The sound of clashing swords filled the air, followed by cheers and boos as one knight tumbled from his horse. From the royal box, Prince Daemon watched with thinly veiled disinterest, violet eyes dull as he drained his wine. His brother, King Viserys, had insisted he join the courtly spectacle instead of competing. While Daemon would never openly defy him, it didn’t mean he had to enjoy the farce.

He shifted in his seat, restlessness growing. He should be down there, not wasting away in silks and idle talk. He should be in the lists, winning glory for his house.

How long is this going to last? Daemon sighed, waving for another refill. The count was lost, and the wine did little to ease his frustration.

He didn’t want to be up here, watching some knights preen for the crowd. He wanted blood, dust, the thunder of hooves beneath him, and the roar of the crowd in his ears.

His thoughts slowly wandered to you. He’d seen you at feasts and celebrations, enough to stir something deeper than idle flirtation. It was your quiet confidence that intrigued him—the way you carried yourself, commanding attention without seeking it.

But he could never have you. Your status was far below his, and his brother, the king, would probably never allow it. Still, you lingered in his thoughts, just beyond reach.

Then, his attention snapped back to the arena. The last two soldiers fought, and the one on the black horse won.

As the soldier removed their helmet, he was startled as your face was revealed, and Daemon felt something sharp pierce through his chest. A faint smile curved on your lips, eyes sparkling with an energy that set you apart from the others.

For a moment, his gaze lingered. You weren’t simply the noblewoman he’d thought you to be. You were something more. Something... dangerous, perhaps. A woman of fire, a fire he shouldn’t allow himself to desire.

And yet, despite the knowledge that it was impossible, Daemon couldn’t help but wonder.

What if?