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In another world, Rhaenyra had chosen to watch the tourney with Alicent. In this one, however, driven by a strange fear, she decided to spend time with her mother despite her father's protests.
Due to that, she got the first row in the barbaric mummer’s play that played out in the Queen’s chambers under the King’s orders.
“Father, please! I beg you to reconsider!” She cried out, her pleas mixing with her mother’s. “You love her, don’t you? She will not survive this, please pleasepleaseplease-”
“Rhaenyra, I-” he started but then stopped himself. Rhaenyra, on the other hand, didn’t dare to stop her pleading.
“Please, Father, I beg you, please, don’t kill her. There is no certainty that the child will surv-”
“Princess, be careful of the words you say.”
She stared at her mutedly, begging with her eyes, not paying any attention to the Grand Maester. Her father was still avoiding her eyes. It seemed like an eternity when he finally broke the silence.
"My daughter, I- we are the rulers of this vast Kingdom. Gods have blessed us with all the luxuries and bountiful treasures that we enjoy without any care, but this comes at a price. We must fulfill our duties, all of us. Giving an heir to the Kingdom is the least of our responsibilities, and today, we must make the sacrifice.”
She was enraged. “But it’s not you who is making the sacrifice, you are sacrificing mother! How is that fair?”
“Enough, Rhaenyra, do not interfere in matters that do not concern you.”
But this did concern her. This was her mother that her father was so mercilessly butchering.
She lifted her chin, every inch a proud princess she was. “I won’t let you.”
The Hand, who was supposed to supervise the tourney in the absence of the King, had also arrived. “Forgive us, Princess, but it is not up to you.”
It didn’t matter. Not to her. How could she leave her mother to the mercy of these heartless men? So she fought. With words. With hands. She fought until the guards dragged her outside the chambers. She screamed so loud, yet none of her shouts could drown out her mother's. Instead, both voices combined, giving an eerie feeling in the wing.
When her mother had quieted down, Rhaenyra’s voice had also lowered to a whisper. She went boneless, falling down in a heap on the floor, the guards letting go of her arms upon finding no more resistance from her.
Another eternity passed, and the door to the birthing chamber opened. Rhaenyra had no energy to move a single inch from where she was sitting on the floor.
“Gods have blessed us with a Prince, Baelon Targaryen.”
She remained still. The midwife hesitated.
"The Queen…" she trailed off, not daring to invite the wrath of the Princess upon her. The young girl still did not move from her silent vigil. It seemed as if she was not listening to any of them. The midwife bit her lip and made way for another woman to carry the newborn to the prepared nursery. Behind them, an entire procession of midwives started. The last to come out was the Grand Maester and the Hand. But the King dared not show his face. The two men murmured to each other, and Maester also exited.
Rhaenyra did not know how much time had passed when two hands tried to lift her from the floor.
“Princess?” Alicent inquired, trying to lift her head. “Rhaenyra, can you hear me?”
She still stared ahead mutedly, stubbornly remaining quiet. The other girl sighed.
“Princess is in shock, Father. It should not be a surprise, considering the events.”
She had faced such tragedy, and even now, the man looked as uncaring as always.
"She is the Princess, Alicent. What happened was distressing no doubt, but she has no right to question the wisdom of King or stop the Queen from doing her duty."
Unseen by everyone, the young Princess's hands curled into a fist.
“Death of a loved one is never easy.”
“She is not the only one to lose their loved one. And yet the King bears his grief with much more grace than her.”
Her nails dug into her palms, drawing blood.
“Still, Father-”
“Take her to her chambers. Already, a lot more ruckus had been made than necessary.”
Alicent sighed and went back to her attempts at rousing the Princess. But it still proved ineffective.
It was not until the King himself exited that the Princess stirred. The man kneeled down in front of her.
“Rhaenyra?”
She mumbled something.
“What-”
“Muderer.” She whispered. Viserys could not believe his ears.
“Rhae-”
She lifted her head and hissed out, "Murderer."
Viserys swallowed bile and tried once more to shake his daughter out of her stopper.
“My child, please. I am in as much pain as you are-”
His head whipped to the side. A moment later, pain exploded in the left side of his face. He registered something sharp cutting into the fragile skin of his face, but it was gone in the exact moment as Kingsguards dragged her daughter off of him, stopping her from gouging out his eyes.
She was screaming again.
