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Prince Daemon Targaryen hastened to King's Landing upon receiving word of the newest addition to House Targaryen, delivered into the world by his brother and good sister. The tidings spread swiftly, proclaiming the birth of a princess, hale and hearty, as the letter so vividly described.
Daemon harbored no great fondness for children, never having sought to father heirs as other men of noble lineage did. Yet, such considerations were of no immediate consequence. Viserys was destined for the throne, and Daemon knew he had many years before matters of heirs would concern him.
Upon entering his good sister's chambers, Prince Daemon Targaryen was greeted by the piercing cries of a newborn, emanating in short bursts from a small bassinet placed beside Lady Aemma's bed. Aemma herself lay gaunt and clammy, her skin sullen against the linen.
Quickening to her side, Daemon gently placed a palm on her forehead, his brow furrowed in concern as he gauged for a fever.
A feeble smile flickered across Aemma's face as she opened her eyes briefly. "I didn't take you for a healer," she murmured faintly. "Is that why you've been absent from court? Studying at the Citadel, perhaps?"
Daemon snorted softly. "You know I'd sooner face an army than spend my time in Oldtown, Aemma."
The wails from the bassinet grew louder, drawing Daemon's attention. He turned towards it, his expression etched with concern. "Should I summon your ladies-in-waiting?" he asked.
Aemma shook her head weakly. "Rhaenyra prefers to be held by family," she replied. "Will you?"
Daemon, recently knighted and able to cut down men with a single stroke of his blade, found himself hesitating at the prospect of handling an infant. Yet at the mention of her name, he softened. "Rhaenyra," he murmured, testing the name on his tongue. It was regal, befitting of a Targaryen princess.
"Aemma, are you certain—" he began cautiously, but she interrupted him with a steely, maternal glare.
"Don't tell me the thought of holding a babe frightens you, Daemon."
Daemon scoffed defensively. "Of course not," he retorted before nervously approaching the bassinet. Peering inside, he eyed the wailing infant cautiously, unsure of his own ability to comfort her, but those thoughts were quickly abandoned.
She was a vision of beauty.
Her wide, tear-filled violet eyes gazed up at him, her mouth open in a plaintive cry. Silvery tufts of hair adorned her tiny head, while her small fists clutched anxiously at her chest. Daemon reached out and gently brushed a finger against her pudgy, round cheeks. Instantly, her cries softened, and she regarded him with curious eyes.
"Hello, sweetling," he murmured tenderly. "I'm your uncle."
She sniffled once, as if adding a touch of drama, before wrapping her tiny fist around his index finger. Daemon surprisingly found himself grinning down at her, instantly captivated by this little bundle.
Carefully, he scooped her up from the cradle, cradling her in his arms.
As Daemon held her close, he felt a warmth he hadn't expected. The weight of her small body against his chest stirred a protective instinct within him, one he hadn't realized he possessed. Despite his initial hesitation with babes, he found himself instinctively rocking her, murmuring soft reassurances.
He glanced back at Aemma, who watched them both with a frail but proud smile. "She's taken to you," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Daemon nodded, his gaze returning to Rhaenyra. "I suppose she has," he replied softly, his heart unexpectedly full.
The notion of becoming an uncle had never quite resonated with Daemon before. Aemma had faced difficulties carrying a child to term in the past, and he had always envisioned having a nephew — the son Viserys dreamt of — rather than a niece. Yet, as he gazed at little Rhaenyra in his arms, everything changed. One look at her, and Daemon couldn't fathom having anything other than his precious Rhaenyra.
"Has she taken to the skies yet? With Viserys?" Daemon asked, his eyes bright as he gazed down at his babbling niece.
Aemma chuckled softly, a hint of warmth coloring her tired features as she glanced fondly at her good brother. "No, not yet. Viserys is being cautious. He doesn't want his daughter soaring through the clouds mere days after her birth."
"Hm," Daemon mused thoughtfully, his gaze shifting to Rhaenyra nestled in his arms. "No wonder she's been restless. A dragon shouldn't be confined to a cradle; they're meant to feel the wind beneath their wings. My own mother had me on dragon back when I was scarcely a day old."
Aemma nodded, a small smile playing on her lips as she observed the tenderness in Daemon's expression towards Rhaenyra. "She shares your spirit, Daemon. The blood of the dragon is strong within her."
Daemon's smile widened as he looked down at Rhaenyra, imagining the future flights they might take together. "Yes," he murmured softly. "I can sense it. She's quite mighty, this one."
"Well, go on then," Aemma sighed with a gentle smile. "I could use a break from her restlessness anyway."
Daemon's grin widened at his good sister's permission, his eyes sparkling with anticipation as he turned to Rhaenyra. "Did you hear that, Rhaenyra?" he cooed softly. "Uncle Daemon is going to take you on your first flight."
Rhaenyra blinked up at him, her violet eyes wide and curious, as if sensing the excitement in his voice. Daemon carefully cradled her, his steps quickening as he made his way to the Dragonpit. There, he knew Caraxes would welcome the newest addition to the Targaryen family as swiftly as his rider had.