King's Landing 301 AC.
Melisandre.
More and more people would turn up at their services and some had even asked to be taken into their ranks. King's Landing though was not to be where their god's influence in Westeros would end. So she had begun the preparations to send priests and priestesses to the other cities, villages, and regions in Westeros. It would be the nearest ones first, the Crowlands, Stormlands, and Riverlands. Then the Reach, West, Vale, Dorne, and finally the North. For even the lands that followed the Old Gods would hear tales of her own.
She sought not to convert all and may not even convert some, though she doubted that would be what happened. Her god may very well be a jealous God as Daemon and Thoros were oft heard to say, but he was a patient one too. R'hllor had already made great strides in Westeros thanks to his chosen. They had more converts here now than they ever had before and Daemon himself didn't even preach or encourage any to follow, other than in his deeds. Melisandre had no doubt that in time they'd have as many followers as the Faith did. Though were she to wager, then she'd say they'd find few followers in the North.
Walking around the temple, she knew that they'd soon have to begin work on a much truer one for R'hllor's faithful to gather in and so she decided that today would be the day that she picked just where that would be. She passed by the morning classes, something that the former slaves that Daemon had freed would now hold daily, only briefly looking in to see people being taught to read and write before she then walked out into the courtyard and nodded to her two guards to follow her. Melisandre felt no danger in this city. Though in truth she had never known danger for true since she accepted the warmth of R'hllor's embrace. Which was funny when she really thought about it, as her prince did his utmost to put them in as many dangerous situations as possible.
Thoughts of Daemon made her look to the sky and she wondered when he'd be returning to the city and to his wife. Thoros had told her that Myrcella missed him terribly and not even his words that Daemon's mission would be a success and he'd return unharmed, had been enough to soothe her worries. She knew that it was love and not doubt that fuelled Myrcella's concerns and Thoros knew so very little of the former that he had mistakenly taken them to be the latter. So Melisandre had told him so and hoped that his words then spoken with her prince's love had been enough for the young woman.
"Lady Melisandre." Aradhor said softly taking her from her thoughts "A septa, my lady." he added when she looked at him confused.
The woman walked towards her and seemed to be bearing something in her hand, Aradhor and Donys, her two guards, both moved their hands to their spears, and yet Melisandre once again felt herself to be in no true danger.
"Whore of a heathen god." the Septa spat as she threw what seemed to be horseshit at her, Melisandre easily dodging out of its way and it then splattering harmlessly against the wall to her left.
"I walk with the favor of my god, while yours guides your aim. It seems another truth has been shown here today," she said almost smugly as she walked past the woman whose hand was covered in the shit she'd tried to throw at her. Meanwhile, Melisandre was still as immaculately presented as she'd been when leaving their temple.
In the end, she found no site that worked as well as she hoped it would. There were some that would do, but none that truly called to her and she wondered if mayhap she should ask Daemon to seek one out upon his return. She stopped at the edges of some of the preaching that R'hllor's faithful were doing, listened in, and enjoyed the passion and fervor that his words were spoken with. Then deciding she'd like to speak to Thoros, it was next to the tourney grounds that she found herself walking to.
She found him sitting close to the queen who looked somewhat bored by the spectacle in front of her. Melisandre too was unenthused by the idea of men riding against other men with the goal of knocking them from their horses and so she barely looked out at the field. She did hear the cheers and it was clear by the looks on the faces, of some of the women in particular, that they were enjoying it far more than she was. Daemon's cousin, the Rose of Highgarden, and some others all looked on most keenly. Making her way to take her seat beside Thoros, she was surprised when she felt a hand touch her arm. Both by the fact it did so without her guards stopping it and by the person it belonged to.
"Shiera?"
"We must talk you and I, far from here and other than with Thoros, alone," Shiera said urgently.
"Why?"
"Not here."
Nodding to the woman, who was even older than she was, Melisandre moved to where Thoros sat and whispered in his ear. Her friend rose to his feet after he had made his apologies while Melisandre then spoke softly to the queen and Daemon's grandmother to let them know that their departure was nothing to do with him. It was a lie she knew, though more of a white one. She was however certain that while whatever Shiera wished to speak to them about concerned Daemon, it wasn't a pressing concern as such.
The manse where they'd made their base was nearer than the temple or the Red Keep and so it was there that they headed. Shiera had gone on ahead of them and when they arrived it was to find her speaking to the Children of the Forest who still named this place their home. Leaf and her brethren had little interaction with anyone other than Daemon and his aunt, they were protected, happy, and other than enjoying the fruit and nuts that were brought to them, they went about their days almost unseen. Waiting until Shiera was finished speaking to them, she answered the unasked question that was on the tip of Thoros' tongue.
"I think it may be time for us to fly once more, old friend," she said softly.
Shiera did not stay speaking to the Children for too much longer and soon enough, all three of them walked into the manse and down to one of the larger rooms. Both she and Shiera turned down refreshments while Thoros accepted both food and water. After they'd taken their seats, they then waited until they were brought and the servant had left before they spoke any on what it was that was on Shiera's mind.
"I received a vision from the Old Gods, a task they seek me to undertake. It is one that I'll require your aid in and one that is no doubt in service to Daemon." Shiera began.
"What task?" Thoros asked.
"To retrieve the fifth ruby while Daemon retrieves the fourth."
Melisandre shuddered just a little and she looked to see Thoros close his eyes and then nod resignedly. If their prince was seeking the fourth and Shiera the fifth, then it meant that the time to close the red and white eyes was soon to be upon them. She had hoped they'd have known more peace before then, but it seemed it was not to be.
"We must look to the flames, Thoros. Our prince will seek the answers that only R'hllor can give," she said resolvedly.
"He will, though I will not lie and say I wish it was not so."
"As do we all, Thoros," Shiera said.
"When do you leave?" she asked Shiera.
"On the first tide. I've arranged the ship to take me where I need to go, though I'll require an escort. Mayhap some members of the Unsullied and Fiery Hand."
"Why?" Thoros asked curiously.
"I travel through unfriendly lands Thoros, and I do not walk with R'hllor's favor."
"You serve his chosen, Shiera, you've always walked in his favor," she said offering some comfort to the older woman.
"You'll seek your answers in the fires?"
"We will." Thoros said "I'll organize your escort." he added a moment later and got up and walked from the room, the food and water he'd asked for remained untouched.
"You know where it is?" she asked when they were alone.
"Where the queen fell."
"The Queen?"
"Rhaenys, where she and Meraxes breathed their last."
"Dorne," she said and the reason for the escort now became even more clear.
