As they walked withing the corridors of red keep garden, Alicent's gaze lingered on Daeron's back, and for the first time, she felt a flutter in her chest.
She watched as he laughed and spoke with Rhaenyra and Laena, his easy confidence and relaxed demeanor so different from the carefully constructed facades of court life.
Her hand subtly clenched to her chest, as if to still the sudden, erratic pounding of her heart. She looked away quickly, a flush creeping into her cheeks. What was this feeling? she thought, trying to suppress the confusion swirling within her.
She had always prided herself on her composure, on her ability to maintain control in any situation. Yet here she was, feeling utterly disarmed by this mysterious prince who seemed to care little for the rules that governed her world.
And there was the problem. Her father, Otto, had spoken of Daeron as a threat to the realm, a figure who could unravel everything they had worked for. But now, standing in the gardens of the Red Keep, Alicent felt her resolve faltering.
She couldn't deny the way her heart raced whenever Daeron spoke, the way his words seemed to bypass all her defenses and stir something inside her that she couldn't control.
He's nothing like the men I've been told to fear, Alicent thought, her mind racing. She couldn't stop the blush creeping up her neck as she tried to shake off the sensation.
"I can't… I shouldn't feel this way about him. He's an enemy!" But the more she tried to push the thoughts away, the stronger they seemed to grow.
As Daeron glanced over his shoulder, catching her gaze, there was a brief flicker of something in his eyes. His smile was almost enchanting, and for a moment, it seemed as though he had sensed her thoughts.
But then he turned away again, rejoining the conversation with Rhaenyra and Laena, his tone light and carefree, as though nothing had changed.
But for Alicent, everything had changed. She couldn't stop the warmth spreading through her chest, nor the fluttering sensation that made her feel both excited and unnerved. What was it about him? she wondered, her heart still racing.
She knew she shouldn't let herself be drawn in, not with the plans her father had in mind, not with the path Daeron seemed to be walking.
But it was hard to ignore the way he made her feel, like she was standing on the edge of something new, something dangerous, and yet strangely thrilling.
And for the first time in a long time, Alicent found herself questioning everything she had known about duty, about family, and about the mysterious prince who seemed to stand outside it all, living his life as he saw fit.
At the same time, as Daeron and the others continued their walk through the royal gardens, Rhaenyra also found herself increasingly intrigued by the young prince.
His polite distance and easy confidence had left an undeniable impression on her, one she couldn't shake.
There was a mystery about him that seemed to draw her in, a sense of self-assurance that wasn't based on boasting or outward displays of power, but rather on something untouchable.
Unlike the other men she had encountered, those who constantly tried to charm or flatter her, Daeron never seemed to be trying too hard.
He didn't make her feel like an object to be won or a prize to be claimed. His attention was never overbearing, but neither was it distant. It was as though he saw her just as a person, not a noblewoman to be courted or flattered into submission.
Rhaenyra couldn't quite explain why that made her feel more drawn to him. Perhaps it was the subtle yet confident way he carried himself, the way he walked beside them with a quiet grace, and how he never seemed overly impressed by his own power.
His dragon, Acnologia, was a beast like no other, a dragon so large, so fearsome, it could dwarf all others in both size and strength. And yet, Daeron didn't let the dragon define him.
When they spoke, it was never about his dragon's power or his status in Essos. It was always about living life on his own terms, making his own choices, and never letting the opinions of others dictate his path.
It was that very freedom, that refusal to be bound by the expectations of his blood or title, that drew Rhaenyra in.
She also found herself stealing glances at him when he wasn't looking, watching the way he carried himself, the easy way he moved through the gardens.
As the conversation shifted to lighter matters, Rhaenyra found herself laughing more than she expected. Laena had asked a question about Daeron's time in Essos, to which he replied with a story that made them all laugh, his tale of dodging pirate attacks and the dangerous but beautiful landscapes of the Rhoyne made them enthralled.
It wasn't the kind of thing she expected from a prince, and the fact that he had no airs about him only made her more curious.
Yet, despite the easy conversations between the group, there was something that didn't escape Rhaenyra's notice.
As they walked, she found that her best friend, Alicent, seemed unusually quiet, almost distracted. It was subtle at first, the way her eyes occasionally flicked toward Daeron, but it didn't take long for Rhaenyra to notice the intensity in her gaze.
Alicent was looking at Daeron in a way that made Rhaenyra uneasy—like she was admiring him, studying him in a way that went beyond simple curiosity.
The way her best friend's eyes lingered on him, the way her lips were pressed into a real smile whenever Daeron said something that made the others laugh, it all felt… off.
