Chapter Text
The night was not a kind one in Kings Landing. Claps of thunder roared from above, flashes of lightning illuminating the barren streets. Across the lands people cowered and prayed to the gods above that their lives would be spared, that their children would still have a home by nights end.
Even within the fortified walls of the castle, family members curled up together, a young prince Aemond crying within his frazzled mothers arms. To her other side, pale hair hid her daughters face, accompanied by tiny hands that reached out to grasp the nearby spider.
"Helaena, dear." Alicent tried to reach out for her daughter, only for the girl to curl away from her touch. "Please, come away from the window."
Tongue not yet strong enough to express her thoughts, the young princess only shook her head and glanced out the closed window, lightning lighting up her brilliant violet eyes in sync with the deafening roar that covered the kingdom. Alicent winced at the sound, tempted to cover her ears once more, but settled for rocking the baby in her arms.
For the last few hours, the dragons of Kings Landing had been amiss, loud roars from the beasts crying out and deafening the thunder from above. Every member of the castle braced for the sound to come again, like the cries of death. "Is there no one to quiet the beasts down?" Otto Hightower questioned his King, glancing between the man on the throne and the Rogue prince that simply smirked from his place near the window.
Unlike the other members of the court, Daemon Targaryen did not cower from the cries. He only listened, allowing the sound to rattle his bones and sink into his skin. It was a sound of power, power he as a dragon himself had within his blood. "Would you like to try, my Lord Hand? I can take you there if you'd like."
"Daemon." Viserys scorned swiftly, "Many of the dragon handlers are taking shelter as well Otto, but I guarantee the ones there are trying their hardest to calm the beasts. It is not as easy as calming a horse."
"Yes your grace, I am aware." Ottos scowl didn't lift. "But the sound surely frightens all in the Kingdom. Even your own children hide within their rooms to escape the noise."
Scoffing loudly, Daemon pushed himself from the stone behind him, sauntering closer to the throne. "They are Targaryens, Hand. They will learn not to fear the beasts whose blood runs through their veins."
Raising a hand, the King simply sighed in exhaustion, sleep evading him through the stormy night. "Both of you go back to your rooms. There is not much to be done while the clouds are gathered. We will speak again in the morrow-"
Before the King could finish his order, a wet and wrinkled Dragon keeper burst through the throne room doors, water trailing after their disheveled form. "Your Grace." They slumped to their knees in an exhausted bow, breath escaping in ragged gasps. "My apologies for the interruption but I have been ordered to gather your insight immediately."
"Rise, tell me what could possibly be so desperate that you had to risk your life to bring it to me?"
Taking a few more gasps, the dragon keeper looked up into the old kings eyes. "Someone has snuck into the dragon caves." All three men's eyes widened at the information, not only to the fact that the person had to have gotten past at least 3 guards, but also due to the complete idiocy of who ever it was. Everyone knew that traveling unsupervised within the caves was a death wish, especially for anyone without Targaryen blood.
"Who?"
"A woman." The young man muttered out. "The Elder keeper caught sight of her heading further down the caves but by the time gaurds came she had disappeared once more and the dragons began to pull against their chains. They want to know if they should search for her or not."
Daemon rolled his eyes. If the woman clearly had that strong of a death wish, why deny her the dreary end she wished for? "She'd be long dead by now, brother. No use risking the men."
Although part of him knew his brother was right, that there was no hope for the misguided woman, another chuck of his soul pulled at his body to move, pushing him to his feet. Something in the back of his mind, a forgotten memory, tried to fight it's way out as he walked down the steps of the throne. "Your Grace?"
"Daemon, gather two knights and follow me into the caves. We'll go through the hidden stairwell. It will save us time and allow us to start in the lower caves first."
All three men looked towards their King like he had gone mad, even Daemon who was always ready to head into action had wide eyes at his brothers antics. "You're joking. Brother, shes dead. If we head down after her we may be as well."
"Enough." Viserys waved his hand, "As your King you will follow my orders. Now."
"Your Grace." Otto muttered. "Sending Daemon and the guards are one thing, but to risk your own life. Surely not."
"The matter is settled Otto. I will be back, but until then you are to inform the Queen and Princess Rhaenyra of what is occurring." Without so much as another word, the old King walked from the, waving for the young dragon keeper to follow as his brother begrudgingly ordered two guards to meet him by the dark hall.
With each step the King took, an invisible thread of unbreakable silk pulled him further, ears ringing not only from the deafening cries of the dragons as they entered the caves, wet rock illuminated poorly by lit torches. Further down the group traveled, no longer shivering as the air around them became stifling.
"Brother." Daemon called out as he heard the low whistle of his dragon, the bloodwyrm growling at the keepers that pulled on his chains. "The guards have already checked the caves. The woman is not to be found. If we turn back now perhaps we will escape with our heads intact."
"What happened to showing no fear, dear brother?" The taunt rolled from his tongue absent mindedly, unlike the King to say such things.
His words caught Daemon off guard, who in turn immediately scowled as his ego chipped. "Fear of intruding on the beasts home is far different than fear of their cries."
"Is it?" The conversation died with that question, soon followed by the halting of the Kings steps. Leaning down, he ignored the sweat that stained his clothes and picked up the shining piece of metal. It was warm to the touch, near scalding from the heat. Turning it over, the King studied the engraved necklace, words in a tongue unfamiliar to him scribbled across the back.
"What did you find, your grace?" Ser Harrold questioned, hand resting on his sword.
