ethanjory

Galaxy Aflame! A space opera RP

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The Dance of Dragons - (ASoI&F) (GoT) - [Openly Recruiting]

Daeron Targaryen
The Hightower, Oldtown, Westeros

His father was dead. A rush of emotions went thorugh Daeron upon hearing the news, though none of them was surprise. It had been a shadow hanging over him ever since his father had to postpone his last visit to Oldtown due to his health, and it was further cemented when the delay became indefinite. He even did his duty as son when he was dragged to the sept by a group of highborn girls to pray for the king's health. He only managed mumble out a few lines before his face grew red and he rushed out of the sept. They would giggle to themselves whenever they saw him after that, and all he could manage was turn his head away in shame. Still, he now wished that he had spent more time in prayer, in case the gods were listening for once and it would have made the difference.

He had held no allusions that he had a closeness to his father like his half-sister Rhaenyra, but his father had existed as being bigger than life to Daeron while he was growing up, with his thick beard and jovial smile. Sometimes he wasn't sure if he would still love his brothers if they weren't related to each other, but he knew the same couldn't be said of his father. If he was taught anything, it was to support and love your family, something that was clearly lost on his brothers and Rhaenyra. Daeron had always been aware of his freedom as the youngest, even if it made him into more of an afterthought than anything else. It ultimately led him to become much different than his brothers, even if he didn't exactly realize it himself.

He had been in the training yards with the other boys around his age, including Robin Redwyne, Willum Bulwer, and others that tended to group around him, when Maester Trebayn pulled him to the side to let him know that Lord Ormund required his presence. This had taken Daeron aback, after all this was one of his days of leisure in which he didn't have to directly serve the lord of the Hightower, and Lord Ormund wasn't the kind of man who cared much for Daeron's royal status, working him the same as any other boy who could have been named his cupbear or squire. The reason as to why Lord Ormund would need to see him raced through his mind, progressively becoming worse and worse, until Daeron shook it off, thanked the maester, and began to head towards Lord Ormund's study. He had taken plenty of bruises from the wooden practice swords in the training yard, and had even took one to his temple, which throbbed each time he placed a foot on each stone step. It was called the Hightower for good reason, and by the time he came the door of Lord Ormund's study, he felt as if his head was about to explode.

He rapped the old oak door a few times to announce his arrival and was soon answered.

"Enter."

Lord Ormund's voice was cold and consise, something that would have been better suited on a battlefield or devising strategy among other highborn lords than to a lowly squire such as Daeron, even if he was still technically a prince. The room was among the smallest within the Hightower, a bit cramped, but probably the most conducive when it came to balancing finances and performing the necessary duties of a lord alone. It even sported a small library of its own, with successive lords of the Hightower adding to it over the years. It was separate from the main library, but both were put to shame by massive one at the Citadel. There were plenty of scholars who came there to study, especially if they had no interest in being under the scrutinizing gaze of maesters. Lord Ormund wasn't a man who was particulary interested in shoving his nose inbetween two pages, so most of the books served little purpose than to collect dust, but they remained, if only for his respect to those who came before him.

Lord Orumund had his back turned to Daeron, standing next to an intricately carved oaken table to the left, pouring wine from a pitcher into a glass. As to what kind of wine it could be, Daeron had rarely drinken any in his life,his mother had seen to that. Except for the times Aegon and Aemond smuggled some when they were much younger, of course. Lord Ormund motioned towards an empty chair next to a desk that was nestled between the back corner of the room and a bookcase.

"Sit."

Daeron went over and sat in the chair, growing all the more nervous with each passing second. He had been in this room many times before, to serve his cousin with a variety of different matters, but had never sat in this chair. However, he had witnessed many important people do so on many occasions. He felt his cousin come up behind him, and place the glass in front of Daeron, still not giving away why he had called the young prince here to meet in private.

"Drink."

At first Daeron only sipped it, taken aback by how it was both sour and sweet at the same time, but when he saw Ormund shake his head, he chugged the rest of it, making him lightheaded and removing the headache that he had before. Lord Ormund then sat across from Daeron, fiddling with a piece of parchment that could only have been a message carried by a raven , which served as the messenger system for all of Westeros, maintained by every maester. "Your father," Ormund began, finally showing some sign of empathy, "is dead."

The news had hit Daeron with the amount of force that would have hit any other boy upon learning about the death of a family member, with time slowing and reality itself feeling surreal. As if this was just some fantasy and he was asleep at bed, none the wiser. The wine did little to alleviate the knot that was growing in his gut, and he sort of wished he had more to drink. Imagining never seeing his father again alive was wholly unsettling, and made him want to rush to King's Landing right then and there just to see the rest of his family.

Lord Ormund only threw the piece of paper on his desk in disgust. "If I had known the king's illness had worsened to such a degree... I would have had you sent for King's Landing immediately. A son should have the right to be at side of his father when he's on his deathbed. And noot so much as a single raven from my uncle or anyone else!"

Daeron had wished that they would have sent a raven as well, but they must of had some kind of reason for doing so, he knew neither of his brothers would be malicious about something like that. But with Rhaenyra the new queen, he just didn't know. His half-sister was more a stranger to him than nearly anyone else.
"I'd have you packing your things for King's Landing right now, if it wasn't for this other news." Ormund picked up the message again, if only to make absolutely sure he didn't miss a single detail from it. "Your brother has been crowned king."

Aegon? Even he knew that it had been his father's wish to pass the crown to his half-sister, and had never once thought about the ramifications that would come upon his father's death. "Then that means..."

