ethanjory

Precipice of War: The Reboot Bugaloo

Despite thinking that stretching out WWI to 1929 is a bit silly for various reasons, I do have some interest. Unsure of who would be interesting to play in this scenario, though.

Persona and Yu-Gi-Oh Inspired High School Trading Card RP

Only interested if I can be one of those cheerleader friends who only stands on the sidelines saying cliched things about friendship.

The Dance of Dragons - (ASoI&F) (GoT) - [Openly Recruiting]

Just as Lord Ormund had predicted, another raven eventually arrived at the Hightower, once again with news from King's Landing. Upon being led to the rookery, Daeron quickly noted that it was the largest raven that he had ever saw, though he couldn't exactly be sure since he wasn't exactly familiar with ravens. It did look like it could fly farther and for longer than a normal raven, but he didn't know why he would be worthy of such special treatment. Half the small council now consisted of close family members, so he ultimately came to the conclusion that he should stop being surprised over such things. Maester Trebayn proceeded to read aloud the letter, which proved to be both short and blunt. By the end Lord Ormund was grinding his teeth and Daeron only wished that it had been longer and more personal. Nothing that asked about his wellbeing, nor being recalled back to King's Landing for his father's funeral... just a royal missive for him to go to the Eyrie to court the Arryns to join his brother's cause, and that was it. He could only frown when the words finally came to an end.

Lord Ormund began to rub his temples as he turned towards Daeron. "I had hoped that the small council would have seen the value of keeping you here under my protection, instead of flinging you off to the other side of Westeros aimlessly."

"My lord," Maester Trebayn began as he directly addressed Lord Ormund, "if I may?" As the maester finished his question, Daeron couldn't help but to recognize the interesting dichotomy between both of the older men. The prince didn't exactly know how tall Ormund was, but it had to be well over six feet if he had to guess. The maester on the other hand was smaller than even Daeron, who was already significantly shorter than either of his brothers. The chain around his neck hung nearly to his waist, forged from countless different metal links, and it was a common enough rumor in the Hightower that Trebayn had once been a candidate for the position of Grand Maester, though the reasons as to why he was passed over was likely unknown to all, other than the maester himself. Though both the lord and the maester were generally both men of few words, it was clear that whenever Trebayn spoke, it was to give wise counsel, wisdom, or advice. As for Lord Ormund, he just disliked ever having to repeat himself, and despite always heeding the words of those subordinate to him, once he got set on a path, he'd see it through to the end. In this capacity, Daeron realized, the two suited one another quite well.

As Lord Ormund gave his consent, the maester continued. "You prepare for war... which is the sensible thing to do in these... times. However, you must remember that such tides have yet to wash over Westeros. Is it not wiser for the rightful king to make as many friends, as many allies as possible, to hopefully dissaude Princess Rhaenyra from taking up arms against King Aegon? And Daeron would surely be honored to have such an opportunity to potentially usher in peace." Daeron's head jerked towards the maester upon hearing those last few words, and his gaze was met with a smile, even though he had a sinking feeling that Trebayn wasn't entirely interested in looking out for his wellbeing.

"You don't know Rhaenyra and Daemon very well do you?" Ormund sighed. "But aye, you have much of the right of it. We have to push as many houses onto our side as possible, either with force or by words, if only to lessen the advantages that the other side already holds. Still, I do wish the small council would honor me for once by not making things needlessly more difficult." He turned towards Daeron, who had yet to speak. "Tell us your thoughts on this, as it will be your burden if you plan to follow through with this."

Although he seemed to be presented with a choice, Daeron truly knew that it was a falsehood, as there was no way he could defy his brother, even if he wasn't King... he had gained enough scars by learning that. "I don't want war, no more than anyone else, and if I can do anything to help... then I have to push forward without hesitation."

Ormund only gave Daeron a glance, as if he had something in particular to say to his squire, only to ultimately keep it to himself. "If it had been up to me, I would have sent you for Highgarden, to prod the Tyrells into action. I can give you half a dozen good men and horse to get you started for the Eyrie as soon as possible."

"There's no need," Daeron said firmly. "I was planning to ride Tessarion there." There was no faster way to travel than by dragon, and this was a matter of expedience, should Rhaenyra and her council come to the same conclusion. Though, in honesty, it had been far too long since Daeron had the last opportunity to ride Tessarion for an extended period, and he certainly didn't want to pass that over. He hadn't been apart from Tessarion since they truly bonded, and what was a Targaryen worth without his dragon?

Ormund gave him a piercing look that made Daeron feel like a child who spoke out of turn. Noise grew amongst the ravens as if they could feel the same pressure that was emanating from the towering lord of Oldtown. "I would highly advise against that," Ormund put simply. "If I remember correctly, Lady Jeyne and Princess Rhaenyra were inseparable as girls. Those feelings for one another likely still exist, and if you were to go there alone... your safety may be in question."

"The Arryns are an honorable house, are they not?" Daeron argued. "I don't think they would strike against any guest of theirs, no matter who they may be."

"Wouldn't stop her from throwing you in one of their sky cells and formally declare for her childhood friend. You'd be a valuable hostage."

Maester Trebayn then cut into the conversation, as if he had been a part of it all along. "If I remind you, my lord, but Lady Jeyne Arryn has yet to declare for either side. Why is that?"

"Prince Daemon," Ormund said without hesitation. "The man has an unnatural talent for burning bridges, sometimes literally... especially during peacetime. War is what he was truly made for, and that is what frightens me."

"More the reason to try to prevent war." Maester Trebayn added.

"Even if I can't get her on Aegon's side, perhaps I can still convince her to sit out the war. Not all of Westeros have to bleed for the Iron Throne." He knew that speaking to Lady Jeyne alone would be a uphill battle, but he had always gotten along well with other people, even if most still saw him as a boy. Who else could they have sent? Aemond? He was far too confrontational. Negotations would end before they even began, assuming he didn't fall into one of his moods and threaten to burn down the entire castle. No, it had to be him, he couldn't imagine anyone else.

