Love & War | Yellow Claw, Yade Lauren
❝if all is fair in love and war
i can't do this anymore❞
She was falling.
Plummeting really.
The air whipped around her, screaming, and raging as Daenerys fell. It whispered of treachery and betrayal.
Drogon dived next to her, his monstrous black form far larger than she remembered. His scales seemed to glow in the sinking light of the sun, his wings curled around his body as he dived towards her.
The endless expanse of water laid below her, approaching at a rapid pace.
Drogon's body was nearing closer and closer, his wicked red eyes focused intently on her. The crystalline water was almost upon her now, its surface tempting and bright.
The powerful beating of her dragons leathery wings roused her from her trance as his body descended next to her.
Rallying the last of her strength she grasped his fins that protruded from his scaly back and pulled her body close to his.
The were now diving together, mimicking the way the way a rider would – just more dangerous, there was no way out, a mistake here would mean her death.
They were plummeting fast, still in their dangerous nosedive. Drogon scaly head was on the verge of meeting ocean before his wings curled, barely lifting his massive body. He let out a triumphant screech, the tips of his wings skimming the water as it explodes around them, reaching high in the air before falling once more, dousing Daenerys thoroughly.
She lets out a breathless laugh, grinning at Drogon who lets out a joyful warble in response.
Two large draconic figures descend from the sky in unison, green and white, spiraling down, Viserion – her lovely girl – much more elegantly than her brother. Viserion's tail comes out to playfully flick at Rhaegal's who roars in response.
Daenerys watches, grinning as she does, as her missing beasts tussle teasingly in the air, snapping their jaws to one another. Drogon, reaches his head, extending his neck to ram his head lightly into Rhaegal's underbelly. The movement nocks him into his sister as the fight once more – Daenerys laughter – light and bright in a way it had never been – echo in the empty space.
And for the first time in a very long time, Daenerys feels happy, truly happy. The kind of happy that sends shivers down your back. The bubbling kind that makes you feel like a child once more.
Her eyes snap open, violet irises glowing harshly in the dark. Her chest heaves with exertion, sweat dripping off her forehead.
A dream, it was dream.
She chides herself sharply, hating herself for the longing she feels deep within her chest.
She closes her eyes, the momentary light swallowed in the darkness once more. Only the darkness bears witness to the single tear that drips from her eye, leaving a salty path down her cheek.
As the dream plays over in her head, she can feel the empty holes – the ones she swore didn't exist – in her heart where Viserion and Rhaegal once occupied, begin to glow with a powerful yearning.
And so, Daenerys wishes and prays – she follows no religion despite her mother's insistence, holds the seven no closer to heart than in her previous life. And so, instead she opens her mind, she prays to the fourteen flames, for everything and nothing at the same time.
Wishes that this deep grief would disappear. Wishes that she knew a path forward. Wishes for a guiding light, something to show her the way – for she is so, so lost.
She does not know where to go from here.
Does not know what to do, where to go, what her purpose is.
She doesn't know who she is anymore.
And high above, the Fourteen Flames answer, their gazes seldom with pity and fondness, eyes soft with affection and sorrow as they answer to her desperate prayers.
A guiding light she wants, and a guiding light she will receive.
Three in fact. Her family and a fire-blooded beast.
She was tearing through the halls, Heleana at her heel. Daenerys made a sharp turn, making for the throne room. The doors opened, groaning as they did.
The first thing she saw was Aemond. Her brother. A large scratch marred his face, going through his eye. Her hear sunk as she studied the gruesome wound.
She made a beeline for him, ignoring the maester and his slopy stitches. She bristled discretely as he made another move catching her brothers wince.
She scowled at the man, glaring at him coldly. She had a half mind to do it herself. Afterall she certainly was more qualified than this fool of –
What had started out as a furious thought had evolved. Why couldn't she?
She could do it, that she was sure of, having learnt from may wood witches and other talented healers from both her current life and her past one.
She hesitated, meeting her brothers eye carefully. It was blindingly obvious that he was in extreme pain.
That cemented it. She ignored the rats protests as she pushed him aside, taking the silver needle from his hands sharply.
"Sister?" came Aemond's groggy voice, "what are you –"
She stared into his eyes calmly, "do you trust me" she offered instead.
She was faintly aware of the presence of the others – who she had somehow only noticed know – staring at her a mixture of curiosity and awe.
