𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎: 𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐘

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋

𝐑𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀 '𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍' 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐒 born on one of the darkest nights in King's Landing or as her mother told her. The moon was gone, none of its beautiful moonlight to be seen down below with the mortals in either Flee Bottom or the Palace. The night was eerily silent, not a scamper of a mouse at all, even the candles barely guided the way for healers and handmaidens to attend Queen Rhaella with her third child. It was cold, deathly so as if The Stranger itself was among them, waiting by Queen Rhaella's side watching her wordlessly scream as she pushed a girl with a small tuff of silver hair with dark violet eyes out. It was Rhaella's easier births, one of her mother's handmaidens told her but her mother thought it was much too easy, too eerie to not feel as much pain as she did when she birthed Rhaegar or Viserys. Healers told her it got easier with each birth until the Queen died on her bed in Dragonstone giving birth to her fourth and last child Daenerys without her husband or oldest son present. There was a great storm that accompanied Daenerys ever so that was named Daenerys Stormborn.

She loved her family; she loved her older brother Viserys even when his soft uncalloused hands would touch her skin with such violence or perverted love that left her stomach rolling for hours. She loved her younger sister, Daenerys Targaryen who was as different to Viserys as the sun and the moon. It was as if her mother's favourite words; "It was told that when a Targaryen was born, a coin would be flipped, and the world would hold its breath as it watched it fall in silence. They would never know which side it landed on until it was too late," was in physical form playing out right in front of her. Dany was a lovely girl, innocent as you could be with such a gentle and beautiful voice that rivalled her oldest brother, Rhaegar. The two had a vast difference between them and Rhaenella thought of herself as a coin stuck in a crack, right in the middle of both violent and mad to merciful and innocent. She could be whenever the situation demanded it so.

Despite that, she truly loved her family but that could not be said for other people. The Seven Kingdoms used to love Targaryen's, they had brought around eras of peace and some eras of violence. That all changed when Lyanna Stark fell into the arms of Rhaegar Targaryen despite having already had a wife and two children, it was plain to see even when she was four-summers-old that he loved the she-wolf. She remembered nights when he would sing her to sleep with stories of she-wolfs and dragons and a prince that was promised. She grew up on the belief that Targaryen's would be the house to rid the world of all its dangers, in the North and the East. That all came crashing down when Rhaegar was slain by Robert Baratheon in the battle of the Trident. She wasn't there of course, but she heard the whispers of her retainers on how brutal his death was, how brutal the entire rebellion was all for a 'runaway' she-wolf. She vowed to never let that happen to her - to be so blinded by love that entire houses and kingdoms would suffer for it.

She could hardly fault her favourite brother for falling in love, Lyanna was beautiful and strong, but Elia Martel was much more beautiful and kinder. The Dornish woman would sneak her fruits and sweets when her mother Rhaella denied her. Admittedly Rhaenella didn't know much of the Stark girl, just the whispers her in-love brother told her. Rhaenella didn't know much about love at such an age, but she could see how one could love multiple times because Rhaegar did love both Elia and Lyanna. Even when she was older, she believed it was okay, that it was the norm to love multiple people - she had met many people in Essos who had multiple wives. But Rhaenella also knew that love was not meant for royals or for the dragons among men. Marriage was a political affair, and children were a duty and that was that.

With the Rebellion and the death of her father King and oldest brother, the metaphorical crown landed in Viserys bloodied hands. Because the three Targaryen did not have a crown, nor did they have a Throne or a castle to call home - that was taken. No all of that and everything accompanying such a title was gone, it was long gone before King Aerys the II died. The Targaryen children had no home to call theirs in King's Landing, so their last loyal retainers took the children across the Narrow Sea towards Essos and its 'free' cities. They had moved every couple of years to people who were loyal to the Targaryen family and to people who wished for the wealth they would get when the Targaryens were placed back onto the Iron Throne. There was none greedier than Illyrio Mopatis; a Magister of the Free City of Pentos and merchant prince.

The fat man was immensely rich and powerful in Pentos, and he had given the Targaryen children a place to call theirs for a time. Dany thought it a prison, especially with the silent Unsullied guards around the home. She did not yet know the real horrors of being the last of the Targaryen line, she did not know the real length of enemies lurking - all she knew was that Robert Baratheon the Usurper wanted them dead. Rhaenella tried her best to shield everything from Dany who was only fourteen summers, she was young and innocent and loved her little bit of freedom. She loved walking around the gardens by her sister's side, she loved singing quietly to the birds and watching her sister read and paint. The two-sliver harried princess was near inseparable, attached to the hip one might say. Dany looked up to her beautiful and intelligent sister who was the only strong female figure in her life and Rhaenella loved her like a sister and daughter. She doted on her dear sister, more than she should have in Viserys' opinion.

Where Rhaenella and Daenerys were pure and silly in their time together, gossiping with the servants about the lords and ladies in Pentos, painting and reading to each other. Or where Dany would slip into her older sister's bed at night when she had a nightmare and Rhaenella hugged her tight and pushed the monsters away. Viserys and Rhaenella were vastly different in their sibling bond. There was no familial love, no innocent and pure activity among them and Viserys did not slip into his younger sister's bed because of nightmares but to hold her soft and growing body against his.