“MURDERER! YOU KILLED MY MOTHER! OTHERS HAVE YOU, KING VISERYS, FOR BUTCHRING MY MOTHER LIKE A FISH! MAY THE GODS CURSE BE ON YOU, KINSLAYER! YOU DISGUSTING PEACE OF-”
All of them were shocked at the sudden attack of the Princess on the King. No one was more shocked than the "victim," however. Viserys sat there, kneeling on his knees, clutching his face. He was probably unaware of the long gash that one of Princess’s rings had left on his cheek.
“MAY YOU BE DAMNED TO BURN IN THE DEPTH OF SEVEN HELLS YOU WRETCHED MAN! MAY YOU DIE A LONG AGONISIZNG, PAINFUL DEATH YOU CUR-”
Finally, the Hand moved. “The Princess is in hysterics. Take her to chambers and send the Grand Maester to ensure she gets adequate sleep.”
The men obeyed his orders since it was evident that the King was frozen in shock. They lifted the screaming Princess and dragged her towards her chambers. The young girl did not stop screaming, even when they came across many maids, servants, and some stray nobles who had returned early from the tourney. She only quieted when they shoved her into her room and locked the door. Rhaenyra leaned against the door and slid down.
"She was worth more than any baby," she whispered, finally crying.
“I can understand what you are going through, Rhaenyra.”
She remained listless, not moving from her bed. Even Alicent’s cajoling could not rouse her from her stupor.
“Please, just a few bites, you have to eat something, Rhaenyra! How can you hope to go on if you remain like this?”
Nothing.
Alicent took a long breath to calm herself down. There was no use in remaining here.
Rhaenyra still did not move when her friend exited her chambers.
“The Prince is dead, your highness.”
Rhaenyra gave no reaction as she sat there, hugging her knees and looking out to the open sky from the window. The maid curtsied and exited the chamber.
It had been a day since her mother died, and now, so did her brother.
She wanted the world to stop at this moment so that she would stop feeling the void inside her. So that everything would just stop.
It was almost midnight when she stirred.
"Bring one of my simpler gowns. I want to visit the King." She ordered, and the maid hurried to obey her. Quickly dressed and with hair tied up in a loose braid, she made her way towards her father's chambers, wanting to see him for some strange reason.
But before she could enter the chambers, the Kingsguard stopped her.
“You cannot go inside, Princess.”
“I want to see him right now.”
The man still did not move. “No one is allowed inside, Princess.”
She was equally stubborn. “And I said,” she stepped closer, glaring at the man. “Get out of my way.”
The man would not budge, so she shoved him aside. There was no comparison between their strengths; however, he was afraid to hurt the Princess, so he could not do much. The Princess opened the door with swiftness, but then she stilled in the threshold.
Her father, the King, looked up at the sound of violently opening doors of his chambers. But her father was not alone. Alicent stood close to him, with her hand on his shoulder.
Rhaenyra looked at them, taking in minute details with a speed that would surprise her septa. The King was sitting near the hearth, with his hands hanging from his knees, while Alicent stood so close to him, standing in an ill-fitting dress that bared her shoulder.
The Princess looked at both of them with betrayal in her eyes.
“How could you?” She whispered, and both of them panicked.
“This is not what it looks like-”
Rhaenyra strode forward, grabbed the Valyrian dagger from the table, and unsheathed it. The King stood up, trying to prevent any more attacks from his daughter, but the girl in question had not moved forward to do anything to them except waving it in the air.
“No, you can’t do this, no,” she chanted, ignoring the pleas of both to put down her dagger. “No nononono-”
“Rhaenyra calm down, please, this is all just misunderstanding, please put down the dagger…”
"NO," The Princess screamed and rushed out. Guards followed her, under her father's orders, to stop her from doing something dangerous. He will care for me only when he thinks I may harm myself; she scoffed bitterly and increased her speed. When she reached her solar, she hurried to close the doors with a bang and threw herself on the chaise. The maids and guards banged on her door, afraid she might kill herself.
As if the King could get rid of her that easily.
“Zaldrītsos?”
She refused to move even when her uncle’s voice called out.
“Rhaenyra, please, open the door.”
She remained silent.
“Rhaenyra, everyone is panicking right now. Please, don’t do this.”
"Go away." Her voice was muffled from where she had shoved her face in the pillows, but it was loud enough to carry her voice. It was clear that they had heard her because all the shuffling stopped, and her uncle let out a relieved breath.
“That still doesn’t solve the problem. Your maids have told me you have not eaten anything.”
She didn’t bother answering again.
There was another shuffling sound and some rustling. Her uncle called out to her again, but he sounded a bit far.
“Alright, I will spend the night here, in your solar. I will not move until you come out.”