Thoros took less than an hour and when he returned it was to tell them that the men awaited them. Half a dozen Unsullied and four men of the Fiery Hand. Melisandre would have and then did, suggest more, but both Thoros and mayhap even, more importantly, Shiera herself, said it would be enough. They both bid her good fortune and told her they'd explain to Daemon where she was upon his return.
After she'd left, they moved to the fires and she saw exactly what it was they were to face. Once again she shuddered as despite seeing them before now, she'd not yet had to face them herself. This time she would be by her prince's side when he did so and in that she'd not be alone.
"He'll welcome seeing his brother again. Drogo and he together will be more than a match for these red eyes and he will close them, of that I've no doubt," Thoros said firmly.
"We have much work to do to make ready for our departure. You must see to the men, Thoros, to Torgho Nudho, and the others, I'll speak to Daemon's grandmother."
"The queen?" he asked.
"I fear my words would only cause her pain and she'd far prefer to hear them from Daemon himself."
"She would."
"The night is dark and full of terrors," she said softly.
"But we walk in his light," Thoros replied and she took much comfort from that.
The Isle of Faces 301 AC.
Ser Arthur Dayne.
Had someone asked him as he readied to join Daemon and Jaime Lannister in flying to Casterly Rock and then Oldtown, Arthur would have said that seeing the world from atop a dragon's back would be the most amazing sight he'd see on this trip. It was a truly amazing and awe-inspiring one and yet it had paled to seeing those things move across the water how they did. He'd asked and been told as much as Daemon was willing to tell him about the so-called shadows. Had found out they were kings who'd been forced to serve in death to make up for their actions in life. When he'd asked if they were to serve for eternity, he'd not much liked Daemon's answer, jape though it was.
" I know not, Arthur, they'll serve me until I meet mine own end, so mayhap if my life is a short one then so will their sentence be."
He'd misliked the casual way that Daemon spoke of his death and had told him so. Daemon then said that just as he did, he walked with death every day he awoke, and every day he fought it off one more time. That one day he'd find it to be a fight he'd lose and once you knew that, then what else mattered. His expression had shown he'd liked that even less and so Daemon had placed a hand on his shoulder and whispered in his ear.
" The only thing we say to the god of death, is not today, Arthur. I find I've much to live for and so the fight I face is one I'm more than ready for. We can ask no more than this from our lives, and when my end comes, I seek it to be after a very long and happy life."
" As do I, your grace," he said determinedly.
After the shadows had gone about their work, he and Jaime had listened as Daemon had screamed through the night. Both of them had been told to ignore what they heard and that it was dreams and night terrors and not any true danger that Daemon would experience. As much as he'd wanted to believe it, seeing him stagger from the tent and then thrust his hand into the flames had almost been too much for him to take. He'd tried to stop him, only to find that Daemon possessed a strength that he couldn't match, not then at least.
Afterward, it had been like looking at a different man and Daemon had explained somewhat that because he bore R'hllor's favor, he took strength from the flames. He'd spoken it in a way that made some sense. Jaime then saying that mayhap that was why R'hllor had needed a dragon for his chosen and Daemon seemed to slightly agree, or at least not disagree. When he'd asked should they not go and make certain that what they'd come for had been done, Daemon had told him that he could guarantee it had been and so with that, it was now south they were flying.
They were soon flying over the Riverlands and he found himself wondering if this was the sight that the Conqueror saw as he readied to bring the flames to Harren the Black and Harrenhal. If it was then it was a majestic one and yet it paled in comparison to the one he saw beneath him when they flew over the God's Eye. From atop a dragon, it truly did look like an eye staring up at you and it sent a shiver down Arthur's spine. The Isle of Faces was almost dead center in the lake and much to his surprise, the lake itself was as close to a perfect circle as he was ever like to see. Daemon flew around it for some time and Arthur wondered what it was that was going through his mind as he did so.
Was he thinking of the Battle that was fought above it?
Of Caraxes and Vhagar fighting to the death?
Of Daemon and Aemond both fighting their very last fight and the jump from one dragon's back to the other?
Was he like his father had been when he spoke about it, thinking of what a true waste it had been?
Whatever thoughts were going through Daemon's mind, they soon must have been resolved because they landed after their fourth or fifth circling of the lake and the island below them. Lyanax quickly took back to the sky and Arthur was surprised by her eagerness to leave Daemon, he, and Jaime behind. The dragon was ever protective of her rider and each time they'd landed, Daemon would speak softly to her before she'd ever take back to the sky. Wondering why this time it was different, he and Jaime moved close to Daemon to ask him, only for Daemon to speak the words and explain them to both of them first.
"She likes this place not. The Old Gods are powerful here and she like me serves another god."
"Your dragon serves R'hllor?" Jaime asked surprised.
"She's R'hllor's greatest gift, Jaime. Who do you think it was who brought dragons into this world?"
"Wait, you're saying that dragons only exist because of R'hllor?" Arthur asked.
"Not only that, but it is by his will that the forty and my House in particular were able to bind them to us," Daemon said before he began to walk further away from the shore where they'd landed.
"I don't… Explain it to me."
"My god has been playing a game with the world for as long as it's been around, Arthur. He makes moves that take generations to come to pass, moves so far in advance that I, you, none of us could ever even begin to comprehend them."
"That's not possible," Jaime said incredulously.
"For a god?" Daemon chuckled "Did you not see me rise from the dead, Jaime? Were you not by my wife's side after I breathed my last? Were you both not in the Dragonpit when my pyre was set alight and did I not then walk from that pyre unburnt?"
"But…" he stuttered.
"I danced among the shadows of Assai, fought and killed a Khal on the Great Grass Sea, wept at the great gates of Yin, and walked the street of Old Valyria while around me flames licked at my feet. I've died and been reborn, shut the blue eyes of a creature that has walked this world for more than 8,000 years and stopped his army of dead men in their tracks. Do you think I did any of that without my god's favor? Without his will? You think any of that was not part of a plan that only he knows?" Daemon asked looking at them both.
Arthur watched as Daemon took out his two swords and with barely a look at them they lit up. At first, there were simple flames and then a light so bright that he had to turn away and shield his eyes.
"My swords, my armor, my dragon, and those who follow me, all are because of my god. Oh, I played my part and mayhap it could only have been me who could do so. My mother and father's blood flows through my veins and I'm the only one in who it does so. Yet, I'm not a fool who doesn't know that had R'hllor not sent for me, I'd have achieved far less than I have. Trust me, my god has been playing Cyvasse with the world for millennia and before all is said and done, all will welcome that he's the very best player of the game there is. Because he's not the only one who's playing and not one of us could beat his opponent." Daemon said as he sheathed his swords and walked away from them both.