"Why wouldn't I" he muttered confusion apparent. His eyes slowly travelled down to the sharp metal in her hand before realisation settled in. He met her eyes once more before nodding resolutely. "You are my sister" he uttered, firmer know, "If I cannot trust you than who can I?"
She smiled softly at him, moving to one of the barely lit torches, allowing the needle to bath in it, ignoring the sharp gasp and murmurs of 'it's true' and 'mother told me it was a lie'.
For her hand was bathing with the flame as well. A sign of her lineage, her power. She didn't meet any of their eyes, blatantly avoiding meeting any of Rhaenyra's children.
She was almost embarrassed to say she had grown slightly fond over them. She still didn't approve of their weaknesses or the way they seemed to assume the world owed them something because they were born with brown hair.
Their childishness endeared her to them, but only barely. She still did not like them, but they reminded her of what she could've had. What she didn't.
She ruthlessly squashed any pain she felt.
With careful efficiency she moved, siding the burning needle through his skin quickly. Aemond hissed in pain but remained otherwise still.
She spares him an apologetic look.
She was cut off by Corlys loud voice. "What has happened" he demanded, glaring around the room. His eyes land on his granddaughters, for the most part ignoring Rhaenyra's children.
He was followed by Rhaenys, who spared Daenerys a quick glance of interest before heading towards her husband.
Daenerys did not miss the way her eyes trailed down to the metal in her hand. She saw the understanding appear in her indigo eyes (a different colour to hers, she still doesn't understand why no one has the same shade as her), soon followed by a flicker of approval that vanished as quickly as it came.
Her father, followed by Daemon – who seemed triumphant if his smug swagger was anything to go by – and Rhaenyra, who was seething angrily, directing a poisonous look towards her.
She blinked momentarily taken back before she continued her methodical stitching.
Otto and her mother strode in, the former with his hands twitching as if he wanted to clench them and the latter nervously fidgeting.
Rhaenyra's face blanks as she studies the room. It doesn't stay that way for long. Daenerys pauses, she hadn't actually known what happened, she had simply gone to her brother.
"What is the meaning of this" Rhaenyra snaps angrily, glaring bitterly at she and Aemond. Her expression further sours as she glances at the steady stitches that Daenerys is completing.
Aemond stiffened at the accusatory tone, "they attacked me" he defended, pointing towards Jace and Luke.
Then chaos erupted.
The room was filled with loud shouting and in the corner of her eyes she
could see Heleana flinch back and cover her ears with her hand.
"SILENCE"
Viserys ignored the room, glaring determinedly at his wounded son, "Aemond, I will have the truth of what's happened".
Finally done with the stitches, Daenerys stepped back slightly, allowing the room to see Aemond. He seemed bolder know, steadily rising with a spine of steel and lifting his head proudly.
"I have claimed Vhagar"
Next to her brother, Daenerys assessed the reaction, taking careful not of who seemed concerned or pleased.
Rhaenyra had gone slightly pale, face ashen and wary as she glared at Aemond angrily. Daenerys could not hide her confusion when her half-sister glanced at Daemon with something similar to triumphant and relief. Rhaenys seemed curious, studying the one-eyed boy severely – a small hint of disapproval and offense visible, Alicent looked both relieved and panicked and Daemon...
Well...
His body had stiffened up, his expression akin to a enraged beast, a dragon who had his gold – or perhaps a favoured prize – snatched out from underneath him. His narrowed eyes, hollowed out with a dark hatred seemed directed at Otto Hightower.
The man in question seemed smug and mildly relieved, his face drawn up proudly – as if it was, he who had claimed a dragon. His face flickered briefly with wariness once he caught sight of Daemons enraged eyes, a tinge of uncertainty crossing his face.
Daemon's eyes cut to Viserys and back. She didn't even flinch when his hand moved to the pommel of his sword. He drew it quickly with the efficiency of a man who had been to war and back. The corner of his lips quirked up, moving to resemble a snarl.
It all happened in a second.
You would have missed it if you blinked.
Daemon lunged.
His movements were quick and sharp.
Lethal
The sword at his side moving to the hands neck and pausing there. Much to her reluctant amusement, Otto had to look up slightly in order to stare at her uncle in the eye.
Rhaenyra gasped, staring at Daemon in horror.
Honestly, Daenerys didn't know why, it wasn't as if his death would send the realm into chaos.
