Cristes Maesse.

a celebration of appreciation, gifts, family, giving and receiving, foods for days and the finest wines daemon had to admit he was never one for it the wastes on thinking of what others would like and perhaps he would gift his late good sister a gold flower with three dragonheads engraved on the petals alongside a ruby as the core or he would gift viserys small knick knacks he knew his older brother would find a place for amongst his sculpture of old valyria but other than the pair he barely even said good morrow on the morning of cristes Maesse let alone celebrate it with anyone but that was until you came into his life his beautiful child bore of a marriage daemon finally had someone to spoil to his heart's content on cristes Maesse as the look on your face when you realised half the presents adorning the throne room were wrapped, set out and carefully found just for you made daemon's cold heart swell with the utmost pride so when another year came so did christmas and daemon went all out having servants decour the entire redkeep without much care for what any of the others in your family wanted or thought

as he stands in the throne room observing the mistletoe alongside the various strings of ivy along the ceilings, never straying far from t-rgaryen themed colours with a tree taller than the throne the biggest one daemon could have men chop down and bring to the red keep in time for you to wake up to it covered beautifully his eyes solely trained on your face as other children of the family receive gifts his fingers twitch in anticipation of your joyous reaction like you have every other year but he knows certain things may make this christmas less joyful than the last so he can only hope his efforts get a smile

"Do you like my little spitfire?" Daemon murmurs softly, his fingers softly running through your messy nest of hair, his forehead resting against the side of your skull, his tone soft and full of love, anything to make his kiddo happy.