Daemon exhaled slowly through his nose, his grip tightening slightly where his fingers curled against the wood of the table.
His eldest son was already halfway out the door, spine stiff, shoulders squared like a boy trying to carry the weight of a man. His youngest was still tucked against him, his small frame shaking, his anger and shame warring with the raw emotion he couldn’t yet swallow down.
This was the part his brother had always avoided. The part that left cuts deeper than any blade.
“Jacaerys.” His voice was low, steady. It allowed no argument. “Come here.”
Jace hesitated. Daemon saw it in the shift of his weight, in the way his fingers twitched at his sides, but he turned back nonetheless. He didn’t meet his father’s eyes, didn’t look at his brother either.
Daemon kept his arm around Viserys, but reached out with his free hand, catching Jace by the wrist before the boy could think to resist. He tugged him forward gently, guiding him down onto his lap.
The way he had when Jace was younger, when he would curl into his chest without hesitation, when he still saw his father as someone to run to instead of someone to defy. The boy was stiff now, rigid beneath his hands, but Daemon didn’t let him pull away.
“Stop,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “You’re not leaving. You’re going to sit here. With me. With your brother.”
Jace didn’t fight again. He slumped, his face turned away, though his whole body vibrated with barely contained frustration. Daemon let out a slow breath, his hand resting on Jace’s back, the other still holding Viserys close. He felt them both; one trembling from anger and shame, the other from hurt and betrayal. Two boys who loved each other more than they could ever say, even if neither of them could feel it right now.
“I know,” Daemon started, his voice low, steady, even. “I know this isn’t fair. I know it feels like the world’s asking too much of you, Jace. You’re the eldest, the heir, and everyone expects you to be stronger, smarter, better, even when you’re barely old enough to know who you are. I know how that feels.”
I have seen this happening.
His voice didn’t waver, but his throat felt tight, his mind flicking back to a different solar, a different father, a different childhood where love and duty had never sat in the same room together.
“But you’re not just an heir, Jace. You’re a brother. His brother.” He glanced at Viserys, whose face was still buried against his shoulder. “Viserys is not ready to learn the lessons you think he needs to. And that is not a failure. It is simply what it means to be young.”
Daemon shifted, tilting his head just enough to meet Jace’s eyes, even when his son tried to avoid it. Stubborn as a dragon.
“And you, Viserys.” Daemon said, quieter still, his voice steady but not unkind. “Your brother isn’t the enemy. He’s not trying to hurt you because he enjoys it. He’s angry because he’s scared. Because he doesn’t know how to carry everything on his shoulders, and no one’s ever taught him how to put it down.”
Jace was still tense, his jaw clenched, but Daemon knew his son well enough to see the way his breathing changed. He knew that some part of him was listening, whether he wanted to or not.
“You both think you’re alone in this,” Daemon said, his voice low but steady. “You’re not. Not while I’m here. Not while you have each other.”
Daemon never had a father who would say that. He had never had a brother who could. But he was determined not to let his sons fall into the same trap.
He would be a better father.
He could be the man Rhaenyra deserved by her side, the one she could be proud of.
“Not while I still draw breath. I won’t let you be alone.”
Neither of the boys spoke. He didn’t let them. He just held them there and prayed to gods he didn’t believe in that it would be enough.