Rhaenys stared at the scene with a faint sort of amusement, as if resigned to her families ways.
Behind her, Aemond gripped her hand softly. Aegon was watching indifferently, clearly bored. Their gazes met and he sent her a lazy wink, the mischievous pull of his lips.
The sword was at his neck know, holding steady, the threat of death clear if the hand even dared move.
Pity
Truly a pity
Oh well
What can you do really?
It wasn't as if she was going to risk her life for that.
The slightest hints of disappointment crossed her as her fathers voice echoed around the room.
"Daemon – what are y- Daemon!" Viserys snapped briskly, rubbing his forehead tiredly. As much as he disguised it though, she could see the uncertainty on his face. "Stay your hand brother – your king demands it".
Daemon didn't move, ignoring him completely.
"Your brother demands it" he murmured, staring at his brother silently.
Daemon glared at Otto sharply, pushing the blade in ever so slightly, drawing a line of crimson.
The man spluttered and gasped, unable to hide the fear in his muddy brown eyes.
Both brothers eyes met each other, gazes colliding in a mixture of a lifetime of hurt and betrayal.
And his sword wavered.
Daemon turned his head away, masking his momentary vulnerability with a burning rage.
"Well," he spoke mockingly, lips twisted in a vicious smile, "If my King demands it" his words were punctured with a wicked amusement, still staring down at Otto coldly. "Then who am I to deny?"
He pulls the blade away, wiping the blood on the jagged wall, sneering as he did. "Your blood is not even worthy to stain my blade" he scoffed harshly, deigning Otto with a look of fiery hatred.
Daemon turned his gaze towards her father. "You are a fool, brother" he said coldly, any trace of familiarity gone, replaced with a man who felt his families betrayal one to many times. "I have followed our fathers words closely, I have tried, the real question is – have you?"
He inclined his head slightly, "Guard aōha lēkia closely, va moriot support zirȳla, se dōrī rual anyone naejot drive iā wedge rȳ ao. Se lentor hen zaldrīzes kostagon mērī withstand zȳha foes skori issa united se kostōba".
[Guard your brother closely, always support him, and never allow anyone to drive a wedge between you. The House of the Dragon can only withstand its foes when it is united and strong.]
The words come out smoothly, but it lacked the warmth that High Valyrian demanded, the tenderness, the emotion, the love.
Daemon allowed a scornful laugh to escape, "I see know that he told that to the wrong sibling". He glared bitterly at Viserys, "Pity".
Viserys opened his mouth, eyes shining with pain, "Daemon" he tried, "brother– "
He scoffed dismissively, glaring at the surrounding people. Otto's eyes were flickering between the two carefully. Rhaenyra seemed to have missed part of the conversation, staring with obvious confusion at Daemon. Aegon seemed ready to laugh at his fathers misfortune. Aemond was standing determinedly next to Daenerys, glaring at the room coldly.
"Its simply one insult after the other with you isn't it Viserys?" snarled Daemon. Viserys face crumbled at the lack of the word 'brother'.
"The recent one being the decree – after all – you always were one to break your word."
A flare of unease coiled through her, "What decree?". Her eyes scoured the room sharply, noting her father's guilt. "Father?" her tone was colder now, the brief unease growing. "What decree" she snapped, tone harsher than before". It was overwhelming now. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.
"Daughter, Daenerys, my beloved daughter- " Viserys struggled, the guilt portrayed in his purple eyes – already immense – only growing.
Daemon scoffed, "Oh don't bother Viserys, she should know – deserves to know in fact". The room stayed deathly quiet now. Viserys head bowed low, Alicent nervously huddling towards her father. Rhaenys allowed a brief spark of pity to enter her form. Corlys stayed silent. Aegon paused, staring at the room warily. Aemond was glaring at both his uncle and father.
"No?" he spun around mockingly, his blazing eyes barely softening when they locked eyes.
Viserys sighed in resignation, avoiding Daenerys eyes. "As my brother said, I made a decree earlier, one only known to him, Queen Alicent, my Hand, Princess Rhaenyra, my cousin, and Lord Corlys. After a lengthy discussion, I have decreed that Princess Daenerys shall be given to Prince Daemon to wed as soon as she comes of age."
Baela and Rhaena flinched back, matching looks of disbelief thrown towards their father – understandable so, their mother had just died after all. Despite Rhaenys and Corlys already knowing – they both managed to look mildly affronted.
