Chapter Text
Daeron reached out and then let his hand fall, disbelief written into his soul. Balerion flew above them, round and round in a perfect cycle, as he was chasing his tail, his roar so distant that Daeron felt it more in his bones than he heard it.
Before him knelt Daenys, bathed in fire, ever-young and ever-old, shimmering as a mirage. Who else it could even be? She smiled, the lights dancing on her face and with any move she made her jewellery glittered in this dream, like sunlight on the shimmering seas in a hazy summer noon.
"How is this possible?" He didn't ask if this was real. Of course it was.
Daenys laughed, looking up at the dragon too, answering in Valyrian. He just realised he asked her in that language too. "We are Dreamers, are we not, Daeron? What is a little time difference for people like us?"
"It seemed to matter before, given this is the first time we've met." Said Daeron, trying to focus on her face. It was difficult to look at her, but even more difficult to look away. He could not make out a single feature clearly, but he felt that he would still immediately recognise her even among a hundred similar looking women. She was entirely ageless, mildly disturbing and entirely wondrous.
"True, but also not. Our family will loose much and more for their folly, and you will... have lost more than most." said Daenys, tilting her fair head, studying him in turn, as he studied her.
Daeron blinked. "Me? You are mistaken, I'm sorry to say. Whatever I have lost, it was either my own fault or just simply a fact of life. There isn't... there is no blame for anyone else to go around."
"Sweet child, you have nearly lost your mind. You have lost sleep, and good regard, and peace and your appetite. You have lost hope, have you not? You have given up on life and joy before it ever started." Daenys was gentle. She was also, apparently, rather brutal.
Daeron felt himself shrink back, trying to coat himself in the haziness of dreams and sink into wakefulness, or into the flames surrounding them. Yet, he was not allowed, the visage of his ancestor unwavering as she waited for him, patient, appearing as one who had all the time in the world.
Daeron felt the need to be defensive rise in him. Of course he was hopeless, of course he had no appetite and great lust for life, and what has he ever done to have anyone's good regard anyways, to be loosing it...? But he had not said a word. Any explanation felt cheap in the face of a woman who Dreamed about the fall of her civilisation and managed to save a piece of it, guiding her family to safety. All Targaryens owned their life to her twice, once for escaping the Doom, and once for being the mother of their dynasty on these shores.
"I meant no censure, sweet boy. And it is not your fault." Said Daenys, gentling herself, growing fainter again, the edges of her form washing into the dream. "I'd say, even, that you've done remarkably well. An unguided Dreamer is a recipe for disaster and a very easy path to absolute insanity, so congratulations on managing to avoid it. Whatever you've done to save yourself is much better than the alternative."
"What is the alternative?" Whispered Daeron, though he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer at all.
"Insanity was not enough explanation? I suppose not." Daenys chuckled, but there was no humour in it, then she sighed, her eyes far away. "Your consciousness, your soul itself would be lost in time. Your body would stay, and perhaps sometimes you could even visit it, but otherwise it would remain separate and empty, ruled by the echos of you spirit, as the rest of you was dragged through past and future like a leaf in a raging river."
Daeron shuddered. It sent ripples through the dream, the waves upon the dark waters reaching the horizon and running up on even the sky. "That sounds entirely unpleasant. Am I viable to... do that?"
"No. Especially not now. Most manage to kill themselves before it comes to that, anyways. To be honest with you, I've only ever heard of one such recorded case. There was a child of a great Valyrian dragon-lord and a slave woman he abandoned. The boy was a Dreamer, but he suffered greatly by the will of the Freehold before anyone figured it out. He then rejected any and all help, wanting nothing to do with the conquerors of his people. He was kept in a temple and there he slowly deteriorated, until one day the even the priests of Balerion could no longer locate his soul. And so he was lost." Daenys finally looked back and Daeron. "But it was thousands of years ago."
"Ah. So the little time difference does actually matter?" Asked Daeron, half despairing already. All of that sounded absolutely horrific and he wished to go back to the time before he knew that he could turn into a disembodied time travelling wraith.
"A smart mouthed child, aren't you?" Grinned Daenys. Her teeth were blinding white and looked like fangs when the lights hit them at the the right (wrong) angle. "And thus we return to the folly of our family. You should not fear such fate, Daeron. You are a dragon-rider."
