Father leaned forward, his elbows resting upon his knees. "What possessed you, Daemon of House Targaryen, to not only aid my enemies, but to actively hinder the progress of my Imperium?"
Daemon, still gasping for breath, had no immediate answer. He could only stare up at the Imperator in naked fear.
"I have no enmity with House Targaryen. Yet you not only trespass upon my demesne but actively participate in a war that is not your own. Tell me," Father pressed, his voice carrying the deadly ring of drawn steel, "is this the official stance Jaehaerys is taking against Rome?"
Daemon visibly paled at the terrifying geopolitical insinuation. "N-No. This was entirely my doing. House Targaryen had nothing to do with this excursion. I was foolish... I did not think about the consequences of my actions. I will take full responsibility. I beg of you, do not escalate this any further."
At this, Lily could no longer hold her tongue. She strode forward, placing herself firmly beside the kneeling prince. "Father, please. I know what Daemon did was wrong, but if he is guilty, then I am guilty of a far greater crime. I actively worked against our own people. I even killed Roman soldiers on the field of battle."
It seemed it was time for me to play my part in this carefully orchestrated charade.
"You are right, dear sister," I interjected smoothly, stepping forward. "But you fail to understand the fundamental difference. While your bloody actions were necessary to maintain your cover for the war effort to succeed, the Valyrian's actions most certainly were not. If anything, they actively set us back in our efforts to subjugate Qohor. Furthermore, Caraxes is his bonded mount; he is, in essence, entirely responsible for the beast's slaughter."
Lily shot me a vicious, withering glare, but she held her tongue, turning her green eyes back to Father. I could see the suspicion brewing behind her gaze; she knew we were up to no good.
Father ignored our sibling spar, keeping his unyielding focus upon Daemon. "Be that as it may, Targaryen, you have acted against me and mine. For that, you will face judgement. A missive has already been dispatched to King's Landing, informing the Iron Throne of your involvement here. Once an official representative arrives, we shall discuss the merit of letting you return home. Until then, you shall be confined to one of the guest chambers."
Father leaned back into the emerald glow. "Octavian. Take him and station two Praetorians at his door. After that, you and Lily will join me in the antechamber."
I smiled faintly and offered a crisp nod just as the heavy timber doors to the throne room swung open. A group of elite Praetorian Guards entered their silver armour gleaming as they awaited my command.
I took the lead, guiding our small procession through the winding, vaulted corridors of the Imperial Palace. Praetorian Guards fell into step a respectful distance behind us, their heavy iron boots ringing in unison against the polished marble floors.
Daemon walked between Lily and me, his posture rigid. The sheer terror he had exhibited in the throne room had retreated, replaced by a tense, hyper-vigilant paranoia. His purple eyes darted to every passing servant, every shadowed archway, and every stationed guard. He was a caged dragon, fully aware of his sudden vulnerability deep within enemy territory.
Lily walked close to his side, her presence a deliberate, grounding anchor.
"My father will not harm you, Daemon," she murmured, her voice soft but steady. "I promise you. And he will not harm Caraxes either."
Daemon shot a sharp, distrustful look in my direction before answering her. "Your father did not seem all too benevolent moments ago Ana. Forgive me if I do not find immediate comfort in Imperial promises."
I did not break my stride, keeping my gaze fixed upon the corridor ahead. "The Imperator merely induced a magical slumber, Targaryen. Your beast is perfectly safe. He is currently resting guarded by a full cohort of Roman legionaries to ensure no harm comes upon his being."
Daemon's jaw tightened. It was painfully clear that he found exactly zero comfort in the idea of a Roman legion surrounding his unconscious mount. His distrust of me was written plainly across his bruised, aristocratic features.
Sensing the rising tension, Lily reached out, her small, soot-stained hand firmly clasping Daemon's.
The Valyrian flinched slightly at the contact, but he did not pull away. He looked down at her, his rigid posture softening a fraction.
"I will do everything in my power to ensure my father grants you leniency," Lily reassured him, her green eyes holding his purple ones with an earnest, unyielding sincerity. "But until an official representative arrives from the Seven Kingdoms to negotiate your release, you must remain here. It will not be a dungeon, Daemon. You are a guest in this palace. When you have rested, I will show you the grounds myself."
Daemon studied her face, searching for any trace of the political duplicity he so clearly suspected of me. Finding none, the last of the fight seemed to drain out of him. He let out an exhausted breath, his shoulders slumping in defeat.
"Very well," he relented quietly, his fingers briefly squeezing hers.
We rounded a final corner, stepping into the eastern guest wing. I came to a halt before a set of heavy, gilded oak doors.
"We have arrived," I announced smoothly.
I offered a subtle nod to the trailing Praetorians. They stepped forward efficiently, hauling the heavy doors open to reveal a sprawling, opulent bedchamber. The room was heated by a roaring hearth, the massive four-poster bed draped in rich crimson velvet, a stark contrast to the mud and blood we were currently covered in.
Daemon stepped over the threshold, turning back to face us.
"I will see you soon," Lily promised softly.
Before the Valyrian could offer a reply, my sister leaned forward, pressing a brief, lingering kiss to his lips.
I rolled my eyes, letting out a loud, highly exaggerated gagging sound.
Lily broke the kiss instantly, her cheeks darkening. Without missing a beat, she spun around and drove her fist hard into my shoulder.
"Ouch," I deadpanned, rubbing the spot more for theatrical effect than actual pain. "The heavy armour does not entirely negate the brute force, sister."
She glared at me, though the fierce edge was entirely ruined by the faint, exhausted smile fighting to break through. She turned back to Daemon, offering him one last, reassuring look.
"Rest, Daemon," she said gently.