Rhaenys II

There was a vast field. It was lush and green. She walked and came upon three large seeds. They were black, but she could see specks of gold shine through. She reached a hand out, touching one of the seeds. Running her fingers across it, the black got wiped off easily. She did the same with the other two seeds and they too shone a bright and proud gold underneath the black soot.

A sudden yelp startled her the moment she finished cleaning the seeds. She turned around and gasped.

There, in front of her, was a large and grey wolf missing its head.

Fluid like water were the movements of her uncle and she tried to imitate them as he was going through his form. It was tedious work but the rewards she would reap in the end would be very much worth it.

The daughter of their neighbour, a girl of four years, watched them with wide eyes.

"Can I play too, Big Sister?" the little thing asked in Valyrian over the obscene moans and loud groans coming from an open window of her house. Her mother had a guest it seemed.

"This is no game, Nilira," Rhaenys answered, chuckling, but not breaking her concentration.

The girl pouted but went back to plucking patches of dried grass while humming a nonsensical tune.

A step. A thrust. A flourish. Retreat. Repeat.

And stop.

"I'm seeing improvement, Rhaenys," Uncle Oberyn said, his lush, black hair dancing in the gentle wind. "I will give you another two days to perfect this form."

She nodded, watching him take his spear inside before leaving with Ser Jorah, probably to collect wood again – her aunt was burning through it at alarming rates. They probably would go and see if there were any new letters for them as well.

She doubted she'd need the full two days her uncle had given her.

A waterskin was thrust in her face, startling her. Taking it, she glanced to her side, confirming that it had been Aegon.

Thinking of him by that name still drove barbed spikes into her heart, but she had to. For him and herself.

"Thank you, brother," she said and took greedy gulps.

He nodded at her with a smile and took his waterskin from her after she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Oberyn is very demanding," he noted.

"Even more demanding with me because he knows I will take every critique and barb as a challenge." She looked at him. "How is your training going?"

"Ser Jorah is an impressive swordsman and, compared to Oberyn, has eternal patience," he answered with a smile. "I do not make a lot of mistakes in our spars, but when I make one he takes the time to explain how and why I died at that exact moment."

"I see."

"I have yet to defeat him." He sounded a bit frustrated, which made her chuckle.

"He is a knight with years upon years of experience. You are but a boy. I'd be surprised if you ever came close to defeating him."

"But –"

"Curb your male pride, brother, and learn all you can from him."

He just scowled in return and she rolled her eyes.

This was their relationship. A fortnight had passed since their talk and, she had to admit, it wasn't so bad. Deep, deep down there still lingered all the ugly feelings, boiling in secret and waiting to erupt. Given time, however, she was sure she could form a strong bond with Aegon. Or Jon.

He wanted to keep both his names. Aunt Daenerys insisted on using his Valyrian name because of the weight and power it carried. Rhaenys was still not sure. They would both benefit from using his Valyrian name: he would benefit because it'd help to get him used to the idea of him being a Targaryen and she would benefit because she'd grow to accept the name on him. She still struggled with it.

Calling him brother was easier and she was, at least, growing to see him as such.

They went inside and she placed the spear on a makeshift rack they had fashioned from old wood, next to the others. She went to the tiny bathing chamber, her aunt already sitting in the small bath. The water was steaming, boiled in the fireplace as she usually did. There were no fragrant oils, a luxury Rhaenys missed, but she was not complaining. Some day in the future she could have all the bathes again, with all the Dornish oils she wanted.

"Could you do my back, Rhaenys?" her aunt asked.

She didn't answer and just grabbed the offered soap.

"How is your archery coming along?" Rhaenys asked her aunt.

"Painful," Aunt Daenerys said with a chuckle as she showed the blisters on the fingers of her release hand. "I finally hit the target, however, even though it was the very outer edge."

"Congratulations, Aunt Daenerys," Rhaenys said while giving her aunt's back a thorough scrubbing. "When I first saw you in Pentos, I never expected you to ever take a weapon in your hand," she admitted.

"Believe me, neither did I. Though I used to dream of it, as a little girl. I would dream of myself, riding a dragon to war and wielding a sword like a mighty warrior-queen."

"Like Queen Visenya I? I approve."

Her aunt hummed in thought. "I suppose. Though she was not very loved."