"Unbelievably so, yes." He mused. "How does that help?"
"He's here now, no?" Daenys looked up, her silver head tilted back as she threw her hands into the sky. Balerion rumbled in answer, the sound reaching them delayed, like distant thunder after a strike of lightning. "He's here for you and here for me. An anchor."
She turned back to him. "The dragon is the one who guides the Dreamer and doesn't let them get lost." Daenys explained, smiling at the black dragon. "Now that he knows your soul he will keep you safe. How do you think you ended up here, hmm?"
"Was it him? Did he bring me to you, then? I thought I just dreamed as I usually do, but this one did seem a little strange..." Daeron trailed off, suddenly overcome with some great feeling. Something that was almost hope. "Will he help other times too? Take me from my Dreams?"
"If he must. But Daeron, do not reject your Dreams. They might bring you terror, but it is with reason. They warn you of terror to come, so you may avoid or navigate it. And especially now... fate has become malleable, and you have every chance in the world, but you must grab it with both hands. The world wants to be a tragedy and you are one of the very few beings in history who can tell it to not be so."
"What."
Daenys laughed at him. "I know you don't wish for it, sweet boy, but you have quite the power."
"No. No, I'm... No."
Daenys hummed. "You will see. You must be brave and you must be kind. And you must love well. By love the World will be delivered from Darkness, remember that Daeron."
Daeron buried his face in his hands. "My lady, please, say something that's both more comprehensible and less alarming. This is quite a bit to take in after the day I had."
"Very well. As I have been taught, so will you be. We will meet like this, in Dreams and I will tell you what you must know."
Daeron's eyes widened. Spending his dreams under the tutelage of the admittedly little weird Daenys sounded infinitely better than spending them with horrific visions of the future, even if she did tell him some rather alarming things. "Really? Would you do that for me? And every night? Please, I will study very well and remember whatever you tell me!"
"I appreciate your enthusiasm, sweet boy, but our heads need sleep. Normally sleep is for organising and understanding all the knowledge and emotions you gain while you are awake, and it is rather important. You will note when you wake, that you will feel tired. It is because we used your brain organising time for... well. This. We will speak maybe once a week and it will still take a great effort from you, worry not." Daenys smiled at him and looked into the fires and into the breaking sky.
"You will need to wake soon. Before that, I must tell you something. My family here and myself left a little gift for you and yours on one of the islands close to Dragonstone. Balerion will take you there, he's the only one you can." Then she sighed, but her eyes were laughing. "I'm not suppose to warn you, so I won't, but you have no reason to fear."
"What do you mean?" Asked Daeron, alarmed and confused, but Daenys just laughed at him.
"Go and be awake."
And so the Dragonstone of his dream fell away and Balerion grew until Daeron's sight was shallowed by his darkness and he was expelled from his own dream.
...
The sun was still up when he woke, but already hanging rather low in the sky, the shadows long in the room he slept. There was a warm weight on his legs. He sighed. Daeron had a slight suspicion that the warm weight was in fact a bald, sleeping little prince and was proven right when he rose to his elbows and looked down.
Egg threw himself across Daeron's legs and spread out like an octopus, his mouth open wide as he softly snored, covering his eyes with an arm.
The other intrusion into Daeron's sleeping space was a pair of boots resting on his blanket. At least they were clean, as expected of the ever meticulous Young Prince.
Said young prince was apparently also sleeping, a book on his lap, his head tilted back against his chair. Valarr's dark hair was a mess, starting to curl up at places. It always did that when his cousin was in a sufficiently toasty environment, the heat and the sweat bringing out his Roynish blood.
Daeron felt amused at the sight of the two and didn't feel compelled to get up at all. Daenys was right. Despite the sleep he felt somehow more tired than before. Not tired in his body, but rather in his mind. Other than his persistent headache and drowsiness, he also felt like he did the times when his tutors still insisted in spending long hours of his day over their books. Memorising names and dates and laws, battle plans, learning strategy and lineages and poetry and Valyrian verb conjugation. His brain felt drained.
He sighed, reclining once more and enjoying the warm, drowsy silence. Or, he tried to.
