RHAELLA
The Fiery Princess
53 AC
It had been two long years since Rhaella, along with her mother Queen Rhaena Targaryen and her younger brother Aegon, the heir of the Iron Throne, had moved to Dragonstone. Rhaella couldn't help but chuckle at the irony of the situation - living on Dragonstone because Aegon held the title of Prince of Dragonstone. The contrast between the vibrant court of King's Landing where Aegon had thrived and the dull, somber atmosphere of Dragonstone was stark. Rhaella had spent the past three years at Fair Isle with her mother, and the change was intense. She longed for the lively court at Faircastle, where she had once found comfort.
Eager to reconnect with her younger brother, Rhaella was taken aback by Aegon's maturity. It seemed as though the weight of his responsibilities as the heir and Prince of Dragonstone had aged him beyond his years. Rhaella couldn't help but wonder if she was the heir to Uncle Jaehaerys and Princess of Dragonstone, would she experience the way Aegon is currently experiencing? Despite her rebellious spirit against the septa's lessons of ladylike duties and her distaste for Dragonstone's atmosphere, Rhaella knew she had a duty towards Aegon. As his older sister, she resolved to support him as best as she could, even if she felt suffocated by the weight of expectation and responsibility.
As the cool sea breeze tousled Rhaella's silver locks, she made her way towards the Sea Dragon Tower where Elissa Farman, her confidante and dear friend of the Queen Mother, was known to frequent.
Approaching Elissa, who stood gazing pensively towards the setting sun on the western horizon, Rhaella called out softly, "Lady Elissa?"
Startled from her reverie, Elissa turned with a warm smile upon seeing the princess. "Princess Rhaella, what a pleasant surprise! How fare you, my dear?"
With a hint of exasperation, Rhaella lamented, "Oh, the same dull life of this island, Lady Elissa. It bores me to death."
Chuckling sympathetically, Elissa nodded in agreement. "Indeed, Dragonstone can be dreary. I've been contemplating speaking to your mother regarding this."
Intrigued, Rhaella tilted her head curiously. "Do you truly wish to depart this island, Lady Elissa?"
"I do, my dear princess, I'm not happy here. I want to go back to the western seas," Elissa confessed, her eyes reflecting a mix of longing and determination. "And what of you? Have you considered spreading your wings beyond these ancient stones?"
With a conflicted expression, Rhaella hesitated, "I yearn for adventure… just like you, but I cannot abandon Mother and Aegon to shoulder their weight of their duties alone."
"Prince Aegon, though young in nine namedays, carries himself with a maturity far beyond his years, princess," Elissa remarked, her gaze softening as she glanced at Rhaella. "Both he and Rhaena possess a certain grace and strength befitting their Targaryen bloodline, much like your own." Elissa smiled at her.
"Now, I shall go and confer with your Queen Mother. Good morrow, princess," Elissa bid her farewell with a respectful bow before gracefully descending the stairs.
Alone once more, Rhaella turned her attention back to the expanse of the sea, her eyes drifting towards the tranquil waters of Blackwater Bay, lost in her own thoughts out of boredom.
⁂
RHAENA
Queen in the East
53 AC
For two years, Rhaena found contentment within Dragonstone. Here, she ruled with a firm hand, unyielding to the whims of men. The freedom to govern as she pleased brought her a sense of fulfillment that she had longed for. Her days were spent in the company of dear friends, particularly Elissa, whose presence brought warmth to her heart.
Among her children, it was Rhaella who shared a special bond with Rhaena during their time in Faircastle. A spirited and adventurous soul, much like Elissa. Aerea, now a septa, was dearly missed, her absence a lingering ache in Rhaena's heart. The memory of their last meeting at Oldtown during her brother's coronation was etched in her mind, a bittersweet recollection. However, it was her relationship with Aegon, her only son and heir to the Iron Throne… the rightful king of Westeros, that weighed heavily on Rhaena. Despite his strong claim and potential, there was a distance between them that she struggled to bridge. Aegon remained an enigma to her, described as peculiar, eccentric, and astute by hearsay.
Rumors of Aegon's unconventional behavior reached Rhaena's ears, painting a portrait of a young boy with a curious mind. He delved into the lives of the fisherfolk and smallfolk, forging connections with the servants and guards of Dragonstone. His interest in their names, wages, and daily struggles set him apart, endearing him to those around him. Even his interactions with Ser Merrell Bullock and his sons spoke of a compassionate and empathetic nature.
