"I don't know who, but someone from the Targaryen camps has shot me."

"Get Ser Quentyn inside now!" Daemon roar, pointing at a random soldier "You, get the medic for Ser Quentyn, now! Everyone else, be on guard in case they decide on launching another such attack!"

Inside the tent, Daemon continied to speak to the man he saw as his mentor, worry etched onto his face. "Ser Quentyn, are you alright? You're going to be ok, right? Did it hit anything important?"

These two were in fact a set of twins, Aegon and Aemon, the eldest sons of Daemon Blackfyre. As they were now 2-and-10 (the same as their father when he was recognised by his father), they had been allowed to come of this campaign, what was hoped to be the final campaign before securing the crown. It was hoped they would learn to follow in the footsteps of their glorious father.

The blood began to pour from the eye socket, replacing what was once his left eye. The one that took his eye, none other that his most hated enemy, Aegor Rivers.