Daenys' words kept repeating in his mind. There was just so much of it, so hard to comprehend and he dearly wished to put off thinking about any of it. The Gods have chosen unwisely when they made him a Dreamer, there were many much better people for it. Braver, smarter, more determined.
Daeron had no business carrying out any great work or trying to save to world or wield great power. It should have been Baelor or Valarr, or even his father. Loath Daeron was to wish any Dreams upon them, but he had no doubt they would have borne them with more grace.
Dragons were apparently also a lot more magical than originally suspected and wasn't that a surprise? Targaryens already thought the world of them and now it turns out they could travel to dreams and keep their riders sane.
Sane. Daeron shuddered.
He already did not feel sane on most days, half trapped in dreams and mumbling nonsense to any poor soul he come across. he did not know how he felt about this state of affairs being the lesser evil in the face of a much worse option.
The knowledge that being an empty, soulless husk sometimes reanimated by what little remained of him was even an option was a sobering realisation. He took heart in Daenys' words then. He probably would have been dead before that even happened, but still...
"Cousin, you look like you've seen a ghost." Daeron startled, hard, when the comfortable silence was broken by Valarr. The younger prince was stretching in his chair, his nose crunched up and his hair even more messy now that he attempted to fix it.
"A ghost, you say? Well, Val, you will not believe what I'll tell you..." Daeron trailed off, looking down at Egg. The boy would probably want to hear this, however sleepy he still might be after spending his night running around, looking for knights. He reached down, poking the top of that bald head. Nothing happened, save for a small, annoyed huff.
Valarr was quick to catch on and he moved to the bed with a grin. His strategy was quite different from Daeron's and he immediately went for kill, tickling Egg's sides until the little prince woke up with an indignant cry, trying to kick both his cousin and older brother.
"Let me! Sleep! You are both horrible, I'm soo tired I will die!" Yelled Egg as he attempted to bite Valarr's hand.
"Oh? Maybe you are right and we should..." Started Daeron. Egg squinted at him suspiciously, not believing in a too easy victory. "But are you sure you don't want to hear about what Daenys the Dreamer told me?"
Aegon pouted, then buried his face in the blankets. "I'm not a babe, I know very well that she's dead! You can't talk to her, Daeron, unless you can talk to ghosts. Which you cannot. You are just pulling my leg and not letting me sleep!"
"Well. She did talk to me and told me to go on an adventure with Balerion, but I suppose you don't have to listen if you are really so tired. I will just tell Val." Val sent Daeron a questioning glance, seemingly not so sure himself about the Daenys business. Daeron tried his best to make a reassuring face at him, one that would show that he was, in fact, serious.
Egg looked up at Daeron with a single, disgruntled eye, and then with the long suffering sigh of a much older person he started wiggling himself closer to Daeron's side. In light of the fact that he was unwilling to use his legs or arms he moved rather much like a little worm, advancing slowly but surely.
Valarr covered his mouth with a hand, trying to hold back his laughter as Egg imperiously stopped and burrowed himself under Daeron's arm.
"Let's hear it then. And if you are boring I will go to sleep." Said the little prince, already preparing to continue his slumber and making an exaggerated yawning noise to demonstrate his point.
Daeron sighed at the blatant disrespect and flicked Egg's forehead while Val continued his struggle, with increasing difficulty, to not laugh at them. Daeron looked at him, long suffering and unimpressed. "Let it out, cousin, you are starting to tear up."
"Sorry, sorry." Val gasped, laughing into his palm. "Sorry. I just thought... I've never seen a prince of the realm act like a little worm. And then I realised that there is nothing new under the sun... But can you imagine my father...? Or yours? hah!"
Egg perked up. "Uncle Rhaegel definitely tried to be a worm before!"
"I could believe it." Agreed Valarr. "Hells! I think he would probably do it again if we asked him nicely..."
"People. Do you truly not care at all for what I have to say? It was a most grave mistake to allow you two into the same room." Complained Daeron, but he was smiling too. It was difficult to imagine Uncle Baelor as a disgruntled, sleepy child, doing something less than dignified. He had less trouble imagining his own father like that, but found the result even funnier.
"Apologies, dear cousin. So. Let's see. How did you exactly speak to Daenys the Dreamer?" Asked Valarr, serious and baffled once more.
