[A/N: there is a poll on my P@treon, it's free, and the result will impact the story, so go and check it out!]
Alicent saw her friend's expression completely shift, from the enthusiasm for spectating a world of knights and swords, to a somberness that was uncharacteristic of her.
Rhaenyra choked a sob and rushed out of the viewing box. Ser Westerling followed soon after, as was his duty to keep the Princess safe at all times.
It was certainly a miracle that Rhaenyra hadn't tripped and fallen on the hem of her dress, as she quickly made her way back to the Red Keep.
All of the maids and attendants carried sad expressions, as Queen Aemma was certainly well beloved by all.
She entered the chamber where she once expected to find her mother cradling a newborn sister. A babe she would care for and play with by the warmth of the hearth.
Yet what she found was a bed stained with blood. Her mother was nowhere to be found. The maesters had probably already taken her to prepare her for the pyre.
In the center of the room was her father, with a despondent expression, where he usually only carried confidence and pride.
Close to his chest was a bundle of cloth, which shifted subtly with the movements of the babe inside it.
She drew closer, seeking her father's comfort. A haven from the storm that was her feelings at that moment.
Viserys noticed his daughter approaching.
As much as he grieved the loss of the woman he loved, as much as he hated himself for being the one to have ordered her killing—and for being the reason such butchery was necessary. Though the Seven know that he had no way of predicting his desire for an heir would lead to his wife's death, and even further, no one would ever know what would have been his choice had he known the consequences.
Despite all of that, Viserys knew… He knew that his daughter was even more affected than he was. Because the loss of a mother marks a child in a way that nothing else can. He knew it, since he has experienced that feeling himself. Though he had been through that, much later in life than his daughter.
Viserys shifted the babe he was pressing against his chest, as he now carried Antarys with one hand, and the other he wrapped around Rhaenyra's shoulders. He pressed her small body against his, as tightly as he could.
Warm tears stained his clothes as Rhaenyra finally felt like she could let go.
Viserys smiled bitterly at it, as no father wanted to be the reason their children cried.
He looked around the room, noticing a couple of attendants still present.
"Leave us," he ordered.
Soon, the chamber was emptied, and only the Targaryens were left.
"How? Why? I don't-" Rhaenyra tried and failed to speak what ailed her heart, as she sobbed loudly now.
"Shh…" Viserys squeezed her shoulder. "We'll have time for that later. Now I need you to let it all out. Cry as loud as you want. The maesters won't take long to prepare your mother. And by that time, I need you to be strong."
Viserys knew this was a cruel thing to ask, even more so given how young Rhaenyra truly was. Something he often forgot, as she had always been a remarkable child.
"The people need to see we are strong, lest the snakes think the dragon has grown weak." He spoke.
Rhaenyra sobbed louder, but she nodded, nonetheless.
Thus, father and daughter spent the next hour together. One crying loudly, to the top of their lungs, and the other silently, with only tears and a quivering lip being proof of the sadness within.
After that, a gentle knock was heard coming from the door. It was time, it seems.
"You may enter," Viserys said.
After hearing the royal permission, Septon Eustace entered the room with cautious steps. "Your Grace, the rites have been prepared. Will you carry the torch, or will it be your daughter?" Eustace asked.
"Neither," Rhaenyra said. "Syrax will light mother's pyre."
Viserys nodded. "So be it." With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the septon.
Eustace bowed and left.
Viserys looked at his son, sleeping quietly in his arms. He seemed fragile and fleeting. But he was the last gift Aemma had left him with.
He smiled when he heard how powerful the heartbeat of the babe was. It almost sounded like the drums of war. And in one way or another… They might very well be.
Sighing, he pushed Antarys forward, towards the lap of his older sister.
Rhaenyra was startled. She didn't know what to do. She didn't know how to feel at that moment.
So, she simply took her brother in her arms.
She was uncertain how to feel about him…
On one side of the coin, he was the reason her mother was no more. On the other side of the coin, he was her sibling, and he appeared healthy and strong.
Rhaenyra sighed and clutched him close to her heart.
She smiled sadly as she felt the warmth of the babe.
The moment she did, Antarys stirred, waking from his sleep. He opened his eyes and looked straight at Rhaenyra.
The instant she saw his eyes, she was mesmerized by them. She wasn't repulsed or scared by them. She was curious and entranced by their crimson glint. By the innocence behind those big eyes.
Rhaenyra had always loved dragons. She was captivated by their power. Drawn to the freedom they offered.
And those eyes looked so much like a dragon's eyes…
They were nearly identical to those of her Syrax. Only in a different hue.
"Father…" She called.
"Yes, Rhaenyra?" Viserys turned towards her.
"Why are his eyes like this?" She asked with an uncertain tone. "Why are they slitted like a dragon's eye? Why aren't they purple like our eyes? I have never seen a person with red eyes before…"
Viserys sighed. "I don't know my child. I really don't. Neither do the maesters… All I know is that your brother is special."
Rhaenyra seemed unsatisfied by the answer, but there was nothing she could do about it, so she simply accepted it.
"Now, let us go. We need to send your mother off properly." Viserys said as he turned and walked to the door.