Like a gracious hunter, Rhaena Targaryen chased her white tabby kitten around her chamber. She rolled over the recently made-up bed, crawled underneath the table by the window before cornering the feisty little tomcat between her closet and the stone walls

"Gotcha!" she hissed as the kitten fruitlessly pawed at the mortar in between the stones. With one hand she grabbed the creature and tickled its soft belly. It purred and clawed at her. With retracted nails, of course. She had taught the kitten how to behave.

Behind her, the door flew open and in barged Grandfather Aegon. A hollow tiredness shone in his purple eyes. His silver hair hung flat against his cheeks. Rhaena guessed he had been sitting on the Iron Throne all day, listening to the complaints and worries of all men and when who had travelled from far and wide to King's Landing to address their issues to the King.

"Come with me," he said. Grandfather was a man of little words. His actions spoke for him. 

She nodded and jumped up, her kitten racing around her feet before getting distracted by the red pillow that had fallen off the bed. She grabbed Grandfather's hand. At nine year's old, she was mocked for clinging to her parents and grandfather like a toddler, but the number of strangers walking through the castle scared her. 

He took her to the hill outside of King's Landing where her family's dragons were roaming freely. Several aurochs had been slaughtered for their dinner, the meat laying on the stones charred and smoking, for dragons always burnt their meat before consumption.

Balerion, Grandfather's big black dragon, was tearing loose large chunks of meat. He stopped as they approached and raised his enormous horned head. Rhaena tensed as The Black Dread gazed at them. She squeezed her grandfather's hand.

Grandfather laid his hand on the beast's head and scratched him under his jaw. "You don't have to be afraid, Rhaena. He won't hurt you."

"But I know the tales of how you conquered Westeros, Grandfather. Larissa said you took Balerion out when the Lords of Duskendale and Maidenpool gathered an army of three thousand men. When you were done, there were three thousand heaps of ashes."

"Yes," he hummed. "But you are a Targaryen, born of dragon's blood. No dragon can harm you."

Her eyes were drawn to Balerion's jaws. They were so big that one bite would swallow her whole. "But then why do they scare me?"

"They shouldn't." Grandfather crouched in front of her. He gently pulled her chin towards him. "You are the firstborn of my firstborn, Rhaena. Your brother shall be King, but as the family tradition prescribes it, you shall marry him to keep the bloodline strong. As Queen, you must be loved and feared at the same time. No more hiding in your room and playing with kittens. You are a Queen of dragons. You must act like one."

"But how?"

"Today you shall be able to prove yourself." He rose. "Stand here. Don't move."

"Grandfather?" Her voice slipped up a notch as he mounted Balerion and stood standing right behind his neck.

"Don't you dare run away," he repeated. "That's an order."

"But what will you do?"

The steady rhythm of the dragon's breath was the only reply she got. Seconds lasted forever as she waited for something to happen, anything. Her heart thudded, her palms were damp. Her legs were trembling so much she feared she would collapse.

Then came her grandsire's booming voice. "DRACARYS!"

Behind her, the black dragon flapped his wings, causing a wind that made her totter. She regained stability as the acidic smell wafted around her.

The air turned as black as the dragon's scales. She screamed so loudly that over the course of the coming decades, any man present in King's Landing that day would tell their offspring of the deafening shrieks coming down from Rhaenys' Hill. Even all of Flea Bottom had abandoned their meagre supper to look outside and see what was happening.

She held her tongue as the dark flames engulfed her and burnt her crimson dress off her skin, draping her in a new dress of smoke and fire. Yet the fire didn't hurt her. It was but a tickle, no worse than when she and her brother Aegon had been frolicking in the courtyard on a hot summer's day. 

Power ran through her veins, chasing away the fear that had kept her small and weak. She turned around and smiled at Balerion. Standing on her tiptoes, she petted his snout.

"Grandfather was right. I shouldn't fear you." With newfound courage, she asked, "Grandfather, will I be a Dragon Rider just like you?"

But her grandfather was no longer standing on the dragon's neck. She clutched to one of Balerion's spikes by his mouth and she looked around, telling herself that nobody could ever harm her or her grandfather. 

Just as she took a step away from the Black Dread, Grandfather appeared from between Quicksilver and Vhagar, a tiny pale blue she-dragon with silver markings curled around his shoulder. "Wanna meet your new friend, Rhaena?"

"She's mine?" Rhaena whispered in awe as the baby dragon sniffed at her hand.

"A Targaryen ain't no real Targaryen if they don't have a dragon of their own." Grandfather gave the creature an additional push. It leapt onto Rhaena's shoulder.

 She could feel the talons gripping her bare skin, but they didn't cut her. She moved her fingers towards his tiny snout. "She's beautiful. Thank you, Grandfather."

"She still needs a name," he suggested.

Rhaena pursed her lips in thought as the dragon nibbled her finger. A strand of smoke escaped its nostrils, white and weak, but already warm. One day her flames would be just as grand as Balerion's, but for now, they could only dream of the fire she would be able to produce. One day they would soar the skies together.

"Dreamfyre," Rhaena said with a nod. "Her name is Dreamfyre."