"Very well. You'll need provisions for the journey, even if it's upon dragonback. Leave by the morrow, it does sound like you're in a hurry." With that, he turned and left the rookery, descending down the stairs, but he gave Daeron one final glance. "Oh, and once you're finished at the Eyrie, return here. You're still my squire, and that's a fact that even the new king needs to acknowledge." Then he disappeared completely, with the maester soon scuttling after him. This left Daeron alone, his only company being that that of the sqawking ravens, who grew noisier by the second.
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Daeron didn't speak again with Ormund again prior to his departure, though he did actively work in getting Daeron ready for his diplomatic mission. Even if he was going upon a dragon, he didn't want to push Tessarion so hard... he'd take an easy pace and arrive within a few days. He had no intention of stopping to rest at an inn, and seeking shelter with a noble lord was entirely out of the question, as it was nearly impossible to exactly determine who was on each side at this point. Besides, he had grown up hearing tales of Larys Clubfoot's massive spy network, and he couldn't risk whether or not his half-sister didn't already have a master of whispers that was his equal. With the necessary supplies filling his sizeable pack, he made sure to fasten a sword to his belt. It was the one given to him by his father right before he left for Oldtown, and though he doubted he would have use for it, it still was comforting to have a memento of his father with him for this journey. He knew he could find additional courage if his father was watching over him.

The clothes that he would be wearing weren't any elaborate or grand- even if the way to the Eyrie was greatly expediated by flight, he still valued being comfortable for the journey over looking nice. Besides, he doubted Lady Jeyne would care much for how he looked, even if that very thought made both of Daeron's cheeks redden a bit. He would be wearing little more than a leather jerkin, worn over a longsleeved linen shirt, along with trousers of sturdy material, and leather boots. He also had gloves and a travel cloak, as it does get frightenly cold when one flies high enough, though the heat that emanates from a dragon's scales does much to mitigate some of it.

By this time, he had already descended the stairs to the courtyard where Tessarion was often kept. She was unchained, courtesy of the servants, and he would have loved to see their attempts at getting her chains off. She wasn't very aggressive generally, but she was still a dragon. And once again, she knew that he was coming. Daeron didn't know if it was because she could smell him, sense him, or if it was some kind of magic unknown to all except for dragons. Whatever the case may be, she watched him attentively, keeping an eye on his every step as he got closer and closer. She greeted him as she often did, nuzzling her nose into him to the point where he was nearly pushed to the ground, but like so many times before, he managed to stay on his feet, if only barely. Her body, of course, was warm to the touch, partly due to the sun that was hanging in the sky high above them, but also due to the fires that raged within. Cold winds were blowing, both figuratively and literally, and Daeron was glad that he would have Tessarion at his side for the coming days.

He securely fastened anything important so that it wouldn't come flying off when they took off, and looked at the dragon with a wide grin on his face. "You ready, Tess?" The blue dragon gave an affirmative roar, which probably terrified anyone who had the misfortune of being within earshot. Despite Daeron being at the Hightower these past two years, nearly everyone was still wary of Tessarion, though he supposed he couldn't truly blame them- one needed the blood of Old Valyria to truly understand. Aemond would probably call them sheep, though Daeron was far less harsh when it came to non-dragon riders. Before he got on Tessarion, Daeron had one last fleeting thought towards the Hightower itself. He thought back on the last two years that he had spent there, and though not every memory was necessarily pleasant, it all contributed to shaping him into what he was now- nearly a man grown. He had every intention of following through with Lord Ormund's intentions... except that Daeron intended to stop at King's Landing before heading back to Oldtown. There was really no question in his mind that he had to do that. He wanted to pray in front of his father's resting place, he still had such a right to do so, didn't he? And more importantly, he wanted to see his family. He had so many unanswered questions swirling around in his head, things that he didn't know that he rightfully should. So much had changed in such a short amount of time... he feared that he would see nothing but strangers in his brothers. He gave a sigh before finally getting on Tessarion- he couldn't let himself be dragged down when he still had a greater mission to achieve.

If Tessarion was truly the Blue Queen, then her domain must be the skies themselves. She took off from the ground below with such a smoothness and quickness, that it should be clear to all that she was the nimblest of all the dragons, with only a few exceptions. As they got higher, the buildings of Oldtown became smaller, and the people grew into ants before disappearing completely. The Hightower was aptly named, and it would be something that he'd look back on for miles... until he couldn't, and that would be when he would know that it would only be him and Tessarion from there on out. He took care to fly high and away from heavily used roads. This was far from some kind of stealth mission, but he preferred to take such precautions. Anyone spotting a dragon flying over head wouldn't be quick to forget, and he didn't want to potentially jeopardize his safety or anyone else's. Flying at such an altitude was deathly cold to Daeron, and he had to make Tessarion dip much lower every so often so that he didn't end up freezing to death. Tessarion didn't seem to mind either way- the cold winds didn't really seem to affect the dragon.

The trip ended up largely uneventful, in which Daeron was perfectly content with. His greatest fear was a confrontation. Risking his own life was one thing, but also putting Tessarion in danger? He just wasn't ready to make that choice, and hoped that he'd never need to, either. When needing to rest, they did so in the remote countryside, far away from any roads or pockets of civilization. He allowed Tessarion to hunt to feed herself, and she often brought back something for him as well, which usually beat the pack of salted beef that he had brought with him. Travelling alone with Tessarion seemed like the fulfillment of his wildest dreams, and it took much of his resolve to not abandon his mission entirely. What he wouldn't give to have the ability to travel the world with his dragon to see all the wonders of man, of great cities only heard of in story tales... but he knew better. He had so many people relying on him and he couldn't fail them. He had learned from his father that a man has nothing without their family. In that, he wholeheartedly believed in, even if it meant coming into conflict with his half-sister.

By the time he had reached the mountains of the Vale, he had begun to fly noticeably lower. Concealing his presence was quickly becoming a moot point, and the air had become far colder than Daeron was used to after two years in Oldtown. He didn't know if it was the air or the beauty of the mountains themselves, but every so often, he could feel his breath catch in his throat as he admired all the scenery that was seemingly engulfing him. It pained him that he wouldn't be afforded the opportunity to fully enjoy them while he was here, as the pressure of his monumental task was only beginning to weigh on him. As he followed the mountain road, he soon noticed the heavy snows that had already fallen. Winter is soon upon us, Daeron thought to himself, even if it has yet to be felt fully in the south.

The snow would have slowed him to a crawl if he had chosen conventional means of travel, if the fearsome mountain clans didn't pick him off before then. He would have had to travel in a large party, and even that wouldn't guarantee his safety. Before long, he entered a narrow pass that fed into a massive gate, watched over by twin towers. Daeron had heard the stories of countless armies smashing themselves against the Bloody Gate to no avail, but he had a dragon and could just fly above it if he wished to. But why should he entitle himself to a different standard just because he happened to be a dragon rider? He was better than no other man who had come to the gate before, and should be received as the same. Tessarion descended swiftly to the the ground below and made a loud crunch in the snow once she made contact. All was silent and still before him, not so much as a sign of life could be detected, but Daeron knew the gate was manned by dozens of knights. Were they baffled that he had not just flown over instead? Or was this the first time that they had ever seen a dragon and were scared at what he could potentially unleash upon them all? Tessarion, growing impatient, let out a deafening roar, only growing louder as it echoed into the mountains.

