" 𝐃𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐈 "

𝐃𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐇𝐄 probably had a few bastards skuling around, it was hard not too when he loved whores warming his bed but he never spared them a thought really. He had enough legitimate children, two daughters in fact and that was two more than enough but he still wanted a son which is the reason why his wife, Laena Velaryon was swollen pregnant with his seed.

So, he didn't care much for children but he did love his daughters, Rhane and Baela, they were strong, smart, cunning and all spitfires - like their mother. He thought their were two uses for children, marriages that got you something in the end and more children to inherit things. That was until a raven came from his favorite spy and whore from Kings Landing, Myserria.

He had a bastard and apparently she was the spitting image of him, appearance and personality-wise. And wasn't that just what he needed? Another daughter. She had been traded in to the fighting pits within Flea Bottom. Daemon knew of the Pits, he was the commander of the City Watch and knew everything there was to know about the flithy city he wished to inherit. It was a dingy and dark place with even darker hearted people that liked to watch mere children fight each other to death. While Daemon loved battled and spilling blood more than the average man, he didn't necessarily enjoy children fighting children, it was all in poor taste in his opinion. He would rather watch actual men fighting, now there would be a show.

When he first read the letter, he didn't care about some bastard daughter of his in the fighting pits and nearly burnt the letter but instead he placed in his study drawer and went to dinner without another thought. It would take him four more days to revisit the letter when he overheard his children about wanting another friend their age, Pentos was boring to them now and there were no children, only greedy fat ugly men wanting to marry younger and more beautiful brides - something he would be holding off for his young children's sake. They wanted a training partner because there was no child of Daemon, girl or not that did not at least know how to wield a weapon and knew how to protect themselves. 

They also spoke about not feeling safe from the prying eyes of the Pentos Court and Daemon didn't blame them for feeling like that. They had no guard nor a sworn shield and were left completely unorotected when he was away dealing with other duties. While he knew no one in Pentos would be that foolish to ever touch or harm daughters of Daemon Targaryen he wanted to ensure more protection for his young daughters especially with their mother a moon pregnant - she would have no time to look after them when a another child came into their life. And his bastard was strong and fierce, if Mysseia was to be believed, apparently the girl was the top fighter and she would do well to be if she wanted to be named his daughter. Daemon Targaryen had no place for weak children in his bloodline.

So with another look over the neat cursive writing of Myssiers, he made his mind up and started strapping riding gear onto his muscular form. He had a journey to Kings Landing to go on to grab a white haired cannibal of a bastard. It wouldn't be that hard to sneak in due to his banishment with Myssiers help. 

𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐑 cage, the weight of the recent fight still lingering in her bones. She sat down wearily, her fingers undoing the braids in her hair—braids that had already loosened during the brutal clash. As she worked through the last braid, the sound of footsteps echoed through the quiet, followed by a voice calling her name.

"Cannibal, someone is here to see you," Colen, one of the masters, called from the doorway.

She paused, looking up to see Colen standing with a man who had smirked at her during the fight. Her gaze sharpened—there was something about him, something that immediately set her on edge.

The man stepped forward, his dark cloak flowing around him, and Adira noticed the white hair peeking out from beneath it. His pale skin, combined with his cocky expression, made her quickly assume he was a Targaryen. All Targaryens, and even the Velaryons, had a certain arrogance—earned, no doubt, but arrogance nonetheless.

"Hello, little cannibal," the cloaked man greeted her with a smirk that made her blood run cold.

She dipped her head slightly, responding with a soft, "Hello."

What could he want? He wouldn't be here if he didn't have a purpose, and she was no fool.

The man took a step closer, his gaze dragging lazily over her bloodied form, lingering on her hair. His eyes stopped at the white waves that framed her face, and Adira tilted her head slightly, waiting for him to speak. Her body ached, and the bleeding from her arm was starting to sting more, but she resisted the urge to tend to it. She needed answers first.

"What's your name, little one?" he asked, his voice gentle but filled with something that made her wary.

Adira hesitated for just a moment before answering. It had been so long since she'd addressed herself as anything other than "cannibal" or one of her other titles. But she gave him the truth, her voice low as she answered, "Adira."

The man hummed thoughtfully, stepping closer as he reached out, running a pale finger through a strand of her white hair. "White hair?" he murmured. "Who are your parents?"

Adira didn't flinch. She knew who she was, who her parents were, and she wasn't afraid of it—though she knew the truth might be dangerous. "My mother, Dreya, is a whore in Flea Bottom. My father is Daemon Targaryen, brother to King Viserys."

The man froze, his smirk vanishing as he took a step back. There was a noticeable tremor in his voice when he asked, "How do you know he's your father?"

A soft smile curled at Adira's lips, her words cutting through the silence like a blade. "My mother told me she had a night of passion with him fifteen years ago, and I was born. I have white hair, so it's not ridiculous to imagine, father."

At the mention of the word "father," the man flinched, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "How do you know?"

For the first time in a long while, Adira laughed. It was a short, sharp sound, but it felt good to let it out. She stepped forward, her eyes meeting his with a quiet challenge. "You look exactly like my mother said you would."

The man studied her face intently, as if searching for any sign of a lie. After a long moment, his expression softened, and to Adira's surprise, he reached out and wrapped her in an unexpected embrace. It was strange, unfamiliar—her mother had never hugged her. Adira found herself frozen for a moment, wondering if this was what love felt like. It was warm, comforting.

But just as quickly as he embraced her, he pulled back, coughing uncomfortably. Adira couldn't suppress the small smile that crept onto her lips at his awkwardness. Stepping back, he called for Colen, handing him a small bag, before looking back at her. "Come, little one. I'm taking you home."

"Home?" Adira asked, confusion clouding her voice. "This is my home."

Daemon—her father—scoffed, a hard edge to his voice. "This is not your home. Your home is with me, in ....."

The words struck her like a punch to the gut. ???? She didn't belong there. She belonged here, in the pits with the Stranger, in the dirt and blood. She wasn't worthy of a castle or the palace. She wasn't worthy of him. She was too far gone.

"I'm a bastard," she said quietly, almost to herself.

Daemon turned sharply to face her, shaking his head as he grasped her hand roughly, pulling her toward the door. "You're still of Targaryen blood. I paid for you, so you're coming... home with me."

Adira nodded, her mind racing as she stepped out of the cage, her home for so long. She couldn't help herself—she had to ask, "How much was I worth this time?"

Daemon hesitated for just a moment, then answered without looking back. His voice was low, tinged with something she couldn't quite place. "Twenty gold dragon coins."

Twenty? That was far more than what her mother had sold her for. The number lodged in her chest like a stone, and for the briefest moment, warmth bloomed in her heart. It confused her—why should she feel warmth from such a thing? But maybe, just maybe, this new life wouldn't be so bad. The pits had been all she'd known. Perhaps there was something better out there. Maybe, just maybe, she could leave the blood and pain behind and find something else, something different.

As they walked away, her mind wandered. Maybe the children who spoke of knights and saviors weren't wrong. Maybe her father—Daemon Targaryen—was her savior. She had the chance to prove herself to him, to prove she was worthy of his investment, even if she was nothing more than a bastard.

She felt the Stranger's eyes on her as she left the only home she'd known for a new, uncertain future. No matter where she went, it seemed he would always follow, his beady eyes watching from the shadows.

——-

very short I know but there's going to be bit of timeskip the next time we see Adira so yeah. Should I put a timeline up for you guys because it's probably going to get confusing with the ages and what not? 

vote and comment x 

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