"War. Plain and simple." Lord Ormund crumpled the message and tossed it back to the table. "I have no issue in seeing your brother crowned, lad. Just the way they went about it, scheming and in the shadows." He grinded his teeth as that single thought left his mouth. "But's it's done, and we have to live with it."

"I should go to King's Landing right now!" Daeron blurted out. "I'll need to help Aegon and Aemond."

Ormund gave Daeron one of his cold stares. "You'll be staying here. I'm still responsible for your wellbeing and won't have my squire go out on his on accord to King's Landing, which happens to be only a stone's throw away from Dragonstone." He had brought the wine pitcher with him to the table, and proceeded to pour some out of it into his own cup and took a long hard drink.

"Half the Reach is likely to rise up against us, with the mother and babe at Highgarden sitting the conflict out and doing nothing." He looked at his own empty glass with disappointment, but refrained from adding any more wine.

"War isn't certain..." Daeron began, but even he wasn't completely sure of the words that were coming out of his mouth. "I don't know what, but there has to be something we can do." At that Ormund only gave him a hard look, and got to his feet, guesturing for Daeron to follow. They made their way to the balcony that was connected to the study, and being one of the higher rooms within the Hightower itself, offered a stunning view of harbor of Oldtown below. Daeron could only make out specks of what he assumed were people below, but he easily made note of the ships coming in and out of the harbor, proving to all why Oldtown was the largest and most prosperous of the cities of Westeros.

"I did say that I was responsble for you, lad." Ormund began, as he scratched his short graying beard. "But this," Ormund said as he motioned towards all that was in front of them, "is everything else that I'm responsible for. Oldtown, the Honeywine, up to the Florents in Brightwater Keep and everything in between. The people, no matter who they are or what they believe in, or if they even care about who sits that metal chair, they all look at me for protection and guidance. Every last one."

Ormund sighed. "I don't relish to see war come to this land, nor would I wish it upon my worst enemies. I do I have an obligation to these people, my house, and my family..." Ormund paused as he gave a glance to Daeron. "War was coming ever since King Viserys took your mother and my cousin as wife. Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon will not accept anything less than the Iron Throne."

Daeron knew that Aegon wouldn't be any different, even if it meant his head on a spike along with the rest of his family. That was a grim thought for him, as he couldn't imagine Rhaenyra becoming a kinslayer. But what did he know of war or the changes that it could cause in people? He only knew that he truly didn't want to see any of his family kill each other, for whatever reason, legitimate or not. "You can't truly expect me to wait and do nothing?"

"Wait, aye, because you alone can do nothing. There likely will be a parley between both sides, should neither side do anything foolish before then. It'll accomplish nothing, as neither side will yield an inch." Ormund cast his gaze towards the north and everything that lay beyond. "It's better to stay here, the both of us. To raise an army and pacify the Reach as quickly possible- that will end the war more quickly- nothing else. Unless, of course, the new king directs you elsewhere, of which I'd be honorbound to oblige."

Daeron gritted his teeth. He felt so helpless, so powerless. How could a dragonrider be reduced to such, when he could take to the sky at will when so few could? He had half a mind to fly to Dragonstone himself, confront Rhaenyra, and figure out a way to end all of this. Ormund's words rang true to him, however, and he knew he couldn't go off on his own without his brother's knowledge or approval. This just made him desperately wish that he or his grandfather had added additional directives for him in that message. In the coming days, he'd just have to relent on these feelings and aid his cousin in whatever capacity that he could. The older man noticed this and the corner of his mouth twitched upwards, which was as much of a genuine smile as you'd ever get out of Lord Ormund Hightower.

"Take the rest of the day to mourn, lad. And tomorrow? Kill the boy, only men can go to war."

Daeron nodded and left the study, rushing down the old steps of the tower. Frome one step at a time, he rapidly progressed to two, and sometimes three, rushing by others and often getting cursed because of it. He had taken his cousin's words to heart, and there was only one thing he now wished to confide in- his dragon, Tessarion. Others called her the Blue Queen, and stunning as she was, he couldn't blame them. Her lack in size was easily made up by her speed in the air, something that Daeron cherished everytime he rode her through the skies. She was often chained in a cordoned off area of the yard, though Daeron didn't like it. He eventually allowed it only to give others a peace of mind, but he knew that Tessarion would never hurt someone unless he allowed it, but trying to explain this to anyone else often proved to be fruitless. When he reached her, she was already awake and alert, waiting... as if she had known that he was coming. He embraced the dragon, but no tears flowed, he was past that. She nuzzled him, her scales warm at the touch.

Removing her chains, the prince and the dragon took to the skies.

The Dance of Dragons - (ASoI&F) (GoT) - [Openly Recruiting]

Boy these 15 year olds sure do look mature for their age. I guess bastards really do grow up faster.

EDIT: Oh darn apparently I have a page header post. Quick everyone go look at page 2 to get the joke!

@Sloth

If you can find me a better picture, I'll be happy to use it.

