𝓐𝓮𝓶𝓸𝓷𝓭 𝓣𝓪𝓻𝓰𝓪𝓻𝔂𝓮𝓷
Wake up.

My mind willed me.

Move.

My body tasked my mind.

You must find her.

I refused to make our children orphans.

My heart, finally being what compels me up from beneath the rubble.

Everything ached and my ribs cried out in pain, forcing me back down at first but I grit my teeth, fighting through it to push off the large stones that trapped the lower half of my body.

"ELAENA!" I yell, but my voice doesn't travel far, for I'm enclosed in rock, surrounded by obstacles between us.

There was no telling how long I'd been out but my gut twisted in knowing unease.

A fog clouded my mind and though I told my body to move I had little to no strength. We'd no rest, no food in over a day.

And if I were this weak, Elaena would be feeling the same deficiency.

With every passing moment, images of Elaena in pain and alone seared into the forefront of my mind. Countless possibilities raced through my thoughts, and I knew something was gravely wrong.

I mutter curses under my breath and use what little adrenaline I have left to seek out my wife.

Gods willing she hadn't wandered off too far.

Heaving rocks out of my path I wiggle my legs out one at a time but one of my ankles won't budge.

"Seven hells," I growl.

I don't have time for this.

I inhale deeply and dig my elbows back into the soil. With one final pull on my leg, I manage to break free but not without consequence.

My ragged voice rips from my throat in agony as warm blood seeps down my leg, but gritting my teeth through the blinding pain I manage to escape by crawling out from under the debris.

Once I get to my feet I don't stop in hopes the voices won't have a chance to darken my thoughts.

I would find her.

I would find her.

I would find her.

Most dark hallways are blocked and I'm worried we'll be trapped here in this tomb if I don't find her soon, starving to death before anyone can reach us to help.

"ELAENA!" I yell again, moving down any open path that might take me to her.

Out of sorts, I wipe the hot sweat from my brow beginning to panic when she doesn't call back for me as she had before I'd been knocked out.

Now, only silence greeted my desperation.

As I push past fractured columns and dodge those collapsing on top of me, my ankle aches from the extra pressure causing it to give way beneath me. I grunt in agony as I catch myself on the wall, taking a moment to recover before realizing how familiar the hallway is.

I was close.

Seasmoke was just through here.

Praying to any god that listened I'd hoped she was safe, I'd hoped she and her dragon had broken free.

If we were destined for this life the gods surely wouldn't take her from me now, would they?

When I enter Seasmoke's cavern the chill from the night air glides across my skin like thin blades and goosebumps erupt down both my arms.

The entirety of the ceiling had caved in on itself, the dust still lingering in the air as if it'd just happened not moments ago.

At first, I'm not sure what to think, but when I don't see Seasmoke right away my chest tightens with hope that's quickly fizzled out when I take a step closer.

The oxygen is knocked out of my lungs when I see Seasmoke's silver scales glisten between the large fragments of stone just beneath the moonlight.

His body doesn't move, not even a breath is huffed in the stillness of the dragon pits.

Seasmoke was lost, and yet another magnificent creature succumbed to the collapse of the dragonpits.

I struggle across the debris, holding my breath and gritting my teeth through the agony.

"ELAENA!" I cry out into the cavern again, my voice growing raw at my countless pleas for her but only empty silence greets me and I've never felt so alone.

My soul ached with the very absence of her and in our years of tragedy and war I'd never felt anything quite this absolute.

I carefully approach the dead dragon, looking for any evidence of life, but it's crouched around something protectively... or someone.

Long white Valyrian hair passes through the dragon's broad claws, glinting in the starlight and I stumble backward, dropping Dark Sister to the ground.

When it clatters against the stone, I do not hear the deafening noise that must resonate from its steel for I am already sprinting to her aid.

Dropping to my knees I pull Seasmoke's claws apart only to reveal more of my beloved's face and red-hot tears are already flooding my eye.

"No," I breathe, shaking my head in defiance of the scene before me.

"Elaena! I'm here!" I call out to her but she doesn't move, and the blood drains from my face.

Prying her cold, lifeless body from her dragon's protective grasp, blood stains the stone where she lay and I cringe.

Carefully I brush the wisps of hair away from her face to search for injury, but at first glance I notice nothing.

My wife's skirts are tattered and I can't be sure where the blood is coming from so I panic, lifting them only to find more soaking her undergarments.

"Fuck, fuck," I hiss, struggling to apply pressure to my leg but I ignore it lifting her into my arms to carry her myself but I stumble, falling to my knees after only a couple of steps.

