Dance of The Dragonwolf

Father and Son

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Daemon Targaryen

' With tear-stained cheeks and a heartfelt plea, Lyanna beseeched Daemon, her voice trembling with emotion, her body sprawled on the bed like a fragile flower in distress. "Promise me, Daemon," she implored, her voice echoing through the room. "I want to be buried there. I'm still of House Stark. I want to be buried where all my ancestors had been buried," As her words hung in the air, a tangible tension filled the room, engulfing Daemon, who sat on the edge of the bed, his head swaying in a solemn refusal.

"I won't have you buried underground, surrounded by darkness. You deserve to be buried where Queen Rhaenys was buried, where Visenya, Valaena, where all the Targaryen Queens had been buried," Daemon protested, not wanting to hear it. As her health deteriorated with each passing day, Lyanna initiated a heartfelt discussion, expressing her heartfelt desire to find solace in the hallowed grounds of Winterfell. It was a place where her mother had found eternal repose, a sacred sanctuary that housed the cherished remains of her ancestors and grandparents, a place resonating with the echoes of her ancestral lineage.

"All the Starks were always buried in Winterfell." As Lyanna attempted to reason with him, her delicate hand firmly grasping his arm, Daemon abruptly shrugged it off, his eyes filled with determination. Daemon's head shook with an intensity that mirrored his unwavering dissent, his every fiber rejecting the notion.

"No," Daemon growled fiercely, his voice resonating with a wave of sudden anger that reverberated through the room and sent chills down Lyanna's spine. However, as his piercing gaze locked onto her, his eyes shifted from fiery rage to a profound sense of remorse that swam within their depths. With a tender touch, his hand delicately traced the contours of Lyanna's cheek, a gesture that spoke volumes about the love that still lingered beneath his tempestuous exterior.

And then, Daemon's lips pressed against Lyanna's soft skin, leaving a tender kiss upon her cheek. The warmth of his touch lingered, a bittersweet reminder of the passion that once consumed them.

He hated that she was discussing something he never wished to discuss, but he knew they needed to, and the thought of her burying far away in the North didn't sit well with him. Daemon didn't want that. He wanted her to be buried in Dragonstone, where he could visit her as many times as he wanted.

As their fingers intertwined, Lyanna gently cupped Daemon's chin, guiding his gaze towards her own earnest eyes. The touch of her delicate hand and the tenderness in her voice revealed the depth of her plea. A solitary tear cascaded down Lyanna's cheek, glistening like a diamond in the moonlight, as she beseeched him, her voice filled with a mixture of vulnerability and determination. "Daemon, Promise me," she whispered, her words hanging in the air like a fragile thread. There was a momentary pause, a pregnant silence that held their breaths captive, as Daemon's mouth began to form a response. Yet, before the words could escape his lips, he hesitated, sealing his mouth shut. '