Daenerys face had blanked. Eyes devoid of emotion as she stared at her father coldly.
"Pardon?" she said abruptly, her eyes like two shards of ice.
She turned her attention to her father, the man flinching at whatever he saw in her face.
His mouth opened and closed a few times, before he eventually lowered his head, his guilt clear.
The room remained in silence, no one daring to speak.
Aegon seemed angry on her behalf – something she did appreciate.
Aemond was grasping her hand tightly.
She stared at the room coldly, "I see".
"Daughter" began Viserys desperately, "Please try to understand, I was trying to protect–"
She scoffed, "Trying to protect me" she laughed scornfully, "No father, if you were trying to protect me then you would've simply assigned more guards, raised the number of Kings guards – this" she gestured to him, "is you trying to control me" she spat out harshly.
Viserys crumbled – practically folding over in guilt. Daemon was watching her in open fascination.
Rhaenys seemed wistful, staring at her with something akin to grief. Corlys was impressed. Rhaenyra – a mix of gleeful and annoyed and her brothers moved towards her protectively.
"Daughter–" he whispered.
"– Oh, don't coddle her father, she will learn in due time" interrupted Rhaenyra, nose lifted in the air as if her words would praised. "My interest is towards whoever has injured my darling sons and, of course, the vile insults levied against them" she said, looking disdainfully towards Aemond.
Daenerys bristled, turning her sharp gaze towards her the women, feeling Drogon rouse from his slumber – ever so attentive to her emotions. Even Daemon looked taken aback by her interruption, switching his suffocating glare to her.
She continued on, clearly oblivious to the tension that remained heavy and suffocating. "The legitimacy of my children were put into question" she offered.
Daemon had rolled her eyes dismissively, Rhaenys looked exasperated, Corlys seemed amused and annoyed, Viserys – for she refused to call him her father – looked both relieved and irritated at the interruption.
"He called us bastards" said Jace unhelpfully, pointing at her brother.
She wanted to laugh.
To scream.
To allow Drogon to raze the world down.
She could not believe her father. His willingness to close his eyes. To ignore what was so obvious.
Is it not the truth princess?
"My sons are in line to inherit the Iron Throne. To question the legitimacy of their birth is the highest of treasons. I demand that Prince Aemond be sharply questioned," Daenerys curled her lip in anger, "over where he heard such slanders."
Are you truly so desperate to prove your sons are not bastards by sentencing a child to death?
She snapped.
"Rhaenyra" she said cooly, ignoring the titles the women had been bestowed upon birth, "are you truly so callous that you would wish for the torture of a child?" she questioned sharply.
The woman in questioned paused, staring at Daenerys with disbelief and fury. She seemed taken back by the words spoken to her – as if she had never heard someone say 'no' to her.
"How cany you stand their and demand your brother – your blood be tortured" she snarled, lips pulling up in her rage. "Are you truly so callous that you would stain your name with the title kinslayer, were one of us to sharply question your sons about the insults that were no doubt wagered against my brother – would you consider it to be kinslaying?"
She paused, carefully choosing her next words.
"Although" she allowed a cruel smile to play on her face, "with such little Targaryen blood, would it truly be considered kinslaying?"
Everyone understood what she meant. She could see it in the way Otto put his hands over his mouth to stroke his beard, intended to hide the mirthful grin he wore. In the way, Rhaenys looked so disappointed, averting her eyes from Rhaenyra, and sharply pulled Rhaena and Baela behind her, Rhaenyra looked beyond taken back, as if she had never expected someone to question her children's legitimacy so freely.
Daemon was staring at his eldest niece, the corners of his lips pulled down.
The strong boys flushed, Jace's eyes staring at the floor, seemingly on the verge of tears.
As desperate as ever, Rhaenyra turned on her heels to face the king. "Father" she snapped, clearly unaware that she looked like a child crying behind her mothers skirts. "Will you accept this insult to my children" she cried, eyes wide with poorly concealed panic.
Viserys seemed reluctant to answer, still anxiously attempting to meet Daenerys eyes. "I see no insult Rhaenyra, she was simply commenting upon their Velaryon blood" he murmured, still ignoring her.
Rhaenyra's ears turned red, glancing around the room in an attempt to find support.
There was none to be found. None had forgotten the comparison between her and the cruel king.
Daenerys rage had still not cooled, however. The fire pumping through her blood desperately wanting more.
