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The screams reverberated through the grim corridors of Dragonstone, sometimes loud and sometimes muffled and Rhaegar's heart pounded as erratic as the waves that crashed against one another. He was terrified, is it okay he had wanted to ask, but that was beneath the stature of a crown prince, his lessons reminded him. He wished his mother was here, but when were his wishes ever fulfilled.
So, Rhaegar simply stared into the horizon, memories of old clouding him as the sun decided to hide behind the vast ocean leaving only darkness to dance around. He tried to recollect, was it a sister or brother, he held in his arms for the first time, and he could not come to any conclusion even after much thought.
I was a child then, he wanted to defend, your mother had too many miscarriages and stillbirths to remember, his fate mocked. Rhaegar felt guilty, his siblings, though dead before even they were named, deserved a chance to be remembered, mourned, atleast in their eldest brother's life.
Blessed with a daughter, the words reached his ears, my wife? was all he could ask in return.
Elia was unconscious in a pool of blood, for Rhaegar, she was wrapped in his cloak, of fire and blood, of red and black.Fire is life, he read once and he knew every ounce of it will be taken from his wife to serve his house, to carry it's name. Didn't the same happen to my mother, Rhaegar thought bitterly.
His daughter stirred in the silken sheets she was wrapped, her eyes trying to adjust to a world that was not dark and safe like her mother's womb. Rhaegar ran a finger down her cheek, tears welled up in her chocolate orbs.
Rhaegar looked up at his hands in distaste, perhaps his battle trained hands were too harsh for his beautiful daughter.
Hold her, Elia extended Rhaenys towards Rhaegar, a small smile forming on her strained face.
I don't know how to without making her cry, Rhaegar blurted out ashamed.
She will stop crying once she understands who you are to her, Elia's voice was soothing.
Rhaegar's hands which somehow stayed calm when he read about the prophecy at 8 names day old, when he held sword out of duty for the first time, trembled while holding his daughter.
Rhaenys cried and his heart sank. Grief and gloom, is all that I represent, Rhaegar sighed inwardly
Craddle her against your chest, Elia pointed out and Rhaegar stared mortified. He placed her soft cheek against his hard chest and awkwardly rocked her.
Much to his surprise, Rhaenys cries were placated soon. She stared with her innocent eyes at him and an alien feeling coursed through Rhaegar's heart.
Happiness, is this what it feels like, Rhaegar asked himself for the first time. Rhaegar Targaryen, the distrustful son of a mad king, the devoured fork of Lords of Westeros, the dull joker in the web of prophecies was just a father in that moment, and nothing else.
His daughter was the light that quelled his darkness away. Rhaegar never woke up gasping for breath, plagued by nightmares when Rhaenys laid innocently on his broad chest, clutching his tunic in her tiny hands. Together, they dreamt of colorful days and starlit nights.
He would beg her for a smile and she would cry for his attention. He would ask for a peck and she would just pull his hair. He would glare and she would giggle. His daughter was the only scent of life in the doom, that his life was.
Patience, Rhaegar reminded himself for umpteenth time when his daughter firmly stood on her tiny wobbling legs, not willing to walk, lips pursued in the same stubborn scowl that her father had. "Come, my love", he would say. And she would flare, like a fiery dragon hatchling she was.
Her first smile was his, her first step was towards him, Kepa, the word she muttered first and his chambers were the first she sought when afraid.
His first smile was hers, his first love was her, happiness, he felt for the first time around her and her tiny arms were the first place he felt belonged
And she died kicking and thrashing in her father's chambers, stabbed a dozen times and her father burnt in seven hells.