The night continued, with the finest Arbor Gold being poured one after the other. Rhaena preferred the pale ambers of Pentos, but she did not voice her discontent. She could not taste the difference with the dread.
The party has taken to the Chamber of the Painted Table, sans the younger children. They had been reluctant to sleep, but their watered down wine had done away with their resistance. Rhaena was glad they would not be privy to their talks. Their discussion had grown grim. Only the eldest three of Rhaenyra's remained; Joffrey at his seven and ten being the youngest still in attendance.
"He will ask for something, father." Rhaena had raised her unease the moment Ser Steffon Darklyn, who had taken the late King Viserys' crown for the Queen, closed the doors behind them. She had asked for the change in venue for this exact purpose.
"Lord Borros would do best to remember he swore to defend Rhaenyra's right of succession. He will remember better with a dragon outside his halls than a letter." Her father dismissed the concern. His dragon Caraxes had rarely failed in getting him what he wanted. But it seemed her father forgot that even the Blood Wyrm could not give him the Iron Throne in his youth.
"Dragons alone will not be enough. The Greens have them too. It is a last resort." Prince Jacaerys responded. Baela gave him a mild look of temerity.
"We have six dragons to their four. We have unclaimed and wild dragons too." Baela's last statement made the room's eyes turn to her again. Rhaena detested the looks of pity. Everyone bar Corlys was a dragonrider, and the Sea Snake had his ships. Rhaena's cradle egg had hatched, but it did not survive even a day. She currently nursed a large egg. It was part of a clutch Syrax, Rhaenyra's dragon, had brought forth. She kept it beside her when she slept. The egg was always warm to touch and Rhaena was sure it thrummed from time to time.
"They are wild for a reason. And Vermithor stirs for little but Silverwing who he always coils with. They will not separate for me to claim either one of them." Rhaena could count on one hand the times she had found them apart, and none of them for long. It was as if they knew.
"It is true." Her betrothed spoke to her defence, smiling at her across the table. "They will not part until one of them is dead."
It was her grandmother's turn to speak, "And Moondancer is hardly at battlesize. She is slow to grow."
"Moondancer can fight!"
"Not against Vhagar or even Tessarion." Joffrey quipped. Baela did not restrain her glare to him.
"If we might stay on topic..." The Queen sat on the raised chair that oversaw the Painted Table. Rhaenyra had loosed her hair and put the crown on her lap. Rhaena knew the meeting would soon be adjourned. No one wanted to further strain her Grace, with so many moons left before the babe was ready.
"Yes, my Queen," Rhaena had to make her final plea, "I suggest a betrothal."
All eyes were on her again. Some were aghast, others interested. The Sea Snake posed at her the vital question on everyone's mind.
"And who would that be?"
"Our Joffrey is almost ten and eight. I'd say of the Four Storms, Maris Baratheon is the best." Rhaena answered.
Daemon grimaced, "She is the least comely of all the sisters. Floris is the fairest."
Rhaena almost rolled her eyes. She knew of her father's time as the 'Rogue Prince', but even in his older age was beauty all he could think about? Thrones were not won with just a pretty face. He had taught her as much.
"Why not the eldest, Cassandra?" Rhaenyra questioned.
Rhaenys balked. "I remember my great-niece for little else but her wanton. I mislike Ellyn for the same." Rhaena was well aware. But did not care for either girls' proclivity to stable boys or serving girls. Who had not once in their youth? Maris served another purpose in her plans.
"They are all beautiful, father. But I understand my sister's choice. Maris is a cleverly woman, she would be useful by our side." Baela nodded in her direction. Rhaena knew she had her support.
"What good will her council be? It is her father we want." Lord Corlys said. He had taken seat too, his strength coming and going like the tide.
"Lord Borros is known to be illiterate. He often asks for Maris to read on his behalf, preferring her to the Old Town maesters." Prince Jacaerys was smiling. Rhaena looked over to her betrothed, so to was Lucerys. All except...