"But" she began, her tone riddled with a cold, calm sort of intensity, she glared at Rhaenyra harshly, eyes glowing with the force of her ire. "after all, what do I know, right? I suppose I'll learn with time, right, sister". Her calm was gone now, filled with a blazing rage, a lethal poison.
She knew her words had hit their mark when murmurings echoed through the room. Rhaenys snorted softly, her gaze – surprisingly warm – met hers.
She let her body fall into a mocking bow, arms outstretched as her body dipped shallowly. "Your grace" she said coldly, turning away from Viserys and striding away.
The door slammed shut behind her – emphasising the icy silence that had descended on the room.
Daenerys stormed into her chambers, slamming the door as she did.
How dare he?
How dare he promise her one thing then go and sell her to another?
Pearlescent tears dripped down her pale cheeks, one after the other.
She hadn't even cared about Daemons involvement in it – it wasn't as if he was the one who promised not to betroth her without her acceptance.
A light knocking at the door was all the warning she got before it swung open.
She glared at him through her muffled sobs, "What do you want?" she snarled out spitefully, taking pleasure in the way her father flinched back.
He hobbled forward, concern etched upon his features. "Daughter..." his voice trailed off, heavy with guilt.
What right did he even have to be guilty?
He was the one to make the decision.
"You must understand – I was only trying to protect you Daenerys" he began, desperation leaking from his voice, "that was my only attempt, I did not mean to hurt you", his eyes were wide and pleading, practically begging.
How pitiful.
How sad.
How pathetic.
She glared at him through red rimmed eyes. Her tone was lethal and quiet when she spoke, every word designed to twist that dagger through his bleeding heart.
"Jaehaerys was a horrible father, but at the very least he was a good king – you are simply just a horrible father"
The entire day had been a haze.
Mind wrought with pain over her daughter's death and – as the day progressed and most of it could fall on one girl – Daenerys.
Rhaenys could not believe her eyes when the girl – dubbed as the Realms Jewel – had landed for her daughters funeral.
Her breath had hitched, and she had latched onto her husband's arm for support.
This girl – gods – she was the very image, of her deceased father.
The same slanted eyes, the ever so constant amused glint in her eyes, the sharp jawline. It was all there.
Of course, somethings differed – the colour of her eyes for one, the way she held herself for another.
Caraxes had seemingly been fond of the young girl – yet another hit to her already bleeding heart.
And then of course – the chaos of Daenerys and Daemons betrothal.
She had wanted to cry then, gripping Corlys hand tighter than ever. The pain of both her cousins disregarding her Laena's death had been like dagger through her soul.
Painful and never ending.
Her coffin had not even sunk to the sea before Daemon had been promised to another once more.
It had only proceeded to get worse when the boy had claimed her beloved daughters dragon.
She understood why he did it.
But understanding didn't mean forgiveness.
Not always.
Not this.
She was tired, tired of the mourning. Tired of the grief.
And yet it didn't end there.
It had been so typical of Viserys to do this without alerting his daughter that he had sold her of.
She truly did not know why she was so surprised.
And then of course Rhaenyra dismissing her sister so disdainfully was certainly offensive – then to turn and hide behind her fathers words as if she had not goaded her into speaking.
Not to mention the heirs heir, Jace – the Andal look alike – had not risen to the moment, instead he had sunk, flailing through the water like a rock.
Proof that they weren't fit for the throne.
She wanted to disappear – to grieve what was left of her daughter in piece – she wouldn't even get that.
Laenor – her darling son, her remaining child – dead.
Neck slit and eyes cold. His body pure and untouched.
Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead.
All of them were dead.
Viserys didn't know where it had gone wrong.
He had been so sure he was doing the right thing. He had ignored the small voice that had protested against the betrothal.
He wasn't so sure now.
His daughter had sent him away after her... outburst.
He was lost.
Not for the first time he wondered if he was doing the right thing. He was. He had to have.
He wanted to protect her, and despite the fact that she was upset – he wouldn't cancel it. She would either marry his brother or his son after her seven and tenth name day. He refused to leave her unprotected, even if she hated him for the rest of his life, this marriage would go through, and she would be all the safer for it.
She had to be.
If she wasn't...
He brushed of these thoughts determinedly, refusing to even entertain the idea.
He studied the room tiredly, his daughters words still echoing in his mind.
At least he was a good king – you are simply just a horrible father.
