fics I read

I would like to thank my beta, Awdyr, for his help in this chapter.

123 AC, Dragonstone

Rhaena Targaryen knew that her father loved her sister more than her. It had been something that she had accepted long before her mother's death. He had personally taught Baela how to speak High Valyrian, had even secretly taught her how to use a dagger when their mother wasn't looking. Of course, her mother had taught her High Valyrian and told her stories of Driftmark and her childhood, but she could tell that she was frustrated with her father's behaviour. She often claimed that the man simply didn't know how to interact with them, and since Baela was similar to him, it made it easier to be close with her.

She could see it. After all, Baela was the one whose egg hatched. Baela was the one who liked to play with toy swords and run around everywhere. She knew that her father loved her, and Rhaena had accepted that distance between them, even if she craved his attention. She had decided that if Baela was their father's favourite, then Rhaena would be their mother's.

Which was why her death had shattered Rhaena completely. Her father tried. She knew that. He tried to help them in their grief, but didn't know what to say. Then, he got married to Rhaenyra barely after her death, and everything changed.

Rhaena didn't like Dragonstone. It was always dark. Baela got along with Jace easily enough, but Rhaena had never felt more alone. She felt like a stranger in her new home. The only upside would be the possibility of taming a dragon after her egg failed to hatch, yet her father refused to endanger her since Wild Dragons were often very violent.

She missed Pentos, even if she was barely old enough to remember it. Maybe she just missed her mother, after all this time. It didn't matter either way. Her father would not let her go anywhere, and she didn't have a dragon to force the issue.

For all of her father's love for her, there was no question that he thought that she was lesser. Her cousins tried to get to know her, but there was always this distance. She was the only Targaryen without a dragon, and there was nothing they could do or say that made it otherwise.

And so, Rhaena was relegated to the background, spending most of the time in lessons, taking her dragon egg to the fire, hoping that it would, one day, hatch. No, she had lost hope a long time ago. She was doing it because it had become a habit at that point.

Life had become monotonous, except for a few exciting days. This was one of these days.

It wasn't common for Dragonstone to have visitors, and their new guests, Harry and Daphne Potter, were definitely not boring. She had heard the story from one of the servants who had been there when his father and his wife argued about what to do. Apparently, the man and his wife built an entire manse in secret near the beach.

She had laughed herself silly, especially since the man had somehow convinced their father not to burn them to cinders with Caraxes, and instead, to make some dinner. It had probably something to do with how quickly they built the manse and the magic silver that they held. She didn't quite believe the last part, but then again, it was better than being boring.

Lord Harry was funny and kind. He had obviously travelled all around the world, and his tales were ones that Rhaena had never heard before. He was kind and, most of all, he didn't seem to care that she didn't have a dragon. Or maybe he just didn't know that she was dragonless.

Their meal was nice; the conversation was great. Lord Potter seemed to think that some children's tale was real, for some reason, but he didn't seem to try to convince them, so that didn't really bother them. But it did seem to bother Rhaenyra, as she asked everyone to leave, but the man and his wife.

They all waited outside for a few minutes, away from their fuming father, who definitely did not like being dismissed in favour of a few guests. Rhaena wanted to ask him if he knew something about the reason for his wife's reaction, yet she had learned years ago not to bother him when he was angry. The rest seemed to agree with it.

It was Jacaerys who broke the silence, "What do you think they're talking about?"

"I don't know," Lucerys answered, "But mother was angry. I don't think I've seen her this angry before."

Rhaena spoke up this time, "Maybe they're talking about the Hightowers. We're always asked to leave when that happens."

Baela shook her head, "Our father wouldn't have been asked to leave it that was the case."

Finally, the door opened, and Harry Potter left the room, but without his wife. His owl, Hedwig, flew past him, made a lap around the room before settling on his shoulder. He turned towards them and smiled, "Oh, hello there. I'm sorry for making you wait. I'm hoping you all ate your fill."

Rhaena suppressed the urge to ask to pet the owl again. Her feathers were just so soft, and there was intelligence in her eyes, yet she stopped herself. Her father had seen the man and looked like he wanted to speak with him, but stopped himself for some reason.

Ah, maybe he was waiting until they were alone.

Nevertheless, the man was immediately hounded by the boys. Jace was the first to ask, "What did Mother wish to speak with you?"

"Oh, many things, but mostly a few things I've seen during my adventures. It seems that she recognised something I mentioned by accident and wanted an explanation."

"And what was it about?" Rhaena's father asked abruptly.

"Oh, I can't possibly break the princess' confidence, can I? No, if you want to know, then you'll have to convince her to tell you."

Her father looked like he wanted to argue, but stopped himself once more. It was odd, to see her father so restrained. He always let his feelings known, even his brother, the king, and especially the Hand, Otto Hightower.

So, why did he seem to respect this strange traveller?

There had to be something. Was the man powerful or wealthy? If so, why would they build a manse in her stepmother's domain? It didn't make sense.

She didn't have time to think of things, as the man clapped his hands with a wide smile on his face, "Oh, I almost forgot, the real reason I came here…"

They all leaned forward, and Rhaena noticed her father motioning to draw his sword. Yet they all stopped when the man's grin grew mischievous, "Gifts!"

Rhaena felt a smile grow on her face as well. It was odd how comfortable she felt around that man. He was just so kind. She could see it in his eyes, a warmth that wasn't there when he was talking to her father and stepmother. Speaking of her father, he looked relaxed.

As expected, a grinning Jace raced first towards the man. She could almost hear her Septa shake her head at how improper this was, and that made things even better. The man grinned, and kept trying to pad his odd cloak, as if trying to find the gifts, before smiling widely, "Oh, here it is," he knelt down and gave him an odd tube that looked like a small far-eye.

It didn't look especially luxurious, not like the ones from Myr. In fact, if it wasn't for the glass lenses, she wouldn't have recognised it at all. Yet, with a flick of his wrist, the far-eye expanded, becoming almost as large as the one she had seen in her grandfather's solar.

She hadn't seen a collapsible far-eye before. She hadn't even known that they existed, and obviously neither did Jace, who was staring at the gift with stars in his eyes, "Thank you."

Lord Harry then turned towards Luke and gave him a small black box. Rhaena leaned in and saw some sort of circle moving around, with a red arrow on it. Luke gave the man an odd look, and all he received was a soft smile, "The red arrow on the box will always point North. I heard that you're to be the next Lord of the Driftmark. Perhaps this will help you should you find yourself at sea."

He then knelt down to Joffrey, and gave him a wide smile, "As for you, perhaps a smaller dragon would suffice."

The man handed him a wooden toy dragon that looked very well-painted. Joff giggled and waved it around, only to notice that the wings moved with the wind. Rhaena was awed by the toy, and a bit envious as well. She didn't know how that was possible, and Lord Harry didn't seem inclined to explain it.

Baela received a small thin dagger, very expertly forged, with beautiful carvings of dragons near the pommel. Her sister seemed overjoyed with the gift, even if her father looked shaken slightly for some reason. She didn't understand why her father disliked Lord Harry so much. He seemed like a nice man with kind eyes.

Eyes that had turned to her, making Rhaena realise that it was finally her turn. She was excited about what she would get. She tried to repress her reactions as the man took out a small box and gave it to her. She opened it, and a small bracelet made of gold, with a beautiful red gem inside it.

She had probably imagined it, but the gem moved slightly, and it felt a little warm. It was a beautiful piece of jewellery, but Rhaena couldn't help but feel disappointed. Everyone had received something that they had never seen before, or at least, something that they couldn't easily find. Rhaena could easily get better bracelets by asking her stepmother, and that would be it.

Her reaction must have shown, as Lord Harry knelt in front of her, and put the bracelet around her arm, "I found this gem in a king's tomb. It is thousands of years old, and yet, it looks almost untouched, a legacy of a forgotten civilization, and now, you'll wear it on your wrist. Perhaps it will aid you to achieve your dreams."

She was about to thank the man, only for the door to open once more with Lady Daphne leaving the Great Hall. She gave her husband an exasperating look, "Please tell me you didn't give them priceless artefacts again, Harry. Did you give them any weaponry?"

"It was just one dagger," he replied sheepishly.

The woman huffed and turned towards them, before freezing for a fraction of a second at the sight of Rhaena's bracelet and turning towards her husband with an eyebrow raised.

They seemed to have some sort of silent conversation before she rolled her eyes, "Well, I suppose this was a rather nice meal, but it's time for us to go back home. We still have a lot to do to prepare for our next expedition. I suppose this is farewell."

Her husband seemed to agree, "I suppose it is. I hope that I'll see you again, children. It was very nice to meet you all. Feel free to visit. I know that Hedwig will miss you, too."

And just like that, they walked out of the castle, leaving them all to stare at their new gifts. Her father, on the other hand, immediately rushed into the Great Hall, hoping to speak with his wife.

Jace had given Luke his new far-eye, while he was playing with the North pointer box, spinning around, marvelling as the box continued to point North. Joff was running around with his new toy.

Baela was playing with her dagger, smiling, and yet, Rhaena did nothing but stare at her bracelet. Everyone seemed happier with their gift than she was with hers. All she had was a stupid old piece of jewellery that didn't even look pretty.

Yet, her eyes couldn't leave the gemstone. It felt like it was moving, like it was breathing in time with her pulse. The warmth surged, just for a second, and something rushed through her, sharp and sudden, like a tide crashing against her skin.

