Dream Of Winter | C. Stark & H. Targaryen

Gone With The Wind

Daemon POV

The Rogue Prince had to bear witness to a never ending swarm of mediocre mummers at the farce they called a trial.

And that's after spending two nights imprisoned by those northern cultists. He can't prove what they did to him. They left no discernable markings on his flesh. But he knows what he saw in captivity.

There is no feasible explanation on to why he dreamt about each and everyone of them gifting him with a more humiliating death method than the last.

Even Caraxes starred in that one-eyed copyact with a ship on his shoulder's creation. Why does he try so hard to emulate his betters. Daemon is a one in a lifetime prodigy. Both in sword and on dragonback. His skill set is unmatched in the Seven Kingdoms.

Thus, their strange rituals didn't work on his psyche as they hoped it would. He proved it to them as he glared defiantly in the face of that Stark puppet.

He overestimated his intelligence. He was too cunt struck to realize his eminent death. Rhaenyra had whispered in his ear that she met with Viserys the previous night. His brother was a poor sick fool. But he had to give him credit when it's due. His daughter has asked for his help. So he'll rush to her aid. Even at the cost of his own life.

Perhaps that's the ideal outcome. End this ridiculous spectacle. And drop dead. Daemon will get word to his buddies at the gold cloaks and overrun the Hightower guards before dawn break. All the Green heads will be rounded up on spikes, adorning the city gates.

Ah. It seems there's no need for his brother to attend after all. Corlys will dismiss the sad power grab and restore the status quo.

Brilliant.

Or not.

Every single word the Sea Snake spat finally lived up to his name. A viper masquerading as a dragon.

He named him a friend. At the very least, a rational man. Capable of putting down his own hubris to achieve greatness.

Baela and Rhaena were Laena's own flesh and blood. The last of Corlys' line. He had ambitions of marrying his sons with Rhaenyra to his daughters. Placing both Targaryen and Velaryon blood on the two most powerful seats in the Realm.

Such plans were delayed by his niece's womb not swelling with child since their marriage. Five years later, it's still a blistering wound. How could someone like Viserys father three sons - subpar as they are- whilst he, the weilder of Dark Sister and keeper of the true Valyrian teachings, remain without a legitimate heir.

No matter. His step-sons could live as placeholders until he sires a male babe. But in no uncertain terms will he allow them to go through with the marriage or conceive some child of diluted blood.

All common sense seemed to evaporate the second the Hightowers promise the weaklings fame and glory. A honey trap that to ensnare them before the spider springs out to taste its prey.

It's a shame House Velaryon backed the wrong horse. Treachery demands swift unyielding retribution. And he'll be the one who doles out justice after being exonerated.

Where is his brother anyhow? This is taking too long. Rhaenyra directs a worried glance at him. Her sons are now sneering at him, in confused misplaced anger.

So what? He killed the sweet fool they thought was their father.

Did they think he could win a war for them if the Greens launched a coup? Daemon is the only one capable of protecting their mother's crown. A few regrettable pawns have to be sacrificed to achieve that goal.