[Chapter Size: 2500 Words.]
Third Person POV.
Winterfell.
...
...
"Keep your shield up, boy!" Daemon roared as he continued to strike the round metal shield with force.
The one holding it — a boy — tried to stand firm against Daemon's attack, who was certainly restraining himself from using the full strength a dragonborn possessed, the same strength that had once sent a member of the mountain clan flying backward with just a single blow, such was his monstrous power.
Daemon held back and tried to match the strength of an adult soldier, and even so, the boy did his best, stepping back with every strike.
"Remember, on the battlefield, situations like this will be quite common. And if you want to survive, you'll have to find a way out of it!" Daemon said in a firm tone, continuing to hit the boy's shield, forcing him to retreat further and further.
The young man was starting to grow nervous, groaning with each impact. Out of the corner of his eye, he looked toward the courtyard — everyone was watching them. The castle railings were crowded with nobles, mostly ladies from the North. He knew his mother was among them, watching with a worried look. There was also the future queen of the Seven Kingdoms, along with other noble ladies. Though the queen's eyes and many of the nobles' were all fixed on Daemon, not on a boy making a fool of himself.
"Stop paying attention to your surroundings!" Daemon roared, striking harder and startling the boy, who almost lost his balance and fell to the ground.
"Stop worrying about what people think of you, Lord Cerwyn! Focus only on yourself — survival is what matters most here! If you keep worrying about what others will think, you'll be lost when you have to make decisions as the lord of your house, do you understand me?" Daemon said, resuming his blows against the boy's shield.
"I understand..." he murmured, raising the shield again above his head to protect himself from Daemon's strikes, groaning in pain as his arm grew increasingly numb.
"You have to find a solution, try to escape those strikes! If you want to survive, you'll have to learn!" Daemon said, stopping his attacks. The boy, panting, looked at him with a mix of exhaustion and caution.
"That's enough for today," Daemon said, planting the tip of the blunt iron sword — used only for the boy's defense training — into the ground.
"Forgive me if I disappointed you, Your Majesty," said the boy, lowering his head shyly, embarrassed.
"There's nothing to be ashamed of, Lord Cerwyn. You're still young. What more could be expected when an adult is attacking you? I was harsh, I know, but that's how you learn," Daemon said, as the boy looked at him and nodded at the end.
"I promise that by the end of the war, I'll become a man worthy of you, my king," he said.
Daemon watched him for a moment before shaking his head. "You know, I was speaking with your mother... I believe your place is not in the war of the South," he said.
"What do you mean, Your Majesty?" asked the boy, stunned. "What do you mean by that? My place doesn't belong in the war? I... I'm not going with you?" He looked disappointed.
"Forgive me, Lord Cerwyn, but you are the last of your lineage. Your mother doesn't carry the same blood in her veins as your father. You are the last of your house. I believe you'll be better off in the North — guarding it for me — rather than risking your life in the South," said Daemon.
Although he had taken the boy into battle during the fights against the ironborn, the South was different — far more dangerous. Keeping the boy alive and away from harm was worth more than chasing glory to preserve his house's bloodline.
The boy tried to argue, but Daemon interrupted him: "Send a trusted man with your soldiers to join us. That will be enough. If you die, your house dies with you. Not even your father would accept that — you know it. I won't treat you as a coward, and I won't let anyone judge you for it. You will receive everything you deserve for your help in the conquest of the North. If you wish, we can discuss this further after dinner, in the solar."
The boy seemed torn, and Daemon continued.
"Either way, go rest a bit. We'll continue training tomorrow," said Daemon, and the boy left the training yard.
"Hey, Majesty, how about a little spar?" came the booming voice of the large man from the Mountain clan as he approached with a wide grin.
"Again, Hrogar? Aren't you tired of losing to Bak?" Daemon said in a friendly tone.
"Not this time! You, Your Majesty, will have your ass kicked by the mighty Hrogar!" roared the man named Hrogar, leader of the Norreys, as several men laughed.
"You fought Bak and lost. What makes you think you can fight me?" Daemon mocked. The man burst into hearty laughter.
"I admit those beyond the Wall are strong, but I can show that the men here are powerful too!" he bellowed once again, and many in the courtyard — those not of the free folk — began to cheer.