At that, an answer was finally returned. A booming voice that showed no signs of fear or hesitation, putting forward a simple question. "Who would pass the Bloody Gate?"

The reality of the situation hit Daeron upon hearing those few words. After coming from such a distance, he was practically a stone's throw away from the Eyrie itself. He felt so very small when compared to the gate iself, to the mountains, to everything. However, he knew that he hadn't come all this way to be seen trembling with fear or cold. He sat up straight, but remained on his dragon, figuring it was a wiser course of action to associate himself with a large, fire-breathing beast.

"I am Prince Daeron Targaryen, third living son of the late King Viserys Targaryen, the First of His Name. I come before you under a banner of peace and friendship, as an envoy of the one rightful king of these lands, Aegon Targaryen, the Second of His Name. I humbly beseech upon you the right to enter further into your lands so I may find audience with your liege lady, Jeyne Arryn. Insofar that we may discuss the dangers that the future holds for all of Westeros and how we may ably face them, together."

Silence. Then a man appeared, as did others, but this one had red and white diamonds upon his surcoat. This must be the Knight of the Bloody Gate, Daeron thought to himself. "And who goes with you?"

For a moment, Daeron's breath once again caught in his throat. "None other than the dragon Tessarion, who is as magestic and beautiful of a beast than has ever lived before." At that Tessarion gave Daeron an angry look at the mention of the word 'beast'. He'd have to thoroughly apologize to her later.

Then began a discussion among all the knights, far out of earshot of Daeron, though he strained the best that he could to hear even a snippet of a word. When they finally came to a consensus, the Knight of the Bloody Gate turned back to face Daeron. "A raven shall be sent to the Eyrie, and you may pass through these gates, but you may go no farther than the Gates of the Moon until you receive blessing from Lady Jeyne herself to head up to the Eyrie itself. Is that understood?"

Daeron nodded. "I appreciate the kindness-"

"No kindness," the knight grunted. "Too many bloody dragons flying about. Keeping you grounded will give everyone peace of mind."

Dragons? Did he mean that there was more than one dragon now in the Vale? Or was it just a figure of speech? Before Daeron could inquire further all the knights present stood aside as massive gate came screeching open, allowing Daeron entry into the Mountains of the Moon. Daeron looked back upon the knight, but he clearly wasn't interested in an interrogation. He kept silent, steadying himself on his dragon, and went on, ready for the trials and tribulations that would soon come before him.

Galaxy Aflame! A space opera RP

okay

The Dance of Dragons - (ASoI&F) (GoT) - [Openly Recruiting]

Daeron Targaryen
The Hightower, Oldtown, Westeros

His father was dead. A rush of emotions went thorugh Daeron upon hearing the news, though none of them was surprise. It had been a shadow hanging over him ever since his father had to postpone his last visit to Oldtown due to his health, and it was further cemented when the delay became indefinite. He even did his duty as son when he was dragged to the sept by a group of highborn girls to pray for the king's health. He only managed mumble out a few lines before his face grew red and he rushed out of the sept. They would giggle to themselves whenever they saw him after that, and all he could manage was turn his head away in shame. Still, he now wished that he had spent more time in prayer, in case the gods were listening for once and it would have made the difference.

He had held no allusions that he had a closeness to his father like his half-sister Rhaenyra, but his father had existed as being bigger than life to Daeron while he was growing up, with his thick beard and jovial smile. Sometimes he wasn't sure if he would still love his brothers if they weren't related to each other, but he knew the same couldn't be said of his father. If he was taught anything, it was to support and love your family, something that was clearly lost on his brothers and Rhaenyra. Daeron had always been aware of his freedom as the youngest, even if it made him into more of an afterthought than anything else. It ultimately led him to become much different than his brothers, even if he didn't exactly realize it himself.

He had been in the training yards with the other boys around his age, including Robin Redwyne, Willum Bulwer, and others that tended to group around him, when Maester Trebayn pulled him to the side to let him know that Lord Ormund required his presence. This had taken Daeron aback, after all this was one of his days of leisure in which he didn't have to directly serve the lord of the Hightower, and Lord Ormund wasn't the kind of man who cared much for Daeron's royal status, working him the same as any other boy who could have been named his cupbear or squire. The reason as to why Lord Ormund would need to see him raced through his mind, progressively becoming worse and worse, until Daeron shook it off, thanked the maester, and began to head towards Lord Ormund's study. He had taken plenty of bruises from the wooden practice swords in the training yard, and had even took one to his temple, which throbbed each time he placed a foot on each stone step. It was called the Hightower for good reason, and by the time he came the door of Lord Ormund's study, he felt as if his head was about to explode.

He rapped the old oak door a few times to announce his arrival and was soon answered.

"Enter."

Lord Ormund's voice was cold and consise, something that would have been better suited on a battlefield or devising strategy among other highborn lords than to a lowly squire such as Daeron, even if he was still technically a prince. The room was among the smallest within the Hightower, a bit cramped, but probably the most conducive when it came to balancing finances and performing the necessary duties of a lord alone. It even sported a small library of its own, with successive lords of the Hightower adding to it over the years. It was separate from the main library, but both were put to shame by massive one at the Citadel. There were plenty of scholars who came there to study, especially if they had no interest in being under the scrutinizing gaze of maesters. Lord Ormund wasn't a man who was particulary interested in shoving his nose inbetween two pages, so most of the books served little purpose than to collect dust, but they remained, if only for his respect to those who came before him.

Lord Orumund had his back turned to Daeron, standing next to an intricately carved oaken table to the left, pouring wine from a pitcher into a glass. As to what kind of wine it could be, Daeron had rarely drinken any in his life,his mother had seen to that. Except for the times Aegon and Aemond smuggled some when they were much younger, of course. Lord Ormund motioned towards an empty chair next to a desk that was nestled between the back corner of the room and a bookcase.

"Sit."

Daeron went over and sat in the chair, growing all the more nervous with each passing second. He had been in this room many times before, to serve his cousin with a variety of different matters, but had never sat in this chair. However, he had witnessed many important people do so on many occasions. He felt his cousin come up behind him, and place the glass in front of Daeron, still not giving away why he had called the young prince here to meet in private.

"Drink."

