Chapter Text
When Rhaegar was a little boy, he knew he was a disappointment to his parents. He was a son, yes, but not the kind of son his father hoped would one day take his place. The child wasn't interested in the sword, like his uncle had been. He wasn't scholarly either, like his father. He wasn't interested in the seven, or healing, or people in general.
No, he had exactly two interests: his Golden Lord, Gaelithox, and the lost region of Valyria.
The child had no interest in people, and refused to let his Golden Lord be chained up. Which meant that the dragon was far bigger than it should have been, more imposing. Gaelithox had reached the size of a horse when they were six, and had quadrupled in size in the next eight years. He was the youngest dragonlord to ride since the doom, mounting his soul brother at a mere seven name days. Rhaegar had also refused for the spikes to be drilled into his Lord's neck, a practice that had become common after Aegon, because it made attaching the reigns easier. Rhaegar didn't need that, though, he wasn't willing to mutilate his handsome dragon for something as stupid as ease.
His other fascination was Valyria, but in an odd way, according to his father. He didn't want to study it, no, he wanted to rebuild it, to bring back the home of the dragonlords. Rhaegar's blood was magic, more so than most of his family, and because of that, he craved their homeland more. He wanted to rebuild the hone of his ancestors, reclaim it from the Doom. He was ambitious, fiery, fierce, curious, callous perhaps, and quiet.
Oh, how he was quiet.
He learned the value of silence when he was six name days, after he asked his father what happened to his little brother, the prince Jaehaerys. The babe had lived for an entire week, only to be found dead in his cradle with a cold egg by his side. Rhaegar had heard about it from his nurse maid, and wanted to understand.
The King, grieving and raging, had slapped the boy in front of the entire court and screamed at him not to ask questions. Viserys told him how he should be grateful his younger brother died, because Jaehaerys would have been a better heir than he ever could. His father warned him that he should enjoy the little time he had as heir, because he would be replaced. Be it by Rhaegar's future younger brothers, or his uncle, Daemon, no one knew yet.
So, he had stopped complaining. He did his duty, learned swordplay from the Kingsguard, and watched silently as his mother was put through three more births before her body finally gave up. It should have helped his father see more than the freak of nature Rhaegar knew he was, but it didn't. Nothing did.
Following Prince Rhaegar and Prince Jaehaerys, there had been Prince Artys, Prince Maekar, and finally, Prince Baelon. Only the oldest survived. He was the only one the King and Queen wished would not.
By the time he was four and ten, a month after his mother had passed, he started hearing whispers. Lords were muttering about his marriage already. Everyone assumed that the king would not remarry, as he already had an heir, so it was assumed that the young prince would wed instead.
Of course, he also heard from his mothers maid that an old friend of his, Alicent Hightower, the youngest daughter of the Hand who was two name days older than Rhaegar, had been visiting the king at night. Unchaperoned. Silly idiot. She should have known the rules were different for people like her.
He knew Alicent when they were children. His father had hoped they would be playmates, and perhaps betrothed once they were older. Of course, by the time Rhaegar was seven and Alicent was nine, he could not stand the girl. She dared to scream at him for mounting his dragon. She called his Gaelithox a raging beast. Alicent had dared to call him, her Prince, unnatural and a heathen.
Needless to say, if Rhaegar had any power, she would have been given to the Faith or the Silent Sisters. Instead, he simply never spoke to her again. Oh, she certainly talked at him enough, but he never responded.
Rhaegar had made a vow that he would ruin her one day. And, as a small smirk grew on his face, it seemed that day had finally come. He knew that pious, self absorbed, overly confident brat would mess up eventually, but not even he had predicted she would be this stupid.
Spilling the news during his mothers mourning period was... difficult. But he managed to have someone, a Lord who owed him a favor, walk in on Alicent, ehem, kneeling before the king. Wearing nothing at all.
Rhaegar had almost broken a lung trying not to laugh. Perhaps, if the girl had been married to the king, it wouldn't be a scandal. After all, if he himself wanted to go down to the silk streets and fuck a dozen women, he could. But the rules were different between men and women.
