Year: 121 AC

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On this crisp, foggy morning, the world seemed to exist in a realm between reality and dreams. The mountainside, veiled in a dense shroud of mist, appeared as a mystical land untouched by time. The air hung heavy with a serene somberness as if the very atmosphere were holding its breath in hushed anticipation, broken only by the distant chirping of birds and the gentle rustling of leaves as the wind whispered through the ancient trees.

Amidst this serene natural backdrop, a man and a woman stood face to face, their figures enveloped in traditional Old Valyrian robes, the woman wearing an additional elaborate headdress. The garments were of a soft, beige hue, and they cascaded gracefully down to their feet, the fabric flowing like water as they moved. Yet, it was the sleeves that captured attention most starkly, dipped in a deep crimson that resembled the rich hue of freshly spilled blood. 

A septon, solemn and dignified, stood before them, his voice resonating with ancient wisdom as he recited traditional words in the melodic language of Old Valyrian. His words were both a blessing and a binding, invoking the gods of their ancestors to witness and sanctify the union. His presence added an air of gravity to the intimate affair, a reminder of the tradition and lineage they were honouring.

The man held a fine dark blade of dragonglass, and slowly, almost reverently, he made a cut down the center of the woman's bottom lip. The cut welled with blood instantly, and he tenderly brushed it away with his thumb, using that to draw a symbol on her forehead, between her eyes. The woman returned the gesture and when they were both marked, the man used the same blade to carve a line into his palm, lining it up with a matching one on the woman's. As they entwined fingers, the septon tied an embroidered sash around their clasped hands, reciting the vows of matrimony. 

Blood of two
Joined as one
Ghostly flame
And song of shadows

As the man and woman exchanged their vows in the presence of the solemn priest and the misty mountain landscape, their children stood a little distance away, watched over by a maester who was there to ensure their well-being. The children, however, did not share the same air of reverence that hung over the ceremony. Their young faces bore varying degrees of displeasure, and it was clear that this union had stirred complex emotions within them.

Baela and Rhaena, the twin girls, stood side by side, their identical features accentuating the stark contrast in their expressions. Baela, the older of the two, had a fiery look in her eyes that hinted at resentment and fury. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, and her arms were tightly wrapped around Rhaena, as if she were protecting her younger sister from the world. She glanced towards her father with a mix of anger and betrayal, unable to reconcile the sight of him marrying a woman who was not their mother.

Rhaena, the younger twin, was unable to hide the silent tears that streamed from her melancholy eyes. Her heartache was evident as she watched her father take his vows. The ceremony, in all its beauty and tradition, meant little to her in that moment, for it marked a profound change in her life. Her gaze remained fixed on the ground, and her shoulders trembled with the weight of her emotions.

Jacaerys Velaryon, stood beside them, his expression a blend of sadness and resignation. He had always been the most levelheaded of them all, not quite old enough to understand the complexities of the situation, but resolved to bear it without much external reaction. As if sensing his cousin's inner turmoil, he reached out one hand to grab Baela's, sending out a squeeze of reassurance which she gratefully returned. 

Luke, the youngest of the siblings there, appeared positively distraught. His small frame was wrapped around his older sister's waist, his face buried in her dress. His arms clung to her as though he were seeking refuge from a storm that raged within him. He refused to even glance at the ceremony, his grip bordering on painful, but Daenys bore it without complaint. She understood that this was his way of coping, of finding solace in the embrace of someone who loved him.

Daenys herself knew that she needed to be a pillar of strength for her younger siblings, a blank slate upon which they could project their emotions. As she felt Luke's small, trembling form against her, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of hurt deep within her heart. The memory of Laenor's recent passing still haunted her, and the idea of their mother marrying Daemon so soon seemed almost like a betrayal.

However, if there was one thing about her, Daenys was unwaveringly faithful to her mother, almost to a fault. She would not let herself question her mother's decisions, no matter how much they hurt her. With a soft sigh, she stroked Luke's hair gently, hoping to ease his distress. 

