Chapter Text
"Five more minutes," Daemon grumbled, his voice muffled by the pillow.
The maid, Elara, tugged gently at his shoulder. 'My prince, please. You've slept through breakfast, and the king requests your presence."
Daemon didn't budge, the warmth of the bed and the softness of his pillow winning out over his regard for his royal duties.
Elara sighed, her hands on her hips. 'It's nearly noon, my prince! You can't sleep the day away." She attempted to pull the blankets off, but Daemon snatched them back, his eyes still closed. "Go away, Elara. Just five more minutes."
The maid threw up her hands, exasperated. "I'll report it to the king, then," she said, then departed, her footsteps echoing down the hall.
Daemon paid it no mind, snuggling deeper into his bed with a sigh. How wonderful it is to be a teenager, he thought, free from the weight of responsibilities and expectations. He was no fool, he knew it wouldn't last forever. But for now, he was content to enjoy sleeping in as long as he wanted.
The sound of the door opening again signaled Viserys' arrival, and he inwardly groaned. "Really, Daemon," his brother said, his voice tinged with a mix of amusement and frustration, as per usual. "I'm beginning to feel like more of a nursemaid than a king."
Daemon mumbled incoherently into his pillow, burrowing deeper into his blankets.
Viserys sighed, yanking off the covers and grappling with Daemon's limp form. "Come on, get up!" he grunted, struggling against his brother's dead weight. "When did you get so heavy?"
"Since you started going back for seconds at feasts," Daemon retorted, his voice muffled by the pillow.
Viserys responded by grabbing his ankles and pulling. Daemon yelped, clinging to the bedposts for dear life. "Brother, please!" Viserys gritted his teeth, pulling with all his might. "I have a council meeting to attend, and I can't have you sleeping all day!"
Daemon only tightened his grip, and Viserys sagged against the bed, nearly giving up. Then, a sly grin spread across his face. "Oh, Daemon, I forgot to mention... the cooks baked a fresh chocolate cake just for you. It's waiting in the kitchens."
Daemon's eyes snapped open, and he let out an excited cry. "Really!?"
It was all the distraction Viserys needed. With one final heave, he pulled Daemon off of the bed, and the six and ten year old landed on the floor with a thump.
"Ow," he complained, rubbing his now sore head as a lock of his short, silver hair fell over his eyes. He looked up at his brother with a glimmer of hope. "Is there actually cake?" he asked, his voice laced with anticipation.
Viserys' smirk grew wider as he turned to exit the room. "No," he said, his voice dripping with amusement, "but I thought the promise of it might finally get you out of bed."
Daemon's face fell, and he glared at his brother's retreating back. "You're a terrible person, Viserys," he called out, though a hint of a smile played at his lips.
XXX
Daemon sighed exasperatedly, turning another page of in his histories book. Maester Tyrell's test loomed, and he knew the maester would be displeased if he didn't show improvement.
Seeking solace in his favorite study spot, he sat beneath the weirwood tree, the rustling leaves a gentle accompaniment to his reading. As he pondered the text, he ran a hand through his hair, his brow furrowed in concentration.
Seeking a break, Daemon set aside his book and reached for some parchment and charcoal. A bird perched on a nearby branch caught his eye, and he began to sketch, his tongue slipping out as he focused.
The sound of Viserys' approach broke the tranquility, and Daemon's hand jerked, spoiling his sketch with a stray line.
"Are you faring well with your studies?" his brother asked gently, though his eyes twinkled with amusement.
Daemon glared, his eyes raising from his ruined drawing. "You just had to startle me, didn't you?"
Viserys chuckled, ignoring his scowl. "The council meeting's about to start."
"And?" Daemon said shortly, no less irritated than before.
"You are my cupbearer, Daemon. That means you have to attend a council meeting at least once in your life. Besides, it's high time you learned more about the Realm's governance."
Daemon rolled his eyes, his voice filled with sarcasm. "Oh, joy. Can't wait to hear the lords drone on."
Viserys' satisfied smile only grew wider. "I'll take that as a 'yes, brother, I'm eager to serve'."
Daemon ignored the jab, grumbling under his breath as he gathered his things and followed Viserys into the Keep. His reluctance was clear, but he knew better than to defy his brother's wishes.
XXX
"Your Grace," Otto said, bowing to the king before turning to Daemon with a sneer. "Ah, the the young prince," he greeted him, his voice filled with condescension. "We've grown accustomed to serving ourselves wine, but I suppose it's nice to have you join us."
The other lords' chuckles and snickers filled the room, and Daemon's face flushed with anger. "Lord Hightower," he replied, his voice even yet laced with a hint of mischief. "I had the pleasure of encountering your lady wife in the square recently. She looked lovely, and I made sure to compliment her... extensively." he flashed a bright grin. "She seemed quite taken with me, too."
Otto's face reddened as he rose from his seat, striding towards Daemon with a menacing glare. Viserys intervened, however, placing his hand on Otto's shoulder, and halting him mere inches from Daemon's face.
"He's just a boy, Otto, remember how it was at his age," his brother said calmly, though his warning glance at Daemon was unmistakable. "I'm sure he meant no offense, and you know how he delights in making sport of you."
"Of course, Your Grace," Otto said, stepping back, his eyes locked on Daemon's with a mixture of annoyance and none so subtle threat. Daemon smirked, waving him away mockingly, but quickly lowered his hand to rub the back of his neck when Viserys looked his way, his expression still holding a warning.
Daemon attempted an innocent smile, but his brother wasn't fooled, rolling his eyes in exasperation. His brother gestured for Daemon to proceed with his duties, and he hurried over to prepare the wine, pouring the lords' drinks with a flourish.
