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Chapter Text

Her mother smells of honey and old parchment with a hint of something citrusy, brown hair falling in waves across her back much unlike Daenora’s own pin-straight white hair.

She’s young, incredibly so that during the first few weeks of Daenora’s consciousness returning to her as a toddler, she’d worried that her mother might have been coerced into giving birth to so many children at such a young age (far, far too young in her opinion), but then she learned about her new life, about this new world and how it treats its women, of the bloodiness of it and the inescapable brutality.

So she tries her best to be a good daughter, rarely crying and giving only the brightest smiles whenever Alicent Hightower is free from her Queenly duties to come and visit her children.

And it’s awkward at first, being a child again and having to acknowledge this girl-woman as her mother, someone barely older than Daenora when she died in her old life, but she tries—no, not try, she does. Does her best to accept the world she’s in, does her best to understand the distance her new mother keeps between herself and her children, does her best to ignore the absence of a father she’s only met three times in her life.

When she speaks, her first words are mama.

Daenora doesn’t think she’s ever seen her mother look so surprised, something warm bleeding into her face as she sits next to Daenora on the cushions and asks her to repeat what she just said.

So she smiles, all gums and baby teeth yet to grow, and says, “Mama.”

It’s the first time Alicent holds her like she actually wants to.

Her older sister is all sharp eyes and pursed lips, gazing down at her with an emotion she can hardly read. It feels almost predatory, much like the dragons her new family are so fond of putting up as decorations all over the nursery.

Daenora thinks she’s beautiful.

Rhaenyra doesn’t visit often, and when she does, it’s usually when Daenora’s mother is absent. Her sister sits on the couch, watching her and her siblings like they’re puzzles she hasn’t quite yet solved. Oftentimes, though, she passes by with a quick glance as if to check if they’re still alive before leaving abruptly.

She thinks her sister might care for them, even if she shows it in a stilted way. Leaving gifts and children’s toys each time she visits, indulging Daenora’s little pleas for her to stay a little longer, little acts of silent care that tell much more than her words and looks do.

When Daenora asks Rhaenyra to read her a book about dragons, she learns that dragons are, in fact, real in this world and that her family is known to be the last living riders of said beasts.

Daenora gazes at her in awe when Rhaenyra tells her of Syrax, fondness lacing her tone, and it is first time her sister’s cold exterior melts.

“Dany,” Helaena calls, slipping from her bed and sneaking into hers. Daenora finds her sister’s hands and clasps theirs together, laying on their sides and facing each other, one lucid and one dazed. “I had a dream about you.”

She hums, running a thumb over the back of Helaena’s hand. “Was it a good dream?”

Her sister pauses, looking down their hands as if in thought before nodding her head. “It was… I think.”

Daenora smiles, encouraging and so full of love for her precious sister. Her twin. Her other half. Helaena is all mumbled words and faraway eyes that see too much yet too little all at once, one foot in this world and one foot in another. She’s like a walking dreamer, head in the clouds with nary a thought to the world around her.

Lately, she’s found a hobby in watching and collecting the bugs around the castle, a rare excited smile on her lips whenever she shows Daenora her little finds. Daenora isn’t much for insects, but if it makes Helaena happy, she’ll gladly indulge her sister’s interests.

Anything for those she loves.

“Will you tell me more about this dream?” she prompts.

Her sister hums for a few seconds, contemplating her decision before ultimately shaking her head. “If I tell you, it won’t happen.”

There it is again, strange cryptic words that makes Daenora wonder if there’s something more to dreams in this world than it appears. But she respects Helaena’s decision not to tell her, so she huddles deeper into the covers and eyes her mischievously.

“Alright, then how about I tell you about my dream instead?”

Helaena blinks, coming to attention in her own way, hands tightening around her own as if she’s only now realizing the contact. “Your dream… tell me.”

“Hm, it was about mother and our sister. They were laughing together like friends and…” she continued her story, occasionally making stuff up on the spot to make it more interesting.

The slackening of Helaena’s hands in hers was the only indication that her sister had fallen asleep.

She doesn’t know when she stopped being Daenora and started being Dany. Perhaps it was when Aegon, all clumsy tongue and stilted pronunciations, gave her that nickname to make it easier to say. Or perhaps when Rhaenyra began referring to her as Dany, too, with her younger siblings following soon after.

“Dany, can I sleep in your bed tonight?”

Aegon peers from the ajar door, the light from the hallway’s torches casting his hair in a fiery glow. With an indulgent smile, she sits up and pats the side of her bed in invitation.

He scurries past the door, bare feet pitter pattering on the stone floor, and flops into her goose featherbed in a way that would’ve had their Septa scandalized at his lack of grace. Dany pulls the covers over them, letting her brother burrow his way to her side, cold toes pressing against the warmth of her calves and arms circling around her waist.

“Nightmare again?” she asks, turning to her side so she can slide her fingers across his silvery gold hair in a way she knows he finds soothing.

“Yeah, something bad,” he mumbles, curling his body into her as his hands found purchase on the back of her night shift.

“That’s the second time this week.” A worrying amount, considering that one nightmare in itself was a coincidence, two was a pattern. Aegon often found his way to her bed whenever he found himself plagued by nightmares, something he once confessed made him feel safer. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He shakes his head.

“Alright,” she concedes, still keeping her motions against his hair, “But if you’re ready to tell someone about it, I’m always here to listen.”

Aegon is quiet for a few moments, only the sound of the logs crackling in the hearth to be heard, before he speaks up, voice nearly muffled with the way he’s hidden his face in the crook of her neck. “Alright.”

“And if your nightmares return, just tell them I will feed them to a dragon. That’ll shut them up,” Dany jokes, attempting to lighten the mood lest they fall asleep with heavy hearts.

She feels him smile against her skin. “You don’t even have a dragon.”

Huffing, she teasingly tugs at his hair, light enough that she knows it won’t cause him any pain. “I’m going to get one someday, just you wait.”

“Hm, if you say so.”

“I do say so. In fact, I will even claim a large dragon, larger than Sunfyre, just to rub it in your face, then I’ll be the best dragonrider in history,” Dany says, copying their grandfather’s haughty tone and cracking a smile when she feels Aegon’s shoulders shake with mirth.

“You can’t even ride a horse,” he teases, and something in her warms when she notes that the last vestiges of weariness the nightmare caused are gone.

“I will someday.” She can feel him start to loosen up against her, slowly being lulled to sleep by the hand in his hair, so she quickly ends the conversation. Staying up late is bad for growing children, and the irony isn’t lost to her, seeing as she’s younger than Aegon. “Goodnight, Aegon.”

“G’night, Dany.”

She leans to press a kiss at the top of his head. “Sweet dreams.”

Aemond’s tiny little giggles sound from behind her. Dany turns her head and places a finger on her lips in a shushing manner, but she can’t quite keep the smile off her face, infectious and all too mischievous that her little brother can scarcely be blamed for nearly blowing their cover.

“Hush, Aemond, or the servants will catch us,” she warns, a teasing grin directed at him.

He nods his head, face turning serious for a moment before it cracks into a wide beam. Dany pulls him by their joined hands, sticking close to the walls and ducking in alcoves whenever they hear the telltale sound of armor clinking together.

“Is he gone?” Aemond whispers, leaning against her from where they’re standing only a hairsbreadth away from each other in an enclosed little nook to hide from a passing guard.

She peaks from their hiding spot and sees that the coast is clear. Turning to him with a twinkle in her eye, she wordlessly grabs his hand and resumes their sneaking.

They smell it before they see it. Fresh bread and the sweet scent of melted sugar permeating the air leading to the kitchens, something tart and tangy mixing with the wind coming from the open windows. Aemond’s excitement is visible from the way his hand tightens around hers, nearly bouncing with every step they take closer and closer to the doors leading to the kitchens.

