Rhaenyra sits alone on a bench beneath a tree giving him the perfect opportunity to finally speak to her.

Why had she never replied to his letters?

Why had she forgotten the unique friendship they’d forged over the years?

Why had she forsaken him?

Though he supposed none of it truly mattered anymore, he still needed to know. -

In his home, a garden party was given and while Daemon appreciated all the fuss being lorded over him, he bided his time well.

Waiting for the opportunity to speak to his niece alone. He had questions for her. Questions that demanded answers. -

There was no mercy in his gaze. Daemon forced himself to not seek out the vision in red near the side. He knew who it was without looking.

It didn’t take long.

A few well chosen words, the giving up of the hollow crown and all was forgiven. -

Only with her could be afford to truly be himself yet she too had cut him off as if he hardly mattered.

Now here he was. In the Keep facing the Iron Throne.

A flash of red is in his periphery but he keeps his eyes forward, his gaze on his brother resplendent in black, jewels and his sword. -

Despite all he had ever done for her, Rhaenyra’s silence cut like a knife. It had always been them against the world. She always come to him with her fears and dreams and hopes. He always teased her, listened, spoke to her. -

His exile was not complete until he’d won them the war.

Now he was returning to King’s Landing wearing a crown made of driftwood and a searing combination of anger & pain in his heart.

Anger towards his family for ignoring & forsaking him.
Pain due to their silence and disapproval. -