Chapter Text
The skies above Pentos were beautiful, with their silky pinks and vibrant blues; it was made more beautiful by Moondancer as she swerved around Vhagar and Caraxes. She was a shadow in the air, a shimmer of silver you would miss if you weren't looking hard. She was effortlessly graceful, even the people on the roads turned up to stare at her in awe. Baela looked even more beautiful, as though she were the Warrior incarnate. Rhaena tried not to feel left out, even though it always seemed she was. Her mother said it was only because Baela had a dragon that they spent more time with her. Seeing as riding a dragon was one of the most dangerous things in the world. But standing here and seeing how she was treated differently was earth shattering.
She had always known her father had disliked how she had no dragon, he did not speak to her as often, he did not help her with anything that was supposed to be her birthright. He did not notice that she was better at Valyrian, he did not notice that she knew all the houses and who was whose heir. He did not notice that even though she did not have a dragon, she was better than Baela at many things. Her mother loved her, she knew, but she did not stop her father from playing favourites. She did not stop her own favouritism creeping in, her mother did not tell her as many stories of the Stepstones, she did not tell her stories of Old Valyria as she imagined them, but Baela… She was given everything, she was the first choice in everything their parents did. She was always the first choice.
She had grown used to it, she had grown used to the fact that she would never be the one they wanted. She had and she was fine with it. Everything was fine.
-
Rhaena stayed quiet, the candles burned low over their dinner and her father and sister spoke loudly. It hurt her ears to hear them. She had never liked loud sounds and her father's voice was the last loud thing she wanted to hear.
"Moondancer has grown quickly, she will be as big as Syrax soon enough." her father smiled at Baela. His smile was warm and full of pride, Rhaena turned back to the table. Has he smiled at her like that? Without being reminded of it by her mother? "She will be fierce too, I would imagine–"
"But never as fierce as Vermithor." Rhaena commented idly. "Nor as big."
The talk ceased at once and the silence was thick, as though the air had contorted into a blanket. Her father turned to her, frowning, he never smiled at her, at least not that she could remember.
"I doubt anyone but Caraxes could be as fierce as the bronze fury, Rhaena."
"You remember my name, do you?" she asked.
The silence stretched between them once more, her father was truly frowning now, looking to her mother for help. But before she could say anything, she pushed away from the table and dipped into a curtsy.
"Forgive me, I forget myself, My Prince, I shall take my leave."
As she left the room they went back to speaking. It was as though she had never been there to begin with.
-
Rhaena held her pink and white egg over the flames. She knew it was no good, that eggs did not hatch if they did not want it. But she held onto the hope that one day it might, fragile as it was. Hope was the only thing of her parents she had left in her and it was not enough, just as she never was. Is that why the gods gave her mother twins instead of just her? They had known her parents would not be happy so they gave her a twin, who was prettier, who was sweeter, who was kinder than she and had left it at that. Giving them everything they wanted. She wished it did not mean that she was left with nothing. She wanted to be in the skies. She wanted to fly with her sister. She wanted her parents to love her. But she could not be loved unless she had a dragon.
"Rhaena." her mother called.
She turned to her and raised an eyebrow, her mother was easily the most beautiful woman Rhaena knew. Her long silver hair was wild and curly, she usually had it in a ponytail that could barely contain it but since she became pregnant with her new brother or sister, she had worn it down, the process having become tiring in the mornings. She wished she had hair like her mother. Her dreadlocks were ugly, Baela had pretty hair, just like mother, it was another way they were different.
"What are you doing, sweetling?"
"She will hatch." she said, simply. "I know it, she just hasn't had the right opportunity."
"You have waited for that silly little thing to hatch your entire life. We shall be leaving for Kingslanding soon, perhaps you will find a hatchling there—"
"You ask me to give her up?" she demanded. "As you and Father have given up on her?"
"That is not what—"
"I will not!" she hissed. Clutching her tighter to herself, it was as though only she could hear the heartbeat beneath the shell, the only one who could see that she was more than what she seemed. "She will hatch. I don't care if that takes another moon or a thousand more. I will wait for her."
Her mother stared at her in the way she did when she saw how Father and Baela interacted. It was pity, she did not want pity, all she wanted was for her egg to hatch. She did not explain why it meant so much that this egg was the one to hatch. If she tried. Her mother would not believe her either. It was not so much one feeling as thousands, she just knew that her dragon was to be this one.
