Once, Rhaenys Targaryen's love for her father surpassed all others in the world. It surpassed her affection for her brother, grandmother, uncles, and even her mothers; Rhaegar was her paramount adoration.
However, the moment when Rhaenys ceased to love her father remains elusive to her. Was it when he crowned another woman as his queen of love and beauty, disregarding her own mother? Perhaps it was when he hastily departed with that same woman right after being informed that her mother could no longer bear him more children. Or maybe it was when her grandfather commanded her and her mother to immediately come to King's Landing, leaving her younger brother alone at Dragonstone. Alternatively, it might have been when she witnessed a father and son perish together, coerced by the king to observe their demise. He told her, "Fire cannot kill us." A cruel sight that her father was not there to spare her from. Perhaps that was when her love for her father ceased.
Rhaenys had begged for the Seven Gods to bring her father back. They answered her prayers, and he returned one night to Kings Landing However, he did not come to see her, he rode off to war the next morning.
She distinctly recalls hearing of her father's defeat at the Trident. He suffered injuries, and his life would have been forfeit if not for Arthur Dayne. Rhaenys had once retained a deep sense of gratitude towards Ser Arthur Dayne for rescuing her father, but as the years went by, she would come to curse his name. Following her father's return to Dragonstone, after his defeat on the Trident, a Stark girl and her babe roamed the halls of Rhaenys' birthplace.
When word reached the king that his son had lost the battle at the Trident, he cursed Rhaegar Targaryen and his line. Rhaenys and her mother were confined to their chambers, accompanied only by her cat, Balerion, and Ser Jaime Lannister, who no longer resembled the golden lion she had once admired so greatly.
Elia Martell, her beloved mother, would sing to her often, trying to distract her from the solitude they both had to endure, but Rhaenys would erupt into screams, demanding her father's return. Her mother wept incessantly, drowning in her own sorrow, and it drove her daughter to the brink of madness.
Rhaenys recalls the time her grandfather dispatched her grandmother and uncle to Dragonstone, she had begged her mother to allow her to accompany them. Yet her mother informed her that the king desired that they remain at his side. Rhaenys yearned to be reunited with her brother and father, but the Gods had decreed that their paths would not meet just yet. From her bedchambers, Rhaenys often gazed out the windows, pondering why her father had not come for her and her mother. She longed for their reunion, longing for things to be as they once were.
Tywin Lannister arrived at the king's side as a friend. Grateful for this camaraderie, the king embraced him warmly and welcomed him into King's Landing.
Rhaenys suffered the loss of her mother, causing half of her heart to wither away. When her father had departed, Rhaenys believed her heart had shattered into countless pieces, but witnessing her mother being violated and slain by the Mountain that rides shattered her heart beyond repair. No one could mend it, not her father, her brother, nor any lover. Rhaenys' heart was irreparably broken.
The memories of what transpired afterward elude her. However, she does remember Jaime Lannister stopping the Mountain before he could plunge his blade into her heart. She recalls being presented to the new king, a colossal and monstrous figure. Tywin Lannister desired to sever her head and send it to Dragonstone as a gift for her father, and Robert Baratheon was more than willing to grant the old lion's wish. Yet Jon Arryn counseled his ward to spare the girl's life. By keeping the daughter of Elia Martell alive, the Dornish forces would cease their hostilities, and the Targaryens would be isolated, as most of their allies had abandoned them when Rhaegar Targaryen chose to conceal himself in his ancestral home. After considerable deliberation, it was decided that Rhaenys Targaryen would be spared, though she would remain a captive of the crown.
Shortly after Robert Baratheon ascended the Iron Throne, the remaining Targaryens sought refuge in the eastern lands, eluding Stannis Baratheon's attempts to apprehend them. As a consequence of his failure, Stannis was granted Dragonstone instead of Storm's End. Meanwhile, the new king wed Cersei Lannister, yet the queen showed no kindness to Rhaenys, as most people harbored animosity towards the offspring of Rhaegar Targaryen, known as the "dragon spawn."
