The grand halls of Casterly Rock are alive with the sounds of celebration. The Lannister banners hang proudly from every wall, their crimson and gold shimmering in the candlelight. Servants bustle about, preparing a feast that will be remembered for years to come. Today is a special day—Daemon Lannister's 7th name day.
Daemon, a bright and curious boy with striking dark hair and a spark of something mysterious in his violet-hued eyes, runs through the halls with excitement. The entire castle seems to be alive in his honor, and he can barely contain his joy. He's heard whispers that today's feast will be grander than any before, and that there is a special gift awaiting him.
In the main hall, Tywin Lannister stands at the head of the room, watching over the preparations with his usual stern gaze. Despite the hardness of his expression, there is a warmth in his eyes as he watches his grandson. Jaime stands beside him, his golden hair gleaming in the light, while Cersei is notably absent, remaining in the Red Keep with Robert Baratheon.
Though the hall is filled with guests, the absence of the king and queen looms large, an unspoken tension hanging in the air. Tywin, ever the strategist, shows no outward sign of displeasure, but Jaime knows his father well enough to see the cold fury simmering beneath the surface.
Tywin : (his voice low, measured) He's growing up quickly.
Jaime : (nodding, a proud smile on his face) He is. He has your strength, Father, and a mind that's sharp as a sword.
Tywin's gaze lingers on Daemon, who is now engaged in a mock sword fight with one of the younger squires.
Tywin: (thoughtfully) He'll need more than strength and wits. He'll need allies… and guidance. You've done well with him, Jaime, but the time will come when he must face the world on his own terms.
Jaime: (glancing toward the empty seats meant for Robert and Cersei, his voice cautious) The king and queen's absence is noted by all. Do you think it was wise to withdraw your support?
Tywin's expression hardens, the warmth in his eyes replaced by a steely resolve.
Tywin: (coldly) Robert is a fool, and Cersei has allowed herself to be blinded by her ambition. Our family will not be held hostage by a drunken king's whims. The Lannister name will endure without Robert's favor, and Daemon will be stronger for it.
Before Jaime can respond, the large wooden doors of the hall creak open, drawing the attention of everyone inside. The Stark family, led by Eddard Stark, enters with a quiet dignity that contrasts with the Lannister opulence. The Starks are dressed in their customary muted colors, the sigil of the direwolf embroidered on their cloaks. Behind Ned, his children follow, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and awe at the grandeur of Casterly Rock.
Daemon, who had been oblivious to their arrival, suddenly stops mid-swing and stares at the newcomers. He doesn't recognize them, but there's something about the tall, stern man at the front that draws his attention.
Daemon : (whispering to Jaime, tugging at his sleeve) Who are they?
Jaime: (smiling down at him, his voice gentle) That, my boy, is Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell. He's come a long way to be here today.
Daemon's eyes widen with wonder as he watches the Stark family approach. He's heard tales of the North, of the cold, and of the direwolves that roam the forests, but he's never met a Stark before.
Tywin: (stepping forward, his tone formal but respectful) Lord Stark. Welcome to Casterly Rock. It's been some time.
Ned : (nodding in acknowledgment, his voice as steady as the winter winds) Lord Tywin. Thank you for your hospitality.
Tywin gestures to the feast that's been laid out in Daemon's honor.
Tywin: You've arrived just in time for the celebrations. Today is my grandson's 7th name day.
Ned's gaze shifts to Daemon, who is still staring at him with wide eyes. There's a softness in Ned's expression, a flicker of something almost like recognition, but he keeps his thoughts to himself. He knows who Daemon truly is, but the secret has been kept well over the years.
Ned: (smiling warmly at Daemon) A name day is a special occasion. And I believe we have something that might make it even more memorable.
At Ned's signal, Robb Stark, who is just a few years older than Daemon, steps forward, holding a small bundle in his arms. The bundle wriggles slightly, letting out a soft whine, and Daemon's curiosity turns into pure excitement.
Daemon: (almost breathless with anticipation) What is it?
Robb kneels down, carefully unwrapping the bundle to reveal a tiny, snow-white direwolf puppy with striking red eyes. The hall gasps in awe as the little creature looks up at Daemon, tilting its head as if assessing its new owner.
Ned: (his voice gentle, but carrying the weight of tradition) This is Ghost. He's a direwolf, born in the cold forests of the North. He's yours now, Daemon.
Daemon steps forward, his small hands reaching out to touch the pup's soft fur. Ghost nuzzles against his hand, immediately forming a bond with the boy. There's a connection there, something deep and unspoken, as if the wolf understands Daemon in a way no one else can.
Daemon: (beaming, his heart swelling with joy) He's mine?
Ned: (nodding) Yes, he's yours. But remember, a direwolf is a loyal companion. He'll stand by your side as long as you stand by his.
Tywin watches the interaction closely, his expression unreadable. The gift is significant, more than just a token from the North. It's a symbol of the bond between the Stark and Lannister families, a bond that has been carefully maintained over the years through secret correspondences and mutual respect.
Daemon, oblivious to the deeper implications, is simply overjoyed. He kneels down beside Ghost, laughing as the pup licks his face. Jaime joins him, ruffling the boy's hair affectionately.
Jaime: (softly, so only Daemon can hear) He's a good friend, Daemon. Treat him well.
Daemon nods, his eyes shining with happiness. He doesn't fully understand why, but he feels a deep connection to the Starks, especially to the man who gave him such a wonderful gift. But for now, all he cares about is the new friend by his side.
As the feast continues, Tywin and Ned exchange quiet words, their conversation low and guarded. They speak of the years that have passed, of the delicate balance they've maintained. Tywin respects Ned's honor, and Ned respects Tywin's power, and it is this mutual understanding that has allowed them to keep the secret of Daemon's true parentage hidden.
Tywin: (quietly, with a hint of warning) He's growing stronger, Ned. He doesn't know who you are yet, but that day will come.
Ned: (his voice equally low, laced with both resolve and a touch of sadness) When the time is right, he'll know everything. But until then, he's your grandson. I trust you to keep him safe.
Tywin: (nodding slightly) You have my word.
Meanwhile, Daemon is surrounded by the Stark children. Robb, who is still young but carries the beginnings of a future lord, listens intently as Daemon tells him about life at Casterly Rock, while Sansa, only a year younger than Daemon, watches with wide eyes. Arya, barely more than a toddler at three years old, toddles over to Ghost, her tiny hands reaching out to pet the pup.
Robb : (grinning) You're lucky to have a direwolf. They're strong and loyal, just like the Starks.
Daemon: (smiling, glancing at Ghost who's curled up by his feet) I think we'll be great friends.
Sansa, always the lady, offers Daemon a shy smile.
Sansa : Maybe one day you'll visit Winterfell. It's beautiful in the snow.
Daemon: (nodding eagerly) I'd love to see it!
As the evening wears on, the bonds between the Lannisters and the Starks are subtly reinforced. Daemon, blissfully unaware of the weighty expectations and the secrets that surround him, is simply happy to be surrounded by friends and family. Ghost, his new companion, stays close by his side, a silent guardian for the boy who is destined for greatness.