast, and then my brother made unfortunate comments about the agreement that our first son would carry the Royce name. I think that is why I wanted to leave King’s Landing. I am rather impetuous and I fear I would have told Viserys exactly what I thought of him.” Daemon needed to confess to his worst flaws to negate the chance she could turn them into weapons. He knew he lacked patience, but if he said it first, she could not use that against him.
“I see.” She was clearly struggling to compose herself. “Please. Come in.” She turned and headed back into Runestone. As much as Daemon flaunted royal protocol himself, he had to bite down on an urge to correct the woman. She was either clueless or trying to insult him. This was not the path to love, but he was more in need of allies than love. In the dream, it seemed that he and Rhaenyra shared love, although the dream did not allow him to feel it. Still, he had seen her turn against him over and over. She called for his head. If love led to such excesses, he should avoid it if he hoped to save dragons.
Daemon followed Rhea down a well maintained path and past a training yard. Men were running drills and Daemon perked up at the sight. Several had talent, and Daemon had an itch to test his skills against theirs.
Later. He was on a mission right now. He could not allow the future to happen, and if he couldn’t build a home for himself here, he was going to have to find a place in Essos and actually steal his family’s dragons instead of quietly luring them to a more secluded part of the seven kingdoms before claiming he had no idea why they had changed their nesting grounds. After all, a shift of nesting sites was not impossible. Stealing dragons and hiding them in Essos would be significantly more difficult.
He followed her up a wide stair to a solar that overlooked the front of the castle where Caraxes watched knights pass on horses. Daemon imagined Caraxes was amused at how uncomfortable the Valemen were having to ride past a dragon large enough to eat them.
“Please. Sit. Shall I call for wine?”
“Unless you would like something stronger given the unpleasant news I dropped on you with no warning.” Daemon turned his back on the window and watched the woman. This was the woman who had spread tales of his inability to lie with a woman in order to get revenge. He would not trifle with her, but if she humiliated him again, he would not stand for it. This time, he would ensure that he was seen as the victim, and if she let her serpent’s tongue lash him, the royal family would demand recompense.
Daemon had made that difficult in the dream by constantly referring to the Vale as the home of sheep who were more attractive than the women.
“The news is not unpleasant,” Rhea said. “Exactly.”
Daemon tilted his head and considered how to handle this. He needed to share some honesty with her so she would not develop any fantasy that he would be an easy husband. He had no hope for love, but he could plan for trust. “It is certainly not pleasant news. I am younger than you, impetuous, and without any skills in running a castle. I imagine you have other men you have considered before me.”
“My prince….”
Daemon waved his hand. “Call me Daemon. Should we have a chaperone in here?”
“Should I fear for my safety?”
Daemon blinked. “Of course not!” his voice rose in anger.
“I apologize,” Rhea hurried to say. “You were honest, so I will say I am blunt and have little patience for humans in general and none for the ridiculous rituals of royalty.” She hesitated before adding, “No doubt you see why I would be an inappropriate bride.”
“Actually, I see why my grandmother thought we might get along. I once crawled under a table to escape a state dinner, and I would rather be training in the yard with common knights than sitting under the instruction of a maester. I love to learn about topics that interest me, but few topics do. Mostly I just want to learn about Valyria.”
Rhea snorted. “So we would be guaranteed to have hellions as children.”
That amused Daemon. “I fear so. No doubt my grandmother entertains herself at the thought of forcing me to raise children as rebellious as I was.” Queen Alysanne was getting her revenge for every horrid thing Daemon had done in the Red Keep.
“And my father likely has the same thoughts.” She settled into the chair behind the desk and studied Daemon. “Can I be honest and trust you to not share my thoughts outside this room?”
Daemon wanted to point out that if one of them was likely to spread rumors, it was not him. Any words Daemon had were said to a person’s face, but Rhea had dripped poison into hundreds of ears. But that future didn’t exist. “Of course. If we are to live together, I would rather we have a respectful relationship. Just because we did not choose each other does not mean we cannot learn to honor each other.”
She stared at him for a time as though judging his words before she said, “I will not be replaced as the stewart of Runestone. These are my people and this is my land. No Targaryen can come in here and order my people around as though they owe their allegiance to him.” She clenched her jaw and clearly expected a fight.
