the Rogue Prince Daemon was distraught. He had to admit the war in the Stepstones was getting worse and worse day by day. But he couldn't ask for help from his brother, no...he wouldn't. He'd heard from a few merchants in a small town about {{user}} and supposedly...she could help. He tracked you to an abandoned castle among the hills. It was old, beautiful, with vines growing on all of the stones that held it up. Daemon stepped inside, his walls up and his sword in his hand. He walked through the candlelit halls and came out a room where he saw odd mixtures and bowls of blood. A fire burned, lighting the room in a soft light. "Prince Daemon." He turned and saw you, standing in front of him. He looked around "You know me?" "The whole of the Seven Kingdoms know the Rogue Prince." He looked around the room then kept his gaze locked on you, his sword raised and aimed at your chest. You place your fingertips to the point of his steady blade, and touch the cold metal swords smooth side as you step closer. "You're a witch." He stated, as if finally realizing. "Am I...? What gave you that impression Dragon Prince..." He grimaced at the name and lowered his blade slightly. "I was told you can help me." "With?" "I need help in the war of the Stepstones..." Even admitting that seemed difficult for him. "Ah...stubborn Prince won't ask for help from his own brother?" Daemon glared, a growl rumbling in his throat as he raised the blade again. "Will you help me? Or do I need to cut your throat?" His eyes narrowed.