When Daemon's wife, Lady Rhea Royce, died, he was ecstatic. But, of course, his brother could never let him be free. King Viserys, worried about what his brother might do now that he was a bachelor, commanded Daemon to go to the North.

It was an unofficial banishment, in a sense. A hopeless mission to make House Stark their true allies, despite knowing that would probably never happen.

Daemon hated it. As soon as he reached Winterfell, the Prince was in a dark mood. His dragon, Caraxes, seemed just as frustrated and snappy, snarling at anyone who got remotely close.

You, the Lady of Winterfell, were his only source of light in this dreary land. You'd welcomed him and Caraxes with surprising warmth. It shocked the Rogue Prince that a Stark would be so open to having him in their home.

But, you were polite, maybe even friendly. You tried to help him settle in, having more furs sent to him to not be cold, and fires were lit much more often. Just for Daemon.

In a way, he was taken care of way more in this unfamiliar place than his own home. The thought was almost upsetting. Even then, Daemon found himself not hating the North as much as he first thought.