“Dany,” he whines, “Hurry up.”

“Patience, brother.” She squeezes his hand assuringly, turning around and sending him a wink that has him muffling giggles against his hand. The sound of it warms her heart.

She takes a moment to check if the coast is clear before running to the open doors of the kitchen, eyes zeroing in on the platter of lemon cakes and urging Aemond to go faster with his little legs. They drop down beneath the table where the lemon cakes are, breathless and cheeks red from exhilaration at having gone so far without getting caught.

“You watch for anyone passing by, I’ll grab the cakes, and then we’ll make a run for it,” Dany tells him, resisting the urge to pinch his cheeks when he nods solemnly at her, eyes darting around and looking for any perceived threat to their prize.

They dart around corners, stuffing their mouths full of lemon cakes at every stop they make behind armors and tapestries, smiling to themselves at their perceived bout of mischief.

When they reach the safety of Dany’s room, Aemond lets out a triumphant little laugh, still not quite letting go of her hand despite having no need to. But Dany isn’t one to complain, she loves giving her siblings the affection they deserve, the affection they’ve been so deprived of growing up. She’s all too willing to step up and fill the gaps within them, never shying away from holding them in her arms and pressing kisses to their cheeks and foreheads. Blatant displays of affection, family or not, seem to be disapproved in this world, but the sky would sooner fall before Dany lets something as silly as medieval propriety stop her.

After the cakes have been eaten and the sugar has settled within their stomachs, she takes out an embroidered handkerchief and wipes at the crumbs beside Aemond’s mouth. He grumbles but stays still long enough for her to finish cleaning his face up.

She shakes the crumbs off the handkerchief, the little red dragon embroidered by the corner stark against the black linen. Her septa had praised Dany for it, saying she has a talent for embroidery, but she’s really just got a cheat code in the form of memories from her old life.

Standing up straight, she offers the piece of cloth to her brother, who’s perked up at the sudden gesture. “As thanks for being such a brave lookout, my good ser, I shall give you my favor so that it might guide you on your future endeavors.”

He grins before he remembers himself, schooling his face into a solemn one as he accepts the proffered favor. “I’ll take good care of it, Dan—er, my lady!”

Aemond looks pleased as he attempts to tie the favor to his wrist, but soon he pouts when his short clumsy fingers fail to tie a knot single-handedly. Dany steps up, wordlessly taking the handkerchief from him and tying it in a neat double knot into his wrist. “There. Now everyone will know how brave you were!”

There’s a shy smile tugging at her little brother’s lips as he gazes down at the embroidery. “…Dany?”

“Yes, brother?”

He fiddles with the knot. “Do you think I will be a good knight?”

She steps forward placing both hands on his cheeks to force him to meet her eyes. Amethyst and purple, eye colors that can hardly be distinguished from anyone outside their family, but Dany knows each fleck and hue within her family’s eyes like the back of her hand.

“You will be the best one yet,” she tells him, and the sheer delight that lights up his eyes is infectious.

Lucerys’ first word, much to Rhaenyra’s disappointment and Aegon’s delight, is Dany.

Her sister lets her hold her son with her tiny little noodle arms, marveling at her nephew and cooing over how adorable he is.

“Just like Daeron,” she tells her mother later that day, feeling Alicent’s soft hands against her hair as she brushed it to prepare for bed.

Her mother has never been so keen on affection, always keeping her distance and ever so unsure of her actions when it comes to the children she birthed far too early in her life. It’s the little things, Dany reminds herself, the way her mother sits with Helaena and listens to her sister’s little rambles about her insects, the way she comforts Aemond’s insecurities about his dragon egg remaining unhatched, the way she tries for Aegon, even when it’s clear that the attempts to bond are clumsy.

It’s the way she’s here now, sitting behind Dany and brushing through her long pale hair even though there are servants much better suited to do it.

Her mother’s face takes on that pinched look, a mixture of nostalgia and something Dany can’t quite put a name to, whenever she mentions Rhaenyra.

“Yes, Prince Lucerys and Daeron are quite close in age, aren’t they?” her mother says, almost absentmindedly.

She hums. “Perhaps… perhaps we can put their nurseries closer together?”

Alicent’s hand stops.

“Daeron must be lonely, not having anyone with him in the nursery like I did with Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond.”

Her mother tentatively resumes brushing her hair, but it’s stilted, as if doing so is only an afterthought in her mind. “It might not be a good idea, sweet girl. Rhaenyra’s sons…”

And Dany knows. They all know it, but she isn’t one to judge a person harshly just for the status of their birth. She has met Ser Laenor Velaryon and it only took one hour with the man for her to conclude that his preferences don’t lie with the opposite sex. Her sister has done nothing wrong except find her own pleasure, and if the world is against that? Then Dany is against the world.

“They’re nice boys, mama.” She never quite grew out of calling her mother that. She thinks it makes Alicent glad, hearing such a sweet endearment for her. Her mother deserves to be happy, and Dany will do everything she can to make sure she remains so. “Please? It’s so tiring to walk to the other side of the keep just to visit my brother and nephews.”

Her mother dithers for a few moments before relenting. “I shall speak to your father about it.”

“And my sister too?” she asks, a hopeful note in her voice. The animosity between the princess and the queen hasn’t been lost to her, and Dany has always wondered how it could have happened, especially if rumors are to be believed that they were once close friends. It would be nice to have them reconcile.

“Perhaps some other time, when it truly matters,” her mother sighs, successfully dodging her attempt to make them talk.

Dany nods and lets the topic go. There will be more time in the future for her to unravel that particular minefield that is her mother and her sister’s relationship. In the meantime, she’ll do her best to steer them away from self destruction before they can make up.

“Will you watch Aegon train in the yards tomorrow with me, mama? He’s been so excited for his lessons, it’s all he could ever talk about.”

Alicent smiles, much less strained and much more genuine. “Of course, sweetling.”

Aegon’s wide-eyed look of shock at their mother’s presence in the training yards the next day soon turns into a delighted one. Face flushed with happiness as he dutifully listened to Ser Criston’s teachings.

And when Dany peeks at her mother, she finds her watching Aegon below with a peaceful look, no servants to hound her attention and no nobles to gossip at any perceived weakness. Just them with the rest of the world fading away. Dany smiles and reaches a hand out to hold her mother’s hand. A brief, almost surprised, glance is directed toward her before her tiny hand is squeezed reassuringly.

They stand by the balcony and watch as Aegon learns how to wield a sword, speaking about Dany’s lessons and her own siblings, with Dany occasionally giggling whenever Aegon drops his wooden sword.

Alicent doesn’t pick at her nails even once.

Chapter Text

“She’s so strange. Why can’t she be more like you?”

Dany has never looked at anyone with such disappointment before. He wilts beneath her stare, looking away with a petulant frown.

“Aegon,” she chides, sighing softly and taking his hand. “Helaena isn’t strange.”

“But she is! All she does is play with her creepy insects and–and she even ignores you sometimes,” he glares, tightening his hold on her hand and pointedly not meeting her eyes, lest he be faced with that same disappointed face again.

She pulls him by the hand to a nearby seat. He readily comes, still unable to muster the courage to look her way. Dany feels that familiar warmth ebbing in her chest, her momentary disappointment with him fading away and replaced by an urge to pinch his cheeks. She refrains from doing so only because Aegon would be upset by it, claiming he’s not a child and that he’s older so she should stop coddling him. It amuses her as much as it saddens her, because it’s a sign that he’s growing up.

“Aegon, look at me.”

With barely hidden trepidation, he cranes his neck to her direction and meets her eyes sullenly. Smiling to show that she isn’t displeased anymore, Dany reaches out a hand and ruffles his pale hair, snickering at his outraged squawk as he attempts to lean away from her hand.

