Chapter Text
The library in Dragonstone was one of the few places in the castle that felt peaceful and safe. Rhaenyra sat at a table covered in letters, maps, and reports. She’d been reading the same message for what felt like hours, not even turning the page. You sat away from her, curled up on a chair with a book on your lap.
“How long has it been since Daemon left?” You suddenly asked.
She stilled for a moment before answering. “Almost a month,” you hummed in acknowledgment.
“I am going to Harrenhal to get Daemon back,” you informed your mother.
Rhaenyra turned to you with an incredulous expression. “No.”
“I was not asking,” you reminded her, while turning your attention back to the book in your hands. Your mother simply stared at you, how you were acting as if you had told her you wanted to get something from the kitchens.
“You are to stay here, by my side.” Rhaenyra stood up and approached you, her expression turning darker.
You glanced towards all the parchments scattered on the wooden table. The war had already begun, Rhaenyra still refused to act, and Daemon was terrorizing the Riverlands. “Mother, pleas-”
“You will not leave Dragonstone, not with Aemond and Vhagar so close to striking at any moment.”
You sighed. “I already made my decision, mother. I will go with or without your permission.”
“No!” Rhaenyra growled, her face now closer to yours and her hands holding the armrests, trapping you. “If anything happens to me, you will succeed me and rule Westeros. I need to keep you safe.”
“Daemon is out there wreaking havoc for our cause, and you are worried about me?” You questioned her defiantly. “We should be gaining more allies. I cannot sit here doing nothing.”
“You are my heir,” Rhaenyra grabbed your chin, not tight to hurt you but firm to make you look at her. Her expression has changed into something else. Fear? Anger? You could not tell. “Listen to me carefully, I forbid you. You will not go to Harrenhal, do you understand?” You opened your mouth to answer, but her grip tightened slightly to silence you. “Do you understand?” She repeated.
Her eyes were shining not with tears, but with rage. The terror of losing another child after losing Lucerys and Visenya terrified her. You sat there, still under her grip, not attempting to move her away. You understood her reasons, but did not agree.
“If something has happened to Daemon, I will deal with it, not you.”
She released you and let out a shaky sigh. You stared in silence as she walked back to the table and sat down. The discussion was finished.
For now.
-
Council meetings had been tense after Jaehaerys’ death. Every report felt like it carried bad news, and all the discussions ended in arguments. And, even if they do not say it out loud, some still blame Rhaenyra for it.
She sat at the head of the table, rubbing her temple while Lord Celtigar and Maester Gerardys were arguing over supply routes. Jacaerys was listening to them, growing more annoyed by the minute.
“Your Grace.”
“Yes?” She glanced up to see one of the guards stepping forward. He seemed pale, visibly sweating.
“There is… Something happened… with the princess.” All conversations seemed to stop; everyone’s attention was now focused on him. He cleared his throat. “The dragonkeepers reported that she left… an hour ago.”
Rhaenyra stared at him, her expression blank for a moment as she processed the words. Jace’s face drained of color. “Left?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Did she say where?” She asked sarcastically, already knowing the answer. The guard looked miserable, and nobody else spoke up to help him.
“No,” he stammered.
“My sister left, and nobody knows where she went,” Jace asks no one in particular. His heart was beating uncontrollably. What if she went to King’s Landing on her own?
“Leave.” The guards almost ran away, disappearing.
Queen Rhaenyra sat in silence, staring at the table. All the council members present were waiting for her to say anything. “I’ll find her; she couldn’t have gone too far,” Jace promised, standing up.
“She went to Harrenhal,” she revealed, “to bring Daemon back.” Jace stared in shock. All the council members seemed uncomfortable, especially Lord Celtigar, since he had much to say about that.
“What?” Jace asked incredulously. “Alone?”
“I forbade her,” Rhaenyra whispered, now shaking in anger. “I forbade her from leaving, and she disobeyed me.”
“Mother, let m-”
“I forbade her!” She roared, standing up and walking towards the doors.
“Mother!” Jace called, rushing after her. “Wait!”
Rhaenyra almost ran through the corridors to get Syrax, the rage radiating from her body. You had left Dragonstone with not so much as a word, like a thief in the night.
But she would bring you back home, even if she had to strap you down to your dragon.
-
Harrenhal.
You stood in front of the largest castle in Westeros, a place you had dreamed of visiting when you were a child. Ser Harwin Strong, your real father, had told you stories about this place. But the day he died, you swore never to come here.
A man approached you. His gaze moved momentarily to your dragon. ”Oh, Princess,” he greeted, nervously looking around while your dragon circled the air. “Forgive us, we were not expecting… I’m Simon Strong.”
“You were related to Lord Lyonel?” You asked, tilting your head.