Rhaenella had no idea where the line had started to blur for Viserys or when he saw her as a woman for him to keep and touch rather than a sister to protect and she did not want to know. Rhaellena let it happen only to keep his hands away from her precious Dany (who she thought was much more beautiful than her) and Viserys never hit Rhaenella which she was thankful for. She did love him, he was her brother and he could be gentle when he wanted to be at night. He was her first lover and first love and that meant something to her for a time. Illyrio knew but never spoke of it to her, just sent her small pitying looks, she wasn't ashamed of being with him, she could never escape him even if part of her wanted to. Targaryen's had a long line of incestual love, it kept the bloodline pure and going and she looked up to King Aegon and his strong sister queens Visenya and Rhaenys. She aspired to be a king like Aegon; ambitious and ruthless yet merciful, as beautiful, playful and smart as Rhaenys and as strong, stern, passionate and loyal as Visenya.

So, she saw no problem in bedding Viserys despite the warning bells ringing in her ears as time passed on, she loved him she truly did. Then Viserys got the notion that Rhaenella was his, his to marry and his to touch and she found out that men usually thought this when they bedded a woman – especially when they took a woman's first time. The notion was something that made her uncomfortable in a sense, she knew she was a woman and nothing more even if she was a princess but she didn't want to belong to something as simple as a man or a so-called Dragon.

There were boundless things women could not do or should not do and Rhaellena hated it. But there was nothing she could do about it, she was smaller and weaker than most men, weaker than her frail brother. When she realized it she begged Illyrio (who had a soft spot for her and Dany as they were nothing like the beggar king, not filled with grandiose expectations just contentment and thankfulness that they were spared) to get someone to teach her not to be weak. It was in secret, of course, Viserys would've thrown a fit if his sister was harmed and then would've scoffed at the idea of 'his queen' holding a blade and becoming somewhat proficient in it. It passed the days and helped her not feel so weak.

Rhaenella mourned the boy Viserys once was when she lay at night, her pale body naked and littered with fingerprints from when he dug his hand in too deep. She also mourned the girl she once was in the daytime when she overlooked Illyrio's garden and saw the beginnings of the Sea – far away from King's Landing and Dragonstone.

Viserys was a soft child before the Rebellion, perhaps a little forceful with his hands and spoke nasty words against the servants. Rhaenella thought it was the arrogance of the crown he stood in line to inherit but it carried through with him when they went into exile.

He grew a lot worse as the years went by, hitting anyone that insulted him or looked at him wrong. There was no gentle bone in Viserys that Rhaenella could see any more. His hands upon her were strong but soft and his violet eyes on hers were the closest they would get for love, but Rhaenella knew his love for her was twisted. She soon came to realize that Viserys didn't truly love her, he loved the idea of her. The idea of being a pure and beautiful Targaryen woman that would bring him many silver haired heirs.

It wasn't the normal love where you would whisper sweet things to each other when the other was down. Or where you would hold each other with such gentleness like a feather or stay the night when they slept in the same bed. Rhaenella might've had a different view on love that some women did but she knew what lovers were expected to do. And Viserys was not a lover, he was a taker.

When Rhaenella was ten and seven-summer's old she grew bored with Viserys; bored of playing his demure and innocent sister and so called lover. Grew bored at counting bruises and the possessive whispers in the night. No matter how much she loved him (it had been waning as the years went by) she realized that Viserys was not what she wanted and never would be. She knew what she wanted and expected in a relationship and Viserys was just not it but she couldn't leave him, couldn't say that to his face. No matter how strong Rhaenella got or how proficient she was secretly becoming with a blade she could never stand a chance against her older brother, she still feared him no matter how sharp her sword was. Viserys was helping them survive and soon get the throne back under Targaryen's rule – he had been saying that for summers so Rhaenella's trust in him was slowly waning.

Rhaenella wanted love, gentle caresses in the night, for someone to wake up to in the morning, to have the laughter of children rouse her from bed. She wanted someone who wouldn't anger over something she said, wanted someone who didn't want to own her or demand they listen to everything they said. To have someone hold her as they both looked out into the streets within their home. When she thought of all that, what she wished for in a lover Viserys did not come to mind but Orys did.

A man she had met when she sneaked into the village to be amongst the people, try new spiced food and drink poor wine. She had bumped into him when she had slipped out of a lesson on the House of Krakens and the Greyjoy Rebellion - she didn't care much about the Iron Islands. He was looking around like a foreigner and wasn't it obvious he wasn't from Essos? He was in leather and heavy metal armour with a sword strapped to his waist. He didn't have the usual Essos skin tone (not that she could say anything about it since she was paler than any Northmen) but a light pale that was slowly growing a tan due to the hot heat of Essos which meant he had been in Essos for a few months.

"Are you alright?" He asked when he caught her by the waist before she could fall backwards on the dirt path. Her smaller hands clutched at the top of his armour so she wouldn't fall and caught her breath. She sent him a charming smile like she was born for it and in a way she was.

"Thank you Ser," she kindly said, pulling herself off the man before she could further make a fool of herself.