His movements drew the attention of the council members, who whispered amongst themselves, their eyes darting between him and Viserys. The air was heavy with tension, and Daemon reveled in it, satisfaction filling him.
After completing his tasks, Daemon took his spot in the corner, leaning against the wall with a look of boredom, crossing his ankles. However, his gaze remained fixed on the lords, his eyes piercing as he listened intently, though he remained an air of disinterest.
They droned on, discussing trade agreements and border disputes, but Daemon's presence had unsettled them. They felt his gaze, his silent scrutiny, and it made them squirm.
Daemon's facade slipped when he scoffed at one of Otto's comments, mimicking the Hand's gestures with a mocking hand movement. Otto's gaze drifted over, and he hastily stopped, but not quickly enough.
The Hand's eyes narrowed, his voice dripping with venom. "It seems the prince was too young when Your Grace's lady mother passed to be taught any manners."
Daemon's anger ignited, and he lunged forward, his face inches from Otto's. "Don't you dare," he snarled, his voice trembling with fury and unshed tears. He jabbed an accusing finger at Otto, his eyes blazing.
Viserys pulled him away, but not before Daemon caught a glimpse of the Hand's ashen face. That small victory brought him solace as his brother escorted him out of the room, stopping in a nearby corridor.
Daemon's chest heaved as he struggled to restrain his tears, the memories of their mother's passing still as raw as the day it'd happened. His nurse had feared for his life, and it had taken months for him to recover.
Viserys watched him with pity, which only fueled Daemon's anger. "Brother-" he started, but stopped when Daemon raised a hand, silencing him. He couldn't bear to hear another excuse of Otto's behavior. Viserys always seemed to side with those he didn't share blood with, always leaving his own family in the dark.
The silence stretched before his brother spoke, his voice soft. "I'm sorry, Daemon. That was uncalled for. I will speak to Otto."
Daemon nodded curtly, his eyes fixed on the floor, his gaze lingering there even after Viserys departed.
A plan began to form in his mind, a scheme to exact revenge on Otto, and reclaim his dignity. A slow, sinister smile spread across his face as he whispered to himself, "And I have the perfect idea..."
XXX
The next morning followed its usual routine, with Viserys dragging Daemon out of bed. But the daily council meeting would be anything but ordinary.
Daemon had spent half the night setting his trap, fueled by his desire for revenge against Otto. He had meticulously constructed a spring in the Hand's chair, cleverly disguising it with a light-colored wire that blended into the surroundings seamlessly.
The wire was connected to a basket filled with eggs, suspended in the rafters above. When Otto sat down, the spring would trigger the basket to topple, covering the Hand in a messy, humiliating deluge.
And Daemon would be there to witness it, hiding in Maegor's secret passages, his face concealed in the shadows to avoid detection. He watched with bated breath as the lords filed in, struggling to resist his laughter.
Otto's scowl deepened as he greeted Viserys, likely still fuming over his brother's reprimand. "Good morrow, Your Grace," he said stiffly, his voice filled with tension. Viserys inclined his head, his expression serene. "Good morrow, Otto."
As the Hand moved to sit, Daemon's excitement grew. He rubbed his hands together, mentally counting down the seconds until the trap sprang.
It was almost instantaneous. The eggs crashed onto Otto's head with a loud splat, staining his hair and clothes a vibrant yellow. The Hand spat, yolk dripping from his mouth. "Who is responsible for this?" he screeched, his face purpling with rage.
The other lords struggled to contain their mirth, Lord Corlys laughing openly. "It seems Prince Daemon has exacted his revenge," he chuckled.
Otto spluttered, his face a deep shade of crimson. Daemon's imagination ran wild, picturing steam emanating from Otto's ears. The mental image sent him into fits of laughter, betraying his hiding place.
"Your Grace, you must do something!" Otto bellowed upon hearing Daemon's giggles. "Daemon," Viserys called, his voice firm.
Daemon emerged from the passageway, still grinning. "Yes, brother?" he asked, feigning innocence.
Viserys gestured him over, his expression stern. As Daemon approached, he caught Otto's gaze, the Hand's smug expression even more infuriating with egg still dripping from his hair. Daemon stuck his tongue out at Otto, earning a subtle eye-roll from Viserys.
But instead of the expected scolding, his brother guided him to a corner, his face splitting into a smile. "That was quite clever, terribly clever," Viserys said, his shoulders shaking with laughter. "How did you manage it?"
Daemon stared at him, shocked, taking a moment to recover. "Oh, just a bit of creativity," he replied, trying to sound nonchalant.
Viserys chuckled, wiping tears from his eyes. "Otto's not amused, however. He's demanding your head on a spike."
Daemon nodded, still stunned, his mind racing to make sense of what had just transpired. Viserys' expression turned serious, though a hint of amusement lingered in his eyes. "Usually, I'd be reprimanding you, but after yesterday... let's just say Otto had it coming."
Daemon's eyes widened, taken aback at his brother's words. Viserys winked at him, before turning back to the council, adding under his breath, "Remember to look contrite, Daemon."
His brother's voice turned stern once more, addressing the council. "Let us continue, my lords. My brother will be retiring to his chambers."
As he went to exit the room, Daemon shot a glance at Viserys, nodding to maintain the charade. He scowled, storming out, his face a mask of indignation.
But once out of earshot, he couldn't restrain his laughter any longer. Tears of mirth streamed down his face as he struggled to catch his breath.
Maybe, just maybe his brother wasn't as one-dimensional as he'd thought.