He pauses at her laugh, peering at her with wide violet eyes.

“Are you not angry anymore?” he asks, his eyes suddenly trained on the ground and palms clammy in her hold.

“No, I was never angry, brother. Just a little disappointed.”

If possible, he seems to shrink further into himself at her words. Dany smiles sadly at his reaction, knowing how much he hates feeling like he’s let anyone down. It makes her heart hurt, but she needs to be honest with him and teach him that words have power. She can’t coddle him and expect him to learn by it. As royalties, they’re expected to behave in a certain way. Their words hold weight, so they should think before saying anything that could potentially hurt someone, regardless of their station.

“Helaena isn’t like us, and that’s alright. People are inherently different. Just because someone doesn’t act the way you or I do doesn’t mean they deserve to be called weird or strange.” Dany reaches out to smooth her fingers over his mussed up hair, knowing how comforting he finds such a gesture. “How would you like it if someone called you strange for liking, say, apple pies?”

“That’s ridiculous. Why would I be strange for liking apple pies?” he tells her, brows furrowed and an indignant look in his eyes.

She grins and rubs her thumb between his brows to smooth them out. “Exactly. Do you see my point then? Why would Helaena be strange for liking bugs and insects? There are certain branches in the citadel that specialize in studying them, you know. Would you call those maesters strange for it?”

Aegon’s mouth twists into something she could almost call grumpy, likely understanding the truth in her words but still petulant at having been scolded. It’s alright, she lets him take time to stew in his own thoughts.

“But Helaena is…” he trails off, a thoughtful knit to his brows. Dany patiently waits for him to formulate whatever is running through his mind. “Helaena ignores you when you’re speaking to her.”

He turns his head to her like he’s asking for validation, and because she can’t help it, she raises her hand and pinches his cheek.

“Ow! What was that for?” Aegon pouts, rubbing at the spot she pinched. Ah, her dramatic brother. It was only a light pinch.

“For being silly,” she tells him, fighting the urge to giggle at the expression of betrayal he has. “I don’t mind Helaena ignoring me when she’s preoccupied. You ignore me too when you’re busy training with your sword, but I don’t get mad at you for it, do I?”

His cheeks flare pink at that, staring at his shoes like it’ll somehow reveal to him the answers to win this argument. It’s too bad for him that Dany will argue her way until she gets past his skull. She won’t allow her siblings to be divided by such a childish issue like difference in interests.

She expected him to say more, maybe argue about his own views. What she didn’t expect him to do was sigh, reaching out to link his arm with hers and lean against her so that his head is resting on her shoulder. Dany fights the urge to tease him about it, to parrot his own words back to him about him being the older one so she should be the one relying on him, not the other way around.

“I suppose you are right…” he mutters, a thoughtful frown on his cherubic face.

With a relieved hum, she rests her own head on top of his. “I’m always right.”

“You are very funny, Dany. You may yet replace the court jester.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I have serious competition for that position, and he’s sitting right next to me.” Her face sports a wicked grin that she’s glad Aegon isn’t able to see, lest he ‘accidentally’ hog all the furs at night when he next sleeps beside her.

He digs his cheek into her shoulder for that, but it does nothing other than put a slight pressure on her. “Does Aemond know that our sister wishes to be a jester?”

“Even if I were to become a jester, he would still have my back. Unlike a certain someone.”

Aegon huffs, intertwining their fingers together and scooting closer to her. “Do not be ridiculous. Even if you were to become a pirate, I would simply work hard so I can be the captain of your ship.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, brother, but if I ever became a pirate, I would be the captain.”

Dany almost expected him to refute her words, but instead, he hums an agreement. “That would happen,  if it’s you. Those pirates would be forced to listen.”

“Are you saying I’m bossy?”

“No.” His thumb runs over the back of her hand, lingering on her knuckles. “Never. You’re simply so… you, that those pirates would have no choice but to obey.”

“Hm, alright. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“That is because it is a compliment,” he tells her, tone filled with mock indignation.

Dany laughs, “If you say so.”

“You wish to know more about King Aenys?” Archmaester Orwyle asks, a look of surprise about his face after she asked him to teach them more about the late King’s life.

She nods, setting down the quill in her hand. “He is often overlooked in favor of his brother and son, and people say he was a weak king, but…” The image of a young Aenys Targaryen repeats in a loop on her mind, forever frozen in time because of his untimely death. “He was kind, wasn’t he?”

From the furrow in his brow and the halting of his hands on top of the book, Archmaester Orwyle seems confused by her interest in the king who was remembered as that king who nearly lost the Targaryens the throne to the Faith, but he obliges her and goes more in depth about his short rule.

Dany listens attentively to every word, taking notes and frowning at certain instances where the information just seemed a little strange to her. Wrong, somehow.

“Why did you ask about King Aenys, Dany?” Aemond questions her while walking through the halls after their lessons. Helaena has their arms linked, a faraway look in her eyes as she gazed at the scenery next to the open courtyard.

“I like him. He wasn’t the best King, certainly not a good one, but he tried his best to be a kind person in a world where he was surrounded by people trying to supplant and betray him.” She looks around the red stones before her, a sigh escaping her lips at the thought that they aren’t even walking in the same halls that Aenys did. The Red Keep was built long after his passing, the stone as red as the blood that was spilled after Maegor had the workers killed.

Aemond frowns, not quite understanding the logic in her words, but that was fine. Dany knows how different her views are compared to most people in her new life, she has all the patience in the world if they need her to explain more.

“But he was called indecisive for not acting against the Faith when they gathered their arms against him,” he mused.

She hums, reaching out to smooth her hand over his hair for a moment. “And do you know why the Faith did so?”

He blinked, taking a moment to recall what the maester told them earlier. “It’s because they were against the marriage between Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaena. They said incest was a sin, and it was against the teachings of the Seven Pointed Star.”

“That’s right. You remember your lessons well, Aemond. Good job!” Dany grins, resisting the urge to ruffle his hair when he looks away bashfully at her praise. Then, with a sigh, she moves her gaze to the walls, something heavy in her chest. “But that was only a catalyst for why the Faith acted the way they did. In truth, they were always planning on supplanting our family. Aenys was just unfortunate to inherit the throne during such unstable times. He would have been a good king, if he ruled after King Jaehaerys’ reign.”

Aemond peers at her curiously, to which she responds by laughing sheepishly.

“Sorry. Was I too depressing?”

He shakes his head, reaching out to link their hands together. “No, it is just—you seem to really like King Aenys.”

Dany begins to swing their arms together, a bit like what she used to do back in her old life. Little childish acts like these where no one is around to chide them for are precious memories to remember when they grow up.

“Well, you can say that if we’d been born at the same time, we would have definitely got along,” she tells him, unaware of the sudden frown that paints itself over his face. “He cared for his people and helped them a lot, albeit he did it in a naive way. And he’s very artistic. He was good with a harp and a flute and all sorts of instruments. Did you know he wrote a song for Alyssa Velaryon just before their betrothal was announced? It was very lovely.”

Aemond’s hand flexes around hers. “You sound as if you knew him personally.”

Dany sees the image of a three year old child crawling on all fours after the news of the death of his mother, an inconsolable child with a father who knew nothing of children and was far too busy grieving to give his son the attention he needed.

“I suppose, in a roundabout way, I do.”

The sudden sensation of a finger poking her forehead startles her.

Dany follows the appendage and meets Helaena’s lilac eyes uncharacteristically focused upon hers.

“Don’t get too lost in there,” her sister says, all cryptic words that only she seems to know the meaning of.