The Dance of Dragons - (ASoI&F) (GoT) - [Openly Recruiting]

Prince Daeron Targaryen

Daeron Targaryen

_{[ ⚔ ]House}

---

Targaryen (Greens)

_{[ ⚔ ]Reputation}

---

• Son to King Viserys Targaryen, and young brother to Aegon and Aemond
• Capable with a sword, though not as skilled as his brother Aemond
• Known to be one of the more talented dragon riders, though his skill hasn't been tested in war
• Popular among both highborn and smallfolk for his friendliness and generosity
• Also noted to be daring, clever, and handsome
• Fiercely loyal to his brothers
• Attracts many people to him, due to his amiable and charismatic personality
• Is honorable, humble, and sees value in keeping his word
• Currently a ward in Oldtown, serving as squire and cupbearer to Lord Ormund Hightower
• Would prefer a peaceful end, but is ready to fight if need be

_{[ ⚔ ]Appearance and Character}

---

Like his brothers, Daeron has the coloring of the blood of the dragon, allowing none to question whether or not he's a true Targaryen. Not only his he the youngest of Viserys' sons, he's also the smallest, standing a full head shorter than his brother Aemond, however, Daeron still may find himself surpassing Aemond in height if he manages a growth spurt in the next few years. Despite being thin, Daeron is far from sickly, as he's both nimble and quick, much more so than either one of his brothers. As such, he's very physically active, partaking in footraces, sparring with swords, horse riding, and above all else, soaring through the skies on his dragon Tessarion, in which nothing else can compare. A handsome, courteous, and clever boy, Daeron is often considered the most popular of the three sons of King Viserys I Targaryen and Queen Alicent Hightower. Likewise, he could also be described as being the most gentle, honorable, and daring among his brothers, though he has constantly been relegated to growing up in their shadow, and thus has become much more accustomed to receiving orders than giving them.

Daeron has dark violet eyes, like the dragonlords of old, and they can often appear to be black in certain lighting. His eyes can give off an air of determination and steadfast resoluteness that could potentially translate into tangible actions, should the boy ever cast off the overbearing personalities of his brothers and come into his own. Still, Daeron can be both gregarious and charming, enough that he never found it particularly difficult to surround himself with friends or to gain capable allies. He's no schemer and finds it difficult to be even slightly devious, as he was never one who was ever able to tell very believable lies, and often found it far more easier to be honest instead, even if it happened to weigh heavy on the listener. His face has striking, sharp features that complement his shoulder-length silver-gold hair that he inherited from his father, lending himself to be quite popular with girls, though this doesn't stop him from being nervous around most of them. The only females that he's truly comfortable around is that of his mother, sister, and dragon, and if you were to ask Daeron which of those he likes the best, it would probably be Tessarion, without a second thought.

Even if his personality clashes with that of his brothers, there's no question that he'll remain loyal to the both of them. He values the concept of keeping his word and being honest, whereas he does possess many great ambitions, none of them are related to ever sitting the Iron Throne. For better and for worse, he has grown up with them, and they are the brothers that he knows, as opposed to the half-sister who openly despises his existence, even if it's mostly due to the ongoing actions of other people. He held no inherent hatred for his cousins other than the rivalry that was instigated by others in the very beginning. However, actions on both sides inevitably led him to place actual distance between himself and his cousins, but he would still be satisfied by a peaceful conclusion in the end, given that his place in the line of succession allows him other interests beyond those associated with the Iron Throne itself. Such concerns may seem trivial and out of place for the boy that he is, but with war coming, it will certainly become an inescapable reality.

_{[ ⚔ ]History}

---

Late in 114 AC, Daeron was born the youngest son and child of King Viserys I Targaryen and his second wife, Queen Alicent Hightower. He was born shortly after his half-sister Rhaenyra's eldest son, Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, prompting the king to give the two babes to the same wet nurse in an attempt to prevent a similar enmity between the two boys that existed with both of their mothers. The king's hope would ultimately be in vain, as Daeron grew up as a bitter rival to Rhaenyra's children just like his older siblings, though it was less to do with his own personal disdain for his cousins, since he truly lacked any, and more a desire to emulate his brothers and others around him. While Daeron and his older siblings were forced to spend time with their cousins (i.e. attending the same feasts, and occasionally training at arms or studying with a maester together), it only proved to intensify the rivalry between them. In 120 AC, when Daeron was nearly six years of age, his brother-in-law, Ser Laenor Velaryon, died. Daeron accompanied his parents and siblings to Driftmark to attend the funeral. An altercation occurred between Prince Aemond and his cousins when he attempted to secretly tame Vhagar, ending with Aemond losing an eye to Prince Lucerys. Although Daeron hadn't been involved in the fight, he still remained an impressionable child, and the news of his brother losing an eye to his cousins only steeled himself against them, becoming a distance that he would continue to maintain to the present.

By the age of six, and shortly after the debacle at Driftmark, Daeron was given a dragon by his father, though truth be told, it would be some time before he worked up the courage to ride her. It would be the first time where he was able to work his way out of his shell and form an identity outside of being the youngest son of the king, and soon enough, he took to the skies with Tessarion. Others soon noted how strong of a bond that the two soon shared, and when they flew through the skies, nearly no one could ever hope to touch them, showing all the innate skill that Daeron possessed when it came to riding his dragon. Still, the inexperience was clearly there, especially when it came to warfare, in which neither dragon nor rider had any. It's doubtful such thoughts go through a young boy's head, with Daeron not having a care in the world whenever he flies over the Red Keep or beyond the waters of Blackwater Bay, far into the Narrow Sea. Being a dragon rider has given a boy of his age far more mobility than anyone can possibility imagine; a fact that he has fully taken advantage of. He relishes the idea of going to new places and the opportunity that has been given to him to see the world, and has been all over Westeros as a result. However, his father limited Daeron's riding to only within Westeros itself, if only for his own safety. Daeron could never fathom how he could ever be in any danger with Tessarion at his side, but if nothing else he's always been a dutiful boy, and he obeyed his father's wishes.

