The Little, Lost Princess
Rhaenys wanted her father back.
As she crouched beneath his bed, clutching Balerion close to her chest, Rhaenys wished for no one but her Father.
She wanted to sit on his knee again, with him reading her stories from one of the big books that he had.
She wanted to brush her fingers over the polished black surface of his harp's handle as he played it for her.
She wanted to braid his silver hair into amusing patterns, like the times she did so when he used to let her play with it.
She wanted to go back to home, to Dragonstone, where nobody would ever take her father away from her.
He had always been there for her, her father, in Dragonstone. Oft times he would be cooped up in his solar, or treating with some lord or the other, but every evening, father and daughter would be inseparable, giggling over Balerion, playing with the babe Aegon or taking turns, clamouring, singing for Mother, the daughter making a valiant effort in imitating her father's experienced voice.
Father had talked to her about prophecies and magic from time to time.
"You are more important than you know, my sweet," he had said once, while tickling her chin.
Rhaenys had giggled.
"Why, Father?"
"You are one of the heads of the dragon. See?" He had pointed to the Targaryen sigil of the red three-headed dragon over a field of black, which was emblazoned on his tunic.
"That dragon is your brother, Aegon," he had said, pointing to one of the heads of the dragon. "This is you," he had said, moving his fingers to rest on another head of the dragon. Rhaenys had wandered her nails over her father's tunic, gently caressing the dragon head that would be hers.
"One day, when you are a woman grown, you will help your brother rule the kingdoms and fight monsters and ride dragons, just like the Conqueror and Queen Rhaenys."
"Then who is the third dragon, Father?" Rhaenys had tugged at his collar. He had smiled at that.
"Mayhaps a Visenya. Would you like that?"
"Yes, Father," she had mumbled against his chest.
He had kissed her cheek, causing her to giggle again. "Go on now. Your lady mother would be angered if I kept you awake any longer."
And then one day, Father had gone away.
Where is he?
Rhaenys had fretted all day, crying and pestering Uncle Lewyn. Not even Balerion could soothe her.
Where is he?
Two moons had passed by quickly.
Father had never been away from Rhaenys for this long, besides the time during the Great Tourney of Harrenhal. Mother had told her that Prince Rhaegar would be back soon, he is your father, yes? Lady Ashara and Uncle Lewyn had said so too. But Lady Ashara had been angry, Mother upset and Uncle Lewyn furious.
Within that week, they had been summoned to court. To King's Landing.
"Why?" Rhaenys had asked Uncle Lewyn, as they set sail from Dragonstone. "To keep you safe, my princess,"Uncle Lewyn had said. "Robert Baratheon has declared war on your royal grandfather, the king." Rhaenys had only dim memories of Lord Robert, a big man with a frightening laugh. "Why did he do that, Uncle?"
"Cousin Robert is angry because Rhaegar carried away his betrothed," Viserys had told her, once they had reached King's Landing. "You do know what betrothed is, right?" After a huff of condescension on Rhaenys's part, Viserys had continued. "Well, do you know why Rhaegar did that?"
When Rhaenys had shook her head at that, Viserys had given her an ugly sneer, which had made his nose twitch. "It's because of you, you know. You are all dark and Dornish, you and Princess Elia. You're not a dragon. Rhaegar cannot stand you anymore."
"No," Rhaenys had exclaimed with the morbidity of a toddler," That is a falsehood! Father told that I am a true dragon and that I will ride dragons and- well, you're lying!"
" 'Tis the truth, Rhaenys," Viserys had shrugged," Father said so." Upon hearing his niece sniffle, Viserys had reached out to pat her dark curls. "Don't fret, little girl," Viserys had cooed to her, "I promise I'll wed you, and then you can be a dragon for sure!"
Rhaenys had run all the way to Mother, sobbing.
Mother had gathered her up in her arms and had rocked her tightly. "Is it because of me, Mother," She had asked her, "because of my dark skin? Am I not a dragon?"
Her mother had hugged her tightly then and had whispered, "Listen, my sweet, nobody would ever think you less than a dragon. A perfect fierce little dragon, that you are, but you are also of my blood, and you must be unbowed, unbent and unbroken."
That had been a week of farewells.
Grandmother first, with Viserys. "Be strong, my little one," she had whispered to her. She had had a bruise the size of a plum on her cheek.
Then it had been Uncle Lewyn. "To Dorne, my princess," he had told her when Rhaenys had asked him where he was off to, "to get a big, strong army to help your prince father in the war."
Lady Ashara had also left with him, to Dorne. Rhaenys had tugged her skirts. "When will you be back?" "Soon, my little princess," Lady Ashara had smiled, "Mayhaps I will return with a little friend to play with you as well." "Bring Ser Arthur along when you return!" Rhaenys had instructed her. Ser Arthur had left with her father. Rhaenys missed him as well, his big hands always full of sweetmeats for Rhaenys to pinch when her Septa had not been looking.
