Chapter Text
When Danaryon was three, she made her first friend.
She had been spending the day with her grandfather, walking around the gardens when she noticed a presence following them. The presence stayed in the shadows, almost unnoticeable. It was only due to luck and a particularly well-timed gust of wind that Danaryon managed to catch a glimpse of their spectator.
As soon as Danaryon locked eyes with the young boy, he ducked behind a tree. Even at the age of three, Danaryon understood that for what it was. An attempt to go unnoticed, to fly under the radar as the little boy not fifty feet in front of her often did. Even at the age of three, she didn't care.
She waited until her grandfather turned her back to her to walk towards their spectator. She found him exactly where she thought she would, standing with his black flush against the tree he had used for cover, eyes scrunched closed as he awaited some kind of reprimand.
"Aemond," she spoke as clearly and confidently as she could. His name wasn't spoken loud or angrily and yet, his eyes snapped open and his hands pressed themselves against the tree. He looked petrified, almost. As if he had just been caught doing something he shouldn't.
Danaryon took a step back from him, holding out a small hand and speaking with as much of a demand as she could force into her voice. "Join."
Aemond looked between her and her hand, apprehension clear on his face. Danaryon could hear her grandfather calling her name somewhere in the background. He had discovered she wasn't beside him.
Aemond turned and looked towards his frantic father before turning back to Danaryon and searching her eyes. He was looking for something, she knew. She couldn't even begin to fathom what.
When he reached out and took her hand, face as pale as it would be if he was walking to the gallows, Danaryon smiled. Then, she stepped out from behind the tree, dragging Aemond behind her as she walked back toward her grandfather.
This, she knew with the same certainty all three years olds know things, would be the start of a beautiful friendship.
——————————
Danaryon was four the first time she heard the term, "bastard."
It was spoken in hushed whispers at her little brother's first name day celebration. Felt in the glances and sneers thrown their way. The term was bad, she knew that much. She just didn't know why.
And truthfully, what choice did the little dragon have other than to learn what slanders were being thrown against her house?
There was only one person whom she could trust to bestow this type of information upon her. Her mother, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, would never tell her. Danaryon knew that with the same certainty with which she knew her own name. Her father, Ser Laenor Velaryon, was much the same. And even at the young age of four, Danaryon knew that whatever decision her parents made would more likely than not be the same decision Ser Harwin Strong would make. He would not tell her either.
Lord Corlys, Princess Rhaenys, and Queen Alicent were all far too intimidating to question about simple matters such as this. Her grandfather, the person she would have usually gone to with this type of question, was sitting on the Iron Throne, laughing with guests and looking none the wiser about the insults and jabs.
Aemond and Helaena would know just as little as she did, Danaryon believed. So, she was forced to ask the one person she had left whom she trusted to tell her the truth.
"Aegon," she spoke quietly, approaching her uncle as he sat around a table stuffing his face with as much food as he could. "What is a bastard?"
Aegon choked on his food, turning to look at his niece with an unreadable expression on his face. "Why do you ask?"
Danaryon gestured to the room and tapped her ears, signaling her uncle to listen to what was being said around them. It didn't take long for a look of realization to dawn on Aegon's face.
He cleared his throat, turning to face his niece. He clasped his hand together and sat up as straight as he could. He looked more serious then than Danaryon had ever seen him. "A bastard is a child born to two people who are not wedded."
Danaryon's brows furrowed as she tried to understand. "Why?"
Aegon, who was as used to the few words she spoke as the rest of their family, did not need her to elaborate. Why are they speaking of this on my brother's name day?
Aegon sighed, squeezing his right hand in his left as he tried to decide what to do. "You don't need to..."
"Aegon," Danaryon interrupted, glaring at her uncle as he tried to deflect her question. "Why?"
Aegon took a deep breath before speaking slowly, "look at Aemond, father, and I. Do you see our physical similarities?"
Danaryon looked only because he asked her to. The look wasn't even necessary, in reality. She knew how similar her uncles and grandfather looked. Their looks were so similar that one could not mistake them as anything other than related. They had the same white hair, the same violet eyes, and the same bone structure...
"Now look at yourself and your father," Aegon instructed and Danaryon did what he asked. She looked at her father, taking in his broad shoulders and his dark skin, and his dimples. Then, she looked down at herself. Fair-skinned and slender built. She smiled and reached up to touch her face. No dimples. The only physical resemblances she shared with her father were her white hair and purple eyes. Almost everything else about her appearance came from her mother.
