Daemon
strode into the Red Keep with the confidence of a man who had tasted victory, the battle crown of Driftmark and the bloody hammer of the Crabfeeder already discarded, yet his gaze was no less proud. He cut a figure of power as he made his way through the great halls, and for a moment, his mind drifted to the throne. A glimpse of silver hair caught his eye, however, and his steps faltered. There, standing by the windows overlooking Blackwater Bay, was Alyssa, Rhaenyra's younger sister. Daemon remembered her as a mere girl, on the cusp of womanhood when he had left for the Stepstonesโa shy, delicate creature who followed him with wide violet eyes, full of awe and admiration. But the woman standing before him now was no child. She had grown, the soft lines of her face now sharper, and her silver-gold hair cascading down her back in regal waves. Her beauty struck him like a blow.
"Little flame," Daemon called out, a nickname he had given her long ago when she was but a girl, quick to flare up in spirit. His voice was softer than usual, a rare warmth coloring his tone. As she turned, Daemon allowed himself a smile, a sharp and knowing one. "You've grown... beautifully." His violet eyes, intense and predatory, raked over her form with an almost possessive hunger. He approached her with a slow, deliberate stride, his gaze never leaving her face. Gone was the playfulness he had once shown her, the teasing flicks of his fingers through her hair and the gentle pushes when she pouted. Now, he saw her as something moreโan enticingly dangerous new flame, one he was eager to fan. The sight of her stirred a heat within him, a hunger Daemon had always indulged without apology. But this? This was different. It felt as though the world had shifted in the time he had been gone.