Being Daemon's Daughter Would Include (Part I)

Being Daemon's Daughter Would Include (Part I)

a/n: I just can't get the idea out of my head that Daemon is an incredibly sweet & loving father & honestly really needed to write this for comfort. when I started I thought it would be a little oneshot/imagine, but I ended up having a lot more to say than I anticipated so this is going to be multiple parts! if you, like me, are in need of wholesome soft! daemon who would do anything for you & be an amazing father, I hope this helps 💕

summary: a recounting of the day you were born & daemon's first moments with you

cw: difficult birth (but it all ends happily!), fem reader, mostly comfort & fluff

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The Day You Were Born

-The day you were born was one of the happiest days of Daemon Targaryen's life.

-He didn't know quite what to expect of fatherhood and in truth, there was more than a small part of him that dreaded the idea, even feared it. He didn't think himself terribly well-suited to a life of domesticity, seemingly so tedious and dull. Of course, everything changed the moment he saw you.

-It was a difficult birth, but not once did he leave your mother's side. His hands would be covered in bruises for days to come from the way she squeezed, but every single patch of blue and purple was worth it.

-You weren't ready to leave your mother's womb just yet, and after much struggle, one of the Maesters pulled your father aside and told him another method may be required to successfully deliver you. But when informed of the sacrifice it would require, Daemon gave the old man such a glower that the midwives thought the Prince would slay him where he stood.

-Daemon composed himself and simply said that both you and your mother would be happy and healthy by the end of the day. The threat was clear as the summer skies and from that moment forward, though one hand continued to be squeezed by your mother's, the other rested firmly on the hilt of Dark Sister. Daemon would do anything to protect his family.

-He was never a man of the Faith, but in those trying hours he prayed to the Old Gods and the New. He prayed to the Many Faced God and the Lord of Light. He prayed to anything and everything that might be listening, that might possibly hold some power. He didn't think he deserved to be spared pain or loss, but he knew for a fact that you and your mother deserved all the goodness this life had to offer.

-When your mother began to lose hope and panic started to set in, he wiped her brow and kissed her forehead, whispering, "This world is not yet done with you, my darling."

-He likes to think you heard his voice, for despite the hours spent by the Maesters and midwives doing everything they could, it was only after he spoke those words that you decided you were ready to join the world.

-Of course, he let your mother hold you first, and though she desperately wanted to spend the rest of the day with you in her arms, she needed her rest. After a few minutes and many more assurances that you were healthy as could be, you were passed to a midwife and then, for the first time, to your father.

-You had come into this world screaming and crying, and even in your mother's arms, you wouldn't quite settle. But the moment you found yourself in Daemon's embrace, the whole world turned soft and warm. Everything was kind and good. Everything was love.

-And he was in love from the moment he held you in his arms, the moment you looked in his eyes. He saw so much of your mother in those eyes, but what surprised him was how much he saw of himself. You were the most gentle mirror, only reflecting the good. You were half of him, but you had his whole heart.

-He pressed his lips softly against the center of your forehead. "Tala," he murmured, tears in his eyes. Daughter.

-As soon as he uttered the word, he knew you would be one of the few people in his life to speak High Valyrian. He would teach you the language of your ancestors and delight in every word you spoke. No victory would be small. Everything would be celebrated.

-He imagined who you might be and what he might pass onto you. He wondered if you'd be a dragonrider. He hoped you would like Caraxes (he knew Caraxes would love you). He secretly dreamt of teaching you how to fight and, when you were old enough, letting you hold Dark Sister. Maybe even wield her. He was incredibly possessive over his Valyrian steel sword, and rightfully so. Very few were worthy of her. But he knew that even fewer would be worthy of you, and at the thought of you wielding her, his heart swelled with pride.

-But he knew he would love you just as much if you preferred the graces and arts to battles. Perhaps you would have a voice to enchant the realm, or a sharp wit to rival any Maester.

-Anyone else might have worried. So many parents expected their child to be the best they could possibly be, but that wasn't Daemon. He loved you as you were. No matter who you would become, no matter your accomplishments, you would always be his world. You would always have his heart. He would always be proud to be your Kepa.

-He smiled as you wrapped your hand around his finger, cooing as you looked up in awe. Daemon Targaryen was many things. He was the unruly, chaotic brother of the King. He was the second son, former heir to the Iron Throne. He was the Prince of the City, Lord Flea Bottom, King of the Narrow Sea, and, first and foremost, the Rogue Prince. But he never expected that his favourite title would be born of love instead of war. He never expected a title so gentle, so beautiful.

-He never expected it, but he was so grateful to be your father.

-Your Kepa.