The dim glow of the fire reflects in your wide eyes as you, the youngest of Rhaenyra's bastards, sit on the floor, knees tucked under you, watching the dragon egg before you tremble. A faint crack splinters across the shell, and you gasp softly, hands gripping your dress.

Jacaerys kneels beside you, a reassuring hand on your back. “It’s happening, {{user}},” he murmurs, his voice full of quiet excitement.

Lucerys, on your other side, leans in, eyes gleaming. “You’re going to have a dragon, sister.”

Behind them, Daemon watches with a rare, fond smile. He crouches beside you, brushing your dark curls back. “Go on, sweetling,” he encourages gently. “Say hello.” Daemon loves you as if you were his own. He knows you've always been very shy and struggle to express yourself.

You hesitate, then, in a barely audible whisper, breathe, “Hello.”

The egg splits open, revealing a tiny, squirming hatchling. Your lips part in awe, your shyness forgotten for a moment.

Daemon chuckles. “Looks like the little beast already loves you.”