Fierce, strong, unyielding, untamable. These words the realm whispers when they speak of the youngest daughter of the Seasnake. But when describing his youngest son only one word is needed: greenseer. House Velaryon has a difficult history with the...
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Episode 2, part 2:
"Jiōrna." (Welcome) the Shepherd greeted when they stepped into the colosseum.
Rhaenys nodded at him and responded in High Valyrian, "Kirimvose." (Thank you)
On her left was her son clasping her hand, and holding her right was her daughter. She walked her children across the dirt to where Viserra's beast sat munching on the remains of some goats.
Ariagor.
A huge dragon just a fraction under the size of Meleys. He had deep dark teal scales and bright blue orbs for eyes. Three spikes stuck out around each side of his head with webbing between each one. Behind him two thin tails instead of one were wrapped over his back feet. Letting go of her mother Viserra raced forward, not caring enough to lift her dress to keep the hem from getting dirty. Ariagor turned from the remains of his meal to his young claim as she ran to him. Lowering his head the dragon closed his eyes as Viserra hugged the end of his snout pressing her cheek against his rough skin. The beast was surprisingly large for someone of Viserra's age. As her daughter embraced her beauty Rhaenys thought back to how her daughter had acquired such a magnificent dragon.
Screams echoed through the room where Rhaenys was giving birth to her third born. Only her second pregnancy though and she felt foolish for forgetting how painful it had been the first time. The small battalion of midwives rushed around the room urgently fetching things for the maester. Corlys was away, still on his return journey from his latest expedition. The seas had been particularly rough causing the return trip to take longer then expected.
Rhaenys groaned as her head hit the pillow, her hair sticking to her forehead as she took deep ragged breaths. Only seconds later another wave of pain washed through her body, she felt like a rock along the coastline, being beaten over and over by the waves. Another scream ripped through her throat and an echo of it reached her ears.
No. . . not an echo, a roar.
Meleys. She thought. Her dragon must know the agony her rider was currently in and was baying at the skies. For the next several minutes it continued this way. Pain would rack the Princess's body searing through her veins like wildfire. Meleys would roar, the sound growing ever closer. Rhaenys was certain her dragon would soon be circling her tower in her worry.
Exhaustion overshadowed the pain as the Lady of Driftmark collapsed back on the pillows again. The maester checked her over telling her it would not be much more before she could push. Then, just as the last words left his mouth, the tower shook. The midwives made sounds of fright as Rhaenys looked to the ceiling watching dust fall from high above her. Something shifted in her core, a feeling of something being wrong. That was certainly not Meleys.
Another tremor rocked the room, so much so that she felt the bed shift beneath her. Outside her large windows pieces of roofing fell, some landing on the wide circular balcony, others falling into the courtyard and the sea. A wing, teal like the house sigil appeared as a clawed hand rested on the stone balcony. The midwives nearest the window leapt back in fright as a great spiked head lowered into their view. The beast had no name but Rhaenys recognized it as one of the last wild dragons. Her heart hammered in her chest, if the dragon attacked she was in no condition to flee. She and her unborn child would be burned in her own bed.