He'd not meant his questions as some attack on his god, and yet it seemed that had been how they'd been received. Moving to follow, he found himself being stopped by Jaime Lannister's hand and he almost glared at his former brother-in-arms.
"Let him be, for now, Arthur."
"I meant it not…"
"He knows."
Arthur looked at Daemon who'd taken a seat some distance from them, turning to look back at Jaime, he found his former brother's eyes to be not on their king but on him. He knew that given what Daemon had done and the reason for it, Jaime would mayhap be wondering about his thoughts on what he and his sister did. As much as he wished to tell him that he held it not against him, for now, the words wouldn't come and so they stood in silence for some time. Had anyone asked him, then what happened next would have been the last thing he'd have thought would have broken that silence.
Daemon began to take off his armor, difficult as that was for a man to do alone. Both he and Jaime looked on as piece by piece the armor fell to the ground. Once it was done, the clothing he wore underneath the armor was then removed piece by piece too. Turning his head, Arthur looked to see that Jaime wore the same perplexed expression that he was sure was on his own face. Not knowing if either of them should say anything, they remained silent, and then once Daemon had stripped to his small clothes, they watched as he walked to the edge of the island and then dived into the lake, quickly disappearing from their view.
"What in the seven hells?" he said as he raced to the edge of the lake and almost jumped in after his king, Jaime's hand stopping him once more.
"We have to have faith he knows what he's doing, Arthur," Jaime said and for a moment Arthur shuddered as he remembered Oswell saying the same words to him so many years ago about a different dragon.
Nodding his head, both he and Jaime looked to the now still water and looked for a sign that Daemon was well and that whatever he was doing had some merit to it. It took more than a few moments for him to reappear and when he did, he then simply took a deep breath and dived below the water once again. Four more times he did the same thing and yet it seemed there was not to be a fifth. Daemon when he reappeared looked to have either gotten it out of his system or mayhap he had found whatever it was he was looking for.
They watched him as he swam to the shore and it was his hand that helped him from the water. Daemon bore a true smile on his face and though he was soaking wet and the day was not a particularly warm one, he refused them leave to start a fire. Instead, he simply opened his hand and Arthur was stunned to see the two gems he held in his palm. One was as red as blood and matched almost perfectly the three that Daemon would wear about his neck, the other was as blue as the brightest sky and both of them sparkled almost unnaturally.
"Daemon's ruby," Daemon said and for a brief moment, Arthur thought he meant himself only for Jaime to gasp.
"The Rogue Prince."
"The very same, Ser Jaime."
"And the other?" Arthur asked curiously.
"Aemond's other eye," Daemon said shocking them both.
It took Daemon no time to dry and dress and Arthur then helped him back into his armor. He saw him attach the ruby to the chain that held the other tree and felt him shudder slightly as he did so. The blue gem, a sapphire, he still held in his hand and Arthur wondered what it was he was to use it for. Then to his complete surprise, Daemon placed the ruby onto his armor. Arthur had never even noticed that there was a gem missing from the armor until that point, and he'd inspected it thoroughly. Yet looking at it now with the sapphire set just above where Daemon's heart would be, he felt a fool for not noticing it before.
"How did you know?" he asked, even though the true question he wished to ask was how could a gem that had been lost in the God's Eye more than one hundred and fifty years ago be a missing piece of armor that according to Daemon had come from Valyria itself.
"I told you, my god has been playing this game for a very long time, Arthur," Daemon said almost smugly.
The sound of Lyanax flying above them and then landing was enough to stop any further conversation and they were flying away from the Isle of Faces no more than a few moments after Daemon had found the gems. Looking down at the island below them, Arthur was certain he saw what were children there, but he dismissed it, concentrating instead on what other things he may soon see as he served by his king's side.
King's Landing 301 AC.
Rhaegar.
Watching the joust was always a hard thing for Rhaegar to do. Memories would sweep over him of his own ride at Harrenhal and even more so, of Lyanna's. Beside him, Elia would reach out her hand and squeeze his own to show that she understood while should anyone look at him, they'd not see a sign of the inner turmoil he was going through. Among the many things that he looked forward to once they left this city, was the idea that he'd not need to attend another joust for the rest of his life if he deemed it so. So he felt he could forebear this one if it was truly to be his last.
Aegon sat with his daughter and her mother, both of whom would be joining them in Summerhall. There was no romance between them anymore and yet they seemed to be even closer because of it. Both of them doted on young Elia and in that they were not alone. His granddaughter had charmed her way into all their hearts and even Daemon would lose some of his seriousness when around her. Thinking of his second son, he turned his eyes to the sky, and for a brief moment, he thought he saw the shape of the black dragon. In the end, it turned out to be nothing more than a raven and he tried and failed not to let the old saying about them bother him.
"Dark wings, dark words," he whispered softly, and yet he didn't believe that to be true in this case.
Out on the tiltyard, they had reached the final four. Young Tommen Lannister had surprised everyone by making it to the previous round and had it not been Sandor Clegane that he faced, then he'd mayhap have made it to this one too. Yohn Royce was as formidable as ever and the Blackfish as always seemed to defy his years. Yet it was Loras Tyrell who was the crowd's favorite and was he a betting man, would be his too. Rhaegar chuckled as Aegon handed Elia a treat, his granddaughter's face lighting up at the sweet tart that she'd just been given. He fought away the thoughts that she'd have known a lesser life had things not turned out how they did and instead just welcomed that the life she'd know from here on in would be a far better one.
"She hates it so." his wife whispered to him, "Watch as the horses ride towards each other," she added and he looked to his granddaughter rather than the field.
Elia had the right of it, as the horses came together and the lances crashed against the shields, his granddaughter winced and almost dropped her sweet tart. Rhaegar almost rose from his seat to go to her, but to his joy, he watched as Aegon lifted her onto his lap and whatever he said to her, brought out a most delightful laugh from the little girl.
"He's good with her," he whispered.
"And she's good for him, Rhaegar."
Turning his attention back to the field, he did so in time to see Yohn Royce fall to Sandor Clegane. Ser Loras rode out next with his flower in hand and when he rode and placed it in his granddaughter's hand, Rhaegar wasn't alone in cheering the young man wildly. It made him an even firmer favorite in the watching crowd's minds and when he then took his match in the fourth tilt, the cheers were as loud as any he could remember.