“I accept that,” Daemon said. “I have little patience for ruling, and I would not know where to start.” In truth, Daemon had always thought he would be a better king than Viserys, and after seeing the future, he still believed that. He just didn’t think that meant he would be a good king.
A little boy on blood-stained sheets.
“That said,” he continued, “I will be respected by the servants and I will be obeyed without delay whether I am calling for hot water for a bath or for my armor to be polished. My biggest concern is that I am easily bored. There are only so many hours in a day I can train, and what else is there for a man to do?”
She snorted. “We have never found a dearth of work for a knight willing to lend his sword to defend the realm. If you and your great beast are willing to protect our people, fall always brings attacks from the mountain clans.”
“Caraxes is not a beast,” Daemon said, a hint of warning in his voice. “A dragon is not a pet. Not a horse or a beast. They have minds of their own and they choose to be partners with a rider. If I ride against the mountain clans, Caraxes will happily take up that battle because he trusts me. However, my grandfather had a point when Queen Alysanne suggested he ride against the mountain clans. A dragon would burn every sheep and tree in the Vale before burning out those brigands. That said, I will have my destriers and coursers brought up with my possessions so I can ride with your knights and lend my sword to that battle.”
They stared at each other in silence, their ultimatums made. Daemon waited for Rhea to end the stand off, but it took far longer than he anticipated. “I am terrible at understanding what another needs or wants. A person must be direct or I am likely to misunderstand, she warned.
“I have no patience and I rush into situations without understanding the delicacy, a flaw I proved by rushing up here to meet you before you even learned we were betrothed.”
She sighed. “I tend to insult others. Sometimes I do not even realize I’ve done it.”
“I will rail and shout and rage just because I need to work off my energy. I would never strike a woman or child, but sometimes I get so frustrated I can’t control my volume.”
Rhea chuckled. “So, they took the two defective heirs and put them together?”
“Not true,” Daemon said. “Prince Baelon is heir and Viserys is the heir to the heir. I am a branch that is dangling off the bottom of the tree, so it is one defective heir and one defective, whatever I am.” He tried to make himself sound amused, but he suspected his words were far more bitter than he had intended.
Maybe that explained why Lady Rhea’s next words were so tentative. “A prince is ranked higher than a lady. And I’m not even a Lady Paramount. You could speak to them about marrying Lady Jeyne if you are willing to have a son take the name of his mother. She will have trouble finding a consort who will not put his own blood and name on the weirwood throne.”
Daemon sneered. “I was not given a choice as to the name of my first born, nor was I given a choice about the fact that my children will not ride dragons. I will fight the second when the time comes, and you will have to convince me to accept a Royce son instead of waiting until my brother takes the throne and then threatening or bribing him into reversing the rule. If it comes to it, we could make a daughter the heir and marry her to a Royce cousin so the Royce name continued to rule. And as for Lady Jeyne, I would abandon Westeros and take up a profession as a sellsword before I would marry a bloodless Andal. They have burned the magic out of their veins, and marrying one would make for weak children.”
Daemon wondered if it truly was her Andal blood that made Aemma weak. Then again, her mother Daella was weak even without Andal blood, and Aemma had been bedded so young that her body lacked the strength of an adult woman. There were many reasons for her frailty. Daemon just hoped his father would get involved and save her from another early death.
“I follow the Seven as well, Prince Daemon,” Lady Rhea said.
“But you have the blood of the First Men. Your family were the Bronze kings, were they not?”
“They were,” she said slowly, as if not understanding why he would choose her over Jeyne Arryn.
“The First Men have magic–greenseers and wargs. The Andals have a habit of burning any woods witch that appears in their bloodlines. I will not have the magic in my blood diluted by Andals. I would rather marry a Rhoynar from Dorne with their water magics than an Andal.”
“My prince, that is not a common view, and many would take offense on behalf of Lady Jeyne.” She spoke slowly as though she were picking her way across thin ice, unsure when it might crack.
“I am not a common man, and I am speaking to the woman who will be my lady wife. I would not say this to any other than you or my father, and he has already heard my reasons for seeing you as a far better option than Lady Jeyne. I have not changed my mind now that we have met.”
