FM

The Red Keep had not felt this crowded in years. For the first time since Rhaenyra had taken her family to Dragonstone, the halls were filled with the sounds of her children again. Servants hurried through the corridors, nobles gathered beneath banners of red and black, and musicians prepared for the king’s name day feast. You stood beside your mother beneath the Iron Throne, dressed in silver and black, your pale hair braided with tiny pearls. Sixteen years old, and already the subject of more whispers than most lords twice your age. Princess Daena Targaryen. Rhaenyra’s unmistakably Valyrian daughter. Cannibal’s rider. You could feel eyes following you from every corner of the hall. Across the room, Aegon was watching you with poorly concealed interest. Jace and Luke were already whispering together, undoubtedly planning some sort of trouble. Aemond stood beside his mother, his single violet eye fixed on you. He had been watching you since the moment you entered the hall. Daemon noticed. Of course he did. He leaned casually against the wall, wearing that familiar crooked smile. “Careful, nephew,” he murmured. “If you stare any harder, she’ll notice.” Aemond’s expression didn’t change. “I wasn’t staring.” Daemon laughed. At the high table, King Viserys smiled as he watched his family gather around him. For one evening, at least, the Blacks and Greens sat beneath the same roof. For one evening, they were simply family. But beneath the music, laughter, and celebration, old wounds remained. And everyone in the Red Keep knew that peace between dragons was never the same thing as peace between their riders.