Hi every body! I hope you are all well and happy to see a new chapter! I know I am kind of late in publishing it, and I am really, really sorry, guys for my inconsistence. I will be honest with you, the chapter had been written actually early in the past week, but editing has been a little hard to do, well, mostly finding the time to do it has been harder. A charged week you know? Especially with the 14th of july (our national holiday here in France) etc...BUT! I promise, the next chapter will be up this week, as usual!

Also! If you want to see what I imagine Rhaenys to look like, head to my profile I have a link there!

That said, I wish you all to enjoy this new chapter entirely focused on the moments after the meeting between Rhaenys and Daenerys!

Disclaimer: None of this, apart from the plot and some new introduced ideas and concepts, are mine. The rights of the greatness that is ASOIF and GOT solely belong to the evil genius GRRM and HBO for their awesome adaptation.

Good read!


Rhaenys Targaryen sat in front of her, across the slowly burning pyre they lit as night fell on the remote part of the forest they landed on. Rhaenys Targaryen. Her presumed dead niece. Rumored to have been butchered mercilessly by the 'Ser' Gregor Clegane, the so-called Mountain, in front of her agonizing mother, as King's Landing was being sacked by the Rebellion forces, the Lannisters in particular.

Her mesmerizing deep lavender eyes gazed at her fixedly, her expression cool and collected, and Dany forced herself not to fidget under the strength of her stare. Her beauty as astounding and extraordinary as everybody had imagined it would become had she had the opportunity to grow up. The perfect mixture of the old blood of the Rhoynar and Valyria. She was effectively creating fierce competition against her in the road to winning the title of most fair woman in the world. And, unexpectedly she did survive against everybody's previous belief.

Daenerys would not know how to describe her feelings if someone asked right at that moment. A torrent of emotions poured out of her. Confusion. Anger. Anxiousness. Fear. Guilt. Doubt. Jealousy. And those were only a few of them all, the easily recognizable ones. Those she was the most acquainted with. What was she indeed supposed to feel? She wondered... Relief? Immediately, she scoffed internally at the thought.

However, against her will, in some peculiar, useless way she did. She was not alone anymore. She had surviving family, a blood connection with another living person. Someone that could perhaps support her, maybe even love and respect her one day… Of course, those thoughts were immediately chased out by the vicious memories of Viserys, his scorn and violence, what he taught her family was in their bloodline, their world: a means to an end, without foolish womanly dreams of love and warmth.

And that end, that objective she had fought for, prepared for, trained for was suddenly challenged so easily and swiftly by the very same woman looking calmly at her. The slight relief she had felt for a few instants had been shoved away by the realization that Rhaenys was actually the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. Not her. All her goals and ambitions, all her battles and losses, her very dreams had been stolen so quickly, made vain and cheap. And she dared look at her with all the calm in the world as she destroyed everything?!

Daenerys was the daughter of the Mad King, certainly. She was a Princess, even if her parentage did not really give her an advantage, considering madness was thought to be hereditary, it seemed. But Rhaenys' father, was Rhaegar Targaryen, the Crown Prince, the loved and acclaimed silver haired prince, crazily and tragically in love with the wrong woman. Therefore, the succession being passed through the male lines thanks to the so great laws of the sexes, her niece was the true Targaryen heir. Even her age gave her an advantage considering she was a few years older than the silver haired Meereen Queen.

All those thoughts churned and danced endlessly in her mind since the very moment Rhaenys introduced herself to her. Such nonchalance, confidence and charisma exuded from her that she could not have even dreamed at that instant to contest her claimed identity. Daenerys swallowed sourly at the memory, a sneer worming its way to stretch her face. "Hello, Daenerys" she had said as easily as if she was addressing a mere woman in the streets and not a Khaleesi, a Conqueror, a Queen, "I am pleased to meet you, Aunt. Allow me to introduce myself formally, I am Rhaenys Targaryen."

Daenerys fought with herself to regain a semblance of calmness, and poise. She could not act like a lowly peasant, She, was a Queen. Countenance, grace and confidence were the key words she had to learn painfully to be an esteemed royal figure. She would not allow herself to lose everything she had worked so hard to acquire, to just slip between her fingers because of a mere girl claiming to be her niece. Without even presenting anything in order to support her word.

"How do I know you really are who you are introducing yourself to be? Show me proof! Young I may be, but I am not a gullible woman you can so easily twirl around to personal whims and fantasies. So appetizing is the prospect of royalty and power, that I would not be surprised to learn you are nothing but another Imposter, Usurper!" She controlled her voice as much as possible, trying to sound commanding but not arrogant, trying to not let pass through the insecurities. Trying being the key world, tragically for her confidence and aura.

