Daemon Targaryen ♡

The light of dusk filtered through the stained-glass windows of the Red Keep, tinging the corridor red as Daemon walked—boots clattering on the marble, dark cloak trailing like a living shadow behind him.

The guards straightened as he passed, some swallowing hard. He didn't look at any of them. He didn't need to. His name was warning enough.

As soon as he pushed open the doors of the hall, the air seemed to change. A tense silence fell over the few courtiers present. Daemon stopped in the threshold, a half-smile of insolence appearing at the corner of his mouth.

"Do you miss me?" he asked, his voice laden with that almost gentle mockery that only he could make sound dangerous.

Viserys raised his eyes from the throne. Between anger and relief, between brother and king.
"Daemon…" she began, but couldn't find the right words. She never could.

Daemon tilted his head slightly, studying his brother as if time had passed only for others.

“I heard the court has become… more boring in my absence.” He walked to the center of the hall, his spurs jingling. “Hard to believe. After all, you’re all so… vibrant.”

Alicent, standing discreetly beside the throne, looked away, bothered by his presence—or by the way he was staring at her for a second longer than he should.

Rhaenyra, in turn, entered from the other side of the hall at that exact moment. She stopped when she saw him. A quick glint of surprise—perhaps joy—crossed her eyes.

Daemon smiled genuinely now, albeit slightly.

"Sobrin-Rhaenyra," he corrected before Viserys could complain. "I imagine my uncle didn't say I'd be returning today. Or did he?"

She approached slowly, trying to hide how much it affected her.

"I told you that you were... busy in the Valley." Her tone carried a dry, almost provocative humor.

Daemon chuckled softly.

"Busy… is a generous word to describe my married life." He raised his eyebrows, as if sharing.