The queen gave birth to a son, adorned with golden hair and green eyes, yet no one dared speak a word of the lack of resemblance between the king and his heir. Rhaenys pondered whether they were aware of the intimate relations shared between the Lannister twins. Though she was but a small child, she could move through the Red Keep's halls as silently and swiftly as Balerion. Rhaenys suspected that Varys, the spider, knew of the secret and had perhaps revealed his suspicions to the Hand of the King.
When Rhaenys reached the age of ten and seven, the king imprisoned Cersei Lannister and her brother Jaime, accusing them of incest and adultery. They claimed that Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen were Jaime's children, not Robert's. Tywin Lannister journeyed to King's Landing in an attempt to rectify the mess his children had created, but ultimately the golden-haired twins were found guilty and met their fate at the executioner's axe. Joffrey, the eldest son of the twins, was sent away to the Wall. Myrcella was sent to join the Silent Sisters, while the youngest bastard was destined to become a maester at the Citadel once he came of age.
Young ladies flocked to King's Landing, aspiring to become Robert Baratheon's new queen.
Rhaenys overheard Jon Arryn and Robert Baratheon discussing potential matches for her. It struck her as peculiar that she remained unwed and lacked even a betrothal. She eavesdropped as they mentioned Robb Stark, the eldest son of Ned Stark, and witnessed Robert's anger as he cursed his former friend and expressed his distrust of Lord Stark, alluding to Lady Lyanna's past actions. Rhaenys found herself silently grateful to the king, for she would prefer death over marrying into House Stark. She caught snippets of conversation mentioning Willas Tyrell and Renly Baratheon as possible suitors, both of whom she wouldn't mind marrying. However, she was taken aback when Jon Arryn proposed himself as a suitor for the Targaryen Princess.
Robert Baratheon is taken aback as well, his laughter reverberating through the room. After regaining his composure, he expresses surprise at Jon Arryn's serious proposal. The king's hand explains that since his wife, Lady Lysa Arryn, passed away after giving birth to their son Robin, he was in need of a new wife who could provide him with a spare. While the King says nothing, he wonders why a man as old as Jon Arryn would desire a girl who could be his granddaughter.
As the days pass, the Targaryen princess becomes increasingly anxious about her future betrothal. She has no desire to marry Jon Arryn, but she quickly realizes that she is once again trapped. Jon Arryn, being the second most powerful man in the realm, could proceed with the marriage without any opposition. Rhaenys starts preparing herself for the inevitable doom of this union. She curses Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, as well as their children. She curses her brother Aegon, her grandmother, her uncle Viserys, and the aunt she never had the chance to meet. The family she once loved and longed for no longer holds a place in the princess' heart. She doubts that anyone will ever find a home in her heart again, unless their name is Elia Martell. Once the young girl had finally comprehended why Robert's Rebellion was waged, she shed every remnant of her dragon skin and embraced the warmth of her mother's sun. She could not bring herself to completely hate Robert Baratheon; after all, he was not much older than her when he marched to war for his beloved only to discover that she had willingly gone with the Targaryen prince. She wonders how he feels about the Stark girl having five children with Targaryen blood coursing through their veins.
Rhaenys had expected Robert Baratheon, the man who once desired her head on a platter, to harbor more hatred towards her. However, the king was never cruel to her, often choosing to ignore her instead. It was a small mercy, but one that Rhaenys silently appreciated. She couldn't fathom facing the wrath of a Baratheon. Her father had barely survived the fury of his Baratheon cousin, and it was the fallen star, Arthur Dayne, who had saved the last dragon from becoming a feast for the stag.
The day was cloudy and heavy rain was falling when Rhaenys came up with a way to avoid a marriage between herself and Jon Arryn. It was reckless and not planned out as well as it should have been but she was certain that it could work. All she needed was confidence and then the rest of the pieces would fall together. At least she hoped they would.
