THIS WILL BE A SMALLER CHAPTER
Rhaena POV
Rhaena stood high atop one of the towers of Harrenhal, her hands resting lightly on the cold black stone as she looked out over the sprawling grounds below.
Even after all this time, the castle still felt impossibly vast.
Its towers rose like dark giants into the sky, its walls so immense they seemed built for gods rather than men. The blackened stone, melted and twisted from the fires of Aegon the Conqueror and his Black Dread, gleamed dully beneath the afternoon sun. Harrenhal was a ruin and a fortress all at once, scarred, proud, and far too large for any lord to truly fill.
Yet it lived.
Below her, men and women moved like ants through the courtyards and yards, hauling timber, mending stone, carrying baskets, tending fires. Their voices rose faintly through the air, laughter, shouting, the steady hum of life filling the shadow of the great fortress.
Rhaena watched them in silence.
Her gaze settled on two figures walking near one of the outer yards.
One was a girl she recognized.
Emilia.
Emilia had served at Harrenhal for years now, ever since she had been a child barely old enough to carry water without spilling it. Rhaena remembered the girl's first days, shy, thin, all wide eyes and nervous hands.
Now Emilia walked with confidence, carrying linens across the yard while speaking to a young boy beside her. The boy looked near her age, laughing at something she had said.
Rhaena found herself smiling faintly.
She wondered if they cared for one another.
There had been a softness in the girl's face she had noticed more than once in recent days, a lightness in her step that did not come from duty alone.
Young love, perhaps.
Or the beginning of it.
It was strange, the things she noticed now.
There had been a time when matters of servants and stable boys would never have held her attention. Once, her days had been filled with courtly quarrels, noble pride, dragonlords and kings.
Now she found comfort in small things.
In watching people live.
In seeing joy where it could still be found.
Her eyes drifted beyond the walls, toward the endless Riverlands stretching into the horizon.
Then, as it often did, her mind turned to her daughter.
Rhaella Targaryen.
A familiar ache settled in her chest.
Rhaella was in Oldtown now, far to the south, and the distance between them felt greater than any road or sea.
Rhaena missed her terribly.
She missed her laughter. Her questions. The way the girl's eyes lit with curiosity when speaking of dragons.
The tower suddenly felt colder.
She wondered what her daughter was doing at that very moment.
Was she studying?
Walking the halls of some ancient keep?
Looking out a window and thinking of home?
Or had the life of Oldtown already swept her away into new duties and new people?
Rhaena hoped she was happy.
But hope was not enough to quiet the longing.
She exhaled slowly, resting more of her weight against the stone ledge.
"I miss you, little one," she whispered to the wind.
Then—
RAWWWWWWWWWW!
The roar split the sky.
Rhaena's head lifted instantly.
A smile spread across her face before she even saw her.
Then she came.
Dreamfyre soared over the towers of Harrenhal like a living storm of blue and silver.
Her great wings beat against the air with effortless power, each movement graceful despite the dragon's immense size. Sunlight shimmered across her pale blue scales, making her look almost luminous against the sky.
Rhaena's heart lifted at once.
No matter how heavy her thoughts had been a moment before, the sight of Dreamfyre always stirred something warm inside her.
The dragon circled once above the tower, letting out another mighty cry that echoed across the castle below. Workers in the yard stopped to look upward, pointing and staring as the dragon descended.
Rhaena laughed softly.
"Show-off," she murmured.
Dreamfyre dropped lower, her vast wings spreading wide as she hovered before the tower. The force of her wingbeats sent Rhaena's silver hair whipping behind her and stirred dust from the stone.
Then the dragon lowered her great head.
Rhaena stepped forward without hesitation.
She reached out and laid her hand against the warm scales of Dreamfyre's snout.
The dragon rumbled low in her throat, the sound deep and content.
Rhaena smiled wider and scratched gently along the ridge of the dragon's nose, just where she knew Dreamfyre liked it.
"There you are, sweet girl," she said softly.
Dreamfyre closed her eyes halfway and gave another pleased rumble, almost purring in the strange way dragons did.
The great beast, feared by armies and lords alike, leaned into the touch like an oversized cat seeking affection.
Rhaena laughed quietly.
Only with her did Dreamfyre show such softness.
The dragon's breath was hot and smelled faintly of smoke and ash, but it was familiar, comforting, even.
For a little while, the ache in Rhaena's chest faded.
She stood there on the tower of Harrenhal with her dragon before her, hand resting on warm scales, the wind high around them.
Below, the people continued their work.
Far away, her daughter remained in Oldtown.
The world was still uncertain.
But in that moment, with Dreamfyre before her, Rhaena allowed herself peace.
She rested her forehead gently against the dragon's scales and closed her eyes.
And Dreamfyre purred.
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