The final tilt was a true contest and one that was even right up to the point that it was not. Loras' strike was a thing of pure beauty and as Sandor Clegane was unhorsed, Rhaegar looked to Barristan who nodded appreciatively. To no one's surprise, Loras presented the crown to his sister and named her his queen of love and beauty and then Myrcella rose to her feet to thank them all for coming and to wish them all good fortune in the years to come. With that, the final tournament that he ever intended to attend was over and the day, when he left this city behind, was now one day closer.
He saw it as they headed to the carriages, the black dragon flew high in the sky and he didn't need to look to his mother, daughter, sister, wife, or son to know that they were most happy to see Daemon return. Nor did he need to turn to see that Myrcella was happiest of all, but still he did so and it was as he did that he found his eyes drawn to Thoros, Melisandre, and Shiera and he liked their expressions not. Elia hurried him along and though he wished to go to the Dragonpit to welcome back his son, it was instead to the Red Keep that they went.
"Each time he flies off I fear it's the last I'll see of him," he said once he and Elia were alone in their rooms.
"Yet each time he returns, Rhaegar. Have faith that will always be so."
"I try," he said offering his wife a small smile.
Daemon came to see them later that night which surprised him somewhat. Things had been better between them since they'd spoken on Lyanna, though the distance between them was still one he wished to remove. He looked well, unhurt, and when he told him about the Maesters and what he'd done, Rhaegar judged him not. Other than Marwyn, he'd never trusted any of them and once again it seemed he'd been right not to. It took him a few moments to notice the sapphire on Daemon's armor and then a few more to wonder why he was still wearing it and hadn't changed.
"Where did you get that?" he asked pointing to the sapphire.
"The Gods Eye." Daemon replied and Rhaegar shook his head in disbelief, it was not to be the last time he did so that night "It belonged to Aemond." Daemon said as he pried it off his armor and handed it to him.
He felt it immediately, the power that came from it was like a tangible thing. Looking to Daemon, he could see that his son was pleased that he'd noticed it too. Something he confirmed less than a moment later.
"You feel it."
"I feel it."
"Feel what?" Elia asked.
"The magic contained in the gem. I know not what it does yet, only that it and this." Daemon said tapping his armor "Were always to be joined together. Just as the five rubies were always to be worn as one."
"Daemon?" Elia asked confused.
"Magic is a true thing, Elia. Dragons, Valyrian swords and armor, Glass Candles and so much more, all of them contain some magic within them. It's in our blood." Daemon said looking at him "In my mother's blood. In yours too, Elia."
"Mine, how?" Elia asked curiously.
"The Rhoynar," Rhaegar said and Daemon nodded.
"Their magic is powerful but it's been diluted over time. Our own and the Starks is purer, less tainted."
"Tainted?" Elia asked somewhat angrily.
"By non-magical blood. Think of it like a glass of water and then you add a drop of blood into it." Daemon began "A single drop has little effect, but what if you add another and another and then another. Eventually, the water is no longer clean and pure. Our House married brother to sister for generations, true we married outside too, but not as much as House Martell did."
"House Stark married outside their own blood, Daemon," he said and Elia nodded.
"True, but they had something that House Martell did not." Daemon said almost as if he was a Maester about to teach them an important lesson "The favor of the Old Gods. As did all the First Men."
He found himself enraptured as Daemon spoke more and more. All his life he'd been fascinated by prophecy and magic and had thought himself so very clever when in truth he had taken a wrong turn and in doing so, had walked the wrong path. He'd been close, so very close. Lyanna, the Song of Ice and Fire, the Prince that was Promised, he'd almost cracked it and yet in the end he'd very much not. It had taken his son to do so and it was yet another thing that he was so very proud of his boy, of her boy, for.
"You're leaving aren't you?" he said when Daemon was finished, "Before we go?"
"No, I'll remain to see you off, but yes, I'm, leaving," Daemon said and Rhaegar was not alone in sensing his reluctance to do so.
"Do you have to, Daemon? Does it have to always be you?" Elia asked.
"I serve my god, Elia. Three sets of eyes I have to close before I'm done with the task he gave me, blue ones now see no more but red await, and white will follow."
"Where?" he asked.
"Essos"
"You'll bring a large force to bear?"
"The Fiery Hand, the Unsullied, and my brother by choice will have his own men to call upon," Daemon said with a soft smile.
"Brother by choice?"
"Khal Drogo, the Khal of Khals. He serves his own god as I do mine."
"The Great Stallion," Rhaegar said and Daemon chuckled.
"Another time, another place, and you and I would have had so much to speak on, father. Is it wrong of me that I wish it was so?"
"If it is then I'm as wrong as you are, son."
Daemon nodded and then there was silence for some time, his son then walked over and hugged them both. He couldn't truly remember the last time they'd done so and wasn't even sure if Daemon had ever initiated a hug, though to his shame he did remember refusing them when his son was but a boy.
"Your guards will arrive on the morrow, I'll introduce you to them and their leaders. From then on they'll answer only to you, even above me. Listen to their warnings should they give you any, the Fiery Hand especially, as they like me walk with a god's favor."
With that, his son turned and walked from the room and Rhaegar moved to offer his wife the comfort that he so wished for himself.
"I have faith in him, Elia."
"As do I."
When they went to their bed that night, he offered a prayer to a God that he'd never believed in but one he knew now existed. He asked him to keep his son in his favor and to let him know many more years to come. Told him that should he feel the need to take someone from this world then he was to take him. As he moved to blow out his candle, he swore he heard a voice speak. The words were whispered softly but were ones that he heard clearly.
" He is my chosen and I chose him for a reason. None can stand in his way, none will stand in his way, and when he finally falls it'll be into my warm embrace."
Myr 301 AC.
Oberyn Martell.
He'd expected some anger or even disappointment from Doran when he'd arrived back in Dorne, and yet his brother expressed neither. For once Doran didn't consider the politics first, instead just as Oberyn had during the Small Council meeting, Doran expressed his own anger at Dorne's shaming. When he told him how Elia and then Rhaenys had acted, Oberyn had rarely seen his brother more disgusted with a member of their House. Unlike him, Doran was not one for ranting and so he only voiced rather than shouted out his words.
For three days, they then went back and forth over what to do. War was now inevitable, they had been left with no other choice and yet both of them were not fools, they understood that as things stood it was not a war that Dorne could win. In front of his girls, his love, his sister, and his niece, Oberyn may have acted as if he thought that way, but in truth had it not been for Malaquo Maegyr, then he would have been even more circumspect in his dealings with the bastard king.