At first Daeron only sipped it, taken aback by how it was both sour and sweet at the same time, but when he saw Ormund shake his head, he chugged the rest of it, making him lightheaded and removing the headache that he had before. Lord Ormund then sat across from Daeron, fiddling with a piece of parchment that could only have been a message carried by a raven , which served as the messenger system for all of Westeros, maintained by every maester. "Your father," Ormund began, finally showing some sign of empathy, "is dead."

The news had hit Daeron with the amount of force that would have hit any other boy upon learning about the death of a family member, with time slowing and reality itself feeling surreal. As if this was just some fantasy and he was asleep at bed, none the wiser. The wine did little to alleviate the knot that was growing in his gut, and he sort of wished he had more to drink. Imagining never seeing his father again alive was wholly unsettling, and made him want to rush to King's Landing right then and there just to see the rest of his family.

Lord Ormund only threw the piece of paper on his desk in disgust. "If I had known the king's illness had worsened to such a degree... I would have had you sent for King's Landing immediately. A son should have the right to be at side of his father when he's on his deathbed. And noot so much as a single raven from my uncle or anyone else!"

Daeron had wished that they would have sent a raven as well, but they must of had some kind of reason for doing so, he knew neither of his brothers would be malicious about something like that. But with Rhaenyra the new queen, he just didn't know. His half-sister was more a stranger to him than nearly anyone else.
"I'd have you packing your things for King's Landing right now, if it wasn't for this other news." Ormund picked up the message again, if only to make absolutely sure he didn't miss a single detail from it. "Your brother has been crowned king."

Aegon? Even he knew that it had been his father's wish to pass the crown to his half-sister, and had never once thought about the ramifications that would come upon his father's death. "Then that means..."

"War. Plain and simple." Lord Ormund crumpled the message and tossed it back to the table. "I have no issue in seeing your brother crowned, lad. Just the way they went about it, scheming and in the shadows." He grinded his teeth as that single thought left his mouth. "But's it's done, and we have to live with it."

"I should go to King's Landing right now!" Daeron blurted out. "I'll need to help Aegon and Aemond."

Ormund gave Daeron one of his cold stares. "You'll be staying here. I'm still responsible for your wellbeing and won't have my squire go out on his on accord to King's Landing, which happens to be only a stone's throw away from Dragonstone." He had brought the wine pitcher with him to the table, and proceeded to pour some out of it into his own cup and took a long hard drink.

"Half the Reach is likely to rise up against us, with the mother and babe at Highgarden sitting the conflict out and doing nothing." He looked at his own empty glass with disappointment, but refrained from adding any more wine.

"War isn't certain..." Daeron began, but even he wasn't completely sure of the words that were coming out of his mouth. "I don't know what, but there has to be something we can do." At that Ormund only gave him a hard look, and got to his feet, guesturing for Daeron to follow. They made their way to the balcony that was connected to the study, and being one of the higher rooms within the Hightower itself, offered a stunning view of harbor of Oldtown below. Daeron could only make out specks of what he assumed were people below, but he easily made note of the ships coming in and out of the harbor, proving to all why Oldtown was the largest and most prosperous of the cities of Westeros.

"I did say that I was responsble for you, lad." Ormund began, as he scratched his short graying beard. "But this," Ormund said as he motioned towards all that was in front of them, "is everything else that I'm responsible for. Oldtown, the Honeywine, up to the Florents in Brightwater Keep and everything in between. The people, no matter who they are or what they believe in, or if they even care about who sits that metal chair, they all look at me for protection and guidance. Every last one."

Ormund sighed. "I don't relish to see war come to this land, nor would I wish it upon my worst enemies. I do I have an obligation to these people, my house, and my family..." Ormund paused as he gave a glance to Daeron. "War was coming ever since King Viserys took your mother and my cousin as wife. Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon will not accept anything less than the Iron Throne."

Daeron knew that Aegon wouldn't be any different, even if it meant his head on a spike along with the rest of his family. That was a grim thought for him, as he couldn't imagine Rhaenyra becoming a kinslayer. But what did he know of war or the changes that it could cause in people? He only knew that he truly didn't want to see any of his family kill each other, for whatever reason, legitimate or not. "You can't truly expect me to wait and do nothing?"

"Wait, aye, because you alone can do nothing. There likely will be a parley between both sides, should neither side do anything foolish before then. It'll accomplish nothing, as neither side will yield an inch." Ormund cast his gaze towards the north and everything that lay beyond. "It's better to stay here, the both of us. To raise an army and pacify the Reach as quickly possible- that will end the war more quickly- nothing else. Unless, of course, the new king directs you elsewhere, of which I'd be honorbound to oblige."

Daeron gritted his teeth. He felt so helpless, so powerless. How could a dragonrider be reduced to such, when he could take to the sky at will when so few could? He had half a mind to fly to Dragonstone himself, confront Rhaenyra, and figure out a way to end all of this. Ormund's words rang true to him, however, and he knew he couldn't go off on his own without his brother's knowledge or approval. This just made him desperately wish that he or his grandfather had added additional directives for him in that message. In the coming days, he'd just have to relent on these feelings and aid his cousin in whatever capacity that he could. The older man noticed this and the corner of his mouth twitched upwards, which was as much of a genuine smile as you'd ever get out of Lord Ormund Hightower.

"Take the rest of the day to mourn, lad. And tomorrow? Kill the boy, only men can go to war."

Daeron nodded and left the study, rushing down the old steps of the tower. Frome one step at a time, he rapidly progressed to two, and sometimes three, rushing by others and often getting cursed because of it. He had taken his cousin's words to heart, and there was only one thing he now wished to confide in- his dragon, Tessarion. Others called her the Blue Queen, and stunning as she was, he couldn't blame them. Her lack in size was easily made up by her speed in the air, something that Daeron cherished everytime he rode her through the skies. She was often chained in a cordoned off area of the yard, though Daeron didn't like it. He eventually allowed it only to give others a peace of mind, but he knew that Tessarion would never hurt someone unless he allowed it, but trying to explain this to anyone else often proved to be fruitless. When he reached her, she was already awake and alert, waiting... as if she had known that he was coming. He embraced the dragon, but no tears flowed, he was past that. She nuzzled him, her scales warm at the touch.

Removing her chains, the prince and the dragon took to the skies.

The Dance of Dragons - (ASoI&F) (GoT) - [Openly Recruiting]

Boy these 15 year olds sure do look mature for their age. I guess bastards really do grow up faster.

EDIT: Oh darn apparently I have a page header post. Quick everyone go look at page 2 to get the joke!

@Sloth

If you can find me a better picture, I'll be happy to use it.