Rhaenyra couldn't place why it bothered her so much. There was something in Alicent's demeanor, something she hadn't seen before. A kind of vulnerability, or perhaps longing, that Rhaenyra wasn't accustomed to seeing in her .
The feeling only intensified when Daeron, noticing a sudden shift in the air, cast a casual glance back at Alicent, his expression unreadable.
Alicent quickly looked away, but not before Rhaenyra caught the faintest hint of a blush rising on her cheeks.
The subtle change was enough to make Rhaenyra's stomach twist with an emotion she couldn't quite name.
Is she… interested in him? Rhaenyra thought, her brow furrowing as she looked between Daeron and her friend.
She had never seen her like this before with any man. It was as if she had forgotten her place, like she was caught in a moment of admiration, or perhaps something more.
The realization hit her like a cold gust of wind. What if my best friend... has caught feelings for him?
Rhaenyra's chest tightened at the thought. She couldn't deny that Daeron was intriguing, and she could certainly understand why others might be drawn to him. But Alicent?
Alicent had always been a steady, composed figure, never easily swayed by the affections of men, and yet now she seemed almost… smitten .
She turned her attention back to Daeron, watching him as he spoke with Laena. His relaxed demeanor, the way he seemed completely unbothered by the tension in the air—it only made her more curious.
Her thoughts were interrupted as Daeron's voice broke through the tension. "It's a beautiful garden," he remarked, his eyes scanning the blooming flowers with a hint of admiration.
"But I suppose, in a place like this, you're not just admiring the scenery, are you? You're observing the people."
Rhaenyra blinked, caught off guard by his perceptiveness. She couldn't help but smile slightly, her curiosity growing further.
"Perhaps you're right," she said, meeting his gaze. "People are far more interesting than flowers."
Daeron's smile deepened, as though he appreciated her honesty. "Exactly. After all, what's the point of a beautiful garden if you don't have anyone to share it with?"
Rhaenyra felt a warmth spread through her chest at his word, but in the back of her mind, the uneasy feeling about Alicent lingered.
As the conversation moved on, Rhaenyra couldn't help but notice the way her friends eyes darted between them, and the small, almost imperceptible sigh she gave when Daeron wasn't looking.
For the first time in a long while, Rhaenyra felt a twinge of jealousy—a feeling she hadn't expected to feel. What is it about him that makes us both feel this way? she thought, her heart a little heavier with the weight of unspoken emotions.
And in the silence that stretched between them, Rhaenyra couldn't help but wonder if Daeron would change everything.
The next day, after the tense, simmering undercurrents of the dinner and the walk in the gardens , Daeron found himself in a more familiar setting—the training yard.
The sun had begun to dip below the horizon, casting a soft golden light over the stone courtyard as Daeron stretched his limbs, preparing for the upcoming duel.
He hadn't expected this encounter, but it seemed that Prince Daemon Targaryen had decided to make his presence known.
Daemon, as usual, stood with his typical air of smug superiority, his violet eyes gleaming with mischief.
He was dressed in a luxurious garb, his black leather armor gleaming in the fading sunlight. Daeron could already sense the challenge in his stance, the way Daemon seemed ready to provoke him.
"You've been causing quite the stir here, bastard boy," Daemon said, his voice dripping with condescension.
"First, you show up with that monstrous dragon of yours, and now they're calling you 'Savior Prince'—but I've yet to see you prove yourself with something more than your clever tongue."
Daeron raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms with an easygoing smile. "Is that so? I'd think my tongue isn't clever, rather I am. But I don't appreciate the poor method of provocation. Try better, Daemon the Rogue."
Daemon's lips twisted into a smirk. "It's your swordsmanship I'm curious about, boy. Carrying around a valyrian steel sword, but can you swing it even? Let's see if you can back up all those tales with more than words. I'll be the judge of that."
At this, Daeron's grin widened. "I wasn't aware I needed to prove myself to you, Daemon. But since you've made it so… personal, I suppose I can indulge you."
Daemon unsheathed his sword with a flourish, clearly enjoying the challenge. "Good. Show me what you've got, then. Don't disappoint."
Daeron smirked and thought, 'Not sure if I can take him head on, but I can probably beat him if I use my head.
All the years of practice, the guide book of swordsmanship, and the regular spars with Zhao Yun have honed my skills well, now it's time to test them against a proper opponent. Although I should play it safe.'
A crowd of spectators had gathered gathered by now, Rhaenyra, Alicent, Viserys, Aemma, and the Velaryons—all stood along the edge of the yard, watching with a mixture of curiosity and quiet anticipation.
