❝ There was a feeling of inevitability when I met you. And our lives were fated to converge like some cosmic dance. And I think I had to break your heart and you had to break mine. ❞
As Cressida Black's lungs ceased to draw breath, Aurelia Martell's...
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Daemon finds himself standing before his brother sooner than he might have liked, head still pounding from all the alcohol he ingested the previous night.
Viserys sits on the Iron Throne, and the mighty look on his face doesn't bode well for their conversation. He was surprised his brother was alone, save for the members of the Kingsguard who were also present in the room.
"You cut the image of the Conqueror, brother."
"Did you say it?" The question resonates against the walls, his brother's voice hollow and angry all at once.
He made to the step towards the throne, only to be deterred by the movement from his brother's White Cloaks. "I don't know what you mean."
"You will address me as 'Your Grace', or I will have my Kingsguard cut out your tongue."
His brother means it, Daemon realizes, and he stands up straighter. Despite the situation, he feels proud. It is the first time in years he sees his brother acting like a Targaryen, like a dragon. Even if the dragonfire is directed at him.
"'The weakest Targaryen' Did you say it?"
Daemon's memories of the night are fuzzy at best. That sounds like something he might have said under the influence of alcohol, but he can't be sure. "We must all deal with our pain in our own ways, Your Grace."
"My family has just been destroyed, but instead of being by my side, or Rhaenyra's, instead of meeting your new niece and nephew, you chose to celebrate my wife's death and my son's illness!" Viserys' voice rises as he speaks. "You chose to spend the night in a brothel, celebrating your own rise with your whores and lickspittles!"
There's a dangerous glint in his brother's eyes, one Daemon has rarely seen, if ever.
His heart sinks. He's the one who spent the previous evening comforting Rhaenyra, holding her until she fell asleep, to give the dornish girl a reprieve. How dare his brother question his commitment to his family when he was the one who couldn't bring himself to look at his daughter during her mother's funeral?
Daemon reins in his temper. He isn't sure it would appease his brother to let him know he spent some time with his daughter, in her rooms and unsupervised. "That's not what happened — Your Grace," he tacks on at the last moment.
"You have no allies in this court but me!" Viserys' voice broke as he yelled. "I have only ever defended you! And, everything I have given you, you have thrown back in my face!"
"You only ever tried to send me away," Daemon says, stepping forward. He would not allow his brother to twist what the crown had done to the two of them. The moment their grandfather passed, their bond snapped. He would not let Viserys forget it. "To the Vale, to the City Watch. Anywhere but by your side, where I always was! You have never asked me to be your Hand!"
