Warning: Daemon Targaryen
**
Daemon POV
Fire and blood.
Those are his House's words. For over a century, House Targaryen has stood at the pinnacle of power and prestige in the world, because they adhered to their ancestors pledge. And all the concealed and flagrant threats their motto encompasses.
But then a snake was let into the garden. A duplicitous treasonous second son belonging to some second rate Andal House.
Daemon would never forget the day his grandsire, a once great and fierce monarch turned into a senile old man at the twilight of his life, decided it would better to give the Handship to that lowly cunt Otto Hightower.
His father, Baelon the Brave, rider of Vhagar and true heir to the Iron throne was dead. Instead of grooming Viserys, the new rightful heir, and allowing him to be prepared for the crown, Jaehaerys promoted an unimpressive overtly ambitious administrator to rule in his name.
Daemon can understand somewhat the old King's reluctantly to name his brother as Hand. Viserys was too soft and could be influenced by the most basic of manipulations and trickery. But giving so much power to someone outside of the House of the Dragon was lunacy and could embolden other worthless hungry courtiers to steal what is theirs.
And like an ignorant babe, Viserys kept Otto in his high-ranking position after he took the crown. No regard for Daemon's superiority in every perceivable aspect.
No. He even insulted him with the post of Master of Coin and Laws as a paltry consolation prize. As if he was throwing him a bone to not get too upset that his rightful seat is usurped.
Daemon was willing to go to war for his brother. He benefited as Viserys' heir presumptive yes. But he might've died in aerial combat had Rhaenys took to the sky and declared herself Queen.
He doubts she would pose a serious threat.
The issue stands nonetheless.
He's proven his loyalty ten times over. But instead of recognizing his worth, Viserys just dumped those sad city watch members into his lap after he threw his Small council positions back to his face.
He gathered his recruits, went underground and fashioned his own personal army. They were the Crowns's men. And soon enough he will be the Crown. It's a good back up plan to have them on retainer just in case someone tries to contest his legimate ascension.
After hearing his brother's planning to host a tourney for his 'heir'. Daemon let out his gold cloaks to make their debuts.
An unprecedented roundabout of criminals of every ilk was held that night. This part of the city was crawling with an infestation of lowlifes. If he hacked off a dozen or more so called innocents to secure King's Landing, then so be it. No one's going to mourn dead smallfolk anytime soon.
It brought him exquisite pleasure when that glorified Hightower steward tried to have him punished for cleansing the bowels of Fleabottom from its filth, and failed miserably at his attempt. Adding in that dig about his dead wife was just a bonus. Otto shouldn't have brought up his bronze bitch if he wasn't capable of hearing his retort.
He thought about how to spite him further.
It came so easily at the tourney. His son was participating in his first joust. So Daemon took it up himself to show him the ropes. Make him fall into dirt and taste the mud and his own blood to educate him on how his life would turn out should he cross the Targaryens.
And his above average looking daughter was sitting at the stand near his beautiful little niece Rhaenyra. She blushed and gave him her favor after he embarrassed her sub-par brother like a good curteous lady.
He did contemplate deflowering the Hightower maiden. Not just to spite Otto and make Rhaenyra realize that her friend is after nothing but political advancement through royal favor. But the idea of corrupting such a pious and naive girl brought him a particular kind of arousal.
But he digresses. The tourney was won by some cheating steward's son whose name he doesn't recall. He was barely above a paseant in pedigree. And of dornish blood to boot. The Roynar savages had refused to acknowledge Targaryen sovereignty for too long.
His first order as king is to fly Caraxes to Sunspear, burn the entire Martell line like the Conqueror did to the Hoares and finally bring Westeros to heel. As it always should've been.
The only good thing about that blasted tournament is that his position is now set in stone as Aemma and her babe are dead.
He's not soulless. Aemma was half Targaryen, so he mourned her as he would any with the blood of the dragon. But with a husband like Viserys, with an appetite nearly rivaling Daemon's, but none of his fire, virility or strength, she's better off. Her attachment to the southern faith due to her Arryn upbringing and fear of dragons also prevented any true bond to form between them.
He'll take care of her daughter. That he can do. As Viserys is too preoccupied with his model of old Valyria to care for Rhaenyra's well-being. With the proper incentive his niece will convince his brother to wed them in the tradition of their house. And restore the Targaryen dynasty to greatness.
**
Exiled.
What the bloody hell does that even mean. He's Viserys only male heir. This is his reward for championing his brother's claim.
Being robbed of his own.
And at the Hightower's behest. Otto's venom dripping from the weak King's tongue. No doubt the Hand wishes to put his own blood on the throne and strike while the iron's hot.
A naked power grab. More obvious than a lyseni courtesan's lust. How the dragon has fallen. To be beholden to the whims of lesser men.
The Rogue Prince has no intention to let his ancestral empire descend into ruins to satisfy heedless ambition.
