[Chapter Size: 2500 Words.]
Third Person POV.
Winterfell.
...
...
Daemon was receiving so many visitors without intervening that he didn't even bother to personally meet them all. However, this one in particular, where men of various banners were approaching the entrance gate before him... it was something a bit more special that he could not ignore.
He stood there at the entrance of the castle with his people, staring at the men who made their way into Winterfell's courtyard.
This convoy had come directly from the South, and Daemon had been keeping an eye on them for a few days through his birds. After all, how could he not? How could he not receive Robb Stark, his cousin, along with the group that had survived the escape from the South after the events of the Red Wedding?
He saw them all entering. The mother of Lyanna Mormont, Lady Maege Mormont, was among the first people on horseback along with Alysane, but her eldest daughter, Dacey, had been killed.
Daemon focused his attention on the first person there. When he came toward him after dismounting his horse, his eyes fixed on him, but then shifted anxiously. Everyone around seemed to hold their breath, at least the Northerners there, after all, this meeting was somewhat special.
This person held himself firm, despite the difficulty of doing so after everything that had happened more than a year ago, standing before him while staring straight into his eyes without wavering. However, Daemon could see the weakness he tried to conceal.
"Hello, Robb Stark," said Daemon to the boy before him, who stared back, trying to keep his eyes steady on his cousin.
Daemon had a solemn look upon him. There was no anger, only calmness. And Daemon could see the sadness behind his eyes, the fear, the uncertainty.
The people around them began to whisper softly, watching the scene with complete interest. After all, on one side was Lord Stark's firstborn, a survivor of the war, returning to Winterfell after losing almost everything.
On the other, the man who had conquered Winterfell on his own when Robb lost the castle, the one who should have been a despised bastard, like most bastards. The only difference was that he had grown up in this castle and, in return, had borne the hatred of his supposed father's wife. Later, it was revealed he was his nephew, and Daemon would prove he was a legitimate child.
"Daemon Targaryen... It's been a while since I last saw you..." The words came out with some hesitation from Robb's mouth.
"Yes, I spared you in our last encounter, and I even wanted to fight you on a battlefield. That's why I spared you from being gravely hurt that time when you tried to attack me with fifty men," said Daemon.
The people behind him didn't fail to frown upon hearing this statement. Everyone knew it had happened back then in the riverlands, but it still made the atmosphere quite tense for Daemon to utter those words before everyone.
Daemon continued before Robb could answer him.
"However, I do not harbor anger toward you, Robb," Daemon went on.
Robb tried to say something, struggling to find words. He was usually honest and straightforward, but here it felt like walking on eggshells. He had to be careful with his words—he was at a disadvantage.
Daemon then continued once again.
"I do not harbor anger toward you, Robb, but neither do I hold any love. We were never truly brothers. Your mother had ensured that while I lived in this castle. And I still intend to deal with your father."
"You will have a place in this castle. You will receive bread and salt. You may stay in your old room, voice your opinion in the lords' council as a representative of the Starks. After all, you are still a Stark. However, I have not decided what I will do with you. I hope you understand your position here. The Stark family will not wield much power until I decide the best way to deal with you. But I do not intend to harm without a good reason, just as I hold no quarrel with you and your two brothers who are coming here. I hold no quarrel with little Arya in White Harbor. You have my word that none of you will suffer harm by my hand because of your parents' sins, for otherwise I would be no different than your father, would I not?" Daemon delivered his speech before them all.
Robb's attempt to capture him had been nothing more than a jest to him, as he had simply brought down his fifty men with a single shout of Thu'um.
Daemon's words left behind an even greater sense of uncertainty, as all eyes turned to Robb Stark, wondering how he would respond. Such words from Daemon had stripped him of all power, even in his own home. Yet, in another way, they had also guaranteed his safety and his voice among the lords.
Robb reacted in an unexpected way at that moment. Slowly, he began to bend his knees and lowered himself before Daemon, bowing his head.
"I thank you for your kindness, Your Majesty," said Robb, drawing startled and horrified looks from the other Northern lords as they watched him kneel like that.
"Please, just do not harm my Siblings," Robb said seriously at the end.
'So that is the reason...' Daemon thought, staring at him, while he could also feel the ghost of his mother watching his brother's firstborn with curiosity, as space bent invisibly around Robb, unnoticed by anyone but himself.
"Bring me bread and salt. You may rise, my lord," Daemon requested in an indifferent tone.
Robb rose and stepped away to receive the bread and salt. Daemon's gaze left Robb kneeling and turned back to the other lords.
"Your Majesty." The large woman's voice came firm as she studied Daemon. "I had never noticed it before, when I saw you as a child... but you certainly resemble your mother," she said. "I also heard that you persuaded my little daughter to place House Mormont under your banner."
"You are very clever, Maege! You know things!" Daemon ignored his mother's proud and youthful shout when she heard that, still invisible to all, treating Maege as a friend.
"I thank you for your words, Lady Mormont. I hope you also share in your daughter's ideas," Daemon said to Maege.
"I heard that you freed the Ironborn's island. I cannot give you any answer now, for I need to know who you are and what you plan for the North. The only things I've heard are that you are a powerful sorcerer, that you killed the king, massacred men most fear, destroyed castles... I even heard that you killed several archmaesters at the Citadel before stealing Tywin Lannister's fortune from his vault. And I don't even need to mention that you brought down the Wall for the first time in eight thousand years, spared my brother, and are slaughtering Boltons and ironborn all over the North," she said with good humor. There was some admiration in her voice.