"What has happened?" he roared, hating the silence
"Make room for the king," Alicent commanded, brushing against them. "My love," she continued, cheeks flushed red, and hand planted on his chest as she ran to him. "I don't know..."
He frowns at her.
"Move away."
Alicent squinted, lips pulling down as she studies him, she hesitates – then pulls away.
His vision was blurry due to the light of the flames, and the early hour - but he could see his favourite cousin down on her knees, cradling someone's head against her chest, rocking back and forth.
"Rhaenys?" he questions.
Viserys paused, for in an instant, he recognized the distinguishable silver hair of his son-in-law, and the rings that he always wore on his fingers, lay scattered on the ground, unscathed and – if he want mistaken a few drops of blood?
His teal eyes stared blankly ahead, a clean slit on his neck, arms crudely stretched out.
Dead.
"By the gods", he gasped, eyes desperately scouring the room, "what could– "
The rest of his sentence was lost in the crowd, for he did not find either Rhaenyra nor her children - only Lord Corlys roaring his fury.
"How did this fucking happen?!" the high lord shouted. "On my land!" he spat, slamming the guards away when they tried to help him.
A series of curses escaped Corlys mouth, each one worse than the next.
Viserys watched the man in pity, understanding the pain of losing his children.
"My dear friend" he spoke, allowing as much emotion into his voice as he could, "this is not the way to go, allow some of my guards to scour the shores to find his murderer" he offered.
Rhaenys was hunched over Leanor's still form, pearlescent tears dripping from her pale skin.
Alicent was picking at her nails anxiously, wearily standing, eyes on the dead boy's body.
Lord Corlys snarled viciously, "I want the traitors body by the morn" he spat harshly.
One of the guards stepped forward, eyes nervously skimming the room. "The guards who witnessed the... event" he said carefully, "speak that there were two of them. The first traitor ingested a type of poison before they could capture him and the second disappeared..." his voice trailed off, eyes flitting across the room uneasily.
Smart. Seeing as the Sea Snake looked far too close to murder at that moment. "Are you implying– "
The queen was the first one to witness the dread fill her stepdaughter's eyes as she entered, not even properly dressed, her hair falling loosely on her shoulders, only wrapped in a robe to hide her white nightdress.
Rhaenyra's gaze fell on her husband as the crowd scattered to let her see.
Her scream echoed loudly along the halls of High Tide, resembling a banshee's scream.
His gaze, seldom with pity stared down at her as she fell to her knees, sobbing in great ugly heaves.
As she did Viserys could not help but notice that it seemed very... mechanical. His brows furrowed as he stared at the image of his daughter burrowed her head into her deceased husbands.
Everything down to her hair seemed... orchestrated.
He shoved the growing sense of unease down.
Deep inside however, he knew it was far too late, for it could only ever grow until it was a raging monster. Too destructive and uncontrollable to ever control.
At least he was a good king – you are simply just a horrible father.
Reckless.
He had been called that for as long as he could remember.
By his father, his brother, his deceased cousin, his niece.
Both enemy and foe had called him so.
He had waited in Driftmark, prepared to seduce his niece, and allow pure Targaryen blood to sit upon the throne once more (for surely his niece couldn't be as foolish to think her bastard could?).
He had expected to feel the roaring flame of desire that announced her presence.
It had never come.
Instead, he had found his eyes following the youngest girl – Daenerys Stormborn Targaryen. The girl who had ridden upon her black beast at six. The girl who had been born during the storm that sunk over half of the Redwyne fleet. The girl's egg whose hatched the moment she placed her hand on it.
The girl who remained unburnt.
And suddenly Rhaenyra was all but wiped from his mind. Gone as soon as he caught sight of the most beautiful girl in the realm. All feelings of infatuation were gone – because in the end that was what he felt for his eldest niece – and a dark obsession and love was what remained for Daenerys.
He had had it all then - nothing. His Valyrian bride cruelly snatched away from him.
And well – if he couldn't have her then he would have another.
Rhaenyra was all that was left, a second option, an afterthought, she was the consolation prize.
The obsession for Daenerys hadn't faded.
He wasn't sure if it ever would.
Authors Note
Alright, so Daemon is a little fucked in the head, trauma probs, hes getting obssesed over her, but not like sexually cause I really dont want him to be a pedo.
Don't forget to vote and comment!
Anyway have a great day and hope you enjoy the story.