My Darling: Daemon Targaryen

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Marcella sat on the balcony of her room as Prim braided her hair quietly, humming a soft tune, while Marcella fed her now-eight-month-old son.

"He is growing quickly." Prim commented, making Marcella pout as she looked at her little Baelon, who was indeed growing quickly.

"I know I do not like it. I want him to stay little forever." Marcella drank softly, making Prim giggle.

"All babies grow into princesses, no matter how badly we don't wish for them to," Prim stated before the door opened, showing Grace.

"Hi Princess, you have been called to the throne room by the king. Prince Daemon has returned as well as Princess Rhaenyra," Grace explained.

"Daemon has come home," Marcella repeated, getting up quickly as Grace nodded gently, taking Baelon.

"Go, I have the little prince," she assured her princess before cooing at the little prince.

"Thank you, Grace," Marcella said quickly, leaving the room and rushing through the halls. Derek nor Caleb said anything, both knowing why he was in a rush as she practically ran up the stairs to the throne room.

"Princess," Ser Laine said, bowing to her, making her smile and greet him before Derek grabbed her arm, stopping her from stepping forward.

"What?" she asked.

"Your hair, princess," he stated, fixing it as she stood still.

"Must have been messed up as you sprinted across the castle," Caleb teased before Laine opened the throne room doors, which revealed the room to be filled with over a hundred people waiting to see the rouge prince return.

"Princess Marcella Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone Heir to the Iron Throne, The Realms Darling," Ser Caleb announced loudly as she stepped down the steps, her two guards following closely behind.

Both Alicent and Rhaenyra's faces soured when they took notice that everyone went silent and bowed to her as she walked by, elegantly sending everyone a smile.

"Your Grace," Marcella stated, giving her father a deep bow before walking to the edge of the stairs, standing off to the side, her fingers laced together as she stood still, watching the doors that opened moments later.

"Prince Daemon Targaryen," the knight announced as the Rouge Prince walked into the throne room. He walked to his brother and the throne with confidence. The four kings guards unsheathed their swords, ready to defend their king and the heir as he stepped closer.

Daemon smirked as he walked closer to one of the swords, looking down at it as it poked at his chest, looking at the knight again.

"Put your swords away," Marcella demanded of the knights, who immediately listened, stepping back to their places and putting their swords away, making Daemon smirk at how quickly they listened.

Daemon grabbed the crown of wood off his head, throwing it to the ground in front of the steps.

"Add it to your chair," he offered. The sound of the crown clattering against the floor rang throughout the room as the crowd whispered with anticipation, wondering what the king would do as the prince kneeled down.

"You wear a crown," Viserys noted. "Do you also call yourself king?" He asked, sneering down at his brother.

"Once we smashed the Triarchy, they named me King of the Narrow Sea," Daemon replied, making the crowd burst out in whispers again at the prince's words.

"But I know that there is only one true king, your grace," he assured his brother.

"My crown and the Step Stones are yours."