"Should I not attend then? To see who I will be wed to?" Joffrey said, appalled. Rhaena might have said yes, if she were not keenly aware of Joffrey's disposition. She thought back to the dinner they shared with her uncle, Viserys, Alicent and their children. Jace and Luke had held their tongue and stayed their hands at the insults leveraged at them. Joffrey had to be escorted out by Ser Erryk Cargyll, Rhaenyra's sworn shield.
"Brother, me and Rhaena will make a good match for you. And you will be needed here, to defend Dragonstone." Luke ruffled the younger boy's hair, smirking when he batted his hand away.
"You had better. I mean it, Luke!" Joffrey's face was so serious that laughter erupted about the room. Rhaenyra most of all, who had to wipe tears from her face. With that settled, they bid each other goodnight. Rhaenyra and Daemon went to their apartments in the Sea Dragon tower whereas the boys headed to the Windwyrm. The twins walked in turn with their grandparents further down in the Stone Drum.
After scrubbing away the night away in hot waters, Rhaena finally lay in bed next to her dragon egg. She wondered how she might bring it, fearing it might fail to thrive without her. She decided against it. If it fell the egg would never hatch at all.
She sat there with a hand over the pink egg as if it were a pregnant belly until there was a rap against her door. It was in the tune of a Pentoshi song. One she only heard once whilst at the manse by a delightful performer. Already comfortable and aware of who it could be this late, Rhaena called out:
"Enter, sister."
Baela took no time in doing just that. Rhaena was not surprised to see her in just her bedclothes, but she felt her disapproval. She quietly admonished her internal septa. Baela's chambers were just opposite to hers. If anyone were to wag their tongue about it, Rhaena would see to it that they wagged no more. Gossip about Baela that reached her ears rarely ended well for its partakers.
Baela climbed into bed, careful to not disturb the egg lifted on a separate pillow. "I could not sleep."
Rhaena hummed in agreement. She looked at the sky, she could not even see stars against the darkness. It could only mean it was the hour of the wolf. There would not be much time to before sunrise. "I do not think I can bear to sleep."
She felt Baela take her hand. "You worry too much. I know why you called us to the Painted Table." Her lilac eyes twinkled the way their grandmother's often did. Rhaena rolled her eyes, but smiled. She had not cared for subtlety, only better terms to present. She would have asked that an older dragon go instead, if her father and Lady Rhaenys were not bound for the Trident and Driftmark, respectively.
In Corlys' sickness, their seat had become defiant without direction. Most notable of all being Vaemond, the Sea Snake's nephew. He lost his life for calling the Princes bastards. His remains never returned to sea, having been eaten by Syrax.
And while his cousins learnt from his mistakes, they had given the Lady Velaryon trouble for keeping by Rhaenyra's side. From ignored summons, to ships out on unapproved voyages. Everything but that which could remove their head from their shoulders. They were sly and craven, but those were times of peace. Not heeding a summons now could be listed as treason, but the Sea Snake had lost much of his strength. He would need Rhaenys' Meleys to regain control.
Her father's journey was a matter of gaining ground. He was to take Harrenhall, a stronghold for the riverlords to converge and make way for any procession to King's Landing, should it come to that. Time was of necessity. They could not be spared to act as messengers, when there were keeps and navel fleets to secure. With a betrothal to offer, Rhaena was confident they could win the Lord Borros to their side.
"It worked, did it not?" Rhaena looked over to see her sister already asleep, her hand still grasping hers. She was happy to see Baela resting before her long journey. But her smile dropped with the knowledge this would be the last time she would see her sister, for a long while yet. If at all.
Rhaena put her egg back in the brazier stoking the coals first. She returned worn. The egg was a heavy thing, the largest of the clutch. Rhaena could barely touch each hand together around it. With the size of the brazier and the heat of the egg, she never set her fireplace alight. In time, Rhaena could feel her eyes shutting against her wishes. She clasped her sister's hand again. Sleep came quick.
Rhaena woke with the morning's first light. She always did, but today she begrudged the habit. Her head throbbed and so to her heart. Baela lay haphazard across the bed snoring softly. Rhaena would let her sister sleep for a little while longer. She was playing with her locs until she heard a screech.
