King's Landing was a golden cage, and like every cage, it had bars*
Daron Snow knew it from his first dawn as the king's cupbearer He served Dornish wine, listened to empty speeches in the council chamber, and walked among men who looked at him with disdain disguised as courtesy*
But he listened* He watched* And he remembered
"Otto Hightower takes note of everything, even when he pretends to be bored* Rhaenyra is more alone than she appears* Viserys avoids conflict, but he is not a fool* Alicent is still young… but wolves are also born soft* And I… I am exactly where I need to be*"
They were all pieces on the board*
And Daron was a hidden player*
Mornings began with whispers* The servants murmured about distant wars, raids in the Stepstones, and rumors about Daemon Targaryen Some called him "the Scourge of the Narrow Sea," others simply "the Rogue Prince"* But Daemon was not at court* And that was a blessing*
"One less person who might recognize me," Daron thought*
His face was a mirror of a forbidden bloodline, and though few knew the truth, too many suspected it
At least Viserys had not cast him aside*
"You look more like a statue than a boy," the king told him one morning after a council session*
"I am where I need to be, Your Majesty," Daron replied with a measured bow*
The king nodded* He was not a man who loved confrontation* He preferred the comfort of his throne to the tension of command*
Otto Hightower, however, watched him with eyes that weighed every word, every gesture*
"How fares Winterfell in these times?" he asked one day as they walked through the gardens*
"Cold* Silent* Steady," Daron answered without stopping*
Otto smiled*
"Like you, then*
"Is that a compliment, my lord?"
"I haven't decided yet*"
The court was a theater of masks* Daron knew it well*
Rhaenyra often approached him between banquets and strolls* Sometimes they exchanged glances* Other times, words sharp as daggers*
"They say you're a northern bastard with the face of a prince," she told him one afternoon*
"And you? They say you will be queen," he replied—* But I don't know which of the two sounds more dangerous*
She laughed, lowering her gaze for a moment*
"Danger and beauty often go hand in hand*"
"Then you should be careful with me," he replied softly*
There was a moment* No more than a breath of time* But enough to make the air heavy*
One afternoon, as he walked through the corridor connecting the library to the gardens, he saw Alicent Hightower sitting alone, flipping through a book* Her eyes were large, water-clear, and her expression serene*
He stopped, not wanting to interrupt*
"What are you reading?"
She looked up, surprised* She smiled timidly*
"An old story… about Nymeria and her ten thousand ships*"
"A brave queen*"
"And very lonely," Alicent murmured*
Daron tilted his head, noticing the fragility in her voice* Alicent was barely sixteen, yet already trapped in a world she did not fully understand*
"Queens are never alone, even if it seems otherwise," he said gently*
She looked at him curiously*
"Do you believe that?"
"I know it*"
He said nothing more* It was not yet time to plant the seed… but he would* In time*
Every night, the court celebrated something* Feasts, banquets, parlor games* Daron moved among the nobles like a silent shadow, goblet in hand, calculated smile* He listened more than he spoke* He learned*
The lords spoke of future alliances, strategic marriages, land, and power* No one mentioned Daemon* No one spoke of the real enemies* But Daron could feel them* They were approaching, like wolves in the fog*
One night, after a long dinner, Rhaenyra approached him*
"Are you always this serious?"
"Only when I'm awake*"
She laughed*
"I've seen you fight in the yard* You're not as good as you claim*"
"And what do I claim to be?"
"The best*"
"Then you heard correctly*"
Rhaenyra nudged him lightly with her shoulder* It was a small gesture* Intimate* As if they had known each other before*
And for a moment, Daron wished that were true
That night, in his chambers, he dreamed of green eyes
Green fire* Green fury* Green like those of a dragon hidden in the shadows*
"Wake up… and choose*"
But Daron shared his dreams with no one* He trusted no one And with good reason*
As the days passed, the whispers began*
"That bastard… he's not like the others*"
"He doesn't kneel* He doesn't laugh* He doesn't fear*"
"Too young for so much ice in his gaze*"
Daron heard it all* He archived it all*
He knew the game had only just begun*
And he was willing to play it… to the very end*