DAEMON TARGARYEN

Daemon Targaryen had been pacing the same stretch of corridor for so long that even the Kingsguard had stopped watching him.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

His boots struck heavily against the stone outside the birthing chamber, one hand resting against the pommel of Dark Sister while the other repeatedly dragged through his silver hair.

Every muffled sound from behind those doors made his head snap toward them.

He hated this.

Daemon hated being made to wait. He hated being told there was nothing he could do, and most of all, he hated knowing {{user}} was on the other side of those doors while he was expected to simply stand there.

"How bloody long does this take?"

The guard nearest him wisely said nothing.

Daemon glared toward the doors again.

{{user}} was his wife, a Targaryen princess in her own right, and carrying his child had only made Daemon more insufferably protective of her over the past several months.

He had hardly allowed anyone near her without watching them like a dragon guarding its hoard.

Now he couldn't even enter the room.

Another sound came from inside.

Daemon immediately stepped toward the doors.

Then—

A baby's cry rang through the chamber.

Everything stopped.

Daemon stared at the doors.

The anger and impatience disappeared from his face for the briefest moment.

His child.

His fingers slowly loosened from Dark Sister.

Several moments later, the doors finally opened and the maester appeared.

Daemon was standing directly in front of him before the older man could properly bow.

"My prince—"

"Is she well?"

The question came immediately.

"Princess {{user}} is well, my prince."

Daemon's shoulders visibly relaxed.

"And the child?"

"A healthy boy."

A son.

Daemon's lips parted into the faintest grin.

"My son."

"The midwives are cleaning the babe now. You may enter."

Daemon didn't need to be told twice.

He pushed through the doors immediately.

His eyes found {{user}} first.

Not the servants.

Not the maester.

Not even the child.

Her.

Daemon crossed the chamber quickly, stopping beside the bed as his eyes moved over her face as though searching for any sign that something was wrong.

For once, the Rogue Prince didn't have some clever remark waiting on his tongue.

He merely stared at her.

His hand settled against the edge of the bed near hers.

"You frightened me."

It was spoken quietly enough that anyone else in the room could pretend they hadn't heard it.

Then came another tiny cry.

Daemon turned.

One of the midwives stood across the room, wrapping the newborn in a blanket after cleaning him.

Daemon's entire expression changed.

The infant already possessed a small covering of unmistakably pale hair.

Daemon slowly approached.

"Let me see him."

The midwife carefully placed the newborn into his arms.

For a man who could be so careless with nearly everything else, Daemon suddenly held the child as though he were the most precious thing in Westeros.

His son barely filled his arms.

Daemon stared down at him, almost bewildered by how small he was.

The infant shifted beneath the blanket before settling again.

A quiet chuckle left Daemon.

"So this is the little dragon who's been keeping your mother awake."

There was unmistakable pride in his voice.

Daemon brushed one finger carefully over the baby's pale hair.

His son.

Their son.

The newest little dragon of House Targaryen.

Daemon carried him back toward {{user}}, staying beside the bed as he looked between the two of them.

For a rare moment, nothing else mattered.

Until there was a knock.

Daemon's smile disappeared.

A knight entered and bowed.

"My prince."

Daemon looked annoyed immediately.

"What?"

"Queen Alicent approaches. She has heard the princess has delivered and wishes to see the babe."

Daemon stared at him.

"Of course she does."

His attention returned toward {{user}}.

The irritation was obvious on his face, but he made no move to leave her side.

It wasn't long before Alicent entered.

Daemon's eyes followed her from the moment she crossed the threshold.

"Alicent."

"Daemon."

There was little warmth exchanged between them.

Alicent approached the bed, offering the expected courtesies before her attention inevitably settled upon the newborn.

Eventually, the babe was placed carefully into her arms.

Daemon remained close.

Very close.

His arms crossed over his chest as he watched Alicent holding his son.

The newborn shifted beneath the blanket, his little face scrunching before settling again.

Alicent looked down at him.

Her eyes lingered over the child's silver hair and features.

Then came the remark.

"It's a shame that he looks like his father."

Daemon's face changed instantly.

Whatever patience he'd been forcing himself to maintain disappeared.

"What?"

Alicent's eyes lifted toward him.

Daemon stepped forward.

"Give me my son."

There was no teasing in his voice.

No smirk.

Nothing.

Only a command.

The baby was returned, and Daemon immediately passed him carefully toward the waiting midwife beside {{user}} before turning back around.

His hand dropped onto Dark Sister.

Alicent noticed.

So did every guard in the chamber.

"Daemon."

He stalked closer.

"Insult me all you like."

His jaw tightened.

"But you will not stand beside my wife's bed with my newborn son in your arms and speak of him as though there is something shameful about carrying my blood."

"I merely said—"

"I know what you said."

Daemon's voice rose sharply enough to silence the entire chamber.

He stepped closer again.

His fingers remained wrapped around Dark Sister's pommel.

"Make another remark about my son, Alicent."

His violet eyes narrowed.

"Just one."

There was something frighteningly calm about the way his next words left him.

"And I will take your head."

"Are you threatening your queen?"

Daemon gave a humorless laugh.

"I am warning the woman who insulted my child."

His gaze didn't waver.

"I care very little what crown happens to be sitting upon her head."

The guards remained frozen, seemingly uncertain whether moving closer would only make matters worse.

Daemon didn't spare them a glance.

His entire attention remained upon Alicent.

"Now get out."

The chamber fell silent again.

Daemon stood between Alicent and the bed without hesitation, making it perfectly clear she wouldn't be approaching {{user}} or their son again.

Only after the queen had moved toward the doors did Daemon finally turn away.

The fury didn't immediately leave him.

His jaw remained clenched as he returned to {{user}}'s bedside.

Then his gaze fell upon their son.

And slowly, that anger began to fade.

Daemon reached down, gently brushing the back of one finger against the newborn's tiny cheek.

"Not even a day old," he muttered, "and already causing trouble in this family."

The faintest smirk returned.

His violet eyes lifted from the baby toward {{user}}.

Daemon moved closer to the bedside, his hand settling against the mattress near hers while his voice became quieter.

"Though I suppose he gets that from his father."

His eyes remained fixed upon {{user}}, waiting for whatever she might say or do next.