She gasped and staggered back, the world spinning. No one else seemed to notice. Jace and Luke were still laughing, Baela still twirling her dagger. Her mouth went dry. The warmth hadn't returned; it was gone now, quiet again, and there was no sign of anything wrong. The gemstone looked normal again.

Without thinking, Rhaena turned on her heel and burst into the Great Hall, her breath shallow, eyes wide. She entered just in time to see her father and stepmother arguing, "I do not have time for this, Daemon. I need to leave for King's Landing. I'll take Syrax, and I'll be back soon."

"I'm not asking for much, Rhaenyra. Just an explanation. First, you send me and the children away, you choose to be alone with a man that I warned you was dangerous, and now you're suddenly leaving for the Capital, into Otto Hightower's centre of influence, our enemy, I might add, without even an explanation."

"I do not have to explain my actions to you, husband."

Her father growled at her, "Yes, you do. I am your husband, and your actions could endanger your cause and even my children. You are acting rashly."

"Going to speak with my father is not a rash act, Daemon."

"So, you're going to see Viserys, after he all but banished you to this island? And what could you possibly speak to him about that I can't know of?"

"It is a matter between the King and his heir, a matter which does not concern you," Rhaenyra growled back.

Her father reeled back, as if he was struck, and that was when Rhaena spoke up, "Father, my bracelet, it did something, I think it…"

Daemon turned, his face still twisted in fury from his argument. "Not now, Rhaena."

"But…" she tried again, clutching the bracelet as if that would make her words stronger, clearer.

"It burned. Just for a second. I think it…"

"I said not now!" he snapped, voice echoing through the hall like a whipcrack.

Rhaena flinched as if struck. Her eyes burned, breath catching in her throat. She stared at him, at the man she had tried so hard to please, to understand, to be seen by, and all she saw was the fury that had nothing to do with her. Or maybe it did. Maybe it always did.

She turned and fled the Great Hall, tears hot and fast against her cheeks. He was just angry, she told herself. He didn't mean to shout. He was angry at Rhaenyra. Angry at everything. Not at her. But deep down, she knew the truth. He never shouted at Baela. He had time for Baela. He looked at Baela with pride in his eyes.

But for her?

She wasn't a Dragonrider.

Her egg never hatched. She was the only one left without a dragon, without a bond. And maybe, just maybe, that was why he kept her at a distance. Because no matter how much she studied, how hard she tried to behave, she didn't belong. Not without wings.

Fine, then. If she had no dragon… she would find one. A wild one. If no egg would choose her, then she would choose her own fate.

Tonight, she would go to the Dragonmont. Tonight, she would find a dragon and claim it. Tonight, she would prove herself a true Targaryen. Tonight, she would make her father love her

Rhaena always thought that Dragonstone looked best at night. The shadows were longer, deeper, and the wind carried with it a stillness that the day could never offer. It was also quieter. There were no Septas scolding her for daydreaming, no cousins trying to include her in games that didn't need her, no Baela outshining her in everything without even trying. At night, the castle was hers and hers alone.

Up here, under the sky, she learned to dream. It became easy to imagine a world where her mother had lived, a world where her egg had hatched, a world where her father would love her as much as Baela. She had always woken up feeling disappointed. Well, tonight, she would change that. She would claim a dragon, and she would earn her name as a Targaryen.

Sneaking out of the room wasn't hard. Her guards weren't exactly the most vigilant in the castle. After all, they were in Dragonstone, away from the dangers of King's Landing, meaning that they were safe. During a few sleepless nights, Rhaena had distracted herself by imagining ways to sneak out of her room. There weren't guards constantly standing outside her room after a few hours into the night, rotating as a few guards slept. Instead, they started patrolling the floor, which gave her an opportunity to sneak out if she timed it right.

Rhaena put on a cloak and gently opened her door, creeping along the outer paths in the corridor, and left just before the guards returned. Her boots were nearly silent on the stone, each step deliberate. It was surprisingly easy to escape the keep. To be fair, her stepmother had flown soon after the Potters left, and her father was too angry about it to care about their security. The entire castle was distracted, and it showed.

Now, she only needed to find a dragon, which was harder than one might expect.

But she could feel it in her bones. This time, she would be successful.

She had to be.

Baela often complained that she was too quiet, too careful. Well, she was done being careful. She was done being quiet. And now, she was simply too tired of waiting. If the gods had denied her a hatchling, then she would claim one with her own hands.

She wasn't Baela. She wasn't the favoured daughter, the sword-wielder, the heir to Laena's fire. She was the one who listened too much, waited too long, and dreamed of things she was never allowed to reach.

But not after tonight.

Her father had never let her claim a wild dragon, claiming that they were too dangerous and unpredictable, and yet, if Aemond could claim Vhagar, stealing her mother's dragon, then Rhaena could claim a dragon of her own.

And it wasn't as if Rhaena was planning on claiming the Cannibal or something as absurd. No, her target was the Grey Ghost, barely more than a story, but one that Rhaena knew to be true. She had seen him once, diving to eat some fish from the ocean, before disappearing into the Dragonmont. He was smaller than most grown dragons, but he was more than mighty enough for her.

She had heard rumours of the dragon's lair being on the Eastern side of the Dragonmont, hence her destination. She moved with purpose now, each step steadier than the last, the cool wind tugging at her cloak. The path was steep, winding its way around the rocky slope, slick with moss and old sea spray. Her boots slipped more than once, but she didn't stop.

She gritted her teeth and kept climbing, hands scraping against the stone when she lost balance. The world narrowed to the rhythmic sound of her breath, the crunch of gravel beneath her steps, and the ever-growing sense of heat.

Not the warmth of the mountain's heart, she knew that feeling, the slow, constant breath of the Dragonmont. This was different. This heat pulsed. It throbbed against her skin like a second heartbeat. It made the air feel heavier, made her blood sing in her veins.

It guided her.

She didn't know how to put it into words, but she could tell that there was something nearby, something more than just the heat from the Dragonmont.

And that's when she saw it, a narrow crevice carved into the mountainside, half-hidden behind a tangle of dead roots and jagged stone.

She stepped closer, breath hitching as the warmth grew. Not just warmth. Heat.

Her hand brushed the edge of the rock, and she slipped inside, into the dark. The tunnel sloped downward, rough and narrow, and the heat grew thicker with every step.

There was a dragon nearby. She could feel it.

And then a loud rumble, and Rhaena thought what she had mistaken in the darkness as a spikey rock, suddenly move and open a gigantic eye.

This wasn't the calm, skittish dragon that she had expected. This wasn't the Grey Ghost.

No, this eye burned green like wildfire, slit-pupiled and watching her with a predatory stillness. It blinked once, and in that blink, the darkness shifted. She saw the outline now: huge, sinuous, spiked. The beast was draped across the stone like a living shadow, each jagged scale absorbing the light. Black.

She could see its back, which was filled with rows of uneven spikes.

There was only one wild dragon who was as large as the one before her.

The Cannibal.

Rhaena froze. Her breath caught, her legs screamed to run, but she didn't.

After all, the dragon hadn't made any threatening moves, not yet, just stared at her with its green eyes, as if surprised that she was there in the first place.

Instead, she straightened, heart hammering in her chest, and stepped forward, "If I can't have Grey Ghost," she whispered, "then I'll take you. I am Rhaena Targaryen. You will be mine."

The dragon's eye narrowed.

She raised her hands, feeling the old words on her tongue. "Dohaerās… obey…"

For a moment, just one agonising heartbeat, it stilled.

It didn't move. Didn't breathe. Just watched her. No, she realised that it was staring at her bracelet, not at her.

She barely had enough time to react as the dragon opened its maw, and a faint green glow illuminated the cavern. She knew exactly what that meant and threw herself to the side, rolling against the stone as heat scorched the edge of her cloak. The tunnel roared with the sound of fire, and she ran, scrambling, half-crawling, desperate.

Rhaena didn't know if it was the fear or an act of the gods, but she was able to leave the cavern. She was so grateful to escape that she hadn't noticed a loose stone and slipped, falling onto the rocks and tumbling down the narrow slope, skin scraping, lungs burning.

A part of her wanted to stay there for a while, and yet she felt her bracelet warm slightly, followed by a loud shriek. She limped up and saw the familiar form of the Cannibal fly down towards her.

Despite the agony she felt in her legs, Rhaena limped away, with tears in her eyes. The desperation clouded her judgment. She didn't know how she could escape in the first place. Even uninjured, she wouldn't be able to go to Dragonstone in time to get help, and even if she did, how could they help her? Even her father was wary of the Cannibal after all.

Why was it so focused on her?

The Cannibal rarely hunted people. He killed them if they got close, of course, but he rarely actively followed them.

And yet, that was exactly what the wild dragon was doing. Rhaena did her best to hide, to stay in narrow paths to avoid being seen, and yet the Cannibal simply wouldn't let her. She was almost at the beach now. Perhaps someone could see and alert her father, or maybe she could hide underwater. She knew how to swim. Her mother was a Velaryon after all. She knew that her plans were foolish, but what else could she do against a dragon?

Speaking of the dragon, she couldn't find it anywhere, even near the Dragonmont. Had she lost it? Had it finally given up?

Laughter bubbled in her throat at how close it was, until she heard a loud roar behind her.

Clouded in the darkness of the night, the Cannibal descended like a shadow made flesh. His wings barely made a sound as they cut through the air, but Rhaena felt the pressure of them—heavy, suffocating, ancient. The sand lashed at her face, and her cloak twisted around her legs as she stumbled forward.

But her legs gave out.