Lady Ashara's face had changed at that. "Would that I could, my princess, but he's off fighting the war."
The week after, Father had come back.
Rhaenys had waited for him in her lady mother's chambers. Mother had been sitting by the window since dawn, gazing at columns of shiny knights and neighing horses marching to the gates of the city.
"Rhaenys."
"Father!"
Mother had stood up. She had held Rhaenys's shoulders back with angry hands.
"My prince."
"Elia."
"How was Dorne, my prince? I trust the heat was to your taste?"
"Elia, I promise you, I will put it to right as soon as- "
"Your royal father has asked us to stay in King's Landing until the war runs its way, to keep us safe. Me, Rhaenys, Aegon. Have you seen your son, my prince? He grows bigger day by day."
"My lady, believe my words, you are my- "
"Rhaenys, my sweet, do go to the nursery. Your brother might wake anytime soon."
Rhaenys had slowly crept away from Mother before flinging herself in Father's arms.
"Is it true," She had panted, "that you have a new lady now? Will I be sent to Dorne?"
"Rhaenys, do go on- "
Father had knelt, had taken her hands in his own.
"No, Rhaenys," he had whispered. His eyes, so very like her own, had been shiny. "Would you leave your father alone in Dragonstone?"
"You left me alone."
"Rhaenys- "Mother's voice had held a warning note.
"My little love," Father sighed, "you will not understand now, but whatever I am doing now, 'tis for you and Aegon."
"And Visenya?"
"And Visenya too."
Father had smiled a sad smile. Rhaenys had heard Mother take in a sharp breath.
"Will you stay here now, Father?"
"Not for now, sweetling. Father has to go to war."
"Why is Lord Robert fighting you?"
"Rhaenys, leave the room, now!" Mother's voice had cracked like thunder.
Father had hugged her then, had given her a farewell kiss on her forehead.
"Be a good little lady, my love. Go on, now, the septa will take you to the nursery."
Rhaenys had complied, allowed the septa to lead her down the hall to the nursery. She had waited for a while, for the septa to nod off before she had slipped back into Mother's chambers. Father and Mother had been crying, wrapped in each other's arms.
"The prince is dead!"
A guard had thundered into the sept one day, where Rhaenys, Mother and a few ladies had been, praying for Father. There had been wailing, crying. Mother had gone white as a water lily.
Grandfather had become wroth once he had heard the news. Once he had even hissed at Rhaenys, like Balerion does when he falls into a puddle of water.
There had been black gowns and ringing bells. Rhaenys had crept beneath Father's bed then...
...like she was doing now, trying to call her Father back from the war to her side after which they can once again read books and weave prophecies.
"Hide!"
Mother had told her, only moments ago.
"Go and hide, my sweetling. You must be as brave as Uncle Lewyn and Ser Arthur now. Mother will join you soon, my sweet, once she goes and gets Aegon from the nursery."
Balerion mewed pitifully.
Where was Mother? Where was Father?
Rhaenys gave Balerion a sticky kiss between his ears.
Downstairs, she could hear shouts and thuds and steel crashing on steel.
"Where's the princess?"
The door suddenly fell open. Footsteps. Rhaenys curled into a ball, crushing Balerion into a ball. Balerion whimpered angrily into her neck.
"What- is this where that whore's son slept?"
Balerion gave a sudden pounce, hitting his skull on Rhaenys's chin. He ran out, snarling and hissing.
"What in the Seven- mad cat! Seven hells, it bit me!"
There was a sound of a slash and of fabric tearing. Balerion screamed.
"Balerion!" Rhaenys crawled out.
Balerion lay on the floor, screaming, blood pouring out of an eye.
"Give- give me my cat. Rhaenys demanded to the knight standing in the room.
"What is this now?" The knight demanded. He had a crimson cloak, and his surcoat was embroidered with a manticore. He held a bloody dagger in his right hand and his left hand was bleeding.
"Seven hells, you're the princess, aren't you?"
"Give me my cat back, or you will answer to my father." Rhaenys said. Brave as Uncle Lewyn and Ser Arthur.
"Go on now, take him," the knight shrugged. He held his cloak to his bleeding hand. "He's yours, girl."
"Balerion," Rhaenys had just started scrambling towards the tomcat when two great hands clamped down on her waist.
"Let me go!" Rhaenys screamed. "Father!"
"Oh, I'm not letting you run, you filthy dragonspawn," she heard the knight say. "Now, what say you? Pillows or walls?"
"Father!"
Rhaenys was squirming and wriggling, but the hands around her waist were iron.
"Father!"
They say Princess Rhaenys had still been screaming for her sire as she was beaten to death.