AN/ This idea popped into my head while I was re-watching the first season lol.

If you haven't guessed I am a die-hard Daemon fan. I will hear no wrong.

Rhaenyra Targaryen

The Throne Room was a bustle of activity as various Lords and their heirs streamed in to set their caps at her. The men all crowded the sides of the aisle wearing a look of pompous superiority, nervousness or even in some cases indifference. The servants had been preparing for this day for months.

A feast was to follow the dreaded activity, and the decorations had to be fitting of a "royal betrothal".

Those were her father's exact words.

Rhaenyra chaffed against the mere thought of simply choosing a man with which to spend her life with after a few conversations- made not in private but in public as if she were a prized stallion up for auction.

As she sat in the high-backed chair brought in for the occasion and placed on a raised platform in front of the throne, she could not help but dread her fate. Her father, at the center of the line of chairs on the dais glanced over at her with a slight smile every time a pompous Lord entered the hall. The Hand of the King and all the other small council members were already seated and awaiting the start of what was sure to be a disaster for Rhaenyra.

Every man in this room hoped she would marry them so that they may have her Valyrian blood for their offspring. Her children would bear their house names, have to wear their house colours and may even adopt their customs.

From the moment Rhaenyra learned of her mother's death, she had dreaded the idea of children. Her father claimed to love his Queen with all his heart, and yet he ordered her butchered. Held against her will like a lamb for slaughter as the Maester tore her apart for a son. A babe that scarcely breathed for a few moments.

Mother, gone. All for naught.

Her father had avoided her for moons afterward. Unable to face her. Every time their eyes connected, he looked away in shame. Good. He should be ashamed of himself.

His actions only served to further Rhaenyra's disdain for this ridiculous pageant.

If a man like her father, who so loved his wife could order her murdered for an heir, what would these lords gathered before her do to ensure their blood ended up on the throne?

The nightmares she suffered flashed before her eyes as she stared at the faces of everyone gathering to hear the King's opening remark to this farce.

"Lord Corlys of House Velaryon- the Lord of the Tides, Master of Driftmark. And his lady wife the Princess Rhaenys Targaryen. Along with their son and heir Ser Laenor Velaryon!" Ser Harrold announced.

The entire Velaryon House entered the throne room, moving with a grace befitting their station. Lord Corlys was a proud man and walked with an air of superiority amongst the other Lords of the realm. The Princess looked as radiant and royal as ever. Her eyes straight ahead, not acknowledging the members of court turning to share whispers of whatever was the latest gossip about the family from Driftmark.

The announcement appeared to be music to her father's ear.

They had many conversations leading up to this day, and he was Laenor's biggest champion. Insisting that a Velaryon match would be the best option for her. It would make her claim stronger.

Truthfully, Rhaenyra considered it. Her cousin was known to her for years. She had spent many a moon with him and his sister Laena while growing up. As such, she had made the effort to speak to Laenor before today.

The flight to Driftmark had been easy enough to make on Syrax.

The day spent with Laenor was both enlightening and depressing. The one person of interest from the list her father presented to her had no interest in sharing her bed, much less taking her to wife. She knew he would still be made to petition for her hand by his father, and if she said yes, they would be wed regardless.

But she could never do that to her dear cousin. They had jested as they walked along the beach. He shared stories of his exploits and battles in the stepstones. The end of the war was brought on by her uncle's apparent refusal of aid. She smiled and felt wistful at the mere thought of him.

His life. Free to travel as he was often inclined to do (Though he was usually forced). Currently somewhere in the free cities spending the gold he had won and attending lavish parties in the manses of the Magisters. Or at least, she hoped he was enjoying all those pleasures.

No matter how much she had hated when he left her behind in the Keep, she could never bring herself to begrudge him his adventures. He always brought her some expensive gift from the other side of the world. Jewels, books, the richest fabrics. Each gift was always thoughtful, always something she had wanted but never knew she wanted.

He knew her better than she knew herself sometimes.