She hit the ground hard, knees scraping stone and sea-grit, her breath knocked out of her lungs. Her arms barely caught her, trembling, weak, bloodied. The air was thick with heat, and she turned over with effort, staring up at the monster above her.

The Cannibal was hovering above her, batting its wings with such strength that Rhaena felt the sand thrown by its wind give her a few cuts.

And yet the young girl didn't move. She didn't scream. She didn't flinch.

She knew that it was useless, that there was nothing she could do.

Her father was right. She had been foolish to try to tame a wild dragon alone, and now she would pay the price of that decision.

She stared at the dragon's maw as it opened, the green light illuminating the beach. The glow was brighter this time, beautiful in a way.

Rhaena's mouth opened, but no words came. Just breathe. Just fear.

And then, for the first time in what felt like forever, she thought of her mother's face. Laughing. Brushing her hair behind her ear. Whispering High Valyrian lullabies in the warm sun of Pentos.

Baela would miss her.

She hoped her father would, too.

Then the green flames came.

Rhaena wanted to be brave, but she even failed with that. She closed her eyes, bracing herself for the heat and the pain, only for nothing to happen.

Confused, she looked up, and saw a gigantic glowing circle with dozens of weird symbols that she had never seen before, and somehow, it was holding back the flames.

She had never seen anything like it before, and yet, as the jet of green flames continued, the circle kept protecting her, even as the ground behind her started to melt from the heat.

A familiar voice spoke up, "Are you out of your mind, kid?"

Harry Potter stood there, in the same clothes he wore during his visit to the castle in the morning, yet he felt more. She didn't know how to explain it. He looked very different from the carefree, yet somewhat silly man who gave them gifts. For one, he looked more intense, more hardened, perhaps there were some truths in his wife's words about him being a warrior once.

If Rhaena had to describe it, it would be that he seemed more than a simple man. Was that why her father was so wary of him? Did he know anything about this?

Rhaena wanted to say something, but sound refused to leave her mouth. The man's eyes softened, "We'll talk later. "

She had been so preoccupied with Lord Harry's arrival, and whatever magic he used, that she hadn't noticed that the Cannibal's dragon fire had stopped. The glowing circle disappeared, and her saviour walked forward towards the dragon, completely unafraid.

It might have been her imagination, but the Cannibal seemed to hesitate for a moment as he met the man's eyes. However, he still opened his maw once more, only for a bolt of lightning to appear from the heavens and strike the dragon's wings. The beast screeched and fell on the beach during the attack.

Harry Potter walked towards the dragon, calmly, and the dragon seemed to do its best to get away, before it leapt into the air, and awkwardly flew back to the Dragonmont.

She couldn't help but breathe out, "What are you?"

"I'm just a man, like many others."

"Men do not make dragons flee in fear," she answered back dryly.

"Perhaps I might be a bit different from other men," he replied with the familiar mischievous tone in his voice. "With that unpleasantness taken care of, now, let's get you healed up before anything gets infected. Then, I suppose you'll have a lot to explain, young lady."

Rhaena couldn't help but gulp, feeling like facing the Cannibal again would probably be easier than what was coming.

23 AC, Dragonstone

Rhaena couldn't help but gulp, feeling like facing the Cannibal again would probably be easier than what was coming.

Rhaena walked alongside her saviour, feeling exhausted from her earlier adventure. The man hadn't said a word beyond putting a cloak around her and having her follow him. In a few minutes, they found themselves in front of a manse, and the sight of it made her understand why her stepmother was both worried and interested about its construction.

Rhaena had imagined a small wooden home or a hut, not a large manse that looked like it was carved from the mountain itself. The cost, effort, and time needed to make something like this was immense, if they didn't have magic of course.

Yes, it had been quite an easy conclusion to make, given what she had seen, and yet, she wasn't scared. She didn't know why. She had heard of small snippets of what sorcerers were capable of, back in Pentos. It didn't sound that powerful, especially compared to a dragon, and yet there was always a cost somewhere, one that tended to be abominable.

Her father knew much more about the subject, which was probably why he had been so wary of Lord Harry. Speaking of her father, she couldn't help but shiver at his likely reaction when he would see her, "He's going to kill me, isn't he?"

"Who is?" her saviour asked.

"My father. He always warned me not to try to claim a wild dragon. He's going to take one look at my injuries, and he'll ground me until I'm a woman grown."

"What injuries?" the man replied with an amused tone.

She was about to give him an incredulous look, only to notice that her leg wasn't hurting anymore. Even the cuts on her arms had disappeared completely. She took off her saviour's coat, only to notice that even her clothes were fixed, somehow.

Rhaena stopped walking and stared at him. "You healed me."

"I said I would, didn't I? My wife was always the better healer. She has a natural disposition towards it, but I'm no slouch. Now, since you're all healed up, why don't you tell me what you were doing near a dragon this size without any protection?"

Rhaena looked down at the sand, "I just wanted a dragon. Everyone else has one, and father…"

She didn't finish as the man knelt down and hugged her tightly, "Tell you what, I have a very special drink inside that's perfect to deal with feelings like this. How about you give it a try?"

The young woman barely had time to register what he said before realising that they were standing in front of the entrance of the manse. She could swear that they were further away, a few minutes ago. She shook her head and decided to follow her saviour's advice.

The doors opened on their own, and Rhaena did her best not to gasp at what was inside. It was luxurious, yet there not overly so. There was a warmth there that made the manse feel like a home, instead of a display of luxury. Rhaena barely had time to take it all in before she was guided to a room with a few couches, one of which was occupied by the Lady Daphne, who was reading a thick tome in her hands.

The golden-haired woman looked up and raised an eyebrow. "I was not aware that we were having guests, Harry."

The man looked sheepish, a far cry from the powerful sorcerer who had fought a dragon just a few minutes prior. "You remember Rhaena, right? She was in a bit of trouble and had a bad day. Why don't you stay with her a bit while I make her some hot chocolate?"

The woman's eyes brightened and motioned to talk, only for the man to raise his hands in surrender, "Yes, I'll make you a cup too."

Lady Daphne's eyes sparkled in excitement, and the man rolled his eyes and left the room. The golden-haired woman gave her a kind look, "I'm assuming that my husband understated how much trouble you were in. He wouldn't have intervened if it weren't something that could cause some lasting harm."

Rhaena gave her an awkward smile, "I went to the Dragonmont to claim a dragon. I found one, but he really didn't like me."

"Ah, I can see that. For all his talk of neutrality and leaving things be, Harry always had a weak spot when it came to children. It's why he gave you that bracelet after all."

"The bracelet?" Rhaena asked, confused. She thought that her bracelet was barely more than an afterthought compared to everyone else's gifts. Jace and Luke had gotten something that they had never heard of before, even Joffrey's toy was new. Baela had gotten a weapon, and yet, Rhaena had gotten a plain piece of jewellery. She thought that it was a slight of some sort, a useless gift for a dragonless Targaryen. And yet, now that she looked back at it, there was some oddness in the stone, the way it heated up, the way there was something inside it, moving, "The stone. It's magic, isn't it?"

"A significant oversimplification, but an accurate conclusion, nonetheless. Harry and I found it in an ancient, abandoned shrine in Japan, dedicated to Amaterasu, the goddess of the sun. I was surprised to see something like this, if I was honest, a fragment of a realm of fire and light, a spark, really. It is not extremely powerful, but more than enough to be dangerous in the wrong hands. I didn't know why he gave it to you, but I suppose that I can see it now."

"Why did he give it to me?" Rhaena couldn't help but ask.

"Because you were sad and quiet."

"I don't understand."

The woman's eyes softened. "You have been sad for a long time. Grief and longing fill you, and yet, you were quiet. Children cry and rage because they want attention, because they're hurt or afraid. But when they're silent in their pain, it's because they can't stop. Harry saw you, and saw a girl in pain that wouldn't stop, and he decided to help, like the meddlesome man he pretends he isn't."

Rhaena wanted to rage, to protest, but small tears gathered in the corner of her eyes. She barely had time to wipe them before Lord Harry returned with three steaming cups filled with an odd brown drink.

He handed Rhaena one, who gave him an odd look. Did he expect her to drink this?

Lord Harry rolled his eyes, "It's called a Hot Chocolate. It's scientifically effective at making you feel better. Why don't you have a sip and tell me what you think?"

Rhaena did just that and gasped at the rich flavour that she tasted, as well as the warmth coursing through her. Her host gave her a smug look, "I told you so. So, what were you talking about?"

"The priceless artefact of power that you gave a child," his wife replied in a dry tone.

"We weren't doing anything with it, and it's practically harmless, especially in another universe. It just has some energy stored that I thought might help her a bit."

The woman's eyes widened, "Oh, so that's why you gave it to her. That explains a lot."

Rhaena had no idea what they were talking about, and motioned to speak, "I have a few questions."

The man gave her a warm smile, "Of course, dear. What do you want to know?"

"Who are you, truly?" she couldn't help but ask.

"I never lied, my dear," Lord Harry replied, "We really are travellers, both of us are. We like to go see new places, discover new civilisations, maybe have a few adventures. We came to this place because it seemed interesting. We never encountered dragon riders before, and this place has a special place in history, I can tell. We built our little house, with a nice view of the beach, and geographically, it's a nice, central place in the places we want to visit."

"You scared off a dragon," Rhaena replied with an incredulous tone, "travellers don't just do that."

"I suppose we're not your average traveller. You've seen enough to make a conclusion, haven't you?"

"Magic?" the young girl asked hesitatingly. But at her hosts' nods, she continued enthusiastically, "I've never heard of magic like yours before. And isn't magic supposed to be very dangerous?"