Beyond riding Tessarion, Daeron has inherently always been an adventurous lad, never being one to sit still and ending the day being so filthy that he was often unrecognizable. He's explored most of the Red Keep, all of its rooms, and even the hidden escape tunnels placed there by Maegor the Cruel himself, though he still has been unable to find them all. He was never against dragging other noble-born lads that were often paired with him on these adventures, forming the bonds of friendship that he's so good at. His amiability has led him to being considered the most popular of his brothers, which isn't much, given who he shares his blood with. His generosity and kindness has made him a favorite among many, along with his tendency to look for the good in people, which may make him far too trusting. He's found himself surrounded by people who are drawn to him for these very traits, and he even finds himself to be quite popular with the smallfolk, largely due to his friendliness and charisma.

As King Viserys' health began to decline, Daeron's mother and the supporters of his elder brother Aegon began to prepare for the inevitability of his death and the actions that would need to be taken in the moments after. So it was decided, when Daeron came to be 12 years of age, that he would serve as a cupbearer and squire to Lord Ormund Hightower, his mother Alicent's cousin, in Oldtown. It was clearly machinations made by Daeron's mother and grandfather, to send Daeron away to the relative safety of the Reach, far from the capital and potential fallout that would likely ensure. Of course, the hidden meanings of such a move was wasted on a 12 year old, and Daeron was more excited to just go to Oldtown and the Hightower, in which he had only been a few times before. He's worked on many skills that are expected of a boy of his highbirth while in Oldtown, with his skill with a blade is more than capable after training for years with his brothers and the royal master-at-arms, but still remains a far cry from his brother Aemond or uncle Daemon. The same is true when it comes to being on a horse, though Daeron would be the first to tell you that he'd be much more comfortable riding Tessarion instead. Beyond his official duties as squire and cupbearer, he's managed to enjoy all the trappings that exist within Oldtown, becoming truly drunk for the first time in his thirteenth year. Daeron is in his element when he's in Oldtown, with new places to explore, so many different sights to see, and countless new friends.

With his father's death in 129 AC, such frivolities of his youth are about to come to an end, as the storm of war is about to sweep over all of Westeros. It goes without saying that Daeron is fiercely loyal to his brothers, and will defend Aegon's right to the throne to the very end, even if a small part of him knows that it was his father who had wanted Rhaenyra to succeed him instead. He would prefer a peaceful resolution to this crisis if at all possible, but even Daeron knows, as gullible as he often is, that the old wounds that are reopening will never allow that to happen. In either case, Daeron remains prepared to bring peace to Westeros, if he can find a way to do so with minimal bloodshed.

_{[ ⚔ ]Family Tree}

---

Family Tree

The Dance of Dragons - (ASoI&F) (GoT) - [Openly Recruiting]

@EricRP

Here, have a thing:

Prince Daeron Targaryen

Daeron Targaryen

_{[ ⚔ ]House}

---

Targaryen (Greens)

_{[ ⚔ ]Reputation}

---

• Son to King Viserys Targaryen, and young brother to Aegon and Aemond
• Capable with a sword, though not as skilled as his brother Aemond
• Known to be one of the more talented dragon riders, though his skill hasn't been tested in war
• Popular among both highborn and smallfolk for his friendliness and generosity
• Also noted to be daring, clever, and handsome
• Fiercely loyal to his brothers
• Attracts many people to him, due to his amiable and charismatic personality
• Is honorable, humble, and sees value in keeping his word
• Currently a ward in Oldtown, serving as squire and cupbearer to Lord Ormund Hightower
• Would prefer a peaceful end, but is ready to fight if need be

_{[ ⚔ ]Appearance and Character}

---

Like his brothers, Daeron has the coloring of the blood of the dragon, allowing none to question whether or not he's a true Targaryen. Not only his he the youngest of Viserys' sons, he's also the smallest, standing a full head shorter than his brother Aemond, however, Daeron still may find himself surpassing Aemond in height if he manages a growth spurt in the next few years. Despite being thin, Daeron is far from sickly, as he's both nimble and quick, much more so than either one of his brothers. As such, he's very physically active, partaking in footraces, sparring with swords, horse riding, and above all else, soaring through the skies on his dragon Tessarion, in which nothing else can compare. A handsome, courteous, and clever boy, Daeron is often considered the most popular of the three sons of King Viserys I Targaryen and Queen Alicent Hightower. Likewise, he could also be described as being the most gentle, honorable, and daring among his brothers, though he has constantly been relegated to growing up in their shadow, and thus has become much more accustomed to receiving orders than giving them.

Daeron has dark violet eyes, like the dragonlords of old, and they can often appear to be black in certain lighting. His eyes can give off an air of determination and steadfast resoluteness that could potentially translate into tangible actions, should the boy ever cast off the overbearing personalities of his brothers and come into his own. Still, Daeron can be both gregarious and charming, enough that he never found it particularly difficult to surround himself with friends or to gain capable allies. He's no schemer and finds it difficult to be even slightly devious, as he was never one who was ever able to tell very believable lies, and often found it far more easier to be honest instead, even if it happened to weigh heavy on the listener. His face has striking, sharp features that complement his shoulder-length silver-gold hair that he inherited from his father, lending himself to be quite popular with girls, though this doesn't stop him from being nervous around most of them. The only females that he's truly comfortable around is that of his mother, sister, and dragon, and if you were to ask Daeron which of those he likes the best, it would probably be Tessarion, without a second thought.

Even if his personality clashes with that of his brothers, there's no question that he'll remain loyal to the both of them. He values the concept of keeping his word and being honest, whereas he does possess many great ambitions, none of them are related to ever sitting the Iron Throne. For better and for worse, he has grown up with them, and they are the brothers that he knows, as opposed to the half-sister who openly despises his existence, even if it's mostly due to the ongoing actions of other people. He held no inherent hatred for his cousins other than the rivalry that was instigated by others in the very beginning. However, actions on both sides inevitably led him to place actual distance between himself and his cousins, but he would still be satisfied by a peaceful conclusion in the end, given that his place in the line of succession allows him other interests beyond those associated with the Iron Throne itself. Such concerns may seem trivial and out of place for the boy that he is, but with war coming, it will certainly become an inescapable reality.