No, it was more of a squeal. But too quiet for lack of breath, or lungs. Rhaena's hand shot to her headrest where she kept a blade, per her father's teachings. She scoured the room looking for the intruder, but found nothing. She slowly peered under her bed. Nothing. If it were the bathroom she could wake Baela, and have one of the knights search her room instead.
Screeee.
There it was again. It could not have been a human voice, the sound was too unnatural. This time Rhaena turned to her fireplace and dropped her blade at the scene.
The egg had cracked. And in it stood a dragon! It was the size of a tall dog with the same pink colouring as the shell. The dragon sported an orange crest and its horns were tipped black. Rhaena's heart sang! A dragon of her own, and one so beautiful too. She ran out of bed to attend the hatchling. In doing so she stirred Baela awake.
"Why in the seven hells do you wakeso early?" Her voice was still thick with sleep, eyebrows furrowed.
Rhaena did not think to answer. No, rather she could not. This had to be a sign. That it would all go well. That they could win this war, or avoid it altogether. She peered into the young dragon's eyes, amber stared back.
"Gods be good!" Baela finally roused. She sped over to look at the new arrival.
"What a beauty..." Rhaena had to agree, it was such a sweet thing. She extended her arm toward the creature, and for a moment she was afraid. What if it did not take to her? Worse, what if it did not survive? Rhaena waved away the fears. What of it? She would be without a dragon again, but she had to know. Rhaena would not hesitate to claim what was hers. She would not make that mistake twice.
She pet the hatchling, who responded with another cry. It strengthened her resolve. Next was an attempt to lift the small creature. Baela watched with baited breath. The new dragon drew its wings when she scooped it from the remnants of its shell. But no bite or retreat came. A warmth spread across Rhaenyra's chest. It was hers! This hatchling, already so large and with colouring like the sunrise, had chosen her. Her delight could not be contained, a bright laugh sang from her lips.
Baela joined the melody with her own boisterous laugh. The girls held each other close, tears of joy clouding their vision. Rhaena knew just the name for her dragon.
"Morning." She whispered to her twin, who was still recovering from the bout of giggles.
"Yes it is, and?" Baela responded, puzzled. Rhaena smiled at her confusion. She let her eyes fall to the dragon, who had coiled itself about her, like an armlet.
"Morning. They will go by Morning." The young dragon peered from beneath her chin, head tilted. Rhaena cooed at the action, bringing the hatchling closer to her face.
"It responds to you already." Baela stood impressed. "They are far larger than Moondancer when she hatched." Rhaena's eyes flew to Baela's. They met with an uneasy hope.
"A Meraxes to a Vhagar?" Rhaena sought those amber eyes again. Morning met her with a vibrancy that almost made her lose balance. Dragons were intelligent, the texts agreed on that. But to see it in those eyes, as if it could hear her, understand what was unspoken. Could the hatchling feel her grief now? That she would have to leave within hours to make for Storm's End. Rhaena could not put the young dragon in jeopardy, and dragons thrived on Dragonstone. Morning curled tighter still.
"I do not think we have a century to test that theory. But should it grow quickly like some, perhaps you will mount within the year." Baela stroked at Morning's wing, the membrane was coloured orange there too. Rhaena's mind raced at the possibilities. This could turn the tide, should Morning be of a battlesize quickly.
She paused. After so long, she had a dragon. And all her first thoughts were of riding it to war? No, that would not do. She would put an end to this affair without bloodshed. By any means necessary.
Rhaena for once did not primp, preen and practice for all her hours before departure. She had to announce a new arrival. She wore a sharply tailored gown of black, the drapes inlaid with blood red. The shoulders stood up at arms, leaving her bare in the décolletage to make room for Morning. The dragon had not left her in any step of her preparations. From bath, to dressing.
She made her way to the Painted Table. There she passed two on the black council. Lord Staunton of Rook's Rest, who at the sight of Morning about her neck dropped to his knees in jubilation. Lord Bartimos Celtigar, was as shrewd as he was old, but the cold exterior warmed into a great smile. "The gods favour us, to be sure!" Both men, young and old, hurried to tell their bannermen the news.
