Children of Dragons | Aemond Targaryen

Before: part 2

Rhaenyra's eyes were closed as she leaned her head back, letting the sea salt seep into her skin from her place on a balcony on the island of Driftmark. She had needed a minute to gather her thoughts following the events of the past few hours, days, years.

The Targaryen family, rife with conflict and tension had found itself reunited after years apart. Reunited by death.

Complications during the birth of her third child killed Laena Velaryon on another continent, not long after she had begged Daemon to return to their homeland.

Daemon Targaryen, the king's roguish younger brother and Rhaenyra's uncle had wed Laena some years ago. They had two daughters, Baela and Rhaena, twins a year younger than Rhaenyra's eldest son Jace, while they were away from Westeros, living in the Free Cities in Essos.

Rhaenyra hadn't seen him in years. But the memory of why he left remained sharp in her mind. Their relationship had grown beyond what her father wanted. The king had wanted his daughter to remain pure and to be married off to whomever he chose. She had wanted nothing but to be free. Be free and wild. Able to fly her dragon as she pleased, fuck who she pleased, marry who she pleased. She had wanted Daemon.

But time had changed her, as it is ought to do. Now, she wanted nothing more than to protect her children, protect the realm. Her father had chosen her as his heir, and she would do so with strength and grace.

Rhaenyra turned towards the mourners behind her. Near the other edge of the balcony, her father spoke to his brother. The health of King Viserys had steadily declined in the time she had been gone. He walked with a cane and couldn't say more than a few words without falling into a fit of coughs. She could imagine what he and Daemon spoke about. Their time apart, life in King's Landing, general sympathies for the gulf of distance that had continued to grow between them.

Daemon caught her eye and she turned away quickly, her cheeks burning. She still wanted Daemon. She realized he was the only one who might understand. They burned dragonfire together, they had lost love together. Maybe they could find it again.

His silence at the ceremony was enough for Rhaenyra to understand the pain that tormented him. She had eyed him throughout, her reignited desire tempered only by the mournful occasion and the judgment of the queen and her followers.

Laena's funeral had been a tense affair. Amidst the ancient traditions of House Velaryon, the Greens and the Blacks were at a stalemate. Silent resentment settled over the attendees. The shooting glares and pointed neglect were almost uncomfortable for Rhaenyra to sit through. She adjusted her dress as she looked out at the sea. She could not stop thinking about the customs of earlier in the day. Laena's body had been placed in an ornate casket carved with a fantastical image of her, beautifully depicting the lovely woman. Laena's uncle said a few words before they dumped the box in the dark water where it sank to the seafloor alongside all the ancestors dumped before her.

Rhaenyra thought of their time together fondly. She trusted her, their mutual distaste for the expectations of women of high birth in Westeros. She loved the flaming wildness of the dragonrider who had claimed Vhagar, the largest and oldest living dragon in the world. Rhaenyra had seen the ginormous figure through the mist sulking in the distance, now without a rider. But her cousin and friend's death frightened her. Were the joys of motherhood worth the inevitable threat hanging like a loosened noose around women's throats? Her gaze landed on her children, across a sea of black adorned bodies, Aemma had her arms wrapped around the two boys, their small faces downcast. The full force of what she would do for those children hit her all at once. Oh how far she had come from her own youth when she couldn't even bear to see her friend's swollen belly and know what lay in her future.