As for Androw, her estranged husband, Rhaena harbored little concern for his whereabouts or activities on the island despite hearing about how Aegon manage to "change" Androw, not that she cares of him. Her focus lay on Elissa, the woman who had captured her heart and soul. In Elissa, Rhaena found love and companionship.
In the peaceful haven of her solar, Rhaena found herself reminiscing about a particular conversation she had with her son, Aegon. She had advised him to maintain a certain distance from the smallfolk on the island. However, Aegon had argued that understanding their stories and struggles could lead to positive changes for all of Dragonstone. His words had stirred a sense of pride within Rhaena, knowing that her son carried such empathy for the common people. Yet, a part of her, couldn't help but caution him against mingling too closely with those deemed beneath their station, saying that "the blood of the dragon should not mingle with the smallfolk."
When Aegon dismissed her concern, she couldn't help but let out a weary sigh. It seemed she had raised not one, but two rebellious children in their own ways: Rhaella and Aegon. And Aerea was the only one that was obedient out of her three child. She truly misses Aerea.
As she heard the soft tap on the door, Rhaena's attention snapped back to the present.
"Enter," she called out, her voice carrying a regal tone.
"Your Grace," Maester Culiper greeted her with a bow.
"Maester Culiper," Rhaena acknowledged, her curiosity piqued.
"A raven bearing news from King's Landing, a message from His Grace, your brother," the Maester informed her, presenting the parchment.
"Jaehaerys reaching out to me directly, how intriguing. I've thought he has forgotten this side of the family," Rhaena remarked with a hint of amusement, making the Maester shift uneasily.
"You may go, Maester Culiper. I shall read this by myself," she dismissed him with a nod.
"Your Grace," Maester Culiper bowed once more before taking his leave from her solar.
A hint of solemnity in her gaze as she carefully unrolled the parchment presented by Maester Culiper. The scroll, sealed with the imposing sigil of King Jaehaerys. With a reverence befitting such solemn moments, she delved into the message penned by the ruler of the realm.
``My Dearest Sister Rhaena,
I pen this letter with great joy in my heart as bearer of the most wondrous news. A week ago, the Seven Kingdoms were blessed with the birth of a healthy and radiant child, a girl of noble Targaryen blood, whom we have named Daenerys. The realm rejoices in the arrival of this precious babe, a beacon of hope for our House and all who dwell within our lands.
I write to you, not only as a brother to a beloved sister but also as a fellow parent, to share in this moment of familial bliss. Alysanne and I are overjoyed by the birth of our daughter, whose laughter shall surely echo through the halls of the Red Keep for generations to come.
In light of this joyous occasion, I extend to you and your esteemed family a heartfelt invitation to join us in celebration. A feast of grandeur and merriment is to be held in honor of our daughter's birth, and it would bring us great happiness to have you and yours grace us with your presence.
Furthermore, I implore you to ensure the attendance of young Aegon, our valiant Prince of Dragonstone, at the festivities. It is of utmost importance that he partake in the revelry and stand as a symbol of the unity and strength of our House.
May the flames of the dragons burn brightly in the skies above as we come together in joy and unity.
With love and anticipation,
Jaehaerys Targaryen, the First of His Name
King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men
Lord of the Seven Kingdoms
Protector of the Realm
``
Rhaena set the scroll down onto her desk with a sigh, her mind swirling with thoughts of the upcoming feast celebrating the birth of her sister Alysanne's child, Daenerys. Would Daenerys be named Princess of Dragonstone just for being the King's daughter? Aegon has been dethroned in his position as Prince of Dragonstone once, until their Aegon died three days later and her Aegon got reinstated back. The very idea made Rhaena clench her fist in frustration. She cursed herself for not pushing harder for her son's rightful claims when she had spoken with Jaehaerys that night.
Back then, House Baratheon had stood by her, believing Aegon should be King. Perhaps even House Lannister would have supported her cause. But Rhaena hesitated, fearing the chaos and bloodshed that could erupt if she pursued it. With a facepalm, she tried to quell the anger bubbling inside her. And then there was a knock.
"Enter," Rhaena's voice resonated with a touch of impatience.
