VENDETTA | hotd

o.

Daemon Targaryen was not a patient man. His brother had often told him that it was one of his greatest faults, but Daemon didn't agree. Dragon fire rushed through his veins,  he didn't need to express caution like his brother and the men who sat on his council, sitting on their asses and making no true difference. Daemon was made to act, which made the actions of the night so difficult for him. 

It was the middle of the night, and yet Flea Bottom thrummed with life. Daemon had turned away the fifth whore that had approached him before he recognized a familiar cloaked figure weaving through the throngs of people, moving steadily toward him.

"It took you long enough," he muttered when his spy finally stopped beside him, earning a soft chuckle from the hooded figure. "I see that your guard dog hasn't graced us with his presence tonight."

"He was otherwise occupied," she replied as she turned toward the alley behind them. "Come, we have plenty to discuss."

Daemon normally wouldn't have appreciated being ordered around, but his curiosity she always had a way of keeping his interest piqued. So he followed her, looking over his shoulder as she unlocked a decrepit looking door and slipping through the entrance after her. 

His spy locked the door behind them and immediately began lighting candles that circled the room, giving the shabby kitchen a haunting light to it. Only when she was positive that they could see each other did the girl remove her cloak, revealing her face to him.

He knew that it was her, yet it always somehow startled him to see Vedette Baratheon staring up at him with those cold blue eyes that seemed to cut deep into his soul. He had known the girl since she was two and ten, sent by her father to be a companion to Helaena. Back then, she always had a smile on her face, had given him her sincerest condolences and had sat with his daughters when Laena had died. He could scarcely find a hint of that girl in front of him now. She was beautiful, he had always known she would grow to become a great beauty. He just never knew how dangerous that beauty would be.

"How are you feeling?" he surprised himself with the question, but Vedette merely looked amused.

"Well enough to know that you had reason to be worried, Daemon."

The use of his first name should have been an outrage, a great disrespect. He was shocked the first time she'd referred to him by it, but he was used to it by now. It was her way of putting them on equal footing, reiterating silently that they were equals.

He focused instead on the crease between her eyebrows and pursed his lips. "Viserys?"

"Your brother... the king is growing more ill by the day," Vedette told him. "Some days he seems fine and act like himself, but those days... they're far and few between. He is in great pain, Daemon, and Otto and Alicent only ply him with more milk of the poppy to keep him down."

"How much?"

Vedette's mouth curved slightly, a mix between a smirk and sneer. "Less than they know. I do my best to get to his medicine before they administer it to him, add water to it to dilute the effects. That way, they still believe they have the upper hand, but I can completely replace it if the need ever comes."

It was smart, Daemon had to admit. Vedette always had been frighteningly clever. "And what have the vipers been up to, since last we spoke?"

Vedette sighed heavily, reaching a hand down her bodice and pulling out a set of papers that she held out to him. "Scrambling for as much power as they can, as far as I can tell. These are some of Otto's private correspondence. He seems quite chatty lately."