Chapter Text
140 A.C.
Crystalline waters lapped against the white shores of Tarth. Looking out to the sea, a partly cloudy sky filled with gulls and terns, the horizon marked by passing ships carrying either weary passengers or bountiful cargo filled with fruit and wine from the Reach or fine silks from Dorne. It was one of many things a princess of the Seven Kingdoms could think of when looking out to the Narrow Sea. She could almost ignore the pair of Queensguard keeping watch ten paces back, but not the faint sound of heavy beating wings as a dragon soared overhead.
“Dragon inbound, princess!” Ser Glendon Goode shouted as he and his fellow Queensguard ran up to the princess, hands on their hilts as they saw the massive shadow circle around and slow for descent. Sand kicked up as massive wings beat the air, the two Queensguard stood ahead of her as she shielded her eyes away from the billowing sand as the dragon landed with a resounding slam. Visenya’s sworn shields stood forward, swords at the ready as they faced the massive beast. “You stand in the presence of Princess Visenya Targaryen!”
Both guards flinched as the massive dragon made a guttural bellow, impassive bright green eyes staring at them from its wide head before they heard an indistinct command in High Valyrian. Visenya knew of this dragon, a great beast that some maesters deemed a mutant or a freak of Old Valyrian science. A dragon with thick scales and a wide head akin to a lizard-lion or crocodile, its back covered in broad spines, and its wings broad like a sail. A single rope with a metal hoop on the end lashed at the ground not long before the rider of the dragon rappelled down.
“Ser Raegan Celtigar,” The rider spoke as he removed his helm and shook his raven hair free, small streaks of silver-white throughout. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man in his prime, wearing fragments of plate armor over his red and gray uniform. Under his helmet he had a stern but handsome face with a scar across his forehead. He held out one palm to show no hostility as he pulled a leather thong from his pocket and tied his hair up in a knot haphazardly. “Princess Visenya sent me a raven. She wanted to speak with me?”
The Princess squeezed between the two guards, her violet eyes wide and bright as she watched the dragon turn his head and nuzzle his rider, her ears picking up a whisper in High Valyrian, something about returning when called. The dragon then turned for the surf, its spiny tail swinging over his head before taking off and flying out to sea.
“It has been a while since I have seen you, Princess. You were a small child when I last saw you.” The knight smiled warmly, kneeling down to meet her at her eye's level. "But what are you doing in Tarth?"
“I am to pick my lady-in-waiting, ser. But I would like to speak with you in confidence first. Walk with me, cousin.” Visenya skipped past the knight, trying not to giggle as Raegan turned to her mother's Queensguard, shrugged, and followed after her. The knight's long strides eventually catching up to her, the girl now watching his dragon soar a mile off the coast before swooping down and taking a mouthful of seawater.
“My brothers have talked about you. And a lot more people have talked about your reputation and your dragon.” Visenya tilted her head in curiosity as she watched the dragon circle around, the knight letting a small smile sit on the corner of his lips before nodding. “What kind of dragon is he?”
“I do not know, princess.” Raegan strolled, his hands behind his back as he watched the ten year old pick up a stick and begin drawing a dragon in the sand, a sketch of Syrax.
“I hope my dragon gets to grow that big. I only went on one ride with her,” She looked up at her young dragon, Starchaser, watching her soar circles above. "Mother was flying right behind me on Syrax. She said that I was flying so fast that she thought I'd fly right off my saddle."
“The Queen has a good reason to be protective of her children when on dragon-back. Your brothers and sister had multiple close calls even after flying out to war.” Raegan noted, looking down at the sand and the battle axe hanging on his side, its haft and head marked with the swirling bands of Valyrian steel.
“That axe, it's Craw Cleaver isn't it?” Visenya stopped to look at the knight, his voice caught in a bad memory. “Did it ever see battle?”
“More than I'd like for it to have, princess.” Raegan rapped his fingers on the haft of the axe, Valyrian steel making muffled rings before he put his hands behind his back.
“My mother doesn't like talking about the Dance of the Dragons. She thanks the Old gods and the New that she didn't lose more than she could've but still. When were you with my brothers and sister?” Visenya asked, walking circles around the knight, her pace slowing with curiosity.
“Let me think...” Raegan pondered, his lilac eyes looking upward in thought as he tried to recount every moment with her siblings.
"Can you tell me about it?” Visenya asked, looking up to the knight who looked to the sea with thought, watching his dragon circle around before flying up into the clouds.
“The Dance of the Dragons? Princess, I- what are you doing?" Raegan asked as Visenya skipped over the largest rock, dusted off the sand, and perched herself with an expecting stare.
Visenya sat on the rock with her arms crossed, her little boots kicking like the air as she waited for an answer. “I don't want to use rank with you, but I will.”
"I was going to ask where you would like for me to start, Princess Visenya." Raegan chuckled, standing with his hands on his hips.
“Start from when you came into my family's service.” She answered, pointing at a petrified log next to her, gesturing for him to sit.
“Well,” Raegan grunted, squatting down after drawing out his axe and chopping it into the log. “It began four-and-ten years ago. My uncle, Lord Bartimos Celtigar, wanted me to experience a day at court. And it would be of all days that I would be there on the day when Ser Vaemond Velaryon put to question your brother's legitimacy for his inheritance of Driftmark.”