"Right. She didn't explain it completely, but it has to to with me having Balerion and also the fact that we are both Dreamers. She said, and I quote, 'What is a little time difference to people like us?'."
"What does that mean? I thought Dreamers see the future?"
"I'm not an expert either, Egg, believe me. I'm as confused as anyone has ever been on this topic, and Daenys was uniquely unhelpful. And also terrifying." Said Daeron, somewhat doubtful on the merits on introducing little Egg to the horrors of a lost Dreamer. He decided against it.
"The important thing is that Daenys and her family left us something on one of the islands close to Dragonstone and we will have to pick it up. And for some reason, we can only get the gift with Balerion."
"Oh, I want to go! We will fly there, yes? Will you take me?" Piped up Egg, suddenly forgetting to act all disgruntled.
Daeron patted his head. "We will go flying, but I don't know if I'll take you to the island. It might be dangerous, little egg."
"I'm not so little anymore, look at me! I'm a squire and I can help! While you were passed out drunk in the inn, I got to Ashford all by myself and even found myself a knight master. And we could take Ser Duncan too, on Balerion, and he would surely keep us perfectly safe!"
"...We can figure the logistics out at a later date." Said Daeron, diplomatically. He had no illusions of his father ever complying with such an adventure, but also no wish to debate it with Egg. He would leave this problem to be argued directly between the oldest and the youngest princes of Summerhall, both cut from the same stubborn cloth.
A resigned, disbelieving look crossed Valarr's face. "It speaks of the madness of recent events that I don't even fond myself surprised by such. Our exalted ancestors left us something centuries ago only accessible by one specific, legendary dragon and communicated this information to Daeron in a dream. Why not? Anything else, dear cousin?"
"Some. But nothing too important." Said Daeron, hoping that it was true. It hardly mattered now that he could have... what? Turned even more mad? It was all averted now, or so Daenys said and Daeron elected to believe her, for the sake of his remaining sanity.
"Daeron. Daeron, you will take me flying, yes? You promised, so you must. Not flying with me would be an infringement upon my rights." Asked Egg, making his eyes huge and wet. It would have worked better on Daeron if he didn't know the kind of menace the boy truly was.
Alas, it still worked.
"I have a feeling I will have to take everyone in the family flying Egg. I don't think there's anything in the world that will keep the lot of you on the ground now..." Sighed Daeron, already imagining all the mayhem. At least Balerion could hardly be bothered by most people, so the dragon would let him take anyone to the sky with him. "Our father also forbid any flying until the saddle is fixed."
Egg blinked and then nodded sagely. "And you are not going to listen to him."
"...And I'm probably not going to listen to him."
"Daeron!"
"Shut up Val, you wouldn't either in my place!"
He got nearly smothered by a pillow, but it was well worth it to hear the muffled giggles of little Egg.
...
Egg went back to napping after Daeron and Valarr fed him some fruits and made him drink some water, curled up under a blanket like a sleepy little dragon, half his eggshell still on his head.
Valarr patted the child's shoulder, his face terribly fond and they left the room quietly. "Matarys has gotten too big to slumber parties, in his opinion. I remember when he was Egg's age, he always migrated over to someone else's bed in the middle of the night, warming those ice cold toes to the detriment of his duly elected host..."
Daeron smiled, his shoulder brushing against Valarr's. "I'm sure he is a most serious prince now, just like his illustrious older brother. Who definitely never steals into anyone's rooms and bothers them to go on a ghost-hunt, in the middle of the night, on Dragonstone..."
"We had great fun, admit it."
"Not my point, Val, but I will easily admit to it."
Valarr hummed. "We should take Egg too. And Matarys and the Vale lot, and perhaps your sisters too? Would they like it, you think?"
"Rhae would, absolutely. She would be the group leader in five minutes. Daella... she would think us stupid, but go along for the fun of it. And for blackmail." Daeron huffed a breath, glancing at Val from the corner of his eyes. "And don't think I didn't notice who was conveniently left out of your much detailed list..."
"I want to look for ghosts, not become one in their ranks, cousin."
Daeron made a face, so very tired suddenly. "Fair."
"On the topic of Aerion, the way it got resolved is. Well. Rather absurd, no?" Valarr turned to him, his voice deceptively light.
