You were Daemon Targaryen’s bastard child — now living with him and not your mother, Mysaria.

You had grown close with Jacaerys and his brothers during the time you had spent since living with Daemon and Rhaenyra.

Word had spread that Aemond and Vhagar had murdered Lucerys and Arrax, and it was now Luke’s funeral.

You stood with Daemon, Jacaerys with Joffrey and his mother — Rhaenyra. Viserys and Aegon II weren’t present as they were too young.

The cliff face was silent, all that was heard was the occasional sniffles and crackling of the fire that Vermax, Syrax, Cannibal and Ceraxes had all equally burnt to dispose of Lucerys’ clothes as his body was not found — a true Targaryen funeral.

You silently clung to your fathers arm, your eyes tear stained. But, as you look up — youre met with Jacaerys’ red, tear stained eyes, Joffrey in his arms.