Viserys arrived the last, he was not enthusiastic about the whole idea of using real swords for a duel. But Daeron ensured he wouldn't hurt Daemon too badly, earning him a scoff and a glare from the Rogue prince.
Rhaenyra's eyes were trained on Daeron, a spark of intrigue flickering in them as she waited to see how he would fare against her uncle Daemon.
The duel began with Daemon charging forward with a swift, almost reckless strike. He was known for his ferocity, and he wasted no time trying to land a blow. Daeron, however, simply sidestepped, his movements fluid and almost effortless.
It was clear that he wasn't rushing into anything, not with the same impulsiveness Daemon was known for. Instead, Daeron took his time, letting Daemon expend his energy with each wild swing.
Daemon grunted, clearly frustrated by the way Daeron kept avoiding him. "What's the matter, boy? Afraid to fight me head-on?".
Daeron chuckled, not even winded as he danced back a few paces, keeping just enough distance between them. "Afraid? I'm just letting you tire yourself out. Keep swinging like that, and you'll be begging for mercy soon enough."
The audience, who had initially expected Daeron to falter under Daemon's pressure, began to murmur in surprise. They hadn't anticipated him to be so composed.
Daemon's face twisted into a snarl. "Enough of this. Let's see if you can take a hit." With that, he lunged forward again, this time with a feint that Daeron almost didn't see in time.
But Daeron was fast, and he sidestepped once again, his sword coming up just in time to knock Daemon's blade off-course.
He followed up with a light tap to Daemon's ribs with the flat of his blade. Daemon staggered back, growling under his breath. "You think you can outsmart me with these little tricks?"
Daeron's smile never wavered. "I'm not outsmarting you, Daemon. I'm showing you I can beat you. Maybe try harder."
The battle continued, with Daemon pressing the attack harder, his movements growing more and more erratic with each failed strike.
Daeron had already figured him out—he was a beast of brute force and quite skilled with a blade as well , but he lacked the patience and restraint that Daeron had honed over the years.
He is still not the daredevil who jumps from dragon to dragon after all.
And then, just as Daemon thought he had Daeron cornered against the stone wall, something changed.
Daeron's footwork was lightning-quick, and with a single, fluid motion, he spun around Daemon, using his sword to make a feint , and then tripping him with his outstretched foot, sending him crashing to the ground with a deft movement that left the audience gasping.
In an instant, Daeron had his sword at Daemon's neck, standing over him, his smirk now fully in place.
The courtyard fell silent. Daemon, breathing heavily from the exertion and surprised by how quickly the tables had turned, looked up at Daeron with a mixture of disbelief, shock and anger.
"Do you feel beaten yet?" Daeron asked, his voice light and sarcastic, but carrying an edge of finality.
Daemon remained still for a moment, clearly calculating whether he wanted to admit defeat, but finally, he let out a snort . "I guess you have some surprises in you,Daeron. You have caught me off guard this time, it won't happen again."
Daeron stepped forward with his smirk, offering his hand to Daemon. "It was a good fight. You'll probably get me next time, if I don't practice anymore."
Daemon didn't take his hand immediately, but after a pause, he stood up, dusting off his tunic. He gave Daeron a sharp look, . "Next time, it will be different "
The crowd, who had watched in stunned silence, erupted into applause. Rhaenyra was the first to speak, her voice filled with admiration as she looked at Daeron.
"You were great Daeron!" she said, her eyes glowing. "I hadn't expected you to hold your own so well."
Alicent, though less overt with her praise, nodded in approval, her gaze lingering on Daeron longer than necessary. "You certainly proved your skills," she said softly, though her tone was measured.
Viserys, who had been watching with great interest, clapped his hands together. "Well done, Daeron. You've shown us all just what you're capable of. I think we're all in agreement that we underestimated your skills. In such an age, you can definitely be compared to a skilled knight, even a kingsguard."
Aemma also smiled warmly at Daeron. "It's good to see someone knock some sense into him."
The Velaryons, too, seemed impressed. Corlys, ever the quiet observer, gave a small nod of approval, while Laenor looked at Daeron with newfound respect. Rhaenys and Laena however, just huffed and thought, 'Boys and their ego!'
Daeron, feeling the weight of their eyes on him, allowed himself a small, self-satisfied smile. "I don't mind surprises," he said casually, wiping his sword clean and sheathing it. "It keeps things interesting."
As he turned to walk away, the group remained in the yard, still processing what they had just witnessed. Rhaenyra, however, couldn't stop her gaze from lingering on Daeron, a new level of admiration dawning in her eyes.
She wasn't sure if it was the display of skill, his quiet confidence, or something deeper, but one thing was certain. Daeron Penndragon had just earned a place in her thoughts.