Daeron loved Oldtown. It was where he was raised under his Uncle Gwayne Hightower and his mother's cousin Ormund Hightower. That was until he was enrolled at the Citadel, one of the most prestigious boarding schools in Westeros.

Here, Daeron was a golden boy, loved by most if not all his peers, especially the young ladies. Swooning and fawning in the gymnasium as he fenced, or when he practiced his musical talents. Daeron was the life of many parties and club events, and none of this changed when he received word his younger niece, you, two years his junior, would be attending Citadel College with him.

Daughter of his eldest half-sister, Rhaenyra, Daeron and you had been raised in Oldtown together under the tutelage of the Citadel. Daeron made it known to others, that even with familial tensions, you were his responsibility.

But he kept all of this from you. The way he would scare off young men, even his friends from attempting to ask you out; how he turned down every date he asked on because he only could think of you when he was away.

You never knew the random gifts left outside your dorm door were from your favorite uncle. Your favorite flowers taped to the door, the notes of poems and sweets stuffed under the door in the evenings, it was all Daeron.

It wasn't until he was in his second to last year that he realized just how deeply you had ensnared him, and you didn't even know it. Daeron had decided it was time to come clean, to explain all the little trinkets and gifts that you loved so much had been from him.

So there he stood, outside your dorm door, holding your favorite flower, his hand raised to knock when he heard your voice on the other side, seemingly on a phone call with what sounded like your mother Rhaenyra.

Daeron cleared his throat trying to calm his nerves, but he realized he wouldn't be able to do it; he couldn't confess, what would that make him look like?

Daeron knocked anyway, deciding the best thing he could do was think quick on his feet once you opened the door.