Bronze She-Dragon

Chapter 15: Mighty

YEAR 129 AC

"Do we have any news from the Red Keep?" Daemon leaned on the table with his elbows, his gaze focused on the wall in front of him.

The Rogue Prince looked quite exhausted: North having turned their backs on the Blacks undermined his spirits greatly, as he believed that with their help the war was as good as won. However, the unexpected turn of events, which turned out to be such with the "help" of his eldest daughter, made the Blacks reconsider their whole strategy, shifting their focus to less significant, smaller objectives.

The servant, who was standing before Daemon, gulped nervously. The action of the man spoke to the Prince more vividly than the words: he could tell, the news won't make him happy.

"According to some, the usurper's army left King's Landing and marched towards Riverlands. Whether Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond are with them, we do not know. They have not been seen."

Daemon sighed.

"I see..." The man fell silent for a moment as if hesitating before asking the following question. "What of Daena? Was anything heard?"

"Vermithor wasn't seen to leave the Dragonpit, my lord. Most likely, the Lady hasn't left the Red Keep."

The Prince frowned. His daughter truly turned out to be tougher than he thought her to be. He expected no less of Daena, however: if she was so easy to bend, the game would've been too easy.

"How is the boy doing?" Daemon suddenly broke a silence that lasted a good minute or so.

"Ser Lancel, my lord? The boy is starving himself to death. He refuses to eat or drink. His legs are not healing that well, still quite swollen." The servant looked sympathetic towards the little boy, yet he could not read the emotions of his grandsire. Some speculated that Prince Daemon, having no love for his daughter, had no love for the Lannister boy, merely using him as a tool to achieve his goals. Some disagreed. But the truth remained the mystery to the public. 

"The boy has to live. Do whatever is needed." Daemon muttered, turning his gaze away.

The silver-haired man wasn't as emotionless as he could look to his inferiors. He, despite his reputation, was still a human being. He neither loved nor despised his first-born, no matter the actions of hers, which most considered traitorous. Daemon couldn't bear to look at his grandson either; a poor little boy, whose pleads to take him back to his mamma fell deaf in Rogue Prince's ears, was quite a picture of Daena. Every time Daemon's eyes fell on Lancel, he reminded him of his own daughter the day he took her forever away from Runestone. The same pain in their gazes, the same red cheeks, the same eyes, swollen from tears. As he felt the guilt eating him from within, he locked the Lannister boy in the chambers, only leaving a single serving girl to attend to him.

Rhaenyra was quite mad at Daemon for abducting a mere babe, for her motherly heart couldn't make peace with the pain Daena was very likely to be experiencing. Yet, her husband insisted on the necessity of such an action. Rhaenyra knew: if Daena descended from the sky on dragonback to save her son, she would be slaughtered instantly. The Black Queen herself didn't loathe her cousin and step-daughter, nor did she wish for her death; she believed Daena was led astray by the vile counsel of the Greens, yet she knew that the advantage of Aegon in the face of Vermithor had to be taken care of. And, unfortunately, there was no other way to break the bond between the dragon and the rider, other than the death of one.

* * *

The sun was setting above the Red Keep, the stars on the night were coming to replace the star of the day. The curtains in Daena's chambers weren't shut, letting the last rays of sunshine in. The Lady slowly took her robe off, stepping into the warm water of the bathtub. As the water embraced Daena's body, she closed her eyes, leaning her head on the wooden back of the tub.