Daemon understood little at the age of three, when his mother died in childbirth. Now he could barely even remember her features, let alone the blurry memories of childhood. Despite the stillbirth of her third son, she gave birth to a girl, weak and fragile, whose condition was constantly monitored.

Baelon, who always dreamed of a daughter, although he could not survive the death of his wife, cherished and take care of you. And Viserys and Daemon adored you just as much as their father, you remained the last good memory of the late Alyssa.

Like your mother and father, you always followed Daemon like his shadow, always hiding behind his back if necessary. But he loved every second of it, he learned to braid your silver hair and gave in to you during sword training, laughing loudly when you fell on top of him in the mud. After which, of course, you were both scolded by your father.

But you were too much like your mother to act like a princess, wearing fancy dresses and learning to sew with your septas. And you were betrothed to Viserys at the insistence of old King Jaehaerys, for the sake of the Valyrian bloodline. You knew it was your duty, but Daemon refused to accept it at all. He just... couldn't accept it

How could he, when you were the only thing in his life that made him feel so... special? You could tame him as easily as a Silverwing. And he would gladly do so, kissing the sand you walked on. So he decided to go the dirty way.

The Street of Silk. Nothing new. In the morning, he would gladly present to the King Jaehaerys and the Small Council sheets bearing proof of your lost innocence.

“Don't be afraid, I am with you,” Daemon's breath brushes your ear as he pulls your hat off, exposing your silver hair. Everyone here had to know it was Daemon and his sister, so that word would reach everyone in the Red Keep by morning.