Daemon stumbled and put his hands to his head as he felt like it was drumming so loud he couldn’t hear Mysaria asking if he was okay.
They had landed at Dragonstone a few hours prior after his brother had banished him and informed him he would be naming Rhaenyra heir.
He clutched his head with a pained groan as he leaned against the painted table, memories were overwhelming his mind. His blood felt like it was on fire, he wanted to scream but he didn’t he just clutched his head and rode the storm.
Eventually the pain dulled and he could feel hands on him, his wife’s? No, the traitorous whore.
“Daemon, are you well? What happened?” Mysaria asked as she held his arm. Her very touch made him angry.
He shook his head and stepped away from her towards the windows, he leaned against the wall and let the fresh air go over his face as he centered himself. He didn’t know how but he was back from the dead.
He knew what had happened, his memories of this life are similar to his last but there were some minor changes. He pushed all of that away as he realized when he was and not where. He was newly exiled with the traitor that got him exiled in the first place.
“Daemon, please, what is happening?” she asked, her voice coming off as concerned but Daemon didn’t believe it for a moment. He knew what kind of traitor hid behind that smile. Well, her smile hadn't been what he liked about her but it still hid her intentions all the same.
In one quick moment he had her at sword point. She raised her hands and stepped away from him but he followed her “What has happened?!” Mysaria asked with wide panicked eyes as she looked between the blade at her throat and his eyes.
He sighed, almost remorseful “You go on and on about wanting to be safe, but betraying me. That wasn’t safe, you should have known that” he said with a low measured voice.
She went to deny it but he cut her off “Don’t bother, I know all about you selling my secrets to Otto fucking Hightower. You’re a snake hidden behind a pretty face and I will not be bitten in the back again” he said with a scowl.
He didn't even let her speak, just cut her head from her shoulders before tossing her body out below into the sea. The fish could have her.
Once the current problem was dealt with Daemon sat down in a huff, he had no idea what he was going to do now. He was in the past, so much had happened. He felt a stab of pain go through his chest at the thought of his children.
He sat there for minutes, maybe hours, he had no idea. He was listless until he heard a screech, he felt the side of his lips lift in a half smile as he heard his Caraxes.
He slowly got out of his chair and made his way outside, nothing helped him clear his head and think like Caraxes.
When Daemon finally made his way to the cave Caraxes likes to lay, the blood worm had crawled out to greet him “Hello boy, Just as handsome as you always are huh?” he asked him gently in Valerian.
Caraxes shoved his head into Daemon's chest causing him to laugh lightly as he scratch the side of his face. The last thing Daemon truly remembered was jumping from Caraxes back onto Vhagar and running his sword through Aemond’s good eye. He remembered his Nephews look of shock as he came flying through the air. It had been incredibly satisfying.
He had hoped with the death of Vhagar Rhaenrya would be able to win but he doubted it, even if she had it wouldn’t be the woman he loved on the throne. He loved his wife but by the end she had been a shadow of her former self, with each dead son she had been chipped away. If he was grateful for anything it was that she would not remember that pain.
He knew the likely hood she was also back was minuscule, the gods would never grant them such mercy. He had no idea how he was back himself but he knew it had something to do with the magic in his blood.
Since the moment he had these strange memories he has felt a warmth that had felt like an ember before, now it felt like an inferno. He could feel the magic simmering under his skin, his dragon's blood was truly awoken. It must have been what gave him these memories.
He would help his family, help his wife even if she didn't remember being such. He knew he was in a bad position to do that, newly banished, Viserys would be too angry to hear sense. He would need to wait at least another year before he could go back to his family. He hated it but if he went back now he wouldn’t be listened to.
He would need to think more on this.
For days he thought, he drank, he flew, and he planned, and he mourned.
It was after a week that a raven came, from Kings Landing, from Viserys. Inviting him back to the capital.
As soon as he saw the message he felt the hairs on his body stand up on end.
Viserys wouldn’t do this, he wouldn’t forgive him if nothing had changed. For things to have changed it must mean someone else remembers as well.
He didn't want to hope it was his wife but he did. He wished it was her and he hoped beyond hope it was but he squashed any hope of it before the thoughts could truly settle.
There was no use getting excited over nothing, he would go to the capital and see what his brother wanted. See if it was him that remembered instead.
If the end result was better for his family he would be fulfilled, still, a part of him still hoped it was his wife. He had lost his children but he prayed to all the gods of old Valeria that he didn't lose the other half of his soul.
With that thought he saddled Caraxes and flew to the capital, a purpose in every move he made.
