Burn for You { Aemond Targaryen }

ONE

CHAPTER ONE
THE DRAGON'S HEART

WHEN THE WORLD learned of Rhea Royce's only daughter, not one was more surprised than Daemon Targaryen.

Daemon was adamant that the child was not his—that it could not be his. He had only laid with Rhea once, nearly two years before, when the King had demanded his marriage consummated. Yet, when the young child arrived in Kings Landing, just weeks after the unfortunate death of her mother, there was no question on her lineage. Unnamed at the time, even almost a year into her life, it was clear from her silver hair and startling lavender blue eyes that she was a Targaryen—born from the forced consummation of Daemon and Rhea's marriage.

As Daemon looked down at the small child in his arms, faced with the undeniable truth of her parentage, he couldn't help the uncontrollable rage that washed over him. This was his daughter—his blood—and she had come to the capital with no name and dressed in scraps.

It was a disgrace to his family name, which he knew in his heart was Rhea's intentions. She had hated Daemon as much as he hated her, and he could only imagine the anger she felt when she birthed a child that resembled him so strongly.

With a gentleness Viserys had never seen before in him, Daemon brushed his thumb across the small girls cheek as the anger on his face slowly melted away and a ghost of smile overtook his lips. He hummed, glancing up at his brother, the only person to witness the first meeting of the father and daughter.

"Daenerys," Daemon muttered, his eyes falling back to his daughter's face. She looked up at him, a mischievous gleam in her eyes as her lips quirked up and she giggled. Yes, this was his daughter indeed.

———

As the years passed, Daenerys grew to be a gentle girl—much gentler than one would think the offspring of Daemon Targaryen could be. Unlike her younger half-sisters, Rhaena and Baela, who were rather fierce and headstrong even at their young age, Daenerys was rather timid and reserved. She spent her days reading whatever books she could get her little hands on, or gathering different rocks and shells that caught her interest, and most often kept to herself. Many would say that the girl lived with her head in the clouds, almost always lost in her own thoughts.

Daemon never minded the gentle ways of his first-born daughter. She didn't have to be anything other than herself, not when she had him to protect her—and she always would. Daenerys would never know the pain of the worlds expectations, not in the way Daemon did. She would never be forced to marry one she does not love, never be forced to be something she was not, never be caged by others wants.

Unfortunately, Daemon could not protect his daughter from everything. Most certainly not the pain of losing one she loved.

The death of Leana Velaryon, his second wife, was not something Daemon had foreseen. Not something he had accounted for in his careful efforts to shield Daenerys, nor his other daughters, of pain.

Leana had filled a void in Daenerys life that Daemon could not fill himself. She taught her things that only a woman could, gave her love that only a mother could, and provided her comfort in a way that only Leana could. The Velaryon-born woman had taken Daenerys in as one of her own without ever being asked to, and Daenerys had claimed her as her own, as well.

"She won't be coming back, will she, Kepa?" Daenerys asked quietly, shoulders slouched as she sat on the edge of her bed. She fiddled with her fingers, looking curiously at her father who was knelt before her.

Daemon, who had yet to break the grim news to his other two daughters, tried his best to keep his face void of any emotion as his eldest daughter's words cut him deeply. He didn't know how to do this—how to tell his daughters that their mother was gone.

"No...no, she won't be coming back, issa byka zaldrīzes," Daemon said, resting his hand over his daughter's knee as he helplessly watched tears brim in her eyes. Daenerys understood what he was saying—understood the finality of death—even though he had tried his best to shield her from it.

A quiet whimper left her before she moved, throwing herself into her father's embrace. Through tears, she muttered, "I am sorry, Kepa."

Unable to find his voice, Daemon tightened his hold on his daughter, a tear escaping down his cheek.

Translations:
issa byka zaldrīzes means my little dragon