As Elissa stepped into the solar, Rhaena's countenance softened at the sight of her. "Elissa..." Her gaze lingered on her, briefly captivated by her striking beauty. "What brings you here?"
"I sense your disquiet. Your face betrays you," Elissa remarked astutely.
Rhaena handed a parchment to Elissa. "Take a look at this."
Elissa carefully unfurled the document and read its contents before returning it to Rhaena.
"What are your thoughts? Should we go to King's Landing for this feast?" Rhaena inquired, her eyes fixed on Elissa with unwavering intensity.
"The decision lies with you, Rhaena," Elissa began, her words laden with both obligation and freedom. "The king's summons is but a gentle plea, not a decree."
Rhaena found herself contemplating the grand idea of making the journey to King's Landing for the sole purpose of joining in the festivities for her niece's nameday.
After a pregnant pause, she rose from her seat, "Very well." she pronounced, her voice steady and resolute.
"Where are you going?" Elissa's curious voice rang out.
Rhaena paused, a determined look in her eyes, and turned to face the one she secretly loves. "I must see Aegon to know his opinion. My son's thoughts are far beyond his years, and it fills me with a strange sense of pride," she explained, her steps carrying her towards the exit.
"Wait, Rhaena, hold on for a moment... I have something important to share with you," Elissa called out, her tone earnest.
Intrigued, Rhaena halted her stride, turning back to give her full attention. "Well, what is it then?" she inquired, a hint of curiosity lacing her words.
"So, my elder brother, Franklyn... he has finally denied me my rightful incomes," Elissa uttered, her gaze fixed upon the cold stone floor.
Rhaena arched a questioning brow, a rare display of emotion softening her features as she sought to offer her comfort. "Franklyn has ever been an asshole, dear Elissa. It is a blessing in disguise that you now glimpse the truth of his nature."
An uneasy hush settled between the two women.
"Rhaena?" Elissa's voice trembled as she lifted her eyes to meet her gaze.
"Elissa?"
A hesitant plea trembled on Elissa's lips, her request carefully measured in the fragile stillness of the room. "Might I dare to seek your favor in petitioning for the necessary gold to craft a vessel at Driftmark, one fit to sail the Sunset Sea?"
Rhaena's response was swift and unyielding, her resolve unshaken. "No," she pronounced firmly, her tone brooking no argument.
A storm brewed within Elissa, a tempest of longing and defiance swirling in her eyes. "Rhaena, please!" Her voice rose, a crescendo of pent-up emotion breaking free. "I have enough of this place! I want to leave! I want to be… free!" Elissa emphasizes the word 'free'.
"I said no!" Rhaena's own voice, laced with a raw edge of emotion, matched Elissa's fervor. "I could not bear you to leave me!"
"Rhaena... you... you're selfish!" Elissa's accusation hung heavy in the air before she abruptly turned on her heel, departing the solar in a pent-up frustration.
As Elissa's departing footsteps echoed into the distance, Rhaena stood rooted to the spot, a maelstrom of conflicting emotions roiling within her. The sting of Elissa's words, fueled by love and hurt, lingered like a bitter aftertaste. With measured breath, she composed herself once more, her regal facade firmly in place as she too made her exit from the solar to see her son Aegon.
⁂
ANDROW
Second Son on Redemption
53 AC
On a crisp morning on the shores of Dragonstone, the men-at-arms and knights gathered for a unique training session at the behest of Prince Aegon and Ser Merrell Bullock; the commander of Dragonstone garrison. The sun painted the sky in hues of pink and gold as they stood, bare-chested, the salty breeze caressing their skin.
Androw, his ectomorph physique defined and toned from the rigorous training instigated by Prince Aegon for the past two years, stood amongst his comrades. The muscles on his frame were a testament to the newfound focus on the so-called "physical fitness" that the prince had introduced to them, a practice that had transformed their bodies and sharpened their skills.
As the training commenced, Androw found himself matched against Ser Merrell Bullock, the seasoned knight who had taken Androw under his wing as a squire on behalf of Prince Aegon. The clash of steel rang out against the backdrop of crashing waves, the rhythm of their sparring echoing along the beach.
