gūrogon issa {house of the dragon}

prologue

Daemon should have known that whore of a woman would do this.

He should have known she would abandon the baby with him and make this his mess to clean up.

Now he had a screaming one year old in his care that he had to dispose of.

The last thing he needed was another annoyance.

His first thought was to just leave the thing, a girl really was of no use to him. If it was a son, perhaps. Then it would have been called a simple boyish or manly adventure and he would be accepted.

But not a girl, no. Bastard daughters were of no use.

This is what led him to the pit.

Let her be returned to the dragons, to those in the bowels of the stone.

It would be a much less cruel fate, he had determined.

The child cried and wailed and flailed until they reached the caverns, the air hot and tepid.

A low growl greeted them, a rustling of chains and heavy footfall that shook the ground they stood on.

Daemon set the child in the dirt, tear filled purple irises meeting his.

She was small, underfed. Her ribs pressed into her skin and showed through her small chest, thin little shirt much too big and hanging off of her in tatters.

He began to hum, lowly, towards the sound of the thundering steps as the overpowering scent of dragon began to become nearly unbearable.

"Drakari pykiros

Tīkummo jemiros

Yn lantyz bartossa

Saelot vāedis

Hen ñuhā elēnī:

Perzyssy vestretis

Se gēlȳn irūdaks

Ānogrose

Perzyro udrȳssi

Ezīmptos laehossi

Hārossa letagon

Aōt vāedan

Hae mērot gierūli:

Se hāros bartossi

Prūmȳsa sōvīli

Gevī dāerī."

The creature he was awaiting reared its massive head, golden eyes studying him with a rumble and bearing of its long teeth.

"Dracarys, Vermithor." The prince gestured towards the little bastard.

Vermithor dipped his head, and with that Daemon turned and strode back towards the exit of the bowels.

That was his mission, and he very well accomplished it.

~~~

It wasn't until the morning came that Daemon returned to the heart of the mountain Dragonstone was built upon.

He supposed that he would need to make sure there were no traces, no sign on the tyke that her mother called Anwyn.

The prince had no reason to keep a recollection of her name now, the whore bestowed it upon her even though he had explicitly told her to not.

As the dim light of the flames overtook the path to the pit, he could make out the hulking form of the bronze fury.

It was curled, eyes fixed on a foot that lay open beside his head.

The little brat slept peacefully over the knuckles, completely naked and devoid of the dirt and grime that covered her skin. Pale curls lept from her head in every direction possible, and drool slipped from the corner of parted lips.

"You were supposed to burn it." Daemon hissed, jaw clenching with a narrow of his eyes.

Vermithor curled his lip in warning, eye snapping open to show him he was aware of his presence.

Challenging him to take the child away with a growl of warning that made the floor tremble.

Daemon considered his options for a moment, an internal debate that racked his mind.

He could leave the damned child, he would grow hungry eventually.

Or...

Or...

Perhaps? Perhaps she could be useful to him after all.

As soon as Vermithor slumbered, the prince took his unwanted daughter and brought her to his brother and wife, who were annoyingly coddling their four-year-olds.

"Here. Have another. Give Vaenyra and Rhaenrya another sister."

He set Anwyn before them and left to return to the guard, not particularly caring what happened next.