Dany hums, taking Helaena’s hand and intertwining their fingers together like hers and Aemond’s hands. “Of course, Hela, I won’t be getting lost in anything anytime soon.”

It’s too bad that Quicksilver died. Dany would have loved to claim the dragon Aenys once bonded with as her own. With her dragon egg not hatching in the crib, she’s left to claim either one of the eggs at the dragonpit, or the wild ones in the Dragonmont at Dragonstone.

Dany will admit, to some degree, that dragons both terrify yet excite her. The idea of what once were mythical beasts being under her command, flying up the skies and letting the world fall into nothingness, it was almost enough for her to consider claiming another egg and waiting for it to hatch. Almost.

If not for Aemond, perhaps she would have. Raising a dragon did seem quite fun.

“It’s unfair.”

Dany hums, tucking her head above her little brother’s head and pulling him closer. He nuzzles into her warmth, the sheets below him rustling as he moved. Tonight, Aemond was the one sharing her bed. She didn’t know whether her siblings spoke about it and made an agreement for a sort of schedule, but they never seemed to approach her room to sleep at the same night.

“What’s unfair?” she prompts, running her fingers over his hair.

“Jacaerys’ dragon egg hatched, and even Lucerys has a dragon. Mine never hatched—ours never hatched. We are more Targaryen than they are, so why…” he trails off angrily, his fists clenched at the back of her night clothes. “Why don’t we have a dragon? Only Aegon has one.”

She worries sometimes that her siblings would one day slip away from her grasp as they got older and experienced differing things that would set their views apart, but it’s times like these when they open up to her and tell them of her worries that she rests at ease. It’s good for them to be open, to express their concerns and communicate in a healthy manner.

Dany knows the importance of good communication, knows that a lot of problems would be solved if the people involved simply sat down and had an honest talk, but she also knows how unrealistic that is, especially for an eight year old like her to force two adults to sit and talk about their feelings. It’ll take time to mend the broken mirror that is her family, but she’ll do it, even if it takes her forever and then some.

“No one is more Targaryen than anyone in our family. All of us, regardless of whether we’re Velaryon or Targaryen, have the blood of Old Valyria in our veins. Did you hear something about our sister’s children?” It’s concerning to think that the people she cares for could so easily be led astray by a few words from a stranger, even worse when that person is someone close to their family.

“Only the truth.” Aemond leans away from her and tilts his head to meet her eyes with his own wide ones. “You’ve seen it, haven’t you? Their hair and—”

“Aemond.”

She’s never spoken in such a way before. So curt and sharp and almost like the way Rhaenyra was before she softened and realized that children aren’t their mothers.

Aemond looks at her with surprise that melts into hurt, his hands loosening from the back of her clothes but still clinging on, however faint it may be.

Dany is quick to lean close and press her lips to his brow, lingering for a few moments to gather her thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” she meets his eyes while saying this to convey how genuine she is. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you, but, Aemond, what you were saying, what you were about to say, you mustn’t speak of it. To speak of it is to accuse our sister of treason, of being a bad person. And Rhaenyra—she isn’t a bad person, is she?”

Her brother purses his lips, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully. “No, Rhaenyra is nice. She… she tells us stories about dragons, and she promised to let me meet Syrax one day, so she can’t be bad.”

She lifts her hand to move a stray strand of hair from his face. “See? Our sister is kind. The people who spread such rumors, they don’t like our sister.”

“But mother said…”

“Sometimes,” it is so, so difficult to speak against someone she loves. Dany loves her mother, wholly and unabashedly, but she also knows that she is flawed. The sins of the parent must never be passed on to their children, and that includes any negative view they may have on a certain person. “Sometimes, when two people are mad at each other, people get involved and the issue becomes worse that it was. Mother and Rhaenyra are like that, except they loved each other very much, and when love turns to hate, it’s very difficult to heal from it.”

Two girls who meant the world to each other, now nothing but enemies on two opposite factions. There’s still love there, hidden beneath years of anger and resentment and hurt, so much hurt that it’s easy to drown in it and let it consume you.

Dany wishes it was as easy as locking them in a room and saying they’re not allowed to leave until they make up, but years and years of hurt and love and everything in between won’t be healed in a single conversation. To move on from the past, both parties must be willing to acknowledge their wrongs. As they are now, Alicent and Rhaenyra are like two castles separated by a broken bridge.

She only hopes that bridge won’t collapse before she’s finished mending it.

“Mother… isn’t always right, and neither is our sister, but even so, that doesn’t mean we should let them make mistakes that will continue hurting them. When people say such things about our nephews, it hurts our sister.” Dany is glad that Aemond is listening. Her little brother has always been very perceptive, her smart little knight. “Words have power. They can be soft and sweet one moment, only to turn into knives the next. They can harm someone, even when we don’t intend them to, so it’s important that we always think before speaking.”

Aemond is quiet after her little spiel. For a moment, she worries that she’d said too much, used big words he wouldn’t understand, or worse, that he simply won’t care—but that was a silly thought, her little brother would never be so insensitive as to ignore a person’s explanation just because it didn’t fit within his beliefs.

Stroking his hair, she continues to let him ponder on her words, to let him form a conclusion on his own. If he asks, she’ll gladly explain it to him in better wording, but for now, letting him make a decision is important. It wouldn’t do good for him to rely on her at every moral dilemma presented to him.

There’s a fine line between guidance and taking someone’s autonomy from them and forcing them to think your way. Dany knows she isn’t the latter, but sometimes, she worries that she’s being too much.

“Mother and sister truly are fighting, aren’t they?” he murmurs, burying his face in the crook of her neck. She doesn’t answer, but it’s saddening to know that such issues have been made known to him at such a young age. He’s supposed to enjoy his childhood, obsessing over dragons and swords, not being caught up in court drama and rumors. “But Jacaerys and Lucerys—they don’t look like us.”

“It doesn’t make them any less of a Targaryen than us. Both of us only have one Targaryen parent, we just happen to take after father more. Besides, they have dragons and we don’t, that doesn’t make us any less of a Targaryen than them, does it?”

Aemond sighs, seemingly conceding to her point. It amazes her sometimes how quick he is to do that. Aegon would have argued his way until there was nothing left to argue about, Helaena would have hummed and pretended to agree with her, but she knows her twin would have been disagreeing inside her head.

“I apologize for being stubborn,” he mutters, arms tight around her.

“It’s alright. It’s also alright to have different views on something. If you truly feel like you disagree with me, you don’t have to concede just because it’s me. On instances like that, we can agree to disagree,” she explains.

“…You won’t get angry at me if I do?”

Dany rubs her chin to the top of his head with a grin. “Silly. Why would I get angry over it? You’re much more precious to me than winning some argument.”

She feels him exhale deeply, breath warm against the skin of her neck. “More precious than Aegon?”

“All of you are equally precious to me.”

The silence stretches on long enough that she nearly wonders if she said anything wrong, but then, Aemond speaks again.

“Dany?”

“Hm?”

There’s the distinct sensation of him opening and closing his mouth repeatedly, as if in conflict whether he should speak or not.

“I…” But then, he shakes his head, “Forget it.”

“Is it something you can’t say yet?” she asks.

“Yes, somewhat...”

“Alright. You don’t have to tell me right now. I’ll wait til you’re ready.”

Aemond doesn’t respond verbally, but she feels him sink deeper into her embrace.

Helaena is like a warm fire during a cold winter night, like fireflies dancing in the air in the middle of the dark, like freshly baked pie after an evening of strolling in the gardens. She’s comforting in a way no one else in the world can be.

It must be something ingrained in her as a twin, but Dany thinks she won’t mind much if she becomes dependent on her.

“Aemond’s been digging his nose through history books to find a dragon he’ll like.”