Two hearts as embers
Forged in fourteen fires
A future promised in glass
The stars stand witness
The vow spoken through time
Of darkness and light

After the solemn ceremony came to a close, the couple shared a passionate kiss, sealing their union in the misty mountain air. The affection between them was evident, but it left their children feeling a mixture of discomfort and embarrassment. Simultaneously, the siblings averted their eyes, finding the intimacy of the moment difficult to witness.

Daemon and Rhaenyra, now joined as husband and wife, turned their attention to their children. Rhaenyra, with her kind and inviting smile, extended a gentle hand to her new stepdaughters, Baela and Rhaena. 

"Why don't we all join together for our morning meal?" she suggested, her voice warm and inviting.

The twins didn't return Rhaenyra's smile, their expressions guarded and resentful. They exchanged a glance but remained silent. It was clear that they were not yet ready to fully accept this new figure in their lives, no matter how well-intentioned she might be.

Daemon, nodded at his new wife, his voice firm as he answered on behalf of his daughters. 

"Yes, I think that is a wonderful idea." 

Baela and Rhaena glared at him but eventually at his urging, their defiance gave way to reluctant obedience as they followed him inside. Rhaenyra's own children, who had been observing the situation, didn't express much defiance and trailed after slowly. 

Breakfast unfolded as an awkward and tense affair. The dining hall, adorned with the soft morning light filtering through the misty windows, seemed to reflect the uncertainty and discomfort that filled the room.

Daemon and Rhaenyra made several attempts to engage their children in conversation, offering kind smiles and gentle inquiries about their well-being and interests. However, the atmosphere remained stagnant, with everyone present maintaining a sullen silence.

Daenys, ever the peacemaker, made a valiant effort to bridge the gap between her mother, stepfather, and siblings. She responded to their questions with a pleasant tone, attempting to steer the conversation toward neutral topics that might engage her sisters and brothers. Nonetheless, her attempts were met with cold stares and icy silence from her siblings. They remained resolute in their anger and betrayal, unwilling to entertain the idea of accepting their new family dynamic. Their silent rebellion against their parents' decision hung heavy in the room.

Daenys felt helpless as she tried to please both her mother and her siblings. The weight of her responsibilities as the eldest sibling, the peacemaker, was taking its toll. She longed for the warmth and unity that her family had once known, but it seemed an insurmountable challenge.

The room was once more filled with an uncomfortable silence that seemed to stretch on forever until Rhaenyra cleared her throat, attempting to break the tension.

"So Baela, your father tells me that you are accomplished with the sword?"

Baela looked up from her plate, her eyes flashing with anger but she remained silent.

Rhaenyra continued, undeterred, "And Rhaena, I've heard that you are quite musically gifted. Might we hear you play for us sometime, 

"Father knows nothing about us!" Baela finally snapped. 

Rhaena fixed her gaze on her plate as silent tears welled up in her eyes.

Daemon exchanged a troubled glance with his new wife, reaching out beneath the table to take her hand reassuringly. The rest of the meal continued in icy silence as each of their attempts at conversation went unanswered. Eventually, the children excused themselves, leaving their parents behind to contemplate their displeasure. Only Daenys stopped by her mother as she passed by. 

"Congratulations, Mother," she mumbled softly as she leaned up to kiss her cheek. "I...I am happy...if-if you are happy."

"Oh, my darling girl. I am happy. And it would make me even happier if you...if you didn't hate me for it."

"I don't hate you. I could never hate you, Mother," Daenys turned to Daemon with a stiff nod. "Uh...congratulations to you too, I hope you will be good to Mother."

Daemon had a smirk on his face as if her behaviour amused him. 

"Of course, Princess. Your mother's happiness is my solemn duty now."

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Later that night, when for once Daenys had actually drifted off into a fitful slumber, she was awoken by the loud insistent knocking coming from her door. She jolted awake and listened carefully. The knocking grew louder, making her spring out of bed to open the door before the noise disturbed anyone else. It was probably one of her brothers, as only they would approach her in such a manner when the hour was late. 

She wrenched open the door, a sharp reprimand on her tongue when her words died on her lips. 