"For every ten nights Aegon the Conqueror spent with Queen Rhaenys I, he spent one with Queen Visenya, they say."

"Indeed. I cannot imagine what that must have been like for her."

"It could have been her wish."

"It could have." Her aunt then halted her hands with a smile. "Thank you, Rhaenys. I will be but a moment and the bath is yours."

Nodding, Rhaenys put the soap aside and began the preparations for her own bath.

Bathed, brushed and fed, her aunt, her brother and she were in the sitting room together. They had started to make it a habit to spend time together like this at Aunt Daenerys's behest. She understood. They needed to bond, to understand each other. They were the last of their names.

"What was life in Winterfell like?" their aunt asked Aegon while peeling the skin off an orange before putting a carpel in her mouth.

Rhaenys looked at him. She never bothered to ask. She never bothered to ask him anything personal at all and everything he shared had been because Aunt Daenerys had asked the questions. She felt a bit guilty. He hadn't been wrong when, a fortnight ago, he had said that he was the only one actively trying to work on their relationship.

"'Twas...honest." He thought for a moment. "In the north, people are blunt and, most of all, honest. They have no love for honeyed words and hidden meanings."

"Something I can appreciate, but it won't get you far in King's Landing," Rhaenys said. "Uncle Oberyn once told me that honesty means death in the Red Keep."

Her aunt appeared to be thinking her words over before continuing her questions. "And how was your relationship with your cousins?"

"We were close, but I was closest to Robb and Arya. I miss them dearly."

Smiling softly, her aunt reached over to squeeze his hand. "I shall be excited to meet them one day."

"And how did you spend your time in hiding, Rhaenys?" her aunt asked.

She shrugged. "I wasn't allowed to leave the Old Palace. I read and spent a lot of time with my cousins. I was closest to Tyene. She and my uncle taught me all I know about poisons."

"Poisons?" Her aunt sounded surprised.

"Uncle Oberyn travelled for a long time."

"He was in exile, no?" Aegon asked. "When Maester Luwin taught us about house Yronwood and the duel between Prince Oberyn and Lord Edgar Yronwood…"

Rhaenys had to smirk. Seeing her aunt's confusion and curiosity, she began to elaborate. "When my uncle was sixteen, he was found in bed with Lord Edgar's paramour." Her aunt looked scandalized, even with the rosy tinge colouring her cheeks, which made Rhaenys chuckle. "Lord Edgar demanded a duel for first blood. Both drew blood, but Lord Edgar's wound festered and he died a few days later. Many believe that Uncle Oberyn secretly used a poisoned blade."

Intrigued, her aunt leaned forward. "Did he?"

"No one but he knows and he isn't telling." She shrugged. "He was sent to Oldtown and Lys. No one called it so, but it was an exile."

"Such an interesting man, this uncle of yours."

Nodding at her aunt's words, she bit into a fig. "He's as shrewd as they come," she said after swallowing. "There's a reason Uncle Doran wanted him to accompany me."

"And good on him as well," her aunt said.

"How are you holding up, Aunt Daenerys?" Aegon asked her.

Cocking her head to the side, her aunt gave him a confused look. "What do you mean?"

"If I bring up bad memories, I apologize. I meant how you are holding up with Viserys's death. It has been near a month now and he has not been mentioned since."

Her brother wasn't wrong.

Aunt Daenerys's shoulders slumped and gone was the picture of the strong, young woman who had taken the reins of their family when neither she nor her brother could and would. In her place was the girl Viserys had beaten her into: small and insecure, a lost waif.

"I miss him," she said. "Sometimes I wonder if he attacked me in the hopes that I or someone else would kill him and free him of his misery."

"Mayhap," Aegon said and a few moments of silence followed.

"It is good to see you letting go of your animosities for each other," Aunt Daenerys said. "Treasure that which you already have and have yet to find in each other for it may be lost in an instant." She exhaled slowly, a sadness lingering around her. "He never was a bad man. I miss the loving brother he was beneath the anger and bitterness. Alas, I could not kill one without killing the other."

"I apologize, Aunt Daenerys," Aegon said.

"Whatever for?" She smiled at him with a shake of her head. "It is...good to talk about these things with people I can trust. It is good to be able to share these pains with family."