Without the backing of his ally in Volantis, it would have been either through poison or ambush that he'd have sought to take Daemon Targaryen from this world. At one point, he'd believed that his spear and he himself would be more than a match for the bastard, though their spar had removed that notion from his head. He and his brother had spent their days and nights locked away and he only joined Ellaria when it was time for him to seek his bed. They'd gone over marching routes that would keep them as safe from the dragon as possible, worked out their targets and where to strike that would be most effective, and figured out just how many men, how much coin, and how quickly a victory could be won.
A long drawn-out war was as bad for them as a single battle. Either one gave the dragon too much of an advantage and so it was hit and move, attack and beat the defenders they faced quickly, and most of all, it was hostages. They needed something to stay Daemon's hand should it come to it. His wife, his grandmother, his aunt and uncle, or even their own kin if need be. Summerhall was circled on the map as was Dragonstone and King's Landing. Even Winterfell was considered, as the North was still one of the weakest of the seven kingdoms and Daemon had shown them far too much favor. More than any of them though, Riverrun was a place that Oberyn had circled twice. Brandon Stark was young and green and should it come to it, that keep would fall easier than most.
" Which of them brother?" Doran asked after he'd finished marking them out and laying down the numbers it would take to capture each of them.
" All, with King's Landing last, brother. I'd seek to take it first and foremost, but the dragon is already there and we need him away from the city and to react to our attacks, not to be sitting in one place awaiting them," he said.
" And our friends in Essos?"
" Will be the vanguard and the distraction," he said smiling.
Five days after he'd returned to Dorne, Oberyn then readied himself for another journey. This one would truly place them on the road to war and the Iron Throne. No longer would they wait for Rhaenys to take up the place they had sought for her, nor would it be a dragon that sat on the throne when the fires eventually stopped burning. A Martell as King or Queen was what they'd sought when Elia had married Rhaegar. It was what they'd sought when they'd decided on Rhaenys rather than Aegon. Now it would be what they achieved when this war was won.
With his ship ready, he said his goodbyes to Ellaria and his girls. While he'd not be able to stop his daughters from joining him in the battles to come, he wished for them to spend the days before then just being the young girls they were. To be amongst their family and enjoy the simple pleasures of life for now, because though he was certain they'd be victorious, he was not a fool who believed they'd not lose some of those they loved in the process. Friends, family, loved ones, he may wish it not to be so, but he was a man, not a god, and only the gods truly decided who lived or died.
It was as the ship was about to set sail that the letter arrived, its words changing his destination and he was relieved he'd received it in time. Malaquo had traveled to Myr to meet with the Golden Company and had sought him or a representative of their House to join him there for the negotiations. Had he not done as he'd done in King's Landing, it would have fallen to Quentyn to travel instead of him. Oberyn now believed that this was a sign from Mother Rhoyne that the path he'd chosen was the right one for Dorne and House Martell.
"Good fortune, Oberyn," Doran said after he'd handed him the letter.
"Good fortune, brother."
He didn't look back at the docks at his girls and his love, he feared had he done so then he'd have lacked the strength of will to do as he must. Instead, with a nod to Ser Daemon, he walked from the deck and down the stairs to his cabin where for the next two nights, he went back and forth over his battle plans and played cyvasse with anyone he could. The game was a decent tactical tool when it came to battle and it allowed you to picture in your mind's eye how things may play out. Oberyn hampered himself and at no point did he play with a dragon in his ranks, instead concentrating on how best to take down the dragon in his enemy's.
When he arrived in Myr it was to no welcome and he was most glad of it. He and Daemon, along with his guards, disembarked and made their way to find their accommodation for their stay, a stay he hoped was not to be a long one. They'd no sooner done so than some men from the Golden Company came looking for him and within two hours of arriving in Myr, he was riding on a horse away from the city and towards where the Golden Company were camped.
The sight he saw when he arrived there was one that left him a little awestruck. More than 20,000 men at arms, at least a dozen or maybe two, war elephants, and numerous what looked to be mobile scorpions. Ser Daemon probably wore a bigger smile than even Oberyn did when he saw them. It showed just how far the Golden Company had come from the last time that Oberyn had encountered them when he himself was selling his sword in Essos. Though the more he thought about that time, the more he was now certain that he hadn't truly seen their true strength then.
"The Captain General and the Triarch await you in the command tent, Prince Oberyn." the large pockmarked-faced mercenary said after he and Daemon had dismounted.
"Lead the way, good man," he replied happily.
He passed the spikes that bore the golden skulls of the former Captain Generals of the company and he wondered which of them was Bittersteel himself. Ahead of him, the flaps of the large tent were opened and he entered to find a scene that showed the true opulence of the men who had risen highest in the ranks. Oberyn had always known that each member of the Golden Company wore a king's ransom in gold about their person. He'd known too that a golden ring around their arms signified their length of service. The four men that sat with Malaquo all wore far more golden rings than he could count at first glance.
"Ah, Prince Oberyn, you received my message," Malaquo said rising to his feet.
"I did, Triarch."
"Let me introduce you to these fine men. Harry Strickland, Captain General of the Golden Company" Malaquo said pointing to a man who was as old as Oberyn and was losing his hair "Lysono Marr, the Spymaster of the company, " a silver-haired Lyseni nodded at the mention of his name, "Black Balaq, the Serjeant of the Archers" who was a white-haired Summer Islander, "And lastly Gorys Edoren, the paymaster." Malaquo pointed to a red-headed cadaverous-looking man who smiled mirthlessly.
"It's a pleasure to meet you all," he said as jovially as he felt and then he took the offered seat and the wine and food that was soon brought to him.
For the next few hours, they spoke firstly of Daemon and his dragon and it soon became clear to him just how much the Golden Company hated him. They then moved on to the numbers of the men that they could count on and Daemon's own numbers. Oberyn was more than happy to find out that in total, they'd have more than 70,000 men to call upon. Dorne, the Golden Company, Volantis' Tiger Cloaks, and other sellsword groups.
The cost however was substantial and it was not only coin and wealth that the Golden Company sought. They wished for lands and titles too and Oberyn had to intervene and deny them some of their more outlandish requests. Highgarden and Casterly Rock were far too valuable to be gifted to sellswords, Riverrun and Dragonstone on the other hand were more than acceptable. When it came to talking about how to deal with the dragon, he was surprised when another man was sent for. More so by the Tyroshi and the Warlock that soon joined them in the tent.
"Ah, Daario, Prince Oberyn wished to know about the dragon. Mayhap you and Pyat Pree could tell him how that'll be accomplished.