There, in the dimly lit hallway, stood Luke, his small frame hunched over, tears streaming down his face. His one hand clasped his mouth, his body shuddering with effort to muffle himself and the other raised to knock on the door again. His normally bright eyes were swollen, and his cheeks were flushed. His dishevelled hair framed his face and it made him look achingly childish. Before Daenys could say a word, he rushed into her chambers, climbing into her bed to curl up without a word. Daenys just stood there for a few moments, frozen in surprise and concern. Eventually, she closed the door and walked towards her silently sobbing brother. Every now and then he'd let out a pitiful whimper or a weak sniffle but otherwise, his cries remained mostly silent. 

"Is...is everything alright? What's wrong?"

Luke did not respond to her gentle probing and Daenys felt near helpless. This was the first time she had seen one of her brothers this distraught. Sure they had expressed their unhappiness and grief to her in the past few months, but they never cried, not in front of her anyways. That was their nature she supposed, her family's way of grieving was private. They all grieved in the dead of the night, with no one to witness the vulnerable ugliness of sorrow. She thought guiltily of the tally marks that ran down her arms and legs and all of a sudden it became painfully crucial that Luke felt better. 

She crawled into bed beside him, pulling the covers over them both. As soon as she did so, Luke clung to her with a desperation that left no doubt about the intensity of his emotional turmoil. He wound his arms tightly around her neck, his legs around her torso, as if he were seeking to merge with her very being. His tears soaked her dress and his shuddering sobs reverberated through her chest as she stroked his hair. 

"What's wrong Luke? What happened?" she pleaded softly. "Shall I wake Mother? Would you like to speak to her? She'll want to know what's wrong."

But as Daenys mentioned their mother, Luke's reaction was immediate and vehement. He violently shook his head, his grip on her tightening as he clung to her even more fiercely. The sound that escaped him was low and keening.

"No, no, no. Don't tell her. Please don't tell her. You can't tell her!"

He nearly choked on his words and Daenys frantically assured him that she wouldn't. 

"But you have to tell me what's wrong okay? You have to tell me so I can help you. So I can fix it for you. Okay, Luke?"

He did not respond to her, but after a while, when his sobs had subsided enough to allow for conversation, he pulled away from her long enough to look her in the eyes. 

Still hiccuping, his voice trembled when he spoke, "Do you think... do you think Mother would have us executed?"

"What?"

"Do you think-"

"No, I heard you! Just...what?"

Daenys was horrified by the question, her eyes widening in shock. She couldn't fathom where such a thought could have come from.

"Would she? She wouldn't, wouldn't she? Or..."

"Why would you think that? Why would you ever think such a terrible thing?" her voice came out harsher than she intended, and she immediately regretted it when she saw Lucerys's face crumple. 

Daenys sighed and gently wiped away his tears, forcing her voice into a soft whisper. 

"I just meant...why would you think like that? She would never do anything like that."

Her brother sniffled, "She'd have us executed 'cause we're bastards."

"What?!"

"I overheard the...the servants talking."

His voice wobbled and Daenys forced herself to be patient as he paused between almost every word. She wanted to shake him and ask him who had said such a traitorous thing to him, but she doubted that would help. 

"Yes, and what did they say, Luke?"

"They-they said that...now that Mother is married to Daemon, they're going to have babies. Real Targaryen-looking babies...like-like you. And then she won't need us anymore."

"Who said that to you? How dare-"

"And-and once Mother has her new babies, she won't love us anymore either. She won't want us around them so that people can't say things about them like they do about us. No-no one likes us. Father didn't like us either. Is it 'cause we're bastards? Are we bastards? Is that why he left? Will Mother make us go away?"

"No. No! She'd never do that! That's not what-"

Daenys felt Luke touch her cheek, and only then did she realize that her tears had escaped her eyes. 

"Oh no, I made you cry," her brother whispered solemnly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you sad."

Daenys shook her head, giving him a small, watery smile, her voice soft and reassuring.

 "No, no, it's not your fault. None of this is your fault. And...you're not why Father left."

"Then why did he leave? Why'd he have to leave us all behind?"