The Dance of Dragons - (ASoI&F) (GoT) - [Openly Recruiting]

Prince Daeron Targaryen

Daeron Targaryen

_{[ ⚔ ]House}

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Targaryen (Greens)

_{[ ⚔ ]Reputation}

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• Son to King Viserys Targaryen, and young brother to Aegon and Aemond
• Capable with a sword, though not as skilled as his brother Aemond
• Known to be one of the more talented dragon riders, though his skill hasn't been tested in war
• Popular among both highborn and smallfolk for his friendliness and generosity
• Also noted to be daring, clever, and handsome
• Fiercely loyal to his brothers
• Attracts many people to him, due to his amiable and charismatic personality
• Is honorable, humble, and sees value in keeping his word
• Currently a ward in Oldtown, serving as squire and cupbearer to Lord Ormund Hightower
• Would prefer a peaceful end, but is ready to fight if need be

_{[ ⚔ ]Appearance and Character}

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Like his brothers, Daeron has the coloring of the blood of the dragon, allowing none to question whether or not he's a true Targaryen. Not only his he the youngest of Viserys' sons, he's also the smallest, standing a full head shorter than his brother Aemond, however, Daeron still may find himself surpassing Aemond in height if he manages a growth spurt in the next few years. Despite being thin, Daeron is far from sickly, as he's both nimble and quick, much more so than either one of his brothers. As such, he's very physically active, partaking in footraces, sparring with swords, horse riding, and above all else, soaring through the skies on his dragon Tessarion, in which nothing else can compare. A handsome, courteous, and clever boy, Daeron is often considered the most popular of the three sons of King Viserys I Targaryen and Queen Alicent Hightower. Likewise, he could also be described as being the most gentle, honorable, and daring among his brothers, though he has constantly been relegated to growing up in their shadow, and thus has become much more accustomed to receiving orders than giving them.

Daeron has dark violet eyes, like the dragonlords of old, and they can often appear to be black in certain lighting. His eyes can give off an air of determination and steadfast resoluteness that could potentially translate into tangible actions, should the boy ever cast off the overbearing personalities of his brothers and come into his own. Still, Daeron can be both gregarious and charming, enough that he never found it particularly difficult to surround himself with friends or to gain capable allies. He's no schemer and finds it difficult to be even slightly devious, as he was never one who was ever able to tell very believable lies, and often found it far more easier to be honest instead, even if it happened to weigh heavy on the listener. His face has striking, sharp features that complement his shoulder-length silver-gold hair that he inherited from his father, lending himself to be quite popular with girls, though this doesn't stop him from being nervous around most of them. The only females that he's truly comfortable around is that of his mother, sister, and dragon, and if you were to ask Daeron which of those he likes the best, it would probably be Tessarion, without a second thought.

Even if his personality clashes with that of his brothers, there's no question that he'll remain loyal to the both of them. He values the concept of keeping his word and being honest, whereas he does possess many great ambitions, none of them are related to ever sitting the Iron Throne. For better and for worse, he has grown up with them, and they are the brothers that he knows, as opposed to the half-sister who openly despises his existence, even if it's mostly due to the ongoing actions of other people. He held no inherent hatred for his cousins other than the rivalry that was instigated by others in the very beginning. However, actions on both sides inevitably led him to place actual distance between himself and his cousins, but he would still be satisfied by a peaceful conclusion in the end, given that his place in the line of succession allows him other interests beyond those associated with the Iron Throne itself. Such concerns may seem trivial and out of place for the boy that he is, but with war coming, it will certainly become an inescapable reality.

_{[ ⚔ ]History}

---

Late in 114 AC, Daeron was born the youngest son and child of King Viserys I Targaryen and his second wife, Queen Alicent Hightower. He was born shortly after his half-sister Rhaenyra's eldest son, Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, prompting the king to give the two babes to the same wet nurse in an attempt to prevent a similar enmity between the two boys that existed with both of their mothers. The king's hope would ultimately be in vain, as Daeron grew up as a bitter rival to Rhaenyra's children just like his older siblings, though it was less to do with his own personal disdain for his cousins, since he truly lacked any, and more a desire to emulate his brothers and others around him. While Daeron and his older siblings were forced to spend time with their cousins (i.e. attending the same feasts, and occasionally training at arms or studying with a maester together), it only proved to intensify the rivalry between them. In 120 AC, when Daeron was nearly six years of age, his brother-in-law, Ser Laenor Velaryon, died. Daeron accompanied his parents and siblings to Driftmark to attend the funeral. An altercation occurred between Prince Aemond and his cousins when he attempted to secretly tame Vhagar, ending with Aemond losing an eye to Prince Lucerys. Although Daeron hadn't been involved in the fight, he still remained an impressionable child, and the news of his brother losing an eye to his cousins only steeled himself against them, becoming a distance that he would continue to maintain to the present.

By the age of six, and shortly after the debacle at Driftmark, Daeron was given a dragon by his father, though truth be told, it would be some time before he worked up the courage to ride her. It would be the first time where he was able to work his way out of his shell and form an identity outside of being the youngest son of the king, and soon enough, he took to the skies with Tessarion. Others soon noted how strong of a bond that the two soon shared, and when they flew through the skies, nearly no one could ever hope to touch them, showing all the innate skill that Daeron possessed when it came to riding his dragon. Still, the inexperience was clearly there, especially when it came to warfare, in which neither dragon nor rider had any. It's doubtful such thoughts go through a young boy's head, with Daeron not having a care in the world whenever he flies over the Red Keep or beyond the waters of Blackwater Bay, far into the Narrow Sea. Being a dragon rider has given a boy of his age far more mobility than anyone can possibility imagine; a fact that he has fully taken advantage of. He relishes the idea of going to new places and the opportunity that has been given to him to see the world, and has been all over Westeros as a result. However, his father limited Daeron's riding to only within Westeros itself, if only for his own safety. Daeron could never fathom how he could ever be in any danger with Tessarion at his side, but if nothing else he's always been a dutiful boy, and he obeyed his father's wishes.

Beyond riding Tessarion, Daeron has inherently always been an adventurous lad, never being one to sit still and ending the day being so filthy that he was often unrecognizable. He's explored most of the Red Keep, all of its rooms, and even the hidden escape tunnels placed there by Maegor the Cruel himself, though he still has been unable to find them all. He was never against dragging other noble-born lads that were often paired with him on these adventures, forming the bonds of friendship that he's so good at. His amiability has led him to being considered the most popular of his brothers, which isn't much, given who he shares his blood with. His generosity and kindness has made him a favorite among many, along with his tendency to look for the good in people, which may make him far too trusting. He's found himself surrounded by people who are drawn to him for these very traits, and he even finds himself to be quite popular with the smallfolk, largely due to his friendliness and charisma.