Holding her to my chest I cradle her face and press my forehead to hers, pleading for her to open her eyes. "Please, please," I say, battling back sobs that threaten to burst from my throat.

Dark Sister's Valyrian steel mocked me as it shimmered in the moonlight and Daemon's voice echoed in the darkest confines of my mind.

I'd failed her.

I'd failed our children and the realm in being unable to protect her.

Teetering on the edge of insanity and grief I refuse to believe what I see before me, pressing my ear to her chest.

Closing my eye I listen closely for her song, no matter how faint, and pray.

I'm holding my breath as my fingers go along her jawline, lightly brushing against the smooth flesh of her neck, when I notice a steady drum just below the skin's surface.

A heartbeat.

𝓐𝓮𝓰𝓸𝓷 𝓣𝓪𝓻𝓰𝓪𝓻𝔂𝓮𝓷

When it came to my half-sister's final moments, Ser Criston Cole was not kind; his grip was unrelenting and personal in his resentment of the impostor Queen.

When the Kingmaker throws her to her knees at the Dragonmount, one of the boys heroically tries to go to her, and I instantly identify the foolish lad.

Sharp Valyrian features, and just as courageously dimwitted as his Mother and Father.

"How the Gods favor us, my Lords! We've not only a false Queen in our midst but mine own nephew has cared to join us as well,"

The poor young man's eyes grow wide when he slowly realizes who hobbles before him and a sort of satisfying pride wells up in my chest.

For years I was the monster beneath their bed, the predator forever lingering in the dark, prowling, until it was the proper time to strike.

And their Queen, their own Grandmother had brought them directly into the dragon's den.

"Grandmother you must run!" He insists but the boy beside him stands stoic, his violet eyes watching my every movement.

Not much made my burnt skin crawl but the knowing gaze that followed me as I staggered through the great hall felt strikingly familiar.

"It's him."

"Our son."  With a cooing voice, Tessa speaks over my shoulder, and I resist my urge to stop and stare at her ghost.

Cole and Lord Strong notice my hesitation but I recover quickly, the subject of years of my ire before me and in chains, powerless, nonetheless.

"The Pretender Queen, tell me how are my Mother and Sister? My daughter?" I ask Rhaenyra, and her expression is one of irritation.

"You abandoned them," My half-sister scoffs, and as I take a step closer to her I notice she's been crying, the whites of her eyes as pink as her tear-stained cheeks.

'The Realms Delight' she once was.

Now it was I  who would bring peace and stability to the Realm.

"You seem to have kept them quite safe under your protection," I sneer, cocking my head to the side, "Except of course the welfare of my sweet sister-wife,"

It had always been my intention to flee the Capital without the women. They would only slow us down and draw more attention to our company of soldiers.

More mouths to feed and more tongues to wag.

I'd known that my foolish brother and his bitch bride wouldn't allow anything to happen to them even if my only true-born son was slain in the bastard Strong's name.

Until my plan could be implemented, they had all taken care of my seat, keeping the fires burning in the Red Keep and my throne warm.

My retribution has been long overdue, but the reward would be worth its weight of dead bodies in gold.

"And then there's that, awful matter of your son and daughter-"

At the mention of Elaena and Joffrey, the room stills, and the storm breaks.

"Don't speak another word of my Mother! My father and Vhagar will lay waste to this castle with you inside!" The boy's voice booms with delusional authority from across the room as he struggles to get to me through the guards.

When I take him by the collar the boy doesn't flinch but I'm no fool, I know all too well where fear lingered in the gaze.

One of my knights holds his arms behind his back and the corner of my lips pulls into a malicious grin.

He was completely at my mercy.

Just the same as Rhaenyra.

And just the same as his Aunt Baela who wasted away in the cells below our feet.

"How is it you suppose they died, hm? I can only speculate how her last moments must've been." Leaning in nice and close I can feel the heat of his fury bubbling beneath the surface in his veins.

He jerks forward meaning to headbutt me but the knight yanks him back, to force him to his knees and my sense of humor gets the better of me, coaxing a heartily laugh from my throat.

"Aelyx, stop!" The older boy beside him warns but I can't afford to stare at my son long, biting back my curiosity. There would be time for us to get well acquainted.

"Aelyx, they tell me your Mother was crushed alive, I imagine her skull caved in. I'd hoped it was slow and painful. Ever the hero even in her last moments, and Lord Strong. The doomed dragon rather kill itself than let him mount it,"

"Aegon, that is enough!" Rhaenyra's defiant cry is cut short by Ser Criston who takes a handful of her hair, yanking her head back to hold a dagger to her throat but the cunt of Dragonstone continues.

