Dream Of Winter | C. Stark & H. Targaryen

Island in the Sun

Rhaena knows she'll never forgive him for that. She can't. She just can't. 

The nine year old girl approached the grand hall where her mother lay, the air turned thicker, blending sorrow with incense and tears. It was there, amidst the statues of the Seven and the soft flickering of candles, that she finally gave in to her suppressed emotions. 

Grief overwhelmed her, cascading down her cheeks in silent tears. She stood before the ornate coffin, tracing its edges with trembling fingers. Memories of her mother flooded her mind, each one cutting deeper than the last. They were moments of a life once lived, a life that now hung in the balance of existence and memory. Rhaena couldn't even open the casket if she wished. And it isn't the fear of staring at cold soulless eyes, having that image seared into her mind, that scared her. Instead, a more primal fear of not allowing her mother to be properly put to rest. She'd stay in this room for weeks or moons, not caring for the undoubtedly bloating stinking corpse. 

Vhagar would understand her. 

Mother's final wish was to ride her faithful companion one last time. But the bed fever took her before she reached the old dragoness. The mournful ancient roars echoed through the night. 

Vhagar. Just then she knew the only way to honor her mother's legacy, to embrace her Targaryen blood and become the dragon her mother had always believed she could be. The one her father dismissed her potential to become. 

She wiped her tears, a glimmer of newfound resolve in her violet eyes. The funeral may have marked the end of her mother's earthly journey, but for Rhaena Targaryen, it was the beginning of her own. 

**** 

"While I am disappointed you thought a dragon was something to be inherited like a simple trinket or a piece of jewelry," Daemon addressed them, his voice steady and measured. " I cannot help but commend your actions." 

Rhaena, Baela, Jace and Luke exchanged confused glances. They had expected reprimands, lectures on the importance of restraint, and consequences for their involvement. Instead, their behavior was hailed as commendable. 

"But Father," Rhaena hesitated, her voice reflecting both surprise and concern, "we were complicit in hurting Aemond. We crossed a line, and it is only fair that we face the consequences." 

Daemon's smile was soft but unwavering, carrying a hidden glint, as he interrupted her, "You misunderstand, daughter. What you did was not without cause. The Hightower brat provoked you into aggression. He desecrated your mother's memory by choosing this day of all days to bind himself to her dragon, and by subterfuge no less. The craven's key strategy." 

Rhaena's face was pale and filled with regret. She could feel her own dark thoughts of recrimination haunting her mind, but she never expected her father to revel in her violence, his sick pleasure was alarming. 

"Father, I…I didn't mean..." Rhaena stammered, her words trailing off as she struggled to find the right explanation. She had acted impulsively, fueled by anger and frustration, by her desire to preserve one part of her mother in any capacity. But now, her actions filled her with a terrible sense of guilt. She struck the first blow, and Aemond lost half his sight because of it. 

Princess Rhaenyra nodded in agreement, adding to her father's words. "My half-brother was not blameless, either. I have witnessed his actions towards others, and his cruelty often goes unchecked. The Queen's coddling has made him so. You took it upon yourselves to protect those who could not protect themselves. That speaks volumes about your character." 

Baela's eyes widened, mixed emotions swirling within her. On one hand, she was relieved that their predicament was somewhat understood, but on the other hand, she felt a tinge of guilt for her role in the confrontation. "He still lost an eye. The Maester said he might die."