When she finally came out the following day, she found her uncle sprawled on one of the chairs near the hearth.
She refused to acknowledge it, but she felt a little warm nonetheless.
“The King is worried about you.”
Silence.
“It was not how it looked like.”
Alicent was speaking to her from behind the door. Rhaenyra had locked herself back in her room after her uncle departed after making sure she had swallowed down a few bites.
“Rhaenyra, please, try to understand, this is all just a misunderstanding-”
“Then what was it?” her voice was scratchy from disuse. Alicent wanted to be anywhere but here.
“I just went there to comfort him-”
“In the middle of the night? With a dress that bared your shoulders? You wanted to comfort him after what he had done?”
She closed her eyes. Alicent was well aware that no matter what excuse she gave, it would be useless, but she had to try.
“You are growing up, Rhaenyra. Queen Aemma was a kind, gentle soul who departed too early. She will be missed deeply. But Rhaenyra, you have to understand your father’s perspective. He is a King, he need heirs. The Queen had to do her duty. Childbirth is the battle field for us women, and your mother faced it admirably. But this is a treacherous battle, childbirth, and she could have died nonetheless even if the Maester had not done the procedure to save the baby-”
The door opened with a bang and stalked out a furious Princess.
“So you mean to say that my father did the noble dead of saving the baby by killing Mother?”
Alicent stuttered. “That is not what I meant-”
“You never mean what you say lately, do you?” Rhaenyra hissed, furious beyond imagination. “You say it was not what it looked like, but what were you, an unmarried maid, doing in the rooms of an unknown man during midnight with a dress that was practically falling off your shoulders?” she started to stalk forward, jabbing the older girl’s shoulder who stumbled away from her. “You mean to say that just because my mother had a womb, she should have done everything to give the King a child, even if it killed her? Her life only held value as long as she stuck to the birthing bed. It did not matter that her husband killed her because she could have died regardless, is that what you are saying?”
Alicent flinched, “Rhaenyra-”
“Tell me, what were you doing in his room?”
“Calm down-”
“Don’t tell me to calm down!”
“You are angry right now, I know nothing I say would be enough, but once you have calmed down, I will talk to you.”
“Tell me!”
“Please-”
“TELL ME!”
Alicent stumbled and fell down with a yelp.
“My father told me to console him, alright? He told me to go there, and share the grief of King in his hardest hour. I swear nothing untoward happened-”
Rhaenyra, in a fit of anger, kicked a nearby table, which broke many of the ornaments. A vase shattered, and the pieces of glass rained down on them.
“Fuck him and fuck you Alicent! All of you are treacherous cunts who deserve nothing but the worst!”
Alicent genuinely feared that the Princess might have harmed her had the guards not intervened. She made her escape. On the other hand, Rhaenyra boiled with frustration in the closed walls of her room.
Alicent was truly naive if she thought Rhaenyra could not understand the meaning behind her visit to the King. She had grown in court, and even if she was not wise to the world's depravities, she knew enough. She had grown up in the court. Her uncle was the Rogue Prince. How could she not understand what Otto Hightower was trying to do?
That despicable man…
Despair choked her. No one would help her, she was aware. But she can’t give up. She won’t give up.
One way or another, Aemma Arryn would be avenged.
Alara had not wanted to enter the Princess's room, fearing for her life after the recent fit. But it was her turn in that wing, so she gathered her measly courage and went there.
She was as quiet as a mouse, cleaning and fixing everything when the Princess called her.
“Come here.”
Alara trembled but obeyed.
“What is your name?”
“Alara, Princess.”
“Alara, huh?” the Princess mused. “Tell me, Alara, how old are you?”
“I will be ten and seven next month, Princess.”
“So old. Are you married yet?”
“No, Princess.”
“Got your eye on anyone?”
Despite her resistance, she blushed. “Yes, Princess.”
“But you are getting older, are you not worried your time will pass before you can even get married?”
She hesitated. “Begging your forgiveness, Princess, it’s not that we don’t want to marry. It’s just that we don’t have enough coin to start our family. We are just waiting to earn enough before we have a child.”
The Princess leaned forward. "That is wise of you. However, I cannot imagine you get enough coin from your emplyments to start your family any sooner?”
She shook her head.
“How about I solve your problem?”
Her eyes widened. “Pardon?”
The Princess hummed. “I am offering you help. I can give you coin. Jewelry too, if you want. Whatever you like, you will have it.”
Nothing came without a price. Alara was always mindful of that. “But why, Princess?”
