Chapter Text
It has been half a year since Alaric died at the hands of the Boston’s. Half a year since her eldest son and heir avenged his father and smote House Bolton off the face of Westeros. Half a year of mourning the kind, honourable, and stubborn man who was her husband, the father of her children, and her best friend. Alaric was a good man. The man she married in the Old Ways and the man who gave her four children. But despite all of this he is not the man she wanted. The man who took her breath away. The man whom she still longs for and loves and dreams of.
No she dreams and loves and longs for a Rouge. For a red dragon. For a man who is mourning his son Rhaegar who died barely six weeks after he was born. Rhea had sent a raven. It was all she dared to send. She knows that Daemon never married Laena Velaryon. But she has born him twin daughters. But Laenor Velaryon has been dead almost as long as Alaric. And still much to her shock Rhaenyra Targaryen still mourns and is a widow. The cynical part of her waits every day for a raven coming with the news of their marriage. Even though she knows she has no right to the man. And so a part of her hopes.
A hope that makes her feel ashamed and alive. She remembers his vow. And wonders if he ever thinks of her. She wonders if he still wants her like she wants him. But she carries on. She raises her children and rules Runestone and does her best.
One day she is with her children for the morning meal. The fire is burning and the honeyed oatmeal takes warm on her tongue. She breathes in the fresh air from the open window and smiles at the amber and grey eyes that look back at her. If this is all she can ever have she will be content. She is happy here in her home with her family. If the gods were to take her she would accept it.
Just she she is about to cut open an apple she hears it. The wind picks up and she hears the high pitch whistle that echoes throughout the stones of her keep. Their is activity all around her. She nearly closes her eyes. She hears her eldest calling our for her. The Red Wyrm has landed outside of Runestone. Ignoring the panic and inquiries Rhea makes her way to the gates. She tells her children all will be well.
Once she is at the gates she sees him. His hair is cut short and the red drake behind him stands out against the mountains of the Vale. Her heart is pounding and she dares no make the first move. She knows what she wants. Twenty-five years ago she chose to honour the wishes of her father and ignore the command of a queen. Twenty-five years ago she loved a boy. And now all these years later she loves the man in front of her all the same. She wants to be brave. She wants to be selfish. She wants him. She would love his girls because they are a part of him.
But he is a dragon. He is flame and she is a steady rock. With the runes inked on her hands and arms and the sword Lamentation at her side. With the blood of First Men in her veins. Will he love all of her like he claimed all those years ago. Will he love and defend her children? Will he let go of his ambition for the throne?
She is startled from her thoughts when he strides foreword. With Dark Sister at his side and his dragon at his back. He moves swiftly until he stands right before her. His face bares that same familiar smirk that she wants to kiss and smack off his face. His warm hand still feels like flame as he grasps her hand. He looks at the runes tattooed on her hands. And then he kisses the back of her hand. And then he turns her hand and kisses the inside of her wrist. Where the rune for courage rests.
She closes her eyes. She feels her beating heart and the wind in her air. She knows this is a sign from the gods if there ever was one. So she opens her eyes and sees the question in his. And so with tears in her eyes she smiles at him.
“Daemon.” She says only his name. And it is enough. She knows he knows. She chooses him. She chooses him; his pride, rage, love, possessiveness, protective nature, his children, and even his damned dragon. She will love him in this life and every one that comes after. He kisses her wrist again and she knows he chooses her as well.
“So my Issa prūmia (my heart. Or at least that is what the online translator gave me lol. Hopefully its right.) which way to your weirwood??? I seem to recall you had one here amongst the sheep. I have a promise to keep.”
Rhea beams at him. She grabs his hand, turns to guide him, and laces their hands together. Her inked hands intertwined with his. And she knows it will not be easy. Her children and family will struggle to understand. She knows their will be blowback from Viserys and his daughter. But Rhea finds she does not care. Daemon is at her side now. And her heart feels full. In this moment she is happy. She is free. She is loved. And that is all she has ever wanted.