Chapter Text
It is the moment of her birth and she recalls everything that has happened in vivid detail.
The day her mother died.
The day her father remarried.
The day she fell in love with Daemon.
His death.
Her death.
Nothing but darkness thereafter.
She blinks blearily up at the face which is smiling down upon her in amusement. The sight is blurry, her day-old eyes unused to the light, unfamiliar with colours and shadows which play across his face.
He is so young she thinks and she attempts to speak and remark upon it but she cannot.
She wails instead, her frustration leaking from her eyes and dripping across her cheeks.
She wants to remind him that he was hers, that he always would be.
She wants to apologise for losing her faith in the one man who had stood by her and fought by her side every day - as she mourned the loss of their children.
He shushes her, rocking her body against his chest with a sway and her tears gradually cease as he hums to her. She wants to lift her arm to touch his cheek, to warn him of what was to come but her useless arms will not obey her.
She is helpless.
A thirty-year-old woman with a lifetimes worth of memories stuck inside the body of a babe.
She yawns. She is so very tired. So weak.
It’s warm within his embrace.
He smells the same.
The tinge of dragon, the musk of leather, the singe of fire as it catches.
Her eyes droop, and she feels the press of a kiss on her forehead.
Darkness returns.
****
She is six moons old and can sit without toppling over. She considers this a monumental achievement. The first step towards standing, the precursor to running into his arms. She opens her mouth to scold her uncle who is laying on his side beside her – poking at her chubby cheek.
She swats at the digit and he chuckles warmly at her, brushing her locks out of her face, wiping at her drool which she tries desperately to swallow for the sake of her dignity - but her body will not co-operate. She leans towards him and his hand darts out to cup the back of her neck and he tuts.
‘’Careful now, little dragon. You’ll hurt yourself.’’ He coos and she turns her purple wide eyes upon him and attempts her first smile. She forces every muscle in her face to obey her; she wants to reward him with this.
The smile which she had withheld from him in their last years together.
He laughs brightly as she manages the action, toothless and gummy and a high-pitched squeal erupts from her belly which has him doubling over with creases around his eyes - and an echoing smile in her direction. She lifts her plump arm and her sticky hand lands upon his cheek, and she keeps it there, staring intently into his pale, lavender eyes.
He places two fingers over the back of her hand and leans into her little palm.
She loves him so much, and yet words still elude her.
She opens her mouth and babbles. Nonsensical words of gibberish but he listens with rapt attention, nodding along with her in a mock-serious expression and she growls adorably as he tickles her chin.
‘’Can you say, kepa?’’ he asks, tilting his head with a wink and she growls, returning her attention to the plate of melon slices in front of her. She grips one in her chubby hand and offers it to him. She furrows her brows as he bites the melon in half, its juices leaking over her hand.
‘’Ke –‘’ she squeaks, forcing the sound out, the closest she can get to pleasing him. Abruptly he sits up, crossed legged before her and she feels herself being lifted beneath her arms, his warm hands easily wrapping around her torso.
‘’Ke-Pa!’’ he urges her on with a broad smile and enthusiastic nodding.
‘’Pa!’’ she chants and his sigh and accompanied eye roll, is not appreciated.
‘’We’ll keep working on it, little dragon. I want to see the look on my brothers face when you speak to me first.’’ He giggles, still a boy of six-and-ten, childish, boyish, and immature.
She watches him through the eyes of a six-moon old babe – and she decides after much contemplation that she loves this version of him as much as every other she came to know in their life together.
He wipes her drool; he smooths down her locks and pinches her cheek.
One day, she will remind him of this she vows with a smidgen of temper as her hand connects in a soft slap against his chin.
****
‘’Kepa!’’
She is a year old and the saving grace of being this age means that her legs would finally heed her commands and behave as instructed. She wobbles precariously on socked feet on tiled floors as her uncle holds her hands aloft and high above her head.
‘’That’s it. Keep going.’’ He chortles as he takes tiny steps back and she matches his pace by putting one foot forward for each of his which move away.
‘’Marvellous!’’ she hears her father comment from across the room, an excitable round of applause coming from both him and her mother.
She turns to Aemma and her eyes soften. She has missed her dearly, this loving, dutiful mother of hers. She has missed her council, the books read at bedtime to her in a low and comforting voice, the sweep of kisses upon her face.