"We'd be delighted to, Triarch." the blue-haired Tyroshi said smiling a full and what looked to Oberyn to be a true smile as he did so "Delighted."
King's Landing 301 AC.
Myrcella.
She and her mother hadn't spoken much since she'd come to visit her, not because Myrcella didn't wish to, but more it was how busy she was. That she was feeling somewhat ill as well didn't help, though she put that down to missing her husband more than anything else. During the joust, she more than once felt her stomach feel as if it was doing tumbles and thankfully Rosamund was the only one to notice as the others were enjoying the day too much to do so. Her cousin made sure she had cool water to drink and even brought her some bread and cheese to help settle her stomach.
Watching Loras Tyrell win, Myrcella found herself smiling at the thoughts of Margaery being crowned as the queen of love and beauty. She and the older girl had become far more friendly as of late and other than Sansa or Rosamund, there was no other she'd rather see honored so. She noticed too that Ser Barristan seemed to watch Loras with a keen eye. So once she'd brought the tourney to an end and was heading back to her carriage, eager to get back to her rooms and take a small nap, she asked the knight what he thought of the joust and its victor.
"Ser Loras rode well, your grace. I wager he'd give myself or even Arthur a true contest where we to face him in a tilt." Ser Barristan said.
"And the man himself, Ser Barristan, what think you of him?"
"He's a good lad, talented with a sword, though from what I hear his brother Ser Garlan is even better than he."
"And would he be someone you'd consider for the order?" she asked as they neared her carriage.
"He would and is, your grace."
She smiled at that, he'd make a fine member of the Kingsguard to her mind, and politically it was a good move too. Not that Daemon truly cared about politics when it came to the safety of their House. They did have a need to fill out the seven and it would have been done by now had she and Daemon not taken the throne. So Myrcella resolved to speak to her husband about it when he returned only for R'hllor to bless her by making that return to be even sooner than she hoped.
"To the Dragonpit, your grace?" Barristan asked as they saw Lyanax fly overhead.
"Indeed Ser," she replied eagerly.
They arrived at the Dragonpit just after Daemon's grandmother and Ser Bonifer. Looking at her husband and Ser Arthur, Myrcella could see no signs that things had gone bad on their faces. When her eyes caught her father's, she almost stumbled, for it was the first time she'd truly thought of him as that. Up until now, he had always been, and she believed in her heart he always would be, her uncle. Yet looking at him, she for some reason named him as her father and it confused her a little. She was still confused somewhat when she felt Daemon's arms wrap around her and his lips on hers.
"Gods I missed you." Daemon said, "Cella?"
"I missed you too, so much." Myrcella shook the confused thoughts from her head and just welcomed being back with her husband and in his arms once more.
They spoke little as they made their way to the carriage and it was only after they got into it that she noticed the blue gem on Daemon's armor. Reaching out to touch it, she felt a jolt run down her arm and pulled her hand away as if it had been burned.
"Cella?" Daemon asked worriedly.
"The gem, Daemon, where did it come from?"
He explained it to her as they rode back to the Red Keep and she found herself stunned to hear not only who it had belonged to, but where Daemon found it. When he told her how it fit perfectly onto his armor, she wondered how that could be and then listened as her husband told her that his god had somehow planned all of this. She watched as he showed her the chain he wore under his armor, the fourth ruby on it now and before he had finished speaking, she knew what he was about to say.
"You're leaving again, aren't you?" she asked accusingly.
"I believe so. I need to look to the fires and speak to Thoros and Melisandre, but I've seen the red eyes in my dreams, and finding this" he said as he held the ruby in his hand, "Only makes it clear the time is almost upon me once more."
"But you've only just returned," she said and hated the way she sounded so childish as she did so.
"I know. I like it not, Cella, truly. I wish it was not what I had to do, but I'm just a servant to R'hllor's will and it falls to me to close these red eyes as it did the blue ones and as it will the white ones when the time comes."
Despite not wishing to do so, she acted even more like a child and refused to speak to her husband for the rest of the carriage ride. When they arrived at the Red Keep, she climbed out of the carriage and left Daemon behind in her hurry to her room. The tears came as soon as she closed the door behind her and the sickness came almost at the same time. One moment she'd been crying her eyes out and the next she was running for the privy and was soon emptying her stomach.
Daemon arrived when she was in the midst of doing so and she welcomed his hands as they both held her hair back from her face and rubbed her back softly. He didn't say anything until she was finished and then rather than speak, he took off his chain and placed it around her neck. After a moment or two, she heard him breathe a relieved breath and he took the chain back off her, before then helping her to their bed. She drank the water he gave her and tried to wave off the suggestion of Marwyn coming to examine her, but her husband was having none of it.
"You're ill, Cella, let's make sure it's just something simple, it'll put both our minds at ease."
"Lay with me until he arrives. Hold me, Daemon, I've missed it so." she said softly and a moment later she was being comforted by her husband's arms once more "All went well?" she asked when she felt more relaxed.
"It's done, neither you nor your mother ever needs to fear anyone speaking of your truth."
"And us?" she almost whispered.
"Cella?"
"My husband has been forced to kill for me, Daemon, all to keep a secret that changes who I am, does this not change things? Change how you feel about me?" her worried words only made him hold her more tightly.
"Nothing could ever change how I feel about you, Cella, nothing. I've not known such joy as what you bring to me, never doubt that or think that's not the complete truth. I love you, nothing will change that, nothing." Daemon said determinedly.
It made her wish to lay together properly, to feel his touch, and to know the pleasure that their coupling always brought to her. The knock on the door however put that out of the question for now and she almost asked him to send Marwyn away. She would have if she believed he'd have allowed her to do so, but not even her asking him would see to that. Instead, she welcomed the Grandmaester in and was somewhat embarrassed when he asked her to undress.
For the next hour or so, she was poked, prodded, touched in places that only Daemon or her own fingers had touched, and asked more questions than she'd ever been at one sitting before. Eventually, the Grandmaester nodded and then he smiled a true smile. Which on Marwyn's face was not a pleasant sight.
"You are with child, your grace. Three moons I wager."
"For true?" Daemon said excitedly.
"For true, your grace."
"And my wife, the babe, both are well?"
"As well as can be expected, your grace. There are some foods her grace should avoid and she needs to take it somewhat easier in her daily routine, there are also some ointments and salves that will help with some of the pains she'll soon begin to feel."
"Pains?" Daemon asked angrily.
"Natural in the bearing of a babe, your grace."