As King Viserys' health began to decline, Daeron's mother and the supporters of his elder brother Aegon began to prepare for the inevitability of his death and the actions that would need to be taken in the moments after. So it was decided, when Daeron came to be 12 years of age, that he would serve as a cupbearer and squire to Lord Ormund Hightower, his mother Alicent's cousin, in Oldtown. It was clearly machinations made by Daeron's mother and grandfather, to send Daeron away to the relative safety of the Reach, far from the capital and potential fallout that would likely ensure. Of course, the hidden meanings of such a move was wasted on a 12 year old, and Daeron was more excited to just go to Oldtown and the Hightower, in which he had only been a few times before. He's worked on many skills that are expected of a boy of his highbirth while in Oldtown, with his skill with a blade is more than capable after training for years with his brothers and the royal master-at-arms, but still remains a far cry from his brother Aemond or uncle Daemon. The same is true when it comes to being on a horse, though Daeron would be the first to tell you that he'd be much more comfortable riding Tessarion instead. Beyond his official duties as squire and cupbearer, he's managed to enjoy all the trappings that exist within Oldtown, becoming truly drunk for the first time in his thirteenth year. Daeron is in his element when he's in Oldtown, with new places to explore, so many different sights to see, and countless new friends.

With his father's death in 129 AC, such frivolities of his youth are about to come to an end, as the storm of war is about to sweep over all of Westeros. It goes without saying that Daeron is fiercely loyal to his brothers, and will defend Aegon's right to the throne to the very end, even if a small part of him knows that it was his father who had wanted Rhaenyra to succeed him instead. He would prefer a peaceful resolution to this crisis if at all possible, but even Daeron knows, as gullible as he often is, that the old wounds that are reopening will never allow that to happen. In either case, Daeron remains prepared to bring peace to Westeros, if he can find a way to do so with minimal bloodshed.

_{[ ⚔ ]Family Tree}

---

Family Tree

The Dance of Dragons - (ASoI&F) (GoT) - [Openly Recruiting]

@EricRP

Here, have a thing:

Prince Daeron Targaryen

Daeron Targaryen

_{[ ⚔ ]House}

---

Targaryen (Greens)

_{[ ⚔ ]Reputation}

---

• Son to King Viserys Targaryen, and young brother to Aegon and Aemond
• Capable with a sword, though not as skilled as his brother Aemond
• Known to be one of the more talented dragon riders, though his skill hasn't been tested in war
• Popular among both highborn and smallfolk for his friendliness and generosity
• Also noted to be daring, clever, and handsome
• Fiercely loyal to his brothers
• Attracts many people to him, due to his amiable and charismatic personality
• Is honorable, humble, and sees value in keeping his word
• Currently a ward in Oldtown, serving as squire and cupbearer to Lord Ormund Hightower
• Would prefer a peaceful end, but is ready to fight if need be

_{[ ⚔ ]Appearance and Character}

---

Like his brothers, Daeron has the coloring of the blood of the dragon, allowing none to question whether or not he's a true Targaryen. Not only his he the youngest of Viserys' sons, he's also the smallest, standing a full head shorter than his brother Aemond, however, Daeron still may find himself surpassing Aemond in height if he manages a growth spurt in the next few years. Despite being thin, Daeron is far from sickly, as he's both nimble and quick, much more so than either one of his brothers. As such, he's very physically active, partaking in footraces, sparring with swords, horse riding, and above all else, soaring through the skies on his dragon Tessarion, in which nothing else can compare. A handsome, courteous, and clever boy, Daeron is often considered the most popular of the three sons of King Viserys I Targaryen and Queen Alicent Hightower. Likewise, he could also be described as being the most gentle, honorable, and daring among his brothers, though he has constantly been relegated to growing up in their shadow, and thus has become much more accustomed to receiving orders than giving them.

Daeron has dark violet eyes, like the dragonlords of old, and they can often appear to be black in certain lighting. His eyes can give off an air of determination and steadfast resoluteness that could potentially translate into tangible actions, should the boy ever cast off the overbearing personalities of his brothers and come into his own. Still, Daeron can be both gregarious and charming, enough that he never found it particularly difficult to surround himself with friends or to gain capable allies. He's no schemer and finds it difficult to be even slightly devious, as he was never one who was ever able to tell very believable lies, and often found it far more easier to be honest instead, even if it happened to weigh heavy on the listener. His face has striking, sharp features that complement his shoulder-length silver-gold hair that he inherited from his father, lending himself to be quite popular with girls, though this doesn't stop him from being nervous around most of them. The only females that he's truly comfortable around is that of his mother, sister, and dragon, and if you were to ask Daeron which of those he likes the best, it would probably be Tessarion, without a second thought.

Even if his personality clashes with that of his brothers, there's no question that he'll remain loyal to the both of them. He values the concept of keeping his word and being honest, whereas he does possess many great ambitions, none of them are related to ever sitting the Iron Throne. For better and for worse, he has grown up with them, and they are the brothers that he knows, as opposed to the half-sister who openly despises his existence, even if it's mostly due to the ongoing actions of other people. He held no inherent hatred for his cousins other than the rivalry that was instigated by others in the very beginning. However, actions on both sides inevitably led him to place actual distance between himself and his cousins, but he would still be satisfied by a peaceful conclusion in the end, given that his place in the line of succession allows him other interests beyond those associated with the Iron Throne itself. Such concerns may seem trivial and out of place for the boy that he is, but with war coming, it will certainly become an inescapable reality.

_{[ ⚔ ]History}

---

Late in 114 AC, Daeron was born the youngest son and child of King Viserys I Targaryen and his second wife, Queen Alicent Hightower. He was born shortly after his half-sister Rhaenyra's eldest son, Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, prompting the king to give the two babes to the same wet nurse in an attempt to prevent a similar enmity between the two boys that existed with both of their mothers. The king's hope would ultimately be in vain, as Daeron grew up as a bitter rival to Rhaenyra's children just like his older siblings, though it was less to do with his own personal disdain for his cousins, since he truly lacked any, and more a desire to emulate his brothers and others around him. While Daeron and his older siblings were forced to spend time with their cousins (i.e. attending the same feasts, and occasionally training at arms or studying with a maester together), it only proved to intensify the rivalry between them. In 120 AC, when Daeron was nearly six years of age, his brother-in-law, Ser Laenor Velaryon, died. Daeron accompanied his parents and siblings to Driftmark to attend the funeral. An altercation occurred between Prince Aemond and his cousins when he attempted to secretly tame Vhagar, ending with Aemond losing an eye to Prince Lucerys. Although Daeron hadn't been involved in the fight, he still remained an impressionable child, and the news of his brother losing an eye to his cousins only steeled himself against them, becoming a distance that he would continue to maintain to the present.

