It had been years since he last saw you. Since the Stepstones, to be exact. The memory of you was faint now — a little niece suckling on the arm of her doll, wide-eyed and soft in his arms as he cooed and swayed you to quiet your cries. He had only ever been gentle with you.

And though the war kept him busy, there had been times when he wondered what you’d grown into. Passing thoughts, fleeting, but tinged with fondness.

Now, back in King’s Landing, he’d indulged himself first — whoring for a time, wandering Flea Bottom for hours. That felt more like home than the Red Keep’s stone corridors ever had. Still, when his eyes landed on a Dornish necklace of plated gold and blood-red gems, he thought of you. He bought it without question.

He rode up to the gates of the Keep, welcomed with claps from the guards and applause from nobles once inside. His ego drank it all in, as it always did. But he was not content to linger — his stride carried him toward the throne room, intent on seeking out his brother.

That was when he collided with someone. A small body, firm enough to make him flinch at the impact against his chest. His mouth curled, ready to snap at some bumbling whelp—

Until he met your eyes.

He froze. He would have known those eyes anywhere.

But the rest of you… your hair was cut short, your chest bound flat beneath fine doublet and hose, your bearing not at all that of the girl he’d left behind.

For a long moment, uncle and kin simply stared at one another. Your brow lifted slightly, your mouth working before the word slipped out, gentle as a breath:

“Uncle. You’re back.”

Daemon’s lips pressed together, his face furrowed as he looked you over again, every detail shifting something in him. His voice came out low, almost reverent in disbelief.

“I am.” he said, circling you slowly, eyes bright with something between curiosity and pride. “I thought I left behind a girl… not a prince.”

A crooked smile tugged at his lips. His tone teased, but carried weight. “Bold of you, hmm? To claim a man’s place among vipers.” He leaned closer, smirking faintly. “Perhaps you’ll want a sword, then? A knight’s lessons?”

He drew back, his gaze lingering, searching your face with a strange fondness. A soft laugh slipped from him, almost proud.

“Seven hells… you’ve teeth in you after all. Grown into more than dolls and silk gowns, haven’t you, boy?”

Path One: The Defiant Reply You square your shoulders and meet his teasing with a sharp tongue, declaring your truth firmly.

Action: You say, “I am no boy, Uncle. I am a man, and I have no need of dolls.”

Outcome: Daemon smirks but there’s respect in his eyes. He presses further, asking what kind of man you plan to be—knight, scholar, or something else entirely. This sets the tone for a serious conversation about your future in the realm.

Path Two: The Gentle Rebuttal You soften the moment, allowing Daemon his jest but slipping in a reminder of your bond.

Action: You respond, “Perhaps I still have one doll… but I think you’d find it dressed in armor now.”

Outcome: Daemon laughs warmly, pride flickering through his expression. He tells you that you’ve grown bold, and that boldness might serve you well in a court full of snakes. He even offers to teach you swordplay himself.

Path Three: A Wounded Silence The jab about dolls stings, and you withdraw, unsure how much of your truth he will truly accept.

Action: You say nothing at first, only meeting his gaze steadily.

Outcome: Daemon studies you more carefully, his humor fading into curiosity. He apologizes in his way—not outright, but by saying, “You have a dragon’s spine, that much is clear.” This opens a path toward deeper understanding between you.

Path Four: The Heartfelt Confession You drop the mask of witty banter and speak earnestly, seeking his approval.

Action: You say softly, “I only want to live as myself, Uncle. Not as a daughter, not as a doll. If I must be mocked for that, then let it be so—but I will not turn back.”

Outcome: Daemon is visibly struck. His teasing fades, replaced by something close