At first it was her fascination with his dark demeanor and sharp tongue that made him quite entertaining to her. Daemon was either the whitest of knights or the blackest of villains, and she accepted him in all capacities. He taught her High Valyrian, their secret language, and how to ride her dragon. The praises he lavished on her as she became the youngest dragon rider in the histories just to chase him down when he was banished from court would never be forgotten. She loved him. He was her uncle.

As the years went by, her love for him took on a strange quality. She became nervous in his presence. Often blushing when she caught his eye. The carefree way they held hands as he took her for a turn about the Godswood was no longer carefree to her. She felt every line of his palm pressed to hers. Every joint of his fingers that he laced with hers. The way they sometimes brushed each other in passing. Ugh.

Rhaenyra was unsure what it meant. He was her uncle. He was her best friend in all but name. Now that Alicent is Queen, mayhaps he has the title too.

In his last visit to the keep, they had been dragon flying, racing each other to Dragonstone and back before the tourney for Baelon. He had showed her the secret passageways of the island fortress. He explained the deep history of their house and in the moments they were alone in close confines her heart beat so fast she thought it would burst from her chest.

She could have sworn she saw him glance at her lips on several occasions. Her face heating up each time. She usually caught herself before she glanced at his. She had no way of knowing that they were lightest shade of pink, with the bottom slightly fuller than the top. The way they glistened as he licked them while he talked completely escaped her notice. No. She did not see.

She wanted him here, to walk her through this ordeal. She had tried asking about his marriage to Lady Rhea. The topic made him scowl with such ferocity his eyebrows touched each other. It was actually quite adorable.

He insisted that his marriage was a farce, and unconsummated (a statement that made her blush profusely). The thought of him…. Consummating. She felt a spike of jealousy go through her before she shook her head in shock. He was her best friend. No. Father would be livid if he knew her thoughts, Daemon would surely be banished again. And he was- not by her doing, no.

She had never seen him again.

As she sat watching Laenor stand amongst the suitors ready to place their bid, she sighed quietly.

If only he was here. He would object to this farce. Father would never allow it to be called off but just the thought of him trying to spare her from the fate of her mother would be enough to quell her mounting despair.

The hall fell silent around her as the King rose from his seat to open the floor to petitioners.

"Welcome! Welcome all to this, a momentous occasion! My daughter, my heir, your future Queen will today confirm her match and future husband; the future Prince Consort!"

The hall erupted in loud cheers. Lords smiling and looking at their sons proudly. Viserys raised his hand for silence once more.

"Usually, the members of the council would hear your petitions and find a match that is most suited to the heir. However, I have decided to allow my daughter to choose the man she would bind herself to. She is to be Queen and as such will choose a consort that will support her, bring strength to her claim and provide her with a strong line of succession."

Rhaenyra grimaced internally at the words. Support her. Bring Strength. Is that all he wishes for her. A man that would treat her like a duty, like a golden chest to be guarded and locked away. Only opened to access the treasure between her thighs then hidden away again in preparation for his heir.

What about companionship? Would he be kind to her?

The King finished his opening speech to loud cheers from those gathered below and applause from the council members sat around him.

Ser Harrold stepped forward to announce the first petitioner, "Lord Craster Mallister!"

A man that appeared to be around her father's age stepped to the center of the room. Rhaenyra was keen to note the difference in their posture however, the man was hunched at the shoulders and had hair so grey it was almost white.

Rhaenyra was impressed that he would travel all this way to introduce his son to her. That impression was crushed the minute he opened his mouth, for it was made clear that he was in fact here to petition for himself.

THIS MAN?

Rhaenyra turned to look at her father in disbelief, before looking back over to the Lords gathered with a face of downright disdain. Lord Mallister appeared not to have noticed as he was right in the middle of praising her great-grandmother, Queen Alysanne, for being a great beauty.

She caught eye of Laenor in the crowd and almost busted out laughing as he himself was fighting to withhold his mirth. The other members of the court and visiting Lords were not as kind. The mutterings were kept low but were still present and a few Lords turned to their neighbours and laughed at the ponderous history the Lord was telling the Princess.

