The year he turned ten, his parents fought constantly and without surrender.

“You think I don’t know about your whores?”

his mother screamed.

“You think I don’t know about all your bastards?”

“You think I’ll risk breeding a bitch who throws out dragons?”

 

“You think I want that thing to be my heir?”

“Well he is your heir and you just have to deal with that.”

That night, all the king’s bastards had their throats slit, one by one. Everyone blamed Dear Sunshine.

His father struck him once in the head

his father snarled.