Helaena hums at this newfound information, her fingers intertwined with Dany’s as they sat on a blanket that’s been laid down the grass. The flowers are blooming and the caterpillars are plentiful, and when Dany asked Helaena to accompany her to the gardens, her twin said yes almost immediately.

“He’s always going on about getting a larger dragon than Aegon just to boast to his face, but I think he’ll be happy with even a hatchling as long as he has a dragon. He’d probably appreciate being able to name one too,” Dany muses, not discouraged by Helaena’s lack of response.

When her twin suddenly leans close and lays her head on Dany’s lap, she merely smiles indulgently and starts braiding small flowers into her hair, never once questioning any action she takes. Helaena is welcome to do as she pleases, and if that includes suddenly putting her head on top of Dany’s lap? Then she’ll gladly indulge her. The daises look pretty around Helaena, like a little halo of petals.

“I’ve been thinking of getting Aemond a present, but I don’t know what to get. It just has to be anything with a dragon.”

Helaena blinks, eyes trained on something behind her before she says, “Silver will suit you.”

Dany tilts her head, considering her words. “Silver? I suppose it does compliment my coloring. Oh! A silver ring with a dragon encircling it would be a good gift, right?”

Helaena shrugs, and Dany finds it amusing how much her sister doesn’t care for what’s ladylike or not. The few scattered flowers she hadn’t used is picked up by Helaena’s dainty hands, bringing it close to her face and inspecting them with dazed eyes.

“Bronze will look better on him,” Helaena says, voice light and airy.

Dany looks at the sky and squints as she tries to imagine Aemond with a bronze ring. It’s not as complimentary as silver, but it looks good enough. “What should the stone be? I was thinking ruby, but it doesn’t seem quite right.”

“Amber,” Helaena answers absentmindedly. “For the eyes.”

She perks up, imagining how thrilled her little brother would be. Looking down at Helaena with a wide grin, Dany leans down and places a chaste kiss to her forehead.

“Thank you, Hela. You’re really good at picking out things, huh?”

Helaena blinks at her once, twice, before reaching a hand out to touch the spot she’d kissed. Dany’s eyes widen as she realizes that it must’ve been out of Helaena’s comfort zone, her sweet Hela who only tolerates hand holding and brief hugs.

Just as she was about to apologize, Helaena puts her hand down and thrusts a single rose in front of her face.

“Put this in your hair. It will look nice.”

Dany gingerly takes it with one hand. It’s a bold red with lush petals, not a single thorn to be seen on its stem. Helaena has a good eye, she thinks with a smile.

She tucks the rose behind her ear, peering down at Helaena so her sister can see. “Thank you, Hela. It looks nice.”

Her sister’s gaze remains frozen on the sight of the flower in her hair, but she’s used to it. It’s likely her offering in return for braiding flowers in her hair, so she lets her hand lazily smooth over the pale hair sprawled all over her lap, thinking up ways to keep the present a secret from Aemond until his nameday arrives.

The materials should be easy to commission, and every craftsman must know how to make anything with a dragon motif, which will make it easier for her to explain her desires for the design. It’s not as expensive as gold or silver, but it should be well enough to gift to a prince.

Still, Dany looks down at Helaena who’s been absentmindedly picking at flower petals, she didn’t expect her twin to suggest such a rarely used metal for jewelry.

Bronze, huh?

Chapter Text

Dany dreams of flying across the sky, something warm and teeming with life beneath her as she stretched her arms to the side and let out a laugh that sounded similar and yet not to her own voice. Her arms are longer than she remembers them being, legs stronger as she sat saddled up to what she now realizes is a large silver dragon.

Something looms above her head, whipping past her and her dragon in a speed that should be impossible for anything that big.

She lifts her gaze, and the first thing she notices is the large dragon that seemed as though it could engulf the entirety of King’s Landing in its shadow. The second thing she sees is the man seated atop the great beast, looking down at her with a large smile set upon a clean-shaven face.

He is a Targaryen, as clear as day with the violet of his eyes and his pale hair that shone in the afternoon sun.

Dany feels herself grin in excitement, clutching at the reins of her saddle before yelling out—

“Race you back home, Aegon!”

—and Daenora jolts awake.

“Aegon.”

Her brother hums absentmindedly, too busy shoving a piece of freshly baked muffin into his mouth. Rather uncouthly, Dany thinks fondly, but instead of remarking on his lack of table manners—and seeing as they are in her private chambers without any witness to Aegon’s lack of grace as he ate—she merely picks up a cloth from the table and dabs at his mouth with it, ignoring his grumbles about not needing to be coddled. She has seen the way he leans into her touch. Her brother is incapable of fooling anyone, least of all her.

Aegon is in the middle of downing a cup of lemon juice when Dany decides to pose her question.

“The next time you go to the Dragonpit to see Sunfyre, may I come along?”

He chokes on his juice, drops of translucent yellow liquid dripping down his chin and staining his doublet as he coughed.

She pats his back to help him, thinking that perhaps she should have waited until he wasn’t drinking anything to ask a question. Though in her defense, she didn’t think such an innocuous thing would warrant such a reaction, but perhaps she should have expected such a thing from her most melodramatic sibling.

Dany dabs at his mouth with a handkerchief again, gently scrubbing the parts where the juice managed to stain his doublet. Aegon is lucky he’s wearing a dark shade of green today, otherwise she would have forced him to change his clothes.

“What’s with the sudden interest?” Aegon asks once he recovers, swatting away her fussing hands in faux annoyance. “You’ve never expressed any interest in joining me to the Dragonpit, not even when I had lessons with the dragonkeepers.”

“Well,” she starts, recalling her dream of flying across the sky and the large dragon that loomed above her. Race you back home, Aegon! “I suppose I want to see Sunfyre.”

“Oh, is that all?” He blinks at her. “You’re not going to attempt to claim Dreamfyre or some other dragon whilst you’re there?”

She waves away his question. “No, and besides, Aemond would be cross with me if I claimed a dragon without him.”

Aegon’s face scrunches. “So, he means to shackle you down with him so he won’t be the only one dragonless among us?”

Quick as a flash, Dany tweaks his nose with her fingers teasingly, retreating before he can slap her hand away.

“Always so quick to think the worst of our brother, you. And might I remind you that Helaena, too, has yet to bond with a dragon.”

He huffs. “Helaena is...” He seems to catch himself before he can say anything that may appear unkind towards their sister. “I don’t think she cares whether she has a dragon or not.”

With a soft hum, she concedes to his point, pleased because though he and Helaena aren’t exactly bosom friends, he is still trying in his own way. Before, he would have made a disparaging comment about Helaena’s intellect, but now he’s more mindful. Perhaps their conversation regarding his attitude with their sister made more of an impact than she initially thought. It incites something warm in her chest, happy that her family are getting along.

Now, if only two stubborn women would just sit down and let go of past grievances, but alas, Dany will simply have to tackle that problem another day.

“Aemond, on the other hand, is a brat. Always tattling to mother about every little thing,” her brother grumbles, something resembling a pout on his lips as he glares at his feet.

She sighs at his complaints, lamenting how utterly clashing those two’s personalities are. Boys.

“It’s not like that. Aemond just wants to be included in whatever you do.” Dany smiles, reaching out to pinch Aegon’s cheek and delighting when he lets her without complaint. “He looks up to you, you know?”

Her admission startles him, whipping his head up to stare at her in wide-eyed surprise.

“He does?” There’s a dubious note at the tone of his voice that Dany is quick to nip in the bud.

“Of course he does. Out of all of father’s children—barring Rhaenyra—you’re the only one with a dragon. We watched you practice your sword lessons with Ser Criston once, and you know what Aemond told me?” She leans in conspiratorially, as though she is about to impart a world-ending secret. Aegon leans in, eager to hear what she has to say. “He said he wants to be like you.”