"Good, then show me what you've got," said Daemon, readying himself for the duel with the same blunt iron sword; the other wielded a hammer and shield.
The battle was short. The man fell to the ground within seconds, rolling as people laughed. Daemon had taken the fight more seriously, and when Hrogar got up after his quick defeat, instead of feeling embarrassed, he began to laugh loudly.
"Damned dragon... is there any man who can stop him?" he said in his usual booming voice. A knowing silence followed in the courtyard, as if everyone agreed with a subtle nod.
"A man, I don't know. But I'm certain there's a woman before me," Daemon replied to Hrogar, ignoring the murmurs that began to rise and looking toward the blonde woman approaching with a shield and her Valyrian steel sword.
The courtyard fell silent.
"Would you fight me, Daemon?" asked the wild blonde, her tone calm.
"Of course, let's see what my spear-wife has learned since I kicked your ass yesterday," Jon teased, while a few people laughed. But Val only growled fiercely.
"Has anyone ever told you that you look beautiful like that? I hope not, because I'd have to tear their tongue out," Daemon said again, spreading his arms while still holding his sword, drawing more laughter from the men. His flirtation was also a threat to anyone who dared approach his wives — though no one would, the joke served as a reminder.
"With Valyrian steel swords?" Val asked as she readied herself for the spar, and Daemon smiled as well.
"Of course." He said, as the training sword vanished and, in its place, the legendary Dark Sister appeared.
When they were ready to fight, both lunged at each other, their swords clashing at high speed. The duel between Daemon and Val was fierce. She swung Red Rain while Daemon countered with Dark Sister. The sound of Valyrian steel rang through the courtyard like metallic roars, and the onlookers watched in awe at the duel between the two legendary blades.
In the end, Daemon managed to disarm Val quickly without hurting her. She even tried to fight with her shield, but Daemon easily knocked her down. Clicking her tongue, she got up, walked to her blade, and picked up her sword again.
"Seems I lost," she said.
"But it doesn't have to end here. Let's grab the training swords and work on your stance once more," Daemon suggested, but she shook her head.
"I think there's someone else who wants to train with you," she said, looking over his shoulder. Daemon turned his head and saw Robb Stark approaching with a training sword.
The courtyard fell silent again. Everyone watched as Robb came closer until he stopped in front of Daemon.
"May we practice a bit?" Robb asked.
They had met in the godswood the day before, when Daemon introduced his mother to Daenerys for the first time and then left them to talk. Daenerys had been cautious at first — and Daemon could understand. Speaking with someone who was supposed to have been dead for so many years would be unsettling for anyone.
But in the end, Lyanna and Daenerys understood each other. Daemon's mother had spoken at length about that year she lived with Rhaegar, Daenerys's brother, recalling that time filled with pain, anger, and love.
Lyanna had also made demands: she wanted Daenerys to be loyal, to make him happy, and to give her many grandchildren — something Daemon found an oddly motherly concern coming from a ghost, even if it was his own mother.
In the end, Lyanna gave her blessing to Daenerys as her daughter-in-law and, of course, demanded that he introduce the other women as well. Daemon would have to make that introduction — of Val, Ygritte, and Lucis — to his mother, who had looked at him with that judging yet maternal gaze.
Either way, Daemon wasn't surprised to find Daenerys later in the godswood, speaking with the spirit of Lyanna. They had plenty to talk about regarding Winterfell, since Daenerys had been learning about the North, the castle, and Daemon's past through Benjen, Rickon, and Brandon Stark, with whom she had grown closer over the past moons.
At that moment, after Robb entered the courtyard and the place fell silent, with only a few whispers around them, Daemon didn't mind.
"Of course, with the blunt sword, I presume?" asked Daemon.
"Ever since I held a real sword, I can't get used to a wooden one anymore. I prefer a blunt one — I don't want something as dangerous as sparring with sharpened blades," Robb replied with a sad smile. Daemon nodded, pulling out Dark Sister and materializing another blade similar to the one he had used to train the previous opponents.
"An interesting trick." It was envy mixed with admiration in Robb's tone, his eyes gleaming as he watched Daemon summon the swords from nothing, as if they emerged from invisible air. Of all the magic he had heard Daemon could wield, that was certainly among the most impressive.