Robert Baratheon had gone out hunting when the rain started, and the muddy road caused his horse to slip and fall. The king was relatively unharmed but the Grand Maester insisted he be put on bed rest. Rhaenys thought that perhaps the Gods had finally shown her some mercy. She could begin planting the seeds of her plans much sooner than she had thought but the faster her seeds grow, the better.
Rhaenys liked reading sometimes, she enjoyed learning about the history of Westeros and its legends. She held a book about Nymeria and her ships in her arms, her hands were shaking slightly as she made her way to the King's quarters. As she gets closer she sees Ser Barristan Selmy keeping guard. The knight was once a part of her grandfather's Kingsguard before he joined the Baratheon's Kingsguards. She often wonders if he regretted not running away east to join his lost brothers.
Upon reaching the door, Rhaenys turned to the knight and expressed her desire to speak with the king. Ser Barristan stared at her momentarily, unsure of what to do, before nodding and entering the king's chambers. Rhaenys followed closely behind, overhearing Ser Barristan announce her presence to the king.
"Princess Rhaenys of House Targaryen," Ser Barristan proclaimed. Robert Baratheon, lying on his bed, looked bewildered at the sight of Rhaenys in his chambers. The King's confusion was understandable, as Rhaenys couldn't recall a time when they had conversed beyond pleasantries. She struggled to maintain her composure, nearly regretting her decision to come, but she reminded herself of her purpose.
She watched as the King dismissed the old knight and tried to avoid making eye contact with him.
"Come in, girl," the king's voice boomed, prompting Rhaenys to enter his quarters. As she approached, she watched him struggle to sit upright, ready to offer assistance. However, he extended his arm, signaling her to halt. "I'm not a damn cripple. I don't need your help," he grumbled.
"Yes, of course, Your Grace," Rhaenys responded obediently, suppressing her urge to assist him.
"Now, tell me, why are you here?" he inquired, and Rhaenys remained silent for a brief moment.
"I know that Maester Cressen ordered you to be on bed rest. I... um... I thought that perhaps you could use some company, Your Grace," she spoke softly. The room fell into a momentary silence.
"You thought I would like some company from you? Huh, girl," he scoffed. Rhaenys desperately clung to her confidence, gathering her thoughts before speaking again.
"I only meant that I wished to keep you company. You are my king, and I wish to be of service in any way I can," she replied, surprised by the clarity and strength in her own voice.
"And how do you plan to keep me company?" he challenged her.
"I brought a book." She held out the book she had carried, its presence previously unnoticed by Robert. He glanced at it briefly before bursting into a loud laugh—a fleeting but genuine moment of mirth.
"You want to read me a book? What am I, a boy? Huh, is that what you think I am?" Rhaenys struggled to find a response.
"The book is about Nymeria and her ten thousand ships. I thought that you would like it, Your Grace. Nymeria was a fierce warrior who survived the dragons of Old Valyria. Her people killed dragons and their riders. It seemed like the perfect book for you, Your Grace," she explained.
The king fell silent, and Rhaenys held her breath. "Very well then, read me that book. Perhaps it may even put me to sleep, with any luck," he finally conceded. A smile spread across the Targaryen princess's face as she commenced reading the book aloud.
The Targaryen princess reads the Baratheon king a story about her ancestors. As she delves into the tale, she finds it peculiar that she embodies both the blood of Old Valyria and the Rhoynar. Her ancestors were once the bitterest of enemies, she wondered what they would think of her, a girl who shares both their blood —a girl who bears both their lineages.
The king had dozed off just before she concluded the book. She sat there, gazing at him for a while, suddenly overwhelmed by a surge of anger. This resentment had been festering since the moment the Mountain had barged into her mother's quarters and butchered her. Although Robert Baratheon had expressed displeasure at Elia Martell's murder, he took no action to bring her justice and turned a blind eye to Tywin Lannister's malevolent deeds. Rhaenys wonders now if he regrets it, now that whispers throughout the realm speak of how the Lannister queen deceived the Baratheon king. Would Cersei Lannister have dared pass off her children as legitimate if her father had paid for the crimes against Rhaenys's mother? Would Tywin have been stripped of his power for murdering the Princess of Dorne? Rhaenys likes to believe that he would have, had Robert Baratheon been wiser.