It was silly of course. Women in their family were always extraordinary. Princess Rhaenys, her daughter Laena, even their grandparents were fearsome in battle when it was required. The late Queens, from Rhaenys and Visenya to Alyssa and Alysanne, were all extraordinary women, savage in battle when they needed to be. As all true dragons were.
But, his opinion mattered to no one.
At least, he told himself, he wouldn't have to marry the girl now. She had been ruined and it was up to the man who took her, and her father, what to do with her now. Perhaps the king would marry her, insulting the realm, specifically the Eyrie and Driftmark, which would leave quite the mess.
Oh well.
Perhaps he would finally be free if Alicent was with child.
With that in mind, he stayed quiet. He watched closely as Alicent's stomach swelled, even before the wedding. He watched as his uncle Daemon ruthlessly negotiated with father to have Alicent be a consort instead of a queen. He watched blankly as his own marriage was brought before the Small Council.
He couldn't speak.
Or maybe he could, but simply didn't want to. That always sounded nicer than admitting speaking to anyone except Gaelithox was a waste of his time. It never worked anyways, no one ever heard him when he tried to speak, so why continue trying?
Months passed, people argued, and Rhaegar gained a little sister: Alysanne, for his grandmother, was born just five and a half moons after the marriage between her parents. Alysanne had been born with the looks of her mother, green eyes and auburn hair, nothing like the Targaryen bloodline.
Then, another girl was born to Alicent, Helaena, after Alicent's own mother.
By the time of his own marriage to Lady Laena Velaryon, he had gained three sisters in just over two and a half years.
Rhaegar did his own duty, though he did not enjoy it, and soon enough, he had a son. Aerion Targaryen joined the bloodline. He was born during a great storm, with eyes like amethysts and hair like spun gold. The firstborn of his generation was also the one who looked the most Targaryen of them. Aerion was quickly claimed by Gray Ghost, of all dragons, at a mere week old. His oldest was very much shy and introverted, especially compared to the other two. Aerion had a very small group of people that he liked, but everyone else was treated as if they were dangers.
Another year, and Aethan Targaryen joined his big brother in Dragonstone. Of all of his children, Aethan had the most Valeryon blood. His hair was pure white, curled, and his eyes looked more like plums than the lighter purples most Targaryen's had. He was quickly claimed too, by the Cannibal. The fierce, feral dragon had swooped down randomly a moon after the boys birth, roaring his claim. It had given him a heart attack to see the most vicious dragon bonding with his newborn, but he was helpless to stop it. Not that he needed to, Aethan and the Cannibal were surprisingly well suited for each other. Both were outgoing, wild, and oddly possessive.
Little Aelon was born last, when he was ten and nine. Aelon, his curious child had bonded easily with Sheepstealer. While the smallest of the dragons, Sheepstealer was also the most mischievous. After the... surprise of the first two bonding, Sheepstealer was tame in comparison. Aelon was a perfect mix of Valeryon and Targaryen in features, with gold hair, and sea blue eyes, he was a striking child.
By the time Rhaegar turned twenty, he had three sons, and seven sisters, though only four remained living. Alysanne, Helaena, Gaella, Alyssa, Rhaenys, Visenya, and Maegella. Seven plain faced, andal looking daughters in six years. Two died young. Another passed in an accident, falling down the stairs at five.
But that was just bad luck. Surely, the King and Queen should be blessed with a son soon, whispers said. Others knew better.
Rhaegar had heard rumors of Viserys considering his eldest living daughter, Gaella, as his heir instead of the son he never wanted. The court did not like that at all, but what could they do? It was clear that Alicent could not have a son for some reason, and the king did not want Rhaegar on the throne.
Of course, not everything was perfect on his side. Rhaegar's wife loathed him. She resented being a wife and a mother. She resented not being a dragon rider just as much as she resented being sold off to him so young. Despite his assurances that he did not need children, she had them anyways. He had never so much as asked to sleep with her, every time they coupled, it was at her request exclusively.