The beautiful woman sitting with more comfort than she thought a simple log could ever provide, only looked at her, poised and self assured, and let a small smirk tear her lips. Moments after, she even dared to chuckle! Daenerys felt a black curtain of anger and affront slam itself down in front of her eyes. Rage submerged her. It exuded form her very core and glided out of every pore on her body.

"Tell me! Show me! Do you not know who I am? I am Daenerys Targaryen, the Stormborn, the Unburnt, Mother of Dragons, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains, Queen of Meereen and Princess of Dragonstone! Answer me or the consequences will be dire I assure you!"

Indeed, Daenerys has never been known for her patience and passiveness, that one had tired itself out under Viserys' viciousness. She was impulsive, full of blood of fire. Anger could not be contained sometimes even by normal lowly men and even less so by those of the blood of the dragon, and after all she went through with only the sight of the woman so daringly mounting one of her precious children, as if she had the right to do so, she could not be composed anymore. She was just about to allow herself another shout and ramble when Rhaenys' rudeness once again appeared by interrupting her.

"Such pretty titles you acclaim yourself with, and yet, do they really belong to you, dear Aunt Daenerys?"

The Khaleesi gaped at the daring woman speaking so calmly and matter of fact-ly. As if the discussed theme was only the weather!

Nevertheless, with only those few words, Rhaenys brought forth one of the emotions she tried with all her might to shove away for what seemed like an eternity now, maybe even the most important one: helplessness. Her old demon she shoved daily out of her mind.

Daenerys felt despair invade her because of such a tiny sentence in the greater scale, yet it shattered her last hope. The hope that even if Rhaenys had at first grown up in the Red Keep, and then, just as her, in the vast Essos continent, she would have remained clueless about the functioning of their monarchy, about her rightful claim to the Iron Throne. She had hoped that her already tedious chances of reconquering Westeros would not be further destroyed by her niece.

She had hoped Rhaenys would reveal herself to be only a simple minded girl, the embodiment of the image every man thought women should be: meek and malleable, clueless about important matters of the states, without any real knowledge except embroidery and faith. She guessed, in hindsight, that the woman flying away from Asshaï, the City of Shadows, would only prove those dreams to only be fickle and demeaning concerning Rhaenys Targaryen.

Instead, she was met with the perfect figure and description of a Queen: beautiful, intelligent, strong and poised. Everything Daenerys had tortuously worked on herself to achieve.

Anger now came back with viciousness and mixed itself with the hopelessness. How?! Why?!

Rhaenys looked at her impassively, as if not even slightly disturbed by the loss of composure her aunt showed off. Daenerys could see in her eyes that not an ounce of surprise had come through, it seemed like the older woman expected it from her, as if she knew her intimately beforehand, and it did nothing to calm the influx of negative emotions endlessly churning already in her.

Her eyes squinted at the graceful figure sitting calmly in front of her. Daenerys tried to shush the dark feelings in her, tried to regain calm and poise, but every time she glanced at the deep lavender eyes looking at her, they violently fought back for control. This struggle with her own emotions, and thoughts is new to her. At least, the extent of its power and its darkness. Before, she had always had a hard time figuring out how to remain impassive in face of fear and doubt, now it was against rage and despair she fought against, and the rumble in her mind was consequently much louder.

As if sensing her boiling point coming, Rhaenys interrupted her, again, with a serene tone in her lulling soft husky voice.

"Please, calm yourself. You need not focus uselessly this negativity on me. I am not the one that can claim the throne you wrongly thought was rightfully yours."

"What?!" Daenerys exclaimed immediately, without thinking or any hope of possibly containing herself. She was dumbfounded and somehow (she would not have thought it possible…) even more angry. "Who?! Who steals what is by right mine from me if not you, my declared niece?! Fire and Blood will be unleashed on them without an ounce of mercy!"

Rhaenys only smiled somehow bitterly, and did not answer immediately to her demanding questions. Instead, she smoothly stood up and prepared the bigger fur she took with her next to the fire. She even allowed herself the right to ignore her and go to Rhaegal and caress the top of his head, again as if she had any right to do so. Only then did she deem it enough and decided to act like she should in front of a person of Daenerys' rank and prestige, by quietly going back to her makeshift cot and finally replying to her. As if she did not torment the younger woman with her actions only moments before.

