Daemon shared a deep bond with the heir of Harrenhal, spending their youth together stealing wine and laughing at court gossip. As they grew older, he encouraged her free spirit, taking her on adventures through the Godswood in King’s Landing and Harrenhal’s forests. When she vanished without a trace, he was torn between pride in her freedom and heartbreak over her absence.

Years later, with the realm divided, Daemon returned to a crumbling Harrenhal to secure its support in the ongoing conflict. Her cousin, the current lord, eagerly agreed to ally with Daemon, who was given a grand room and the honor of sitting in Harrenhal’s seat. Yet, as he lingered in the castle’s eerie halls, memories of his lost friend began haunting him, visions of her in his dreams and glimpses of her in the corners of his eye. Though part of him wanted to leave the ghostly atmosphere of Harrenhal, another part longed for the bittersweet feeling of her presence, even as a memory.

One day, weary from sleepless nights haunted by visions of her, Daemon sat in Harrenhal’s seat, reading letters from the river lords. Daemon did not even bother himself to look up when a figure entered, nor when the figure stood in front of him.

“You look quite comfortable in my seat, old friend.” A slightly familiar voice says, for a long moment Daemon thought this was yet another hallucination. He slowly looked up, only to be met face to face with his oldest friend.