"I – we – know that you've taken up a lot of responsibility because of Aegon and me, but if you ever need to talk you can come to either of us," Rhaenys said, speaking for her brother as well.

He nodded in agreement.

It made her heart skip a beat and made her smile because, in its insignificance, it was such a significant moment for them. Aegon probably didn't even realize it and maybe she was overinterpreting it, but wasn't this a tiny, little sibling moment for them? She, the elder sister, spoke for her little brother and he agreed immediately and without hesitation. A moment of silent communication and understanding.

Granted, she had had no experience with actual sibling relationships until now and his agreement should be a given, but still. She felt...she felt that it was an important moment between them. Fleeting, gone as quickly as it came, but important.

Her aunt smiled at her for this, as if she knew, as if she understood. She smiled back.

Then, as if she wanted to move the conversation forward and raise the atmosphere, Aunt Daenerys sat straighter again, her posture immaculate and that aura, which allowed her to tower over them, was back again. She smiled at them, looked at them with something akin to pride and contentment; as if she saw something in them that made her feel the way she did.

"Have we grown on you yet, Aegon?" Aunt Daenerys then asked, leaning forward with her elbows on the table and her chin propped up on her folded hands. Her expression was expectant and a bit playful, a teasing smile on her lips – something Rhaenys could absolutely understand.

She looked at Aegon with a raised brow and a small smile herself.

"I enjoy spending time with you a lot, Aunt Daenerys. And I do so even with you, Rhaenys."

Aunt Daenerys had to giggle. "Now that was a diplomatic answer if I have ever seen one." Shaking her head, still giggling, she pointed a finger at him. "I have no experiences with politicking at all, but keep this up and you will make a great diplomat."

"Thanks to you, we won't even need an army to usurp the Usurper," Rhea said with a grin. "You'll just talk him into giving us our throne back."

Aegon laughed softly and shook his head. What surprised her was that he didn't say anything about her talking of the throne. He probably just wanted to avoid a heated discussion with them, but still. He didn't frown, he didn't grow silent. Instead, he laughed with them.

But, despite all of their talk – with 'their talk', she meant Aunt Daenerys and her – there was an always lingering question, a constant that never went away and would remain until they had something real at hand.

"Assuming we reach the point where we say 'this is it, we will now make our move' – what will we even do?" she asked Aunt Daenerys and Aegon. "We can buy sellswords with Aegon's money, but then? We could get in contact with some loyalists here and there, but would that even be enough? How many loyalists would there even be? My mother's side, fine. But beyond that? How far is the lap–"

"Stop calling him that!" Aegon interrupted her with an angry hiss and a furious glare. "He has risked everything for me and lost more than most during the rebellion, his alliance notwithstanding!"

Rhaenys held up her hands placatingly. This was not the discussion they needed to have right now, no matter how much she wanted it. "Fine. I apologize. My point stands, however: how far is Lord Stark willing to go for us? He protected Aegon, sent him here to stop Aunt Daenerys from being sold and to unite all of us, but what now? I doubt he would support us in a war for the throne."

Her Aunt looked at her brother. "Aegon? What do you think? Is her assessment of your uncle accurate?"

Her brother, still with a frown on his face because of her, nodded. "Assuming I have agreed to all of this, for whatever reason that may be, he would try to talk me out of it before he would even think about raising his banners for us."

Her aunt got up from her pillow and went to the dragon eggs resting in the fireplace. Rhaenys watched her as she crouched and ran her fingers over them. The silence stretched and stretched and she wasn't sure how much time had passed before her aunt finally spoke up.

"We need an army. We all know this. More than that, however, we need dragons." She turned to look at them.

Aegon coughed and Rhaenys shifted in discomfort.

"They are...extinct, Aunt Daenerys," Aegon said carefully. "Have been for a while now."

She hadn't forgotten about her talk with her aunt and how she believed the eggs to carry life. The thought, however, was too unbelievable for her to even entertain.

"Do you trust me?" Aunt Daenerys asked. "Either of you – do you trust me?"

The question wasn't asked in a way that was curious or vulnerable. It wasn't asked in a way that would make Aunt Daenerys seem insecure.

No, her aunt asked the question in a way that showed that she already knew the answer.

"Aye. I trust you." Aegon didn't hesitate.