When her daughter had died, her Visenya, she had longed for the sweet embrace of her mothers arms but all she had encountered was the weeping of her ladies maids, the absence of her uncle and the realm on the brink of war.
‘’She’s learning so quickly. Isn’t she a miraculous child?’’ Viserys asks his brother who immediately confirms the statement.
‘’She is a true dragon. Bold and swift. Beautiful and wise.’’ Daemon coos, scooping her up and blowing kisses against the skin of her neck as peals of laughter leave her.
When she was able – she would tell him every day about how miraculous she thought he was. How loved. How valued.
She would never let a day pass without reminding him of his worth.
‘’Soon she will be running circles round you, Daemon and you will suffer in your attempts to keep up with her.’’
‘’I welcome it.’’ Daemon cheekily grins, throwing her into the air as he did so long ago with their own boys and she feels her tiny heart stutter in her chest.
Everything was much larger, more over-powering as a babe of one. Heights which she would scoff at as she soared above the clouds atop Syrax now seemed impossible to conquer when a fall down a mere step could end her life.
‘’I cannot wait until she is old enough to converse. I wish to hear all of her thoughts.’’ He bounces her on his hip and Aemma laughs.
‘’You may come to regret that statement when she doesn’t give you a moments peace and the air grows thin.’’
‘’She could converse about the weather or how many blades of a grass there are in a field – it matters not. I wish to hear it.’’ She fists a handful of his hair, smiling up at him in adoration.
‘’She is besotted with you. I must admit to being somewhat jealous, Daemon, of how you have charmed her so.’’
‘’I have been known to charm every female, dear brother.’’ He winks once more and Rheanyras lips curls in distaste, and she retaliates by pulling his hair sharply downward and he jerks in surprise.
‘’Women, dear cousin, don’t like to hear themselves being compared to others.’’ Aemma remarks gravely but her uncle snorts.
‘’She is a babe. When she can manage a trip to the privies by herself then I will consider sheltering her from my words. She understands nothing, don’t you sweetling?’’ he tickles her chin again but all he receives is a stony glare from her.
‘’Do not be fooled by her, Daemon. I look into her eyes and I see an old soul, like the fables your father once read to us by the fire.’’
Daemon scoffs, placing the babe in his arms back down and Rhaenyra’s lip immediately starts to wobble. Whilst she may hate hearing him speak of his interest in other women – the fact that she was no longer in his arms was deeply unsettling.
She lifts her arms high into the air, her fingers clenching open and closed towards him and he tuts, placing a hand atop her soft curls and combing them back.
‘’I have business to address this evening. I apologise for not dining with you.’’ He speaks to her father and Rhaenyra feels the tears slip down her cheeks.
‘’Ah. I suppose your presence will be missed in the Street of Silk if you do not appear.’’ Viserys remarks awkwardly and his wife growls.
‘’Do not mention that place in front of me.’’ Aemma sniffs and both men look contrite and chastised.
‘’My apologies, my Queen.’’ Daemon bows his head and Rhaenyra reaches for him once more.
He walks away from her, his long strides taking him to the door. She does not have the energy or the capability to run after him and she falls backwards, her cushioned behind thudding to the ground.
She weeps at his absence.
Tears well and fall, and her throat hurts as her piercing cries fill the room.
Warm hands embrace her face and she blinks, hiccupping, and a small gasp escapes her as her uncle smiles gently down upon her.
‘’I will return, little dragon. I promise.’’
She wishes she could tell him to be careful. To never leave her side. To know that no matter how many whores he bedded – one day he would have a true match in her.
Aemma collects her, seating her on her hip and lifts her arm. She waves at her uncle and he smirks at her red-cheeked, swollen face with eyes that look absolutely heartbroken as she watches him leave.
Her mouth thins in determination.
***
She sits with a book before her, the words dancing around the page.
She is nearly two summers old and her determination has led her to train this body how to interpret the written and spoken language.
‘’Look at her, my love. I would swear she was reading if it wasn’t for the fact that I can clearly see with mine own eyes that she is a babe!’’ Viserys huffs with laughter as he points towards her.
Rhaenyra lifts her brow as best she can and Viserys releases a belly chuckle which reverberates around the room.
‘’There is something odd about her, is there not? She does not cry except for when you brother leaves her side. She does not show much affection at all except to those of us who have been with her since birth. Sometimes I look at her Viserys, and I shudder at the pain I see in her eyes.’’ Aemma says softly, sadness lacing her voice and her father clasps her hands, bringing it to his lips to place a tender kiss on her skin.