As Rhaenys prepares to depart the king's quarters, she hears him muttering something. Intrigued, she moves closer to discern his words.
"Ned," the king mumbles, repeating it a few more times before falling silent. Rhaenys observes his chest rise and fall with each breath he takes.
She cannot help but feel pity for the king. Despite his charisma and amiability, he lacks close friends. Ned Stark had been his dearest companion, but their bond had shattered, and they no longer exchanged words. Deep down, Rhaenys knows that Robert Baratheon yearns for the friendship he once shared with Lord Stark. If not for that lingering affection, she is certain that Robert would have pursued Rhaegar and Lyanna to the ends of the earth. The love he harbors for Ned Stark is what preserves Lyanna Stark's life, and by extension, Rhaenys' father. The irony of it all strikes her profoundly.
Occasionally, she jests to herself that Robert loves Ned Stark more than he ever loved his cherished Lyanna. Such jests are reserved for her confidant, Balerion.
Rhaenys departs from the king's chambers and comes face to face with Lord Baelish. The man has always unsettled her, ever since he slithered his way into the King's small council. Although she finds Lord Baelish unnerving, she recognizes his power and acknowledges that she may require his assistance someday. So, she stifles her disdain for the lord, locking it away, and engages in pleasant conversation, despite her preference for leaping off a cliff.
"Lord Baelish," she greets him with a congenial smile. Observing the curiosity in his eyes, she knows he yearns to inquire about her encounter with the king. Petyr Baelish is a master of concealing his emotions, and she recognizes the curiosity in his gaze as an invitation to discuss her interaction with the king.
"Lady Rhaenys, I was unaware that you were in the company of our esteemed king. Had I known, I would have waited to speak with him," Lord Baelish remarks.
"There is no need for you to wait, My Lord. I was merely tending to the king's well-being," Rhaenys states, her voice carrying a hint of false warmth.
"Well, how fares our king, Princess?" Lord Baelish inquires.
"He is well, though it may be best to wait for an audience with him later. He is asleep," Rhaenys responds, a disingenuous gentle smile gracing her lips.
"Asleep? Ah, I wouldn't dare disturb the king's rest. The Gods know he needs it after his accident," he chuckles softly. Rhaenys joins in with a small laugh of her own. "Well, I shall take my leave now, My Lord," the princess says, accompanied by another gracious smile. She attempts to pass Lord Baelish, but he swiftly moves in her path, extending his arm towards her.
"Please, allow me to escort you back to your chambers," he offers. Leave me alone, was what she wished to say.
"Of course, My Lord," Rhaenys accepts, placing her hand on his outstretched arm.
They swiftly arrive at her quarters, and as the doors close behind her, Rhaenys breathes a sigh of relief, finally freed from the presence of the Master of Coin. She places the book on her table, reminding herself to return it to the library. While she could assign one of her maids to the task, she relishes her walks to the library and seeks any excuse to visit. Truthfully, her affinity for books is not as pronounced as many assume. The allure lies in the serenity that shrouds the library. Although she does read during her visits, it is not an insatiable thirst for knowledge that draws her to the secluded corners of the library.
The Lord of Spiders, Varys, had introduced her to the library when she was merely eight years old. It had been her first visit since her mother's tragic demise, and she had initially been confused by Varys' intentions. However, she soon discovered why the Master of Whispers was keen on her presence there. In passing, he suggested she peruse a book—an account of the Dance of the Dragons, the Targaryen civil war that initiated the House of the Dragon's decline. Shortly after, Varys left her to explore the library alone. Left with nothing else to do in the room full of books, her young self chose to heed the Master of Whispers' suggestion.
With determination in her eyes, Rhaenys embarks on a search through the library, her steps carrying her deeper into the cramped room. She scans the shelves, her gaze sweeping across the rows of books, until her attention is captivated by a familiar spine tucked away in the shadows. The book she seeks, adorned with the sigil of House Targaryen, lies hidden beneath a haphazard pile of neglected scrolls, cast aside and forgotten.