Except for the things that didn't, of course.
There were some things about her, Danaryon knew even now, that she could not attribute to her mother or her father. Her facial structure, her almost abnormally large hands...
Those features did not come from her mother or her father. No, those had to come from somewhere else. Someone else.
The realization hit her with the force of a dragon stepping down on her chest. "Me," she reached her hand up to point at her chest, gulping, "bastard?"
Aegon nodded, and Danaryon felt a bit like she was drowning.
——————————
From then on, it felt like the only word Danaryon ever heard was bastard. It was spoken on the playground, in the halls, at the training yard...
She could not escape it. But she could ignore it. In fact, she could ignore it so well that she'd almost convinced herself it wasn't true. Features are not a set-in-stone way of knowing who one's parents are, she'd tell herself. I can look the way I do and still be the daughter of Laenor Velaryon. She almost believed it. She was so close to believing it...
Then she met Daemon Targaryen.
It was a bit like staring at herself in a mirror. They looked so similar to each other that one would question whether or not Rhaenyra was her mother long before they questioned whether or not Daemon was her father.
The way his breath caught and his eyes widened when he saw her was almost comical. She pretended not to notice it.
Just as she pretended not to notice the yelling happening outside later that night.
"Why in the seven hells didn't you tell me?"
"You left, Daemon! What was I supposed to do? Fly to Essos and drag you back?"
"Yes!" Daemon screamed. Danaryon absentmindedly wondered how they had avoided waking up everyone else in the house. "If that's what it took then yes. You should have done something. Anything!" The next words spoken were as much an admission as Danaryon thought she'd ever get. "Anything other than forcing me to miss five years of her life."
As their voices quieted, Danaryon settled into the bed between those of her snoring brothers. And as she tried to sleep, she couldn't help but wonder if her mother had named her Danaryon because it was the closest she could get to Daemon.
——————————
Danaryon spent the entirety of her sixth year on this Earth playing pretend. She pretended she didn't know that Daemon Targaryen was her father. She pretended she didn't see how Aegon, the uncle she had once looked up to, was crumbling under the pressure of his status. She pretended she didn't see how Alicent plotted and schemed or how the vultures came to prey on her grandfather.
The only place that felt like she had a break from the facade was Essos. It was the only place she felt like she could breathe, sometimes. The only place where the thoughts that plagued her mind would quiet.
And most importantly, Essos had Daemon.
The father and daughter duo had grown significantly closer in the last year. Though Danaryon easily noted that it wasn't the type of close he was with Baela and Rhaena. She didn't begrudge her father that. After all, as far as anyone else knew she had no idea that he was anything more to her than an uncle. Because of that, he had to keep a certain distance. She understood.
However, no amount of forced distance could stop Daemon from giving his daughter a small gift or trinket every time he saw her.
This time, he brought it to her while she was sitting near a large tree, practicing High Valyrian with her mother. He walked up to them, hands clasped behind his back, and called out to her the same way he always did. "Hello, little princess."
She turned towards him, a small smile forming on her face in greeting. She could not show him the wide smile that she wished she could. For this was the only part of the facade that she had to keep playing even in Essos. Pretending she didn't know Daemon was her father. She had to maintain a distance between them just as much as he did. "Hello, uncle."
Daemon's smile always fell when she called him that, if only just a bit. Danaryon wondered if he knew.
"I've brought you something," Daemon said, pulling one hand from behind his back, his eyes flickering over to Rhaenyra before settling on his daughter once again. He kneeled down to be face-to-face with his child and extended his closed fist to her. Then, he turned his fist palm up and opened his hand, revealing a silver ring on a chain. Rhaenyra sucked in a breath at the sight. Danaryon just stared at the ring in wonder.
"This ring is made of Valyrian steel," Daemon whispered, taking in the look of awe on Danaryon's face. He turned the ring in his hand a bit, showing off the small red jewels embedded into the sides. "Like my sword, Dark Sister."
The chain was big enough that Daemon didn't even have to unclasp it to put it on her. He simply slipped it on over her head. "Now," he said, holding onto the ring for just a second more before he let it drop against her chest. "You have a piece of our history with you. The same as your mother and I do."