"My children fell defending the ancient power of our house! Protecting the Realm! You don't deserve such a birthright, it serves you right that you lost your dragon all those years ago!"

Above her head, Ser Criston and I meet eyes.

My intention had always been for my dear sister to die a long and dreadful death, but it seemed a more satisfying approach had presented itself.

Easing all my weight onto my wooden cane I follow the stone landing of the dragonmont to the edge, "You forget yourself Rhaenyra, you are no supreme voice for the Gods."

Turning to face my three prisoners, the dragon keepers come forth upon command of Lord Larys who stands at the threshold, assuring no escape with two more of my armed knights.

"Our father may have believed so, but his ideals and intentions died with him, just as yours will die with you," Though my body is weak, I practically feed off the fear in their paling faces.

"Māzigon, Sunfyre!"

My deep call bellows through the caverns of the dragon mount and my formidable dragon doesn't keep us waiting for long.

Formally small and agile, Sunfyre had come dangerously close to death at the battle of Rooks Rest. He had been kept away in the forest for months, feeding on corpses in secrecy until he could fly again.

We'd all been astonished when the beast made its surprising return home to the Red Keep late one evening.

Ever since I have maintained absolute secrecy on the condition of my dragon.

Sunfyre's once glistening golden scales were now faded but they still caught the waving flame torches that lined the walls with brilliance.

My half-sister's face goes pale, whatever color is left in her cheeks fading with whatever fight she has left.

"Impossible," she breathes, shaking her head in disbelief as her grandson struggles to reach her.

"Grandmother! Run! You must run!" He cries, but his cousin, my son, watches me with wide-eyed horror.

They tore us apart.

He will understand one day.

We wouldn't be together until they were all dead.

Turning to meet my dragon he nuzzles his scarred snout against my chest with a soft whine of greeting.

It was rare Sunfyre and I took flight. It was only in the dead of night that we found our sanctuary, which made our find of Lady Baela even more remarkable.

It was almost as if the Gods favored me and my cause.

"Release her, Ser Criston. It's time my half-sister met her bastards on the other side,"

Cole moves the pretender forward at my command while the knights move the two boys back to safety.

"Sunfyre won't survive Vhagar and neither will you! Our brother will come for his boys!" Even with her last words, she bears a threat intent on inflicting fear when it was her whose fingers trembled.

"I'd hoped he would, dear sister. And it'll be your hands soaked in his blood when he does,"

Taking a few steps back I turn to my dragon and my stare burns into his, sensing my intentions before I mutter the word.

"Dracarys, Sunfyre!"

Without hesitation, the fierce beast rears back its long golden neck and I can't already feel the heat rising in his throat.

Sunfyre takes a step forward in front of me assuring my safety and in one breath Rhaenyra Targaryen's body is swallowed whole by the roaring flames.

𝓐𝓮𝓶𝓸𝓷𝓭 𝓣𝓪𝓻𝓰𝓪𝓻𝔂𝓮𝓷
Lightning cracked in the early morning sky waking me with a jump out of my chair.

For only a moment I think the events of the past couple of days were only a nightmare but when my heavy eye finds Elaena's body beneath the covers of our bed the sinking feeling in my chest returns with a sudden jolt.

Glancing out the window I guess at the time and stretch my strained bones, cringing at the pain that shoots up my leg.

Ignoring it I rise to my feet, closing the short distance that still somehow felt too far between Elaena and me.

The dim candlelight danced across her wounded face and despite the scratches and marks that nicked her face, she was still a sight to behold. Her long wavy hair was still damp from the wash her handmaidens had assisted with hours ago.

"Elaena," I plead quietly.

Running my fingers through the long strands I tuck it behind her ear, trailing my fingertips down the sharp curve of her jaw, "You promised we'd do this together," I whisper, praying that wherever she was in the dark she could still hear me reaching out for her.

When I'd finally returned to the keep with Elaena in tow the silent sisters and maesters had expected her dead and as far as everyone within the seven kingdoms knew, she was.

The capital was vulnerable and almost overrun but the moment word had reached the small folk of the Prince and Princess' death, their shock and grief seemed to extinguish some of their outrage but my rage was plenty intact.

A knock at the door startles me and my instant reaction is rage, "I've told you time and time again, Lothston-"

"It's Prince Lucerys, my lord. He wishes to see the body of his elder sister for himself," Maester Gerardys looks down at me with warm, pitiful eyes but I avoid the old man's gaze, looking over his shoulder.

"Of course. Send him," I grumble, watching Elaena's chest slowly rise and fall.

