Daemon could not help but stare at his supposed daughter throughout the funeral.
Officially, Daenerys Velaryon was the daughter of Laenor Velaryon and Rhaenyra Targaryen, and yet the girl had taken all Targaryen features and beared none of the Velaryon dark skin nor white hair. Her hair was more a very light shade of blonde that seemed to reflect the sun's rays, and her skin was as pale as milk. Paired with eyes an arresting shade of lilac, it was safe to say that her title as 'The Most Beautiful Girl in the World' was well earned. But it didn't take away from the fact that she had no resemblance to the Velaryons. So did Rhaenyra's other children: Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey. They had plain brown hair and brown eyes, and so resembled more Westerosi servants than the Valyrian families that the Targaryens and Velaryons were.
Daemon had a hunch that none of Rhaenyra's children were Laenor's, and yet the man seemed perfectly okay with playing the legitimate father to them. He watched as Laenor quietly reprimanded Joffrey for sticking a finger up his nose. Daemon wished he was as good a father to his actual children as Laenor was to his adoptive ones. He cast a quick glance at Baela and Rhaena, who were both crying as Vaemond Velaryon stepped up to say his eulogy.
Not for the first time, he wished to be elsewhere. Though he had loved Laena in his own way, that love had not compared to what he had felt for Rhaenyra. And, looking at Daenerys, that love must have had its fruits, for he could see in her face some features that he possessed. For the first time in forever, Daemon did not regret bringing Rhaenyra to a brothel and fucking her right then and there, for a sixteen year old girl's womb was fertile and Daenerys had been conceived.
The girl was staring at Laena's funeral pyre, and suddenly said a couple of words to her mother, who nodded and turned to her two eldest boys. Daemon watched as Rhaenyra bent down to whisper in Jacaerys and Luke's ear, and was slightly stunned as the boys advanced to Baela and Rhaena. He said nothing as the two boys attempted to comfort his daughters, and, though with little success, he thought he saw a glimpse of a smile on Rhaena's face. Baela, as stubborn as he is, adamantly brushed off the comfort and did not stop her tears. He wanted to sigh, but controlled himself. He had acted much the same when his mother died, for he had been younger than his daughters were now.
Instead, he looked at all the people he hated in attendance. He looked at Otto Cunttower, who had been recently made Hand again after the devastating fire at Harrenhall that had killed Lord Lyonel and his son Ser Harwin Strong. He looked at Larys Strong, who after the death of his father and brother had been made Lord of Harrenhall. He looked at Alicent Cunttower, Otto's annoying daughter, who was trying to control her two sons who looked like they were going to rip each other's throats out. Daemon would've liked to see that. Two less green bargaining pawns. He noticed that Alicent's daughter kept on muttering words, and distantly remembered someone saying that the girl was not right in the head. That someone must've been quite right, he thought, looking at the girl.
But Daemon did not have all the time in the world to stare at his enemies and his allies, for he saw Viserys hobbling over to him. Though Daemon himself had made sure to not age at all, Viserys looked like he had seen five rebellions and had been starved to death. Daemon's older brother and the King of Westeros was walking, but heavily reliant on a cane to support himself as he walked.
And he could not help but chuckle, of all things, whilst Vaemond Velaryon was rambling on and on in High Valyrian.
Everyone turned to stare at him, though his eyes were only looking at the two most dear to him. Rhaenyra and Daenerys. Rhaenyra was glowering at him, and he didn't blame her. It had been a long time since the two of them had seen each other. His eyes turned to Daenerys, who looked more curious than angry. Her lilac eyes sparkled with something akin to amusement or laughter, though she had enough poise to not smile nor laugh out loud. She inherited that from Rhaenyra, for Daemon did not care about others. People could think whatever they wanted about him, but it did not change the fact that he was a dragon whilst they were merely some common sheep.
Vaemond Velaryon droned on, and Daemon spied the two green brats quietly arguing with one another. He certainly did not miss the way the older one side-glared his sister Helaena, and Daemon fancied for a second that he could read the word 'idiot' on the boy's lips. But Daemon did not care.
Viserys approached Daemon even more, but Daemon resolutely stared at Jacaerys, Lucerys, Baela and Rhaena. He did not want to talk with Viserys, the brother who was supposed to love him, and instead sent him away indefinitely to listen to Otto Cunttower's stupid proposals. Viserys should have been a good brother, and instead only succeeded in being a bad one. Daemon could not help but harbour hatred towards Viserys for that.
"Brother," Viserys smiles a toothless smile which makes Daemon shiver. "Your girls are the very image of their mother."
"A comfort and an anguish, as I well remember." Daemon retorts.
"The gods are cruel." His older brother shrugs as he pours himself some more wine. "This is what I felt when Aemma died, you know? The inability to look at Rhaenyra because she looked so like my beloved Aemma. But it will pass, in time. You will grow to see only your beautiful daughters, and less so their mother who so unfortunately died."
"It seems the gods were especially cruel to you, Viserys." Daemon's short reply came like the lash of a whip on one's back. Swift yet expected. His eyes roamed over Viserys's damaged body, with all the cuts and scrapes and bruises, and then looked at the green brats that Viserys had sired through one of Daemon's worst enemies.
"Yes, indeed." Viserys chuckled. The king was never one to quickly take offence at something said or done, so unlike Daemon. They used to complete each other well, like two halves of a puzzle coming together to form one. But now one barely knew the other, for it had been years since they both had seen each other. And they had not left each other on the best of terms. "You should return with us to King's Landing. It's time that you came home."
That certainly took Daemon by surprise. After unceremoniously sending him away to Essos and telling him to never come back, Viserys was now asking him to go back to King's Landing of all places? The nest of vipers and snakes? Never!
"Pentos is my home, and that of my children." Daemon looks away. It would be hard to separate Baela and Rhaena from the place where they grew up, though Laena had often asked if they could go back to Westeros. He had always said no, but now that he was here, he did not particularly want to return to Pentos. At the same time, he hated King's Landing, especially if Otto Cunttower and his daughter were there.
"Daemon... I know we've had our differences, but let them pass with the years. There's a place for you in my court if that's something you need." Viserys offers, looking at him with the sad gaze Daemon hates so.
"I need nothing." Daemon responds, and quickly leaves.
He wanted nothing to do with his brother. Sure, he missed him terribly at times, when he needed comfort or help in Pentos, but it did not change the fact that Viserys had left him when he needed him most. Viserys had made Daemon leave Rhaenyra when she needed him most too.
But Daemon would not let Viserys make him leave when Baela and Rhaena needed him most.
And he would not let Viserys take him away from the girl he knew to be his daughter.
Daenerys.
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