At last she reached the chamber. Ser Erryk and Darklyn, the only two true Queensguard left, knelt immediately in her presence.
"They await you, Princess." Ser Erryk spoke with reverence she had never heard in her direction. Rhaena braced herself and Morning's frills grew rigid. She entered the chamber.
All talk halted at once. She did not meet any eye but Lucerys', who she took place next to. He was proud, that was plain to see. It melted into a gaze that made Rhaena pool. She had to look away.
"A dragon as an adornment." The Queen spoke first, as was her right. She was smiling.
"Our Rhaena never fails when it comes to fashions." Her grandmother beamed. So to did the Sea Snake, whose arm was wrapped about her waist.
"The Pentoshi had armlets, these sweeping things of beaten silver and gold. It reminds me of that." Rhaena was hesitant to meet her lord father's stare. She had lost herself so much so to her grief that she postponed claiming Vhagar. As if their bond would bring her mother back. So much ill will was born that fateful night, all because of her fear.
But Daemon never blamed her once. When she had no strength to wash her face, or braid her hair, Daemon would tend to her himself. He took as much time as needed to coax her back to life. He never gave up on her. Not once. It was that belief she saw when Rhaena looked into his eyes. Her solemn mask broke and she gave her father a smile that outshone the sun. Daemon suddenly blinked with ferocity, and swept a hand across his cheek. He was crying. He was crying! Rhaena flew to his side where he brought her into a deep embrace.
"I worried for so long, how I might protect you better. But what more could I give you than a dragon." Daemon spoke into her hair, pressing a kiss when he was done. Rhaena's tears ran heavy. Her father dried them all.
He did not know. How could he not know? There were more weapons to wield than dragonfire. Daemon had equipped her with all of them.
He hated politicking, but taught her the intricacies of all houses, great and minor. He did not forget her traditional schooling either. She was well learned in the arts, taking especially well to dance.
When she knew he would rather fly Caraxes, he would escort her to halls, banquets and balls all about the realm to sharpen her social dexterity. He would read to her books in diplomacy, and those of war.
Daemon even sought through his contacts in Essos, a Braavosi swordsman. Braavos was home to a style of fencing better suited to her build. Though he wielded Dark Sister, he practiced without complaint against her slender blade, Mirage. This went on until the Braavosi finally declared, "Rhaena could teach the dance herself, my prince. Let me return home."
When Rhaena would tire at the education, the events, or her sword, Daemon would do away with the exhaust with a flight on Caraxes to some nearby ilse. There they would blend into the commonfolk and enjoy the normalcy. Just father and daughter. She held those days so fondly in her heart.
"You gave me more protection than any daughter could hope for." Rhaena whispered back, kissing his cheek.
"Rhaena should stay here. With the dragon so young-" Corlys was immediately cut off by Joffrey.
"Look at the beast! It looks like Tyraxes not even two years back. This one will live without her." Though Rhaena did not want to part with Morning, the boy spoke true. The hatchling thrummed with life. She could feel it in her own blood. She felt stronger. Perhaps that is why she so confidently refused both offers. She would go. WithMorning.
Incredulity burst about the room. Jace informed her that staying in Dragonstone would help the dragon grow. Luke pitched concern on the strain carrying them about her neck would do. Rhaenys offered the tactical advantage of keeping Morning a secret from the usurpers. The Sea Snake rebuked his lady wife, it was a sign from the gods! It should be heralded from the rooftops. Joffrey offered to go about on Tyraxes with the news. Rhaenyra hummed in agreement with much of the commentary.
All gave their protests. All but Daemon and Baela. She had bristled at the uproar, but her dearest people were steadfast beside her. Baela laughed when the young dragon snapped where she tickled its tail. Daemon kept her close with one arm. Soon the rabble quieted and faced to turn all three.
"She keeps the dragon." Baela's tone carried with it a finality that dared any to raise objection.
"She keeps the dragon." Daemon repeated, the same dare in his voice. He looked behind his shoulder to his Queen. Rhaena did not need to look, she knew what the answer would be.