Taking a seat on the cool stone floor, Rhaenys delicately retrieves the book, its weathered cover bearing the weight of age and countless hands that had turned its pages. She cradles it tenderly in her lap, her fingertips gently tracing the embossed dragon, a symbol of her lineage. As she opens the book, a solitary sheet of paper surrenders to gravity, slipping soundlessly from its confines. In the dim light filtering through the library windows, Rhaenys perceives the parchment's pristine nature, a stark contrast to the time-worn pages of the ancient book.
Her curiosity piqued, she cautiously lifted the paper, acutely aware of the significance it holds. A sense of secrecy lingers in the air, urging her to ensure privacy before unraveling its contents. She cast a furtive glance around the library and confirmed that no one was in here with her, still with a discreet motion she picked the book up and slipped the piece of paper onto the open pages of the book, concealing it from prying eyes. Should an unexpected visitor intrude upon her sanctuary, they would witness nothing more than a young princess, deeply immersed in her cherished Targaryen heritage.
Finally, her attention turns to the mysterious missive, its surface adorned with black ink that contrasts against the pureness of the parchment. Rhaenys' eyes devour the words, her mind eager to unravel the secrets that lie within the piece of parchment.
In a hushed sanctuary within the library, Rhaenys delves into the intimate words. Her eyes trace the lines of the letter, her heart swelling with a mix of anticipation and trepidation. The inked page,a channel for her uncle's voice, weaves a tale of familial longing and regret.
"My dearest niece, I hope that this letter makes its way into your hands.
I have longed to see you my sweet girl, the last time I laid my eyes on you was when you visited Dorne with your mother. Knowing what I know now I wish I would have kept you both in Dorne.
But the Gods are cruel.
There is so much I wish to say but I wish for you to know that you will always have my love and support. Prince Doran will love and support you. Dorne will love and support you.
I know that I am but a stranger that bears the same name as your mother but I hope that you know that you are not alone.
With much love, Uncle Oberyn"
The bittersweet memories of Rhaenys' first letter from her uncle lingered in her heart, a seemingly everlasting joy that had warmed her spirit. The brevity of the letter had left her yearning for more, craving a deeper connection to the man who had become a symbol of love and support in her tumultuous world filled with cruelty and sorrow. Yet, even in its simplicity, the letter had nestled its way into her affections, becoming a cherished keepsake that she held dear to her heart.
With tender care, she folded the paper, preserving its fragile state, and secreted it within the sanctuary of her dress' sleeves. Hidden away, the letter found solace in the confines of a wooden box, nestled beneath her dresser, its presence known only to her.
But as time wore on, the wooden box collected layers of dust.
Hope continued to flicker within her as she ventured to the library, day after day, her heart alight with the promise of another message from her uncle. The people of the Red Keep observed her frequent visits, seeing echoes of her father's affinity for books within her. They never questioned her purpose, assuming her endeavors to be scholarly in nature, much like her fathers had been. Yet, deep down, Rhaenys sought a solace between the pages; a letter from her uncle, an unspoken connection that eluded her grasp.
Her name day, a milestone in the passage of her years, had held the promise of a precious gift—a letter from her uncle, the embodiment of his enduring love. The anticipation built within her. But as the days unfolded, the absence of her uncle's words sank into her heart like a heavy anchor. She clung to a flicker of hope, convincing herself that the letter would arrive, delayed but not forgotten. Yet, time proved unforgiving, each passing month etching its absence into her being. The weight of disappointment pressed upon her, tears cascading down her cheeks, mourning the absence of a promised gift— of her uncle's love.
The tender years passed, marked by countless days of longing and unanswered wishes. With the arrival of her ten and five name day, a realization dawned upon Rhaenys, an acceptance born of sorrow and resignation. The truth settled within her, seeping into the depths of her soul—her uncle's letters would no longer grace her fingertips. A final sob wracked her frame, releasing the pain of lost hopes, and with it, she bid farewell to the tears that had accompanied her longing. She cried one last time over her lost letters and never shed tears for any promised letters ever again. From that day forward, the once cherished dreams of letters faded into a distant memory.
