Paint it Black

Awoken

"The fuck am I?" Daemon asked when he woke up and didn't recognize his surroundings nor have a recollection of how he could end up at that place.

Daemon quickly stood up and realized how unfit his clothes were, his pants slid down effortlessly to his ankle, and the hem of his tunic brushed his knee. Daemon walked toward the mirror and cursed again when he saw the dried blood stain on his tunic; he quickly lifted his tunic, checked his body in front of the mirror, and felt relief when he did not find a single injury on his body.

Then a sudden realization hit Daemon like a storm, did he get kidnapped? Oh shit!! There's no other explanation than kidnapping when you wake up at an unknown place without recollecting past events.

Daemon almost left the tent, but his eyes landed on Dark Sister, that lay on the table beside the bed; Daemon blinked in confusion; if Dark Sister was here, his father should be here; if his father had been here, that's mean he was not kidnapped... but it does still not explain his unfit clothes with a dried blood stain on his tunic he wears...

Before Daemon could think further, he heard rumblings outside his tent; he lifted the tent flap and found Caraxes staring at him; Daemon looked around and found the Dragon circling the whole tent with his body as if he were protecting a precious egg.

"Uh... Rystaz Caraxes ?" Daemon greeted the blood wyrm.

Caraxes blow hot steam at Daemon as if telling him to stay inside.

Daemon quickly shut the tent flap; as friendly as it seems to the Targaryen, Dragon only obeys its rider, that's means Daemon cannot anger the Dragon.

Daemon took a deep breath; well, at least Daemon knew his father and Uncle Aemon were there, and he was not kidnapped, which was good.

Daemon decides to open every chest in the tent; he is glad when he finds a chest that seems to belong to his father's squire; the clothes quality is not as good as Daemon usually wears, but it's better than an oversized tunic with dried blood on it.

Next, Daemon found a barrel full of water; he drank some of the water and used some to wash himself from dust and grime.

Daemon waited for two days, but there was still no sign of his father and uncle returning.

The boredom and hunger slowly took the best of Daemon; the last piece of stale bread that was left on the tent was long gone, he knew he won't get any food as long as Caraxes still looming around his tent, and the blood wyrm wouldn't move until uncle Aemon told him so.

Daemon knows he shouldn't go near Caraxes, but he is starving and can no longer spend another minute inside the stuffy tent.

Caraxes opens his eyes again when Daemon opens the tent flap, " I'm going to grab us some food, I won't go too far. " Daemon told the Dragon in the hope he would understand him.

Caraxes narrowed his eyes.

" Oh come on Caraxes, I'm starving. "

Caraxes are unmoved.

Daemon shows the dragon blade that is strapped on his waist, " I'm armed Caraxes, I won't go too far. "

The blood wyrm only gives Daemon a side-eye. Daemon groaned; he didn't care anymore. He pushed himself into a small gap between Caraxes head and body and died smothered by a dragon, still better than starvation.

Daemon ignored the protest growl of Caraxes once he managed to push through the wyrm warm scale. Daemon walked around and found only a few tents still standing on the field; it looked as if half of the army had gone,