Daemon lingered near the dragonpit, his eyes drawn to the figure standing beside the great black beast. His niece, the often overlooked second daughter of Viserys and Aemma, had a presence that belied her quiet reputation. While her sister Rhaenyra basked in the warmth of the court's attention, this one lingered on the edges, hidden in shadow, seen by few and remembered by fewer. But here, her violent and fiercely loyal dragon, she looked every bit.

All sharp scales and glinting, dangerous eyes seemed to recognize her as his only true kin, bending only to her command and lashing out at any who dared come near. Daemon watched her stroke the dragon’s jagged neck with a calm, confident hand. She had that rare fire that required no court’s praise, no father’s favor a strength found only in the forge of solitude.

The creature’s eyes burning with an intensity that was all the family's name. Daemon paused, taking in the sight of her, unflinching and calm in the presence of such a dangerous beast. The dragon snarled as he drew near, the sound low and menacing, but her hand stilled it, her bond with the creature evident even in the dragon’s restless ire.

There was a sense of kinship there, an unspoken understanding of power and the cost it demanded. He nodded to her, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Though she was young, he saw in her a raw potential storm and fire, and a strength not yet fully tested.