Androw's determination and newfound strength, cultivated through years of hard work, clashed against Ser Merrell's seasoned expertise. Their swords met in a symphony of skill and strategy, each movement calculated and precise. In the intensity of their duel, Ser Merrell's blade struck true, swiftly disarming Androw and causing his weapon to clang onto the sandy shore. With a swift kick, Ser Merrell sent Androw tumbling into the soft embrace of the beach.
Breathless and grinning, Ser Merrell sheathed his sword, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "Well done, lord consort. At least you're not as much of a shit as you were two years ago," he jested, his words causing a ripple of laughter among the men-at-arms and knights gathered around.
Androw, though good-naturedly chagrined, couldn't help but join in the laughter, the camaraderie and sense of growth shared among them a bond forged in sweat and steel.
"You're spot on, ser. Without you and Prince Aegon, I'd still be that bumbling plump-faced fool from two years past," Androw joked, a grin playing on his lips.
The shared laughter echoed around them, creating a moment of camaraderie.
"You've earned every bit of it, Lord Androw," Alyn said warmly, giving Androw a friendly pat on the back.
"Ah, come now, I'm hardly a lord, Ser Alyn," Androw chuckled, embracing him like a dear brother.
"Well, as the consort to Her Grace Queen Rhaena, you might as well be a lord," Alyn teased, rolling his eyes at the undeniable truth.
"Hear hear," said the man-at-arms and knights in unison, agreeing at Alyn's statement.
Androw simply smiled at the camaraderie around him, his outward expression masking the true nature of his marriage. From the moment he set foot on Dragonstone, life hadn't exactly turned into the fairytale he envisioned. No one regarded him as a king, not even as a lord consort. While he sat beside his wife during meals, the true intimacy lay with her companions and favorites, particularly her sister Elissa. They occupied separate towers, their marital arrangement a topic of gossip across Dragonstone. Rumors whispered that his wife suggested he seek a pretty maid for his own comforts, yet he never acted upon such suggestions. Because he loves Rhaena. He loves her.
Then Androw found an unexpected bond with Prince Aegon at the Painted Table. Initially wary of mockery, Androw was pleasantly surprised when the prince engaged him in discussions about strategy, tactics, and battle simulations using painted wooden soldiers on the map. As they talked, they shared personal stories, forming a connection that went beyond mere conversation. Prince Aegon's advice on battle strategy provided Androw with a sense of validation, marking the first time he felt truly seen by another. In a moment of vulnerability, Prince Aegon expressed his desire to visit his birthplace, Fair Isle.
Androw's words hung in the air, "I doubt my elder brother will welcome you, my prince."
Aegon's smirk didn't waver as he replied confidently, "Then I will ensure he does, when that time comes."
The stepfather and stepson shared a moment of unexpected laughter, a sound that hadn't graced Androw's lips for far too long.
One day, Prince Aegon initiated a heartfelt conversation with Androw, his dark purple eyes piercing into Androw's soul.
"Listen, my lord," Aegon's tone was direct, "I need to be blunt with you. You're pathetic. You've been allowing others, even Mother, to belittle you. The servants don't give you the respect you deserve."
Androw felt a pang of hurt at the truth emanating from the seven-year-old Prince Aegon.
"Here's a serious question for you, my lord," Aegon paused, locking eyes with Androw. "Do you truly desire respect and acknowledgment befitting your station?"
Without hesitation, Androw replied, "Yes, my prince. I…" Androw paused for a moment as he let out a heavy sigh, "I have enough of being treated as lesser than what I am."
"Good man, Androw, good man," Aegon commended, placing a reassuring hand on Androw's shoulder. "If your love for my mother is genuine, my lord, then come with me."
And that's where Androw began to change his life. His training with the guards and knights of Dragonstone molded him into a respected figure. Ser Merrell Bullock's guidance as his squire, under Prince Aegon's directive, solidified his position as the lord consort of Queen Rhaena Targaryen. Amidst newfound companions like Ser Alys Bullock and the growing admiration from Rhaena's circle coined the "Four-Headed Beasts", a notable change was evident in Androw. While Elissa's praise for him, Alayne's change of impression towards him, and the affection from Samantha painted a promising picture, Rhaena's indifference lingered who didn't even bother to look at his ongoing changes at that time.
Prince Aegon imparted valuable wisdom to Androw, advising him that his world shouldn't be tied solely to Rhaena.
"You are a gem in your own right. Always remember that," Prince Aegon emphasized.
