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The morning light of the Red Keep arrived softly, filtering through the latticed window and carrying the faint scent of sulfur from the Dragonpit.
Daemon opened his eyes, intending to stretch, only to find the bed crowded.
Gael lay curled at his side, her pale violet dress brushing against his arm. Her breathing was even, a faint smile on her lips, clearly still asleep.
Mysaria was propped against the foot of the bed, holding the history book Daemon had left there last night—A History of the Seven Kingdoms, open to the chapter on Aegon's Conquest of the Riverlands.
Johanna lay on the other side, clutching an unfinished handkerchief embroidered with a crooked but earnest drawing of The Cannibal.
Most absurd of all was Jeyne Arryn. The little Lady of the Vale had somehow rolled into the middle of the bed, her small head resting on Daemon's waist, mumbling in her sleep about "Little Daemon's wooden dragons."
"Gods..." Daemon sighed helplessly, trying to extricate his leg from under Jeyne as gently as if he were trying not to startle a butterfly.
He remembered last night after the feast. Gael had brought Mysaria and Johanna to his room, claiming she was "afraid he'd be cold sleeping alone." Alicent had shown them the way with a knowing smile. Halfway there, they ran into Jeyne, who had snuck out claiming "Uncle Yorbert is taking me back to the Vale soon, I want to see Little Daemon."
The result was this pile of people in his bed. Even Brienne and Lia had been sent by Gael to guard her empty room, supposedly to "create an opportunity."
He glanced at the balcony and paused. Grey Ghost was curled up there, his pale grey scales glowing softly in the morning light. His head rested on his claws, and half a dried fish hung from his mouth—clearly a midnight snack.
Hearing Daemon stir, the dragon lifted his head, let out a soft purr, and buried his face again, the picture of innocence claiming to be "just sunbathing."
Suppressing a laugh, Daemon slowly moved to the edge of the bed. As he pulled on his tunic, he remembered the Small Council meeting.
Baelon would be discussing troop allocations for the United Fleet. Lyonel was waiting for him to confirm the Triarchy intelligence. But looking at the formation in his room, slipping out seemed impossible.
He eased the door open and froze.
At the end of the corridor, King Jaehaerys leaned on his ruby scepter, with Queen Alysanne holding his arm. The old couple was strolling leisurely toward him.
The morning sun gilded Jaehaerys's silver hair. Alysanne's silver-grey gown swept the floor, carrying her signature scent of lavender.
Seeing Daemon, the Old King stopped, a meaningful smile curling his lips. "Grandson. Did you sleep well?"
Alysanne suppressed a laugh beside him, her eyes full of knowing. She patted her husband's hand. "Old man, asking what you already know."
Daemon's face heated instantly. He glanced back at the closed door, terrified the occupants would wake.
He stepped forward to block the door, coughing awkwardly. "Grand... Grandfather, Grandmother. Good morning. I... I was just heading to the Small Council."
Seeing his panic, Jaehaerys chuckled softly, warmth radiating from his wrinkles. "Looks like you slept well. Relax. I'm not senile yet. I know nothing happened—Alicent reported to us last night. If you had overstepped, would we be smiling at you now?"
Alysanne added, "Alicent said Gael even got up in the night to cover Jeyne with a blanket. That shy child is becoming more thoughtful, learning to care for others."
Daemon relaxed slightly, but hearing them mention "Gael" so pointedly made him falter.
In two lifetimes—whether bound by duty to Rohanne of Tyrosh or tangled with Daenerys—romance had never been his strong suit. In this life, he had spent nearly two years touring the realm and dealing with lords. Facing the direct inquiry of the King and Queen was a battle he hadn't prepared for.
Jaehaerys's smile faded into a gentle solemnity. "We didn't come to tease you this morning. We came to ask... how do you see your Aunt Gael?"
Daemon's throat tightened. He opened his mouth, but words failed him.
He remembered waking up on the Street of Silk to see Gael for the first time, riding Dreamfyre to find him, her violet eyes full of worry as she shouted at Daemon Targaryen—perhaps the first time she had ever raised her voice in anger.
He remembered her chasing him to Rosby with Mysaria to deliver winter clothes, claiming she was "afraid he'd freeze," only to tour the entire realm with him.