She didn't have the chance to respond to him because just then the door flew open, and their mother marched inside. Luke stiffened against Daenys's side as Rhaenyra walked toward the bed and stood there watching them for a few moments. Eventually, Daenys raised her head to look her mother in the eye and only then did she see her tear-stained face. 

Rhaenyra didn't make a sound of complaint, even though Luke, who was growing bigger with each passing day, was not the small child he once was. She gently lifted him into her arms, cradling him close to her, his head resting on her shoulder as she rocked him in her arms. Her voice was soft and filled with sorrow as she spoke to him, her tears falling onto his dark curls.

"How could you say such a thing? How could you ever think that I would do something so cruel?"

Luke had started crying again, "I'm sorry, Mother."

"You have nothing to apologize for, sweet boy. You did nothing wrong. But you must know, that no matter what anyone says about who you are or are not, you are still my son. You are my son and that makes you a true Targaryen. Nothing in this world could change that."

"You-you promise you won't have us executed," he hiccupped. 

"You are my son, my blood, my heart. I love you and I would never let anyone or anything ever hurt you. That is my promise to you."

Rhaenyra kissed Lucerys's forehead, her love for him shining in her eyes. She held him as his sobs subsided once again and eventually he drifted off in her arms. Before she left to put Luke to bed in his own chambers, she bent down to kiss Daenys on the forehead and ran a gentle hand through her hair. There was a deep sense of gratitude and sadness in her eyes as she looked at her eldest daughter.

"Thank you, sweet girl, for being so patient with us all. I know it hasn't been easy, and I'm sorry for the burdens I have made you carry."

Daenys remained silent, only nodding. As Rhaenyra left the room, she was too tired and preoccupied to notice the way Daenys picked at the skin around her cuticles. She would have noticed the peeling bloody edges that would have reminded her of someone else she once knew. They would have reminded her of someone else's ragged raw fingertips that she had pried apart countless times and smoothed salve over. 

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Over the next few months, an uncomfortable routine of avoidance settled within their household. Baela and Rhaena, withdrew to their chambers, where they spent most of their days together. Their interaction with their father, Daemon, had dwindled to almost nothing. They avoided speaking to him, even refusing to spare him a glance or a single word, no matter how hard he tried to entreat them. Their resentment and anger remained firmly intact.

Despite their chilly relationship with their father, they managed to maintain a semblance of civility with Rhaenyra's children. They weren't openly hostile or rude, but there was a palpable distance between them and their new family members. The twins' sullen and angry disposition seemed to overshadow their interactions. One noticeable exception to their distant demeanour was Baela's relationship with Jacaerys. In his presence, Baela would occasionally allow herself to crack the smallest of smiles, and they seemed to have an unspoken understanding. 

Baela's anger and Rhaena's tears were a constant presence in their lives, and the twins clung to each other as if they were the last lifeline and source of comfort left in the world. Yet, Baela's outbursts of anger and frustration sometimes frightened Rhaena, causing her to seek solace elsewhere. It was during these vulnerable moments that Rhaena began to allow their new stepmother to occasionally become a source of comfort. Rhaenyra, with her gentle and steadfast presence, did everything in her power to support and nurture the fragile bonds within their family.

When the twins were willing, Rhaenyra would sit with them, sharing stories of their mother, Laena, and the cherished moments she had spent with her. She would recount tales of Laena's love and devotion, painting a vivid picture of the mother they had lost. Rhaenyra's stories provided a bittersweet connection to their past and offered some solace to their grieving hearts.

Additionally, Rhaenyra would braid their hair in traditional styles, just as Laena had taught her. It was a tangible way for her to step into this maternal role, a gesture that allowed her to bond with the girls and offer them a sense of comfort and familiarity.

It seemed that forgiveness came more swiftly for the boys than it did for the girls. Lucerys had always been close to his mother, and after that fateful night in Daenys's chambers, their bond grew even stronger. He often followed Rhaenyra around as she went about her daily duties, finding comfort and security in her presence.

Daemon, to his credit, made genuine efforts to involve himself in their lives as well. He frequently accompanied the Velaryon children during their sword lessons, participating actively in their training. Occasionally, he would extend an invitation to Baela to join them, and with enough persuasion from Jace, she would reluctantly take part. 