‘’You see too much, my dear. She simply has the blood of the dragon within her. She is as calm as an ocean before a storm, as serene as a meadow before the flowers are lit aflame by a spark. I see nothing but a happy child. An inquisitive and curious one, to be sure … but she is ours, and I love her dearly.’’ Viserys presses a kiss to his wife’s cheek and Rhaenyra wishes briefly that she could snort as a response to hearing his words.
Where were they when he murdered her mother by gutting her open like a flailing fish upon the docks?
Where was his words of comfort and kindness after she had ordered her dragon to burn her mother to ashes?
Where was his love when the Hightowers invaded this castle, his kingdom and worse so, his bed?
He spoke of love so easily, and if it weren’t for this precise moment, she would have never believed him capable of the feeling.
‘’Where is Daemon, my love?’’ Aemma asks the king who sighs dramatically.
‘’In the Vale, where our father has forced him to venture in order to meet his betrothed.’’
Fear envelopes Rhaenyra’s heart. Ice sneaking through every vein and artery within her and she scrambles to her knees, ripping the pages of the book before her as she stands before her parents with tears in her eyes.
‘’NO!’’ she screams, her heart breaking, her world ending at the thought of Daemon marrying his Bronze Bitch.
Her parents pale, Aemma clutching her throat with wide eyes as Viserys’ mouth parts and his goblet of wine freezes halfway to his mouth.
‘’NO!’’ She hollers again, little foot stamping on the ground and she very nearly loses her balance.
‘’Do – do you understand us, Rhaenyra?’’ Aemma gasps, voice thin and disbelieving.
Rhaenyra nods, her head still wobbling on her fat, child-like neck.
‘’Don’t… don’t be foolish, Aemma!’’ Viserys laughs airily, his denial clear as he shakes his head.
‘’NO!’’ Rhaenyra’s cry echoes loudly and her father shuts his eyes with a wince.
‘’Sweetling… what are you saying no to?’’ Aemma lands on her knees before her daughter and Rhaenyra cups her mothers chin.
‘’No.’’ she says again, firmly and Aemma searches her face intently.
‘’Are you against your uncle getting wed, my sweet?’’
Rhaenyra nods again. Words failing her, frustration making her tiny hand clench and bunch in the ruffles of her dress.
‘’Why, my love?’’ Aemma frames her tiny face.
‘’Aemma, don’t – ‘’
‘’’Hush, husband.’’ Aemma spits over her shoulder with vitriol and finality.
‘’Tell me, Rhaenyra.’’
‘’M…- ‘’
‘’Mmm?’’
Rhaenyra begs the gods who have cursed her and sent her back for the courage and the strength needed for this.
‘’MINE!’’
Aemma smiles warmly.
Viserys curses harshly and drains his cup.
‘’I will speak to the Spring Prince upon his return from his hunt.’’ Aemma whispers and Rhaenyra leans forward to bestow a sodden kiss upon her cheek.
***
‘’Surely, you jest father?!’’ Daemon cackles uproariously as he points towards her; held in her mothers arms, her eyes never leaving his face.
The Spring Prince sighs at his sons theatrics. ‘’I have made my decree, Daemon. You are to wed your niece when she comes of age.’’
Daemon howls with mirth, the sound travelling between the pillars of the great hall and all within stare in confusion at the former King of Westeros as he speaks.
‘’Are you displeased by this development?’’ the wizened, grey haired male growls and Daemon wipes tears from his eyes.
‘’No. No, father – I am pleased beyond every greatest measure. Truly.’’ He sniggers, his hand over his heart and Rhaenyra giggles pleasantly at his hilarity. He turns to her, three long strides towards her and he reaches for her.
She all but leaps into his arms.
‘’Mine.’’ She says roughly into the crook of his neck and the lords and ladies of Kings Landing all gasp, scandalised.
‘’How came you to this decision, father?’’ Daemon dares to ask and the Spring Prince simply smiles.
‘’I did as I was asked by my granddaughter.’’
****
The conversation she had with her grandfather had been an experience she would not soon forget.
The night before his decree was given - she had been brought to his chambers by Aemma, an intensely disapproving King trailing in her wake.
‘’This is absurd, Aemma.’’ Viserys rubs tired hands over his eyes but his wife studiously ignores him.
They are granted entrance and the former King cocks a brow at the lateness of the hour.