She barely heard any of it, didn't even remember seeing Marwyn leave or Daemon remove his armor. Instead, she lay on the bed almost in a state of shock and had Daemon not lay down beside her and taken her into his arms once more, then she'd mayhap have lain like that for some time.
"Cella?"
"I… we….we're going to have a babe, Daemon." she said joyfully as the smile came to her face "We're going to have a babe."
King's Landing 301 AC.
Daemon.
A father. He was going to be a father. As his wife slept, Daemon couldn't stop the thought from running through his mind. Never had he even thought of such a thing when he was far from home. Not even when he met Talisa and felt the first stirrings of love did he let his mind go to what the outcome of that love may one day lead to. He wondered if that was because of his unresolved feelings about his own father or was it because of the path he'd already begun to walk.
When he met and then knew he wished to wed Myrcella, even then it was simply her and not a thought of a son or daughter of theirs that his thoughts went to. Had it not been for what Shiera told him after Bloodraven had fallen, he would mayhap have not considered it for years to come. Even that though was almost like a dream of things to come more than the truth of them. That truth was now here and she lay in his arms, arms that were wrapped protectively around her and clasped together at her belly along with her own.
Had he yet another reason to do what he must and do so quickly, then this would have been it. Yet he was loathed to even begin to think of the battles to come. Reluctantly, very reluctantly, he moved his hands from her and carefully climbed out of the bed. Moving the blankets to cover her, he looked to Ghost, who with a grace that Daemon himself did not possess, quickly took his place beside his wife, his snout now resting where Daemon's hand had been but a moment earlier. Moving from the room, he made his way to the hearth and cut his finger, letting the blood drip into the flames.
It had been as he'd expected, the red eyes had been opened and they were on the march. He and Drogo would soon be fighting in a battle that both had known was coming one day. Daemon took some comfort in that, in facing this threat with his brother by choice and in knowing that together they'd close those red eyes forever. As he went to move from the fire, he saw white eyes open and though he couldn't see where they were, he did see the man who led them and he felt his anger begin to rise. The flames rose too almost in response and he heard R'hllor in his head once more.
" Anger does not serve you well, be calm, be at peace, and let your flames only become an inferno at the right time."
He calmed at the words and watched the flames retreat back to normal.
"As you command, R'hllor," he said softly.
There was much to do, so he sent for Thoros and Melisandre and found out they'd already begun preparations. In less than a week, he'd be sailing east once more, and this time he'd be bringing all his forces in Essos to bear. The Fiery Hand, the Unsullied, all of them would be joining with Drogo and his Khalasar and together he'd match them against anyone. After sending Melisandre and Thoros away, he made his way back to his and Myrcella's bed and Ghost, just as he had done earlier, reluctantly gave up his place beside his wife.
"Dae.."
"Sleep, my love," he said when she called out his name.
His own sleep was filled with dreams not of his wife or children to come, nor of red and white eyes, but of a battle fought above the God's Eye and two dragons and their riders falling.
He saw his namesake pluck out Aemond's sapphire eye as the two dragons crashed to the ground, the Rogue Prince laughing as he threw it into the water below. The chain containing the ruby that he'd found on the bottom of the lake could barely be seen around his namesake's neck and Daemon wondered if he'd felt the power of it as he himself had.
In the blink of an eye, he was under the water, swimming down to the bottom and seeking out the red gem. It had taken him more than one try to find it and even after doing so, he'd gone back another time looking for he knew not what. The sapphire had almost called to him and from the moment he picked it up, he knew it was and always had been meant to be worn as part of his armor. How it had come to be in Aemond's eye? he knew not, but as he'd said to Arthur and Jaime, he had no doubt it was all part of R'hllor's plan.
He was woken by Myrcella getting out of the bed and racing to the privy, Daemon rushing after her and holding her hair back as she once again loosed the contents of her stomach. Not that there was much in her stomach to lose. Once she was done, he poured her a mug of water and sent for her ladies to help her dress or not. They'd not lain together the previous night and as they waited for Rosamund and the others to arrive, Myrcella said how much she had wished to.
"Then mayhap we should take an early night tonight?" he said garnering a true smile in return.
"We should. Do you wish to tell people? Should we do so together?"
"How about I tell my family and you tell yours, that way we can do it in half the time?"
"Or we could just gather them all together?"
"It may take longer to do so and we have far less time than I wish," he said and hated seeing the frown that appeared on her face.
"How long?"
"A week, no more," he said and watched as she bit down on her lip.
"You'll take Arthur?
"I will."
The relief that came over her features was a palpable thing and within moments she was resolved and composed once more. She asked him what he thought of Ser Loras for the Kingsguard and he told her that Aegon named him good and true and had wished him to serve when Ser Daemon had been dismissed. When she thought that meant he was dismissing him, he made it clear he was not. He and his brother had talked much on many things these last few weeks and moons and that was just one of them.
After resolving to leave it to Arthur and Barristan to decide and then making it clear he had no problem with the Highgarden knight, Rosamund and Margaery arrived before they could speak on too much more. He kissed his wife goodbye for now and listened as she told her ladies to arrange for her family to expect a visit from her and then he walked from the room and readied to tell his own family the good news.
Unsurprisingly it was to his grandmother he went to before anyone else. Daemon and Arthur walked together through the Red Keep to her rooms and as they walked he asked about Ser Loras.
"He's a good knight, a little flashy and quick-tempered, but a decent enough lad at the heart of it all. If you have no objection, your grace?"
"I don't."
"Then I'd be more than happy to offer him the white cloak," Arthur said and Daemon nodded.
"It'll need to be done before the week is over, Arthur. We'll be traveling east by then."
"We, your grace?" Arthur asked.
"I understand it now, so it will be we, Arthur. Just be ready for things you may not believe and listen to Thoros and me when we explain them. The enemies we fight are not the same as the ones you've known, though I doubt they'll find themselves any luckier than those ever did." he said and saw the brief smirk on Arthur's face.
His grandmother was happy to see him and more so when he told her that it had been taken care of and done so easily. Taking his seat, he bid Bonifer stay and then readied to tell them both first the bad news and then the good. Hoping that was the best way to do so.
"The time is almost upon me to leave again, grandmother." he began.
"But you've only just returned."
"I know, but red eyes have already opened and are on the march and the white ones won't be far behind them. I found the fourth ruby." he said showing her the chain, "Which is what I've long been told will be enough to shut these eyes for god, I need a fifth, but Melisandre says that Shiera knows its location and she will be traveling there while we travel east."
"East? The battle is in Essos, Daemon? "Bonifer asked as Daemon reached down to take his grandmother's hand in his.
