Keeper

Legacy

"Yes. It is." She turned her eyes down to her hand where a beautiful ring sat on her left index finger. "As is that ring on your finger. It's our mothers."

Daenerys froze and twisted the band back and forth between her fingers. "It was the only thing of hers I managed to keep." She whispered. "When Viserys and I were beggars, his last resort to be able to feed us both was selling mother's crown." Rhaella's breath caught in her throat. That crown had been beautiful and so uniquely her mothers that the thought of it in the hands of some commoner made her stomach twist. "They called our brother The Beggar King. I think it was a fitting title."

"Your marriage to the Khal made you stronger." She stated. "I imagine he hurt you in ways I can't comprehend. I never had to suffer the things you did. Much of what happened to me was circumstantial. I was humiliated, betrayed, mocked.. all for how I felt. I was never raped, never abused.." Her voice drifted off. "I think being married to him taught you many lessons you applied in your ruling of Meereen and will apply in Westeros. The Dothraki taught you cruelty, taught you ruthlessness. That's something you'll need for the type of people you'll be ruling."

"You sound like you speak from experience." Daenerys replied.

"I do." She hadn't told anyone about the man she'd killed during Cersei's Walk of Shame. Not even Jaime. "I believed the common people to be good, kind folk.. but then one of them, he-" Daenerys reached across the gap and laid her hand on top of Rhaellas, urging her to continue. "Touched me in a way no man, unless he is my husband, should be touched. And no highborn wants to marry a woman who cannot conceive his heirs."

"Now that I understand." Daenerys moved to refill her wine glass. "Let me tell you the story of Rhaego."

And so they spent their time from dusk until dawn talking. About pain and loss, grief and hardship, loyalty and love. Daenerys constantly remarked that the more she heard about their mother, the more she saw similarities between the two. Rhaella and Rhaella. I imagine they got confused quite a bit.

Alive, warm and safe, Princess Rhaella Targaryen laughed alongside her sister and finished the decanter of wine as they talked about House Targaryen and its legacy.

***

Freedom. That was the only word Rhaella could use to describe what flying on the back of her dragon. It had been a trial for Rhaegal to trust her enough to get on him, but she found after several futile attempts that all three of Daenerys' children understood Valyrian.

All three dragons were wary of her as soon as she came onto the cliffs where they were resting. Drogon even went as far as to roar right before her, wings spread out so far that they expanded over the cliffs. She didn't move, didn't flinch, and that seemed to catch his attention. She showed absolutely no fear in the sight of her sister's children.

"Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor." Rhaella murmured. She slowly extended her hand to rest against Drogon's nose, fingers spread evenly against the rough skin as he leaned into her touch. "A dragon is not a slave."

She saw the darkness shrouded in Drogon. The winged shadow. The largest and the most powerful of Daenerys's children.

Her attention turned to Viserion. Named after Viserys. For he will do what my brother could not.

And finally her eyes fell on Rhaegal. Named after The King Who Never Was, born for their valiant brother who had fallen on the Banks of the Trident. "Rhaegal," Rhaella called out. The dragon turned narrow eyes to her and growled lowly as she approached him. "Gaomagon daor zūgagon, syt iksan aōha keeper. Kesan gaomagon skoros aōha muña daor."