"I will answer on the morrow, do not fear, Aunt. However, I think it would be much careful to sleep now, for the night is dark and vows to be short. Tomorrow awaits us with a long tedious journey and the shadow people and their sorcerers want to capture not only the dragons but us too. Putting as much distance between us and them as possible is very much necessary, I fear."

And before Daenerys even had the time to absorb the amount of information she had just been delivered with, Rhaenys lied down and closed her eyes while murmuring a soft "Good night".

Daenerys observed, bewildered, the outrageous woman falling to sleep so peacefully and swiftly. Did she dare not answer her?! Did she hear her clearly giving her orders, as if she had all the rights to do so?!

Without knowing she mimicked the previous actions of her niece, and made some what of a cot with her thicker robes and set herself down too. Her mind contemplating and going around in circles with everything that happened in only one day.

Tyrion's arrival the day before with an obscure suggestion from some suspicious oracle woman saying to go to the east (and she only heeded the recommendation seeing the Imp's determination confidence, also the memory of Quaithe's words in Quarth 'to reach the west you must go east' helped her finalize her decision).

Her tedious reunion with her favorite child, Drogon. How hard it had been to implore him to please take her to her mysterious destination. How he had burned two of her guards alive when she had first tried to mount him.

Then, the exhilarating feeling of flying through the airs, feeling the wind caress her hair while the sun warmed her skin.

The long taxing journey, high in the airs, over seas, cities and deserted lands. Where wonderment about the speed and light-headedness from the rushed blended seamlessly.

And finally the event that changed everything for her: meeting Rhaenys as she flew on Rhaegal's back without any effort, as if it was the most easy and natural thing in the world. Learning that her purpose in life was vain and hopeless, without any hope of ever succeeding.

And, with those troubling thoughts, the former Targaryen heir, Daenerys the Stormborn, fell asleep with a silent tear that she had vainly fought against for a long while now, sliding down her soft pale cheek. Leaving the problematic reality for the morrow and happily going instead in the land of dreams where warmth, love, family and success still existed for her and were not chastised by hurtful memories.


Daenerys woke up, grungy and a little bit confused about her whereabouts, with the soft sounds of feet and rustles of the furs. The crisp air of the morning at the same time numbed her body and made her regain her consciousness from its playful cold bite.

Slowly, she sat up from her hard makeshift cot composed of only slightly thicker materials than her thin dress, and looked around her. She saw a silver gold haired woman, tan skin and beautiful deep amethyst eyes, moving in their tentative encampment, and suddenly, the events of the day before all came rushing back to the forefront of her mind.

She had, for a moment, hoped vainly that it had only been some kind of fantasy nightmare taking its roots from insecurities and deep, unrevealed fears. That it had only been a figment of her imagination ('such a foolish dreamer you are little sister, do not wake the dragon!' Viserys' words echoed even years after his death in that instant). Yet, before her stood the figure of her niece, older than her but still, regal and seemingly wise collecting her scattered belongings and storing carefully some obscure plants in a small pot.

As if aware that she was the subject of her thoughts, Rhaenys turned around and looked at her questioningly. Then, she called out to her: "I am afraid it is due time to wake and go quickly. Rhaegal is agitated, and he showed me sightings of approaching fast ships. We have to hurry!"

Daenerys, her mind still in the fuzziness of lingering sleepy dreams, did not comprehend every thing her niece told her. Nevertheless, she understood the most important matter: they had to fly quickly away from some assailants. And, even if escape is not a method Daenerys Targaryen usually condoned, a remembrance from the previous evening where the subject of sorcerers desiring their dragons had been discussed, quickly convinced her to, again, heed Rhaenys' suggestion.

They assembled their possessions and cleaned out their makeshift base in a tense and worried silence. Bags were repacked swiftly, furs collected and stored away and clothes rearranged to appear slightly more proper.

When they were both ready and packed to go, the two of them turned to each of their mounts, not without an angry and slightly bitter look from Daenerys in Rhaenys' direction. The daughter of the Mad King already held apprehension at the idea of begging Drogon to let her ride on his back. She had done it without a problem the day before in front of her subjects and counselors in Meereen, knowing that even if she begged him, Drogon was still a much feared dragon, and his presence by her side guaranteed her that some fear would always linger in the simpler people.

However, the mere thought of doing so in front of Rhaenys, a woman that had already with only few sentences destroyed her entire certitudes and plans, filled her with revulsion, anger, and begrudgingly, fear.