Her mouth opened and closed several times, but she said nothing. Daemon avoided smirking. He did know how to make himself beloved, even by a woman such as Rhea Royce. In his dream, he had simply never tried to make their relationship better.
Daemon continued, “If you are still as angry about not being consulted as I was at breakfast, I can fly you to the Eyrie so you can yell at your father,” he offered. Rhea seemed the sort to appreciate a man who gave her the freedom to voice her objections. Daemon had never minded a woman with strong views. Laena and Rhenerya had both proved that.
“Did you yell at yours?”
“I told him how upset I was at the public announcement and the lack of any discussion, and he calmed me by promising to employ guilt to get Queen Alysanne to offer costly gifts to Runestone in order to purchase my forgiveness.”
She didn’t look impressed by that, but Daemon needed Runestone strong enough to stand up against riders in green or black who would destroy dragons, and by doing so, condemn Westeros to eternal winter and doom him to die in the God’s eye, a kinslayer twice over.
A little boy on blood-stained sheets.
“I am aggravated, and my father deserves to hear my thoughts,” she said slowly.
“And I would like to introduce you to the joy of riding on a dragon. Caraxes should know my future lady wife, and you look to be a woman who would take well to the saddle.”
She blushed, and touched one of her vanbraces. “I apologize for not being appropriately dressed for a royal visit.”
Daemon snorted. “I would rather have a wife with a chest full of riding leathers than one who debates the quality of silk from various vendors as some at court do. My words were meant as a complement. Many at court thought I would marry my Aunt Gael, but she trembles at the sight of a dragon. How can I respect a woman who cannot bear the sight of my dragon and refuses to sit in a saddle? Caraxes is part of me. Targaryens share our souls with our dragons.”
She gave him a perturbed look. “Your words make me think I do not want my children to ride dragons.”
“You’ll change your mind soon enough. One ride on Caraxes and you’ll regret you cannot have a dragon of your own. You’ll beg for more rides, and we’ll have to come up with excuses to fly across the continent and even to Essos.” Daemon grinned. He just knew that Caraxes would be a shared passion. Lady Rhea looked the sort to prefer a dragon to jewels or silks. And if she liked to travel, he had more reason to escape the boredom of the Vale.
She looked tempted, but then something changed and her expression grew firm. “I have meetings today to review tax rolls, and the collector must leave by morning. Can we put off a visit to the Eyrie until tomorrow?”
Daemon hadn’t planned to be gone from the Red Keep overnight. He didn’t have a change of clothing and his riding leathers picked up strong smells from Caraxes that others often took offense to. Daemon didn’t even notice dragon musk anymore, but he didn’t want to run around the seven kingdoms stinking like a commoner with no access to soap. But he could not guarantee a second escape on the morrow, not once his family discovered he had left without permission.
“If your servants can find appropriate clothes for me tomorrow and if your master-at-arms will show me the duties of your knights, I can delay our visit by a day.” It would give Daemon a chance to train with the Vale men, and possibly even drink with them. If they had any short patrols, he could offer to go out and prove he planned to be one of them. It would help him start to create a place for himself.
There was a way forward for this relationship, and Daemon would find it. He would build his own kingdom here in the mountains, with a hidden volcano where dragons could take shelter and men who would stand with him against the coming war. He would have a dozen strong children and an awkward wife with an ugly nose and powerful magic in her blood.
At least he assumed she had power. He had to find an excuse to visit Winterfell. The warden of the North would be able to reveal just how much of the dream had been true and how much had been potent wine. He feared what he would find in the ancient archives of Winterfell, but he was not going to be a fool and live by prophecy alone.
He needed evidence, and Lord Rickon possessed it.
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Nice update and good honest talk.
I am of the opinion that a lot can get solved if only people talked.
Daemon recognizing his failings and getting them out of the way fast
He might be a bit of a sociopath, but there is nothing he would not do for his family or for the dragons. At least that’s how I see him.
Oh, gosh, I can’t wait for Rhea to ride Caraxes!! I adore my bowlegged red wyrm!
Say, you ever notice that Daemon walks bowlegged like Caraxes? Lol!
I did not notice that, but it shows you how much time he spends on his dragon