Sunrise and Moonlight | Bastard&Usurper Rhaenyra AU | House of the Dragon |

Daemon I

AN: Hello

Hello.

We finally have our first Daemon POV, and the introduction to another important character in the story.

As always, I hope you enjoy.

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110 A.C

The Rogue Prince made his way to the Dragon Pit. He was unconcerned with those around him, mere shadows as he passed them by. They were irrelevant.

There was somewhere he needed to be, and he was in a terrible mood.

He had forced himself to remain calm while informing Alaeyne of his departure, concealing his frustration. His farewells had needed to be said properly. He owed it to her.

He had even left her a parting gift, though it felt woefully inadequate.

There was guilt, an unfamiliar thing to him. For he had hurt Alaeyne by leaving her behind and making his preference for her younger sister manifest. It had hurt the Princess; he knew. And that was something he did not relish. It felt like a heavy stone in his stomach weighing him down.

Nevertheless, there was no regret. His zaldrītsos needed him. And Daemon Targaryen would not keep her waiting.

Some Lord or another, clearly too unaware to notice the Prince's humors, approached him. The Prince did not recognize him and did not hear a word he said. With a loud thud and the strength gained through many battles, he smashed into the wretch crowding his space. The nameless lord tumbled to the ground, wheezing in pain as he did so. He was lucky; had the Prince been in a little less of a hurry, he might have drawn Dark Sister.

Daemon was wroth. Furious that he had been forced to hurt and abandon his niece. Bitter in the knowledge that his little dragon was all alone in the Vale. Any who crossed his path would pay the price.

His eyes darted as the Targaryen noticed scuttling in his periphery. Servants and maids, most likely. Unlike the many lords that clad themselves in self-importance, they had the good sense of scurrying away when they noticed his humors had soured.

But his fury was not the only reason the Prince stalked the halls with an almost murderous intent. Other unfamiliar feelings had begun to creep into him, Fear and the anxiety that came with it. They had nestled themselves on the back of his mind the moment he had heard about Aemma. But, as the hours passed, they began to further tighten thier grip on him.

He became painfully aware of how far away the Vale was. How long the twelve hours of flight would be. And he worried about the possibility that he would be there too late. The image of Rhaenyra alone in the dark incensed him.

"Uncle!" a voice called to him as he entered the Dragon Pit, pulling him out of his stupor.

It was the princeling. His nephew Aegon.

Daemon turned to the smaller Targaryen. Even if, at one and ten, Aegon was approaching manhood, he was still a boy.

A pretty boy, Daemon thought. The Rogue Prince had heard the maid many times gossip about how the princeling was even prettier than a girl. He found himself agreeing with them.

Aegon was small for his age, although he did no longer held the plumpness of a small child. Rather he was lithe and thin. His features took after his Targaryen heritage, sharp yet delicate. Features that were given justice by the dornish tint to his complexion. Unlike his sister, he had inherited the Valyrian silver hue while keeping the dornish curls. Also, unlike his sister, he had not inherited the lilac eyes of their House. Rather he took after his mother, and emerald-green orbs graced his features.