"It is, I have allies there, Bon. Mine own men, which are almost 9,000 strong, and the Khalasar of my brother by choice, Khal Drogo, which was close to 70,000 at last count."
"70,000?" Bonifer said shocked.
"A far larger army and far better equipped than the one Thoros and I fought with Beyond the Wall, Bon."
"I hate that you need to fight at all, Daemon." his grandmother said and he squeezed her hand before bringing it to his lips and placing a kiss on it.
"It's the one thing I'm good at, grandmother," he said with a chuckle.
They spoke more about the battle he was heading off to take part in, his grandmother wishing to know as much as he could tell her about it. Once he was done, they then spoke on Oberyn and Bonifer informed him that he'd set sail from Dorne and to Essos.
"Who would he ally with in Essos, Daemon?" his grandmother asked.
"The Magisters, mayhap the Triarchs, though were I to wager I'd say it was the Golden Company."
"Could it be them all?" Bonifer asked to a gasp from his grandmother.
"It could. But Essos is not like Westeros, Bon. There are few standing forces while the Magisters and Triarchs have much wealth, they don't have men they can call upon. Instead, they buy them."
"I thought the Triarchs have their army, the Tiger something or other?" his grandmother asked.
"Slave soldiers, grandmother, and nine out of every ten of them follow the same god as me."
"R'hllor's chosen." his grandmother said relieved.
"I'll send word to Kinvara in Volantis, find out what Oberyn has been up to. The Golden Company is based in Myr and has a contract with the city and they claim their word is as good as gold." he said scornfully "Should they move, then we'll know he's brought them to his side."
"Those shadows you use, Daemon, would it not be best…"
"If they have contacted the Golden Company, then I'll see them all dead, grandmother. As it stands for now it's only Oberyn who deserves it."
"They all deserve it." his grandmother spat.
"I.."
"Daemon?"
"I'd not truly come to talk to you about this, I knew I had to and so I wished it out of the way before I told you some happier news." he smiled at his grandmother who looked at him curiously "Myrcella is with child, grandmother."
"Oh, my sweet boy, congratulations Daemon, to both of you. She is well, your wife is handling it well?" his grandmother was exuberant.
"She is, though she no doubt needs those around her who have been through childbirth and the bearing of a babe."
"And she'll certainly have it, Daemon. She'll grow tired of my presence and I'll care not." his grandmother japed.
"You are pleased?" he asked shakily.
"More than pleased, grandson, I am delighted for you both, truly I am."
Six days later.
Not one member of his or Myrcella's family hadn't been pleased by the news. Lord Tywin was probably the happiest of all of them and whatever gap there remained between Myrcella and her mother, was a much narrower one now. He'd spent as much time with her as he could, cramming in as many fun activities as he did work and preparing for his journey east. His departure had turned out to be the last in a long line of them.
The Unsullied and Fiery Hand members he'd sent for had arrived and so his father, brother, niece, Elia, and his niece's mother had all said their goodbyes and were now on the road to Summerhall. Daemon promised them he and Myrcella would travel there often in the future and he hoped it was a promise he could live up to. His uncles, cousins, and the rest of the lords and ladies of the North had all departed too and Daemon had hated that he'd not had much time with any of them really. Again he promised to travel with Myrcella to Winterfell and to do a Royal Procession through the North in the near future, once again hoping it was a promise he could keep.
Sansa had asked for and been allowed to serve as one of Myrcella's ladies in waiting and his wife had confided in him that a match was being discussed between her and Aurane Velaryon. Something that his cousin seemed most pleased by and which his uncle and aunt were not against, much to his surprise. Upon his uncle's return to the North, a delegation would be sent to the King beyond the Wall and Daemon wished he was here to both oversee it and to be ready to mediate if need be. Alas, it was not to be and he'd be far from Westeros while the negotiations took place.
Shiera had set sail for Dorne with a sizeable and capable escort and Asher Forrester had finally said his goodbyes to him, Davos, his sons, and Grey Worm. Soon enough he and Gwyn Whitehill would be wed and be the lord and lady of their own keep and though he was sad to see him go, he was much too happy for him to ask him to stay. Not that he'd not suggested he would, but Daemon refused him leave to. He may be forced to part from the woman he loves, Asher though had been parted from his own love for far too long.
Davos had readied the ships, though Daemon would leave most of the one hundred Unsullied who'd traveled with Grey Worm and the members of the Fiery Hand who'd come after them, at their posts in King's Landing. Thoros, Melisandre, Davos, his sons, Grey Worm and Arthur would all be joining him and while Ser Loras meant that the number of Kingsguard remained the same, he was a poor substitute for the one he was taking to Essos with him.
The time however had come for saying his goodbyes and he could put it off no longer. Almost all the people he cared about in the world were standing at the docks and it almost tore his heart in two to leave them behind. His grandmother, sister, aunt, uncle, and wife, each of them bore the same look on their faces as he moved toward them.
"I walk with a god's favor, grandmother. He brought me back to you and he'll bring me back again," he said as he embraced the woman who'd been everything to him for most of his life.
"Return to us, Daemon, all of us, she needs you as much as I do, we all do." he nodded to her as he moved then to his sister.
"I leave the running of the realm in your capable hands, sister mine. I can think of no one better equipped or more suited to the task."
"I shall do my best in your stead, brother. Comfortable in the knowledge that my task is but a temporary one."
"Learn as much as you can, uncle, we'll speak together you and I on my return," he said to Viserys as they patted each other on the back.
"I look forward to it, nephew."
"No, no tears, aunt, this is but a temporary parting and I take comfort in knowing that those who have the least will have no greater champion than my fierce aunt," he said wiping the tear that fell from Daenerys' cheek before then kissing that cheek.
"Hurry home, Daemon."
His wife was teary-eyed and he could see the way her lip quivered. Moving to her, he took her in his arms and kissed her as deeply and as passionately as he could. Both of them were somewhat breathless when he moved from her and he was glad to see the tears had not been shed.
"I promise to return to you, my love. Nothing in this world or the next will stop me from keeping that promise. I love you, Cella, with all that I am, I love you."
"I love you too, Daemon. Be sure to keep your promise, as you have each promise you've ever made me."
"I will," he said as he kissed her again.
Daemon stood on the deck of the ship, Lyanax flew in the sky above his head and though he wished more than anything to look back or even to never leave in the first place, his path was one forged many years earlier. Reaching his hand to the chain and feeling the rubies in his palm, he closed his eyes and spoke not to man or woman, but to a god.
"I am yours to command, R'hllor," he said and he could feel his god's joy at his words.