By the age of six, and shortly after the debacle at Driftmark, Daeron was given a dragon by his father, though truth be told, it would be some time before he worked up the courage to ride her. It would be the first time where he was able to work his way out of his shell and form an identity outside of being the youngest son of the king, and soon enough, he took to the skies with Tessarion. Others soon noted how strong of a bond that the two soon shared, and when they flew through the skies, nearly no one could ever hope to touch them, showing all the innate skill that Daeron possessed when it came to riding his dragon. Still, the inexperience was clearly there, especially when it came to warfare, in which neither dragon nor rider had any. It's doubtful such thoughts go through a young boy's head, with Daeron not having a care in the world whenever he flies over the Red Keep or beyond the waters of Blackwater Bay, far into the Narrow Sea. Being a dragon rider has given a boy of his age far more mobility than anyone can possibility imagine; a fact that he has fully taken advantage of. He relishes the idea of going to new places and the opportunity that has been given to him to see the world, and has been all over Westeros as a result. However, his father limited Daeron's riding to only within Westeros itself, if only for his own safety. Daeron could never fathom how he could ever be in any danger with Tessarion at his side, but if nothing else he's always been a dutiful boy, and he obeyed his father's wishes.

Beyond riding Tessarion, Daeron has inherently always been an adventurous lad, never being one to sit still and ending the day being so filthy that he was often unrecognizable. He's explored most of the Red Keep, all of its rooms, and even the hidden escape tunnels placed there by Maegor the Cruel himself, though he still has been unable to find them all. He was never against dragging other noble-born lads that were often paired with him on these adventures, forming the bonds of friendship that he's so good at. His amiability has led him to being considered the most popular of his brothers, which isn't much, given who he shares his blood with. His generosity and kindness has made him a favorite among many, along with his tendency to look for the good in people, which may make him far too trusting. He's found himself surrounded by people who are drawn to him for these very traits, and he even finds himself to be quite popular with the smallfolk, largely due to his friendliness and charisma.

As King Viserys' health began to decline, Daeron's mother and the supporters of his elder brother Aegon began to prepare for the inevitability of his death and the actions that would need to be taken in the moments after. So it was decided, when Daeron came to be 12 years of age, that he would serve as a cupbearer and squire to Lord Ormund Hightower, his mother Alicent's cousin, in Oldtown. It was clearly machinations made by Daeron's mother and grandfather, to send Daeron away to the relative safety of the Reach, far from the capital and potential fallout that would likely ensure. Of course, the hidden meanings of such a move was wasted on a 12 year old, and Daeron was more excited to just go to Oldtown and the Hightower, in which he had only been a few times before. He's worked on many skills that are expected of a boy of his highbirth while in Oldtown, with his skill with a blade is more than capable after training for years with his brothers and the royal master-at-arms, but still remains a far cry from his brother Aemond or uncle Daemon. The same is true when it comes to being on a horse, though Daeron would be the first to tell you that he'd be much more comfortable riding Tessarion instead. Beyond his official duties as squire and cupbearer, he's managed to enjoy all the trappings that exist within Oldtown, becoming truly drunk for the first time in his thirteenth year. Daeron is in his element when he's in Oldtown, with new places to explore, so many different sights to see, and countless new friends.

With his father's death in 129 AC, such frivolities of his youth are about to come to an end, as the storm of war is about to sweep over all of Westeros. It goes without saying that Daeron is fiercely loyal to his brothers, and will defend Aegon's right to the throne to the very end, even if a small part of him knows that it was his father who had wanted Rhaenyra to succeed him instead. He would prefer a peaceful resolution to this crisis if at all possible, but even Daeron knows, as gullible as he often is, that the old wounds that are reopening will never allow that to happen. In either case, Daeron remains prepared to bring peace to Westeros, if he can find a way to do so with minimal bloodshed.

_{[ ⚔ ]Family Tree}

---

Family Tree

ethanjory - Character Repository

Prince Daeron Targaryen

Daeron Targaryen

_{[ ⚔ ]House}

---

Targaryen (Greens)

_{[ ⚔ ]Reputation}

---

• Son to King Viserys Targaryen, and young brother to Aegon and Aemond
• Capable with a sword, though not as skilled as his brother Aemond
• Known to be one of the more talented dragon riders, though his skill hasn't been tested in war
• Popular among both highborn and smallfolk for his friendliness and generosity
• Also noted to be daring, clever, and handsome
• Fiercely loyal to his brothers
• Attracts many people to him, due to his amiable and charismatic personality
• Is honorable, humble, and sees value in keeping his word
• Currently a ward in Oldtown, serving as squire and cupbearer to Lord Ormund Hightower
• Would prefer a peaceful end, but is ready to fight if need be

_{[ ⚔ ]Appearance and Character}

---

Like his brothers, Daeron has the coloring of the blood of the dragon, allowing none to question whether or not he's a true Targaryen. Not only his he the youngest of Viserys' sons, he's also the smallest, standing a full head shorter than his brother Aemond, however, Daeron still may find himself surpassing Aemond in height if he manages a growth spurt in the next few years. Despite being thin, Daeron is far from sickly, as he's both nimble and quick, much more so than either one of his brothers. As such, he's very physically active, partaking in footraces, sparring with swords, horse riding, and above all else, soaring through the skies on his dragon Tessarion, in which nothing else can compare. A handsome, courteous, and clever boy, Daeron is often considered the most popular of the three sons of King Viserys I Targaryen and Queen Alicent Hightower. Likewise, he could also be described as being the most gentle, honorable, and daring among his brothers, though he has constantly been relegated to growing up in their shadow, and thus has become much more accustomed to receiving orders than giving them.

Daeron has dark violet eyes, like the dragonlords of old, and they can often appear to be black in certain lighting. His eyes can give off an air of determination and steadfast resoluteness that could potentially translate into tangible actions, should the boy ever cast off the overbearing personalities of his brothers and come into his own. Still, Daeron can be both gregarious and charming, enough that he never found it particularly difficult to surround himself with friends or to gain capable allies. He's no schemer and finds it difficult to be even slightly devious, as he was never one who was ever able to tell very believable lies, and often found it far more easier to be honest instead, even if it happened to weigh heavy on the listener. His face has striking, sharp features that complement his shoulder-length silver-gold hair that he inherited from his father, lending himself to be quite popular with girls, though this doesn't stop him from being nervous around most of them. The only females that he's truly comfortable around is that of his mother, sister, and dragon, and if you were to ask Daeron which of those he likes the best, it would probably be Tessarion, without a second thought.