He remembered her sneaking into his room in Maidenpool, talking until dawn, telling him "You are not alone."
He remembered her at the tourney, clutching her handkerchief until her knuckles turned white, her eyes shining brighter than the sun when he won.
The memories flashed like a lantern show, each carrying Gael's unique warmth. She was changing for him.
But to say it aloud to his "Grandparents"... he could only smile awkwardly and nod, unable to form a sentence.
Alysanne laughed at his clumsiness. "Our grandson is a tiger on the battlefield, but a kitten in matters of the heart."
She stepped forward, patting his shoulder gently. "I've spoken with Jocelyn and Rhaenys. Jocelyn says you are just like Aemon—you have a reassuring presence. And Rhaenys... you are her brother. If you marry Gael, she will be the first to celebrate."
Daemon felt a surge of warmth. Jocelyn's tenderness and Rhaenys's protectiveness were anchors in this new life.
Jocelyn, since accepting him as her "son," always brought him Aemon's old things, saying, "If your father were here, he would love you."
Rhaenys defending him at Dragonstone: "He is of Targaryen blood. He is my brother."
Jaehaerys took over, his voice full of hope. "I've spoken to Baelon too. He must have talked to you. He says he feels at ease entrusting Gael to you."
That was the final reassurance. He remembered Baelon's words under the moonlight: "Take care of Gael. Don't let her be wronged."
He realized now that his "Uncle" had long seen him as Gael's protector.
"So," Jaehaerys looked into Daemon's eyes, enunciating clearly, "are you willing to marry my daughter, your aunt Gael?"
Daemon's heart raced. The memories of Gael flooded back—knitting him a cloak with The Cannibal on it, handing him honey cakes while he worked, riding Dreamfyre beside him, tears in her eyes as he crowned her Queen of Love and Beauty.
In two lifetimes, he had never felt such a connection. Not a lust for power, not a wariness of war, but an urge to shield someone, to share every morning light with them.
He took a deep breath, shedding the awkwardness. He looked up at Jaehaerys and Alysanne and nodded earnestly. "I am willing."
Alysanne's eyes lit up. She grabbed Jaehaerys's hand. "See? I told you the boy knew his heart!"
Jaehaerys laughed, his wrinkles smoothing out. "Good! Good! While we are still hale... next year, when you turn fourteen, we will hold the wedding. Baelon will officiate. Aemma will escort the bride. Jocelyn and Rhaenys will cloak you in Aemon's mantle. Viserys and Big Daemon will stand for you. A Targaryen wedding must be lively!"
Daemon felt as if his heart had been filled with honey.
He thought of Grey Ghost on the balcony, the women sleeping inside, the future of the United Fleet, the peace of the Seven Kingdoms...
Suddenly, these were no longer heavy burdens, but responsibilities with warm meaning.
Just then, the door creaked open. Gael rubbed her eyes as she walked out, followed by Mysaria and Johanna. Jeyne was still yawning in Mysaria's arms.
Seeing the King, Queen, and Daemon in the corridor, Gael blushed crimson and tried to retreat.
Alysanne beckoned with a smile. "Gael, my Winter Child. Come here, to Mother."
She took Gael's hand and placed it in Daemon's. "From now on... you must take care of each other."
Gael's fingers trembled slightly. She looked up at Daemon, her violet eyes full of shy expectation.
Daemon squeezed her hand. "I will protect you."
Gael tried to act composed, standing on tiptoes to pat his head. "Didn't I protect you before? I'm the aunt. I should be the one protecting you, my Little Daemon."
From the distant hills, The Cannibal roared. On the balcony, Grey Ghost chirped, as if celebrating.
Morning light bathed them in warmth. The corridor of the Red Keep was filled with the new happiness of this young couple.
Jaehaerys whispered to Alysanne, "Look. Our youngest grandson and daughter have finally grown up."
Alysanne nodded, watching the daughter who had changed so much because of Daemon. "Yes. With them, the future of our family is secure."
Daemon held Gael's hand tight, his resolve hardening.
He would stop the Dance of the Dragons. He would fight the Others. And he would protect this hard-won happiness, ensuring that Gael would always smile like this, eyes shining in the morning light.