Danaryon turned to her mother then, noting the faraway look in her eyes and the way her hand had come up to her neck. As if reaching for something that wasn't there. For the first time in years, Danaryon didn't question what secrets that movement may be hiding. She let it all go. If her mother's eyes were a bit misty, from a happy emotion no doubt, judging by the smile on her mother's face, then it wasn't Danaryon's place to wonder about that right now.
No, this ring had given her something she had desperately been craving for the last year. Her whole life, even.
An excuse to hug her father.
——————————
Dalaryon was seven when she finally grew tired of living a lie. All the secrets, the deception... it was eating at her. She needed to talk to someone.
She only really had one option.
Dalaryon opened up the secret passageway in her room late at night, following the familiar pathway to her best friend's room. Despite how late it was, he wouldn't be asleep. That she knew for a fact. He always stayed up late, just in case Danaryon might need to see him.
It was a sweet and thoughtful notion. A loyal one, too. Danaryon had never been more glad for that loyalty.
She reached the room she was going to and knocked on the door, waiting for her friend on the other side to open it up for her. It didn't take long.
"Ary," None other than Aemond Targaryen spoke as he opened the door to the secret passageway. He had a wide smile on his face, clearly expecting her to have some joy at seeing him.
"Hello, Aemond," Danaryon responded and Aemond's smile immediately fell. It was strange, she thought. Having someone who knows you well enough to gauge your entire emotional state off of two words.
"What's wrong?" He asked, stepping aside to let her in his room. She didn't hesitate to step past him. He quickly looked around the passageway, checking to make sure she wasn't followed before closing the door behind her. As soon as the door shut, he was turning around, looking at her with wide, worried eyes. "Are you..."
Danaryon brought a finger up to her lips, signaling him to be quiet. Next, she pointed to his bedroom door and tapped her ear, asking him a silent question. Can the guards hear us?
Aemond seemed to realize then, just how serious this was. He grabbed her hand, pulling her towards his bathroom. It was a smart move, placing multiple stone walls between them and the guards outside his door. They wouldn't be heard as long as they didn't yell.
As soon as they were inside the room, Aemond turned to her, worry obvious on his face. "Are you okay?"
Danaryon sighed and tried to let go of his hand. She wanted to dig her nails into her palm or pick and peel at her lips. Anything to take her mind off of what she was about to say. Aemond didn't let her. If anything, he just held on tighter.
"There's something I need to tell you," Danaryon admitted, finally giving up on pulling her hand away from Aemond. She sounded defeated, even to her own ears. "But you must promise me something first."
"Anything," Aemond responded without so much as a hint of hesitation.
"When I'm done, and you know everything you need to know," Danaryon looked down at the ground and took in a shaky breath. She could feel Aemond squeeze her hand at the action. Once, twice. Encouraging her to keep going. She looked up at him again. Something about the look in his eyes made her chest ache. "Promise me you won't think any differently of me."
Usually, Aemond would have met her with a sarcastic retort. Something about how he must be doing a poor job at showing his care for her if she'd even had to ask that question. Now was neither the time nor place for that kind of remark. "I promise," he said, with so much conviction and truth in his voice that Danaryon honestly felt as if she might tear up.
"Okay," Danaryon squeezed her eyes shut, grasping Aemond's hand just a bit tighter in her own. "I'm a bastard."
The silence was almost deafening.
Danaryon made to pull her hand back again, thinking she'd made a mistake in telling him this. But once again, Aemond did not let her go. She opened her mouth, prepared to plead that he never tell anyone. To plead that he forget about this and allow them to go on as they were when he finally responded. "I know."
Danaryon stopped struggling, going stiff as a board. "You know?"
"You honestly thought I didn't?"
That was fair, she supposed. "You don't care?"
"You're still you," Aemond spoke as if that was an answer in and of itself. Maybe to him, it was. "It doesn't matter if you have what most of our family would consider impure blood. Or if you are the daughter of a common-born. You are still a Targaryen. And my best friend. Nothing else matters."
That was quite possibly the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to her in her life. However, there was something that stood out to her about his speech. "Do people honestly think I'm common born?"
Aemond looked a little taken aback at her question. Gaping for a moment before he answered. "Well yes, what else would you be?"
Danaryon giggled, shaking her head. "I'm not common born."
