Chapter Text
“The fuck am I?” Daemon asked when he woke up and didn’t recognize his surroundings nor have a recollection of how he could end up at that place.
Daemon quickly stood up and realized how unfit his clothes were, his pants slid down effortlessly to his ankle, and the hem of his tunic brushed his knee. Daemon walked toward the mirror and cursed again when he saw the dried blood stain on his tunic; he quickly lifted his tunic, checked his body in front of the mirror, and felt relief when he did not find a single injury on his body.
Then a sudden realization hit Daemon like a storm, did he get kidnapped? Oh shit!! There's no other explanation than kidnapping when you wake up at an unknown place without recollecting past events.
Daemon almost left the tent, but his eyes landed on Dark Sister, that lay on the table beside the bed; Daemon blinked in confusion; if Dark Sister was here, his father should be here; if his father had been here, that's mean he was not kidnapped… but it does still not explain his unfit clothes with a dried blood stain on his tunic he wears…
Before Daemon could think further, he heard rumblings outside his tent; he lifted the tent flap and found Caraxes staring at him; Daemon looked around and found the Dragon circling the whole tent with his body as if he were protecting a precious egg.
“Uh… Rystaz Caraxes ?” Daemon greeted the blood wyrm.
Caraxes blow hot steam at Daemon as if telling him to stay inside.
Daemon quickly shut the tent flap; as friendly as it seems to the Targaryen, Dragon only obeys its rider, that's means Daemon cannot anger the Dragon.
Daemon took a deep breath; well, at least Daemon knew his father and Uncle Aemon were there, and he was not kidnapped, which was good.
Daemon decides to open every chest in the tent; he is glad when he finds a chest that seems to belong to his father's squire; the clothes quality is not as good as Daemon usually wears, but it's better than an oversized tunic with dried blood on it.
Next, Daemon found a barrel full of water; he drank some of the water and used some to wash himself from dust and grime.
Daemon waited for two days, but there was still no sign of his father and uncle returning.
The boredom and hunger slowly took the best of Daemon; the last piece of stale bread that was left on the tent was long gone, he knew he won’t get any food as long as Caraxes still looming around his tent, and the blood wyrm wouldn’t move until uncle Aemon told him so.
Daemon knows he shouldn’t go near Caraxes, but he is starving and can no longer spend another minute inside the stuffy tent.
Caraxes opens his eyes again when Daemon opens the tent flap, “ I’m going to grab us some food, I won’t go too far. ” Daemon told the Dragon in the hope he would understand him.
Caraxes narrowed his eyes.
“ Oh come on Caraxes, I’m starving. ”
Caraxes are unmoved.
Daemon shows the dragon blade that is strapped on his waist, “ I’m armed Caraxes, I won’t go too far. ”
The blood wyrm only gives Daemon a side-eye. Daemon groaned; he didn’t care anymore. He pushed himself into a small gap between Caraxes head and body and died smothered by a dragon, still better than starvation.
Daemon ignored the protest growl of Caraxes once he managed to push through the wyrm warm scale. Daemon walked around and found only a few tents still standing on the field; it looked as if half of the army had gone,
did his father and uncle forget about him?
There's a possibility of his father and Uncle forgetting about him, but there's no chance His father and Uncle would leave Black Sister and Caraxes behind. Nothing makes sense since he wakes up; everything doesn’t add up.
Fuck… did father and uncle were captured by enemies?
But why Caraxes with him instead of rescuing Uncle Aemon?
Daemon decided to cover his head with his cape; he hid in the darkness and made his way to the camp across his tent; Daemon let out a sigh of relief when he saw the Velaryon banner fluttering at the top of the main tent,
At least he is not at the enemy camp.
When Daemon almost takes off his cape, he hears his name being called off.
“What to do with Prince Daemon?”
“If he does not die from his wound, he would die of starvation.”
What?!
“Lord Corlys ordered you to take care of him!”
“He's not here isn’t he? We could just say we couldn’t tend him because the Dragon didn’t allow us to get close to the tent, which is true.”
“Death of the prince will bring the king's wrath upon our house, Vaemond!”
A man name Vaemond burst into laughter, “He won't! We do him a favor; he should be grateful to us!”
Anger and disgust quickly fill Daemon's chest, he wants to plunge his blade into Vaemond's heart, but he can’t. He doesn’t know how many people are inside the main tent; it's too risky for him; they want him dead, and attacking them would only allow them to do so.
Daemon decides to steal some food and retreats to his tent.
Seeing him, Caraxes lift his head to make way for him, “ You know they plan to kill me. That's why are you guarding my tent ?” Daemon asks the wyrm as he tosses some slab of meat to the ground.
Caraxes blinked at him before devouring the meat. Daemon sat beside Caraxes head and shoved the rest of the food he stole down to his throat.