Even if his personality clashes with that of his brothers, there's no question that he'll remain loyal to the both of them. He values the concept of keeping his word and being honest, whereas he does possess many great ambitions, none of them are related to ever sitting the Iron Throne. For better and for worse, he has grown up with them, and they are the brothers that he knows, as opposed to the half-sister who openly despises his existence, even if it's mostly due to the ongoing actions of other people. He held no inherent hatred for his cousins other than the rivalry that was instigated by others in the very beginning. However, actions on both sides inevitably led him to place actual distance between himself and his cousins, but he would still be satisfied by a peaceful conclusion in the end, given that his place in the line of succession allows him other interests beyond those associated with the Iron Throne itself. Such concerns may seem trivial and out of place for the boy that he is, but with war coming, it will certainly become an inescapable reality.

_{[ ⚔ ]History}

---

Late in 114 AC, Daeron was born the youngest son and child of King Viserys I Targaryen and his second wife, Queen Alicent Hightower. He was born shortly after his half-sister Rhaenyra's eldest son, Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, prompting the king to give the two babes to the same wet nurse in an attempt to prevent a similar enmity between the two boys that existed with both of their mothers. The king's hope would ultimately be in vain, as Daeron grew up as a bitter rival to Rhaenyra's children just like his older siblings, though it was less to do with his own personal disdain for his cousins, since he truly lacked any, and more a desire to emulate his brothers and others around him. While Daeron and his older siblings were forced to spend time with their cousins (i.e. attending the same feasts, and occasionally training at arms or studying with a maester together), it only proved to intensify the rivalry between them. In 120 AC, when Daeron was nearly six years of age, his brother-in-law, Ser Laenor Velaryon, died. Daeron accompanied his parents and siblings to Driftmark to attend the funeral. An altercation occurred between Prince Aemond and his cousins when he attempted to secretly tame Vhagar, ending with Aemond losing an eye to Prince Lucerys. Although Daeron hadn't been involved in the fight, he still remained an impressionable child, and the news of his brother losing an eye to his cousins only steeled himself against them, becoming a distance that he would continue to maintain to the present.

By the age of six, and shortly after the debacle at Driftmark, Daeron was given a dragon by his father, though truth be told, it would be some time before he worked up the courage to ride her. It would be the first time where he was able to work his way out of his shell and form an identity outside of being the youngest son of the king, and soon enough, he took to the skies with Tessarion. Others soon noted how strong of a bond that the two soon shared, and when they flew through the skies, nearly no one could ever hope to touch them, showing all the innate skill that Daeron possessed when it came to riding his dragon. Still, the inexperience was clearly there, especially when it came to warfare, in which neither dragon nor rider had any. It's doubtful such thoughts go through a young boy's head, with Daeron not having a care in the world whenever he flies over the Red Keep or beyond the waters of Blackwater Bay, far into the Narrow Sea. Being a dragon rider has given a boy of his age far more mobility than anyone can possibility imagine; a fact that he has fully taken advantage of. He relishes the idea of going to new places and the opportunity that has been given to him to see the world, and has been all over Westeros as a result. However, his father limited Daeron's riding to only within Westeros itself, if only for his own safety. Daeron could never fathom how he could ever be in any danger with Tessarion at his side, but if nothing else he's always been a dutiful boy, and he obeyed his father's wishes.

Beyond riding Tessarion, Daeron has inherently always been an adventurous lad, never being one to sit still and ending the day being so filthy that he was often unrecognizable. He's explored most of the Red Keep, all of its rooms, and even the hidden escape tunnels placed there by Maegor the Cruel himself, though he still has been unable to find them all. He was never against dragging other noble-born lads that were often paired with him on these adventures, forming the bonds of friendship that he's so good at. His amiability has led him to being considered the most popular of his brothers, which isn't much, given who he shares his blood with. His generosity and kindness has made him a favorite among many, along with his tendency to look for the good in people, which may make him far too trusting. He's found himself surrounded by people who are drawn to him for these very traits, and he even finds himself to be quite popular with the smallfolk, largely due to his friendliness and charisma.

As King Viserys' health began to decline, Daeron's mother and the supporters of his elder brother Aegon began to prepare for the inevitability of his death and the actions that would need to be taken in the moments after. So it was decided, when Daeron came to be 12 years of age, that he would serve as a cupbearer and squire to Lord Ormund Hightower, his mother Alicent's cousin, in Oldtown. It was clearly machinations made by Daeron's mother and grandfather, to send Daeron away to the relative safety of the Reach, far from the capital and potential fallout that would likely ensure. Of course, the hidden meanings of such a move was wasted on a 12 year old, and Daeron was more excited to just go to Oldtown and the Hightower, in which he had only been a few times before. He's worked on many skills that are expected of a boy of his highbirth while in Oldtown, with his skill with a blade is more than capable after training for years with his brothers and the royal master-at-arms, but still remains a far cry from his brother Aemond or uncle Daemon. The same is true when it comes to being on a horse, though Daeron would be the first to tell you that he'd be much more comfortable riding Tessarion instead. Beyond his official duties as squire and cupbearer, he's managed to enjoy all the trappings that exist within Oldtown, becoming truly drunk for the first time in his thirteenth year. Daeron is in his element when he's in Oldtown, with new places to explore, so many different sights to see, and countless new friends.

With his father's death in 129 AC, such frivolities of his youth are about to come to an end, as the storm of war is about to sweep over all of Westeros. It goes without saying that Daeron is fiercely loyal to his brothers, and will defend Aegon's right to the throne to the very end, even if a small part of him knows that it was his father who had wanted Rhaenyra to succeed him instead. He would prefer a peaceful resolution to this crisis if at all possible, but even Daeron knows, as gullible as he often is, that the old wounds that are reopening will never allow that to happen. In either case, Daeron remains prepared to bring peace to Westeros, if he can find a way to do so with minimal bloodshed.

_{[ ⚔ ]Family Tree}

---

Family Tree

The Dance of Dragons - (ASoI&F) (GoT) - Interest Check/Placeholder

More specifically, I'm looking to play as Prince Daeron. It's been awhile since I've played a character who's a decent human being.