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warnings: blood and gore!

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RHAENA softly hummed as she gently held the dragon egg in front of the lightly burning fireplace, she was so lost in her hopes and prayers that she didn't hear the door open. 

"It's been eight years, sweetling. Half of them never do, you know?" Laena said softly as she approached.

Rhaena slowly looked behind her, "What?"

"Hatch," Laena answered, feeling sympathetic for her youngest, who lowered the egg onto her lap.

Sighing, Rhaena quietly asked, "Will they let me stay?"

"Will who let you stay?"

"The Prince of Pentos. I don't understand. He wants you and Father..." Rhaena listed "Daenys and Baela... 'cause you have dragons."

Laena sat behind her, causing Rhaena to turn around, "There is more than one way to bind yourself to a dragon. I was without one until I was fifteen years old and now I ride Vhagar, the largest in the world." she ran her hand over her daughter's hair, "You have a harder road." just like me, "your father was too without a dragon, and now does he ride?"

"Caraxes, the Blood Wyrm."

Laena wore a tender smile as memories of her children mispronouncing the names of their dragons came to mind.

"Daenys and Baela's dragon was born to her. But if you wish to be a rider, you must claim that right. Your father would tell you the same."

Rhaena's face fell, "Father ignores me." 

Laena pulled her to her chest, mindful of her large bump, "He's doing his best."

She knew she couldn't keep defending her husband when he caused pain due to his blatant actions, but all she knew was that she had to protect her daughters.

So she gently stroked Rhaena's back, unaware that Daenys heard every word.

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When Laena found Daemon on the roof of the manse a small smile reached his eyes, seeing her in all her glory as she walked over. The Pentoshi robe exposed her large bump. He shifted so she could perch next to him. His available hand steadied her as she huffed, sitting down.

Over the years, they'd found solace in this spot, talking until the sun crossed the sky and their children's chatter reached their ears. Like they were nothing but two people under the night skies, not noble, nor dragons, but Daemon and Laena.

Even though that wasn't reality, it was a dream they deluded themselves into believing sometimes. To cope, to live and to wonder.

"Laenor has written. Rhaenyra has delivered another son," she informed, seeing him fiddle with a cup.

"Does your brother mention if this one also bears a marked but entirely coincidental resemblance to the Commander of the City Watch?"

Laena chuckled, recalling a similar conversation they had years ago, "He seems to have left that detail out."

Although the two found amusement in the predicament Laenor and Rhaenrya found themselves in, the rumours of their alleged dragon seeds had spread across the Narrow Sea. If her brother loved his sons who did not resemble him, and Viserys claimed the boys took after their grandmother Rhaenys, then she too would love her legal nephews, who one day could become sailors, mariners and the next... Lord of the Tides.

But lines of succession can change, she thought stroking her bump, as a similar occurrence happened with my mother.  

"Mmm. I miss my brother, Daemon. As I think do you," she stated softly, aware that her husband thought Laenor was a loyal companion.

"I miss Westerosi strong wine," he shook the cup he held, "It could be depended on for a few hours of peaceful oblivion," he sipped then threw the rest out, "This amber shit that they drink here."

He stood up, going to lean against the bricked wall, closeby to the torches that lit up the narrow path.

Laena walked over to stand behind him, "Do you never long for home?"

"No."

"I don't believe you," she said.

"Believe what you please," he said, without casting her a glance.

"You laud the virtues of Pentos, but you have no interest in it. If you did, you would venture into the city, but instead, you spend your time here, in the library," she expressed, unknowingly speaking the same words her daughter spoke, "reading accounts of the same dead dragonlords whose legacy you claim has no hold on you."

"Didn't know I was being so minutely observed."

"You do not sleep."

His jaw clenched, "Well, how can I with you haunting my every move?"

Laena flinched as if she'd be stung, "Life has, I know, disappointed you." she heard him scoff,  "Perhaps, I too, am not the wife you would've wished for yourself."

He craned his head to the side, "Laena."

"It does not pain me," not like it once did. Her feet carried her next to the Prince who respected, admired, and loved her, "I have made my peace." she rested a hand on his back, "But you are more than this, Daemon. The man I married was more than this."

He leaned into her caring touch, murmuring words he rarely said aloud, "I'm sorry."

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No one spoke of the burden of the eldest sibling. It was a gift and a curse. They were not shielded from responsibility and consequence. Daenys felt a weight on her shoulders, that would grow heavier whenever she saw or heard the troubles her sisters journeyed, the problems that ailed them. And so she would push her torment aside, allowing the void she bared to expand.

She accompanied her youngest sister on a stroll through the gardens, Odessa chaperoned them whilst Baela and their father were basking in the other's company, riding the Blood Wrym overhead.

"Cannibal, Vermithor, Silver Wing, Sheep Stealer, Grey Ghost," Daenys listed the unclaimed dragons as she and Rhaena were smiled at by the various servants and natives of the land. "You should steer clear of Cannibal. It's in the name."

"Because he eats dead dragons?"

"All dragons," she saw the shock on Rhaena's face, "he's too wild to be claimed Rhaena. No one has ever ridden him. Then there is Vermithor."

"The Bronze Fury. He nests in Dragonstone."

Daenys nodded, "He does. According to legend, he was born to our Great-Grandsire King Jaehaerys."

"He is a fearsome beast."

