â this will end in blood. the only question that remains is which side is willing to spill more. â + for daemon , from aegor rivers
somewhere in the memes tag // @maeikar
On his ninth nameday, three days hence, he was to be crowned king, with Visenya as his queen - the only thing that made it even slightly better. For now, everyone told him that all he had to worry about was serving as his uncle's squire, learning to fight and lead as the great Bittersteel did - actually being king would come later, as would his and Visenya's real marriage. For now, it was all just for appearances - problems for the Daemon of future years.
It should have been a relief, but he kept thinking that if his father hadn't been king, then he wouldn't have died. He had surrendered, and his cousin, the Pretender's son, had killed him, while Aegor Rivers had fought to the last and been taken alive. Or maybe it had been for surrendering - maybe they had just thought him weak enough to kill.
If that were the case, then Daemon could never be weak.
But his father wasn't weak, either, so it must have been because he was king.
Blood, his uncle said. Blood was what bound them - the blood in their veins, and the blood they shed for each other. When Visenya had pushed him down a week ago and he skinned his knee, did that count? When his mother had handed him a shard of dragonglass and he lightly scored his palm with a shaking hand, when Visenya furrowed her brow and made a quick cut to her own and pressed their hands together while tears welled in her lavender eyes, surely that did.
The cut on his palm still stung, though it had scabbed over quickly and Visenya's had had to be bandaged.
Whatever he was, whatever he would be, he would not be weak.
Daemon stood as tall as he could. "I'll spill as much of theirs as I can," he said, in a voice that he hoped sounded stronger and older than he felt. "They took my father. They killed the king. They have to die for it." He hesitated. "You'll help me, right?"