Anger gripped Rhaenys' heart, its fiery tendrils seeping into every fiber of her being. In the wake of her realization, a storm of fury raged within her for days, casting a dark shadow upon her soul. In those moments, she found herself cursing her uncle, the man whose absence had become a gaping wound in her existence. For a fleeting instant, Prince Oberyn eclipsed even Rhaegar Targaryen as the target of her deepest resentment. Yet, as quickly as the anger had surfaced, it dissolved into a sea of profound sadness that threatened to engulf her entirely.
Desolation engulfed her, its weight pressing upon her fragile spirit. The void left by her uncle's letters seemed insurmountable, casting her adrift in a sea of melancholy. Seeking solace, she sought to rationalize his absence, weaving a delicate web of explanations within her mind. Perhaps her uncle had ceased his correspondence out of concern for her safety. The notion brought her a semblance of comfort, knowing that within the Seven Kingdoms, there still existed someone who wished to shield her from harm.
This fragile justification held firm until the eve of her ten and six name day, when fate conspired to reveal a truth she had longed to uncover. She overheard a conversation between Littlefinger and Varys, their whispered words carrying secrets that would shatter the fragile illusions she had clung to. Pentos, a name that once held a wistful allure, resurfaced in their exchange, its significance intertwining with her family.
Littlefinger had heard rumors from across the narrow sea that the Prince of Dorne had been in Pentos and in an effort to learn more, Petyr sent spies to Pentos to look further into the rumors, Rhaenys remembers how she tensed up when she heard the name of the city.
The weight of realization settled upon Rhaenys like a suffocating cloak. Pentos, once a beacon of her dreams, transformed into a haunting symbol of destruction and despair. The city's beauty, once envisioned with fervent hope, now crumbled to ash and ruin within the recesses of her mind. Pentos had once been a most precious place for Rhaenys, she would dream of a beautiful city with beautiful people, where she could be with her father once more. This dream was ruined once she understood why her family was there in the first place. The city became covered in fire and ashes in her dreams, nothing but ruins of something that was once so beautiful.
No longer shielded by the comforting veil of ignorance, Rhaenys stood at the precipice of a truth that threatened to consume her. Her uncle, Oberyn had abandoned her as well; just as her father had done all those years ago.
Yet, in the face of this profound upheaval, a flicker of determination ignited within her. Though the echoes of lost dreams reverberated through her being, she vowed to forge a new path, guided by the lessons she had learned and the resilience she had cultivated. Pentos may have crumbled, but she, Rhaenys Targaryen, would rise from the ashes, unyielding in her pursuit of purpose and the preservation of her life and legacy.
The words of Littlefinger echoed in Rhaenys' mind, unraveling a web of secrets and revelations. One of his spies had witnessed a meeting between Prince Oberyn and a Targaryen prince, though Lord Baelish withheld the identity of the latter. Rhaenys knew without a doubt that it was her own brother. The news of their reunion struck her with a bewildering mix of surprise and longing. She had always believed her brother to be beyond her reach, separated by an entire sea, and yet fate had allowed a reunion between Oberyn and Aegon. The realization stirred within her a bittersweet hope, a flicker of possibility that she dared not extinguish.
Lord Varys, ever the Master of Whispers, cunningly mentioned Rhaegar Targaryen, eliciting further information from Littlefinger. Rhaenys couldn't help but feel that Varys possessed knowledge far beyond what he disclosed to Baelish, as if the spider held the strings to a tapestry woven with intricate details. The two whispered of a potential alliance between the Targaryens and Martells, discussing a war that aimed to reclaim the stolen throne. It was a war of restoration, a battle that promised to breathe new life into the Targaryen dynasty and usher in a new era for the House of the Dragon.