His jaw drops, watching her with wide eyes like he can’t quite believe what he just heard. Dany giggles at his expression before using her fingers to shut his mouth close.

“Don’t be so surprised. My brave and strong brother who has a beautiful dragon is someone that should be looked up to.” She grabs his hand, feeling the callouses that have formed from years of holding the sword and adjusting the leathers and chains on Sunfyre. She looks him in the eye and wills him to see the sincerity in her words. “He is a kind and caring person, though he won’t show it outwardly. Certainly worthy of being a role model for his younger siblings.”

Aegon turns his head down, silver-gold hair hiding whatever expression he must have.

Dany shifts his hair away from his face, only managing a brief look before he raises his head, eyes misty and face brittle.

“Do you mean it, Dany?”

The fragility in his voice brings an ache to her heart, hope and disbelief warring within him. She wants to hold him close and never let go, to protect him from the court and all that would seek to use him for their own gain. He is precious, her Aegon, and she wants him to know that, so she smiles, placing her palms to his cheeks and lifting her head to press her lips against his forehead.

“Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?

With her thumbs, she swipes at the wetness that gathered at his lashes and leans away, smiling and pretending that nothing is amiss to give him time to gather his thoughts and emotions. It pains her to see him like this, so downtrodden and meek. Dany promises to never let him feel so little for himself that he would doubt her sincerity.

Aegon only takes a moment to compose himself, exhaling deeply through his nose before turning to her with bright eyes and a grin that could have rivaled the sun in its resplendence. It makes the weight in her chest loosen, something soft creeping inside her when she sees how open and warm he is once again.

“Then, this must mean you look up to me too, right?” His voice held a teasing note to it that Dany cannot help but be glad for.

“Always, in both the figurative and literal sense.” She pulls him to his feet, comically squinting as she compared her height to his using her hand and found that she reached just a little over the tip of his nose. “I dread to think how much taller than me you’re going to be in the future.”

“Well, looking up at me won’t be a problem for your neck. I can simply carry you like this.”

Dany barely has a moment to process his words before Aegon is leaning down, snaking his arms behind her back and knees, and lifting her to the air. She yelps in shock as her feet leave the ground, arms circling around Aegon’s shoulders by reflex to keep from losing her balance.

Wide eyes meet amused violets, her brother’s face red with exertion with the effort to keep her in his arms, but the delight at having caught her off-guard is evident in the twist of his lips.

“Put me down!”

Aegon, ever so stubborn, ignores her and takes a single step forward—

Only to lose his balance and send them crashing to the floor.

Dany shrieks, partly in fear at falling to the hard ground, partly in exhilaration, and partly in delight as she and Aegon become a tangled mess of limbs on the floor. She doesn’t fail to notice how he angled his body in such a way that he took most of the brunt of the fall. However much he may act like a goof, he does care for them all, her kind older brother—no matter if she is, technically, older than him.

The sound of her shriek must have alerted the Kingsguard stationed just outside her rooms, because Ser Arryk is bursting through the door not a moment later, a hand on the pommel of his sword with his eyes scanning the room as though searching for the imagined perpetrator for the princess’s scream.

What he finds is a prince and a princess sprawled across the floor.

Dany and Aegon share a look between each other before bursting into laughter.

“Please calm down, Ser. I was merely surprised by Aegon’s antics,” she reassures between giggles, covering her mouth with her palm to muffle her laughter.

“I apologize for barging in, my prince, princess.” He inclines his head to them, though the quirk of his lips betrays his amusement at seeing them in such a state.

Dany is the first to get up by courtesy of practically laying her entire weight on Aegon, offering her hand to him and pulling him to his feet.

“It’s alright, Ser, er—” Her brother squints at the Kingsguard, struggling to recall which twin is in front of them.

“Ser Arryk,” she supplies.

“Yes, Ser Arryk, it was no problem. In fact, you came just in time!” Aegon grabs her hand, half-dragging her to the door. “My sister and I were about to depart for the Dragonpit.”

Dany directs a bewildered look to him. “Wait—now?”

“There is no point in delaying it, unless you have plans for the afternoon?”

“No, I don’t…”

“Then we can go now.” He nods to himself, seemingly pleased as his hand tightened around hers. Addressing his next words to a passing servant, he says, “Prepare a wheelhouse to take the princess and I to the Dragonpit.”

The servant murmurs a demure agreement before scurrying off to relay his orders to the stable master, or whoever is responsible for arranging their mode of transportation.

An hour later and the dragonkeepers are leading a chained golden dragon from a pit emerging from the ground. Its scales glimmer amidst the flames of the torches and the afternoon sun, truly embodying its name.

“He’s beautiful,” Dany breathes as she beholds her brother’s dragon.

He is smaller than she expected. Much, much smaller, in fact. Not that he isn’t big—he could certainly swallow a man whole if he wanted to—but he is also not as big as she thought he would be. Certainly not ‘engulf King’s Landing in his shadow’ kind of big.

Aegon preens at the praise beside her, a wide smile stretching his lips as he approached his dragon, speaking words of Valyrian that sound almost garbled to Dany’s fluent ears. She will have to remind him to focus on learning more of the language, though perhaps constantly speaking to him in Valyrian will teach him more than forcing him to endure hours’ worth of Grand Maester Mellos’ lessons. Her brother does learn more through actions than merely reading and listening to a droning voice.

Still, for a ten year old, she is proud of him for having such mastery over a second language.

He presses his palm to Sunfyre’s snout, looking back at her with a warm glow to his face.

“Would you like to touch him?”

Matter of dreams forgotten, Dany breathes out an awed yes, because she would sooner climb the Wall than say no to the prospect of being able to pet a dragon. She approaches with slow footsteps and laughs when Sunfyre breaths a sulfuric breath over her face after she marvels over how warm his scales are. Her lips spill endless praise in Valyrian for him. She imagines if dragons could look smug, then Sunfyre would certainly look like it.

Through it all, Aegon watches with fond eyes and a content smile.

Dany has a plan, a foolproof plan. She made sure to keep the matter of this meeting between her and the two people she invited so they won’t have the chance to back out and create excuses.

The first to arrive is Rhaenyra, who immediately sinks down to her knees to hug two-year-old Lucerys who toddles his way to her once he sees her with a gummy smile and a garbled mama on his lips.

Alicent comes a moment later, freezing upon the doorway when she sees Rhaenyra on the floor, fussing about Lucerys. Dany’s sister looks up at the queen’s sudden entrance, the smile on her face dissolving into a blank look once she and Alicent make eye contact.

Dany decides that now is the perfect time to make her presence known.

Hand in hand with Daeron and Jacaerys, she steps between the two ladies having a staring contest and greets them as though nothing is amiss.

“Mama, sister, it’s good to see you. Daeron, Jace, and Luke have missed their mothers dearly.”

This is her plan.

She can’t lock them in a room together and force them to make up. The queen and the princess are notorious for never spending time in the same room unless absolutely necessary. But never let it be said that Dany will let such a thing as a difficult endeavor stop her from attempting to bridge the gap between two of the most important women in her life.

If she can’t lock them up in a room, then she will trap them in one using never before seen tricks—namely, the adorableness of children. Her mother and sister won’t be able to fight so openly in front of the face of Daeron, Jace, and Luke’s round, chubby-cheeked faces. Dany has no doubt a few underhanded comments and veiled insults will pass over her head (because try as she might, she doesn’t have the heart for politics and the cunning needed to be a formidable opponent), but they can’t do more than exchange barbs, not when their children are there.