Her eyes glinted in the dark. “It’s simple. I help you, you help me. Sounds fair, no?”
She thought over it. There was no harm in listening to her. Worse comes to worse, she refused.
“What do I need to do, Princess?”
The Princess grinned.
“Nothing much. Keep an eye on a few people. Report me their movements. Include other servants if you want to, they will get rewarded to. A whisper here, a whisper there, understood?”
The capital was rife with rumors.
Everyone gossiped about the Princess’s hysterics. Even if Daemon Targaryen cut out the tongues of those gossipmongers, the truth was that there were too many to go after. Who had not heard of Princess calling the King a kinslayer and, later on, her only lady in waiting a traitor and whore? Surely, the girl had gone insane. She was a woman, after all. No one could fault them for their feeble minds.
But in the darkness, whispers grew. People started keeping an eye on the Hand of the King. But the most scrutinized by the masses were the King and the young Lady, Alicent Hightower. It had been mere days since the Queen died (the death itself was now questioned by some who loved conspiracies), and Princess had accused Lady Alicent of seducing the King. Well, not outright, but even an innocent sentence could be twisted in a snake pit like King's Landing.
But inevitably, the direction of every rumor would turn back to the Princess. Because of her "delicate condition," the funeral was delayed. She was brought out to see her mother's face one last time, and she had thrown another fit. The Maester had to forcefully pour the essence of nightshade down her throat to calm her down. Even today, when it seemed like the Princess had finally calmed enough to be brought out to the masses for the funeral, she had burst into tears randomly without any apparent reason. She would not say a word; only her sobbing grew louder and louder. In the end, the King sent her back.
Prince Daemon had protested, calling it cruel that his niece would not be allowed to partake in her mother’s funeral and burn her pyre. Let the girl cry. It was her mother. How could you expect her to be sane after everything? He had claimed, but the King, in a heartless manner, had refused to listen to his brother. The pyre would be lighted by his brother, and that was the end of it.
Despite their displeasure, everyone had bowed to the King's order, even the Rogue Prince. One such displeased figure was of Syrax, the golden dragon of the Princess. The she-dragon had grown agitated since the Princess started suffering attacks of hysteria. Even today, when she was released, she had remained calm only until Princess began crying. The dragon keepers tried to chain her back after the person to light the pyre was changed, but the she-dragon had none of it and took to the skies as soon as the men came closer. Prince Daemon contemplated going after the dragon for a moment but then thought better of it, going instead to Caraxes and secretly sneaking into his niece's room to check on her.
The funeral had almost started by now. Many of the guests had arrived; they were to wait for another half hour for the stragglers to arrive. Even when the embalmed corpse of the Queen and her son was lying before them, the nobles still didn't hesitate to mingle, although they kept their voices low. How could they not? So much happened in just a few days; there was so much to discuss!
Although no one dared to say anything, it could not be hidden that the delegation from Vale looked on at the pathetic figure of the King with disgust, not only for killing the Queen but also for entertaining the visits of a young maiden so soon after his wife died. Out of everyone, it was perhaps the Vale Lords who did not hesitate to believe in what Princess claimed and decried every rumor about her going mad. But with the Hand whispering in the King's ear, what could they do?
Only a few minutes were left before they heard a dragon roar. Many thought it to be Caraxes but were soon proven wrong when the golden figure of Syrax swooped over them. A moment later, they realized that she-dragon wasn't circling them; it was preparing to dive down. Even then, they did not panic, not until the Dragon landed with a thud, crushing the figure of the Grand Maester brutally under her paws.
Chaos broke. Everyone started to run, except for the King, who stood there, frozen in fear. The dragon's eyes locked on his figure as she stalked towards him, like a predator hunting prey. Despite his famed blood, the Targaryen was as helpless as a commoner when Syrax’s maw shoved him on his back, snarling low in her throat. The dragon was distracted from her hunt when it was hit by an arrow. She roared in displeasure and swiveled to breathe fire at those who dared to stop her.
All the guards found themselves on fire and ran to save their lives. In perhaps a rare self-preservation instinct, Otto also ran after them, but Syrax was one determined dragon. She followed behind his heels, snapping at his back. She savagely chomped on his figure and shook her head again like a dog.
It was clear to onlookers that his death was an agonizing one. His body snapped in half, not because the dragon had bitten into him, but because Syrax shook him hard enough to force the skin and bones apart. This was a long and arduous process, for the man in question, not for the dragon. It was clear she was enjoying herself.
