We Are Dragons (Daemon Targaryen)

Chapter One

14 Years Later

/^\ Fourteen Years Later /^\

One of my favorite things to do to pass the time in the droll days in the Red Keep was to watch my uncle practice his swordsmanship in the courtyard.

There wasn't much else to do, if I was to escape my Septa chaining me to a stool and forcing me to hunch over in some dark room, making me work on needlework.

As if my needlework was going to contribute to the Crown.

In the Red Keep, servants ensured that everything smelled of fresh linen and flowers, but there was a stench combating their work. The stench of pig shit and death that hovered over King's Landing like a thick cloud.

Despite being the capital of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, it was a mess. A complete disaster, an example of the hidden failures of the Crown that no one would challenge or address.

Crime ran rampant, the city was dead during the day, and at night, all manners of darkness mingled with the parties filled with debauchery.

I wasn't allowed to leave the Red Keep without a group of the City Watch and at least two men of the Kingsguard, and I was only allowed to ride in the carriage. I hated that carriage, it was ridiculous. It was more uncomfortable than horseback, which would at least allow a breath of fresh air.

Not that you would find any fresh air in King's Landing.

Lost in my thoughts, I snapped back to attention when I hear faint applause below me. I peered over from my position on one of the walls, seeing that my silver-haired uncle had knocked his training partner on his back.

He flipped his sword, and when he turned, I caught a smug look on his face. I needed only his side profile to see that the Rogue Prince was more than satisfied with his work.

A few ladies fawned over him and some servants and members of the court complimented my uncle as he walked away from the circle, without helping his partner to his feet.

I loved my uncle, but he had terrible manners, and he wasn't a very good sport.

Daemon approached the bench where his flask of water was waiting, putting his sword in his sheath and brushing his long hair out of his face. He looked up and spotted me, smiling.

"And what does my little shadow think of my skills?" Daemon called up in our tongue, High Valyrian. I smiled brightly, leaning over the stone wall that separated me from a short fall.

"If you keep fighting in tournaments, by the time a real war comes around, everyone will already know your weaknesses and will beat you." I responded, my tone slightly teasing, but I was serious. Daemon tilted his head to the side with a small shake and made a 'tsk' sound.

"I have no weaknesses." He responded with a smug smile.

"Everyone has a weakness, Uncle. You can turn it into a strength if you accept it." I replied, my tone slightly sing-song as my grin widened. He arched an eyebrow up at me before he grinned too.

"Hurry up, before I go without you." He said with a chuckle, turning and walking away.

/^\                                                            /^\

Daemon trailed behind me as I skipped across the rolling fields outside of the city, my riding boots burying themselves in the rich, green grass that grew at the edge of the peninsula the city was seated upon.