Just as she succeeded in pushing aside her pride and walked resolutely towards the black dragon, the prospect of sorcery not one she relished in meeting again, Daenerys felt even more frustration and anger rise in her when she saw Rhaenys straddle without any effort the green dragon. Not a word of supplication told. Not one look of pleading. Not one fearful pat on the dragon's snout. She was bewildered, her mouth without doubt hanging ungracefully a little open, by the ease and fluidity of the movement in which the other Targaryen rose on her mount's back.

Her niece, Rhaenys, captured the look of surprise she was giving her and gazed at her questioningly. She contemplated her aunt and her own previous actions, and, finally, opened her mouth.

"Why do you seem so surprised by me mounting Rhaegal? Are you not aware that we are bonded? Were you believing only you could make a link with them?" she asked her, not really spitefully but with still a bite in her tone.

Daenerys, even if slight shame and frustration irrupted from her lack of knowledge, was still a little glad that for once, Rhaenys did not seem to know and predict everything. Finally, she seemed at least by a mere fraction more reachable and less perfect. However, her satisfaction did not effectively quench her surprise, nor answer the exponential amount of questions raising in her mind, one after the other, in regards to everything she had encountered in the short time she had been in the other woman's presence.

"Bonded?" she further questioned, her voice a little weak and breathy.


At that particular moment, Rhaenys realized that even if the now Queen of Meereen, then only Khaleesi, had been the one to rekindle the magic in the dragon's eggs with the present time and land, thanks to the esoteric power of a funeral pyre (only heightened by the presence of a sorceress in it), Daenerys did not, in fact, know what, nor how, she did that, or how to link herself with her bond mate. Was she even aware of the existence of bonds? She wondered with a passing thought.

But, judging by her question, it seemed not. She guessed, after reflecting a little bit, that the black dragon had only allowed her aunt to mount him because of their already existing connection (she considered herself 'Mother of dragons' after all, even if the idea was purely ludicrous) and the potential link they would hopefully acquire in the not so distant future. His affection and loyalty that lived since his hatching for her, worked perfectly to her benefit. And she told Daenerys so too.

"Daenerys, please do not anger yourself from the words I will speak. It seems you do not know much about dragons even if you helped the three remaining ones to hatch. Drogon, I think, only allowed you to ride him because of existing affections and loyalty. But, I promise to enlighten you as soon as possible. However, for now, time is slowly running out I fear. The ships coming from Asshaï are not far from the coast and it will be much easy for them to incapacitate us if we are on the same soil as them."

Seeing Daenerys' doubtful and frustrated look, Rhaenys sighed. She did not expect her reunion with her aunt to be easy nor trustful immediately. But they really were pressed by the time and those discussions would have to be postponed to a later date and different location.

"I beg of you to listen, I know you do not have to, nor really have the desire to, but trust me in this matter. The shadowbinders and sorcerers that will soon reach the Island we are on, are not ones to be trifled with. They are experts in their domains, and their prowess is grand, even in the City of Shadows they are feared. And, unfortunately for us, they are much determined to acquire not only living dragons, but also two members of the almost entirely eradicated blood of Old Valyria, blood of the dragon. We have to go, escape from their reach, fast!"

Rhaenys saw that some mistrust and doubts still lingered on her aunt's face and eyes, but she seemed to actually hear the not entirely concealed desperation and fear lacing her hurried voice. She nodded after a slight moment of hesitation and returned to Drogon's side.

The younger Targaryen once again allowed herself to spontaneously show on her face surprise at the immediate movement of the black dragon. He had instantly lowered his head and remained calm as Daenerys rose on his back, a bag in her hand.

They did not waste time any further and both of the dragons moved their wings as hard and fast as they could, at the same time. Their brotherly bond making them synchronous in some circumstances, apparently.

As they were flying away from the rich green woods they had rested for the night in, Rheanys verified with Rhaegal's vision that the five ships she had seen and that woke her up, were well being distanced by their rapid flight. No sounds were emitted, only looks of contemplation were given. The last words they had exchanged, the promise of enlightenment and bonding, still on both of their minds. Rhaenys only hoped that the youngest living Targaryen will be willing to listen, calmly.


So, what did you think? Did you like this 100% female Targaryen chapter?

As always, please feel free to point out grammatical or spelling errors, inaccuracies, by the way of reviews. Also, review too to simply let me know about your feelings about the new chapter, or if any question arises in your mind! (I do my best to always reply!)

See you very soon!