"A necklace." Daemon peaked up at this, moving closer and taking the chain from his brother. As the Rogue prince turned the band over, his heart sunk into his stomach, fiery blood turning to ice at the familiar engraving. The true meaning of the words were unknown to his tongue, but they were hauntingly familiar. As was the deafening roar that followed as soon as his hands touched the metal.
"Get down!" Ser Harrold yelled, pulling the two royals behind him. The roar shook the entire cavern around them, so strong that the young dragon keeper was sure it would collapse. Yet by miracle of the gods it did not, instead leaving the group alive and covered in dust.
"Vermithor." Both of the Targaryen whispered, in awe of the ancient beast. The riderless dragon had not been seen in many moons, last rumored to be in Dragonstone with his companion. Yet there, just around the corner, he resided. Quickly, Viserys moved closer, careful not to make any sudden moves that caused the dragon to release fire. Daemon followed, though half reluctantly as he both cursed and prayed to the gods for the necklace to be a mistake.
A sharp intake of breath echoed as the group looked into the cavern, eyes landing on the charred form laying on the ground. Blood surrounded the unrecognizable body, where her head once sat now nothing but a stump. Pain gripped the kind Kings heart despite not knowing the woman, a sympathy for her painful dead lingering.
Daemons breath hitched as well, though he once knew what the charred form looked like. There was little grief in his eyes though, more like relief until they wandered towards the burnt thread that resembled a worm. As if time stopped, his mind short circuited. There was no way...
"Your Grace!" The knights pulled the King back as Vermithors large head lifted, scarlet stained lips curling to reveal razor's underneath. His growl alone shook the floor beneath their feet, all but daring them to make a move. To the side, a higher pitch hiss, more closely resembling a snakes, sounded as the reflective scales of Vermithors companion, Silverwing, peaked her own head from the shadows.
"My Lord we must go." Harrold urged, "It is too late for her." Viserys nodded slightly, moving to turn his head before a loud cry drew everyones attention back to the cave.
It was not a dragon cry, not one of pain or anger, but the shrill cry of a new born babe. One the King was ever familiar with. One that his children had all released after their births. "A babe?" He whispered, focus rerouted again. Shrugging off his knights hand, the old King hobbled closer, peaking in to catch sight of the child.
Visible just through the cracks of the she-dragons silver wings, the crimson covered skin of a newborn peaked out. The child was resting on her large leathery wing, which had wrapped around them. Though they cried, it was not a sound of fear, but more inclined to one of hunger and uncomfort.
"Good gods." Ser Harrold whispered, eyes flickering between the charred body and the somehow alive babe.
Daemon had a similar reaction, his heart ceasing in his chest as he looked towards the babe. A tuff of brilliant blonde hair was barely visible upon their head, eyes too squinted to see. Yet somehow he still knew. There was no other possibility.
Stepping closer, Viserys was quickly pulled back as Silverwing lashed out, teeth clamping down on where he had stood. Her body encircled the baby even more, alerting Vermithor to her distress. "Brother." Daemon called out in warning. "We must leave while we still have our lives."
"I can't." Viserys grunted out. "The babe-"
"Let the babe burn, brother. Some low life child is not our concern." His words escaped so effortlessly, Daemon almost believed them himself. But sacrifice was necessary, and in this moment, the sacrifice was needed to keep his image intact.
Daemon Targaryen was not a heartless man, it still hurt him to say those words, but he was a selfish one who at the moment, cared little for those who did not benefit him. And a bastard had no benefit.
"Brother." Viserys hissed in disbelief. How could he say that about an innocent child. How could they expect him to leave knowing that the girl would die? "She is a Targaryen. No other babe would have even lasted half this long within the dragon caves, can you not tell?"
Dragons are not sympathetic creatures. Babe or adult have no meaning in their minds. To them, each is food and a threat. So the fact that the dragon couple had not only separated the child from the mother before killing her, but also attempted to keep her close was something that had never occurred.
Another cry escaped the babe, regaining Silverwings attention as the dragon nudged her softly. The unknown texture of scales did little to calm them though, causing the she-dragon to let out a low whine of her own. Vermithor, though still ready to roast the humans in front of them, glanced over at Silverwing and released a worried growl as well.
Keeping his head low, Viserys stepped into the cave. Growls met his movement, but no teeth accompanied them this time. "Lykiri (calm)." The King spoke softly in High Valyrian. "The babe is dying. Please."
Unsure of the dragons could even understand that concept, the King paused, eyes still casted down as a sign of peace. At his words Silverwing released another whine of anguish before shifting. The guards were quick to draw their swords, preparing to attack within a second, but the Dragons did not threaten the man. Instead, she stretched out her wing, placing the babe on the hot stone before shifting back into the shadows with one last cry.
Wasting no time, Viserys grabbed onto the child and cradled her in his arms, cooing softly to sooth her cries. The feeling of the babe brought back long forgotten memories of a baby Rhaenyra and his late Queen. Tears tried to break through at the familiarity.
"My King!" The guards were quick to surround him again as they began their trek into the castle.
Daemon, though reluctant, forced himself to look down at the child, heart clenching as he spotted her violet eyes, flecks of green splashed within them to create a vibrant mix. Fighting to keep his blank expression, the Rogue Prince looked away. "What are you to do now brother? Claim her as your bastard. A bastard with no name?"
"She will have a name. One fit for a beauty such as she. Rhaella Targaryen, that is what they will call you. Rhaella Targaryen, the girl born in dragon fire."