Child of Winter's "Smile"

The first ray of dawn was like a dull knife, slowly cutting through the thin mist over Silk Street before falling squarely on Daemon's eyelids.

His hangover headache felt like countless fine needles stirring in his temples. He groaned and opened his eyes to find unfamiliar velvet bed curtains embroidered with gaudy golden maidens. Memories of last night were like parchment scorched by dragonfire, leaving only scattered, feverishly hot fragments.

Steady breathing came from beside him. Daemon stiffly turned his head and saw Mysaria curled beneath the brocade quilt, her platinum curls spread across the pillow like a dandelion puff wet with morning dew. Her eyelashes were long and fluttering faintly. She was clearly close to waking as well.

He abruptly sat up, his silk nightshirt slipping from his shoulder and exposing the black three-headed dragon brand on his right shoulder. At some point, it had begun glowing with a faint red light again, as though silently mocking his loss of control.

Just then, a shriek so piercing it cracked rang out from the plaza below, shattering the peace of dawn. "My Seven Gods! What the fuck is that?!"

It was Daemon Targaryen's voice. Immediately afterward, an earthshaking dragon roar boomed like thunder, making the windowpanes hum and completely clearing the haze from Daemon's mind.

He staggered to the window and flung open the wooden shutters.

The broadest plaza on Silk Street was packed with poorly dressed clients, prostitutes, and early-rising merchants. The crowd had been pushed apart as if by an invisible wall, forming a huge empty circle.

At the center of that circle, a magnificent giant dragon lay coiled lazily across the paving stones. It was Dreamfyre, her scales like molten gold and silver, flowing with rainbow brilliance beneath the morning light. With her wings folded, she looked as though she wore a cloak studded with jewels.

And on Dreamfyre's broad back, Princess Gael and Alicent Hightower were asleep, leaning against each other.

Gael's sky-blue nightgown fluttered slightly in the morning breeze. A few scale-like fragments clung to Alicent's gray-green skirt. Both girls' hair was somewhat disheveled, yet they slept exceptionally peacefully, as if merely taking a nap in the gardens of the Red Keep.

"This..." Daemon's mind went completely blank.

How had they gotten here? And mounted Dreamfyre? In the history he knew, no one had ever ridden Dreamfyre between her former rider Rhaena and her next rider Helaena. Was it Gael?

The commotion below continued.

Daemon Targaryen stood limping at the edge of the plaza. The three prostitutes he had carefully selected the night before had long vanished. A nobleman's cloak, snatched from who knew where, hung crookedly from his body, exposing the wrinkled silk shirt underneath.

Clearly, the dissolute prince had intended to sneak back to the Red Keep before daybreak, only to stumble into this horrifying sight.

"G-Gael, Aunt?" Daemon Targaryen's voice trembled like a leaf in the autumn wind. He instinctively took a step back, tugging at his injured leg and making him grimace in pain. "How did you..." Before he could finish, Dreamfyre suddenly gave an irritated growl. Her enormous head lifted slightly, and her golden slit pupils swept over the mortals below with the arrogance and majesty unique to dragons.

The commotion woke the two girls on the dragon's back. Gael rubbed her eyes, still somewhat dazed at first, but the instant her gaze locked onto Daemon Targaryen, fury blazed in her pale violet eyes.

"Daemon Targaryen!" Gael's voice was not loud, yet it was like ice dropped into boiling oil, exploding across the plaza in an instant. She rose from the dragon's back, her skirts snapping in the wind. Though she had the slender frame of a delicate young girl, she now radiated a chilling presence. "Tell me, what are you doing here?!"

Alicent was also startled awake by the sudden voice beside her. Seeing the scene below, she hurriedly grabbed Gael's sleeve and softly urged, "Princess, let's get down first..."

But Gael seemed not to hear her. Her eyes remained nailed to Daemon Targaryen, and the chill in her voice could nearly freeze the air. "I'm asking you, where is little Daemon? Was he with you last night?"

Daemon Targaryen's scalp prickled under that stare. His not-yet-healed leg suddenly gave out, and with a thud, he dropped to one knee. The pain made him bare his teeth, but he did not dare make a sound.

He had lived for many years. He had seen King Jaehaerys's wrath, endured Prince Baelon's whip, and even faced the curved blades of Narrow Sea pirates. Yet he had never been as afraid as he was now. There was no anger in Gael's eyes, only a frozen wasteland, more despairing than the winter of the North.

"Speak!" Gael's voice suddenly rose. Dreamfyre seemed to sense her rider's fury and abruptly raised her head. A vicious gleam flashed through her golden slit pupils as she exhaled a blast of scorching dragonfire onto the paving stones before Daemon Targaryen, instantly blackening them as thick smoke billowed upward.

The onlookers cried out and hurriedly retreated. Daemon Targaryen was scared out of his wits. He scrambled backward on hands and feet, stammering, "U-Upstairs! He's upstairs!"

Gael's gaze immediately swept over the surrounding balconies like a hawk's before settling on the window where Daemon stood.

When she saw that familiar face, the ice in her eyes instantly melted, replaced by intense concern. The corners of her lips even curved into a gentle smile as she softly said, "Little Daemon, are you all right..."

Before she could finish, her gaze passed over Daemon's shoulder and landed on the girl rubbing her eyes as she poked her head out from behind him in confusion.

Mysaria's platinum curls hung messily over her shoulders. She wore a loose black silk robe that clearly belonged to a man, its collar wide open to reveal ambiguous red marks along her collarbone.

Time seemed to freeze at that moment.

The smile on Gael's face did not disappear. It remained as gentle as spring sunlight in the Red Keep gardens, but the concern in her eyes visibly faded, replaced once more by ice—colder even than before.

That smile even made Daemon Blackfyre Targaryen—the Black Dragon, the Warrior Come Again, the Conqueror Reborn, the man who had incited a rebellion that swept through the Seven Kingdoms in his previous life and, in this one, tamed Glutton, king of wild dragons, and fought his way out of mountains of corpses and seas of blood—feel fear...

Gael tilted her head slightly and softly said to Alicent, "Alicent, help me down."

Her voice was terrifyingly calm. Yet Alicent shivered for no reason, quickly nodded, and carefully helped Gael as the two slid down Dreamfyre's extended foreleg to the ground.

When Gael landed, her skirts brushed over the paving stones scorched black by dragonfire. She did not even glance at them, walking straight toward the balcony where Daemon stood.

Dreamfyre let out a low roar, as though escorting her rider. Her golden eyes vigilantly scanned the surroundings, ensuring that no one dared stand in her way.

Daemon froze by the window, watching Gael approach step by step. Her pace was slow, yet carried an irresistible authority. Every step felt as if it were landing upon his heart. He instinctively wanted to close the window, only to find his fingers trembling beyond his control.

Mysaria finally woke completely. She looked at the scene below, then at Daemon's pale face, and suddenly understood something. Her face drained of color as she shrank behind him, silently clutching the fabric of his nightshirt with her fingertips. Her eyes darted away, yet still held a trace of stubbornness.

Gael reached the entrance of the Pleasure Hall and looked up at Daemon in the window. That gentle smile remained on her face, but her eyes were as cold as ice. "Little Daemon, come down."

The simple words made Daemon feel pressure unlike anything he had ever known. He knew that this farce born of desire and worry had finally reached its most difficult moment. Above the plaza, Dreamfyre soared into the sky and let out another long dragon cry, as though sounding the prelude to the coming storm.