269 AC
Daemon Pov
Robert was no ordinary boy; he was like a tempest refusing to calm. The past three weeks had been a whirlwind of adventure and mischief. It was one of the most exhilarating periods of my life. Robert and I engaged in a myriad of games, causing chaos among the servants and headaches for our mothers. Our fathers watched with nostalgic amusement, reminiscing about their own youthful escapades.
While Robert embodied the storm, Stannis was his antithesis. He observed from a distance, silently observing our antics. My own brother, on the other hand, remained aloof, immersed in the library with Jon Connington.
But Robert and I paid little heed to their disengagement. We sparred in the godswood, he with his wooden hammer and I with my wooden sword. Despite his size advantage—he resembled a ten-year-old despite being only seven—Robert consistently bested me. Nevertheless, we reveled in the camaraderie.
During our epic skirmishes, we would assume the roles of historical figures. Robert would become Orys Baratheon, while I portrayed Aegon Targaryen, the first of his name. Then, our roles would reverse, with me as Maegor and him as Rogar.
I also enjoyed conversations with my uncle Steffon Baratheon, who regaled us with tales of the capital. Aerys, my 'father,' appeared pleased by these interactions.
And so the days slipped away until it was time for the Baratheons to depart.
Our family assembled at the docks for farewells. Father and Mother bid their adieus first. Then came Rhaegar, visibly uncomfortable from his distance during our interactions save for the shared suppers.
Finally, it was my turn. I bid farewell to Uncle Steffon and Aunt Cassana.
Glancing at Robert, I saw mirrored sadness in his eyes. He extended his hand for a handshake, but I pulled him into a hug instead. He embraced me back, and we promised to keep in touch through raven correspondence.
Next was Stannis, equally ill at ease like Rhaegar.
"Barry," I addressed my sworn shield as he approached, handing me my wooden sword.
"Stannis, I want you to have this," I said, passing him my sword.
He looked perplexed at the gesture. "Make sure to best Robert with it," I added, witnessing a rare smile on his lips for the first time.
The Baratheons boarded their ship, and we watched them sail away before making our way back to the Red Keep.
As the family gathered for supper, Father spoke up.
"Daemon, I am proud of how you conducted yourself in the past weeks. You showed yourself as a true prince of the blood," he said, his tone filled with pride.
I couldn't help but beam at his compliment.
"Rhaegar, there is much you could learn from your younger brother," Father added, his words laced with a hint of disdain, causing Rhaegar's expression to falter.
"Aerys," Mother interjected gently, a reproach in her tone.
"Silence, woman!" Father snapped, his temper flaring. "He is already ten-name-days old and all he does is bury himself in his books. He shows no interest in learning to defend himself."
"You are destined to be the King of the Seven Kingdoms once I'm gone. Do you think the lords will follow a king who can't even wield a sword?" Father's voice carried a heavy weight of expectation.
"Ser Gerold, from tomorrow, Rhaegar will be your squire," Father declared, turning to the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, who nodded in acquiescence.
"Ser Barristan, it's time Daemon begins his path to knighthood as well. He'll be your squire," Father continued, but Mother objected.
"Aerys, he's only five-name days old. Let us wait until he reaches seven -name days," she pleaded.
"Daemon excels in everything he does. I see no reason to delay his training," Father countered firmly.
"And Rhaegar, consider this a warning. If things do not change, I will name Daemon as my heir," Father's voice turned cold, chilling the room instantly.
Rhaegar's shock mirrored everyone else's. I stood there, speechless, as the weight of Father's words settled over us all.
After supper concluded, Mother summoned me to her chambers.
"Daemon, do not pay heed to your father's words," she began, her tone grave.
"He is a fool," she continued, her frustration evident.
"The last thing I want is for you and your brother to be pitted against each other for the throne," she expressed, her concern palpable.
"I know it may seem like a lot, but promise me you do not desire the throne," she implored.
"The Iron Throne belongs to the strongest, and I am stronger than Rhaegar. Once Father passes, I will claim it, and anyone who stands in my way will perish," I declared boldly. Mother's expression froze in shock at my words.
Seeing her reaction, I couldn't help but burst into laughter.
"I should become a mummer, shouldn't I, Muna?" I teased.
It was then she realized what I had done.
"Come here, you little rascal," she said, and I darted away from her, but being only five years old, she easily caught me. The "monster" began tickling me mercilessly, and I squirmed and giggled, attempting to evade her grasp.
After her sadistic tickling ritual ended, she pulled me close.
"Daemon, promise me you'll look after your brother," she pleaded.
"Muna, I promise you, no matter what, I will protect Rhaegar and if anyone hurts him then they will face my wrath Because 'Mine is the Fury".