_{[ ⚔ ]History}

---

Late in 114 AC, Daeron was born the youngest son and child of King Viserys I Targaryen and his second wife, Queen Alicent Hightower. He was born shortly after his half-sister Rhaenyra's eldest son, Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, prompting the king to give the two babes to the same wet nurse in an attempt to prevent a similar enmity between the two boys that existed with both of their mothers. The king's hope would ultimately be in vain, as Daeron grew up as a bitter rival to Rhaenyra's children just like his older siblings, though it was less to do with his own personal disdain for his cousins, since he truly lacked any, and more a desire to emulate his brothers and others around him. While Daeron and his older siblings were forced to spend time with their cousins (i.e. attending the same feasts, and occasionally training at arms or studying with a maester together), it only proved to intensify the rivalry between them. In 120 AC, when Daeron was nearly six years of age, his brother-in-law, Ser Laenor Velaryon, died. Daeron accompanied his parents and siblings to Driftmark to attend the funeral. An altercation occurred between Prince Aemond and his cousins when he attempted to secretly tame Vhagar, ending with Aemond losing an eye to Prince Lucerys. Although Daeron hadn't been involved in the fight, he still remained an impressionable child, and the news of his brother losing an eye to his cousins only steeled himself against them, becoming a distance that he would continue to maintain to the present.

By the age of six, and shortly after the debacle at Driftmark, Daeron was given a dragon by his father, though truth be told, it would be some time before he worked up the courage to ride her. It would be the first time where he was able to work his way out of his shell and form an identity outside of being the youngest son of the king, and soon enough, he took to the skies with Tessarion. Others soon noted how strong of a bond that the two soon shared, and when they flew through the skies, nearly no one could ever hope to touch them, showing all the innate skill that Daeron possessed when it came to riding his dragon. Still, the inexperience was clearly there, especially when it came to warfare, in which neither dragon nor rider had any. It's doubtful such thoughts go through a young boy's head, with Daeron not having a care in the world whenever he flies over the Red Keep or beyond the waters of Blackwater Bay, far into the Narrow Sea. Being a dragon rider has given a boy of his age far more mobility than anyone can possibility imagine; a fact that he has fully taken advantage of. He relishes the idea of going to new places and the opportunity that has been given to him to see the world, and has been all over Westeros as a result. However, his father limited Daeron's riding to only within Westeros itself, if only for his own safety. Daeron could never fathom how he could ever be in any danger with Tessarion at his side, but if nothing else he's always been a dutiful boy, and he obeyed his father's wishes.

Beyond riding Tessarion, Daeron has inherently always been an adventurous lad, never being one to sit still and ending the day being so filthy that he was often unrecognizable. He's explored most of the Red Keep, all of its rooms, and even the hidden escape tunnels placed there by Maegor the Cruel himself, though he still has been unable to find them all. He was never against dragging other noble-born lads that were often paired with him on these adventures, forming the bonds of friendship that he's so good at. His amiability has led him to being considered the most popular of his brothers, which isn't much, given who he shares his blood with. His generosity and kindness has made him a favorite among many, along with his tendency to look for the good in people, which may make him far too trusting. He's found himself surrounded by people who are drawn to him for these very traits, and he even finds himself to be quite popular with the smallfolk, largely due to his friendliness and charisma.

As King Viserys' health began to decline, Daeron's mother and the supporters of his elder brother Aegon began to prepare for the inevitability of his death and the actions that would need to be taken in the moments after. So it was decided, when Daeron came to be 12 years of age, that he would serve as a cupbearer and squire to Lord Ormund Hightower, his mother Alicent's cousin, in Oldtown. It was clearly machinations made by Daeron's mother and grandfather, to send Daeron away to the relative safety of the Reach, far from the capital and potential fallout that would likely ensure. Of course, the hidden meanings of such a move was wasted on a 12 year old, and Daeron was more excited to just go to Oldtown and the Hightower, in which he had only been a few times before. He's worked on many skills that are expected of a boy of his highbirth while in Oldtown, with his skill with a blade is more than capable after training for years with his brothers and the royal master-at-arms, but still remains a far cry from his brother Aemond or uncle Daemon. The same is true when it comes to being on a horse, though Daeron would be the first to tell you that he'd be much more comfortable riding Tessarion instead. Beyond his official duties as squire and cupbearer, he's managed to enjoy all the trappings that exist within Oldtown, becoming truly drunk for the first time in his thirteenth year. Daeron is in his element when he's in Oldtown, with new places to explore, so many different sights to see, and countless new friends.

With his father's death in 129 AC, such frivolities of his youth are about to come to an end, as the storm of war is about to sweep over all of Westeros. It goes without saying that Daeron is fiercely loyal to his brothers, and will defend Aegon's right to the throne to the very end, even if a small part of him knows that it was his father who had wanted Rhaenyra to succeed him instead. He would prefer a peaceful resolution to this crisis if at all possible, but even Daeron knows, as gullible as he often is, that the old wounds that are reopening will never allow that to happen. In either case, Daeron remains prepared to bring peace to Westeros, if he can find a way to do so with minimal bloodshed.

