𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐆𝐨𝐥𝐝

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐩

She sighed, closing her eyes briefly.

Gods.

Her favourite sister approaches her, steps light and discrete. She has a little smile pulling at her lips.

She stands next to her, a few inches taller than Daenerys young form. She would forever deny the irritation it roused within her.

"Mother doesn't listen to me, but you understand, don't you sister?" comes her airy voice, pale, milky eyes, unseeing and dazed.

Alicent kneels next to an emotional Aemon, Heleana stands off to the side, Daenerys next to her.

"You will have your dragon, my son" she whispers softly, stroking his hair comfortingly.

Heleana mutters, hands shaking slightly, "He will have to close an eye".

Alicent paused, turning to Heleana, "silence daughter," she says, "no need to worry your brother with his incessant rambling".

She can not hide the concern as her gaze flickers between sister and brother.

She did understand.

Perhaps not enough.

Perhaps more than anyone ever would.

Was it enough though?

She gripped her hand calmly, relaxing when she didn't pull away.

She refused her sister to perish the way she did before – history had not been kind towards her, the mad princess it whispered – she hated it. What right did they have to question a Targaryen princess?

Of someone of higher standing than them?

She understood, but barely.

She could grasp the meaning, but she was still missing the bigger picture. No dragon would ever settle for an eye when they could have the while thing. No doubt it would have to be a hatchling if it was a dragon who took his eye. Vhagar in all her glory, was slow and old. She wouldn't have been able to do it.

No – it had to have been something else – someone else.

Her gaze travelled to her father who was amicably talking to her grand sire.

She only held disdain to the man who held a part in tearing her family apart. She was not blind to the greedy stares he would give her, no doubt thinking of all the ways he could sell her off.

For his alliances.

It disgusted her. For even despite her dislike towards Rhaenyra – and it was truly immense – she did not deserve the death bestowed upon her.

She threw him a sharp glare, filled with a fiery defiance.

Never again.

She swore to herself she would never be robbed of her freedom. If she ever got married. It would not be taken the same way Viserys did – they way her cruel brother did.

His gaze met hers and she could see the ambition that threatened to overwhelm him. He stared discretely at her, and she could already tell he was creating new ideas, new plans. For what she didn't know, but she could easily recognise the scheming look. The scheming look that alerted her to the fact that he was intelligent and cunning.

'I have met many clever men, and I have outlived them all.'

The memory was so painfully clear that it almost hurt.

Do you know how, my queen?

At the time she didn't, know?

Know she did.