[Chapter Size: 2200 Words.]
Third Person POV.
Winterfell.
...
...
Daemon settled into the Iron Throne and looked at his men.
"Now, please, call that knight from the south." He said calmly, while keeping the Winter Throne within storage.
It took a few minutes, but soon Barristan Selmy came to him, guided by his men, as he stared at Daemon with a stupefied look. He obviously did not expect to find the Iron Throne, upon which Daemon was now seated, after having replaced the Winter Throne.
The gleam of recognition came to the knight as soon as he entered the hall, looking at the throne that, for much of his life, had been the disgrace of king after king, whom he served.
And the last of the kings Ser Barristan Selmy served was the first king to don a crown and not have that throne to sit upon, since the Conquest... He still had fresh memories of countless audiences complaining, insulting, and cursing Daemon for having stolen the Iron Throne, where according to Joffrey the rightful heir should sit.
He had never sat upon it, which was frustrating for the young king. The history books would never fail to record the fact that the throne was stolen during the coronation, being the first time a king had faced such an awkward situation. He would be a joke in the history of Westeros because of his first day as king, with the maesters recording this moment.
In any case, Barristan stepped a few paces forward, kneeling before Daemon.
Daemon looked to the sides and saw a man of the free folk staring at him like guards, but no one said anything, only looked somewhat confused with their own gaze upon him. They certainly did not know what he wanted, and Jon needed someone speaking his titles at that moment.
He only sighed. He needed someone to present him formally, but he only had men of the free folk with him in Winterfell at that moment, who possessed no knowledge of the customs of the south. Not that he could blame them. He only turned his gaze forward again, to face the kneeling knight.
"Barristan Selmy, the man who became Kingsguard and was knighted to the Kingsguard by Aegon V Targaryen, before Aerys, then served King Aerys and Prince Rhaegar. After the fall of the prince, you turned to Robert Baratheon with the intention of following him, even though your king was still alive in King's Landing. As far as I know, you should be under the command of Joffrey Waters, the bastard of Cersei and Jaime Lannister — yes, Joffrey Waters, for I recognize no other. Now you stand before Daemon Targaryen, son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. Tell me, what is a White Cloak — no less than their commander — doing before me without your armor and not even the sword I saw you wield in King's Landing?" Daemon said calmly from his chair.
He noticed that the sword the knight bore at his waist was not the same, being only a secondhand blade, nothing like the weapon he used in King's Landing when he fought against Daemon.
"I threw it away, Your Majesty." Said the knight, looking at Daemon.
"Why?" Daemon asked.
No man simply abandoned the Kingsguard, and Daemon could not allow himself to accept someone who had betrayed the former king he served. He would never let a man with questionable loyalty offer his services, as he seemed to be doing at that moment.
"I was dismissed from my duties before coming here." He said, with a tone of frustration and shame, while Daemon raised an eyebrow.
"Who would think of dismissing you from your duties?" Daemon murmured, surprised. This man was nothing less than a legendary knight sworn to the king's service, and even with their disagreements, Daemon recognized the value of his name.
The man was practically a legend throughout Westeros. Daemon could end him easily, but there was no doubt that he had a name and skills greater than most of those who called themselves knights. He could raise allies just by being kept at the side of whoever he served.
"Why did they remove you from your duties? I don't understand." Daemon couldn't help but ask before the knight could respond to the murmur of the previous king; Daemon's mind was consumed by doubt.
"The queen and the king have been doing rather questionable things in King's Landing." He replied with a grim expression.
"Like killing babies, isn't it?" Daemon suggested, while the man nodded.
"Yes. The queen ordered the slaughter of several babies who appeared to be the king's bastards..." Barristan replied with a deeply disturbed tone.
"I see... perhaps they saw you as a threat in the face of such vile actions, being the commander of the Kingsguard." Daemon guessed, bringing his hand to his chin as he reflected on it. Seeing this, Barristan Selmy broke the silence.
"I would like to serve you, Your Majesty. I would like to serve the son of Rhaegar." He said, while Daemon still held command of the situation, curious about the declaration.
"You wish to follow under my banner?" Daemon turned to him, and he only nodded.
"Yes. There is no doubt about who you are. I saw some resemblance to my prince from the moment I first laid eyes on you... and also, taming a dragon speaks much of your blood. I would like to protect you, to stand by your side on the battlefield." Said Barristan, staring firmly at Daemon, wanting to show that his words were true.
Daemon observed him for a moment in silence.
"We were enemies in King's Landing. I mocked you for having served so many kings... and yet, you still desire this?" Daemon asked.
"I believe your words are not without truth, Your Majesty. But I have always been faithful to my vows..." Said Barristan, while Daemon could not help but feel a spark of anger.
"I do not know if I can be so lenient, Selmy. You joined King Robert as soon as my father fell at the Trident. You saw the bodies of my brothers in King's Landing and yet you followed those who took part in that massacre for over nineteen years. Tell me, Barristan Selmy, why should I trust a knight like you, with such a history, after my father's family was slain while under the command of my enemies for so long?" Daemon spoke harshly.
