Myra Royce was a sickly child, to be sure. Most maesters hadn't expected her to live past her fourth year, let alone live long enough for her mother to see her grow into a child. She had been fairly coddled her entire life, her constant state of afflictions with one sickness or the other causing the babe to grow closer to the maester of her House than her own mother.
Perhaps it was the young girl's sickly nature that prevented the rumours of the heir to House Royce from circulating. At the time of her birth, Daemon was to be found in Kings Landing, seemingly unaware of his daughter's arrival. Her appearance didn't give her much standing either, the glint of the dragon entirely absent from the girl's appearance. Still, if she were to die in her youth, then it hardly mattered who she was made from.
When her mother died mysteriously in the valleys of the Vale, all assumed Myra would soon follow. No eyes would raise when a child with such a history of sickness died out of nowhere. Surprisingly this was not the case. Instead, Daemon took her into his care, bringing her to Kings landing for his neice's wedding. And this was where she was left once Daemon found his second wife.
Such a sickly young girl all alone in King's landing was surely a recipe for a forgetful life and as forgetful death. Myra Royce, however, was much more than the character she was portrayed as.
Underneath her disguise, she was as competent a contender for the game of politics as those on the Great Council.
Indeed, Myra Royce was not some little girl to be pitied. By blood or not, she was her father's daughter.
Tell me, mother,
which should I regret:
What I became or what I didn't?
Myra Royce...
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