Chapter Text
97 A.C — Runestone
The child in his arms was fast asleep and only two days of age.
A boy.
At least the Bronze Bitch had given him that much. Daemon thought it a mistake at first, when he got so drunk he managed to spill his seed on that woman’s hostile cunt. And his seed took root in her womb and bloomed into a child. A boy. His son.
A boy of pale golden hair and dark purple eyes. A boy who thankfully resembled him and his House rather than the inconsequential House of the Bronze Bitch. He was a robust boy, strong and healthy, according to the maester in that shithole.
“I do not have an egg for you yet, but I shall get one” he whispered to the sleeping babe’s ear.
His grandfather would have to give him a dragon egg for his son, after all, his niece had gotten one. And both of Rhaenys’ children had as well, despite being Velaryons by birth and name. Daemon would get one for his son, he was owed as much.
“Give me Robar back, Daemon!” the Bronze Bitch barked from her place at the bed, pale and weakened.
She had yet to regain her full strength to go hunting and leave him alone for a while. In a few days he would take his son flying on Caraxes’ back and in a moon he would leave that place to settle in the Red Keep, which was where Targaryens were meant to be. And his son was a Targaryen, whose name was not Robar.
“His name is Rhaegar” he corrected with no few spite in his voice “Rhaegar Targaryen”
“He is my heir!” Rhea Royce barked again, straining with anger “He is the heir to Runestone!”
He shall have more than this shithole; Daemon decided; He is a dragon.
Over the past moon turn he had received many a letter from most members of his family. Letters congratulating him on the birth of his son. His father, his grandparents, cousin Aemma and cousin Rhaenys, as well as Viserys, all were so happy for the birth of a son to House Targaryen. Yet none mentioned anything about a dragon egg for his Rhaegar. And so, when a moon turn had gone by, Daemon saddled Caraxes, strapped his son to his chest and flew to King’s Landing.
Rhaegar laughed or slept the whole way to the city, which was yet another proof of how thin the Royce blood ran through his veins. He was a Targaryen through and through.
The courtiers clapped and cooed and watched his son with wonder as if he was something ancient and precious. And mayhaps he was, for it had been sixteen years since a healthy son had been born to House Targaryen.
All but his grandfather, who was old and bitter and sat upon the Iron Throne with quite some difficulty.
“Daemon” he greeted dryly.
“Grandfather” he regarded him with the same coldness.
That man had given him Dark Sister, but that was all he had ever given Daemon. Viserys had always been so clearly his most favored grandchild, while Rhaenys’ was his grandmother’s favourite. For years he had wondered where did that left him and Aemma, now he knew where. In the cold.
“You oughtn’t have brought him here on dragonback, he is yet too young to fly” his grandmother chastised, approaching him with her cane.
Daemon rolled his eyes, but said nothing.
“He is so beautiful, cousin!” Gael gushed over him at a prudent distance, as if Rhaegar was about to spit fire.
“He is” Queen Alysanne nodded, but there was more coldness than fondness in her gaze “He looks much like you, Daemon. Though you were a smaller babe”
“Where is my father?”
“In the Reach, visiting the Lord of the Hightower” the King announced.
There was no need to ask where Viserys was, after all, he had been allowed to stay at Dragonstone. Daemon had not.
“You ought to be with your lady wife. The boy is too young to be apart from his mother”
“He needs nought from the Bronze Bitch, the wetnurses tend to his needs and hunger and I to all the rest. She is not needed”
His grandmother huffed, growing red with anger.
“She is your wife, Daemon, you must show her respect!” Queen Alysanne accentuated her words with a tap of her cane against the stone floor.
“I would have done so” he nodded “had I chosen her. But as I was dragged to the altar by guards and the words did not come from my mouth, nor did I cloak her, I shall not. If you are insulted in her stead, you have no one but yourself to blame for that, grandmother”
“Daemon!” his grandfather shouted, but did not move from his throne. Gael trembled frightened, placing herself closer to her mother “How dare you speak to the Queen in such a way? Apologize in this very second!”
“I shall never apologize for speaking the truth”
The King sighed as if weary of everything.
“What is your business here?” he questioned.
“I wish for a dragon egg for my son”
“No” the negative came with such an ease and coldness, that Daemon could not help but to feel it himself “I shall not give a dragon to another House”
“What of House Velaryon?”
As it stood, Corlys Velaryon possessed two dragons, one grown and another a hatchling. Daemon had Caraxes, his father Vaghar and Rhaenyra a hatchling. Vermithor and Silverwing were no longer ridden, for their riders were too old to fly now. They were matched, he supposed, the two last valyrian houses. For Daemon would not stand by his House’s side at that moment. If Rhaenys wished to have the throne, she might as well try to take it now.
The King’s gaze went to his Queen, for they both knew who was to blame in that regard.
“That is a matter of mine, not yours, boy. Now, you have your answer, go back to the Vale, to your lady wife”
There was no arguing with them. Daemon knew, even if he had hoped otherwise. But now the hope had burned away by the fire in his veins.
It mattered not, his boy will have a dragon one day.