We Are Dragons (Daemon Targaryen)

Chapter Twelve

The rest of the party disappeared, but I could not leave the Godswood. I found myself trapped in my steps, watching Daemon.

He stood under the Godswood, his head leaned back as he soaked in the sun. I stared at him for a long moment, admiring him. Daemon was handsome. The new haircut benefited him.

"You seemed content on Dragonstone." I finally spoke up, and he let out a soft sigh, turning to face me as I approached him, my hands clasped behind my back. "You seemed to revel in your war. Why did you come back?" I asked him.

His violet eyes examined my face, before they trailed down my neck, landing on the Valyrian steel necklace I wore. His lips quirked up in a small smile.

He did not answer me though, and I smirked. "There is surely more to your return than simply taunting the King."

"You do enough of that yourself, I've heard." He replied, and our gazes locked.

"He took everything from me. Every day he disrespects me, I return the favor." I replied with a shrug.

"You are too bold."

"You're still alive. At least I apologize when I'm wrong." I pointed out, and he glanced away before returning his gaze to me. "You've been gone for years. You left without a word. Why return with all of this ceremony now?" I asked.

He stepped forward, touching the necklace. I shivered when I felt his fingers brush my skin. "So?" I asked. "What do you want?"

"Only the comforts of home." Daemon replied softly, walking around me and heading towards the patio, where tables of food and wine were laid out. I scoffed loudly, turning around and making my way over to him.

"I'd not thought you particularly comfortable in this home." I remarked as he paused to pop a grape in his mouth before moving around the table and sitting on one of the benches against the wall. He put his foot up on the table, relaxing.

"Though I do suppose you seem changed by your adventures. More mature, perhaps." I suggested, observing him as he stared up at me.

"You've matured yourself these last four years, Princess. You're one and twenty now. You'll get used to the attention." He said, offering me a wine goblet. I took the goblet and took a large gulp. "For instance, your tolerance for wine." His tone was that of displeasure. I watched a few strands of hair hang over his face, resisting the urge to reach down and caress his cheek, tucking the hair back.

"The attention I can endure." I remarked. "It's the rest I could do without. Viserys seems content to sell Nyra off to whichever lord has the biggest castle." I rolled my eyes.

"There are worse things to be sold for." He said with a small smile.

"I know." I replied solemnly, and his jaw clenched. I stood facing him, leaning against the table, his leg brushing my hip.

"Marriage is only a political arrangement. Once you are wed, you can do as you like." He told me.

"For men, marriage might be a political arrangement. For women, it would be like a death sentence." I corrected.

"Would that it were, I would have been rid of my Bronze Btich ages ago." Daemon scoffed, and I reached forward, punching his shoulder. "Aye!" He complained.

"I happen to admire your wife." I said scoldingly, and he stared up at me in horror.

"No."

"She's big and strong. Honorable." I told him, and he rolled his eyes, making a noise of disagreement. I grabbed his chin, making him look at me. "She's a bitch to you because you're an asshole, and you deserve it." I said firmly, letting him go, before looking over my shoulder to stare at the weir tree. "All I've ever wanted is to be like her. Untouchable. So that the world cannot hurt me." I said softly. "Your wife has been fortunate." Daemon chuckled. "You have not put a child in her."