“Yes, I was his uncle.” He cleared his throat. “How can I help you?” He knew who you were and why you were here.
“I want to speak to Daemon now,” you demanded. Simon fidgeted with his hands, debating on what to reply. “What?”
“He’s… preoccupied at the moment.”
You stared at him with an incredulous expression. “I do not care what he is or is not doing; I want to speak to him. Now.” He blanched and turned to go into the castle. You sighed and followed him.
Inside, Harrenhal looked depressing. Dark hallways, rubble, and reconstruction efforts are still going on. You stared at your surroundings for a moment before catching up to Simon.
-
You waited in a secluded parlor and watched as Daemon entered. He seemed so… unbothered that you were there.
“Did it ever cross your mind that my mother is unprotected in Dragonstone while you stay here, doing nothing?” you berated him, words rushing out of your mouth, days of suppressed anger being unleashed.
Daemon scoffed. “Nothing? I am securing the Riverlands for her.”
“Strange, since we have not received anything positive about your behavior,” you informed him, crossing your arms.
You both stared at each other, and the tension was thick. “And you believed them,” he said as he poured a glass of wine for himself and sat down.
“Shouldn’t I? You had a child slaughtered in their sleep, left Dragonstone to come here, and some of the Riverlords are sending letters regarding your behavior.”
“What happened to Jaehaerys was a tragedy, that’s not what I intended. It was a mistake.”
“What is it that you want, Daemon?” You questioned with a sigh, brows furrowing slightly. “The throne? Is that it? You went through all this facade to be king?”
Daemon raised a brow slowly. “What?”
“You want my mother’s throne, so admit it,” you almost begged. “We are tired of this game you’re always playing. Tell me what you truly want and let us be done with this.”
He was quiet for a minute before answering. “I want Rhaenyra to be queen, yet wanting something and achieving it are very different,” Daemon mentioned that you sit down next to him. “I regret what happened to Jaehaerys. I wanted Aemond to die for what he did to Lucerys. It was a mistake.”
“You left us, Daemon,” you whispered, “you left mother when she needed your support. I suppose you always do that, since it is not the first time.”
“What?” He breathes.
“I will go to sleep now. It is late, and I want to go home tomorrow.”
Daemon watches you leave, memories of recent events flooding his mind. You were right. He always abandoned Rhaenyra when she needed him.
-
“Sister! Come play!” A voice echoed through the night. “Come on!”
You groaned softly, untangling yourself from the blankets and rubbing your eyes.
“Sister!” The voice laughs.
“Luke, let me sleep,” you replied before abruptly sitting up on the bed. “Luke?”
Giggles and the pitter-patter of barefoot feet against the stone filled the air. Without thinking, you began to follow it. The corridors felt endless. Moonlight was peaking through some of the holes in the walls, but it was mostly dark and shockingly cold.
The sight in one of the sitting rooms made you stop. Lucerys sat on the ground in front of the hearth, playing with a silver-haired baby. The boy lifted his gaze to smile at you.
Feeling your chest tightening with fear, you turn around to leave, but you stand there frozen.
“Ser Harwin!” You gasped.
Your father smiled softly. “My sweet girl.”
“This cannot be real,” you whispered to yourself, and quickly moved away from him, when a noise in the corridor made you turn your head. Lucerys was motioning for you to follow him again.
“Sister! Come join me!” He exclaimed and ran off again. You followed, not before turning around to see Harwin in the same spot.
“Luke! Wait!” You begged, yet no answer came.
The chase led you out into the cool night air. You searched among the shadows for Luke, but he was gone. Then, you heard it.
Whispers, as if a hundred voices were speaking at once. You could not make out the words, but it seemed to pull you in towards the godswood. The weirdwood tree with the carved face, glowing under the moonlight, the dripping sap making it seem like it was weeping.
Unable to resist, you stepped closer. The whispers grew louder with every step. You stopped in front of the tree, staring at its eyes. However, a strange, uneasy feeling in your chest made you turn to leave.
Alys Rivers stood directly behind you. You stumbled back in shock. She had been so silent while she studied you, “You and I are more alike than you realize.”
“I am nothing like you,” you replied, frowning.
Alys faintly smiled. “You hear them as well, don’t you? The whispers,” she gazed towards the tree.
“I don’t understand what you mean”
You took a step to the side, intending to leave, but Alys moved faster. Her hand shot out and grabbed your wrist with a tight grip. Before you could pull away, she dragged you forward and slammed your open palm against the white trunk.
The moment your skin made contact, the whispers became louder. Your gaze turned up towards the night sky and gasped, your body violently shaking. Images flashed before your eyes. Dragons flying over burning cities, dead bodies, and blood.
You cried out before collapsing, unconscious before hitting the ground.