Chapter Text
It was distinctly possible that Ser Erryk was the only reason my legs had not gone completely from underneath me. I took a deep breath as the two dragons got closer and closer and then took another, unable to tear my eyes away from Sunfyre. Sunfyre, the dragon that had devoured original Rhaenya in six bites in another world. Not me, I tried to tell myself. If I had proved anything, it was that I was not original Rhaenyra.
It all seemed so very far away as both Vhagar and Sunfyre came in for landing. I could see both Laena and Aemon now. My son, with an exultant look on his face as he stared out over us all… and Laena, very pale and looking guilty from her seat atop Vhagar. I swallowed and forced a smile onto my face. It would not do for him to see me panicking, to see me disapproving of his mount. I did not doubt that Laena had done her best to steer him away from it.
“Your Grace?” murmured Ser Erryk as Aemon began clambering down from his mount to the loud cheers of the onlookers. “Are you well?”
I took another deep breath. He did not know, none but Laenor, Joffrey and Laena knew, and I could not afford to reveal it any further. Not even to Steffon or Corlys. My knowledge was out-of-date anyway. Helaena would be the one to ask now. Not that she would ever reveal her dreams except in the most dire of circumstances.
“I did not expect his mount to be so large,” I mumbled, turning to face him briefly. He bought my excuse and smiled indulgently. I was a mother worrying for her son’s safety in his eyes, fretting over a dangerous situation as any mother should.
“Yet you can not deny it is a worthy mount for a prince,” he replied, still smiling. Erryk had joined Rhaenyra’s side once. I hoped that smile was genuine. “It fits that he should find the most beautiful dragon in existence.”
It was Sunfyre. It was my death. It was not beautiful. I turned to examine it again as it almost preened under the scrutiny it was receiving. Already Jocelyn had pushed forward to lay her hands against its golden scales. I struggled to keep the frown off of my face as my legs finally began moving and I was able to make my way to my son. He was so close to the creature… but I could not let him see my fear.
“Well done,” I rasped, not daring to turn my head. I could feel its heat even this close and part of me wanted to curl up and cry. “It’s a fine mount.”
Aemon paused, half way through wriggling away from Luke ruffling his hair and turned to look at me, looking suddenly guilty. Likely he thought I was growing agitated at the size of his mount and not… the nature of it.
“Thank you, mama,” he said solemnly and I winced. Did he think it a reflection on himself? I forced myself to crouch down to his height and drew him close. I felt him bury his hands in the thick fabric of my dress and my heart hurt a little.
“I mean it,” I murmured, bringing my hand up to run my fingers through his hair. “I am so proud of you.”
He stayed like that for a moment until Alys’ laughter, said in response to a joke by Rolph, had him pulling away to crane his head curiously at what was being said. I smiled, still painfully aware of the beast preening and grumbling ever so close to me, and tapped him on the shoulder.
“Go,” I said, and he gave me a curious look. “It is your moment in the s- sun.”
I cursed the brief stammer even as I watched him consider that for a second, head tilted slightly in thought, before smiling at me as if I were being foolish and he was preparing to point it out.
“But mama,” he said. “He still needs a name?”
“A name?” I repeatedly hoarsely. It had a name. It… no, it was not Aegon’s mount. It was my son’s. I took another deep breath and Aemon seemed to wither at the action. Mentally, I winced before forcing false cheer into my voice. “Are you not going to name it?”
“Well, you named Morrigan,” he said, as if he were trying to be reasonable. “And auntie Laena says you named Skywalker too.”
“And you want me to name your mount?” I asked, some confusion leaking in. My naming conventions had caused consternation in the past. Naming Jocelyn’s mount for a war goddess from my previous life had left Rhaenys sulking with me for a week and Laena frowning whenever the name was brought up for nearly a month after. Laenor had given in, he’d liked the sound of the name. All of which I pointed to in order to absolve myself months later when an incredibly nice letter had arrived from Lord Morrigen thanking us for the honour…
At least we had a supporter for life in him now.
“Yes,” said Aemon, slowly, as if he were talking to a simpleton. “You have the best names.”
I swallowed and finally peered up at the dragon. He had laid his head down to better allow his adoring fans to crowd in close. I watched as Jocelyn bent down and allowed Alys to scramble onto her back. When she stood up, I could see a grimace on her face even as Alys cooed in delight from her new and better vantage point. My eyes flicked about, not finding Laena nearby and ready to scold her…
“Laenor!” I called. He dragged himself away from the dragon and immediately spotted the issue, giving me a serious nod for all that I could see his eyes sparkling with amusement and delight. He knew well what this dragon was to me and yet… and yet he could not fail to be happy for his son. So why couldn’t I?
“Mama?” said son asked, sounding worried.
“I was thinking,” I replied quickly. Too quickly and too harshly. I watched as he squirmed, my tone making him uncomfortable. “My apologies. Your sisters are-”
“Being Jo and Alys?” he asked, seemingly forcing a smile to his face. I winced at his attempt at good cheer. He should not have to comfort me. I am his mother. I took a deep breath and tried to force the tension from my body, turning to watch Laenor haul Alys onto his own shoulders.