_{[ ⚔ ]Family Tree}

---

Family Tree

ethanjory - Character Repository

Prince Daeron Targaryen

Daeron Targaryen

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Targaryen (Greens)

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• Son to King Viserys Targaryen, and young brother to Aegon and Aemond
• Capable with a sword, though not as skilled as his brother Aemond
• Known to be one of the more talented dragon riders, though his skill hasn't been tested in war
• Popular among both highborn and smallfolk for his friendliness and generosity
• Also noted to be daring, clever, and handsome
• Fiercely loyal to his brothers
• Attracts many people to him, due to his amiable and charismatic personality
• Is honorable, humble, and sees value in keeping his word
• Currently a ward in Oldtown, serving as squire and cupbearer to Lord Ormund Hightower
• Would prefer a peaceful end, but is ready to fight if need be

_{[ ⚔ ]Appearance and Character}

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Like his brothers, Daeron has the coloring of the blood of the dragon, allowing none to question whether or not he's a true Targaryen. Not only his he the youngest of Viserys' sons, he's also the smallest, standing a full head shorter than his brother Aemond, however, Daeron still may find himself surpassing Aemond in height if he manages a growth spurt in the next few years. Despite being thin, Daeron is far from sickly, as he's both nimble and quick, much more so than either one of his brothers. As such, he's very physically active, partaking in footraces, sparring with swords, horse riding, and above all else, soaring through the skies on his dragon Tessarion, in which nothing else can compare. A handsome, courteous, and clever boy, Daeron is often considered the most popular of the three sons of King Viserys I Targaryen and Queen Alicent Hightower. Likewise, he could also be described as being the most gentle, honorable, and daring among his brothers, though he has constantly been relegated to growing up in their shadow, and thus has become much more accustomed to receiving orders than giving them.

Daeron has dark violet eyes, like the dragonlords of old, and they can often appear to be black in certain lighting. His eyes can give off an air of determination and steadfast resoluteness that could potentially translate into tangible actions, should the boy ever cast off the overbearing personalities of his brothers and come into his own. Still, Daeron can be both gregarious and charming, enough that he never found it particularly difficult to surround himself with friends or to gain capable allies. He's no schemer and finds it difficult to be even slightly devious, as he was never one who was ever able to tell very believable lies, and often found it far more easier to be honest instead, even if it happened to weigh heavy on the listener. His face has striking, sharp features that complement his shoulder-length silver-gold hair that he inherited from his father, lending himself to be quite popular with girls, though this doesn't stop him from being nervous around most of them. The only females that he's truly comfortable around is that of his mother, sister, and dragon, and if you were to ask Daeron which of those he likes the best, it would probably be Tessarion, without a second thought.

Even if his personality clashes with that of his brothers, there's no question that he'll remain loyal to the both of them. He values the concept of keeping his word and being honest, whereas he does possess many great ambitions, none of them are related to ever sitting the Iron Throne. For better and for worse, he has grown up with them, and they are the brothers that he knows, as opposed to the half-sister who openly despises his existence, even if it's mostly due to the ongoing actions of other people. He held no inherent hatred for his cousins other than the rivalry that was instigated by others in the very beginning. However, actions on both sides inevitably led him to place actual distance between himself and his cousins, but he would still be satisfied by a peaceful conclusion in the end, given that his place in the line of succession allows him other interests beyond those associated with the Iron Throne itself. Such concerns may seem trivial and out of place for the boy that he is, but with war coming, it will certainly become an inescapable reality.

_{[ ⚔ ]History}

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Late in 114 AC, Daeron was born the youngest son and child of King Viserys I Targaryen and his second wife, Queen Alicent Hightower. He was born shortly after his half-sister Rhaenyra's eldest son, Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, prompting the king to give the two babes to the same wet nurse in an attempt to prevent a similar enmity between the two boys that existed with both of their mothers. The king's hope would ultimately be in vain, as Daeron grew up as a bitter rival to Rhaenyra's children just like his older siblings, though it was less to do with his own personal disdain for his cousins, since he truly lacked any, and more a desire to emulate his brothers and others around him. While Daeron and his older siblings were forced to spend time with their cousins (i.e. attending the same feasts, and occasionally training at arms or studying with a maester together), it only proved to intensify the rivalry between them. In 120 AC, when Daeron was nearly six years of age, his brother-in-law, Ser Laenor Velaryon, died. Daeron accompanied his parents and siblings to Driftmark to attend the funeral. An altercation occurred between Prince Aemond and his cousins when he attempted to secretly tame Vhagar, ending with Aemond losing an eye to Prince Lucerys. Although Daeron hadn't been involved in the fight, he still remained an impressionable child, and the news of his brother losing an eye to his cousins only steeled himself against them, becoming a distance that he would continue to maintain to the present.

By the age of six, and shortly after the debacle at Driftmark, Daeron was given a dragon by his father, though truth be told, it would be some time before he worked up the courage to ride her. It would be the first time where he was able to work his way out of his shell and form an identity outside of being the youngest son of the king, and soon enough, he took to the skies with Tessarion. Others soon noted how strong of a bond that the two soon shared, and when they flew through the skies, nearly no one could ever hope to touch them, showing all the innate skill that Daeron possessed when it came to riding his dragon. Still, the inexperience was clearly there, especially when it came to warfare, in which neither dragon nor rider had any. It's doubtful such thoughts go through a young boy's head, with Daeron not having a care in the world whenever he flies over the Red Keep or beyond the waters of Blackwater Bay, far into the Narrow Sea. Being a dragon rider has given a boy of his age far more mobility than anyone can possibility imagine; a fact that he has fully taken advantage of. He relishes the idea of going to new places and the opportunity that has been given to him to see the world, and has been all over Westeros as a result. However, his father limited Daeron's riding to only within Westeros itself, if only for his own safety. Daeron could never fathom how he could ever be in any danger with Tessarion at his side, but if nothing else he's always been a dutiful boy, and he obeyed his father's wishes.