Satisfied, she turned back to her original prey. King Viserys had also gotten up and tried to escape but was unsuccessful, considering how much he was stumbling. Blood dripping from her maw, Syrax stalked forward. The back of his tunic caught in her teeth, and Syrax furiously shook herself, trying to dislodge the fabric from her maw. She succeeded, and the figure of the King was sent flying in the air. In a rare bout of agility and speed for her, Syrax spread her wings and took to the sky, swatting the man in the air as if he were naught but a child's toy. She tore off one of his legs on one of those swats, followed by an arm. As the onlookers looked on in horrified fascination, the King lost all his limbs one by one. Syrax was playing with him as if he was naught but a ball.
It was then that the Prince Daemon finally arrived on his own dragon, Caraxes. Alarmed by the scene, he shouted at the she-dragon, Caraxes squealing under him. No one knew Valyrain; otherwise, they would have known that the Rogue Prince was ordering Syrax to let go of his brother, who was dangling by the only arm left on his body from her mouth.
In a terrifying display of human emotion, the golden dragon grinned and opened her mouth. You told me to let him go, she could have said if she could speak. They were several feet in the air, so he fell when she let go of her pray. His younger brother dove down to catch, but he did not possess enough power to fight against gravity. The limbless body of the King hit the ground, breaking many of his bones in the process. The man was barely alive when Prince Daemon reached him, desperately checking his pulse.
Syrax was not interested in them anymore. She flew back to find her final target and hovered above the ground. Alicent had been wailing about the brutal death of her father, but found her voice stuck in her throat when the Dragon finally turned her attention towards her. She closed her eyes, submitting herself to fate. Syrax neared her, and when there was not much distance left, she roared loudly, her stinking breath hitting Alicent, who was already having problems holding down her food.
She was surprised to find the dragon backing away from her. She stared at the golden figure of the dragon, who had now retaken to the skies and circled the Red Keep.
The nobles only calmed down after Prince Daemon arrived on his dragon. He took charge and started herding all the guests towards the carriages. It was evident that the funeral was not going to happen again. Everyone hurried to obey him because he was the only authority figure left.
Upon reaching the Red Keep, the final count of all lives lost was taken. Grand Maester had been crushed to death, while the Hand’s horrifying end was seen by everyone. The Kingsguards were down half their numbers, and many other Royal guards had died. The King was clinging to life after Prince Daemon cauterized his wounds to stop the blood loss, but no one was deluded enough to think he would survive.
Rhaenyra smiled,
"Cheers, Mother," she held up a vial as if to toast an unknown figure and gulped down the contents. As she lay on the bed, she finally felt the burning fire inside her calming down to mere ambers.
An hour later, after everyone had settled, a commotion started in Princess's chambers. Surprisingly, it was not the resident of the wing but the Prince Daemon who created the ruckus.
“How long had she been like this? Did no one bothered to check upon her? I specifically asked my men to check upon her when I was called way to deal with Syrax, you noticed nothing?”
The Gold Cloak cringed. “We thought she was sleeping, Your Grace. We never could have imagined that it was by unnatural means.”
Daemon growled low in his throat. His first thought after delivering his brother to the healing chambers was to check on his niece.
He whirled around, barking out orders. “Summon all the maesters and healers! Bring all of them here right now.”
“But Your Grace,” a man called out hesitantly. “Many of the maesters and healers are busy with the King. Should we call them off?”
The Prince hesitated, but only for a moment. “It is regrettable, but the healers have already confirmed they can do nothing for the King. There is no use in them surrounding his bed. Send for all but two. Princess can still be saved; she is the priority right now.”
The men obeyed and rushed to carry out his orders. Satisfied that healers would care for his niece, he started his investigation.
"You!" he called out sternly to a young maid hovering around the chambers' entrance. "I have been seeing you around here these days. Who gave the vial of the essence of nightshade to Princess?"
She hurried forward, bowing down in a frightened manner. “Your Grace, no one gave her the vial. She had been given essence of nightshade every day since Lady Alicent’s visit.”
He was appalled. “What do you mean giving her daily? That shit is addictive!”
If possible, she would have been touching the ground with her forehead. “The Maester claimed that she was having fits of hysterics and there was no choice but to give her medicine daily. Lord Hand also agreed. And today, the King was present while they poured it down her throat.”
He growled. What was wrong with his brother lately? Debasing his own daughter for what? So that she couldn’t even mourn properly? Or to hide his own misdeeds?
The maid looked up at him and started hesitantly. “Your Grace, forgive my rudeness, but may I be allowed to say something?”