"Oh, it's extremely dangerous," the man replied kindly, "And it has killed many arrogant mages who thought themselves to be above the rules. And before you ask, magic isn't something that can be taught, but something you are born with, much like being a Dragonrider."

Rhaena couldn't help but be filled with disappointment. She had planned on asking the man to teach her. For magic was obviously more powerful than a dragon. Lord Harry had shown that to her earlier.

But something niggled at her. Aegon Targaryen had conquered Westeros, not because it was his right, but because he was powerful enough to do it. A man who scared off dragons and summoned lightning from the sky had power akin to that of the gods. Wouldn't it be his right to conquer them, as her ancestor had over a century ago?

She asked him just that, "If you have so much power, so much strength, then why aren't you a king?"

Lord Harry knelt down and gave her a complicated look, as if seeing her for the first time, "Power is such a fickle thing, Rhaena. Men crave it, the influence, to be remembered in the annals of history, to carve a legend that would be sung for thousands of years. It's something I dreamt of, once. But look at your father. Look at your stepmother, and tell me, are they happy?"

Rhaena remembered the constant frown on Rhaenyra's face, the way her father's eyes dimmed after her mother died, his constant rage at something that happened in King's Landing or another. It was the first time that she realised that whatever moments of happiness they had were brief.

She shook her head, and Lord Harry smiled, "Long ago, circumstances forced us to fight a war, one unlike what you had ever seen. People chanted my name and would remember me as a hero, my feats would probably be known for thousands of years, and yet, it felt hollow, especially compared to a single evening with my wife. People often dedicate their lives to power, but it's those who dedicate it to happiness, to joy, that truly live a full life. If there was one thing I could teach you from all of my experience, it would be that chasing happiness by pursuing power will likely never end well. Had you claimed that dragon tonight, do you think that anything would be different?"

"Yes. I won't be dragonless anymore. I'll be true Targaryen," she protested.

"Perhaps, but I'm not talking about any dragon, but the Cannibal itself. The moment you tried to claim him, you weren't thinking about your happiness but the power the beast would bring you. If you had returned riding this beast, perhaps your father would have paid more attention to you. Perhaps, you would get some attention, but it wouldn't be you, would it? It would be the rider of the Cannibal that they would care about."

Rhaena stiffened, tears growing in her eyes, "I just wanted them to care… I wanted to have a dragon too…"

Lord Harry held her tightly and spoke up, "And I suppose I do have to make up for that little fiasco, don't I?"

"I don't understand," she muttered while sniffling.

"Well, I didn't expect you to go confront a dragon of all things, right after giving you your bracelet. You would have likely been nothing more than a curiosity for most of them, but you met the one dragon that would crave what's inside the stone."

"The magic from that sun goddess?" Rhaena replied, vaguely remembering what Lady Daphne said about the stone.

"Not quite, but I suppose that's accurate enough," the man answered while laughing, "In a way, this stone could empower a dragon massively, but the Cannibal is not an ordinary dragon. I didn't have the time to study it completely, but the beast was wrong and malformed. Perhaps it was an act of chance, or perhaps it was a ritual that had gone wrong, that used the egg somehow. The dragon is constantly leaking its own magic, its own power. Dragons absorb magic to grow, yet this one keeps releasing it. I don't know if it's instinct, but it found that eating dragons and their eggs could allow it to absorb its magic, and it has done that for years and years, living from one meal to another, hoping to survive by eating hatchlings and dragon eggs. Quite the sad and tormented creature, huh? What you have in your hand is something that could feed it for centuries, and it recognised what it was, and chased you down. In a way, I played a part in your misfortune, even if I had not intended it to happen."

Rhaena glared at him and exclaimed without even thinking, "You almost got me killed!"

"If you hadn't snuck out tonight, then it wouldn't have happened either," the man protested, "But I suppose I should make it up to you, don't I?"

The young girl, who felt slightly embarrassed by her outburst, started to shake in excitement. Lord Harry chuckled, "Calm down, my dear. Let's get you home first."

"Gods, I'll have to sneak back in," she muttered, "The Cannibal would have made them more alert."

The man was laughing at her panic. Before she could glare at him, she turned and found herself and Lord Harry standing in her room, back in Dragonstone. The man was still drinking that heavenly hot chocolate – she still had no idea what that was, but there had to be some magic involved in making it. He gave her an amused look as words failed to come out of her mouth, "I would very much prefer if you don't mention our little adventure to anyone. I doubt most would believe it anyway, and the ones that do would hopefully be smart enough not to bother me. Then again, people can be so dumb sometimes. Now, it's very late, and it's time for you to go to sleep."

Rhaena wanted to ask about the gift he promised to give her, but her eyes felt heavy all of a sudden. She felt so tired, and then everything went dark.

She woke up feeling extremely comfortable but also sore all over her body. She had a very strange dream, with Lord Harry being some sort of wizard who saved her from the Cannibal. That had to have been a dream, right?

She moved around in her bed and felt something warm near her, which confused her. Her first guess would have been that she had slept with her egg again. She used to do that every night, back when her mother was still alive. In Pentos, it was a ritual of some sort for her mother and her to imagine the egg hatching in her sleep, and describe what dragon could lay within until she fell asleep. She had stopped after they went to Dragonstone. The ritual felt empty without her mother.

Rhaena finally opened her eyes and sat up, only to freeze as she noticed the origin of the warmth. It was her egg, or at least, it used to be her egg. In its place were pieces of broken shell, and a white dragon hatchling took its place. The hatchling looked up, Rhaena having probably woken it up, and it stared at her, revealing the streaks of orange, yellow, and red around its body. It reminded her of fire and the sun, for some reason.

She blinked. It wasn't a dream, was it?

The young girl looked at the bracelet in her hands. The gem looked much the same, but it felt empty. The small pulses of warmth she felt while holding it, the small imperceptible movement, were all gone. That was Lord Harry's gift, the privilege of claiming a dragon of her own.

A wide smile grew on her face, and she couldn't stop herself from laughing, softly at first, almost disbelieving, and then louder, as joy poured out of her like a dam breaking. She cradled the little hatchling in her arms, and it chirped at her sleepily, curling into her warmth. Her chest ached, and her cheeks were wet before she even realised she was crying.

Not because she was sad, but because for the first time in her life, she felt whole.

Her dragon. Her dragon.

She had a dragon now. She was a true Targaryen. She didn't have to prove it to anyone.

The door to her room creaked open, revealing her sister giving her a worried look, "Rhaena, are you alright? You won't believe what happened last night. The Cannibal…"

Baela froze as she saw the chirping dragon in her arms and the broken eggshell on her bed. "Your egg. It hatched."

And just like that, her sister ran towards her and embraced her tightly, babbling with excitement, but Rhaena barely registered the words. She just held her tighter, burying her face in Baela's shoulder as her dragon nestled into her lap.

"Thank you," she whispered, not to her sister, but to the quiet morning, to the bracelet on her wrist, to the man who gave her more than she ever thought to ask.

She had been seen. She had been heard. And in the end, that was what mattered the most.

123 AC, King's Landing

It was almost dark when Rhaenyra finally arrived in King's Landing, atop Syrax. She hadn't made such a long journey, not since the Driftmark incident, at the very least. She looked down at the city, still flying, and couldn't help but feel like an outsider. This was supposed to be the future place of power, where she would rule over the Seven Kingdoms. This had been her home for half of her life. This had been where she had spent time with her mother before she died.

And yet, looking down, she felt like a stranger, an intruder into Alicent's domain. It was a wonder how much a few years could change things.

Nevertheless, she needed to face this with grace. Daemon was already angry enough because she refused to tell him what Harry Potter had told her. She was tempted to, if she was honest, but she remembered that day, all those years ago. Her father's sever face, the seriousness in his voice, the damning words he said, of the responsibility of the head of House Targaryen, of the King of the Seven Kingdoms, they were all etched in her memories.

That and Harry Potter's words, the knowledge he held on prophecy and Aegon's dream. She needed to tell her father, and no one, not even Alicent or Otto, would stop her.

Harry Potter's words were still on her mind, the absolute conviction that the darkness would come in the next two hundred years, that Aegon's dream was not a gift, but a curse. Her father always knew more about the subject and had studied it religiously. Now, she needed his advice, and perhaps, he would need her help as well.

With renewed resolve, Rhaenyra stopped circling the city and landed on the dragon pit. She could feel the tiredness of Syrax through their bond and frowned slightly. It was true that she hadn't ridden her dragon a lot recently. Five pregnancies and being banished through everything but name had stopped her from riding as much as she did in her youth. She'd have to rectify this.

The Dragonkeepers walked up to her and cautiously approached Syrax. Their leader addressed her, "Welcome back, princess. May I ask if you will be staying long in the Capital?"

Rhaenyra shook her head, "No, I have no plans on staying for long. Just give Syrax some food. She tires from the journey."

The Dragonkeeper nodded and left her without saying another word. Rhaenyra wasn't bothered by it. They were always blunt in their duties. It probably had to do with facing dragons every day.

Nevertheless, she made her way through the familiar halls of the Red Keep, and it did not take long before the whispers spread ahead of her like wildfire. She hadn't sent word. She hadn't asked for permission. She hadn't come as a guest.

The Greens were scrambling.

And yet, Rhaenyra wasn't relishing it. She had grown up within these walls, and yet, the moment Rhaenyra stepped past the gate, she knew that this was no longer her domain.

The corridors had changed.

