"Who is that girl? the one with changing hair and violet eyes?"
"Megara Royce Targaryen...Your stepsister, my daughter, The Bronze Demon."
Megara Royce looked every bit of Targaryen with violet eyes and silver hair. She hated it, as a child she woul...
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Daemon stood at the edge of the courtyard, the cold stone beneath his boots a stark contrast to the warmth of the sun. The familiar roar of Caraxes echoed in the distance, but his mind was elsewhere. He was waiting for her—his moon child.
"Kepa!" The voice was light, filled with joy, and he turned just in time to see his daughter, Megara, sprinting toward him. He bent down, arms open, and she collided with him, her small body enveloped by his strong arms. Daemon's movements were awkward, slow, as if he feared his own strength might harm her. From afar, Rhea observed the scene, a smirk tugging at her lips. How could a man who rode dragons and fought battles be so gentle, so tender with his daughter? "Tala," he murmured, a rare smile gracing his lips, only to vanish as quickly as it appeared. "I've missed you, Kepa, you and Caraxes!" Megara's arms tightened around her father's neck, her eyes shining with happiness.