He gestured to her to continue.
“Princess had been perfectly fine except for the first day. When she talked with me, there was no sign of madness in her speech. Even her behavior was fine, that of a sane person. It was only after the Maester, Lady Alicent, or the Hand visited that’s she would throw fits, at which points the guards would grab her toforce her to drink the medicine.”
He stared at her. “You mean to say… that she is like this because of they forced drugs down her throat and not because she was grief stricken or tried to take her life?”
The maid trembled. "No, my Prince, she could never! How could she even think to take her own life! She was very sad and thought the King would not want her here anymore now that Lady Alicent was here. She had mentioned to me once or twice that she would go to Vale to her mother's maiden home as soon as the funeral was held. She had even sent a missive by my hands to the Vale delegation. You can even ask them if you don't believe me!"
She was right. Daemon could not believe it. Could his brother stoop so low to squash the voices of him being kinslayer and falling into bed with the handmaiden of his own daughter only a day after his wife died?
There were whispers of Syrax going rogue. But there were also whispers of the Princess affecting her dragon with her madness. No doubt, some would be calling to put down the dragon, which Daemon would never allow. Dragons were the might of their house, their symbol. How could he take more from his niece when his brother had already done so much?
He had only thought to check on her since he was interrupted before. And to also discuss what to do now that the rampage had occurred. He never imagined that he would find her pale figure, lips almost blue, and her breath stuttering in her chest.
Never had he thought that he would stumble on such conspiracy in his own home, around Rhaenyra.
Now he understood why Syrax had been so agitated the past week and had gone on a rampage today. He had never thought Rhaenyra’s bond with Syrax was the strongest, but undoubtedly, the dragon had felt her rider's impending doom and sought to punish all the culprits. If that was the case, Daemon would not one word of prosecution rise against his niece and her dragon.
Syrax had protected her rider as she saw fit. Who was he to deny her?
And thus, he proudly declared to the court the next day that neither his niece nor her dragon would be harmed. Syrax was in her right to protect her rider, and dragons had no concept of monarchs or authority figures. How could she have known that the man hurting her human was her father and a King at that?
He was right. Protests were immediately voiced out, most from the Hightowers. They wanted to put the dragon down so it could never harm anyone again. Daemon proposed that if they made the daughter of Otto Hightower confess her father's crimes of abetting in the murder of the Queen, her seducing the King, and both of them poisoning the only living child of the monarch, he would consider doing something. Somehow, the word spread that Alicent Hightower would be made to walk the Walk of Atonement. In the privacy of his chambers, Daemon scoffed. The court was, as always, a churning mass of snakes who would twist one thing to another. What would he get from forcing such shame on the girl? Sending her to Silent Sisters would be enough so she couldn't scheme for her father's revenge. He had told her as much when he summoned her. He had no tolerance for traitors, and if Rhaenyra thought her to be one despite Syrax sparing her life, he wouldn’t be contrary.
As expected, the Old Town refused to have such shame brought upon them. Daemon didn't voice any objection, banishing them from the Kings Landing altogether. No Hightower sympathizer would ever set foot in Targaryen territories in his reign. The girl also accepted her fate, even when she was angry. Her voice had been the loudest in punishing the golden dragon, but Daemon was not Viserys, and she knew that nothing she tried would work on her.
Voices died down, replaced by the tales of a dragon coming to the rescue of its rider. Where before, the stories of knights rescuing Princesses were common, now, tales of dragons coming to save the Princess instead spread out. These stories also held a cautionary tale; it didn't matter if you were the kin or the King, the dragon would always protect its rider. It was this myth that saved the lives of many Targaryen princesses in the future.
The whispers grew into admiration when, a few days later, the Princess herself appeared to light the pyre of her mother and brother. Syrax, who had been the center of nightmares for many, was lazily strutting up and down the hill, being as docile as a cat under her rider’s watchful eye.
For now, Rhaenyra slowly recovered under the protective shadow of her uncle. She learned to smile again, to laugh again, and to take joy in life again. She made new friends, happily married, and cradled her beautiful children under the watchful eye of her Kepa.
She never told anyone that it was her who had controlled Syrax. That it was her who had made sure that Otto Hightower would die slowly for daring to utter those words about her mother. That it was she who looked through the eyes of her dragon at Alicent and gave her warning. That she was the one who made sure that her father felt every inch of agony, he had forced on her mother.
She never regretted her actions, not even once. Her father was a sheep, and she was a dragon. Why should she bow to a sheep?