"I don't want you to kneel before me the moment you see me, but I want your answer when all the lords present are gathered here. The last of them will be arriving soon, along with part of my men from the Free Folk," Daemon said.
"Now, accept the bread and salt," he told her, as she went to where Robb was, also receiving the tray from Winterfell's servants.
"Your Majesty," said one of the other lords who had survived the Red Wedding and the Bolton ambush after Lady Mormont.
In the end, Daemon asked the servants to lead them to their rooms, while Robb and the others were escorted inside the castle.
Daemon calmly observed how many people were there, especially the mountain lords, Lord Glover, and many others who had arrived much earlier.
All murmured about whatever Robb might do. Many seemed a little disappointed; there were even those who felt anger and hatred toward Robb, cursing him under their breath. However, Daemon saw him only as a broken man.
Robb had little choice, and they all knew Daemon held more power than anyone else. There was no other possible victor of that war but the Dragonborn—who had a dragon and an army strong enough to defeat anyone from the South. Not to mention his feats in battle and his powers. People both feared and admired him; it was easy for Daemon to win over everyone around him after showing what he could do and fighting at the front of every battle, leading them to victory after victory.
Daemon's thoughts about Robb and the whispers ceased when the sound of strong wings came, drawing everyone's attention as they looked up to see the white dragon flying over the castle, roaring down like a call.
"And I was about to call her to train with me in the yard... but I suppose that won't be possible now, will it?" Val's voice came beside Daemon as she watched the dragon calling down from the sky. She often did this when she wanted Daemon's attention, impatient to remain in her nest outside the castle.
"No. She wants to fly with me, so I'd better give her some attention," Daemon said, staring at the female dragon circling the castle and roaring again.
Val only nodded, knowing it would be difficult to compete with Daemon's attention when his dragon was in the sky.
"Organize everything here. I'll be back in a few hours," said Daemon, leaving the castle courtyard and heading toward the area near the camp, while his dragon began to descend, landing on the cold ground.
"I think it would be good for us to take a little tour around the realm..." Daemon commented, touching the female dragon's snout before seeing her tilt her wing so he could climb up. He walked to its edge and then leapt onto her back.
"Come on, girl, with me," said Daemon, shooting into the sky the next moment and leaving Winterfell behind.
The first thing he did was fly south, where he had placed birds as lookouts on the walls of White Harbor. Daemon had to admit that he was mastering more and more the abilities that the blood of the First Men had given him. He had gone from merely dreaming of a small wolf to controlling dozens of animals, even if he had to use the sacred tree of the old gods to further amplify his Warg power.
Even though he had eyes in the south, he wanted to see White Harbor and Stannis's siege around the port city for himself.
He wanted to confront Stannis, to see if he would have the courage to face his army. He wanted to do it before the entire North, and soon he began to see the city after arriving there within an hour of flying...
Stannis's camp was outside the city, and Daemon knew attacking them there would be very easy. However, after thinking a little, why not have a chat with Stannis? The man was without his ships; all he could fight with now was on land.
Daemon, who had only thought of observing, could not help but change his mind as he tilted the dragon downward, advancing with the creature's weight, easily gaining speed with its wings tucked in.
There were twenty thousand men there, with a rather large cavalry. That was his advantage, and it could even pose a problem for the Free Folk, who, though trained, had no cavalry to so easily combat the men of the Stormlands.
Of course, Daemon would have to use his dragon when the time came, which would completely turn the disadvantage in his favor.
He drew close enough for his dragon to spread its wings. At that moment, it began roaring loudly at the men below, who were merely holding camp and surrounding the walls of White Harbor.
The dragon was certainly a surprise for them all, as its roar spread terror across the field, making every head turn upward in shock.
Caught by surprise, men shouted and began to run in fear. The wings spread wide, with the female gliding through the air, avoiding a crash against the ground. Even the men upon the walls of White Harbor looked on in terror, and the city itself seemed to stir completely with the sound of the beast echoing through the air.
Daemon did not know exactly where Stannis was, but he saw the main tent in the camp, from which some people began to emerge, looking up at the sky. He didn't even bother to watch them. He then made his dragoness beat her wings and begin circling the camp, passing over it and returning to an unoccupied area a little distance away from the camp.
There, he began to land at a safe distance from the archers, striking against the frozen ground before roaring once more and finally stopping. Daemon watched everyone's reaction. He could feel the fear before the white beast that had burned all of Stannis's ships about a moon ago.
Jon drew in a breath before roaring with his voice, each word carrying power even at that distance, rivaling Winter's roar from before.
"Stannis Baratheon, I would like to have a conversation with you. I do not intend to harm you. Even though I have my dragon, I am not so much a coward as to hurt you like this. I would rather do so on the battlefield, or even invade your camp myself. I only wish to have a chat," said Daemon, as he began to dismount Winter, landing on the cold southern Northern ground and walking toward the camp.
As he walked, the camp seemed restless. Daemon went alone and, even entering the archers' range, he did not care. He stopped, waiting for Stannis's response from somewhere within the camp, while the men formed a line before him, nervous, many with bows and arrows in hand.
They no longer knew if he was the main point of fear or if it was the dragon behind him. Either way, Daemon had put himself in danger before twenty thousand men, just as he would place Stannis before his dragon, to give him some confidence to meet with him.
And it truly worked, for a group of men began shouting orders to the soldiers in front, while they rode on horseback toward where Daemon was.
Daemon stared at them, wearing an arrogant smile, waiting to see one of his adversaries for the first time.
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