If the kingship is out of his reach, becoming Protecter of the realm and consort to the Queen will have to suffice. The patriarchal nobility of Westeros will defer to him in any case. Just as they preferred Viserys to Rhaenys. Daemon will be the true power behind the throne.
Rhaenyra is a Valyrian beauty. His own niece. And he has fostered a special bond with her since she was a child.
Rhea Royce was ill-suited to be his wife. Another one of his grandmother Alysanne's follies. The good Queen lost all good sense after her children started dropping around her like flies. Thus her judgment is unpaired. Daemon was destined to be King with a Targaryen Queen by his side. Not some hideous sheep from the Vale.
One trip to Runestone later, his marital obligations were done. He admits lying dead on the grass. Her eyes lacking their regular scorn and derision. His bronze bitch was not too shabby. A shame Viserys didn't grant him an annulment when he asked. This is no one's fault but his.
Ah, well.
**
Things didn't work out as well as he expected.
Understatement of the century.
Everything that could go wrong, did go wrong.
He returned to the Red Keep a war hero. A king. A conqueror. And then he relinquished his fledgling crown to his brother.
And asked for nothing in return but Rhaenyra's hand in marriage. It was the easiest decision Viserys had to make. Join his brother and heir and assure his kingdom's prosperity under their reign. Or deliver the keys to the throne to Otto and Alicent and their half-breeds.
He did fuck Rhaenyra in a brothel to force his compliance. But if anything that's just proof he and his niece desire and love one other. What does it matter what some lord thinks.
They're dragons. They can take what hey want. Whenever they want.
That lying wretch Otto finally got fired. About time.
But Daemon was once again denied, spurned and ridiculed. Forced to leave the city he was meant to rule like a comman street urchin in the night.
And Rhaenyra was wed to Laenor bloody Velaryon. A good knight. Decent dragon-rider. And half Targaryen as well.
Except for the glaring problem of his interest in men. If Viserys hadn't wed a second son's daughter. Otto's spawn to be precise. He wouldn't need to prostate himself before the Sea Snake and offer Daemon's niece as a bargaining chip.
Truly what is to become of the glory of the Targaryen legacy. If half-breeds and bastards are all that remains.
**
What a sad excuse for a feast.
Daemon had no plans of setting foot within the Red Keep until the Hightower scourge was wiped clean.
Viserys was falling apart at the seems at Laena's funeral. Now he's just holding on by a tether. And in his convalescence the Greens have set up shop and claimed his throne as theirs.
He sees the half-breeds and their sycophants schmoozing all the nobles, trying to further their strangle on the kingdom. It's almost pitiful how they salivate like hounds after a crown forever looming just outside their reach.
The entire marriage was such a poor gamble for support. His brother's second daughter is a lackwit - the Hightower blood in her is strong - but she's still part Targaryen. To be thrown to the barbaric wolves in the North like a cheap trinket is not just dumb but useless. Stark would never break his oath. In his limited imagination, the northman probably believes dishonesty is a crime punishable by death.
Rhaenyra wanted to make her due diligence, so he let her talk to him. When she returned they resumed their dance. It was slow and passionate. A precursor to a mating ritual like the dragons of legend are said to partake in.
About an hour later, Rhaenyra took to the high table for refreshments.
While she was away, he was content to watch the ballroom from the shadows. That is until he noticed the sneer of the Velaryon party.
Not the Sea Snake. The two were old buddies from the war of the Stepstones and he wed Laena with his blessing. But not all of Corlys' House shared the sentiment.
Daemion Velaryon was the ringleader of this little group. The second son of Ser Vaemond Velaryon. Heir to nothing and no one.
He didn't attack Daemon or the Strong bastards, his presumed targets, but he might as well spit in his mouth.
Who does he think he is to disrespect the greatest dragon-rider who ever lived.
He moved with with his usual swagger. Everyone made way for him. Until he reached the Velaryons and took the hand of Daemion's wife, the delectable Aurora of Volantis.
"I was wondering if I could take the Lady Aurora for a dance. What was your name? I couldn't recall?"
As the story goes, Daemion saved her and her family from pirates while he was seafaring. She was so grateful she agreed to marry him.
She doesn't have to force herself to be with him now that Daemon has noticed her. Her complexion is a sign of her Valyrian heritage. Even if no dragonlord blood runs in her veins.
"You know very well my name Daemon Targaryen. And my wife has no interest to associate with the likes of you, kinslayer."
"What did you just say to me?"
He feels the blood rush. The flames ready to consume everything in sight. His blade cried for retribution. Swift and clean.
"Everyone knows that and your whore killed Laenor. Our kinsman. Just as he was yours. No true Velaryon will ever follow you. Or the bastards you parade as legitimate."
He actually spit in his face after his speech.
Very good.
Daemon removed the spit from his face. Laughed off the insult and turned around.
Then he doubled back and thrust Dark Sister to this pompous fool's neck, like a proper gentleman.
And let him bleed out on the tiles of the floor.
Finally some excitement.
What's the saying. It's not a proper westerosi weeding without a dead body.
Close enough.