"Ahem." She cleared her throat, interrupting the man. She kept her face a mask of politeness as she asked if he truly thought himself, a man her father's age, to be a worthy contender for her hand.

Otto Hightower chose that moment to speak up, surprisingly telling the Lord that to present himself was an insult to the Princess. The man glanced at the King, who simply raised his eyebrow as if to say, "Are you serious?" Taking his cue, the Lord bowed and fell back into the crowd of other Lords to some jeers.

Ser Harrold cleared his throat and announced the next Lord. While younger than the previous Lord, he also droned on about the history of his house, its strength, the strong sons that he can offer her. Not once mentioning caring for her.

This went on for the better part of an hour. Lords came and went, offering platitudes and words of support. All the same, all boring. She maintained her courtly manners and gave a polite smile to each Lord as they bowed upon completion of their bid to her.

A few Lords even made their case directly to the King, glancing at her twice and otherwise ignoring her presence entirely.

"Lord Jason Lannister"

Oh gods.

The twin of Casterly Rock strutted up to the dais from the back of the room. Taking the length of the walkway to prune like a peacock. Rhaenyra had encountered the man before and could think of no word to describe him but "Insufferable".

"Princess, you are a vision as you sit here before me, today" He started off. Rhaenyra refrained from rolling her eyes. She plastered a smile to her face and responded with a cordial "Thank you, Lord Jason".

And he took off.

In conversation with the King!

"I had this forged in the rich mines of Casterly Rock, Your Grace." He began. Signaling to a servant from his house to step forward. The man approached and handed a long spear to the Lord, who then presented it to her father.

It was a fine weapon, Rhaenyra must admit. Gilded with fine materials and had gold inlays in the forms of dragons all along the shaft.

Ser Steffon Darklyn stepped forward to receive the gift on behalf of the King. Upon receiving the spear Viserys smile and responded, "It is quite a thing, Lord Jason. Thank you for your generosity". The man took on an air of superiority as he glanced around at the Lords behind him as if to say, "Beat that".

Lord Jason then turned to Rhaenyra.

"I would be honored to take you, Princess Rhaenyra, to wife. What I offer you, and the Crown is strength. The strength of my House and lands-"

For the first time since the proceeding commenced Rhaenyra interrupted a Lord with a tone that was anything but courtly. "Do you think House Targaryen lacks for strength, Lord Jason?"

Her father glanced at her from the corner of his eye, Otto Hightower sat straighter in his chair and Lords and Ladies alike stopped their mutterings immediately. The room was as silent as a crypt.

Lord Jason looked taken aback and looked at the King as if hoping for his intervention. Upon realizing that no such help would be forthcoming, he responded.

"If someone offered you more dragons, Princess, would you not take it?"

"Do you have dragons to offer?" Rhaenyra questioned in response. Bristling at the mocking tone with which he asked her a question.

Lord Jason glanced along the high table once more.

"Casterly Rock is a splendid seat, Princess. You may take your place there by my side without shame and find yourself well-compensated. Our gold mines, after all, are brimming with the treasure. You would be a respected Lady of the realm. Your loss in station would be but an afterthought-".

Her father decided to respond to this swiftly. "What loss of station?" he questioned with a tone so threatening Lord Jason stuttered upon answering.

"I- If you were to name Aegon heir, Your Grace". Rhaenyra felt her body chill as she looked at the King. It was plain for all to see that he was livid at the suggestion and, if nothing else, Rhaenyra smiled at that. Otto Hightower was a different case. He had his eyes trained on Lord Jason in quiet contemplation before looking around at the muttering Lords and Ladies. And by muttering, I mean loud exclamations. Some Lords looked eager to see where this would go, for a woman on the Throne was unheard of and they had only sworn fealty in the absence of a son.

Other Lords looked furious at the mere suggestion. After all, why else had they travelled this far if not for the chance of their sons to become the Prince Consort.

"And when would I be doing that?" Viserys questioned.

Lord Jason was at a loss for words, and the Hand swung his head to look at Viserys so quickly Rhaenyra had to stifle her laughter at the sound of his neck cracking.

