For a century, the Targaryens held sway over the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros: from the arid deserts of Dorne to the icy expanses of the North, from the verdant plains of the Reach to the rugged coasts of the Stormlands. Yet, amidst the splendor of th...
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»That's our chance,« the king told his wife a story about himself and Daemon when they were younger. He always did that when the two of them were together at gatherings, as if he had nothing better to talk about. Daemon looked around; they were in the small front garden of the Red Keep, where only the highest and richest from King's Landing were allowed entry. All idiots who only wanted to catch up on the latest gossip and drink free wine. For him, no one mattered here. Occasionally, people he didn't even know the name of would come by to congratulate him on his victory, but hardly any of them meant it. They didn't know life outside the capital and didn't understand what he had done for the realm.
»So Daemon set off into the distance to win tournaments and make our mother even prouder,« Daemon's attention was drawn back to his brother, who placed his hand on his shoulder.
»You exaggerate,« he chuckled, although it wasn't sincere. He was standing right next to that whore queen, who, as fate would have it, must naturally be Otto Hightower's spawn. That bastard of a man had served as Jaehaerys's Hand back then and now served his brother, who already had trouble forming his own opinions.
»No, no, no, no,« Viserys warned, pointing a finger at Daemon. »I will not have this debate again. You were always Mother's favorite.« Whether it was true or not, Daemon couldn't really judge, because after all, Viserys was almost twenty years older than him and therefore remembered less of his childhood. Daemon tried to ignore the references to his mother, who had passed away quite early. Viserys had more time with her than he did.
»Oh,« Queen Alicent exclaimed with a smirk.
»No, that's no secret,« he explained to her, turning to face her. Daemon was sure she must have heard these stories dozens of times already and was only reacting kindly to show respect to the king. She was his wife, after all, and that's how it was supposed to be.
»It's true. Our mother had no time for customs, traditions, or rules, and unfortunately, I was never much of a warrior.« No, he wasn't, indeed. Daemon could vividly remember having to save him from an assassin once; he was only half his size back then. They called him 'Viserys the Peaceful,' a name that wouldn't be remembered centuries later.
Suddenly, another pair of lilac eyes approached the three of them, unmistakably belonging to his niece Rhaenyra. She wore a bright dress that matched her silver hair. Daemon was surprised that she even joined them, considering Alicent was there. Everyone knew they used to be best friends, but ever since the green whore was by Viserys's side, that connection was no more.
»I congratulate you on your victory,« Rhaenyra interjected into the conversation, addressing Daemon. Alicent and Viserys looked less than pleased that his niece was now standing there and talking to him. After all, the two of them had always gotten along quite well.
»Thank you, Princess,« Daemon expressed gratitude, perhaps genuinely for the first time that day.
»Perhaps Prince Daemon wishes a tour of the Pillared Hall. He hasn't seen the new tapestries yet, some from Norvos and Qohor,» Alicent quickly diverted attention away from Rhaenyra, which made Viserys burst into laughter, while Daemon wondered since when they were trading such things with the Free Cities in Essos.
