Rhaenyra is still as her sons hesitate to answer her question, her eyes fixed on their sister. Vissie is leaning against Helaena, a bruise forming along her temple, the skin slightly broken, and her mother is frozen with horror.
Her question hangs heavy in the air, pinning everyone to their places, until her daughter says, "They said I have a dragon, Muña." At her words, a dam is broken in Rhaenyra, and she races to Vissie, heart pounding and mouth dry as her mind whirls.
It could not have been a hatchling, she thinks, wiping at the little blood stain on her firsborn's face, She would have had to keep it with her at all times, and she would have been found out. Rhaenyra lifts up Vissie's chin and scans her face for injury. My daughter, only seven, with a dragon grown. By the gods, she could have been killed! She could have been killed…
Distantly, the Princess of Dragonstone can feel her husband beside her and hear her father roaring at courtiers to leave them. In the back of her mind, she registers his rage and wonders who it is aimed at. Her primary concern, however, is her child. Once she is sure Vissie is not harmed, she swings to face her half-brother.
"How dare you," Rhaenyra snarls, "How dare you insult my family beneath mine own roof!"
Aemond's lip curls and his bitch of a mother places a hand on his shoulder, her eyes narrowed. "If you have not forgotten, Rhaenyra, Aemond is your family as well. Or are you so reluctant to admit he is such?"
The Princess of Dragonstone sees red. The nerve of you, she fumes, I am not your childrens' blood when you are furthering your Hightower agenda, but the moment you need me to be, we are some happy, united family. You don't get to claim that. Not after you betrayed me and I had to grow up looking for daggers in the dark.
Rhaenys snorts at Alicent's words and Corlys' eyes furrow. Laenor goes to hold her hand and Uncle Daemon half-rises from his seat until-
"Enough!" Father booms. Rhaenyra tenses. He is sitting stiffly, hand clenching his goblet so tightly his knuckles are white. His face is red, both from anger and wine if she had to guess, and his eyes snap frantically from his daughter to his wife. Father is a good man, a jolly man, and he has not been truly furious in many years. The last time was when he discovered Daemon deflowered her. Looking at him now, Rhaenyra sees the steel he so rarely draws upon, the Targaryen madness in his eyes. It's ridiculous that as a woman grown at three-and-twenty, with children of her own and a seat upon Dragonstone and a beast that takes her soaring through the skies, she is afraid. But here she is, sweat beading down her forehead, swallowing hard and praying that her lord father's rage is not directed at her and hers.
"I came here to visit my newest grandchild and to celebrate the new year," Father growls, "Not to see my wife and my firstborn rip at each other's throats-" and Rhaenyra winces as she remembers, suddenly, how much he hates when the royal schism is undisguised before him- "Not to see my grandsons flying at my son to defend my granddaughter's honor!"
Father rises and they all follow in suit, even Daemon, whose eyes hold barely disguised amusement. The children are all whimpering, unused to seeing him so wroth, and he stumbles out of the hall drunkenly.
"Wait, my love!" Alicent calls after him, disappearing around the corner. Her children hesitate for a moment before following.
Rhaenyra sighs heavily and leans against Laenor, all the energy leaving her body. As Daemon takes Baela and Rhaena away and Corlys and Rhaenys carry Aemon to the nursery to give her and Laenor space to discipline their three eldest in private, Vissie, Luke, and Joff shift uncomfortably. She pours herself a goblet of wine. "You," she points to the three of them, "Are going to tell me when Vissie acquired her dragon, which one she claimed, and why you thought it was a good idea to hide this from me. Now." She is too tired to shout, but her skin burns, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, and it must show in her voice because her daughter pales rapidly.
Good.
.
.
Rhaenyra wants to slap her children. She wants to take them by the shoulders and shake them until their teeth rattle. She wants to take a book and beat them over the heads until some sense makes its way through their thick skulls and they never do anything as brave or foolish ever again. Based on Laenor's tension, he feels the same.
"You. Claimed. Vhagar." Her words are said quietly, barely more audible than a mutter, but Vissie, Luke, and Joff all flinch back.
"Yes, Muña," her daughter's voice shakes.
"You, a girl of seven years, claimed the last dragon left of the Conquest, the most formidable of her kind, and snuck out to go flying with her regularly. And your brothers, when they discovered this, kept your secret for moons."
"... Yes, Muña."
Rhaenyra opens her mouth, closes it, and then buries her head in her hands. Beside her, her husband sighs deeply.
"While we admire your loyalty to your sister," he says to Luke and Joff, "There is a time and place for such things. All three of you could have gotten seriously injured."
Their sons exchange frightened looks while their daughter's brow furrows. "I would not have let Vhagar hurt them," she says, "And besides, they only went with me once." But still, there is a guilt in her voice.
"There is nothing you could have done if she had decided to harm them, sweetling," the Princess of Dragonstone keeps her tone gentle. Vissie doesn't look happy, but dips her head in assent.
An idea forms in Rhaenyra's mind, so sudden she believes it to be a miracle. A stroke of genius. She is not a fool. She knows the impact a second Visenya riding Vhagar will have. "My Lord," she says to her husband, "Will you take our sons and settle them down for bed? I have something I wish to discuss with our daughter." Laenor eyes her for a moment, gaze curious, but eventually nods.
"We must speak later," he whispers before he goes. She nods in acknowledgement, he kisses her cheek and Vissie's forehead and leaves them with Luke and Joff in tow.
"Muña?" her daughter cocks her head. Rhaenyra smooths the hair across her brow and draws her close.