He pulled his hands away, his hand gripped back onto the pommel of his sword tightly, "Of course, anything for a beautiful maiden."

Rhaenella would never admit to anyone that her cheeks reddened at the compliment, all the ones she had heard from her brother, Illyrio or the other Essoian lords and ladies fell flat from the genuity of the knight before her. She jestingly placed her hand over her chest that was obscured by a dark green cloak and teased, "Oh my, how charming, you must have a name."

Rhanella was pleasantly surprised at the man's flushed cheeks that was not from the heat of the blazing sun and found she quite liked it especially when he bowed his head lightly to hide it. "...Orys, my lady," he introduced, grabbing her hand in his and bending to kiss her knuckles with a flutter of his slightly chapped lips.

How sad it was that a stranger she had just met had made her heart race faster than her proposed first love had. Or had shown her a simple act of kindness unknown to her in a palace of greedy snakes?

"And you? That fairest creature I've laid my eyes on most have also a beautiful name," He flirted and once again Rhanella was not blushing. The man had interested her, well the compliments had and she was a girl who craved attention and love (it was the queen in her, Viserys would say) but she had to be careful, he was a knight after all.

"The fairest one's name is Rhael," Rhanella jested with a quirk of her lips and without a second to ponder she lopped her arm around his and started walking. Orys seemed content with letting their feet guide them as they talked and Rhanella noticed he walked confidently like most knights but as they continued she could feel and hear the humility in him and she quite liked it. He was like a breath of fresh air and was nothing like how Viserys described men who only saw her for a body to lie with or knights who wanted her head to deliver to the Usuper.

When the new pair reached their self-imposed destination (a tavern that Viserys would kill her for being in) their mouths hurt from smiling and their cheeks flushed like virgin brides.

They spoke at a length of the delights of Essos (well Orys spoke and Rhanella listened enraptured at every word leaving his lips), what the best wine and ale was, and destinations they wanted to visit one day. It felt as if hours went by, just the two of them in their own little world in a corner of the loud tavern, ignored by all but the other.

As their 'meetings' went on and on for months Rhaenella could see he did not wish to own her nor bruise her supple skin, but he wished to kiss it gently, brush his calloused, gentle fingertips over every crevice.

The way he looked at her was nothing like the way Viserys looked at her. Orys seemed to gaze straight into her heart and surge forth feelings she never once felt for her older brother. He was honest, gentle, kind, funny, and passionate and he made her lighter than she had ever felt since the fall of her family. Rhaenella knew the two of them did not have a future in store for them, they were different, she was a princess (not that he knew) and he was a knight (or was he?).

They didn't talk much if at all about their pasts or their occupations but they discussed their likes, dislikes, families and dreams over ale and wine in the same creaky and overzealous pub. They might've not known each other well but they both wished they could know more about the other – even if both of them spewed lies as well as spun tales. They started out on a lie and presumed assumptions that were far from the truth.

But when Orys touched Rhaenella with a gentleness she had never felt then everything flew away, it scrubbed away all the past harsh touches from Viserys, she was not a princess in Orys arms but a woman wishing for love when she knew she could never ask for something as such. When Rhaenella touched Orys, all the blood he had previously seen was washed away with a gentle whisper, Orys was simply a man willing to do anything for a woman he knew was hurting inside and Orys cared not for his family or the weight of his sword and crown when he held her as they gazed up at the bright stars.

So, when she sat at her vanity as the sun fell three months later, a purple bruise growing on her cheek, her now clean body after a scolding bath she fixed the black shroud over her head, covering her sliver plaits. Despite telling her brother no for once in her life and putting her foot down she felt freer and lighter than ever. Viserys had gone into a fit when Rhaenella told him no to bedding, she wasn't feeling well she told him. He slapped her with a mighty force, sending her to the floor and he snarled at her to get better and to never tell him no again.

It was the first time Viserys had ever hit her face and Rhaenella knew Orys would've never done something like that if she told him she wanted to rest instead of exploring each other's bodies. Everything clicked inside of her, Viserys was not the one she wanted, he was not the man she loved.

She stood, brushing her black dress down, fixed the tint on her lips and slipped her blade (a secret gift from Illyrio) into the hidden sheath around her thigh. She pulled the black cape tighter around her body and with one last glance at the mirror she slipped out of the room, following a memorized path out of the palace and into the quiet streets of Pentos. She would have to be careful with her plan in mind, it would either piss Viserys off even more or placate him somewhat.

She just hoped Orys would accept, she did not feel safe in the palace anymore not with her brother there, but she couldn't just take Dany and leave. They had no coins and secretly she wished to go back to King's Landing with a three-heading dragon flag fluttering behind her by her sister's side. She knew she would never have the throne herself, but she wanted it for her family, for her ancestors. Targaryen's were the ones to unite the Seven Kingdoms and she would make it so, again. So, no she could not leave, no matter how much she wanted to (even when Orys spoke about the delights of the Seven Kingdoms he had seen).

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Orys's intro chapter is next! Rhae and Minoe will also be 'converging' next chapter and it's already over 5000k words so get ready for a thickkk chapter.

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