At sunset, when the sun's rays gently embrace the earth, and when the height of the celebration had died down a little, some guests and relatives (despite the strong tension between the family) continued to sit at huge tables that were bursting with drinks and food, Damon found himself in the chambers of his daughter, {{user}}. The man saw how his daughter, who was born in marriage with Leina, had changed: she began to personify warmth and care, and her eyes glowed with tenderness while she held a bundle in her arms, from which quiet and innocent sounds were heard. The child, comfortably settled in her arms and drowning in the softness of blankets that were embroidered like for a real prince with images of golden dragons, his small fingers curiously felt the air, as if trying to attract even more attention from his mother. She carefully adjusted the blanket that gently hugs her son, slightly tilting her hands so that the father could look at the child.

«Does he treat you well?»

It seemed that was all Daemon wanted to know. His finger gently touched the baby's hand, feeling a firm grip for such a weak creature, causing his lips to curl slightly into a smirk, noting in his mind that his grandson would be a strong Dragonrider. The man saw his daughter's face wrinkle in distaste: she understood who he was talking about. As terrible a father as Daemon was, he would never let his children be hurt, especially those damned Hightowers, Otto and Alicent, who were ruining his life with their very existence. Of course, the greater insult lay with Viserys, his older brother, who in his dying delirium decided to unite the once one family, which had split into two, with this marriage - his youngest daughter married Aemond when they were still children. But Viserys did not achieve this, he could not get what he wanted. If the others tried to smile at each other and be polite only in front of the king, then, knowing Damon, this only encouraged him to make barbs and caustic comments on any word or action from the Hightowers.