‘’It is late, daughter.’’ He remarks and Rhaenyra feels how her mothers fingers tighten around her waist.
‘’This cannot wait, father.’’ Aemma pleads, pushing further into her chambers and placing her daughter on the settee in the corner.
Rhaenyra remains still. Aware that this moment, right here, would be the turning point of her story, their story – if she could make her grandfather understand her wishes.
‘’Forgive my wife, father – I have tried to dissuade her but – ‘’ A hand is lifted and Viserys is silenced.
‘’What is it that you seek from me, Aemma?’’
‘’Speak to my daughter. Ask her questions you would ask a woman grown. Please, indulge me in this and all will become clear.’’
‘’It is late.’’ He repeats sternly and Aemma shakes her head vigorously and points to her child of two summers.
‘’For the love you bear for me, for your granddaughter – I beseech you. I will not ever ask or curry favour with you from this day on if you would but just grant my daughter ten minutes of your time.’ Speak to her of Daemon.’
Rhaenyra wishes she could form the words for eternal gratitude.
‘’Very well. Leave.’’ The Spring Prince barks and Viserys blusters in shock, his elbow tightly clenched by his wife as he is led from the room.
Rhaenyra’s grandfather looks upon her curiously and she matches the tilt of his head as she feels his scrutinising gaze.
‘’I must admit that I find the fact that you are incapable of speech somewhat disconcerting. How am I meant to converse with you?’’ he chuckles, dragging a chair before her and wearily sitting down with a groan.
He is aging rapidly and she recalls that he will not see her fourth birthday. Sadness overwhelms her but she digs deep within to remain composed.
‘’You wish to speak to me of my son?’’ he grunts and she hear his uncertain and awkward cadence.
She nods.
‘’You understand the words that I speak?’’
She nods and his eyes widen a fraction.
‘’Your mother has oft spoken of your old soul. Tell me young one, are you two summers of age?’’
She shakes her head. ‘’No.’’
He shivers, pulling his robe tighter across his chest and drums his fingers upon the wooden armrests.
‘’Have… have you been reborn?’’ he asks with a tinge of wonder in his voice and she vigorously nods.
She shakily holds her hands up, ten fingers on display and she extends and retracts them three times.
‘’Thirty summers?’’ he questions in disbelief and she nods.
‘’This… this is not possible.’’ He breathes and she growls at him. A gurgle, a spit bubble popping at the corner of her mouth.
‘’How has this come to pass?’’ he stands, pacing behind his chair, stealing glance at her, and shaking his head.
She shrugs and points up.
‘’The Gods?’’ his mouth parts in shock.
She nods.
He ambles across to his table, a generous serving of wine filling his glass.
‘’I can scarcely believe it. I have read tales of course, of dreamers, of warriors as fierce as dragons – but if I am to believe mine ears and eyes – you are a legend made flesh.’’
She blinks owlishly and he chuffs in shocked laughter.
‘’Are you happy, my dear granddaughter?’’
Rhaenyra’s heart beats sluggishly.
She shrugs but nods simultaneously.
‘’It must be the most unpleasant dream, to be trapped in a body so young.’’ He comments gently and she sighs in agreement.
‘’Your mother has asked that I speak to you of Daemon. Is this correct?’’
She smiles.
‘’I must confess that I had an inkling that there was more to your bond, the relationship you two share reminds me of my fathers and his sister, Visenya’s.’’
Rhaenyra attempts an eyeroll but only succeeds in nearly toppling over for her efforts. The prince places his hand on her belly and pushes her back, shoving cushions either side of her and she hums in thanks.
‘’Is this about his betrothal?’’
Rhaenyra snarls, spittle flying from her mouth and she nods once, curt in her actions.
‘’I see. And is there a reason why I should not permit this union?’’ he arches a brow as her face darkens, cheeks reddening and her eyes narrowed.
Hardly an intimidating sight on the sight of a two-year-old and the prince merely chuckles.
‘’I see aspects of him within you. That pout. That penchant for trouble. Your flames burn brightly and ferociously.’’
She giggles.
‘’I cannot believe mine ears, truly.’’ He sits before her again, sipping his wine, only a slight tremor in his hand.
‘’You wish to … wed Daemon?’’ he asks curiously, a flash of amusement in his eyes.
‘’Mine.’’ She spits out the third word she can say. No, and Kepa the only other words her voice could clearly pronounce.