"I do think it only worked because everyone is too distracted by the Balerion shaped elephant in the meadow. Suddenly nobody cares about Aerion's grievances and your father is free to keep the hedge-"
From one moment to the next there was a hand over his mouth and his head was pulled under Valarr's arm. "Not a word more. There are some things one does NOT wish to hear about one's father!"
Daeron understood.
That didn't stop him from licking Valarr's palm, much to the indignation of the younger prince.
...
They planned to pick up some food from the kitchens, eating some lighter fare in a nice, quiet corner. Their plan was interrupted by the visage of Maekar advancing down the corridor, a storm of fury in his every move.
Daeron quickly tried to think about anything he did recently that could be deserving of such reaction, but come up short. That was rather more terrifying than actually knowing the reason.
He froze like a deer and felt Valarr's hand close around his elbow as his father stopped in front of them.
"Uncle? Is everything alright?" Asked Valarr after Daeron failed to make a single noise, with a tone of voice that conveyed that he would be most helpful, should there be any problem, a picture of a sweet, dutiful prince.
Maekar sighed, his whole chest in it and run down a hand on his tired face. "Barely, but yes. Aerion will drive me to an early grave."
Daeron felt his own shoulders relax just a bit, seeing that he was not the recipient of his father's wrath. "What happened?"
"What happened? That foolish boy, Seven give hime some fucking brains, decided that it was a most splendid idea to try and claim your fucking dragon, because apparently he lost ALL his fucking senses!" The last of his words come out nearly as a roar, before his shoulders slumped with visible exhaustion.
"He's alive at least? Somehow?" Prodded Valarr, unsurprised by Aerion's stupidity and easily deducing that his uncle would not behave quite this way if his second son turned into dragon snack.
"Alive and unharmed but for his pride, yes."
"Well father. His pride could use some hurt, look at it that way." Hummed Daeron, very glad now that he strongly impressed upon Balerion to not hurt or eat any people, except if there was some immediate danger.
Maekar shook his head. It looked like he tried to shake the memory of Aerion's recent string of misadventures out of mind, but judging by the severity of his frown, he was unsuccessful. "And what are you two doing here? I've had quite enough of wildly wandering princes for a while."
"We just wanted some food, father." Said Daeron and then had a new idea. "And maybe one other thing? Do you know where uncle is? I wish to ask him about something."
Maekar rolled his eyes so hard that his irritation could probably be felt all the way to King's Landing. "Oh, I do know. Still with his new pet hedge knight, though I cannot fathom what he and Egg both see in that misbegotten, wall sized fool. Introducing him to his household, apparently. As if he had to do that in a person...!"
"Delightful, uncle, thank you!" Valarr cut in at the first opportunity, starting to herd Daeron away, valiantly trying to ignore any and all mentions off Ser Duncan.
"You do know that you will see them if you insist on keeping me company?"
"Do shut up, Daeron."
...
She flew high among the the clouds, the moon bathing her wings as the world below passed by, the waves of the great waters just as quiet as the lands. Without a rider upon her back, Silverwing dared the higher skies, where breathing burned her lungs and the wild winds carried her swiftly forward, higher than the mountaintops.
At first she did not know why she woke, but there was a point of burning light in the distance, like a second sun rising, seen only by her, calling to her from so far away.
There was music in the winds too, a familiar, deep resonance. Not any creature that she could hear from far away, but kin. Another like her and one she knew, and thought long lost. They all did.
Balerion, old and dark, his song more powerful than ever, even as he greeted her from the other side of the lands. Silverwing felt it in her bones, felt it in her wings and answered in turn, knowing well that her message would travel ahead of her, hailing her return to places she long abandoned.
She never thought she would fly this way again, but the calling of a new sun was much too strong. She did not want to resist it anyways. Now that she knew that she would not be entirely alone with Balerion there, with a new rider there, in this new age when all who've hurt her kin were long ashes, it filled her with a new fire.
There would be no Alysanne and her hatchlings, no fight against other dragons either, with only her and Balerion left. That was well. She would learn this world again, when previously she was content to go to rest forever.
The morning was closer now, the ever sure point of the sun turning closer to the horizon and her little sun was waiting for her too.
A new morning. She greeted it with a mighty roar, as her her shimmering scales were painted gold in the light.