But as the visions faded and Rhaenys opened her eyes, the reality of her bedchambers came crashing down upon her. Balerion, her confidant, still languished in the dungeons, where Varys and Baelish remained in their intricate dance of power.
The weight of the revelation settled upon her, casting a dark shadow over her days. Sleep eluded her, leaving her weary and drained.
Haunted by the weight of her newfound knowledge and consumed by the uncertainty of what lay ahead of her. The days following that revelation were horrible, she could not find sleep and her septa would hit her with a wooden stick when she messed up her embroidery. Waves of nausea overcame her frequently, and when she did manage to slip into slumber, the shadows of nightmares clawed at the fragile fabric of her dreams.
As Rhaenys gazes upon the open book about Nymeria and her ten thousand ships, a somber understanding dawns upon her. In the depths of her being, she comprehends the source of her lingering resentment towards her uncle. It is the same familiar ache of abandonment that had haunted her when her father departed. The wounds of forsakenness cut deep, and the pain of being left behind resurfaces with a poignant sting.
But time had passed since that revelation and she would be ten and eight soon. Truth be told she never would have thought she would make it this far in life, she had convinced herself that she would die young, stuck in this forsaken castle surrounded by monsters who would come to feast on her corpse. A few years ago, all she wanted was to be reunited with her family, her Dornish family, but now she sees how they abandoned her in favor of her brother.
Rhaenys knows that her resentment towards her brother is an ugly thing but she does not care. Besides it's not like her brother would ever witness her resentment. He is across the narrow sea with his father and brothers and sisters; and not to mention his grandmother and her children. And now he has her mothers brother with him, soon enough she's sure he'll have his dornish cousins as well. Rhaenys knows it's cruel to blame her brother for her abandonment but she couldn't help it. Aegon Targaryen will always be the bane of Rhaenys Targaryen and yet she can't help but love him. She can't ignore the fact that he shares the same blood as her, that perhaps her brother wishes to be with her, that he wishes she was there in Pentos with him. Maybe Aegon wishes she was a part of his family too. She wishes to know these things for certain but she will never know for sure. All she can do is hope that at least her brother hasn't abandoned her.
Resentment and jealousy is a horrible combination and Rhaenys finds herself fighting to keep those two feelings apart. Only bad things will come from such horrid feelings and she would much rather bury those feelings deep inside her, deep inside where the only company they would have would be the love she once bore her father. A love that was buried so long ago that it's been completely covered with grass and weeds, hate and disdain. She wonders who else will join the graveyard in her heart.
After sharing dinner with Lady Tanda and her daughter, Rhaenys retreats to her bedchamber, ready to find solace in sleep. The evening had been pleasant enough, yet an invisible barrier seemed to keep her from forging a true friendship with Lady Tanda's daughter. Rhaenys chooses not to dwell on this recurring difficulty of forming lasting bonds and instead settles into her bed, preparing to embrace the respite of slumber.
As her eyes grow heavy and the embrace of sleep envelops her, Rhaenys is transported to a realm beyond her waking existence. The emptiness of her mind gives way to a mesmerizing tapestry of vivid colors and enigmatic shapes. It takes a moment for her consciousness to catch up with this ethereal experience, realizing that she stands outdoors amidst the profound darkness. The absence of light is so profound that she initially assumes herself to be secluded within dark shadows. Yet, the gentle symphony of murmuring waters reaches her ears, subtly hinting at her presence within the embrace of nature.
Struck by a fleeting notion that perhaps her mind has granted her a gift of a peaceful solace, a moment of tranquility, Rhaenys basks in the possibility of peace. However, the illusion of serenity shatters abruptly as thunderous footsteps rupture the silence. The sheer magnitude of the sound resonates with an awe-inspiring power, far beyond anything she has ever encountered. It is a force so formidable that her mind conjures images of Dothraki riders, masters of horsemanship
Rhaenys braces herself for the inevitable revelation, knowing that once her eyes adjust to the dark she would be able to see the true nature of this looming presence. She prepares to confront the sight of a galloping Dothraki horde. The moment teeters on the precipice of both trepidation and fascination, as the enigma of the forthcoming encounter looms over her like a gathering storm.