Lord Jason stuttered his way through an answer, as he no doubt realized that he miscalculated.

"I had assumed—As he is your first-born son—Many of us had assumed –"

"Many of us?" Viserys interrupted. "Have your bannermen questioned my choices, Lord Jason? Do they think I named my daughter heir on a whim? That I would replace her now, just because a son was born to me?"

"It is your duty to report any whispers of rebellion!" The court looked on in shock the moment the word left the King's lips.

Lord Otto's gaze had not left Viserys' face from the moment he cracked his neck and was increasing its horrific appearance the more the King reaffirmed his chosen heir.

Viserys, in a moment of strength not often seen, stood from his seat and addressed the room.

"The Princess Rhaenyra is my chosen heir. She is my first-born child, the Princess of Dragon and upon my passing all of my titles will pass to her. I did not decide this in an act of desperation, or only to shore up the succession. I chose Rhaenyra because she is the best option to lead the kingdoms. You would all do well to remember that."

And with one fell swoop, Rhaneyra could not find it within her heart to be that upset with her father for much longer. Viserys reclaimed his seat and once again addressed Lord Jason, "Thank you, for the spear." That was a dismissal if Rhaenyra had ever heard one. Lord Jason slunk back amongst the crowd and was probably praying for the Gods to make him invisible.

Ser Westerling glanced at the King for permission to announce the next petitioner before announcing "Ser Laenor Velaryon!"

Her cousin gave by far the most entertaining petition. They had already planned what he would say to her, but he had added a few embellishments here and there. She would not choose him. She hated being forced to marry, and she would not subject Laenor to a shared fate. She smiled genuinely for the first time since she started hearing the Lords.

"Ser Gwayne Hightower!", was the next to petition for her hand.

Rhaenyra snuck a glance at his father, who looked as smug and proud as ever before turning her attention back to the Lord she would never wed.

"My Princess" He began. "Tales of your beauty and grace have never been far from my ears. I have come to admire you from afar, and I would like nothing more than to offer you the protection of my house. As my Lady wife, I would seek ensure your line is secure. I would offer the protection of the Hightower, a castle that has never been breached. The Hightower is the tallest structure in the realm. And the House that occupies it is one the most ancient and noble of Houses in the seven Kingdoms. Our children would be of impeccable lineage both from my family line, and yours-"

Poor Gwayne was interrupted by the bursting in of a servant of the castle. The man sped down the passageway with such haste that the kingsguard prepared to draw their swords and looked to the doors to see his pursuer.

"A message for the King" The man panted at the base of the steps. Viserys waved him forward and the man delivered the message directly to the King's ear.

Whatever words were spoken, one could only guess, but her father's reaction was one of anger, irritation and resignation.

All befitting the man that entered the Throne Room in that moment.

Tall, statuesque and clad in black from head to toe; her uncle stood at the doors with his usual smirk plastered upon his face. His hair was shorn, and he wore a crown made of what appeared to be wood of some sort. The members of court erupted in a fury of whispers. The council members all began vying for the King's ear.

But she heard none of that.

He was here.

He was here, right now. Right in front of her.

He took deliberate steps up the walkway. Completely ignoring the looks from the court, his eyes focused only on her.

She felt the blush rise to her cheeks and a strange heat spread across her stomach as she held his eyes. Unwavering, unapologetically.

He gave her the little smile that he had saved only for her for as long as she knew him and came to a stop before the dais.

He looked at Ser Harrold, and whatever passed from his eyes to knight's prompted him to announce before court -

"The next petitioner, Prince Daemon of House Targaryen!"

Her father was livid, Gwayne Hightower looked unsure if he should remove from center of the room. He looked to his father for assistance and Rhaenyra followed his eyes. Otto Hightower was whispering furiously into the ear of the King. All in vain, for Viserys (if only for propriety's sake and the reluctance to cause a scandal at court) stared at his brother with contempt but made no move to interrupt him as he began.

"Princess"

Annnnddd that's the end of the first chapter. The entire story will be completed by the end of the week hopefully!