To put it bluntly, he did not mind sex, but it was not an activity he particularly enjoyed. They both knew it. Lady Laena enjoyed insulting him and calling him a sword swallower. He wasn't, not that it mattered, it did not stop her from insulting him anyway. She cursed him for not giving her the life she wanted. Though, admittedly, what she wanted seemed to change with the tides. Sometimes, she wanted to be queen, ruling over the seven kingdoms, with a king who deferred to her. Sometimes, she wanted to be swept off her feet, like a damsel in distress. Sometimes, even the idea that she could possibly be weak in any way got things thrown at him.
Admittedly, it wasn't exactly his fault. He did not ask to marry her. Rhaegar hadn't been particularly pleased when their match was announced when he was ten and five, with her being two name days older, but really, what could he do? He had done his best to be a good husband, he supported her, and was willing to offer her a platonic marriage. But she didn't want that. Oh no.
She wanted the attention she got while being pregnant, but not the children that came after. The woman loathed their children, ignoring their care completely. If it was up to her, they would be fully in the care of nannies. She wanted the attention of being a good, dutiful wife, without being looked at like one. She didn't want a consort, or a... sleeping partner, but she ridiculed him for not wanting her. She thought that having children would get her praise and worship from everyone, including the king.
When it did not come, she became cruel and angry. Practically the only time she was even on Dragonstone was when she decided that she wished for another child. Once it was confirmed, she returned to Driftmark until it was time for the babe to come, when she would grudgingly make her way back to his side. That was another part of their agreement: she could do as she wished, when it came to the number of children they had and where she was during her pregnancies. But, all of his heirs were to be born on Dragonstone. After their births, she could return to their uninvolved marriage, or she could stay.
Her views on marriage and children were, well, barbaric to put it nicely.
According to her, children should be seen, not heard. They should be interested in what she wanted them to be. They should not cry, whine, or show any emotion, no matter how young they were or how different her own upbringing was.
He did not agree. While he hadn't particularly wanted children of his own, he loved his boys. It was hilarious watching them develop from ugly bags of flour, (he loves his kids, he does, but newborns are not cute when they are first born and anyone who says otherwise clearly can't see) into little people with their distinctive personalities. His shy Aerion, his fierce Aethan, and his curious Aelon were growing so well.
His sons were now four, three, and two.
Lady Laena had basically given their children fully to him and sailed off to Pentos this time. He had once thought she was a dragon, like him, but now he knew that she was far more of a Sea Snake, and Princess Rhaenys' blood had been smothered by her husband's.
At twenty, Rhaegar expected to live his life in the solitude of Dragonstone until he died. He was fine waiting for the news that a new prince was finally born. It had to happen eventually, if not his father and Alicent, then another royal perhaps. Daemon would likely want to sire a child, or ten, himself.
Truly, Rhaegar was fine keeping his nose clean, raising his children and running his Island where both full time jobs.
But life did not work that way.
He received a letter, from his good father, that Laena had birthed bastards. While Rhaegar was not surprised that his wife had found her pleasure elsewhere, he did raise an eyebrow at the other parent. According to Corlys, Daemon, Rhaegar's uncle, had taken Laena as his wife by the ways of their ancestors, supposedly nullifying his claim on her. Daemon and Laena, now 'married' for a year, had given birth to twin girls.
Rhaegar laughed at their stupidity, lounging in his castle, away from the drama of court. His sparkling lilac eyes danced with mirth. He knew what they were trying to do, but it wasn't going to work the way they thought it was.
Daemon and Laena were trying to shore up their own claims, as if preparing for war once Viserys died. By marrying in the old ways, they were attempting to recreate the love story of Jaehaerys and Alysanne. It could have worked. If it had been done right.
For one, Rhaegar wasn't just Crown Prince Rhaegar, he was Lord Paramount of Dragonstone as well. Meaning he dealt with the other lords often, and was fairly well known for his intelligence in economics. Two, while Aerion was his heir, and thus future Lord Paramount, or King, Aethan was a Valeryon's by name. It had been part of their wedding contract that one of the children between Rhaegar and Laena would be given the Valeryon legacy, as Laenor was unable to fulfill his duties. Meaning even if Daemon and Laena marched against him, they would not do so with the Valeryon fleet. Three, neither Daemon nor Laena had a... good reputation anymore. One was known as the Rogue Prince, the other as the Abandoner.
