Rhysaenya was not the same anymore.

How her life had changed in the span of a few hours. Turning nine, she had not expected to have such a responsibility levied at her. Should she not be allowed a few more years of childhood before learning of such a thing? Or should she not have been raised to the expectation from the start?

All she'd ever known of her parents were their visits, their histories. She didn't really remember her brothers or what it had been like to be at the Phoenixfort. She'd never seen the phoenix, that was certain. Her earliest memories were all of this castle, of afternoons with Helaena and mornings listening to Aegon talk and talk while Aemond sulked about one thing or another. She even knew and remembered Daeron more than she remembered Eilryd or Arrwyth. Moyric, she wasn't sure she ever met, though he was only four years older than her.

She wanted to disappear from the world, to forget any of this had happened. How could she suddenly have a dragon? How could she suddenly see Aegon or Aemond as potential husbands? How could she envision a future where she was Queen? She only wanted to play with Helaena. That was all, that was all...

Thinking of Helaena made her realize the one thing that would make her feel better. Helaena always had a way with words, and was one to offer helpful distractions. Rhysaenya did not bother to follow Karrhys when they returned to the castle– whatever other business he was up to, she didn't wish to know. Likely arranging it all with the Queen. Gods, that woman scared her as much as her parents did.

One thing would never change, in the midst of all this. Helaena. Dragon or not, married or not, Rhysaenya had had a constant companion in the years that she had lived here. She'd never understood or been understood better by anyone else, though she'd grown alongside Helaena's brothers all the same.

Things were simply different with them. Rhysaenya didn't see what those boys found as motivations in life, what they even wanted from the world. She could remember them being obnoxious more than she could ever remember warmth from her mother or anything but a stern or sinister look from her father. This had been the plan all along, while she was naively reared alongside boys meant to become her husband.

Aegon was the one she comprehended the least. He was four years older than her, and this made him so different she didn't even wish to know what went on in his mind. He was always talking about girls, always picking on Aemond, never caring for lessons in history or Valyrian. He didn't visit Helaena, so Rhysaenya didn't see him as often. Whenever she did, however, he knew how to poke every last nerve. He seemed to think himself a man already, and no part of her desired to change him nor elevate herself to his supposed level. These days, he was with friends more and more, which meant he left Aemond alone.

Aemond, perhaps she understood more. He was only a year older than her, but he obsessed over dragons to an extent she had never related to. He always wanted to be the best at everything. He was a welcome competitor for her, the one who could run the longest at her side. But he never cared who he belittled to give himself an advantage– sometimes he frustrated her, too. What she liked about him was that he visited Helaena and was clever. In the end, however, he was in his own world wishing to be a fearsome knight and dragonrider. He wasn't the most talkative with her.

Her favorite of the boys was Daeron. He liked to read as much as she did and still knew how to run around when the time called for it. If there was one she would have liked to marry, it would have been him, three years younger than her and the only one who was always respectful. He spent the most time with Helaena, which meant she saw him each time she went to see her dear friend. Word had it that Daeron would not live in the castle for much longer. When he turned twelve, he'd be sent to Oldtown to be a squire for his mother's cousin, the future Lord Hightower. His parents must have thought he could benefit from his instruction, but she didn't see why that had to happen so far away.

In all honesty, Rhysaenya didn't exactly like Daeron and Helaena's parents, either. King Viserys was busy and did not come by to see what his children were up to— he seemed to always expect them to come to him. How a child would figure this out without being told, she didn't comprehend. They did not seem to care for seeking him out, either. He showed clear favoritism toward Rhaenyra, a bit Helaena, and appeared indifferent to the others. From what she'd seen, he didn't much interact with his sons. At best, he'd talk history with Daeron, the only one willing to listen.

The Queen should have been someone she could trust, given she'd somewhat raised her in her mother's absence, but Rhysaenya always felt an uncomfortable air enter the room whenever Queen Alicent arrived. The way she spoke to Helaena was fine on the surface, but Rhysaenya detected undertones of confusion and judgment with Helaena's abnormal nature. Rhysaenya didn't see why it was so difficult to try and understand her instead of expecting her to speak plainly. Alicent coddled Daeron and Aemond while berating Aegon for every small thing— some of which didn't always make sense. To Rhysaenya, it warned of convincing Aemond he was always right and showing Aegon nothing he did would be enough. Daeron would leave before such tricks could really fester in his mind.