"She keeps the dragon." With that a new subject was swiftly raised, until it was time to depart.
The young boys, Aegon III and Viserys II, were smitten with Morning. Aegon, the elder of the two, had his own dragon Stormcloud beside hers. Large enough to ride at the size of a warhorse, the dragon had grey scales and white markings. Stormcloud had been growing seven years, and yet Morning was near half his size.
"Shall we give it another, sister?" Viserys asked, his long hair streaked with gold. She nodded, smiling at his eagerness. The boy was dragonless, like she had been, his egg never having hatched. She could feel his hopefulness, seeing that she had reached twenty-two before having one of her own. At almost half her years, there was time yet for her brother.
Aegon beat Viserys to the meat, not waiting for a response. Grabbing a chunk of mutton, he raised it to the hatchling. Aegon was almost ten and four, but he matched Joffrey's height. A quiet child though he was, he was quick to answer if called upon. Rhaena queried as to why he held it to Morning's maw.
"Lay it on the ground, Aegon." He shook his head. Soon Morning opened to reveal teeth like razors. A heat was emanating. What did he plan to do?
"Aegon, drop it!"
"Brother!" Viserys rushed to stop him but it was too late. Morning released a fiery plume of red and orange. Her heart fell as she ran to his side. The flames dissipated and Rhaena gingerly took the boy's hand, expecting the worse. But, it could not be... Where there should have been scorched skin and weeping wounds, was an intact hand. It still felt hot to the touch, so the fire had made contact. She looked on her brother. His purple was not lilac like hers, more mauve. Without the light on the cliffside you could mistake his eyes for black. But she could see his amusement clearly.
"How?" Viserys stood perplexed. He may not have had a dragon, but he made up for it with his astuteness. She often overheard his lessons end with the praise of Maester Geradys. His bushy eyebrows furrowed in thought. Aegon waited with a smirk on his face.
Viserys shot up, "You are immune?" Rhaena gasped, hand covering her mouth. The Doctrine of Exceptionalism lost some of its validity with the death of King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne's daughter, Princess Daenerys. It was thought that Targaryens, especially as pure-bloooded as she, could not grow sick. But the young girl had died of the Shivers, like thousands that terrible winter. With this perhaps there was truth to it, for a lucky few.
"How long have you known this?" Rhaena looked on Stormcloud, it was a gentle dragon. It could not have been them.
"Always." Aegon the Younger said. She nodded, that was enough of an answer. Rhaena felt her own blood swell with a vitality she was not accustomed to. Baela and her were sickly as babes, but Moondancer's egg had cracked and so too their illness. There was much they did not know, the knowledge lost to the forsaken ruins of Old Valyria. There were also things better kept a secret, she placed a hand on Aegon's shoulder.
"Do not make this a party trick, Aegon. Keep it close to your heart. It may come of use in the future." Rhaena turned to receive the same affirmation from Viserys. The boys were young, but they were wise beyond their years. She could trust them to do as they said.
They played until the trio, was five with the arrival of Baela and Moondancer. Then nine, with Luke, Jace and their dragons, Vermax and Arrax. Soon the sky about Dragonstone was filled with dragons, old, growing and hatchling. The usurper might wear the Conquerer's crown, wield his sword and sit the Red Keep. But Targaryens were known for their dragons, and the Blacks had them in abundance.
Their bannermen and vassals had all come to the occasion to see off all the dragons. Rhaena pressed a chaste kiss into Jacaerys' cheek. "Return her to me." There was no humour in her voice. Her mother's loss tore at her spirit, to lose her twin...
"You have my word." Jace's eyes were sure and true. She knew that her cousin would not let any harm come to Baela. But she had to hear it, see it. She nodded and they hugged once more, before meeting with Baela.
"Baela-" Rhaena found she could not continue. Baela drew her quickly into her shoulder. Rhaena knew she did so to hide her tears. Her hand circled her back.
"Iwillcome back. Do not fret, little sister." Any other time Rhaena would have bemoaned the label. But it was true. Baela was her older sister, and she relied on her for so much. Where her father could not reach her, Baela would. Even though they had both suffered the same loss.