They were attempting to do the same thing as the Hightower's, with even less success. The small folk didn't like Alicent's children. They were cruel, even young, but more than that... they were daughters.
By the laws that Jaehaerys himself agreed to, sons always came first in the line of succession. Daughters were useless in the courts eyes. Even with it being well known that Rhaegar himself wasn't who the king wanted on the throne, most knew it would be him, then Aerion.
Added to that, there was one other problem few in his family dared to consider. Rhaegar had not done anything publicly to earn ire. If anything, his quick thinking and leadership skills made him an interesting heir.
If he had been Daemon, with his poor reputation, or even the Fool King Viserys, then perhaps his parents dislike could have made sense.
He swirled his wine as his thoughts darkened. Rhaegar truly had no idea what he had done to make his parents dislike him so. He hadn't been a troublemaker, though he could be stubborn.
Every so often, his thoughts would circle to his parents, and why they did not love him. He had a theory, but it was not very nice.
The most simple explanation was simply Gaelithox. Neither of his parents hatched eggs, his mother had not even been given the chance. While Viserys bad eventually claimed Balerion, when the great dragon died, it was as if a part of him died as well. Viserys never tried to claim another, nor did Aemma try at all. Both were content on the ground, and wanted to distance themselves from the legacy they came from.
Rhaegar was the opposite. He was the only of his cousins to hatch an egg in his cradle. He was the youngest dragonlord since the doom itself. He could happily spend every hour of every day in the skies and not feel badly about it. There was no shame in his heritage, not to him, and while he would never abandon his responsibilities, he had always dreamed of exploring the ruins of Old Valyria.
For now, though, that was simply a dream of boyhood. Perhaps one day, when Aerion, Aethan, and Aelon were grown, he would leave. But that day was far off and he would always return.
Perhaps that was yet another reason why his parents disliked him so much. Unlike them, he was willing to put his dreams and comforts aside to do his duty. And he did it well.
Not that it was particularly difficult to be a better parent than his own were to him. He quite liked that his children were becoming people of their own. It might not be easy, running Dragonstone and raising three boys, but it was completely worth it. His children were wonderful little dragons.
What wasn't wonderful was what had led him to the point of laying sideways on a chair in his private rooms, silvery-gold hair falling from the high pony tail in a cascade. No, that wasn't wonderful at all. He had gotten a raven just hours before from one of the lookout islands that the Crown was coming.
Joy.
Not for him, no. Rhaegar was positive that they were coming for dragons. After Dreamfyre, and thus her eggs, had been moved here due to his... fathers demands that he be removed from court, all dragons now resided on Dragonstone. Which meant if Viserys wanted his chosen heir to be more official, despite her looks, she needed a dragon of her own.
He didn't think it would happen. Dragons chose their riders more than a rider chose their dragon. If the Targaryen bloodline was already weak enough that they did not hold a single trait from Old Valyria, then he believed they wouldn't be able to form a bond at all.
It was their blood that gave the Targaryen family the ability to bond in the first place. That was why they always married so closely, they had to keep their blood as pure as possible, because polluted blood meant that they would loose the most incredible gift from their ancestors.
With Viserys and his already... wyrm like demeanor, and Alicent's impure Andal blood, his poor half siblings were doomed. The chosen line of Viserys had no Dragons. The Valeryon's had three, including Daemon. He had four.
He hoped that it would not come to a fight if and when Viserys died, but even if it did, he would be against the dragon less Hightower spawn, not the others. No matter how much Laena and Daemon disliked him, there was no way Corlys, Rhaenys, or Laenor would dare go against him when he had their heirs heir as his own child.
Perhaps if Gaella had been born first, she would be Queen. Perhaps if she both looked Targaryen, and had a dragon who hatched for her, the people would be more likely to listen. As it was, Rhaegar was the eldest. He had Gaelithox from the cradle.
When Viserys finally fully dis-inherited him, no one would care. Once the man was gone, he was the popular choice with his people. He was the only choice they would consider. Perhaps Daemon, but no. Viserys had a son who was already of age, who had already produced heirs of his own. Few lords would dare to argue that their King's will be followed after his death.