Then there was the rest of the family– Rhaenyra, her husband Ser Laenor Velaryon, and her sons Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey. Rhysaenya hardly saw the Princess aside from when she'd walk her sons to their rooms. The boys were younger and not often around for her to play with. Their mother seemed gentle enough, sometimes asking Rhysaenya about her day. Even Ser Laenor sometimes made conversation. But there was a distance nevertheless, a sort of gap that could not be filled between them. She wondered if they were wary of her because of her parents. Now that she knew the depths of their plotting, she would not be surprised if they mistrusted her. Or, perhaps, Rhaenyra associated her with Alicent the same way she did those new children she bore for her father. From what Rhysaenya had heard, Alicent had been the most unkind stepmother though Rhaenyra had been so little and in need of a mother. Before Daeron was born, it was said Alicent hoped Rhaenyra would be betrothed to Aegon. Apparently, King Viserys had declined.

"I don't think I will ever understand the difference," said Helaena, running her fingers carefully through Rhysaenya's hair once she'd found her. Daeron was by the window reading, always so lost in books. "Some creatures have a hard shell, others soft. Some people can endure trials and show no injury, while others break on the first push."

"I think we are all made that way for a reason," surmised Rhysaenya, closing her eyes and enjoying the feeling of Helaena's delicate touch. It was warmer than anything her mother or father had ever managed. "We all serve a purpose. The crabs needed to be protected from the birds and so they have that shell. The Velaryons had no dragons and no phoenix and so they are very good at enduring injuries."

Helaena nodded in agreement. "That is why Moyric was meant to go to them."

"Well, I think my mother sent Moyric to serve Lord Corlys because she hates bastards. And because his mother was from Driftmark."

"Yes," said Helaena, "because her hard shell does not permit her to care. She is suited for other purposes, same as your father. I believe his shell is the hardest I've seen, though Aemond admires him so. Do you know what Moyric's shell is like?"

"No, I can't remember meeting him. I suppose you are right, my mother has a hard shell. That is why she always wants things to be done a certain way. And my father, well..." It still felt strange to call him her father now that she knew he wasn't. "Of course Aemond would admire him for being a hard-shell. What do you think your shell is like?"

Helaena hummed. "Mine is both. Hard on the outside with softness inside. I don't wish to be approached and my outer shell wards people away. My inner shell allows people in... people like you. Perhaps it means I have many choices, though not all the authority. I see things, sometimes, things I don't understand. Images I can often see clearly as if they were happening right in front of me. I choose what I do with the images, but I don't choose what I see."

Rhysaenya tilted her head, but straightened up quickly to ensure her braids were not ruined. "And mine?"

"You have a broken shell," said Helaena. "You endure things but you near a point where you do not wish to. That is why you speak to me more of your parents each year. Yet, you still did not say what they tell you when they come."

She bit her lip, shrugging, "They said not to." She didn't want to imagine the fallout of telling anyone what had been discussed this last day. She could hardly wrap her mind around it herself– to involve another was to invite their wrath and further confusion.

"And so you have a choice. It is good to have a choice."

"It doesn't always feel so. I wish I didn't have to choose, that things could be simple. I didn't ask for this anger or this... apparent burden. I wish I was born differently."

"And yet if you were born differently, you could be in another place. Another creature, another shell, another battle. I told you that you'd receive the flames you didn't ask for. It will always happen."

Rhysaenya did remember her saying that. She noticed how Daeron's eyes flickered up to them in recollection. "Well," admitted Rhysaenya, "I did claim Skyfall today." She supposed that could be one interpretation of Helaena's prediction– she had so many, it was difficult to keep track of. Some revelations were more literal than others; Rhysaenya had trouble knowing the difference.

Daeron's brows rose. "That's wonderful news. Your parents must be quite pleased." You have no idea how pleased they are, Daeron. "Once Tessarion is large enough for me to ride, we could fly together."

"I would like that very much," she said. She could feel how excited Helaena was from how rapidly she continued to braid– this meant the girls could disappear into the sky for hours together. Once Rhysaenya had the courage to ride Skyfall... soon, it would have to be.

Being with Helaena had indeed improved her mood. Still, the nagging in her mind about these new tasks would not leave her. She'd left her friend with the promise of catching a spider for her, and finding a new book for Daeron.

She'd meant to return to her rooms, but had taken a detour into the gardens when she saw her parents making for the guest wing, accompanied by Lord Jasper Wylde. She didn't quite like that man, either. The people in the castle called him 'Ironrod' for his unwavering character when it came to laws, though many whispered the sobriquet had another meaning altogether, one she didn't fully understand.