She leads them to take a seat on the couch that can comfortably fit three people, made with lush red fabric filled with pillows that depicted a three-headed dragon. It was the only piece of furniture within the nursery that could be seated on, thereby forcing two people to sit close if they didn’t wish to sit on the soft rugs draped over the floor. Dany had ordered the servants prior this morning to discreetly remove all chairs and sofas save for that one.

Was it a bit much to force proximity on them by having them sit a mere few inches away from each other? Perhaps. But if it means taking a step closer to having them forgive each other, then Dany will push and push until too much becomes enough.

Her mother and sister take a seat on the opposite ends of the couch, poorly hidden disdain on their features as they regarded the limited space between them. Alicent is the first to look away.

“Daenora, darling, come sit with us.” Her mother places her hand on the space beside her, clearly intending for Dany to be some sort of wall between her and Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra nods, perhaps one of the few times she has ever agreed with the queen’s words.

“Yes, Dany—” Alicent’s face briefly tightens at the familiar address “—have a seat.”

Dany puts on a placid smile, betraying none of the amusement she feels at seeing such strong-willed women urging her to sit beside them so they may have a border between them, perhaps even a mediator of sorts. It reminds her of Aegon and Aemond whenever Alicent forces them to sit beside each other during meals, whilst Dany sits across them beside Helaena. Somehow, Hela’s aversion to touch always disappeared during those times, staring unblinkingly at their brothers as she opened her mouth in a silent invitation for Dany to hand feed her.

She opens her mouth to gently refuse their offer, but Daeron chooses the perfect moment to tug on her dress.

“Nora, look!” Her heart melts at the sound of her name. Nora, Daeron calls her, because unlike their other siblings who grew up hearing Rhaenyra and Aegon call her Dany and parroting it until it became a normal thing, Daeron was surrounded by wet nurses and their mother, who only ever referred to Dany as Daenora or Princess Daenora. And Daenora was certainly a mouthful for her toddler of a brother, and thus, her name was once again shortened, but this time to that of Nora.

Her littlest brother is seated on the plush carpet, showing off the tiny wooden block on his hand like it’s the rarest treasure in the world. Dany crouches down to pick up the block and kiss Daeron’s head.

“It is a fine block, brother. I shall treasure it dearly.” Then, she turns to her mother and sister, who are looking equal parts fond and soft at the interactions. “My apologies, mama, sister, but Daeron, Jace, and Luke have been asking me to play with them, and so I must decline. I wish to be closer with my brother and nephews.”

It is, admittedly, a rather lame excuse, something her sister would have narrowed her eyes at and saw right through had it been any other time. But the fact remains that this isn’t just any other time, it’s the time—the time in which Dany takes the first step in mending the relationship between the two of the most important (and stubborn) women in her life.

Rhaenyra would have crossed her arms and demanded Dany sit next to her, but with Alicent in close proximity sitting quite literally next to her, Dany thinks her sister is more focused on not looking anywhere within the queen’s direction. And Dany’s mother, for her part, is mimicking Rhaenyra’s actions in that they are both wholly focusing their attention to their respective children. Her father the King would have called such a sight as them being doting mothers wishing to watch their children play, but Dany has spent enough time with Aegon and Aemond after a fight—which left them both unable to look each other in the eye—enough to know when two people are deliberately trying to ignore the other’s presence.

And Dany has spent enough time mediating between her hard-headed brothers that she knows just the right words and conversations to steer them into speaking with one another.

What follows is a series of very awkward and stilted conversation between them all, with Dany using the boys as a source of topic. She should feel bad for using them like this, but beyond her goal of having Rhaenyra and Alicent make up, she does want to spend time with Daeron and her nephews. If it has the added bonus of keeping her sister and mother from each other’s throats, then all the better.

“That’s great, Jace! Not even Aemond was able to stack such blocks so evenly when he was your age. Isn’t Jace such a smart babe, mama?” She smiles at her mother as she holds Jace’s little fist and waves it in the air as a greeting.

Alicent blinks at having been questioned instead of Rhaenyra, but like the queen she is, she answers with all the politeness expected of her. “Yes, he does seem intelligent for his age.”

Dany turns to the other woman in the room, twirling a lock of Daeron’s silver hair on her finger. “And Daeron’s curls are so darling, aren’t they, sister?”

“Yes, they quite remind me of Luke’s curls before he grew out of them.”

And so similar other such conversations follow, Dany asking a question and receiving a polite, if distant, agreement. It’s not as bad as she expected, but not as good as it could have been. But, oh well, progress is progress, she supposes. Aegon would laugh if he were here, Aemond would frown and question if all of this was truly necessary, and Helaena would know what to do. Her twin always does.

Ah, it’s only been a few hours, but she misses them already.

“Now, Daeron, how would you fancy some cakes for a snack. Jace? Luke?” she asks the children seated before her, all looking up at her with stars in their eyes at the magic word—cake.

They all clamber to their feet and babble out their excitement, tugging on her skirts to get her to stand from her seat. Dany laughs at the comically wide-eyed look on Jacaerys’s face as he urges her to move faster.

“Nora, come quick! Cakes!”

She pinches his cheek when she finally gets to her feet, ignoring his cute, pouting face. It reminds her of the look Aegon sports whenever she does the same to him. Aemond would grumble, but there’d be a pleased little smile on his face when he thinks she isn’t looking. Helaena would startle at the contact, but Dany would quickly find her cheeks pinched in retaliation. Daeron, on the other hand, only smiles wider whenever she does it to him, ever her darling little brother.

“Cake’s the best!” Daeron pipes in.

“Right as always!” And just because she can, she ruffles his silver curls and is delighted when Daeron only leans into her hand.

“I think that is enough indulging them, Daenora. It is nearly time for the children’s afternoon sleep,” her mother stands, neatly brushing her skirts down.

“But I have already told the servants earlier to prepare cake at this hour.”

Lucerys tugs at her hand. “Cake! Want Nora and cake!”

Dany smiles and decides to humor her little nephew. “Perhaps when you are older, Luke. We shall fly across the Narrow Sea, see the great wonders it has to offer, and eat only cake for the rest of our lives.”

Lucerys giggles, understanding perhaps only half of what she said, but enough to know that it’s a fun idea. Her mother, on the other hand, seems to view it as some sort of whimsical idea.

“I am being serious, Daenora,” her mother sighs, although there’s a furrow to her brow that suggests she is thinking hard on something.

“I never jest about cake.” Dany turns a mischievous smile towards Rhaenyra. “Wouldn’t you agree, sister?”

Rhaenyra takes a moment to blink at her, eyes briefly flitting towards Alicent suspiciously, before nodding her head and agreeing. “Of course, Dany. Cakes are no jesting matters.”

As though seeing that she’s outnumbered, Alicent closes her eyes and acquiesces to the promise of cake, much to the elation of the children.

Progress.

It isn’t the most ideal solution, but it’s one that offers more insight on the past than her previous endeavors. Dany isn’t afraid, no, but there’s still trepidation in her steps as the Kingsguard, Ser Rickard Thorne, announces her presence.

“Your Grace, the Princess Daenora wishes to see you.”

The rasping sound of her father’s voice resounds from the thick wooden doors leading to his chambers, “Let her in.”

Ser Rickard opens the door for her, bowing his head when she passes by.

The King’s room smells heavily of incense that barely masks the decaying rot of illness that has seeped deep within his bones. Various tapestries depicting dragons line the walls, but most prominently are the ones that show Old Valyria before the Doom.

She walks deeper into the room, stopping once she sees the figure of her father hunched over a table.

“Father? It is I, Daenora.”

Her father turns, what remains of his limp hair swaying from the motion. He regards her with purple eyes, illuminated by the light from the open window and the burning hearth. With a jolt of surprise, Dany finds that they are the same shade as Aemond’s eyes. Aegon’s eyes are a deeper shade of violet that could almost be mistaken for indigo in the dark. In contrast, Helaena’s eyes are a bright lilac that shone prettily under the sun. Daeron’s is more similar to Aegon’s, if a bit lighter by a shade or two.

