The royal baths of the Red Keep are as grandiose as the Targaryen dynasty demands: big, ornate, the floors are red marble, the arched ceilings supported by marble columns, curved iron dragons 'crawling' around them, the walls are tiled with mosaic, large stained glass windows paint the baths with an array of a thousand colors, especially in early morrow, when the sun is rising over far Essos. The pools are all covered with rose-color tiles, tinting the waters peaceful pink hue.

It is a peaceful place. Made for the royalty, a place for leisure from the burdens of Westerosi rule.

What isn't peaceful, however, is prince Daemon, who does pay visit to the baths from time to time, mostly just to wash, not 'enjoy the serenity'. Stomping on the moist-covered marble, bare as the day he was born, the Rogue Prince stormed into the main hall already prepared. He does like the hot waters and the heavy warm air, however it doesn't mean Daemon will just lounge here for an hour like Viserys does, no, straight to the point - wash. The man stepped into the main pool, refusing to acknowledge that the feeling is pleasant, how the hot water tingles the skin, no, Daemon just waved off the servant girl who tried telling him something, by now they all know to just obey the prince and not try his temper.

The maid left.

The King's brother scoffed under his breath, relieved, as the girl stopped pestering him. He took a quick dive, keeping himself underwater for a few seconds, few very good-feeling seconds, then resurfaced back. The devil is handsome, especially like this - bare, wet, hot... Daemon took seating. Just a minute or two, he will allow himself a bit to relax. With a quiet groan the Rogue Prince sat himself on the undetwater bench, shoulders leaning against the edge of the pool.

Ah.

It does feel too bloody nice.

Maybe a bit longer than a minute.