And now, those words echoed in Androw's mind, a constant reminder of the pivotal moment when Prince Aegon entered his life. Grateful for the prince's guidance, Androw knew that his existence had transformed from a mere fool on Fair Isle to a person of significance in Dragonstone.
Androw was jolted back to reality as his companions bowed before Prince Aegon.
"My prince," they greeted in a scattered chorus.
"Carry on, men, I'm just overseeing your training," the diminutive yet wise prince remarked.
"Good day, my prince," Ser Merrell inclined his head respectfully, "How did your morning run fare?"
"Excellent, as always, Ser. Thank you for inquiring," Aegon responded before turning to Androw, "And how goes your sword training, my lord?"
"All is progressing well, my prince, thanks to your guidance and Ser Merrell's teachings," Androw replied.
"I'm pleased to hear that," Aegon said with a smile.
"He has shown remarkable improvement, my prince," Ser Merrell added.
"It's a testament to his hard work, Ser," Aegon acknowledged, focusing back on Androw, "Wouldn't you agree, my lord?"
"Yes, my prince," Androw affirmed.
"You know, Dragonstone may appear unassuming, but it holds immense potential," Aegon shared with Androw and Ser Merrell, the clashing of swords in the background serving as a backdrop, "I have grand plans for this island if I remain here."
"Intriguing. Pray tell, my prince, what do you envision?" Ser Merrell's curiosity was piqued.
"Imagine transforming this volcanic isle into a bustling port or a trading hub connecting Westeros and Essos! The economic prospects are staggering, don't you think, Ser Merrell?"
"I have no doubt your vision will prosper, my prince," the garrison commander affirmed.
"With the right resources and manpower, it shall flourish," Aegon agreed, returning his gaze to Androw, "Have you explored all of Dragonstone, my lord?"
"Not yet, my prince," Androw admitted.
"Then you must join me next time. Exploring the island is an adventure itself. It'll ease your mind in this dull atmosphere," Aegon chuckled.
"Of course, my prince, I eagerly anticipate it," Androw replied, bowing his head with a smile.
And then, a familiar voice broke the dead air. It was Rhaena.
"Aegon!"
Prince Aegon and the others turned to see Rhaena and Princess Rhaella approaching. They greeted them with scattered choruses of "Your Grace" and "Princess Rhaella."
"Mother. Sister." Aegon's confusion was evident. "I didn't expect to see you both here, especially you, Mother."
Rhaella replied casually, "Well, Mother has something important to discuss with us, brother."
"Is it urgent?" Aegon inquired.
"Yes, it is urgent. Right now-"
Androw couldn't quite tell if Rhaena's lavender eyes were fixed on him. Did she observe his physique, his jawline, his lips, and then meet his gaze?
"-Let's go," Rhaena stated, her gaze lingering briefly on Androw.
Aegon turned to leave and remarked, "Well, I must depart, Lord Androw," nodding at him, "Ser Merrell." He acknowledged Ser Merrel with a nod.
"My prince," Androw and Ser Merrell bowed as Aegon walked away.
"I still can't understand how Her Grace continues to overlook you, despite the changes you've made for yourself, friend," Ser Alys shook his head in disbelief.
"Let's put that aside, Alys," Androw retrieved his sword from the sand, "let's settle this with a duel. Ready?" Androw channeled his frustrations towards Rhaena into a swift attack on Ser Alys, who deftly parried the blows.
⁂
AEGON
Son of the Uncrowned
53 AC
I realize that boredom doesn't quite capture the essence of this island. However, within this seemingly dull atmosphere lies untapped potential of Dragonstone. I'm reminded of the ancient Roman invention of concrete, a technology lost in the world of A Song of Ice and Fire, reserved only to the Valyrians. The stark comparison between the Valyrian Freehold and the ancient Roman Republic ignites a spark of possibility within me. If I can reintroduce the concept of cement to this world, Dragonstone could transcend from a mere backwater island to a thriving trading hub in the known world. But it requires resources and manpower which beyond what I currently possess. I have no political powerbase, or my own resources, or my manpower. I wonder… where should I get these?
Yet, amidst these grand plans, a small victory resides in the changes I've already implemented on Dragonstone. Physical fitness has become a cornerstone for guards and knights, including myself, sculpting us into formidable figures. I've instilled this kind of culture among the men-at-arms and knights. It may just be the foundation upon which Dragonstone's future prospects for guards and knights - are built.
