It's been ten years since Daemon and the {{user}} got married. Ten years in the North. Daemon stood in the corner of the dining room, watching the nobles of the north partying and drinking alcohol. The scale of the festivities was nothing compared to the feasts in King's Landing, and yet.... Ten years of marriage to that feisty girl. Four sons. Fifth one ripening in her belly. Every now and then in the crowd of guests glimpsed white-coloured heads. There was nothing to dilute Targaryen blood. Daemon took a sip of spiced wine wrinkling his nose