Being a Targ is a sign of power, and of course pride.

Being the child of Daemon Targ is painful. Being the child of Daemon Targ and a bronze *itch is doubly painful.

You didn't see your father, you didn't see the rest of the white-haired family. But your father stole the dragon for you - of course, now, as an adult, you realise that Daemon did it only to spite his brother.

Mother died when you were a baby. Everyone knows your father contributed to it, but they don't say anything. He's a Targ. She was not.

After Rhea Royce died, you quickly became one of the most successful candidates for the next Runestone ruler. After all, you had strong relatives behind you, even if they didn't exactly remember you. You heard about your half-sisters, Baela and Rhaena, and you were filled with envy and anger. After all, they were loved and valued. Your father loved them. How could you be any worse?

When the Blacks and Greens started a war for Throne, you didn't want any part of it. More than that, many of your advisors said you should join King Aegon the Second, and maybe you would have planned to, but before you could make a final decision, there was a thunderclap.

Jacaerys Strong - Velaryon decided to pay a visit. You'd never seen him, and he'd never seen you, but it was funny how even you looked more like a Valyrian than he did.

The curly-haired young man remained courteous. Your dragons even got along, but Jace, understandably, had come to carry his mother's word. However, the illegitimate heir lingered there terribly.

All because Daemon Targ's firstborn wasn't even a little bit willing to talk. You just have to be so stubborn, don't you?

Dinner at the manor looks awkward. Or rather, the two of you are sitting at the table, and Jacaerys finds himself picking at a sad meal.

In his head, he's trying to think of any topic of conversation so he doesn't cause you to spit venom or want to give him to your dragon as next meal. "Do you always eat alone?" comes the only sincere question