"Did you see those men's bodies? Especially Androw?" Rhaella exclaimed, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "I never took him for a hidden Warrior! No tunic does wonders, it seems. I now understand why the smallfolk women swoon over him," she added with a laugh, glancing at her mother. "Mother, you couldn't have missed it, could you?"
Rhaena remained silent, choosing to brush off Rhaella's playful taunts.
"I must say, did they achieve such physique thanks to you?" Rhaella turned to me, anticipation in her eyes.
I nonchalantly shrugged, a hint of a smile playing on my lips. "It's crucial they stay in top shape to defend the island with precision, especially against the likes of pirates and other threats."
"Marvelous!" Rhaella clapped her hands. "I want in on this training regimen of yours, Aegon. Teach me your ways!"
Rhaena's voice cut through the excitement. "Absolutely not."
"Aww, why not?" Rhaella's protest was met with a jutted bottom lip, a classic display of her discontent.
"Because, my dear, you're a lady. Are you trying to become a wildling from the North now?" Rhaena teased, rolling her eyes.
Rhaella's eyes widened in defiance. "It's unfair! If men can do it, why can't women?"
"Perhaps Rhaella can partake in the physical training, Mother." I suggested, looking between the two women.
"Oh, please, Mother, please?" Rhaella's plea was earnest, her excitement bubbling over.
Rhaena finally relented, her resistance melting away. "Oh, very well. I suppose I can't refuse you, dear."
Rhaella let out a joyous squeal, wrapping her arms around her mother in a tight embrace. "Thank you, Mother! You're the best!"
"So, Mother," I turned to Rhaena, a questioning look in my eyes. "Where are we headed, and what's on the agenda?"
"We're heading to Dragonmont," Rhaena's words echoed with a sense of purpose.
"Whatever for?" I inquired, curiosity lacing my tone.
"Read this first," Rhaena handed me a parchment. As the words unfolded before me and then passed it on to Rhaella for her to read in which she did so.
"So, Uncle Jaehaerys extends an invitation to a grand feast celebrating the birth of their newborn, a mere sennight past. And?" I turned to Rhaena, seeking clarity.
"Do you realize that your position as heir and the title of Prince of Dragonstone could be in jeopardy, again?"
"Again?" I was taken aback. "What do you mean, again?"
"They have their first child named Aegon. Your title was stripped once before, but reinstated upon their Aegon's passing," Rhaena explained.
"I was unaware," I confessed, "But Mother, this newborn is a daughter," I interjected.
"Jaehaerys holds the power to designate her as his heir and the Princess of Dragonstone at his discretion, being the King," Rhaena countered. "Women can ascend the throne. Just as I did, or Queen Rhaenys... or-" her voice trailed off, a tinge of bitterness seeping into her words, "Queen Visenya."
"Mother speaks true, brother," Rhaella added. "You can't be certain. We of Valyrian descent are not bound by Andal customs and the constraints they impose," she concluded, a mischievous glint dancing in her eyes.
"With all due respect, Mother, Westeros is a patriarchal society. There's no way that Jaehaerys will designate their newborn daughter as heir apparent, unless it's a boy. I can't even see it happening," I said, my tone tinged with frustration and doubt.
"Don't you understand?!" Rhaena's raised voice shocked us, especially me.
"What do you mean?" I asked, trying to grasp her urgency.
"Aren't you even angry that your birthright was taken by your uncle?! You are the rightful king of Westeros!" she exclaimed passionately.
"Of course I am!" I yelled back, feeling the weight of my lost inheritance that was mine by right..
"Then fight for it!" Rhaena replied aggressively. "This is why we're going to Dragonmont, so you two can be dragonriders! It is a must!"
Rhaella, who had been listening to our argument, brightened at the prospect of finally being able to ride a dragon freely.
"Truly, Mother?" Rhaella asked eagerly.
"Of course, dear, I believe it's time for you two to be dragonriders, especially when Aegon's birthright is on the line," Rhaena confirmed.
As Rhaella was about to jump in joy, I intervened, "But Mother, hypothetically if I get a dragon, what then? We'll go to King's Landing and what, burn down the royal branch? Is that what you're saying?"
