Two years had passed since Daron Snow arrived in King's Landing as a mere cupbearer to the king* But no one saw him as just a Northern boy with icy manners anymore*
Now they watched him like a flame that refused to be extinguished*
He had grown* In height, in presence… and in power* He was sixteen, almost seventeen, and his presence was beginning to unsettle men much older than him*
Not because he spoke too much* But because he knew when not to speak*
The war in the Stepstones was the topic of the moment* Every royal council was stained with the smoke of that distant battle* Letters arrived bearing the seal of House Velaryon, reports from Daemon Targaryen, tales of raids, and burned ships*
The sea roared, and Daron felt it in his blood*
"That's where I belong," he thought one afternoon, while listening to Viserys complain that his brother was overstepping*
"Out there* Not here, serving wine and smiling like a statue*"
But it was not the time*
Not yet*
That morning, he crossed paths with Otto Hightower in the halls of the Red Keep* The Grand Maester had just left, leaving them alone*
"Do you enjoy the smell of blood, young Snow?" Otto asked, without preamble*
Daron stopped* His cold gaze met that of the Hand of the King*
"It depends on who spills it*"
Otto barely smiled*
"You have the makings of a warrior*"
"And of other things*"
"Ambition can be a dangerous weapon in a place like this*"
"Only for those who don't know how to wield it*"
For a moment, Otto studied him in silence*
"Do you know what bothers me about you, boy?"
"I'm sure I could guess, but I'd rather you tell me*"
"You know how to play* And young players are the most unpredictable*"
Daron smiled* A mischievous glint danced in his eyes*
"Then watch me, my lord* Closely*"
In the gardens, he found Rhaenyra reading* Her ladies-in-waiting were nearby, but when she saw him, she rose and approached without fear*
"They say your sword has improved," she said, turning her back as they walked*
"My sword was always good* I just don't bother hiding it anymore*"
"And your ego?"
"It's comfortable*"
She laughed* She stopped beside the fountain*
"Have you ever killed a man, Daron?"
"Not in this castle*"
She turned slowly, as if something in his words had unsettled her*
"Sometimes I think there's a sleeping dragon in you*"
"And other times, you think it's not sleeping*"
The tension between them grew* They were not children* They were not innocent* Rhaenyra looked at his lips, just for a second* He watched her with that same fire she knew from her own blood*
They were too close*
And then a servant coughed, and the distance was restored*
But the spark had already been lit*
Later, in the library, he found Alicent Hightower*
She was alone, flipping through a history book about Targaryen kings* When she saw him, she blushed*
"I didn't expect to see you here," she murmured*
"I did," he replied calmly*
"Why?"
"Because every time I'm near, you seem to breathe slower*"
Alicent lowered her gaze, nervous but intrigued*
"You shouldn't say things like that…"
"And why not?"
"Because I am a lady* And you… you are not like the others*"
He leaned in slightly* Just enough* Without touching her, without forcing* Just letting his voice brush her ear like a whisper*
"You're right* I'm not*"
She looked at him* Her eyes innocent, confused, wanting to understand and resist at the same time* There was something magnetic about him that she couldn't ignore*
And then he left, leaving her with burning cheeks and an unsettled heart*
One night, as he walked alone through the training yard, he came across King Viserys* Surprised, the king allowed Daron to accompany him in silence*
"You are a strange young man, Snow," he said suddenly*
"Why do you say that, Your Majesty?"
"You don't seek praise, you don't ask foolish questions, and you don't drink like other boys*"
"Perhaps I don't want to be like other boys*"
"And what do you want to be like?"
"A man who has not been forgotten by the gods*"
Viserys observed him, intrigued*
"Do you feel forgotten?"
"No* I feel remembered* But I have not yet been called*"
The king blinked, confused* He didn't fully understand… but something about those words unsettled him*
That night, the dream returned*
The black fire surrounded him* The sky split in two* A mountain crumbled under the weight of giant wings* The roar was deeper than death* Higher than the heavens*
And the green eyes watched him*
Not with hatred* With destiny*
"Do you fear me?" roared a voice that was not a voice*
Daron fell to his knees* Not out of fear* Out of recognition*
"No*" he thought* "I'm just waiting for the moment*"
The black dragon enveloped him in its shadow, and when he opened his eyes…
…the dawn was already burning over King's Landing*
And with it, a new flame in the chest of Daron Snow*