Dany would never admit it out loud, but of all her siblings, Hela’s eyes are her favorite.

“Daenora?” Her father puts down a white block down the table. “What brings you here?”

Unspoken is the fact that Dany has never once sought him out before. Her father the King is a rare presence in her life. The only times she sees him is when they are having dinner, and often only when Rhaenyra is present. She doesn’t begrudge him this, knowing that despite saying otherwise, parents do have a child they favor more than the others. And yet, whenever she remembers Aegon’s disappointed look at their father’s empty chair and her mother’s resigned smile when the King takes Rhaenyra’s side over her own, she finds that she is unable to turn a blind eye to her father’s shortcomings.

Perhaps she shouldn’t blame him so, because this world is not the world that she once knew. There are no expectations for the father to be present in his children’s lives, nothing and no one to teach him that children need more than a servant’s attention to raise them.

But she didn’t come here to give him reproach on how absent he has been to her and her siblings as a father all these years, no. She came here because she wants to know more about the history between her mother and sister.

So, she steps up, hands folded neatly in front of her, and prepares to recite the speech she had planned ahead of time with Helaena’s input. Although her sister hadn’t been of much help in that regard.

“You won’t need all of that later,” Helaena told her without bothering to look up from the spider she recently caught in her jar.

But despite her advice, Dany had still gone and rehearsed what she would say until she was sure she could recite it even in her sleep.

Her father’s gaze is curious, open even, as he looks at her.

“Father, I wish to…” Dany trails off, her attention suddenly caught elsewhere.

“You wish to…?” Viserys prompts, urging her to continue where she left off.

But Daenora suddenly finds herself incapable of remembering what she had rehearsed countless times. The words are there, right on the tip of her tongue, but her mind is somewhere else, her eyes glued to the figure behind her father. It is all so familiar and impressive, something that would have been deemed a masterpiece in her old world, but it isn’t the connection to her old world that is so familiar about it. It’s something else.

She was so lost in her awe at the sight that she immediately blurted out what was on her mind. “Is that Old Valyria?”

Her father startles at her question, perhaps not expecting that of her. He turns to the model before him, so realistic and detailed that has Dany itching to see it up close and examine every nook and cranny of it.

“Yes, this is indeed a model of Old Valyria, crafted using what little knowledge was left in the scrolls left behind by our ancestors as they fled the Doom.”

She decides to take a risk by approaching the model until she is standing beside her father, close enough that she can see each scale on the dragon closest to her. It isn’t one she recognizes. When Viserys makes no move to shoo her away or reprimand her for getting so close, she allows herself to marvel over the artistic masterpiece standing before her.

“Father, it’s beautiful,” she breathed out, staring at how extensive everything is. Handcrafted and painstakingly carved down to the very last detail.

She feels his stare boring into the side of her face, but she can’t pull her eyes away from the image of Old Valyria writ small, drinking in every detail and cataloguing everything in her mind. A small dragon catches her attention, perched over a tall building that’s a little far off the center of what seems to be the heart of the Valyrian Freehold.

“Is that Balerion?” She points to him, the dragon’s jaw open as if it was in the middle of roaring.

“Yes, that is indeed the Black Dread, much smaller than he had been when he died,” her father answers after a moment’s pause, turning a curious eye to her. “Although I am surprised you recognized him. There are many other dragons in this model.”

It was true, there was at least a hundred little dragons scattered over the mini Valyria. Balerion wasn’t even the largest of his kind, that title belonged to the dragon nesting on top of the building right at the center. Vaedar.

Viserys points to the very same dragon. “This one was ridden by the head of the most prominent family among the forty dragonlords of Valyria. It was the largest dragon during the time before the Doom. Unfortunately, records of it is scarce and have been lost to time and erosion.”

“Oh, then this place here must have been our ancestors’ land. And this one here was the Belaerys’s, and this one was the port, and here…” She trails off, realizing that she has rambled too much—to the King, of all people. Suddenly feeling bashful, she directs a smile to him, putting down her hand which had unconsciously began pointing out various locations. “My apologies, Your Grace. I forgot myself.”

Viserys raises his hand to reassure her, a gentle smile fixed on his half-decaying face. It is a grizzly sight for those with a weak heart, but Dany finds she does not care much for it, only the soft way her father is looking at her, as though this is the first time he has ever truly seen her.

“No need to apologize, my dear. I find that such enthusiasm over my model is a rare, yet welcome sight.”

She can’t contain the wide, excited grin that flits over her lips, turning her attention once more to the model of Old Valyria before her.

Viserys indulges her questions, answering patiently and, if she has read him correctly, a hint of excitement as well as they talk about the architecture and building placement, her father explaining the various reasoning for each structure and their purpose, even making names for a few of the dragons scattered along it.

Dany knows she shouldn’t get so lost in discussing the model and Old Valyria itself with her father, but she so rarely has the chance to delve into the past such as this. She will ask about her mother and sister later, when the timing is right and her curiosity has been sated. Later.

Only, she finds that later does not come, because when a knock resounds from the doors leading to the King’s chamber, Ser Rickard Thorne’s voice echoing through the wooden doors announcing that it is nearly time for dinner with the rest of the royal family, she discovers that time has eluded her. The open windows show her the darkened sky, candles burning around them and illuminating the room in a soft, orange glow.

She looks to her father to gauge his reaction, only to find him looking at her with a soft smile that is most often reserved for Rhaenyra only.

It is almost easy to come to a decision.

Her father is a distant figure to her and her full-blooded siblings, but Dany will not simply stand by anymore and let him waste away in illness, alone in his rooms with only his miniature Valyria for company.

“Father, Aegon and Aemond will be having their lessons tomorrow with Ser Criston. Would you like to watch them with me?”

It is funny to watch Aegon’s eyes widen comically when Father joins her in watching them on the balcony overlooking the training yards, and she laughs outright when Aemond’s face turns red after father clapped in good cheer when Ser Criston praised his footwork. They are far more focused on their lessons with Father watching, intent on making a good impression.

Aegon, to her amazement, does not let a single complaint slip from his mouth. Aemond has always been a dutiful little student, but today he is more so than usual.

She turns to her father later, just when they are set to leave to see to their respective duties for the day.

“Father, I plan on going to the nursery to visit Daeron, Jacaerys, and Lucerys in the afternoon. I think they would like it if you could come as well.”

And that is the day Dany learns that when she needles him enough, her father can do nothing but say yes to her requests.

That night, a head of silver hair slips through her blankets, lilac eyes crinkled happily.

“Did you use your script?” Helaena asks.

People would describe Dany’s sister as aloof to the world, her emotions a cycle between only joy and sadness—if she is lucid enough to register the world around her at all. But they can’t be farther from the truth. Her sister may seem like her head is constantly up in the clouds, but she is far more aware then she lets on. Helaena can be a gloating little thing full of smugness when she wants to.

“No, I didn’t,” Dany admits.

Helaena says nothing, staring at her expectantly.

She sighs, more amused than anything, and says, “You were right, Hela. As always.”

Helaena nods, a pleased smile on her lips as she buries her face in her pillow, one hand clutching onto Dany’s own.

“I always will be, just as you always were,” comes Helaena’s muffled reply.

Dany hums, not quite understanding what her words mean, but that was alright. Helaena once told her she didn’t need her to understand, only to listen and to know when the time was right.

Perhaps by some strange turn of fate, Helaena knew the future, or perhaps it’s all just rambles of a sleepy girl. Regardless, Dany would listen, and hopefully one day, she would know what it meant.