Caraxes let out a low rumble from his throat,
“ I know ,” Daemon mumbled; he knew he couldn't stay; he needed to return to the king's landing, but how? He never rode a dragon before, Caraxes was kind enough to keep him safe all this time, but would he allow him to ride on his back? He was still bonded with Uncle Aemon; what if the Dragon decided to throw him from his back before they arrived at the king’s landing? Or how the hell should Daemon know what direction is King's Landing? What if he flies and ends up in Essos? Or, worst old Valyria?!
Caraxes puffed another hot steam to Daemon.
“ Yes, Yes, better die in an attempt to ride a dragon than be killed by a Velaryon cunt, isn't it? ” Daemon said as if he understood Caraxes.
Daemon got back to the Tent, strapped Dark Sister on his back, and packed whatever looked valuable from the tent; if he ended up at Essos, at least he could sell something and stay alive until his family came for him.
Daemon took a deep breath before pressing his hand on Caraxes snout, “What to say? Oh yeah, Lykirī Caraxes. ”
Caraxes closed his eyes, lowered his head, and lay flat on the ground as if welcoming Daemon to climb onto his back,
With great joy, Daemon climbed Caraxes back; he quickly strapped himself securely on Caraxes saddle, then grabbed the rein; Daemon drew a deep breath, “Okay…. Take me home, Caraxes, Soves! ” He commands the Dragon; Daemon expects the Dragon will ignore him, but he does not; the Dragon stands up and gallops on the open fly taking off into the night sky, leaving the encampment.
Daemon swore he could hear his blood singing in his ears as he soared through the night skies on the back of Caraxes; he felt a rush of exhilaration wash over him, filling his heart with pure joy and a sense of boundless freedom like never before; it felt like he was born for this, soaring in the sky on the back of the Dragon.
After hours of flying, Daemon finally saw a familiar red brick castle on the horizon; he thanked all the gods Caraxes didn’t bring him to Essos or, worst, Old Valyria; the thought of the will somewhat landing at Old Valyria and ended up like Aerea make Daemon shudder from head to toe.
Once He and Caraxes approached the vicinity of the red keep, Daemon just realized something crucial that he had missed.
How the hell to land a fucking Dragon?
Daemon flies in a circle on top of The red Keep while trying to remember every DragonKeeper lesson he has been taught; Daemon keeps thinking until he concludes, The Dragon Keeper never taught him how to Landing a dragon, Because how the fuck they know how to do it when they never ride one themself?! They are just a caretaker, not a rider! “Fuck! I’m going to Die!” he cursed.
Daemon took a deep breath to calm himself down, “I can do this, I can do this,” He told himself, “What high Valyrian for Landing….Tegon…” He took a deep breath, “ Naejot Tegon, Caraxes! ” He shouts to the blood wyrm.
Caraxes let out a loud shriek before descending toward the keep.
Caraxes chose to land on the Weirwood tree garden; before he could unstrap himself from the saddle, he heard the familiar voice of his nagging Older brother.
“Daemon?! What is the meaning of this?!”
“What do you think it looks like, Viserys?” Daemon asked back while jumping down from Caraxes saddle.
“Daemon?” Viserys asked; he sounded strange.
“What, Viserys?” Daemon asks as he turns around,
Once he faced 'Viserys,' he was stunned; he blinked several times before rubbing his eyes and slapping himself to ensure he was not dreaming.
“The fuck happened to you?!” Viserys shouted.
“That's my fucking question!” Daemon shouted back, “You…You Old!”
“You shrunk!”
“The Hell, I’m not! I’m taller than any Tweleve Nameday boy you could name of, you know that! Also, why the fuck are you wearing grandfather crown?”
“Tweleve Nameday?!”
“You forget your own brother's age? How rich of you!” Daemon scoffed then he saw Ser Westerling that stood behind Viserys; he looked older, too; Daemon looked around and saw most people he know seems aged in one night.
How they aged so fast?
“Your grace?” Ser Westerling asked Viserys.
“Call Mellos and Summon Corlys Velaryon, NOW!”
“Your Grace? Why they called you your grace, Vis?” Daemon asked in confusion, “Also, where’s Father, Uncle Aemon, and Grandfather?”
“You don’t know?” he asks.
“If I know, I wouldn’t ask, smart-ass.”
Viserys exhaled deeply, “What was the last thing you remember, Daemon?”
“I heard Uncle Aemon will lead the assault on the Myrish pirates who had conquered the eastern half of Tarth.”
“Oh Lord…” Viserys said while massaging the bridge of his nose.
“What? Why did you react like that?”
Viserys sighs as he embraces Daemon, “It's okay, brother, whatever it is, we will fix it together.”
“Fix what?!” Daemon asks in confusion.