Familiarity ||| Jacaerys Velaryon

two

Caraxes hadn't graced the castle of Runestone in four years. He hardly fit; the Blood Wyrm was out of place in the Vale. Terrorizing the cattle of farmers for a meal.

Daemon had changed since he'd been last. He'd cut his hair short after the victory in the Stepstones, the shortest he'd ever had it. Many in Runestone hardly recognized him, never thought they'd see him inside again.

And even though he'd hardly lived in that castle, he knew the layout. He knew where he was going, what he was trying to find.

Her chambers. She hadn't been anywhere else, wasn't in any of the other places he'd checked. So either she was in her room or out riding. Daemon didn't care, he was only there for one purpose.

Without knocking, without any care, Daemon pushed inside the rooms. It was clean like she always kept it. That had annoyed him. Everything about Rhea annoyed him.

He scanned the rooms and looked for any sign of her. Daemon could smell the oils and fragrances from her desk like they'd been applied recently. The only thing out of place was a drawer of her wardrobe.

Rhea wasn't in her rooms. Which meant she was probably out riding that fucking horse. Daemon growled and closed his eyes, grabbing onto the wooden bedpost. He was there for one thing. Why was she making it so fucking hard?

And then he felt a presence. Small and soft wrapping around his leg. Daemon tensed the moment he felt it, turning his head to look down at what was attached to him.

A little girl that giggled as soon as he looked at her.

His daughter. Daemon knew that as soon as he looked at her, met her eyes. That was his daughter staring back at him.

He was suddenly struck by her likeness. Her likeness to a face he could hardly remember. But it was vivid in his mind when he looked at that girl.

Her silver-blonde hair, more the latter colour. And her eyes. That's most of what Daemon remembered of his mother; her kind but fierce blue and green eyes. And there they were, staring back at him.

Rhea kept this from him. His daughter, this girl that was so obviously his. Daemon didn't even know what her name was. She didn't know him, didn't know of her history and her place as a Targaryen. Wearing an ugly bronze dress, colours of House Royce.

Daemon bent down automatically and picked the little girl up. He could not deny to himself the immediate swell of his heart. He'd always wanted children, wanted a massive family.

Not with her. Not with Rhea. Afraid those children would look and remind him of her. But that little girl in his arms, she was his.

She brought her hands forward, reaching and grasping for the silver hair on Daemon's head. "Like mine," she said, her voice high and sweet, that little toddler accent hanging off each word.

He smiled at her and took one of her hands, pressing it to his lips. "Like yours," Daemon repeated, watching as her little eyes lit up. "What's your name?"

The little girl took a big breath, she'd been working on that one. "Alyssa," she said proudly, remembering all the times she'd repeated it to herself.

Rhea had done one thing correctly, at least. Naming Alyssa after Daemon's mother. Because if she'd named her something that wasn't Valyrian, he would have changed her name. No matter her age.