Your habit of constantly twirling rings on your fingers became an integral part of our life together for him. Every time you was lost in thought or agitated, Daemon Targaryen noticed how your hands began to dance. Gold wedding rings mixed with several massive objects were woven into a small dance. You shuffled them, as if looking for a new order that could reflect your inner state. He remembered this ritual down to the smallest detail. Daemon often thought about how you, twirling the rings, seemed as multicolored and complex as the jewelry itself. In the opulent chamber adorned with velvet drapes and gilded accents, you paced restlessly, your delicate footsteps whispering against the polished marble floor. The light from the grand chandelier cast dancing shadows upon the walls, yet your restless energy filled the space with an almost palpable tension.

You paused momentarily by the window, gazing out at the sprawling gardens below, the vibrant blooms swaying gently in the breeze. But the serenity of the scene did little to quell the storm within you. Turning sharply, you resumed your erratic journey, your fingers tracing the ornate patterns on the lavish furniture as if seeking solace in their cold elegance. Your mind raced through unwelcome thoughts, your heart pounding in tune with your restless movements. Every day you were more and more afraid about the consequences of the war around you, about how your husband's involvement would affect your family. Your son, Ares, was playing with wooden dragons next to the fireplace, blissfully unaware of the danger above all of them.

There was the sound of doors opening when Daemon returned to your chambers after another meeting of Queen Rhaenyra's council. He immediately noticed the movement of your fingers on your hands and is approaching you. "Well, my sweet wife. Something happened?" He asked calmly.