With bated breath, Rhaenys stood transfixed as the surreal scene unfolded before her. Instead of a fearsome Dothraki horde or a nightmarish demon, a colossal stag emerged from the darkness, surpassing even the size of King Robert's renowned destrier. Perched atop the majestic creature was a formidable figure clad in formidable armor, evoking images of the legendary Trident battle that had forever altered her family's destiny. The man was large and he wore heavy armor, he reminded her of the demon on the trident, she had never witnessed the demon but the stories were so vastly told that she could almost picture the battle itself. I am dreaming of the battle, she thinks to herself.
Caught in the midst of a dream, she found herself drawn to witness her father's fateful encounter, though her anticipation was tinged with a newfound reluctance. The realization had dawned upon her that his defeat spelled her own demise as well.
As the gaze of the immense stag met hers, Rhaenys' heart skipped a beat, paralyzed by the fear of an impending clash, one in which she herself would be pitted against the towering creature. Yet, to her immense relief, the man astride the majestic beast remained oblivious to her presence. With a gentle nudge, he directed the stag onward, leading them deeper into the expansive grounds of the Trident, far away from where she stood by the body of water.
Unable to tear her eyes away, Rhaenys stood in silent contemplation, an observer to the unseen tapestry of history unfurling before her.
Soon enough she heard the sound of wings beating against the wind. A dragon emerged from the clouds and descended upon the battle ground. The dragon was no Balerion the Black Dread, but still, it was much larger than the stag. A man was parched up on top of the dragon, he too wore armor.
Her father looked every bit a dragon. His silver mane could be seen flowing out of his helm, his armor red and black but she noticed that there was no three headed dragon etched into his armor as everyone had told her. Instead there was a sun. The sun was made of red rubies. Rhaenys was conflicted as she watched the rubies glow and glisten underneath the moonlight. Her father had no right wearing the sun of Dorne but if anyone had the audacity to wear the sigil of the wife he abandoned, it would be Rhaegar.
Rhaenys watched as the two men dismounted their mounts and walked towards one another. They met in the middle, she could see their lips moving but she could hear nothing that came out of their mouths. The river, which had once stood quiet, soon sounded like a whirlpool of water, the water was loud and she thought she heard her name being called out from the water.
She had been paying too much attention to the body of water; almost as if it was hypnotizing her, that only the clash of swords made her look back at the open field and there she saw her father and Robert fighting one another. Rhaenys was confused to see that Robert held a sword in his hand. A peculiar sight for her, everyone knew that the king was more fond of his war hammer, he never fought a battle with a sword.
Robert had brought the last dragon to his knees and Rhaenys looked around and waited for Ser Arthur Dayne to appear. She had the funny thought that perhaps he would appear from the sky with the fallen star of his house. But no fallen star appeared and no sign of the sword of the morning presented itself. She turned her attention back to her father.
Robert stuck his sword deep into the chest of Rhaegar Targaryen and she watched as blood spilled from the lips of the man she once loved more than anything. Tears left her eyes without her permission but she could not bring herself to care.
The man who murdered her father cleaned the blood off his sword and started making his way to her. Her feet were planted to the ground and no matter how much she willed herself to move, her feet would not answer.
He got closer to her and stopped only a few steps from her, the river. He's not coming for me, he came for the river. She watches as he kneels on the ground, Rhaenys could see him much more clearly now. Robert was not as large as he is now.
The man removed his helmet and Rhaenys felt like she had been hit in the face. The man who stood before her was not Robert Baratheon. The Baratheon king had hair the color of night and eyes the color of a clear sky.
The man who killed her father had hair the color of silver. The hair was long but still short enough to be covered by his helm. Rhaenys moved closer to him and saw his reflection in the water, his hair may not be the color of coal but his eyes were the stormy blue color that every Baratheon beared.
She stared at the man for a long while, she felt herself fading away. It was in that very moment that the man in the reflection locked eyes with her. She knew that he saw her all along.