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THE THRONE ROOM WAS DIM, flickering torches casting shadows on the walls. The Iron Throne loomed in the center, an imposing and twisted structure of swords. Cyrenna Hightower walked with quiet purpose through the empty hall, her heart pounding with anticipation.
She had received word that Daemon had returned to King's Landing — her being the first to know. She'd lost track of how long he'd been gone, in and out as he pleased.
Setting her eyes on his figure, she breathed, her voice a mix of relief and disbelief, "Daemon."
Daemon Targaryen looked down, a roguish grin spreading across his face as he watched her walk closer, "Cyrenna."
She hurried up the steps to the throne, her eyes never leaving his. As she met the steps, the girl crossed her arms, "It's a throne fit for a king, is it not?"
"Indeed," He took pleasure in her sweet words, clearly blinded by the sight of her once more. Cyrenna raised her brows, "Might you move and make way for that king then, needn't be any blood spilled."
A smirk flushed across Daemon's face, "I must disagree then, I do believe I'm quite comfortable here."
"A king should never sit easy," Cyrenna nodded, only then did Daemon stand to reach her; hearing the words of Aegon the Conqueror from the girl.
"I brought you something," Daemon said, feeling justified in his rare, outward expression of fondness to her. She pretended to be unamused, though the sight of a shining red jewel tempted her greatly.
"You haven't been in court for an age and you lure me with a necklace?" Cyrenna lifted her eyes to catch his, "You do know me quite well."
"Do you know what it is?" He asked with a strong stare. Truthfully, the first glance told her nothing. But the further look and a cold touch was just enough, "Valyrian steel. Just like Dark Sister."
"Turn around," Daemon said, pleased.
"I cannot accept," Cyrenna shook her head, "A Hightower walking around with Valyrian steel? I won't be called a thief nor will I be called your whore."
Daemon softly reached toward her, his hand grazing across her neck as his thumb brushed over her chin, "The thought of returning to this dreadfully boring court turned to dust thinking of you."
"It has been quite long," Her face melted into his palms, "I almost thought you-"
"I always come back," Daemon replied, though the sweetness of their conversation was far too strong for him, the man coughing up a laugh, "How could I not return for a tournament in my honor?"
"For the King's heir," Cyrenna pulled away too, the girl watching as he clutched the Valyrian steel necklace between his fingers. He nodded, "Just as I said."
