Chapter Text
The custom of placing dragon eggs in the cradle of a newborn Targaryen was established, when Princess Rhaena placed an egg in Jaehaerys’ cradle, a tradition the House of the Dragon still followed, even after the last dragon had died long ago and none had hatched in decades.
And yet after her birth none was placed in Rhaenyra’s cradle, she would never know if her father simply thought it a fruitless endeavour and had only placed one in her twin’s cradle, because he didn’t want to offend her grandsire more than necessary or if it was her sex. After all a woman would eventually marry and the risk of other families gaining access to dragons, however improbable it seemed, was too great.
Maybe there was no reason at all, and her father had just been his pragmatic self, why place an egg if no one believed it would hatch.
But the Gods had curious ways of guiding the fates of man.
Years passed and the black scaled egg always in the background, when the royal twins would play or it lay between them in bed after Daeron had again snuck into his sister’s bed accompanied by it, because only she could quieten the strange dreams he would have. One time her brother had told er of a dream, a black and red dragon fighting with the red one winning.
Which the young princess had thought silly, after all the dragons were long gone and even if they weren’t there hadn’t been a black dragon since Balerion, who would’ve won any fight no matter the foe. Her father had told her about the magnificent beast on which the Conqueror had led the conquest, how his shadow would engulf entire towns, if he passed over them and how his skull was the size of a carriage. Maekar had promised her to show Rhaenyra the skull of Aegon’s mount when they visited King’s Landing the next time.
But that time wouldn’t come, Daemon Blackfyre declared himself the rightful heir to the throne and challenged her grandfather’s claim, all but declaring the king a bastard. They said that her father’s uncle had chosen a black dragon on red as his banner and Daeron seemed relieved to hear that, even though their lord father prepared for war.
She stood beside her mother and siblings as they wished their father farewell. Little Aerion had been displeased, that no one had asked him to be Maekar’s squire for the battles to come, but the promise, that he would be told everything seemed to placate him, while Rhaenyra dug her fingernails into her palms to stop the tears, which were threating to fill her eyes.
What if he wouldn’t return to them? Why had it to be him that rode into battle, when he still had two older brothers? Why were her uncles allowed to stay in the Red Keep, while their younger brother risked his life for a throne he’d never sit.
It seemed all rather unfair to the princess, but a princess shouldn’t lose herself to hysterics, at least that was, what her septa had said, when she had seen her cry the day before. Alas she stood with her chin held high and all the courage she could muster at nearly twelve years old.
Hours after her father had ridden out of the gates, she still stood tall as a pillar and foolishly hoped, that maybe he would change his mind and turn around, but that did not come to be.
Yet the worst thing about all of this was, that everyone else pretended everything was fine, even Daeron could not understand why she was worried as if the outcome should be obvious to her. She knew her father was a skilled warrior, but this was no tourney. If only Prince Maekar had a dragon on whose back he could’ve flown into battle, then she wouldn’t need to worry.
After a few weeks normalcy returned to Summerhall, the only two noticeable differences were, that her twin sat in her father’s place as he was now Lord until his return and that Dyanna Dayne for once did not object, when she noticed that her eldest did not sleep in his own bed.
Under normal circumstances she would've lectured them, that such a behaviour was highly inappropriate at their age and especially given the customs of their ancestors. At which Rhaenyra could only roll her eyes, she knew that other Targaryens had married their brother, but Daeron and her weren’t like them.
She might trust no one like him and would always try to protect his peace but not marry him. She would not suffer Queen Naerys’ fate, which had been told to her as a cautionary tale countless times. She wanted to marry a noble knight, who would be kind to her and her brother was no knight, already enjoying the wine cup more than his lessons with the master at arms.
She sat with her septa and mother in her rooms, all three on them embroidering different motives. The woman of the faith diligently stitched a seven-pointed star, her mother reworked an old dress on which she added falling stars and the princess worked on yet another red dragon on her black cushion, when it happened.
First none of them paid the screeching sounds any mind as it wasn’t unusual for kitten to get lost in the hallways, but the sound became louder and increasingly less like the sounds a cat would make, still her eyes were focused on her needlework. Surely whatever it was it would go away as quickly as it had come.
Well, the septa’s piercing scream changed things as the woman wasn’t prone to overreaction and her violet gaze searched for whatever it was, that had caused the panic. She barely registered her mother’s gasp and how she held a hand on her mouth, her attention resting solely on the little lizard, who waddled surprisingly determined in her direction. Well, it wasn’t really a lizard she thought, lizards didn’t have wings or that long of a tail.
Even if she saw it with her own two eyes it took some seconds, until her mind comprehended that it was no lizard but a dragon instead. A tiny black dragon, who now sat in front of her and was snarling at the poor septa as if he could provide some sort of protection, if she weren’t too stunned, she might have found it amusing or had even laughed.
Instead, she stared down with her mouth slightly agape at the small creature, who by all rights shouldn’t exist and surely even then should be at Daeron’s side and not hers. Conflictingly to these thoughts she cautiously reached down to let her fingers glide over the dragon’s small head, and he instantly nuzzled his head into her hand.
Fuck, this was going to be a mess.