Neither did she. "With my life, Aunt Daenerys." It was a big statement to make, but it was the truth.

Their aunt nodded, but her face bore no expression. "Then trust me in this: I know that these eggs are not dead. I can feel it. I do not know how to quicken them, but I do know that there is a way."

"Let's say – just in theory – these eggs hatch. What then? We have three hatchlings. What can we do with them? They'll have to grow."

"We must not be impatient," her aunt said. "I, too, would reclaim that which belongs to the Targaryen name today rather than tomorrow. But I know that it cannot be. We must understand that we need time. Possibly years."

"Of course. What we want cannot be achieved in weeks or even months. Gold, an army of tens of thousands of men, allies – I am prepared to wait," Rhaenys said. "As long as everything the Lannisters and Baratheons hold dear gets burned to the ground I will wait however long it takes."

Her aunt smiled. "And when the eggs hatch, the dragons will get the time they need to grow into magnificence."

'When'. She didn't say 'if'. Aunt Daenerys said 'when' they hatch. She was so sure of these eggs. Rhaenys couldn't decide whether she should shed her scepticism or worry about her aunt. Obsession with dragon eggs and getting them to hatch had cost the Targaryen family a lot.

"This is what I propose," her aunt then said with a tone of finality. "Hatching the eggs, building an army and growing the hatchlings while we do so."

"It sounds unbelievable, Aunt Daenerys," Rhaenys said with a slow shake of her head. "We cannot bet on the eggs. We need a plan that does not include them. And I trust you," she hastily added as her Aunt was ready to retort with a glare, "I genuinely do. But trusting in you hatching dragon eggs turned stone is too much to ask. We don't even know where to begin."

"I suppose I am demanding much," her aunt relented, looking a bit disappointed. "But I know I am right. I know there is life in them. I can feel it."

Rhaenys stood up, walked to her aunt by the fireplace and her eggs and grabbed one of her hands between hers. "And if you do hatch them I will beg for your forgiveness on my knees."

Her aunt raised a brow at that. "I will remember these exact words."

"That's fine," Rhaenys said, glancing at the three scaly eggs sitting in the cooling fireplace, "and I want to believe you when you say that these things can be hatched, but...I cannot and will not bet on this. That is simply too much you ask, Aunt Daenerys."

"...I understand."

When she sat back down, she watched her brother. He looked like he'd rather be anywhere but here with them, discussing their next steps and hatching dragon eggs turned stone. She wished he had contributed, said anything at all, but even though she had been glad about his lack of silence during their teasing earlier, she was now saddened to see that she had been glad too soon.

She wondered just what they needed to say or do to convince him, to get him to fully commit to them.

Another week had passed. They resumed their training, following it with a dedication she was sure either grown man had rarely seen before. She couldn't say what drove Aegon to train with such intensity, considering he had yet to commit to the Targaryen name and the Iron Throne.

This evening, after they had cleaned themselves and sat down together by the sitting room's table to have their now daily conversations, Ser Jorah returned from his daily trip to the harbour, to see if their trusted merchant had a letter from the King's Hand for them. His grim expression said that he had.

"My Prince. It appears I have been right after all," he said when handing Aegon the letter, its seal already broken. "I wish I was not. There was an assassination attempt. Your crippled brother was the target. It is clear now that he saw something he should not have seen."

Aunt Daenerys immediately moved closer to Aegon, who was shaking violently as he read the letter. She sat down next to him and had an arm slung over his shoulder, combing her fingers through his long, thick, black locks. Once he was finished, he tossed the letter onto the table and just slumped into their aunt, his face disappearing into her neck.

Rhaenys, unsure at first, inched closer to her brother as well. She wrapped an arm around his midriff and leaned into his side. He didn't react, but he didn't need to. She knew he understood and that was what was important.

She knew he understood that she was there for him, that she did not wish for him to suffer the same agony she had, all those years ago and every day since then.

"I should've been there," she heard him mutter into their aunt's neck.

"Your brother would have still fallen and the assassin would have still been sent. There would have been nothing you could have done to prevent these events, my Prince. At least your brother has not been harmed."

Aegon didn't react.

Neither did her aunt nor did she.

But for the first time in her life, Rhaenys feared for the Starks.