“If that is what you wish, sweetling, I mean only to advise you.”
“Mayhaps you should save that for Baela.” she could not help it, “I’m sure she shall have more use for it than I.”
Her mother frowned at her, confused, that was a new look on her face, well, mayhaps it was not new, now she thought of it but at least it was not pity. Pity was the look people had when they did not understand your pain but wanted you to think they were sorry for it. Rhaena did not have pain, which is why she could not stand it. Pity was for an imagined pain, mayhaps if she thought she was in pain, then she could pretend that she was not a disappointment.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, it does not matter, my apologies, Mother.”
Her mother was not satisfied with that answer but she nodded, and left her and her egg. Rhaena tilted it around the fire, the flames a pleasant lick upon her fingers, her dragon’s heart thrummed beneath her shell, in sync with hers, what would be her name? She thought of all the most wonderful things in the world. Things that made her smile, even when she sometimes did not wish it. Her mind went to the pinks and silvers and blues of dawn and of the way the sun rose steadily on the horizon. Feeding the plants and warming the earth. A symbol of hope, for even her, the hope of a new day.
“Morning, that shall be your name.” she whispered to the shell.
-
It was not that she disliked Kingslanding, she was simply unused to it after all this time away from it, she only heard about it from Baela’s stories. Or at least, the stories told to her by their mother and father. It was beautiful, she supposed, in a filthy, disgraceful way. She looked out the window at the people walking around the roads, they limped and flies seemed to buzz from their skin, was that why it was called ‘the stinking city’? If that was not its name, it should be. Rhaena held back her sneer as she watched Caraxes and Moondancer shriek above the city, circling each other, playing a game only they knew. A game she had no part in.
“Rhaena?”
She jumped and turned towards Princess Sansa, Prince Jon’s wife, she scrambled to her feet and curtsied, her hair flouncing around her in her haste to pay her the proper respect.
“There is really no need, why are you in the castle? Where is your family?”
She pointed vaguely towards the sky and the princess followed her indication, her lips in a firm line that had gotten her cousins in trouble more than once if she were to guess. Princess Sansa was as beautiful as Mother, her hair was curly and silver, just like her and they shared the violet eyes all Valyrians had. But Princess Sansa had designed hers like a northern lady. The style was very different from the capital and the extravagance, it was simple but it was beautiful. Like her egg. Princess Sansa leaned down and smiled gently.
“It seems an awful waste to stay in here all day, will you take a walk with me?”
“Um…yes, Your Grace, if it pleases you.”
“Sansa.” she corrected her kindly. “We’re family.”
“Yes, Sansa.”
“Come.”
She held out her hand and Rhaena took it happily. Before she paused and turned back to her egg.
“Would you like to take the egg with you? Rickard went nowhere without his for the first ten moons after he got it.”
“Rickard’s egg did not hatch in his cradle?”
It may be arrogant but she had always been sure that her egg had been the only one to never hatch, if it was not then why had her father acted as though it was?
“We did not put an egg in his cradle.” Sansa explained. “Him and Torrhen did not get their eggs until this year, they went into the dragonpit to visit Vermithor and Silverwing, she had laid a fresh clutch the week before and they found two identical eggs, it was a miracle really. They would be very upset if they had different eggs, they’ve always had the same with everything. They felt it only natural if their dragons were the same.”
Rhaena giggled at the silliness of it all, Princess Sansa chuckled as well and nodded towards her egg, she went to it and placed it safely in her satchel before returning to Princess Sansa and taking her hand again.
“She will hatch.” Rhaena said offhandedly as they walked towards the kitchen (Sansa was gathering food to give to the people on the roads) “I know it.”
“What shall be her name?” she asked.
Rhaena blinked, she had not expected that, she believed her? No one ever believed her about Morning, she had even asked for her name, Rickard and Torrhen must have named theirs as well. Rhaena could not wait to meet them, they seemed like they had a lot in common, she had never had that to share with someone before.
“Morning.” she said, once she realised that the Princess was waiting for an answer.
“Morning.” Sansa tested the name out on her tongue and somehow made it even more magical than it already was. “She will be extraordinary, much like her rider.”
Rhaena’s eyes felt itchy for a moment before she scrubbed them away. That’s right, Morning would be extraordinary, even if she was not.