"Saves on scabbards and space," Daemon commented casually.
"I see... So you still keep..." Robb murmured but didn't finish the sentence.
"Your house's sword?" Daemon guessed.
Robb simply nodded in silence. "Yes... Ice is here, in this place," Daemon said, but added nothing more, while Robb stared at him for a few more seconds quietly.
"But that's not something you need to worry about now, is it?" Daemon replied in an indifferent tone, lacking empathy. Robb only lowered his gaze, shrugging slightly.
"Let's fight then, Lord Stark," Daemon said at last, twirling his blunt sword before stepping aside, waiting for Robb to ready himself.
Robb usually didn't come to the training yard during the day — he always appeared at night, when the place was empty, training alone with the wooden dummies. Daemon knew that. The guards had reported it, but he chose to leave him be.
Now, however, it was different. It was the first time Robb appeared there before everyone, and Daemon was curious to see how much determination still remained in the wolf of the North.
When both took their fighting stances, Daemon noticed Robb hesitated to attack. So he advanced first, and the sound of steel echoed as the wolf defended himself firmly. But Daemon could sense a bit of fear in him.
Daemon pressed him harder, moving his sword with superhuman speed. Robb stepped back once, then again, gritting his teeth as he felt the powerful impact of the dragon's strikes.
Without saying a word, Robb recovered, returning to his guard. Daemon smiled, satisfied, and launched another flurry of attacks. Everyone in the courtyard watched, astonished.
The fight was uneven. Robb retreated with every strike, forced backward. It wasn't that he was weak — on the contrary, he was better than any opponent Daemon had faced that day. But the difference between them was monstrous, because Daemon was no longer holding back as much.
"Come on, wolf!" Daemon taunted, his voice echoing through the courtyard. "Is that what you do when you're under pressure? Retreat? Attack me!"
Robb clenched his teeth, his gaze burning with fury.
"Why is Daemon sometimes so cruel to his cousin?" Daenerys asked, watching the clash in the courtyard from the balcony. She couldn't help but feel uneasy hearing Daemon speak those words aloud for everyone to hear. She found it strange how he treated Robb — even Lyanna seemed worried by the scene, for Robb wasn't to blame for his condition as a child.
"He's doing it to see if the wolf will roar again," said a voice behind her.
Daenerys turned and saw a commanding woman approaching. Beside her was a young woman, whom Daenerys knew to be Maege. The woman was Lady Maege Mormont.
"Lady Mormont," Daenerys said, nodding respectfully to her, though keeping the posture of someone superior, as the future queen.
"Hello, child. We haven't had much time to talk," said the woman, making Daenerys frown at being called a child. Maege laughed at her reaction.
"Don't look so surprised. You may be our future queen and hold His Majesty's heart, but you're still just a little girl," she said with a half-smile. Daenerys barely had time to respond.
"Now look and pay attention. We failed to make Robb Stark as fierce as he once was at the start of the war. And, if I'm right, Daemon intends to take him South. He won't want a cornered wolf at his side — he wants to make the wolf roar again, show his teeth," Maege said, laughing as she watched Daemon continue pressing Robb.
"Come on! Is that all you can do? Defend yourself? You're disappointing me, Stark!" Daemon provoked.
In a burst of fury, Robb pushed Daemon's sword away with strength and finally launched an attack. Daemon dodged swiftly and, in one quick motion, kicked Robb hard in the stomach, sending him flying backward, rolling across the courtyard floor as his body hit the ground.
The courtyard fell silent. Daemon stopped, looking satisfied. Robb tried to catch his breath — the blow had been strong, proving once again that Daemon was a true monster in combat.
But what surprised everyone was what came next. Daemon approached and extended his hand to his cousin.
"Seems the wolf still knows how to bite quite well, Stark," Daemon said with a faint smile.
Robb, panting, slightly out of breath, stared at him for a moment. He might have been a broken wolf, but something fierce still lingered within him. Perhaps that was the first step to getting it back.
At last, Robb took Daemon's hand and stood, under the watchful eyes of the courtyard.
At that very moment, a commotion arose near the gates. A large Northern host had just come into view of Winterfell — and, at their head, the seat of House Stark.
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