Rhaenyra spent the evening resting before the fire as her grandmother read a story to her. Her father stood by a window, deep in thought while her mother embroidered a piece of cloth by the couch. The past few days had been quiet, Rhaenyra noticed, since her grandfather Baelon had returned from his hunting trip ill and weak.
Her great-aunt, Septa Maegelle, entered the room, her face somber and her eyes red. "Sister," she addressed Alyssa, "I bear the most unfortunate news. Our brother Baelon has met the Stranger this evening. You have my deepest sympathies."
With those words, Princess Rhaenyra felt a cold shift in the air. The little girl had only seen four namedays, and did not fully understand death, but she was old enough to know that something terrible had happened. Her lord father sank into a chair with his hands in his face, while her lady mother went over to embrace him. Alyssa threw her arms around her younger sister and the two women wept together.
Rhaenyra looked around the room anxiously, "Aunt Septa, what happened? Will Grandfather be alright?"
"He is with the gods, princess," Maegelle answered hoarsely, struck with pity for the little girl who did not yet understand that she would never see her beloved grandfather again.
That night, Rhaenyra slept in her mother's bed, between her parents, rather than in the nursery. As they lay down to sleep, Aemma let out a small yelp and cradled her swelling belly.
"It's happened," she breathed, a fresh wave of tears filling her eyes. "The quickening."
Viserys placed a hand on his wife's belly, "It's a sign from the gods, it must be. I only wished my father..." He could not finish the words.
"I know," Aemma pressed Rhaenyra against her and placed the little girl's hand on her belly. "Your brother's in there, just waiting to get out."
Rhaenyra squealed in delight when the babe kicked against her hand. "He said hello to me!"
"He did," Viserys kissed her silver-gold curls. "He can't wait to meet you."
Seven days later, the Spring Prince burned atop a cliff on the outskirts of the capital as the royal court, all draped in black, mourned. No one expected Baelon, a healthy man who had not yet reached fifty years, to pass, much less so quickly, and a thick curtain of grief fell over the kingdom. None wept louder than his widow, Princess Alyssa.
The king himself lit the flame, issued by his mount Vermithor. As the prince's body turned to ash, his own dragon, Vhagar, let out a sorrowful roar and took off into the sky. Where she went, none could say. Jaehaerys had been old before her father was born, but to Princess Rhaenyra he had never looked older than he had in that moment. His shoulders slumped; his eyes filled with tears as the she-dragon vanished into the pale blue sky. Rhaenyra wriggled her way out of her mother's grasp and threw her arms around her great-grandfather. He had always smiled when she hugged him. Jaehaerys gently rested a weathered hand atop her head and hugged her back with his other arm.
In the coming weeks, no one found it necessary to explain to the princess why troubles brewed at court, but she felt the tension mounting regardless. The long hours her father spent in the king's solar, the icy looks from Aunt Rhaenys and her husband, the whispers that ceased abruptly when she entered a room. When she asked her mother, Aemma replied, "It is not for you to worry about."
One day a man dressed finely in green stood before the court and named himself Ser Otto Hightower of Oldtown. He swore an oath of service to king, and Jaehaerys descended from the Iron Throne to place a golden necklace of interlocking hands around his neck. Rhaenyra recognized it as the necklace her grandfather had worn before his passing.
"Why did Great-grandfather give that man Grandfather's necklace?" Rhaenyra asked father much later, after court had been dismissed.
"That necklace belongs to the Hand of the King," Viserys explained, "And Ser Otto is the new hand, now that my father is gone."
"Why didn't Great-grandfather make you his hand?"
"It is not my place to question it," Viserys smiled sadly. "Great-grandfather is the wisest of us. If he chose Ser Otto for the position, Ser Otto must be well-suited to the task."
Days after Ser Otto's appointment, he introduced the youngest princess to his daughter. In appearance, the girls resembled each other little. Where Rhaenyra had russet brown skin and cloud-like silver-gold hair, Alicent had ivory skin and dark auburn hair that hung in loose curls. A shy, quiet girl two scant moons the princess's senior, Alicent's sweet and soothing temperament comforted the princess in her time of worry and grief. Their growing familiarity allowed the older girl to open like a spring blossom. Alicent went everywhere with Rhaenyra, played with her, wiped her tears, laughed with her, and slept in her bed more nights than not. The friendship between the king's great-granddaughter and hand's daughter charmed the royal court, most of all the king himself.
Barely a fortnight after selecting his new hand, King Jaehaerys gathered the royal court into the throne room. Rhaenyra and Alicent stood on the mezzanine overlooking the raised dias where the king sat the Iron Throne.
"My lords and ladies," Jaehaerys announced. "I came to power when I was but a boy of fourteen years, and now I sit before a man of seven-and-sixty, with children, grandchildren, and even great-grandchildren. My time with you will not last much longer, that much is clear, but before I can rest, I must settle the question of succession. For the security and prosperity of this kingdom. In six moons times, I shall assemble a great council to aid in the selection of my rightful heir."
A loud gasp burst from the crowd. Rhaenyra pouted, not sure what her great-grandfather meant. Wasn't her father now the heir, before his father had died?
Jaehaerys continued, "All lords of the realm are invited to attend and lend their wisdom. All potential claimants will make their case and at the end, the lords of the realm will advise me on the nature of these claims before I make my decision. The future of our kingdom is at stake, but I trust my lords to direct me toward the correct choice."
AN: Concerning Rhaenyra's appearance, the Targaryens are now a mixed raced family due to the way I've combined details from the show and books. In the show the Velaryons are black and in the books two of Rhaenyra's ancestors (Lady Vaelena and Queen Alyssa) are Velaryons. I mean no disrespect to any of the actors.