You were the daughter of Jon and Dany, the silent heir and discreet light of their lives. You had dark brown hair like your father's, but a few silver strands stubbornly shone in the light, a reminder of the valyrian blood that ran through your veins. Like your mother, there was something ethereal about you - and your enchantment with feathers was almost ritual: long, small, white or colored feathers, all kept carefully, like treasures.

"Jon, look at this one... it looks like it came from a hawk," said Dany, gently touching the bluish feather that you handed her with attentive eyes.

Jon raised an eyebrow, taking the find seriously. "Or from some vain raven," he murmured, drawing a soft laugh from Dany.

You looked at them in silence, as if waiting for approval. Dany bent down and smoothed a lock of her silver hair.

"Keep it up," she said. *Seeing beauty in the little things... that's what keeps us human.