“Yes,” I replied as Alys laughed in delight, reaching out her hands once more to touch golden scales. “But I am curious as to why you won’t name i- him? It is your right as his rider?”
“But I want you to name him,” he said stubbornly, a brief frown marring his features and making him look more like Laenor than ever. I forced a chuckle and that seemed to soothe him, a small smile crossing my son’s face. It was still too much effort to push myself back to my feet and turn to look at Sunfyre in all its glory. Truly, the original Aegon had named his mount well. Even looking at him now, I could think of few names more appropriate. Like liquid gold and beautiful beyond measure, its scales glinting in the early afternoon light…
Yet I could not name the creature Sunfyre. My mouth would not form the words, as if speaking the name would set me on that terrible path to his maw… to be devoured in six bites… I shuddered before I could stop myself. No, I could not name him Sunfyre. Which begged the question, what then? Something related to gold? I searched my memories… certainly no more pop culture references, I think. Skywalker was bad enough.
Something more obscure perhaps. A Valyrian name in the same vein as Rhaenyra’s original children’s dragons? Let me think… Vermax, Arrax… Tyraxes? Perhaps I was misremembering that last one. Or perhaps I was not. All three were the names of Valyrian gods… I suspect they may have originated with original Rhaenyra herself. It seemed the Targaryen’s had delighted in naming their mounts for gods they no longer worshipped.
Over by Sunfyre, Aemma had decided she wished for a turn and was tugging urgently at Laenor’s doublet. I blinked again as I noticed a pouting Rhaena by her side and looked for Laena once more in the crowd only to find no sign of her. No Rhaenys either. Had they left? It certainly did not bode well. I bit my lip at the thought. Laena collected injuries like some people collected interesting novelties. Had she managed to come to some harm on the mountain?
“What about naming him for one of the fourteen?” I finally asked. Aemon tilted his head again.
“I can’t,” he said finally. “He’s beautiful so he should be named for the Goddess of Beauty…”
I saw the issue straight away.
“And Daeron already took that name,” I surmised and Aemon nodded, his eyes shining fiercely. “How presumptive of him.”
“Shrykos is the God of the sky,” I suggested. “Vermax for truth, Tyraxes for the forge… for creation.”
“Vermax…” murmured Aemon. “The father of Vermithor…”
“Indeed,” I replied. “Do you remember your lessons on him?”
Aemon nodded, his eyes gazing into the distance as he thought that over. Finally, he seemed to come to some sort of decision. He nodded to himself and then turned to me with a small smile on his face.
“I like Tyraxes,” he said, tilting his face up to peer at me. “But I like Vermax more.”
Vermax. Jacaerys’ mount had been Vermax… it seemed right somehow that my son and her son should name their dragons similarly. It was a way to honour the boy who died before his time, who should have been king if not for betrayal. Otto was not around now to lure the Triarchy into siding with the Greens, Aemon would not fall in some battle of the Gullet parallel. He would not go to battle at all. He would remain with me, he would stay by my side…
“Vermax it is then,” I decided, feeling a bubble of amusement swell up inside me. Enough that my fear of the beast died a little and it was easier to look at him. Aemon gave a brief squeeze of my hand and raced off, calling out to Luke and Rolph to let him join in on the shoving match they appeared to be having. Evidently Luke’s sulking with Jocelyn did not extend to Rolph… slightly unfair considering the boy had gone along with Jocelyn’s plan enthusiastically, but then they were children, I supposed.
I waited until Aemon was well and truly distracted before turning my attention to the courtyard once more, eyes lingering in the shadows to see if I could spot where my lover had hidden herself. No, she definitely was not present. I glanced back towards the ongoing wonder over Sun- Vermax before turning away entirely and making my way inside the Keep. I knew Rhaenys well enough to know that if Laena was injured, Rhaenys had likely dragged her to Gerardys. I had ensured the man was around, this day out of all days. The Keep was nearly deserted as I made my way to his old tower and to where the injured of Dragonstone were now housed, instead of the old dusty books a Maester was expected to keep… I caught one of his students rushing away from the tower a mere few feet away from it. The man went pale when he saw me, his eyes flickering nervously back upwards told me all I needed to know.
“I take it Lady Velaryon has found her way there?” I asked. He swallowed nervously and looked at everything but my face.
“Princess Rhaenys as well, Your Grace,” he finally managed to stammer out. “The Dean ordered the doors barred to all… Your Grace.”
I blinked slowly at that and drew a breath in. What had she done? With any luck it would only be a bad sprain… surely Aemon would have told me if she had managed to hurt herself severely?
“I see,” I said finally. “Even to me?”
“Your Grace… please understand… that is, every patient has a right to privacy-” I cut him with a wave.
“I know Gerardys' practises well, you need not fear retaliation. In fact, I will commend your attitude to him when I next see him.” He sighed in relief and seemed to slump even as I frowned.
Today had not gone the way I wanted it to.