The gardens were another place where she could find peace, when in need of it. She sometimes crawled into the plants to nap in the warm sun or even just to find worms for the birds. No one could touch her there, no one could bother her. The only ones allowed in that space with her were Helaena and Daeron, and they never pushed boundaries.

She heard footsteps the closer she got to an archway between the rose garden and the lines of lilies, where the spiders liked to make their webs between thorns. She stopped, surprised to see Aegon walking toward her with his hands tucked behind his back.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, annoyed that he might be following her. Should he not still be at the Dragonpit? How long had it been since she'd been there? How many hours had her parents been scheming while she was here trying to forget it all?

He made a face, one that screamed of both arrogance and insult. As though he wanted to act pompous but was shocked that she spoke up. "I'm the Prince. This is my family's castle. Why can't I be here?"

"You're never in the garden. I come here every day and you are never here."

He shrugged, as if it was so simple to disrupt routine. One thing she may have gotten from her parents was their insistence on often doing the same things at the same time. Aegon was too free and fluid, always doing whatever he pleased. Such was the privilege of being the Prince, of being a boy. "I changed my mind. What does it matter to you, Lady Rhysaenya? Shouldn't you be with your parents?"

She sighed, trying to contain her frustration at his intrusion. "I suppose it doesn't. I'll go now, I'm looking for a spider to give to Helaena."

He continued after her, much to her annoyance. "Doesn't it scare you? Most girls dislike those creatures. Helaena is odd, but you are not."

"Most girls see worse each month when they bleed. It's not uncommon for them to like creatures such as those, it doesn't make your sister odd." She remembered her parents' plan, and feared continuing the conversation for too long. Feared getting upset again and having her father give her a clout on the ear. "I really ought to keep going."

"You are going already," said Aegon smartly. "I'm not stopping you." Sometimes he thought himself so clever, and it made her roll her eyes.

"You're inhibiting my progress," she said, hoping he'd leave and find her insufferable and rude even just for the moment. Not forever, lest her parents reprimand her, but only for the while it would take for him not to bother her today of all days, when it had already been too difficult to cope with her new existence. "I have a mission."

"A mission not ruined by my presence. Do you not like me?" He wiggled his eyebrows. "You oft hit me, perhaps you loathe me." How dare he say it as though it was a game? As though she took these things lightly?

She scowled, "I hardly know you. The times I do see or hear you, you're teasing Aemond. You never visit Helaena. I get angry and react... defend people. I wish I were calm like Daeron, but I am not." For the sake of being polite, "I don't mean to let my anger get the best of me. I know I should not harm you. I wish I could be as nice as Daeron."

Aegon smirked. "Nice? He is quiet and sullen. You, on the other hand, I always hear talking in Helaena's room– you have life in you the way my brother only does when his nose is in a book."

Gods, he made it so easy for her to want to snap at him that he ought not insult his siblings so. "If you hear me, why don't you visit her?"

"Because I don't care what girls have to talk about."

"That's not true. You talk all the time with anyone who will listen. Besides, you don't hold anything against girls– I heard it said that you always entertain girls in your chambers. Clearly you like them."

His cheeks turned pink. "I don't know where you've heard that, but it's a lie."

She shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Now, I need to find a spider."

He gestured to the bottom of a rosebush. "Like that one?"

She whipped her head toward a spiderweb she hadn't seen, a shimmering green spider in the center, its legs black with red tips. She knelt quickly, catching it in her palm. "Perfect," she said, brushing past him and returning to the castle. "Thank you."

He chased after her– would he not take the hint to let her be? She was not liking him for a husband, he seemed so dense. "I have a question for you."

"I don't know the answer," said Rhysaenya, starting to skip. Gods, if her parents were to pass by, they'd surely use this as an opportunity to exert their will. "You'll need to ask someone else."

He caught her arm, halting her. "You know the rumors about Jace, Luke, and Joff being bastards? You Ignividosi know all about bastards, don't you? Why do they call it the 'House Built by Bastards?'"

She pulled away, brows furrowed judgmentally. She couldn't believe such a question– was it simply an excuse to speak with her or did he really not pay any attention to his septa? "Don't you read? How don't you know why they call it that? Everyone knows that story. You're the King's eldest son, you're not supposed to be dull."

This seemed to do more than her minutes of avoiding the conversation. Aegon looked confused, then mildly offended. "I do read! But those things aren't written about."

