102 AC
Four months passed, and summer deepened over King's Landing.
Daemion grew taller in that time. Broader in the shoulders. His hands hardened, his movements sharpened, and the yard began to greet him with fewer smiles and more measuring looks. Ser Steffon pressed him harder now, and Daemion met every demand without complaint.
On the last day of the fourth month, training ended early.
Ser Steffon had just called a halt when a royal page appeared at the edge of the yard, breathless and wide-eyed.
. "Daemion Waters. His Grace summons you to the King's solar."
Daemion wiped sweat from his brow. "Now?"
The page nodded.
Ser Steffon's expression did not change, but his eyes sharpened. "Go wash," he said. "And walk, don't run."
"Yes, ser."
The climb to the king's solar felt longer than usual. The corridors were quiet, the air heavy, as though the castle itself were holding its breath. When Daemion entered, Viserys was standing by the window, hands clasped behind his back, staring out over Blackwater Bay.
"Father," Daemion said, bowing.
Viserys turned and smiled at once, though the smile did not quite reach his eyes. "Come in, my boy."
Daemion did, stopping a few paces from the desk.
"You've been training hard," Viserys said. "Ser Steffon tells me you don't know when to quit."
Daemion allowed himself a small smile. "I like the work."
"I know." Viserys gestured for him to sit. "You remind me of myself at that age. Always trying to prove something."
Daemion sat. He waited.
Viserys took longer.
"At times," the king said slowly, "a man must think not only of what he wants, but of what will best serve those he loves."
Daemion felt a tightening in his chest.
"I have decided," Viserys went on, "that it is time you went to ward."
The words landed cleanly. Final.
"To the North," Viserys added. "To Winterfell. You will be under the care of House Stark."
Daemion did not speak.
"Your mother was from the North," Viserys said, as if the fact itself softened the blow. "It is a strong land. Honest. The Starks are loyal, honorable. You will be safe there. Well-trained. Well-taught."
Daemion's hands curled slightly against his knees. "How long?"
Viserys hesitated. "Some years."
"I see."
"You will not go alone," the king said quickly. "Ser Steffon will remain with you. He will continue your training. He will guard you as he always has."
Daemion looked up then. "Am I being sent away because I did something wrong?"
Viserys flinched.
"No," he said at once. "Never think that. This is not punishment."
"Then why?" Daemion asked.
The king searched for words and found none that satisfied him. "Because the world is… complicated," he said at last. "And I would spare you its worst cruelties for as long as I can."
Daemion nodded slowly.
"I will obey," he said.
The answer should have relieved Viserys. Instead it made his chest ache.
"You are my son," the king said quietly. "That will never change."
Daemion met his eyes. "I know."
And he did.
That was the cruelest part.
Viserys stood and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, squeezing once, firmly. "You will always have a place here," he said. "This is not exile."
Daemion rose. "Then I'll return stronger," he said. "Wiser."
Viserys smiled, this time for real. "I expect nothing less."
When Daemion left the solar, the corridor felt colder than before.
Ser Steffon was waiting for him at the stair.
"The North," the knight said, already knowing.
"Yes, ser."
Ser Steffon nodded once. "Then we'll make a man of you yet."
Daemion looked back only once, toward the heart of the Red Keep, where dragons slept and sisters laughed and childhood ended.
The road north was long.
And it had already begun.