The rich crimson tapestries of old Valyria, the ones that had once hung like silent sentinels from the walls, were gone. In their place were banners of deep green and gold, trimmed in silver thread, each one adorned with the seven-pointed star of the Faith. Where once the three-headed dragon had watched from mosaic and marble, now came images of saints and knights jousting.

She walked on, teeth clenched behind her smile, and realised something bitter and true.

This was not her father's castle anymore.

It belonged to Alicent. To Otto.

Every step deeper into the castle was a reminder that her influence over King's Landing had withered like a forgotten vine. She was not heir here. Not truly. Not anymore.

As if to prove her point, by the time she reached the outer courtyard, a small procession awaited her. Otto Hightower stood in front, face pinched in irritation, his hands folded behind his back. Beside him, Queen Alicent wore a polite smile that didn't reach her eyes. Ser Criston stood to the side, hand on the hilt of his sword, flanked by gold cloaks whose eyes never left her.

"Princess Rhaenyra," Otto greeted coolly. "This is an unexpected visit. To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"I've come to speak with my father," she said, without flinching.

Alicent stepped forward, voice gentle but firm. "The king has requested no contact with you, Princess. Not until he is better prepared."

"I wasn't asking for permission," Rhaenyra replied, her tone flat and unyielding.

Ser Criston tensed, but Otto merely sighed. "He is resting, Princess. The king is unwell. Perhaps…"

She didn't wait for him to finish. With a flick of her cloak, she swept past them, her boots echoing loudly in the corridor. Her father must still be in his bedroom. She should have guessed that. She knew that his illness had progressed in the last few years, and he was barely able to walk at that time.

They scrambled to follow her, and she could hear Otto protesting loudly behind her. She ignored him completely, each step more purposeful than the last. She wasn't here for their games, their rituals, their carefully measured pleasantries. She had wasted enough years dancing around their designs. No more.

The guards made to block her path at the threshold of the royal wing, but something in her gaze must have warned them, because they parted without a word. Ser Criston's boots struck the stone with hurried steps behind her, and Alicent's voice rang out again, more insistent, more desperate, "Princess, you must understand, the king cannot…"

She glared at Alicent so heatedly that the Queen stiffened. As if to push her point, Syrax shrieked loudly in the distance and breathed fire into the air, illuminating the sky briefly.

Ah, there it was, the fear. For all of the smugness of the Hightowers, it was hard to stay composed in front of a Dragonrider. Normally, she would have been more diplomatic, as Otto would undoubtedly complain to her father about her behaviour, but Rhaenyra knew that he would care much more about Aegon's dream than some useless courtly manners.

The Kingsguard guarding her father's room stood in front of her, and she gave Alicent a pointed look. She nodded at them, and they let her pass. She opened the door to her room and gasped as she saw her father's figure.

He looked like a shadow of the man she remembered, lying in bed, swallowed by layers of silk and fur that only served to emphasise how much of him had wasted away. His skin was so pale it was almost translucent, stretched tight over bone. She could count each rib beneath the linen of his nightshirt. His left arm was gone, cut further back than before, and there were raw, angry patches where chunks of flesh had clearly been carved away. Likely, the Maesters, trying to stop the rot.

And then his eyes met hers, and whatever reservations she had vanished as his eyes lit up when he recognised her.

"Rhaenyra…" he rasped.

"Father. It has been a while."

"I suppose it has. I have missed you, daughter."

"And I missed you as well," she answered back, doing her best to hide the bitterness at the fact that he had been the one who banished her to Dragonstone in everything but name. And yet, looking at the man before her, she simply couldn't find it in herself to be angry at him.

"Did you bring my grandchildren with you?" he answered in a stronger tone than she expected, given his condition.

"I'm afraid not, Father. I left them in Dragonstone. I have come here, urgently, asking for your advice on a delicate matter. I thought that you would be the most knowledgeable on the subject."

Despite her father's smile growing, Alicent scoffed loudly, "What could be so urgent that you needed to come without even sending a raven?"

Rhaenyra gave Alicent a cold look, "This is something that I will need to speak with my father. Alone."

Otto gave her an infuriating smile, "You are in the presence of the Queen and the Hand of the King, princess. I assure you that if you need counsel, we would be very happy to provide it."

"This is a matter between the king and his heir only," Rhaenyra gritted back.

She could see Otto and Alicent stiffen, obviously wanting to protest, but she didn't let them. Instead, she looked directly at the Valyrian Steel dagger, the one Aegon the Conqueror had commissioned. Her father followed her gaze, and his eyes widened. "Are you certain?"

"This is about the Song, Father. I have news, and you are the king, the head of our house. You need to know and perhaps, even give me some advice," she simply replied.

The expression on the king's face was complicated, a mixture of wonder, doubt, and panic. Perhaps he thought that there were signs of the coming darkness approaching, or anything of the like. He just looked at the room and ordered, "Leave us. I need to discuss this with my heir."

Otto looked like he wanted to protest, but something in her father's gaze stopped him. He simply nodded, "Yes, your grace."

The Queen followed him, glaring at her while leaving, and they were followed by the King's Guard. Her father gave her a severe look, "I trust that you did not use our house's legacy just to fuel your feud with Alicent, Daughter."

"No. This is true. I met someone, a traveller. He knew of the Song of Ice and Fire. He had more information on it, and you are more learned on the subject than I."

That made the king stiffen, "Someone knew of Aegon's dream."

"Yes."

"Tell me everything. Do not leave out any details. Because, let me tell you, Rhaenyra, if you have been swindled into revealing our house's duty, our legacy…"

Rhaenyra didn't let him finish that threat, "I haven't. I swear it by all the gods, I haven't breathed a word of Aegon's dream to anyone, not even Jacaerys, my heir. Yet, Harry Potter knew more of it than even I did, Father. His knowledge of prophecy was akin to that of a Maester studying his craft, not some charlatan."

"Then explain, daughter."

She nodded, "My sword shield found a foreign coin in the hands of one of the smallfolk in a tavern. He asked where he had gotten it from, and he said that he had gotten it from a woman. He thought that it was a forgery of some sort, but no blacksmith or jeweller could scratch it. He tracked down the woman to a manse on the beach, where he met a man and his wife, Harry and Daphne Potter. They had built the manse in days at most, and it looked much like Valyrian Stone. After Daemon paid them a visit, they agreed to meet with me. I had been hoping that they'd found some Valyrian treasures or the like, in their travels, and that they would share their finding with us."

"And an indestructible coin," her father stated in a dry tone.

She put the silver coin in her father's lone hand, "I've seen Daemon hit it with Dark Sister. It doesn't even have a scratch on it."

The king seemed to look at it with wonder, "What of Aegon's dream?"

"I don't know how he knew. In the middle of the conversation, he described our ancestors escaping the Doom as a song woven by fate itself, a song of fire and flames, to battle the coming darkness and ice. I knew in that moment that he knew of Aegon's dream."

"These might have just been normal words, Nyra," Viserys protested.

"Well, the Maester's lessons I got about prophecies, how Dreamers get their ability from their dragons, the fact that this prophecy has been told and retold for centuries all over the world, confirmed things. Thankfully, I had the mind to ask for some privacy before the man started talking about the Long Night occurring somewhere in the next couple of centuries."

"The Long Night?" Viserys questioned slightly, "I think I have heard of this before, but it slips my mind."

"A very old tale. Harwin… Harwin Strong told me of it. It's well-known in the houses descending from the First Men. It speaks of the Others, creatures of ice and darkness, capable of raising the dead, fighting living before being beaten back by the First Men, the Giants, and the Children of the Forest, with them building a gigantic Wall of ice to stop them from returning. Potter stated that variations of this story exist across the world, even in Essos and Yi-Ti."

Viserys seemed doubtful for a moment before muttering, "I never considered looking at the accounts of the First Men."

Thankfully, Rhaenyra had an answer for that: "Harwin told me that most of the stories of the First Men are passed down orally. The very few written tomes were burnt by the Faith or written in the Old Tongue, the First Men's language before the Common Tongue spread out all over the Seven Kingdoms."

"You've left me a lot to think about, Rhaenyra. You're right. I am interested in understanding more of Aegon's dream, but I'm too unwell to research the matter with the discretion that our legacy deserves. Perhaps you could invite this Harry Potter to King's Landing and let me judge if there is some truth in what he said. What did he ask in return for his knowledge?"

"Nothing. He didn't seem to care at all. He even gave the children some gifts, although I didn't get the time to look too closely at them, as I flew here on Syrax as quickly as I could. He even gave me a gift, something that he claimed was far more valuable than most kingdoms put together."

Her father gave her an incredulous look, and she smiled, removing her new necklace, already missing the warmth and comfort it gave her. She took out the vial, with the drop of the glowing liquid inside it. The king stared at it, with an awed look on his face, and touched it with his lone hand, "It's warm."

"It's supposedly the tear of a bird of fire, one that is reborn from the ashes every time it perishes. It is said that it could cure anything, other than death itself. The moment he gave this to me, I knew that I used to give it to you, that it wasn't meant for me, not truly," she finished, voice low, as she placed the vial gently into his palm. "You once told me that a ruler must bear the burden for those they love. Well, this is mine, Father. But it was meant for you."

Viserys looked down at the vial resting in his remaining hand, its golden glow casting faint light across the pallor of his skin. His fingers curled around it slowly, almost reverently, and his breath hitched.

"You would give me this?" he rasped.