The door clicks shut behind him only for it to swing right back open with Lord Strong barreling through it, "Where is my sister?!"

Though Lucerys was years long a man I still saw that innocent boy standing before me. Just as that night at Storms End, Luke's curly brown hair is nearly straight he's so soaked from the storm, his dragon riding gear dripping all over the rug at Elaena's bedside.

If only I could've saved her just as I'd saved him that night.

Master Gerardys closes the door swiftly behind him and I rise to meet my nephew, "Luke-"

"It's true then? She's dead... my sister's gone," My nephew refuses to look at me, afraid I might notice his tear-stained cheeks as he takes his sister's hand, kneeling at her bedside.

"Not entirely," I tell him quietly but his face twists in disbelief.

"Uncle," He sighs but I shake my head, my gaze tied to her.

"Her heart still beats, Luke. It's the only thing I've stood listening to these past days."

The room goes still as my nephew watches her, afraid to have any semblance of hope but I have nothing besides that and my rage to cling to.

"H-how? I flew over what remains of the dragon pits,"

"Some of the underground tunnels remain intact but Seasmoke took most of the brunt of the force. When I found them... he was curled around her."

The memory of her still body in Seasmoke's clutches made my shoulders tense. The maesters had to virtually rip her from my grip because I was convinced she might stop breathing.

"And my little brother?" Luke's voice is so low I hardly recognize it as his.

I can't speak through the lump in my throat, the guilt clawing its way back into the forefront of my mind.

"He followed us to the pits. We thought he'd made it free but..." I hope he won't make me continue but he waits expectantly.

"Joffrey attempted to ride Syrax to safety, but she refused him, not being her rider. He fell to his death,"

Luke cringes at the awful fate his brother endured and though his loss would be mourned deeply, he wasn't the only one we'd lost.

Thousands of townsfolk had perished along with at least a hundred of our gold cloaks who'd fallen protecting the Keep and the dragons.

And while Vhagar was safe in the skies, we'd still lost Seasmoke, Dreamfyre, Teraxes, and Veraxxes. In all the years our dynasty had ruled Westeros, it was hard to say whether a battle or war could've brought our house this much loss.

Lucerys takes his sister's hand, stroking the pad of his thumb against her skin reverently, willing her to wake up, "I should've been here."

"Was losing one dragon not enough for you?" I ask him, crossing my arms over my chest.

"I'd trade my dragon a thousand times over for my brother and sister!" His pointed tone throws me off guard and I'm left wondering if he means to make me feel like such an awful brother.

"Sometimes we don't have such a choice, Lord Strong," I mutter under my breath, my gaze trained on my wife.

"And my mother? What choice did she leave you when she ran off in the night?"

He asks through silent tears but I shake my head. Raking my hands through my hair I push it out of my face, "Once the dragon pits collapsed she was advised to flee. If Elaena and I made it back we were meant to meet her and our boys at Dragonstone."

Luke seems unsatisfied with my answer but remains to himself, lost.

"Advised." He scoffs, "By who? Her hand has yet to arrive from Driftmark and her closest council members were protecting our dragons!"

Immediately I stop the anxious drumming of my fingers on my arm and stare at my nephew through a narrow gaze.

Who indeed.

A knock at the door interrupts my thoughts once more and I blow out a puff of air in annoyance.

"What now?"

Maester Garardys enters but this time with a curled-up scroll between his fingers. I practically jump to grab it, eager to hear any news from my sister at Dragonstone but at first glance, I recognize the seal to be elsewhere.

"Hmph. It's from Stark. He must be answering your mother," I grumble, passing it off for him to read.

Silently Luke rolls open the parchment, reading over its contents, his eyebrow raised in question and the queeziness in my stomach returns with a vengeance.

"Baela never returned home to Winterfell when she left us with Jaehaera in Driftmark." He tells me, rereading Cregan's messy script over again.

Asking what might be an obvious question I peer over my nephews shoulder at the letter.

"Then where has she gone?"

My nephew shakes his wet head, as confused as I.

"That's just it. He's no clue. He hasn't heard from her in almost a week,"

Years ago I might've poked fun at Stark's foul luck with women but the timing is unsettling to say the least.

Taking my seat back at Elaena's side I watch her carefully as Luke stands to address the maester with an appropriate response but I'm afraid it's only yet another question added to those we already had.

"I suppose Cregan and I are both looking for our lost loves," I murmur before pressing a soft kiss to my beloved's forehead.

"Māzigon arlī naejot īlva, ñuha vāedar"
Come back to us, my song.

***