Rhaena did not trust she could open her mouth without sobbing. So she simply kissed her twin's forehead, and called on the Mother, Maiden and Crone to watch over her dear sister. She called on the deities of Old Valyria too, for good measure.
They left on Vermax not soon after, Moondancer following behind. It was now their turn.
Rhaenyra and Daemon came to the two. They exchanged kisses, embrace and blessings. Rhaenyra held her son's face between her hands, her eyes shining with suppressed tears.
Her father stood smiling at her.
"I'm so proud of you, my love. If Laena could see you now." His smile faltered. Their trio had never been so separate before. It had always been them. And now they flew in opposite directions, with war about to break.
"She does, father. Death is not a strong enough veil for Laena Velaryon." Daemon's laughter shuddered. When he hugged her for the last time, she could hear him sniff back tears. Her heart broke at the sound.
But they could not delay any longer. Luke mounted Arrax, securing himself in his saddle, before reaching for her. Rhaena was not new to flying by any means. Not even on Arrax. But her nerves would have suggested otherwise. Rhaenys blew a kiss to her, already aboard the Red Queen, Meleys. There too, went her grandmother. Daemon was readying Caraxes, the Queen at his side. She knew all of them were fighting the same worry: that they would never met again. Rhaena turned back to Arrax. If her whole family were fighting their fears, so could she.
She threw herself toward Lucerys' hand, using Arrax's white scales to give her height. Their hands caught and Luke lifted her with little effort. She settled behind him after her own straps were done. Morning, with a maw still full of roasted meat, flew up and clung to her back. They could take flight, but not for the length they had to travel to Storm's End. With rapturous applause, Arrax beat his wings and took to the skies. Rhaena looked down until Dragonstone was nothing but a speck against the waters.
"How do you fare, my betrothed?" Lucerys leaned back to steal a glance at her face. She knew he knew she was just fine. But in the cloak of clouds, she felt bold too. Rhaena rested her chin on his shoulder.
"Most excellent, my Prince." Her voice came as a purr. She had not meant it, but that was the effect Luke had on her. Her hands were tight about his waist, and felt that shiver she so wanted. He cleared his throat. "Good."
So like that they remained, Lucerys managing the difficult winds as they neared the seat of Lord Borros Baratheon.
They saw the castle when the sun had started to set, but landed when night had completely fallen. By the time they had reached the Round Hall's doors, a storm raged. Sheets of rain fell from the sky. Arrax found shelter beneath the tower's gate, whilst Morning twined around her neck, torso and hips. Rhaena's red cape concealed them completely.
Rhaena looked to the night sky. Luke was a formidable dragonrider, but he could not perform miracles. Even an agile dragon like Arrax could not avoid lightening. Or the gusts of wind that broke against the curtain wall. It would be too dangerous to travel in these conditions. They would have to win Lord Borros, least of all to ask for a night under his keep.
Rhaena and Luke looked at each other for a final time. "I should have worn my hair up." She grimaced, in the delight of Morning hatching she had not done her braids. Rhaena knew with the wind her coils looked a sight. Luke chuckled.
"I like it when you wear it down. I would hope you will wear it like this even when we are wed." His hand brushed lightly past her cheek, to twirl a coily strand about his finger. Rhaena met his gaze sharply. Married women oft styled their hair up, so to save their beauty for their lord husbands. If Lucerys were to be so lovely all the time, how could she hope to keep her composure? The man with each day nestled further into her heart.
Rhaena slid her hand into his. He enveloped hers entirely.
"That I can do. But we have a wedding to procure for our dear Joffrey first. Remember, we must select for him a good wife." Luke snorted at her false sternness.
"Come then, we will need all the time to deliberate the choices." He pushed open the doors.
If not for Lucerys holding her, she might have collapsed. Who else was speaking with the Lord Borros than their most dangerous foe. Dragonrider of Vhagar, her mother's dragon. The only creature still alive from Aegon's Conquest.
Aemond faced them, not a hint of surprise in his one eye or sharp features. His pout drew slow into a hungry grin.
"Nephew."