Beyond riding Tessarion, Daeron has inherently always been an adventurous lad, never being one to sit still and ending the day being so filthy that he was often unrecognizable. He's explored most of the Red Keep, all of its rooms, and even the hidden escape tunnels placed there by Maegor the Cruel himself, though he still has been unable to find them all. He was never against dragging other noble-born lads that were often paired with him on these adventures, forming the bonds of friendship that he's so good at. His amiability has led him to being considered the most popular of his brothers, which isn't much, given who he shares his blood with. His generosity and kindness has made him a favorite among many, along with his tendency to look for the good in people, which may make him far too trusting. He's found himself surrounded by people who are drawn to him for these very traits, and he even finds himself to be quite popular with the smallfolk, largely due to his friendliness and charisma.

As King Viserys' health began to decline, Daeron's mother and the supporters of his elder brother Aegon began to prepare for the inevitability of his death and the actions that would need to be taken in the moments after. So it was decided, when Daeron came to be 12 years of age, that he would serve as a cupbearer and squire to Lord Ormund Hightower, his mother Alicent's cousin, in Oldtown. It was clearly machinations made by Daeron's mother and grandfather, to send Daeron away to the relative safety of the Reach, far from the capital and potential fallout that would likely ensure. Of course, the hidden meanings of such a move was wasted on a 12 year old, and Daeron was more excited to just go to Oldtown and the Hightower, in which he had only been a few times before. He's worked on many skills that are expected of a boy of his highbirth while in Oldtown, with his skill with a blade is more than capable after training for years with his brothers and the royal master-at-arms, but still remains a far cry from his brother Aemond or uncle Daemon. The same is true when it comes to being on a horse, though Daeron would be the first to tell you that he'd be much more comfortable riding Tessarion instead. Beyond his official duties as squire and cupbearer, he's managed to enjoy all the trappings that exist within Oldtown, becoming truly drunk for the first time in his thirteenth year. Daeron is in his element when he's in Oldtown, with new places to explore, so many different sights to see, and countless new friends.

With his father's death in 129 AC, such frivolities of his youth are about to come to an end, as the storm of war is about to sweep over all of Westeros. It goes without saying that Daeron is fiercely loyal to his brothers, and will defend Aegon's right to the throne to the very end, even if a small part of him knows that it was his father who had wanted Rhaenyra to succeed him instead. He would prefer a peaceful resolution to this crisis if at all possible, but even Daeron knows, as gullible as he often is, that the old wounds that are reopening will never allow that to happen. In either case, Daeron remains prepared to bring peace to Westeros, if he can find a way to do so with minimal bloodshed.

_{[ ⚔ ]Family Tree}

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Family Tree

The Dance of Dragons - (ASoI&F) (GoT) - Interest Check/Placeholder

More specifically, I'm looking to play as Prince Daeron. It's been awhile since I've played a character who's a decent human being.

The Dance of Dragons - (ASoI&F) (GoT) - Interest Check/Placeholder

Any restrictions on playing dragonriders? I may have interest in playing as a Targaryen.

ethanjory - Character Repository

Six

Age:>

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Unknown. It has been at least a year and a half since Six “awoke” in the Lower District, and subsequently left for the Deep Urban. For how long he had existed before then is unclear.

Gender:>

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Six was designed in the visage of a 12 year-old boy, and for most intensive purposes, he is the mental, physical, and emotional equivalent of a boy of that age as well.

Nationality:>

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Highly-advanced android built to resemble a caucasian male. Six is fully aware of what he is, and somehow knows that there are no others that are the same as him. If there were, then he’d be more than happy to meet and befriend them.

Occupation:>

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His functions before he awoke in the Lower District is entirely unknown to Six, as is almost all other memories of that time. However, he knows things that he has no right to know, such as an innate ability to repurpose tech, extreme familiarity with Paradiso itself, and an overwhelming sense of dread that compels him to stay away from other people. If anything, it seems to be features left over on purpose from whomever had “released” him.

Place of Residence:>

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Six lives in a storm shelter that he reclaimed after his exodus from the Lower District. It lies in an old suburbia on the very edge of Paradiso, long ago abandoned by the people who had once considered it home. Six has since made it his home, and though it isn’t exactly spacious, it suits him just fine. He’s scrounged and scavenged through many of the other empty houses, and brought much of the interesting things back to the shelter. This includes old televisions that he’s tinkered with to bring back to working order, video game consoles that are played with archaic controllers, and other various hardware that hasn’t been seen in Paradiso proper in countless years. It more or less looks like a tiny workshop with tools, parts and bits scattered here and there, without much of any organization. There are also plenty of comic books lying around, rummaged by Six from dozens of children’s rooms. The very idea of a superhero has always been very appealing to Six, and he’s spent a considerable amount of time imagining what it would be like to fight against evil and protect those who are defenseless. It was this very concept that made him venture forth away from the home that he had made for himself into Paradiso itself. He’s come to the conclusion that if he can’t help himself then he’d only end up unknowingly harming innocent people, and he wasn’t about to let himself become the villain, by intention or not.

Now, Six doesn’t really have a home, only the clothes on his back and the items that he can carry with him. He’s leaving behind everything that he actually knows, and there are very few who would fully appreciate how significant that is for someone who can remember so little of his own past. Once he has finished fixing whatever is wrong with himself, there’s a part of him that wants to return to the storm shelter on the edge of the world. On the other hand, there’s also an equal part of him who wants to find a new place to live, only this time surrounded by people who he can proudly call friends. And that is probably Six’s ultimate intention, to never be alone again and to find a place where he can truly belong.