That was the way of the Seven Kingdoms. The firstborn always had a stronger case than any other.
Besides, he had something he wanted to do eventually that would require the throne. A final puzzle piece of spite in his perfect revenge.
Well, no. That wasn't entirely fair. Spite definitely played a roll in getting his attention where it needed to be. He really should thank Alicent when he saw her. Without her being an absolute cunt, he wouldn't have seen what needed to be done.
Because one day, before his reign was over, Rhaegar would finally rid the world of that disgusting, dangerous Seven Who Are One. The things he had seen in the Sept were beyond vile. They were evil.
He had happily destroyed the Sept on Dragonstone when he found evidence that the Septa and Septons were sexually abusing the orphans. They had been stealing from the people, hurting the children, and trying to force people to have... frankly very odd ideas about women and men.
Even he knew that sex wasn't supposed to hurt, and he didn't particularly care for the act. How many women were suffering in silence because their religion told them that the only thing they were good for was having children and pleasing their husband's? It was a deluded point of view, one he would very much like to abolish in case he ever had a daughter of his own.
No, the Targaryen's had bowed to the Seven for too long. It would soon be time to fix that. If not for him, than for the children. They deserved better.
Perhaps he was overreacting. Perhaps only the Sept here had been poison. But he didn't think so.
He vaguely remembered being dragged by the Septons into the building as a child. He remembered seeing young children, all under ten name days, dressed in rags and being dragged to the back. They were always crying, always bruised.
When Rhaegar had asked, he was told that those children were sinners, and the Septons and Septa were cleansing them of their sins. While he hadn't believed it, at the time, he hadn't had an alternative explanation that made sense. Which meant he failed those children just like he did the ones being hurt on his lands.
It made him furious to think about. If he was a little less in control, Gaelithox would have burned down Old Town, the Citadel, and every single Sept in the Seven Kingdoms.
He couldn't do that. No matter how badly he wanted to.
Not unless he truly wanted to be associated with Maegor and blamed for all sorts of things beyond his finite control. No, Rhaegar knew that the only way to fight that kind of infection was to carefully burn it away. It went against his nature to take his time, he was a dragon after all, but for the sake of his boys.
He could wait.
Rhaegar was patient. He had to be.
Bells chimed, an alert that the royal ship would soon reach their docks. It was time. For the first time since Rhaegar had been dragged to his wedding by the Kingsguard, in over five sun turns. He had not seen, nor spoken a single word to, his father in all that time.
With a long sigh, he finished his wine and made his way to the room he kept his clothing. While he would prefer to deal with his wyrm of a father and snake of a step mother in comfortable clothing, he knew image was still important. Especially since he needed to make his sons look good.
He picked out golden leather tunic, made of Gaelithox's shed scales and outlined in gold, before matching it with a pair of simple black trousers. He quickly took down his hair, noticing that it was getting far too long, reaching his lower back when it was down, before brushing it into a simple low pony tail. He slipped rings onto his fingers, and draped a simple golden crown with rubies embedded into the piece, onto his head.
Two Golden dragons with ruby eyes were used to hold his heavy black cloak in place.
He didn't really need it, nor did he need his septer, but they helped give him an image of power that he... normally lacked. Rhaegar needed to keep himself calm and quiet if this was going to work. He needed to prove that he was not the same lanky, freakishly odd young man he had been at ten and five.
Rhaegar was a father himself now. He was a man long grown, with sons of his own. If he wanted any chance at making the world safer for his boys, then he needed to prove himself to his court yet again.
How fun.
It took only minutes for him to reach his own throne room, where his Dragonglass throne rested ten steps up. The base was made of the same hard volcanic rock as most of Dragonstone, but the throne itself was a thing of beauty. Sharp and deadly to those who did not know the tricks to sitting on it, the Dragonglass throne was dark as obsidian, and twice as likely to slice a careless ruler.
He took his seat, watching with distant eyes as his oldest and heir waited at the base of the throne, shifting shyly as he took in the court.
His announcer opened the doors.
"Presenting his majesty, Viserys Targaryen, first of his name King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm."
Game. Set. Start.