‘’He is… mischief personified. Are you certain?’’ The prince chuckles at her glower.
‘’Then answer me this, young one… will he make you happy? Is he, at your side, a decent and loving man?’’
Rhaenyra looks to the floor, tiny fingers playing with the hem of her dress.
Helaena.
Cheese.
Blood.
Aemond.
Rhea.
All the awful and detestable things she allowed, overlooked, silently sanctioned - but there are other memories which flood her in turn and her heart swells with inexplicable joy. She feels the tears well within her eyes.
The sight of him holding his sons as he read to them.
The smile on his face whenever she entered a room.
The kisses, the passion, the sweet and gentle embraces between them in the early hours of the morning.
His loyalty.
His unwavering love.
Rhaenyra stares into the depths of her grandfathers eyes and tears slip quietly down her cheeks.
She nods. ‘’Mine. Mine. Mine..’’ she cries softly. ‘’Y – Yessss’’ she forces out and The Prince sighs, picking her up and hushing her against his chest.
‘’So be it, my old soul. My travelling dragon.’’
***
She is three years old and her uncle has not returned for more than a year. She is a shell of herself, trapped here, immovable in her emotions as she yearns for him.
She has read every book within her small library and when the night comes swiftly with the moon, the dark and cold closing in around her – she sneaks from her bed and practices her words. She speaks for hours into the emptiness of her room and waits for the day of his return.
She will tell him of Otto’s scheming, she will warn him of her mothers untimely demise at the hands of her father. She will tell him every day about how long she has waited for him; how she has loved him now for two lifetimes and will do every time after this as well.
She aches for him to understand.
To know her.
To recognise the soul within but she knows he never will.
He will know the new soul she is crafting for herself. The one without fear, without loss or grief.
She is transforming herself day by day into the person, the woman, she was meant to be and she would mould him as well, to be the heir to the Throne. To be King - when the day came for him to bury his brother, her father.
The candles flicker, and she stares at them in alarm as the begin to peter out one by one as the wicks reach their conclusion. She snaps her book shut and returns it to the shelf. She may be thirty summers old – but on occasions such as now – the dark was just as frightening as when she sat in her chambers alone within Dragonstone - and mourned the death of Daemons passing alone.
***
He returns upon dragon back, Caraxes’ trills and roars thundering through the stone walls of the castle as he circles the Keep.
Rhaenyra lifts the hem of her dress and runs.
She ignores the pleas of her father to be careful, her mothers laughing encouragement; the hushed cursing of the kings guard following closely behind her.
She does not stop until the pain within her slight body becomes unbearable.
Rhaenyra pants harshly, purple eyes casting her gaze around the courtyard before the dragonpits entrance and she waits.
She waits for him to appear.
She longs to see the sunshine on his silver hair. She longs to see the creases around his eyes as she smiles down upon her. She yearns for his voice to say her name.
The soft thudding of leather boots on stone perk her ears and she straightens her spine, clasping her hands behind her back.
She closes her eyes and counts backwards from ten.
Ten…
Thud…
Nine…
Thud…
Eight.
Thud, thud, thud.
‘’Rhaenyra.’’
She opens her eyes and her world brightens instantly. Colours bloom and burst, scents increase and magnify – her heart reaches the crescendo of a hummingbirds wings and she laughs brokenly up at him as he towers over her three-foot frame.
‘’Have you missed me, little dragon?’’
‘’I have missed you for an eternity, uncle.’’ She whispers as tears escape the corner of her eyes.
He drops to his knee before her, eyes wide and roaming her face.
He has never heard her speak. They have never conversed.
‘’I have so much to tell you, uncle.’’ She cups his face and he closes his eyes at her touch.
‘’So very, very much.’’ She kisses his left cheek.
‘’I have waited a lifetime to tell you - that I know you.’’ she kisses his right cheek.
‘’That I see you.’’ lips press against his nose.
‘’That you are everything, and more, to me.’’ she kisses his forehead and he sucks in a breath between clenched teeth.
‘’And that I love you. I love you. I love you. As I have when I last drew breath in my old life, and as I will continue to do, so long as I draw breath in this one.’’
He crumbles, wrapping his arms around her shuddering body, and he whimpers into the crook of her neck.
‘’I see you. I know you. You are loved. You are mine.’’
His quiet chuckle of surrender turns her head to the blue, blue skies above and she is whole again once more.
****