"There was never a choice," Rhaenyra answered. "You're the king. My father. You deserve more than to waste away, helpless in a Maester's care. I wish for you to see my children grow, and the realm needs to see the king at his strongest. This is the correct choice."

Rhaenyra took the vial from his hand and opened it. A lone glowing tear dropped slowly into her father's mouth, and then, for a few seconds, nothing happened. She was about to say something, only to notice that the flesh around his cheek began to shift.

It was so subtle that Rhaenyra almost thought she had imagined it. But the change didn't stop. Slowly, the colour of his skin warmed, the greyish tinge fading away. Slowly, the pale, paper-thin skin began to regain a touch of colour, as if warmth had returned to blood that had been stagnant for far too long.

And then his hair began to grow, not in length but in fullness, strands thickening, the brittle silver turning more lustrous. It reminded her of the man he had once been, still frail, still tired, but no longer a walking corpse. He looked younger, impossibly so. Not as she remembered him at her tenth name day, perhaps, but close. Stronger. Healthier. Alive.

Even the rot, which had eaten into his arm, his back and side, was fading. She watched with disbelief as the discoloured patches lightened, the angry skin knitting itself, slowly healing, with the flesh that the Maesters had cut returning.

The scars around his amputated arm started to heal, and his breathing deepened, steadied. His spine straightened slightly. The tremor in his fingers calmed, and he was staring at them, as if not believing what he was seeing.

Rhaenyra didn't blame him. She had some trouble believing it as well, despite Daphne Potter's words on the tear's effect.

Magic.

This was undeniably magic, impossible magic that she had seen with her two own eyes, a magic that had healed her father.

Slowly, her father turned away from his bed, stood up without the help of his cane, and smiled widely at her. He walked up to her, each step steadier than the last, until he stood right in front of her, and wrapped his good arm around her shoulders, holding her tightly. She leaned into it, allowing herself that single moment of comfort.

"Thank you, Rhaenyra. And you were right to come to me with this. I suppose that a trip to Dragonstone is in order. It has been some time since I met my grandchildren after all."

Rhaenyra smiled. Harry Potter's gift had bought her time, had saved her father. She had never expected the effects to be so extraordinary, so powerful, and despite her happiness, she knew that she needed to be careful when dealing with the man. After all, if he could heal her father from the brink of death, then what else could he do?

Rhaena Targaryen had to be one of the happiest girls in the Seven Kingdoms, and no one could say otherwise. For she finally had a dragon of her own. It had been a few days since the hatching, and even now, she could barely believe that after so many years, the same egg her mother had always promised would hatch finally did. Of course, Lord Harry and his magic had done most of it, but Rhaena liked to think that she had a hand in her little miracle as well.

She had dubbed her hatchling Solarys because he reminded her of the sun. And hadn't Lady Daphne said something about the magic stone they had given her, being found in the temple of a goddess of the sun? It seemed fitting, especially given the colour of her scales. Rhaena had never seen a dragon with multiple colours before, at least, with so many different colours as Solarys. White, yellow, orange, and red, it reminded her of the flames, of the sun. Maybe her stone had changed her dragon somehow.

To be honest, she didn't care. Her dragon was born, and that was more than enough for her.

Still, she was slightly sad about the stone, which had quickly lost its light after her egg hatched. It wasn't exactly hard to understand what had happened. Whatever magic was in the jewel had hatched her ring, but the magic was gone now.

It put Lord Harry's gift into perspective now.

No wonder he hadn't thought that she would be in danger. All she had to do was to sleep with her egg for a day, and she would have gotten her dragon, even without her adventure in the Dragonmont.

Lord Harry had always planned on hatching her dragon egg. He had just planned on being subtle about it. She could understand why. If her family knew that Lord Harry could help them hatch Dragon Eggs, they would stop at nothing to force him to do it until his dying day.

A part of her wanted Lord Harry to stay. He was kind, gentle, smart, and very funny. Another part had seen him stop dragon fire, summon lightning from the sky, and scare a dragon into hiding, with a scary look in his gaze, and she didn't want that gaze directed towards her family.

Even now, she still hadn't told anyone of Lord Harry's involvement at all, or her adventure in the Dragonmont. Baela had been happy for her, so much that she ran straight to their father and told him. Daemon Targaryen had never looked at her with so much pride and happiness in his eyes.

She should have been happy. She should have been glad that her father seemed to care about her for the first time in her life. And yet, it was all tainted by Lord Harry's words. Why did a dragon change anything? She knew that her father loved her, but why did her egg have to hatch for him to do something about it?

It wasn't fair, and even with Solarys' hatching, she knew that nothing had changed, not really. And yet, everything did.

"What are you thinking about, sister?" a familiar voice asked. "If you keep playing with your food, Father might decide to dismiss the entire kitchen staff."

Rhaena looked at her place. She hadn't broken her fast yet; her thoughts made her too preoccupied to feel hungry. "It's nothing, sister, just some thoughts in my head."

Jace spoke up loudly, "Thoughts about your dragon, right?"

"Yes. Solarys has just started to breathe her flames."

Her father spoke up for the first time since they sat down, "That's unexpected for a dragon her age."

"She's growing quickly, too," Rhaena bragged with a smile on her face.

"You're right. It won't be long until you'll need to leave her in the Dragonkeepers' hands."

That young girl replied with just a stiffened nod, nothing more. She didn't like the thought of Solarys being in chains somewhere. She knew that Baela didn't like Moondancer not being close by either. When they were younger, the young dragon had spent years trotting around their homes, following Baela around like some kind of cat. Their mother had once joked that Moondancer grew slowly because she didn't want to be separated from Baela.

Thankfully, Lucerys changed the conversation: "When is Mother going to return?"

That was a good question. After the meal with Lord Harry and Lady Daphne, her stepmother, Rhaenyra, had gone to King's Landing urgently and hadn't returned since. Her father was opposed to it and loudly made that known. If she had to guess, he didn't care about his wife's absence too much but was simply angered because she refused to tell him the reason she left in the first place.

He'd been quiet since the Princess left, and Rhaena wondered if it had more to do with that or because of Lord Harry.

Which made Rhaena suppress a flinch at Luke's change in subject. He'd always been attached to his mother and had been grumpy about her leaving. He had realised that she was gone the day after, when he'd gotten bored of Lord Harry's gift.

Rhaena had to admit that their gifts were surprisingly useful. Rhaena had gotten the best one, of course, as it helped her hatch Solarys, but Baela kept playing with her dagger and had surprisingly not cut herself on it once. Normally, Rhaena would have called it luck, but with Lord Harry's magic being revealed, that was the more likely culprit. Joffrey hadn't stopped running around with his toy dragon in his hands and had behaved as long as he played with it. Jace liked watching the dragons with his collapsible far-eye, something that he now kept on his person all the time. As for Luke, while he seemed to get bored with his gift after a while, a box that always pointed North was something that her grandfather would likely kill for. The sea is in her veins, and she could understand its importance, on both dragonback and on a ship.

Yet, as she expected, her father's expression darkened at the mention of his wife. He was about to answer, only for Maester Gerardys to enter the room silently, whisper a few things to her father, and give him a small scroll, likely a message from a raven.

A strange expression appeared on Daemon Targaryen's face, a mixture of panic and anger, if she had to guess. The Maester had wisely walked away without saying another word. Gerardys had quickly learned how to navigate around her father's temper, who only tended to give advice when he knew that it would be heard.

In a surprising feat of control, her father spoke up with a neutral tone, "It seems that the King and his retinue are set to sail to Dragonstone. They should arrive in a few days at the most. I believe that your mother will join them as well."

Silence.

That was exactly what met her father's proclamation.

She didn't remember the King, not really, other than during her mother's funeral. He looked like a sickly man and not really what she imagined a king to be. He was supposed to be only a few years older than her father, but he looked like an old man.

Rhaena had been too distraught to care about him. Her mother's death, Vhagar being stolen, and the fight with Aemond overshadowed the sad old man with only one arm, yelling at everyone.

She wasn't the best when it came to politics, but it wasn't hard for Rhaena to see why the King and the Hightowers were coming to Dragonstone. They were coming for Lord Harry. No wonder her father looked slightly panicked and angry. His brother hadn't come to visit him for years; he didn't come to see his grandchildren or his nieces. Instead, he'd come for the sorcerer after Rhaenyra flew all the way to the capital to see him.

For some reason, Rhaena didn't like that. She didn't like that at all. She felt the need to warm Lord Harry, the kind man who had fulfilled her dreams. It was the last she could do, wasn't it? To stop the crown from making an enemy of a powerful sorcerer. She would be helping them both.

That thought niggled inside her head for hours after the meal, until she decided that the best course of action, was, in fact, to warn her saviour.

Rhaena snuck away from her Septa when she was distracted and made sure that none of the guards would see her. She wished that she could have brought Solarys with her, but her dragon was asleep after she fed him, and she didn't think that sneaking around with a hatchling that could now breathe fire would have been a good idea.

It didn't take long for her to make her way out of the fortress, dressed like one of her servants, and walk up to the beach, until finding herself in front of the familiar manse.

Feeling slightly anxious, the future Dragonrider motioned to knock on the door, only for it to open without any prompting. She slowly walked inside, only to be met with the smiling form of Lady Daphne. "Oh, Rhaena, it's wonderful to see you again."

"Thank you, Lady Daphne. It's good to see you, too."

She gave the older woman a quick smile before stepping inside, glancing around as if half-expecting the walls to vanish or shift into something else.

"I hope I'm not disturbing anything," Rhaena said, voice lower now. "I… I wanted to speak to Lord Harry. It's important."

