Chapter Text

I. Daeron

It was so hard to stay still atop his saddle. Even harder was trying not to sprint ahead of the column, ride as fast as possible, so he could get to her sooner. The desire and anxiety were threatening to consume his soul.

As it stood, the young prince was already riding right in front of everyone else, forcing the pace to the closest thing to racing, and not allowing for a lot of rest. They were just a few hours away from King’s Landing, and that made Daeron even more unwilling to pause.

His mood had been sour throughout the journey, and not many traveling with the prince risked speaking much to him. So as the young dragonwolf heard another rider approaching, he knew exactly who it was.

“Your Grace.” Called Ser Jaime Lannister, a hint of amusement already. “Would you care to slow down?”

Prince Daeron glanced at the kingsguard sideways.

“We are so close to the city already. If anything, it is time to ride faster.”

The golden lion did not answer immediately, instead taking some moments to get his horse right by the prince’s side, the two of them falling in a steady pace.

“You see, my prince, the men did not have enough pauses in our march and the rhythm is exhausting. As you know, the North is a long way from King’s Landing.”

It was all very reasonable, said calmly. Yet Daeron knew his companion was enjoying watching him squirm, on some level. He let out a sigh.

“It would be simple if I could just ride ahead.”

“A prince of the Realm should not even be riding in front of the men this way, but I am trying to be considerate of your feelings. Donot make me chase you all the way to the Red Keep.”

“Perhaps I should make you chase me, so I can tell Father you were protecting me.” Daeron smiled mischievously, making the lion snort.

“Your Grace, may I offer some advice?”

“You may, if you stop calling me that, Ser.”

“Alright, Daeron. Take it from me. When people don’t call me kingslayer, the next insult is sisterfucker. There is a reason for that, aside from the obvious: I was not careful. I thought myself a lion of the Rock, that could do as he pleased. I was wrong.”

The prince felt like answering right away, defensive, but gave up half way to it. There was no point in denying.

“And what do you want? For me to leave Daenerys? I would sooner give up my claim to the Iron Throne.”

This was no idle threat. The damn thing was meant for his brother, Aegon, after all. He did not have to be tied down by anything. Only by her.

Ser Jaime looked at Daeron with a hint of shock on his green eyes, that vanished as quickly as it came.

“I would not dare to make such a suggestion. But I am advising caution. You think half of the Keep does not know about your sneaking in and out of the princess’ chambers?”

“What if they know?” Daeron felt like blushing, but stood his ground, grey eyes growing hard. “We are dragons of House Targaryen. Unlike the Lannisters, this is our way”

“Even Aegon, the Conqueror made compromises. He submitted to the Faith of the Seven when taking the Kingdoms, and founded your House to model the ways of the Westerosi. The only reason the incest was kept was to ensure the blood of Old Valyria necessary to ride a dragon. There are no more dragons and no more excuses. The people and the Faith look down on such things.”

Daeron knew. King Rhaegar’s reign was a delicate state of affairs. Their House had been weakened profoundly many times: first, with the Dance of Dragons, and the resulting death of the marvelous creatures. Then, it was the Tragedy at Summerhall, taking out over half of the human dragons. And last, Robert’s Rebellion. If they were weak before, the way the Rebellion happened, and how close the Baratheon traitor had gotten to usurping his father had showed everyone just how far that weakness went.

It made Prince Daeron absolutely furious to think on how the other great Houses and the Lannisters most of all, surrounded them like bloody hungry vultures.

Ever since, they had been careful. Years of effort and a solid rule, had made the people as fond of the King as they had been before the rebellion, and there was no denying that seeing his father, silver hair and indigo eyes, sitting the Throne with his benevolent yet firm way was reassuring, something that put at ease the Lords, even the ones that wished the power for themselves, for the most part.

Even so, they could not afford mistakes. But how can the thing that feels most perfect in my world be a mistake?. His prolongued silence made Ser Jaime sigh sadly.

“I am loyal to you. To your family, no matter how my father behaves. I am a knight of the Kingsguard, and as before, willing to put my honor, my name, and everything I stand for in jeopardy to follow my duty. That is why I am going out of my way to say this, boy. With your uncle Viserys and the situation delicate as always, you can not act about this as a dragon would. You must be a wolf - prowling in the dark, calculated, to ensure you get all you want, in one clean strike. Lucky for you, you have the potential to be both.”

Daeron took a long look at the knight at that point. His face was of gentle concern, and the prince felt it deeply. Ser Jaime and some of the other Kingsguards that were closest had all but raised the Targaryen children alongside his father, after the Rebellion. Even though there were only 6 dragons remaining in the world, it felt as a large family, with Ser Barristan, Ser Jaime, Ser Arthur, Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell surrounding them.

Ser Jaime, the Kingslayer, against all odds, was extremely dear to King Rhaegar. Had the knight not taken upon himself to end the life of the Mad King, all other lives on Kings Landing, including Daeron’s siblings and Princess Elia, would have been lost forever. They all understood the evil that Jaime had faced, the terrible choice. Almost all, at least.

That was the reason Ser Jaime was the knight sent to meet him as Daeron was halfway across the King’s Road. All of the young dragons, aside from Aegon, had been sent to stay with some of the great families of Westeros. A move to enforce strings of bond to House Targaryen, as the King refused to sell his young ones as cattle for marriage.

Daeron had spend three moon turns with House Stark in the North. Even though the Starks were linked to the Throne through his parents union, and his very existence, the Lords of the North themselves were still unruly. They needed a reminder that a true son of the North, the cub of the she wolf, was their prince.

“I know that. I appreciate your honesty. It is hard to rule my temper and restrain my desires. But not impossible.” Daeron realized that what he would say next hurt his very core, but he did regardless. “Tell the men to hold the march for now. We will continue in a few hours.”

Ser Jaime smiled, comprehensive. After all, in many ways, they shared the same issue.

“Thank you, Your Grace. For listening.”

He was turning his horse around before Daeron could complain again about the use of titles.