"I only made an oath, Your Majesty." Barristan began. "At the Trident, after your father fell, I believed I could fight for your brothers, the heirs of Rhaegar. I wanted to be their sword in a trial by combat, it was the only chance to fight for them once more. And the only way to get out of there alive was by making the oath. However, when we arrived in King's Landing, all we found were corpses... and I was already bound to that oath. I could not go back anymore. You may call me many things, but never an oathbreaker. Because I never broke one. I am only here because the king himself ended my service. And I wish to serve a worthy king."
Daemon stared at him for a long moment.
He did not know Barristan Selmy's history in depth, but he knew the man was not wrong: he had always followed his oaths. And Daemon could feel some truth in his intentions when he spoke about having tried to help his brothers.
"Well, I will not say that I will trust you immediately, but you will remain here until I make a decision. I expect you to show your worth. If you have it, I will place you under the Kingsguard." Daemon said in the end, while Barristan Selmy nodded.
"One more thing... how did you end up here? I don't think it's easy that you came unnoticed from the south." Daemon asked.
"I managed to disguise myself, avoiding the troops since I arrived on a clandestine ship at White Harbor. I did not speak to the Manderlys or your uncle, nor to anyone, I just advanced north.
I passed by Stannis's scouts, by some ironborn, until I began to encounter your troops, who had already taken everything. When I was in White Harbor, I heard people saying that you marched south, but even so I advanced to Winterfell, where I believed I would have a better chance of finding you. When I arrived here, the castle had already fallen, so I stayed hidden for a day until I saw your dragon arriving." He said, while Daemon reflected. It seemed reasonable.
"Very well. Ask them to get you a room in the guard's floor." Daemon ordered.
"Thank you, Your Majesty." Said Barristan, bowing his head before standing and beginning to leave.
"Call in more men who want an audience." Daemon informed his guards, who nodded and headed outside.
Soon, more people began to enter, creating a series of audiences with him. Each of them was stunned upon seeing the Iron Throne, different from the old throne, but they did not say much, not knowing for sure what it meant.
Farmers, merchants, and common folk from the city came to speak with him. Daemon had to wait for the lords to arrive in the coming days, so he took the opportunity to talk about the problems the people faced — and there were many. There had been the recent attack from the ironborn, as well as the abuses committed by the Boltons.
They asked for food, a place to sleep, coats so they would not die from the cold, and above all, they asked for justice. Ah, how they asked for justice!
Daemon replied that the ironborn were already condemned in the North, and that soon he would launch an attack against Pyke, even before marching south with his entire army. The people were suffering in ways they had never seen before, but he assured them that this would be ended.
Daemon spent the rest of the day listening to the people who wanted to speak with him. The news that the king was in Winterfell, holding public audiences, soon spread. The throne room grew fuller and fuller, and the line did not diminish — on the contrary, it grew longer.
At the end of the day, Daemon had to dismiss everyone, but not before ordering the distribution of a good quantity of food stores and clothing, as well as providing shelters. Many villages had been destroyed in the region, but luckily, there were still abandoned houses in Winterfell where people could spend the night. After all, many of their former inhabitants had been killed.
"My lord, dinner is almost ready." A servant approached him, but Daemon dismissed her.
"I will go to dinner later. I want to resolve something first." He said, standing up. He took control and advanced outside.
No one said anything as he went directly to the crypts, asking some people to stay at the entrance, while he entered and went further in.
Once again, he stood before his mother's statue.
"I have waited too long..." Daemon murmured before looking at the ground.
He raised his hand and all the dirt began to move away from the floor, revealing the cleaner stone beneath. Daemon took a small jar from his dimensional space, along with a knife. He placed the jar on the ground and cut his left hand, closing it as the blood began to drip directly into the container.
He let about three hundred milliliters of blood fall before beginning to close the wound. Quickly, he dipped his finger in the blood and began to draw several symbols older than the symbols of Skyrim or those used by the children of the forest — they were Daedric runes.
He began to circle in front of his mother's statue, completing several symbols until reaching the main symbol at the center. It would be a summoning mark.
He stepped back, analyzing the lines of blood. He raised the palm of his right hand and then his eyes began to glow, shifting from purple to yellow.
"Xar'thuun Veylin...
Molag-Baleth Nox Aeterna...
Naqthar sul Vey, draemora uth nul."
He began to recite in a strange tongue, keeping his voice calm, while his eyes emitted an even more intense light.
All the blood on the floor also began to glow, changing from red to purple, while Daemon kept his palm raised, his eyes shining brightly as he continued reciting his dark words.
"Kael'vuhn Oziim...
Nirn-tha Vey...
Daedra Saan, Princessa uth!"
The next moment, a flash appeared. A form took shape in a purple portal that opened above the ground. From the rift, a creature emerged, staring at Daemon with yellow eyes.
"To summon me into this world, where I cannot enter, knowing that the price will not be small... it must be something quite important to you, Dragonborn." The figure said in an amused tone, while Daemon looked at the being, his eyes returning to normal.
"It's been a while..." Was all he said, staring at the Daedric princess.
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