Lady Daphne tilted her head, studying her carefully, and for a moment, Rhaena thought she would be asked to leave. But then the older woman simply nodded, stepping aside. "He's in the study. Follow me."

Rhaena gave a thankful nod and followed the golden-haired woman through the hallway, her footsteps muffled on the strange floor. Rhaena had been a bit distracted during her previous stay in the manse, with the fact that she almost died and all, but now that she had a proper look, for a house of a sorcerer, this place looked oddly ordinary. There were no glowing cauldrons, no heads of evil witches, no body parts being displayed anywhere. Sure, there were some odd things and items displayed, and a lot of glass for some reason, despite how expensive it should be. There were some paintings of places she had never heard of, or some portraits that were extremely life-like, but Pentos had been just as different compared to Dragonstone.

Nevertheless, Lady Daphne finally arrived at the study and opened the door, letting them both step inside. Lord Harry was sitting by the window, staring at the sea, with a very large tome in his hand. He turned when she entered and smiled, "Ah, Rhaena, you're earlier than I expected. I thought that your new friend would keep you preoccupied."

Something inside Rhaena warmed at the confirmation, "Thank you, Lord Harry. Solarys… She's… everything I dreamed she'd be."

"Solarys," the man whispered, "A beautiful name and a fitting one at that, given the source of your jewel. I'm glad to see you with so much life inside you."

There was just so much kindness in the man's eyes that Rhaena just didn't know what to say. How would one bring up the fact that he would soon have the full attention of the king? The man had been nothing but kind, not expecting any reward in exchange.

Still, Rhaena gathered the courage to speak, "I came to warn you. The King is coming. With the Hightowers. They're coming to Dragonstone. For you."

Rhaena regretted the words as quickly as they left her mouth. That had been blunt, extremely so. She prepared herself for the reply, only to stare as she realised that Lord Harry was snickering.

She huffed, "What is it?"

"No, it's just that you looked so scared of my answer. Don't worry, kiddo, I can handle a couple of greedy nobles without too much trouble."

"This is the King, not some noble. And I think… I think they know about your magic."

Her host gave her a kindly smile, "It's a very kind thing you did, coming here, but you don't need to worry about me. I've been expecting this to happen, even if it's not so soon. I suppose Rhaenyra was extremely reckless. I expected her to think a bit more before making a decision like this. She wasn't exactly on a timeline."

"She left King's Landing just after our meal," Rhaena replied.

"So, very reckless, huh?" Lady Daphne commented, "That's not a good quality in a ruler."

Lord Harry rolled his eyes. "But it's also not our problem. We're not her subjects, after all."

"But you're staying in Dragonstone," Rhaena replied, "That means that you have to obey her."

"And does she expect the dragons in Dragonstone to obey her as well?" her host answered while chuckling, "Believe me, there is very little she or her father can do to make me do anything. All I've done is make sure that the continent won't go up in flames while we're still here. Besides, it's not like we're going to stay in this manse for very long."

Panic soared in Rhaena's chest. "You're leaving."

"Eventually," Lady Daphne answered kindly, "As we told you, we're travellers. We like to go to new places, see new things, and solve a few mysteries. We have a lot of places we want to see, including Valyria, the Wall, Winterfell, Yi-Ti, and even Sothoryos."

"Then you'll need to speak with my grandfather, the Sea Snake. He sailed farther than anyone I know. He can help you if I ask him. I don't mind sending him and Grandmother a raven, but only if you come back after your trip. And you'll have to give me a gift too, and you'll have to wait for him to come."

Lady Daphne gave her a small smile, the kind that made her feel both comforted and like a child. "We'll be here for a little while longer, don't worry."

Rhaena didn't know why, but those words filled her with such immense relief that she almost sagged in place. She hadn't even realised how tightly she'd been holding her breath. The thought of them just leaving, without saying goodbye, without another word, felt wrong somehow. Like something important was slipping through her fingers.

"And about that gift," Lord Harry commented with a gleam in his eyes, "We did find something very interesting here on Dragonstone."

Lady Daphne gave her husband a pointed look. "Are you seriously inviting a child without her parents' permission to one of our expeditions, one that could be dangerous?"

"She'll be fine. And you know that we can keep her safe easily enough. This is technically her legacy as well, so at least one Targaryen should be there for it."

Rhaena perked up instantly. Were they looking for some kind of hidden Targaryen treasure? She wanted to know, "I can do it."

The woman rolled her eyes and gave her husband an accusing look, "Come on, when we were her age, we did some silly things too. And just escaped a giant dragon attacking her."

"Harry, I told you many times that what we experienced as children was not normal." She then slumped, "Your mind is made up, isn't it?"

"It's just a hunch I have. She'll be my responsibility, and if it really gets too dangerous, I'll just send her back. And I studied this place a lot; there should be no real danger in it. We'll just be exploring for a bit, and we'll be back in a few hours at most."

Lady Daphne glared for a moment before turning towards Rhaena, "Let me get this straight, young Lady. If we tell you to run, you run. If we tell you to jump, you jump. If we tell you to stay silent, you stay silent. If we tell you to leave us behind, you leave us behind. Do not touch anything without telling us, and when we're done, you are not to breathe a word of it to anyone. This isn't a joke. This is life and death, and a single mistake will kill you. Are we clear, Rhaena Targaryen?"

Rhaena couldn't help but feel smaller underneath that gaze, but she steeled herself and nodded silently.

Lord Harry gave her a wide smile. "So, Rhaena, what do you feel about going on a little adventure?"

I would like to thank my beta, Awdyr, for his help in this chapter.

123 AC, Dragonstone

Rhaena couldn't help but feel smaller underneath that gaze, but she steeled herself and nodded silently. Lord Harry gave her a wide smile. "So, Rhaena, what do you feel about going on a little adventure?"

Rhaena followed Lord Harry and Lady Daphne as they left the safety and comfort of their manse and walked along the beach. They were going on an adventure, which she had to admit she had no idea about. She'd been excited to be part of it at first, to spend time with her hosts and maybe even see something that she would brag to Baela about.

Lord Harry had said something about a Targaryen witnessing the act. Had they found some sort of Dragonlord secret left behind by her ancestors? She had no idea. There were always stories about the island and how Queen Visenya hid her treasures when she ruled it. Rhaena wasn't sure, but she was excited to see it.

However, after what felt like hours walking around the island, her enthusiasm had faded slightly. Lord Harry and Lady Daphne had been walking as if they were on a romantic trip on the beach, and Rhaena couldn't help but complain, "Are we close yet? We've been walking for so long."

Lady Daphne rolled her eyes at her, "Rhaena, it's barely been ten minutes."

The young girl blushed and looked away. Perhaps she had been exaggerating a bit about the time, "Perhaps if you told me where we're going, I wouldn't complain as much," she muttered, trying to sound annoyed rather than sheepish.

Lord Harry just chuckled, the sound far too amused for her liking. "Don't worry, we're here."

He motioned to a small, narrow cave in the Dragonmont, and she took a sigh of relief. She was tired of all this walking. Lord Harry waved his hand, and the entrance started to grow wide enough for them to fit inside it. Rhaena couldn't help but marvel at the sight of the magic.

There wasn't any ritual, blood sacrifices, or even long incantations, just a wave of a hand, and reality shifting. A part of her wanted to beg Lord Harry and Lady Daphne to teach her magic, but she didn't want to ask for too much. They'd already all but given her a dragon, after all.

Nevertheless, they walked calmly into the cave, which was illuminated by a small ball of light that Lady Daphne created, and Rhaena gasped as she saw what was inside.

It was far bigger than she expected, given the small entrance, which had shrunk down after they entered. And yet, it was the paintings on the cave's walls, of men with swords and what looked like children, that took her breath away. They looked very old and held some sort of significance that just made her blood sing. And yet, it seemed that time did not wither its shapes or colours. She couldn't help but ask, "What is this?"

"I forgot that you didn't know about the paintings," Lord Harry replied, "Before Valyria ever existed, before the Andals even came to Westeros, the First Men landed here and fought against the Children of the Forest. It was a bloody war indeed, one that ended with a stalemate, as they gained a new enemy."

He moved away and allowed her to see a large group of men made of ice, whose eyes seemed to glow despite being paintings. The man continued, "The Others, the White Walkers, whatever you want to call them, became the enemy of all life, and the two enemies worked together to fight back against them. Normally, that would be it, a nice story, but there are too many things that don't add up. For one, there is often mention of Dragonsteel being used, and yet, by all accounts, dragons only appeared thousands of years later in what would later become Valyria. Valyrian Steel shouldn't have even existed at the time. This place, this island, is just too convenient. The Dragonglass is also unnatural. One can make obsidian easily enough, but it shouldn't have the ability to channel magic like the one in Dragonstone does. These are all things I want to answer."

"And you think that there are answers in this cave?"

"Not really, but I think that this will help a bit."

The man snapped his finger, and what seemed to be a crack in the wall started to slowly move and widen, until it showed another section of the cave on the other side. He let out a wide grin, "Sneaky, isn't it? I think that this is meant to be used by the Children of the Forest. They were said to sing the Earth into moving."

Rhaena was about to speak, only for the older woman to interrupt her, "Now, Rhaena, we're in completely uncharted territory. That means that you'll need to be extremely careful from now on, and especially don't touch anything."

They walked forward and realised that what they were seeing was a small corridor leading them down, until they found themselves in a large cave, with what seemed to be a wall made of smooth black stone as one of the walls.