"Listen to me closely, Vissie, and listen to me well. You wish to prove Aemond wrong, correct?" Her daughter nods. "Yes, yes, I know that to be true. So. Here is what you're going to do…"
.
.
.
As Laenor requested, Rhaenyra speaks with him. He knocks on her chambers and when she calls for him to enter, he sits at the edge of her bed and balls his hands to fists, smoothing the creases along his forehead with his knuckles. "So my daughter has my sister's dragon," he says, "A dragon she could have died claiming. And we didn't know about this until it was told to us. How could that happen?"
"It is ridiculous," Rhaenyra agrees, "I shall have the servants and guards who looked over her dismissed by morning." She watches her husband carefully, sees the helpless rage in his eyes, and wonders how long he was bottling it up for. Did he not wish to frighten the children?
"I don't know how to feel about Vissie having Laena's dragon," Laenor admits. "On the one hand, I feel proud. So proud. My daughter, claiming the most powerful of the dragons. On the other, I feel as if it was too soon. Laena has only been dead a year."
If she had not been so swift to claim Vhagar, Aemond might already be riding her, Rhaenyra thinks waspishly. Then shame floods through her at the thought. She is relieved, she realizes, that the Blacks have not lost a major asset. She is relieved that her half-brother and his wretch of a mother do not control the most powerful of the dragons. She has already devised a plan-
"Children often do not consider these things," Rhaenyra says, just to distract herself, "And as intelligent as she may be, you know it is the Father's honest truth that she is still very much a child. Whatever pushed Vissie to Vhagar, her intention was never to bring Laena dishonor." This conversation is too reminiscent of the last time something of Laena's had moved to other hands too quickly, and it makes her squirm.
"You are right," Laenor sighs, "You are right. I should not be so quick to judge." He stands, squeezes her hand, and says:
"I am spending the night with the children tonight. You are free to join us."
Rhaenyra hesitates for a moment, thinking of what Alicent and her Greens will say, before remembering the terror she felt earlier. Before remembering Laenor is just as miserable as her. She smiles tiredly.
"Give me a few minutes to change out of this dress. We can go together."
.
.
.
It is time. As the sun rises steadily and Rhaenyra mounts Syrax, her hands are clammy and sweat drips down her back. Laenor climbs upon Seasmoke, and Rhaenys upon Meleys. Both mother and son are frowning at her, and she winces.
"You should have told us of this plan of yours ahead of time," her goodmother hisses quietly, and her son voices his agreement.
"I formed it last night, and it is too late now to go back," the Princess of Dragonstone whispers, "My apologies will have to suffice." A distance away, Aegon is readying Sunfyre, who is now old enough to ride, and Helaena saddles Dreamfyre. Daemon is already circling overhead upon Caraxes.
When Father heard Rhaenyra had felt so terribly about the night before, how she'd wanted to put all of it behind her and make amends on dragonback, he'd leapt at the opening he'd seen. Now Luke and Joff and Daeron are sitting by a fire with Baela and Rhaena, Arrax, Tyraxes, and Tessarion curled beside them.
"Where is the Princess Visenya?" Alicent Hightower inquires. Her tone is light but her eyes glint with malice, and Rhaenyra bristles.
"She was not feeling well," she replies stiffly, "And so the Maester deemed it important for her to stay in bed."
The Queen smiles smugly, and Aemond says, "I suppose she hasn't got a dragon after all." Luke and Joff bolt to their feet, and Baela is swift to follow. Rhaena scowls.
You don't have a dragon! Rhaenyra rages.
"Aemond, enough!" Father snarls, his features twisting, and she watches in satisfaction as her half-brother flinches back.
"Let us fly," she says, and snaps Syrax's whip. The wind rushes through her hair and snaps at her cheeks, and she laughs. Laenor and Rhaenys follow her lead and so does Helaena. It takes Aegon another moment, but then he's aloft as well.
Rhaenys and Meleys surge up to meet Daemon and Caraxes. Laenor keeps Seasmoke beside Rhaenyra. Helaena shrieks with glee as Dreamfyre flips and twists in the air, and Aegon urges Sunfyre to do the same. Rhaenyra frowns as their party begins to split. I need them all here. I need everyone to bear witness to this.
Luckily, Rhaenys seems to have the same idea. Gently, she begins to corral Rhaenyra's half-siblings back closer to her. Servants and courtiers alike cheer from the ground, voices filled with fear and awe at the sight of the lords of the skies.
Then, a deafening roar cuts through the air.
The Princess of Dragonstone hides a smile.
Everyone turns to where it came from, and then the yard goes silent. Green-and-bronze scales flash as an enormous beast, larger than any of the other dragons, surges towards them, form rapidly growing. Vhagar's shadow covers countless people, and as she throws her head back, her curled horns, combined with the sight of the red scales of Caraxes above her, make the image of two sickles against a backdrop of blood.
Vissie's hair is braided like her namesake's, and she wears no Velaryon colors today, only the red-and-black of House Targaryen. She looks like the first Visenya come again in her riding leathers, with Luke's dagger at her hip and a silver circlet upon her brow and the sigil of House Targaryen emblazoned on her saddle, not like a little girl riding a dragon too fierce for her.
As murmurs break out amongst the highborn and baseborn alike, Rhaenyra finally allows a grin to steal across her face. Well done, she thinks. Raising her head up, her eyes meet her daughter's. They gleam with triumph.
.
.
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A/N: Sorry guys, I know this was a short chapter again. I have a lot going on in my life with school and family, and I had to rewrite this chapter like three times until I was finally satisfied with it. We have about two-to-three chapters left till a time jump. It's only a couple years, so don't worry: the Dance doesn't kick off right after this. That'd be a pacing nightmare.