Daenys on the other hand found solace in the sprawling grounds of Dragonstone, particularly in the winding path that led through the uneven terrain of Dragonmont. Despite the warnings from both Rhaenyra and Daemon, cautioning her about the dangers that lurked within the smoky caverns, Daenys continued to venture deep into them. For her, it was a sanctuary of solitude, a place where she could escape the confines of the castle and the weight of their strained family dynamics. Within the rugged, volcanic landscape, she could be alone with her thoughts, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the eerie silence. 

The labyrinthine tunnels of Dragonmont were a mesmerizing sight, their walls covered in obsidian and dragonglass that gleamed in the dim light. Daenys often found herself spending hours running her fingers across the smooth, glassy surface, captivated by their beauty and the mysterious energy they seemed to exude.

It was said that the tunnels were the lair of the wild, unclaimed dragons that roamed the island. However, in all her explorations, Daenys had never encountered a single one of them, not until that one fateful day. 

That particular day began like any other for Daenys. It had been a year since the passing of Laenor, and though the family dynamic had improved, she still cherished her moments of solitude in Dragonmont. Escaping from her septa after breakfast, she had lost herself in the winding passageways of obsidian.

Time seemed to slip away as she delved deeper into the tunnels, and she hadn't realized how late it had become. The dim light filtering through the dark glassy walls grew progressively fainter, casting eerie shadows around her. Daenys silently cursed herself for not bringing a torch or a source of fire to guide her way.

As she continued further, trying to instinctively feel her way back to the entrance from where she had come from, her heart began to quicken with anxiety. The unfamiliar, pitch-black surroundings were unsettling, and she felt a growing unease in the pit of her stomach. It was then that she heard it – a low, ominous rumbling sound emanating from one of the tunnels to her right.

Daenys froze in her tracks, her breath catching in her throat. The darkness seemed to close in around her, and her mind raced with thoughts of what could be lurking in the shadows. She strained her ears, trying to discern the source of the noise, but all she could hear was the echoing reverberation of that haunting rumble.

Daenys's curiosity was an insatiable force, overriding common sense and drawing her further into the ominous tunnel. Her cautious steps brought her to the tunnel's entrance, and there, bathed in the dim twilight glow reflected off the walls of gleaming dragonglass, she was greeted by a sight that stole her breath away.

Before her was a creature of extraordinary size and beauty. Its colossal form almost filled the vast cavern, its scales shimmering with a mesmerizing brilliance. Each scale glinted like molten silver in the soft, ethereal light, giving the dragon an otherworldly quality that left Daenys spellbound. Even in slumber, the dragon appeared formidable, its powerful muscles evident beneath the smooth, silvery skin. Its wings, folded tightly against its body, were adorned with a network of delicate veins and membranous skin. Its head was crowned with a series of elegant, curving horns, and its scales overlapped like the finest armour. 

As Daenys stood there, captivated by the magnificence of the sleeping creature, she held her breath, fearful of disturbing the great beast. Her heart raced, and her footsteps were as silent as a whisper as she moved closer.

Then, in an unfortunate stumble, Daenys lost her balance, and the sound of her fall reverberated through the cavern. There was a sudden, powerful stir and Daenys found herself face to face with those brilliant molten silver eyes, which now regarded her intensely. 

When the dragon slowly opened its colossal mouth, her heart raced as she braced herself for what seemed an inevitable fate, a fiery end as foretold in the traditional way of her family. "Fire and Blood" and all. But even when faced with the grimness of the situation, she found herself not particularly afraid. It was as if time had slowed to a crawl, and she felt a strange sense of acceptance. 

Perhaps she might see her father after all, and then she'd finally be able to speak freely to someone. 

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A/N: So sorry I've been kinda dead lately. I've been really sick these past 2 weeks and school is just getting busier rip. Also thank you all for the lovely birthday wishes 💙💙💙 I love and appreciate all of you so so much, thank you for the wonderful words of encouragement and support. As always, would love to hear what you think <3