There was some writing on the wall. Rhaena immediately recognised it as a variant of High Valyrian. And yet, it was odd. She knew her Valyrian very well, but this looked somewhat crude. No, not crude. It was more poetic. She could barely make sense of it.

"Let this blackened stone stand as witness, that even the brightest flame may gutter when kindled in blindness."

She hadn't even realised that she had muttered this, and yet the moment she did, she felt the air shift slightly, as if it was both colder and warmer, something that Lady Daphne seemed to notice as well, given the odd look in her eyes.

This was the first time Rhaena had seen the woman look anything but the odd mixture of strictness and kindness. It reminded her of a Maester studying a book or trying to figure out which ointment to make. She could finally see the similarity with Lord Harry, who had the same look whenever he spoke of magic.

Speaking of Lord Harry, he was staring at the words in the off Valyrian dialect, and she heard him mutter, "Fascinating. This was written in blood. The magic is still there, the intent. Whoever wrote this was afraid. Very, very afraid."

He stepped forward, brushing his fingers along the smooth surface. The moment he touched it, the glyphs glowed brighter, and the cave seemed to hum with power. Rhaena instinctively took a step back, though she couldn't bring herself to look away. The stone around the words shifted, disappeared without any issues, and in its place was a smooth black wall. Surprisingly, the words written in blood still remained on it.

Lord Harry stared at it but didn't say anything. It was Lady Daphne who broke up the silence, "Not just afraid. He was dying."

They peered to where the woman was looking and saw a skeleton who hadn't been there before, looking oddly clean for being hundreds of years old at the very least. The blonde knelt down and carefully took out a dagger from inside it, "Sacrificial magic, very crude, but I can't deny that it was effective. If I had to guess, he used it to enhance the wall. I read about it. Valyrian Stone, I think, said to be stronger than diamond."

Rhaena was the one who spoke up, "I thought that you were travellers. How do you know so much about Old Valyria?"

"I don't know much," Harry muttered, "The library on Dragonstone had some books on Old Valyria, even if it was sparse."

"You stole my family's books," she asked dryly.

"Not really, I just copied them. Magic can be nifty like that. And to be honest, there weren't that many books in the first place, just a couple thousand at best. If you want to see a proper library, I'll let you see ours."

Lady Daphne cleared her throat. "I'll make sure there's a section that isn't dangerous."

Rhaena had no idea why a library could be dangerous and, to be honest, she didn't truly want to know. And instead, she looked at the skeleton and asked, "You believe that he killed himself to create the wall?"

"Yes. Was he a man? Yes, definitely a man. I can feel it in his magic. The man was probably already injured, and he used his life force to create a wall separating what's behind, probably something dangerous, from going to the surface. He was in a hurry. His bones are too well-preserved. He accidentally overpowered the spell to affect his body as well instead of reinforcing the wall."

"Could he have lived?" the young girl asked.

"Likely yes. He died from a lack of life force, which he used for the ritual, instead of his injuries. He could have probably lived a couple of more years if he'd healed himself with the extra energy instead. But there's a much more important question to ask. The man was scared, terrified, even. So, what could be on the other side of this wall that scared a man enough to sacrifice himself?"

Before she could answer, the black wall immediately crumbled into nothingness, and with it, the skeleton turned to ash. Lady Daphne gave her husband a look, and he grinned sheepishly, "What? You can't say you're not curious, can you?"

The golden-haired woman rolled her eyes and walked up to Rhaena, giving her the dagger she'd taken from the corpse. The young girl immediately noticed the familiar ripples on the blade. After all, she'd seen it on her father's sword, "This is Valyrian Steel."

Lady Daphne nodded, "Yes. Keep it close, just in case."

Whatever retort Rhaena had died in her throat, as he recognised the woman's tone. She immediately knew that she wouldn't accept any refusal. And so, she simply nodded silently and followed after them as they walked past the rubble where the Valyrian Stone used to be. Instead, there was a tunnel that seemed to go downward into the very heart of the Dragonmont.

The first thing she felt as she moved past the barrier where the wall had stood was the heat. It wasn't the comfortable kind that came from a hearth or the sun on a summer morning. No, this was dry and suffocating, pressing against her skin like a heavy cloak. It smelled of stone, of ash, and something else, something that reminded her of old tombs and burnt bones.

The walls pulsed faintly with veins of red light, not quite flame, not quite stone, which somehow illuminated the tunnel, but enough to see past a few yards forward. Then something illuminated the tunnel. There was some rumbling, and then, blue flames soared from the bottom of the tunnel, going towards them.

Rhaena screamed, shielding herself with her arms, knowing that it would achieve nothing, only for the familiar circle of magic to appear in front of them, stopping the flames dead. For the first time since the start of their adventures, Lord Harry didn't look amused. He didn't look angry. He looked serious, especially as the circle of magic started to fade slightly.

Instead, he released a beam of red energy that seemed to make the flames collapse onto themselves. Rhaena heard a loud shriek in the distance, more akin to a hiss than anything, which quickly stopped as the last of the flames dissipated. He and his wife shared a look and nodded to one another before continuing their walk down the tunnel.

She couldn't help but ask, "What was that?"

"This was a flame, one that is alive, in a way. Things that stay near high concentrations of magic can be affected over the years. This likely started as a simple fire and started to feed on magic, enough to learn to seek it out in hunger when it developed a consciousness."

There was magic in the Dragonmont. Rhaena already knew that, as there was some kind of Valyrian sorcerer who had died to stop whatever was inside, but seeing it in person was different.

Thankfully, no other magical living flames tried to attack them in the tunnel, not anymore. After some time, they finally exited the tunnel and found themselves in a large cave. It was filled with some sort of grey fog that seemed to move around.

Before anything could happen, Lady Daphne raised her hand, and the entire fog disappeared, and with it, shrieks, similar to the ones she heard when the living flames perished, spread all over the cavern. She gave her companions a questioning look, and the woman explained, "The fog was toxic, and it moved too suddenly."

With the fog gone, Rhaena noticed a few glowing items all around the cavern. She knelt down and grabbed one. It was a ring, with dragons carved into it. It was also made of Valyrian Steel, "The man above didn't come alone, did he?"

"Very good, Rhaena," Lord Harry complimented her with a wide smile, "It's very unlikely that a single person came to explore this place. An expedition would have been far more likely. The question is, why did they come here in the first place? This was before the Doom, centuries before, at the very least. After the paintings that the Children of the Forest made, that's for sure, but still before your family came to this place. This place is too far from Valyria for them to explore randomly. They were looking for something here, and they knew exactly what it was. Given the Valyrian Steel, the expedition was well-funded, and there were wealthy members. Either way, they didn't get what they wanted and had to seal the entrance."

There was a change in attitude now. Lord Harry didn't look as carefree as before. Sure, he was still kind, but there was a seriousness in every step he took that hadn't been there before, even when he'd come to speak with her father and stepmother.

She understood why the Potters didn't seem truly apprehensive of her family's actions. Someone who delved into volcanoes and fought living fire and fog, just out of curiosity rather than anything, wouldn't fear someone wearing a crown.

Rheana found herself feeling useless in front of the mighty couple. She wanted to help. She wanted them to acknowledge her usefulness for some reason, and yet, she knew that what they were doing was beyond her.

As if to prove her point, the man raised his hand once more, and a pulse of Light appeared, seemingly fighting against invisible creatures, made of shadows, creatures that Rhaena hadn't even noticed. They looked more akin to the demons that her Septa liked to harm about, and yet, the man seemingly turned them to ash with barely any effort.

She hadn't even noticed the shadows until they were gone, hadn't seen their approach, hadn't felt their presence. They had simply… been there, waiting, and Lord Harry had snuffed them out like candles in the wind. And then, just as casually, he turned back around and kept walking, as if what he'd done meant nothing at all. Rhaena followed, her grip tightening around the Valyrian steel dagger at her side.

They kept walking in silence, each step heavier than the last. Rhaena felt like there was something pressing on her shoulders as they walked forward, and Lord Harry seemed to know where they were going somehow. She didn't dare ask.

They finally stopped in front of a small entrance that Lord Harry widened with his magic somehow. She gaped as she saw what was on the other side.

It was a cavern so vast that it defied reason. It was a hollowed mountain, taller than any sept, wider than any building in Dragonstone or Pentos, a place that should not exist, and yet here it was, hidden beneath her family's ancestral home all this time. They were perched on a ledge near the top, one of many entrances carved into the stone, high above the ground below.

Rivers of magma crisscrossed the stone floor far beneath them, flowing like molten veins, pulsing and alive. The walls themselves wept fire, red light trickling down like blood. And at the very heart of it all, untouched by flame or ruin, stood something that made her breath catch.

A nest.

A nest of weirwood trees, impossibly alive in this furnace, their pale bark unburnt, their red leaves fluttering gently in air that should have scorched them to ash. They were in a circle, and at the centre of it all, resting atop a bed of pale roots and molten stone, was an egg.

Not the kind she was used to seeing. No dragon egg of House Targaryen looked like this. It was massive, easily the size of a tower's foundation, and shimmered in colours that seemed to shift with every heartbeat, crimson and gold, sapphire and violet, green and silver.

It was thrumming with so much power that she could taste it on her tongue.

She didn't need to be told what it was. Some truths required no explanation. She simply knew.

She didn't know how, but she knew. Down in the heart of the Dragonmont, resting in fire and shadow, was a dragon egg.

Lord Harry let out a low whistle, lips quirking upward, "Well," he murmured, eyes locked on the impossible relic below. "This just got interesting."