Cybernetics:>

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Six is an android, so every part of him is synthetically made. However, even he isn’t sure what he is entirely sure what his limits are, no more than an average human would have any idea how their organs truly function. He possesses extremely advanced pain receptors, giving him a true sense of being in the world that he now inhabits. Bright lights make him wince, if he runs for a long period of time then he’ll become exhausted, nanotechnology that has been intricately woven into his systems can even mend minor wounds over a lengthy period of time, and enough pain can even potentially debilitate him. Whoever designed him did so with the intention to make him as human as possible, and for that, Six is more than grateful. Knowing that someone cared enough to offer him the opportunity to experience the many wonders of the world fills him with a certain reassurance that he would have otherwise lacked. Even so, Six stands superior when compared to a baseline human boy in most regards, including perception, reflexes, and durability. However, Six’s true potential is probably largely unknown, as evidenced by the events surrounding him when he first became aware and the periods of time where he isn’t sure where he has been or what he has done. At the present moment, it’s likely impossible to truly know what he is capable of.

Biography:>

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A ghost in the machine; memories of a life that never was, drowning in a swirling dream of broken images and obscured shadows. Whenever Six closes his eyes, his thoughts flash before him so fast that he can barely make them out, but a few stop for just long enough that he can make them out. One is that of an older man, gray in his hair, with a kindly smile. Six always sees him wearing a long coat made of white, surrounded by bright flashing lights and computers. Those details… they never mattered much to Six, for whenever the man appears in his mind’s eye, for whatever reason, Six feels safe. The man would often speak to him, the words always too muffled to hear, yet Six believes that it must be like a father talking to his son. The other is that of a young girl that looks similar to him, only that she is actually a human. He can recall being very close to her, playing games and having fun, but her name is unknown to him, just the same as the kindly man. Many of his memories remain fragmented like that, and it’s totally unclear if they are real or not. Six keeps them repressed when he can, steering away from the overbearing confusion and pushing onward to face the current struggles that he must now face against.

When he became aware for the first time, it was in an unknown location, dark and so different from all the broken memories that he was able to call back upon. Six was on top of a man, knees on their chest, and the first things that Six noticed was the man’s bluish lips, eyes bulging out, with his hands wrapped around the man’s throat. The room was a mess. Stolen computers and hardware, as well as black market cybernetics, all destroyed or in disrepair, clearly the signs of a major struggle. There was blood splattered on the walls as Six found other bodies that had suffered far grislier fates than the man that now laid before him, and Six had absolutely no recollection of it. Why he was there, why so many people were dead… and whether or not it was all by his hand, Six truly had no idea. He’d never wish harm against anyone else, or he thought as much. He was sure of nothing, and with a thousand other thoughts racing through his head, Six didn’t know what else to do other than to run, and so he did, never looking back.

Just as he couldn’t remember things that he should have, he also knew things that he shouldn’t have. He was already aware of the potential danger that he’d likely be in if seen, and while he was confused when it came to the situation that he now found himself in, he had an existing knowledge of how to survive and what exactly he had to do next. He strangely knew the streets of Paradiso like the back of his hand, even though he shouldn’t have, and he knew which backstreets and alleyways to take to avoid attention, all with one destination in mind- the Deep Urban. It was an overbearing feeling to get to safety under any circumstances possible, and Six didn’t have it think about it at all. It was all oddly instinctual.

As he found himself wandering the streets of the Deep Urban, Six learned that the hooded sweatshirt that he had gained a hold of was enough to conceal his identity, especially when those lived there were far more concerned with disease, death, and poverty to pay a stranger any mind. Even so, Six desperately wanted to help the people that he past, but he knew that there was nothing that he could do for them; an invisible hand urged him along into safety, away from anything that could possibly do him harm. Finally, he came upon the very fringes, a collection of husks that were the remnants of what once was called suburbia, visible relics of a bygone age. After walking among these abandoned houses, Six eventually came upon a communal storm shelter, where it once gave the people who had once lived there safety and protection. It would now offer him the isolation that he strangely desired, and so he chose it as his home on the very edge of the world.

It proved to be a lonely existence, and Six would have wished for nothing more than to have friends to share his experiences with, but the feeling that had led him to his isolation managed to persevere and he stayed where he was. Six eventually explored many of the houses that were still standing and founded a variety of different things that filled the void that was created from living all alone. Action figures, comic books, video games, and other antiques filled Six with a sense of wonder and awe. Even though Six found great enjoyment out of these relics as he filled the storm shelter with them, it still didn’t completely cure his sense of loneliness, but he was grateful that live in peace. However, that peace wasn’t long to last.

It began suddenly and without any warning. Stretches of time passing that Six couldn’t account for… things that he couldn’t remember. He’d close his eyes for one second and the next he’d find himself in a place where he had never been to before, several days passing without any recollection of what had happened in between. He knew that he must have been remotely hacked, or there was something sinister within him, lying in wait to take control of his body at a moment’s notice. Either possibility was unsettling for Six who eschewed violence in any form, ever since the day that he had awoken in the Lower District. He didn’t want what had happened there to ever take place again. Six still balked at the idea of leaving his new home behind- he was afraid and scared, yet he knew he had to work his way past such feelings. Just the notion that he could be potentially hurting more people without even knowing of it was just too much for him to bear. So he gathered what few belongings that he had procured for himself, and took off towards the Lower District, with every intent to stop whatever is happening to him.

ethanjory - Character Repository

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