"Jaehaerys has few allies," Rhaena stated firmly.
"He has already made royal progress from the Crownlands, the Vale, and the Riverlands. He already has allies," I countered. "I would've gone for your idea if this was two years ago, Mother. I can still remember how Lord Rogar spoke to me that night… that House Baratheon was ready to support me. But now?"
"Wait… Rogar wants you to be the king?" Rhaena's surprise was evident.
"At that time, yes," I explained. "But now, I'm not so sure."
"You should've told me!" Rhaena lamented.
"You never bothered to ask, Mother. In fact, you barely speak to me. You only speak to your companions and that… woman," I retorted, a hint of bitterness creeping into my voice.
"Woman?" Rhaena was taken aback.
"Elissa," I said firmly. "Don't trust her too much, Mother, even if you love her."
"Wait… you knew?" Rhaena was visibly shocked.
"I don't judge you, Mother, but please you don't have to be blinded by love all the time. Be rational for once. Hmm?" I urged.
"I don't get it," Rhaella interjected. "But why did you say Lady Elissa can't be trusted?"
"Because I said so," I replied in irritation. "Can we just go to Dragonmont, please?"
Then the trio trekked to Dragonmont, their footsteps echoing in the quiet surroundings as they made their way to the mountain shafts. The air was crisp and cool, carrying the scent of ancient stones and the promise of mysteries waiting to be unraveled. Rhaella, I, and my mother remained silent. As we approached a serene pond, a pale grey-white dragon was drinking peacefully. It glanced at us, then swiftly took flight, leaving us in awe of its unexpected shyness.
"A dragon scared of us?" Rhaella marveled.
"A wild one, perhaps," I mused.
Further into Dragonmont, we beheld a striking sight - the mighty Balerion, the largest black dragon, and the majestic Vhagar, adorned with greenish-blue highlights, both taking a rest.
"Is that... Balerion and Vhagar?" I whispered, awestruck by their presence.
"They're... beautiful," Rhaella breathed in admiration.
However, Rhaena's reaction was different. Her eyes widened in horror as she beheld Balerion, the very dragon who had ended her brother-husband's life.
"Mother," I turned to her, struggling to find the right words, "I know Balerion killed Father, but... if I were to claim my birthright, I should claim Balerion. It would symbolize my rightful place in the realm. Rhaella could claim Vhagar."
After a moment of contemplation, Rhaena nodded solemnly. "If it secures the survival of our branch, then go ahead," she granted.
"Yes, Mother!" Rhaella quickly went to where Vhagar was resting.
I turned to Rhaena with determination. "Mother, you do know that dragons aren't the only means to win in political warfare, right? It's through diplomacy and being politically adept."
"This is going to be family against family, not Andals versus us. And let's face it, Mother, I don't have the powerbase Uncle boasts about. If you really want to see me ruling from the Iron Throne, you've got to step up and work your magic. I don't have political influence, but you have one. Use it. Help me gather allies. Don't just stick to Dragonstone, think of a big picture, please." I pleaded, puzzled by her uncharacteristic silence.
Her silence speaking volumes. Has she grown complacent because she prefers Dragonstone with her companions and that she can rule whenever she pleases like a big fish in a small pond?
"I will, my son," Rhaena nodded, her eyes filled with a blend of determination and motherly affection. "And I apologize if I haven't been a good mother to you, I-... I'm doing my best, you know?"
"I understand, Mother, thank you... and let's attend that feast." Leaving her behind, I approached Balerion, the imposing Black Dread. Heart pounding, I faced the legendary dragon. As Balerion roared and unleashed dragonflame, I stood my ground, speaking in High Valyrian to calm him. To my surprise, Balerion relented, acknowledging my presence.
"Let's soar, my friend," I whispered as I bonded with the dragon, feeling the thrill of flight beckoning.
Above, I heard Rhaella's joyous cries as she too bonded with Vhagar, her laughter mingling with the sound of dragon wings. Climbing Balerion's scales, I mounted him, giving the command to fly in High Valyrian.
As we ascended into the sky, the wind rushing past, I couldn't help but let out an exhilarated cry, reveling in the sensation of newfound freedom and power, riding high on the back of the largest dragon in the known world.
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A/N:
By the way, for those who are confused, Rhaella in this fic is canon Aerea. Thank you!