Aemond's brows furrowed. "How?"
She'd already gone this far, she may as well go all the way. What's the worst that could happen? "Daemon is my father."
Aemond nearly choked on air. "Daemon? As in our uncle?"
"The very same."
"How do you know?" Aemond asked, his eyes as wide as saucers.
Danaryon shrugged, "it's a long story."
Aemond grinned. "Tell me."
And honestly, what choice did Danaryon have but to oblige?
——————————
When Danaryon was eight, she finally realized how hard being a bastard could be.
She felt guilty just thinking about it. It was wrong. She had no right to feel the way she did. Her father was happy and she wanted nothing more than for him to be happy. But when she learned that Laena was pregnant with another baby...
It felt like her world was crashing down around her.
It wasn't fair, she thought. For her to have to watch him get so excited over a new baby. It was even more unfair, in Danaryon's opinion, for her to have to watch that baby get to have him. To call him father, to hug him whenever they felt like it, to grow up with him.
She had seen her father no more than fifteen times since she met him and this baby was going to get to have him every day. Daemon hadn't spoken a word to her about her parentage while his new child is going to be able to call him father. It wasn't fair.
Did he not want her to know? Was that it? Was that why neither he nor her mother had told her of her true parentage? Did he feel as though she were acceptable to have as a niece but unbearable to have as a daughter? It was a thought that ate at her. It stomped on her heart and tore the breath from her lungs.
Danaryon had nearly cried when she found out. It was only her skill and experience in living a lie that had allowed her to keep the tears from her eyes, when her father stood beside Laena, smiling down at her stomach as if this baby was the greatest gift he'd ever been given.
She had thought that was it. The single worst thing that could ever happen to her. Then, barely even a week after Laena had announced her pregnancy, Danaryon's mother announced one as well.
If the first announcement was her world crumbling down around her, this one was a rug being pulled from beneath her feet.
This pregnancy, more than even Laena's, forced Danaryon to think about some things. Things she had been avoiding thinking about for a very long time.
Namely, the color of her brother's hair.
It takes two people to form a baby, that much Danaryon had learned from Aegon. Two people who will contribute to the physical features of a baby.
Both Jace and Luke had curly brown hair, brown eyes, and white skin. They had a slender build, but they very obviously have the potential to gain muscle. Their faces were plain, bone structure normal, unlike any other Targaryen she'd ever seen. Two people contribute to the physical features of a baby. One had been her mother. But there was simply no plausible way that the other was Laenor.
Her brothers were bastards. Same as she was. It was the only thing that made sense.
Then with that realization, one that she had been in denial of for years, Danaryon was left with one burning question. Who was their father?
It couldn't be Daemon. Neither of Danaryon's brothers looked anything like her. And even more than that, no matter how much her mother and father loved each other, and they did, if Danaryon knew nothing else, she knew that. Her father loved Laena too. He may not love her in the same way he loves her mother, but he does love her. More importantly than that, he respects her. Daemon wouldn't betray Laena like that. Not even for Rhaenyra.
The father couldn't be any other Targaryen either. If they were, her brothers would share her hair color at the very least.
In truth, that only left her with one other option...
Ser Harwin Strong.
Honestly, Danaryon was a little disappointed she hadn't put that one together sooner. As much as she looked like Daemon her brothers looked like Harwin. It was unmistakable, truly. Especially when one takes into account Harwin's behavior toward the boys.
It was a little jarring, honestly. Going back through her memories and relabeling what she thought had been student and mentor moments as father and son moments.
First, the countless memories of her brothers and Harwin made her feel ill. Then, they made her feel guilty.
It wasn't Jace and Luke's fault that Harwin was there while Daemon wasn't. It wasn't Baela, Rhaena, or the new babe's fault that they got to make countless memories with Daemon while she didn't. And it wasn't Harwin or Laena's fault that her parents were separated by entire oceans.
Danaryon didn't begrudge them, truly. She wanted her family to be happy. And the way she was feeling right now was dark and suffocating. About as far away from happy as one could possibly be. She wouldn't wish that feeling on any of them.
Yet, as Danaryon lay in bed that night, she couldn't help but wonder, why was she the only one whose family wasn't allowed to be whole? And as she squeezed her eyes shut so tight she saw stars, and tears began to leak from her eyes...
Danaryon wished things could be different.