Rhysaenya huffed, feeling that she had to educate him. "Caytell Ignividus was one of the Three Brothers who aided in the Conquest. While Aniiro did his duty and married after bending the knee to Aegon, and Agrazos was believed to have been in love with Rhaenys and as such never wed— he even went to Driftmark to protect Jaehaerys and Alysanne personally when Visenya crowned Maegor— Caytell was busy fathering bastards."

Aegon made a face that suggested he didn't know much about that. Rhysaenya sighed and continued, "He had fathered six by the beginning of the Dornish War and kept at it after that. House Ignividus hardly had people in it at the time and Lord Aniiro permitted him to bring his bastards and their mothers to the Phoenixfort. The mothers were paid to be servants and the boys— all his bastards were boys, with the Ignividus curse— trained to be soldiers for our house. Our battle prowess was always great, but with fresh blood constantly being brought, it was as if Caytell alone was replenishing the men lost in the Conquest. He bolstered the strength of our house. So they called it the 'House Built by Bastards.'"

"Where are all these bastards, then?" asked Aegon. "I've never heard of anyone with the surname 'Phoenix.'"

"They weren't given that name. Aniiro tried to pretend it wasn't an insult, he said the Ignividus line values rebirth in all its forms, and called it a way of saving our line from extinction. Deep down, Aniiro hated the bastards. His grandson Rhystli— son of Sytli and Rhysilla Ignividus— inherited the seat at Phoenixfort and treated with Jaehaerys after he wed Kaella Tyrell and gave Jaehaerys a piece of Caytell's bastards to protect his castle, named knights to defend the Targaryen family. The most successful bastards were legitimized under the Ignividus name, always to be taken care of. They could wed girls from smaller houses and continue to father soldiers— though, if they had daughters, they'd be servants. Many of the other bastards were lost hunting Elissa Farman. New bastards of our house not stemming from Caytell's line, rather, the ruling line, are given the surname Caytell. My brother Moyric is Moyric Caytell."

Aegon regarded her curiously. "You know the entirety of your family's history as if you were reading it from a book."

"It's all my parents talk about when they visit me," muttered Rhysaenya, beginning to walk away again. "I've had it memorized for as long as memory has served me."

"No wonder Aemond fancies you," said Aegon. "You've practically stolen a maester's mind."

She scrunched up her nose, both from his statement and the fact he rushed to catch up to her. "Aemond does not fancy me."

"He does. I heard him say so. He thinks you are pretty."

"I am pretty," said Rhysaenya, careful to stop herself from crushing the spider. "But him observing that doesn't mean he fancies me."

"Well, he does. I'd watch out for him if I were you, he may try to kiss you one of these days if you're not careful."

She replied honestly, unable to imagine herself already beginning any sort of relationship with these boys that she was meant to one day marry. Not even Aemond, who she liked more than Aegon. "I'll hit him in his nose if he tries. And you ought to remember that I hit hard. Why are you even telling me this?"

"Wondered how you'd find it. Wondered if you liked him, too."

"I don't know if I like anyone. I haven't thought about it." She tried to duck down a different hallway, but he persisted. She was growing increasingly frustrated, "Stop following me, Aegon!"

He grinned. "Does it bother you, my lady? A simple question and statement have incited your ire."

"Nothing is simple with you, Aegon, all you do is tease people," she said sharply, lowering her voice as they made it to the first open corridor, a pair of knights passing close by. "Lo kesā pergo melis nyke nūmāzma ra, rȳ minim ȳdragon Valyrio Eglie. Konīr issi auri ovuq." (T: If you will continue badgering me about things, at least speak High Valyrian. There are ears everywhere.)

This time, he paused to think longer, then frowned, and stopped in his tracks. With great difficulty, he said, "Nyke daor...er...drag—ȳdragon— Valyrio Eglie... hen—hae— ao." (T: I cannot speak High Valyrian like you.)

She stared at him in disbelief then began to stride away, Aegon no longer following. As she placed more distance between them, her skin began to tingle. She wasn't sure why. It confused her to think of the interaction— had she been amused by it? She could have sprinted away and he wouldn't have followed. Was Aegon more interesting than she cared to admit? Did it intrigue her that he couldn't speak High Valyrian?

The tingle made her question her fear. Was she so afraid of her parents' ideas that she meant to avoid Aegon (and subsequently Aemond) for the rest of their lives? Was she afraid that speaking to him meant she might start to like his company? Was she afraid that befriending Aegon could cause problems with Aemond, who at present she got along with fine?

The fire she did not want rolled toward her, tongues extended like fingers and dragging her toward the inevitable.