"Silver wing was more docile, Sheep steeler... ate sheep," the sisters giggled, "and it's said that Grey Ghost only emerged from his lair once every few years. Do you remember when we saw him?"

Rhaena eagerly nodded, they saw the reserved yet wild dragon fly over the Narrow Sea during the dead of night, trying to snatch his feed from the waters.

"Mayhaps, you'll receive a dragon egg from another clutch, laid by another dragon. There are endless possibilities. That I believe."

"Thank you, Dany," Rhaena had always looked up to Daenys, they all saw it in the youngest twin's eyes. Rhaena always tried to remain content with her reality, although her insecurity architected by her father's unconscious neglect weighed on her mind only to be briefly taken away with the kind reassurance from her sisters and mother. "Do you recall when we always danced without music Whenever Baela and I had a bad dream?"

Daenys smiled, "I do."

"I miss those days," Rhaena wanted to return to them.

Daenys pulled them to a halt, gently taking both of Rhaena's hands in hers, her soft gaze trailed over her face before catching a glimpse of her snake earrings.

"Then we must recreate them. We can't chase the past. Only focus on the present," Daenys said sternly. One day, she'd smell the salty sea air of High Tide, hearing the waves of the Narrow Sea, crash against the shores, near the port of Spicetown. How their mother described her home only drove Daenys' desires. "You, me and Baela. Us."

Rhaena gave her toothy smile. "Us."

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Riding a horse was far different to riding a dragon, Daenys could do both, but there was one she loved and another she liked. Being a Dragon rider was something that came easier than she thought and she had bonded with Seablade.

His dragon flame, cobalt. At first, she thought it would be the same temperature as the North's ice, a cold she never had the opportunity to feel, but Seablade's dragon flame was sizzling, a feeling she would withstand for a mere second before she took a step back.

The elder dragonkeeper brought forth a sheep, to the blue and black beast for her dragon lesson.

The acolyte dragonkeeper stood next to her, gripping a long staff that directed the dragon.  

As soon as Daenys violet eyes landed on Seablade's fiery orange, she commanded, "Seablade, Dracarys!"

She watched, smiling forming as the he-dragon's blue flame ripped from his throat, drawing shrieks from the sheep that met a toasty end, she cringed at the nose, nevertheless, she was proud that Seablade listened.

She grinned when he softly hissed, feeling her praise. The dragon had grown sufficiently fast, he could fly with swift motion but was not ready for mounting just yet.

"Māzīs naejot," she ordered and the dragon listened, agitated that the dragon keeper was standing so close. It was for Lady Daenys protection, he often repeated. Her gloved hand trailed over Seablade's scales, she could feel the fire flowing through his veins, "lykirī Seablade." The dragon leaned into her touch, purring and eyes slitting. "Has he been fed today?"

"Daor Milady," the elder dragon keeper answered.

Seablade followed her gaze to the sheep he just killed. Some flesh still clung to its bones, but the keepers threw raw meat on top that started to steam.

She smiled, before dropping her hand, taking a step back and commanding, "kisās Seablade."

Daenys eyes lit up when Seablade unlatched its jaw, and stalked over to the sheep, snapping its sharp fangs into the neck of the scarred animal and ripping the rest to bits with his black claws and then gulped back the meat.

Only a few moons until the dragon keepers believed Seablade would be large enough for the Lady Daenys to mount. Lady Laena instructed them to always have a saddle at the ready in case her eldest grew impatient and decided the he-dragon was ready now.

Blood dripped from Seablade's mouth as he finished his meal, and she nodded at the dragon keepers who went to guide him away.

"Geros ilas Seablade," with her eyes meeting his one last time, he begrudgingly let the dragon keepers take him.

She heard clapping from behind her, she turned to her father with glee twinkling in his eyes.

"My daughter the dragon rider."

"We've all ridden dragons, father."

Father... he had done something wrong. He let out a pronounced sigh and his patience already began to thin.

Daenys was far from the giddy child who hosted a tea and invited him to attend. Now, the weight of the world rested on her shoulders, and she smiled yes, giggled and laughed, her sisters and mother caused that more so than others, however, it was to be said that life in Pentos did not satisfy her anymore, it rather satisfied him but he had thought she was happy.

"You smell like a dragon," he'd been riding Caraxes. She could smell it on him.

"Caraxes is off sulking," he said, walking alongside his daughter, "and he isn't the only one."

She scoffed, "I don't sulk."

"But you dwell, if I'm not mistaken, you keep quiet when you're thinking the worst. What troubles you?" he watched as she used her teeth to pull off her gloves, making him suppress a smirk, "You can tell me Daenys."

He never said it outright, but he wanted his children to confide in him. He thought they could, Baela most definitely did, she was like his shadow. He was a hero to his second-born, one who took down the crab feeder, a military veteran.

"If I was without a dragon, would you cast me aside?" she asked, the question stopped their stroll.

"Cast you aside?" his eyes turned to slits.

"Like you do Rhaena," she voiced.

"I don't ignore my daughters."

"Then speak to her, spend time with her," she insisted, haunted by the tears streaming down Rhaena's face.

"I don't take orders from a nine-year-old,"

Daemon spoke with a harsh tone, one he never used on his children, until today, and though it startled her she tried not to react, instead, coiled her fingers into her palms, uncaring of how tight she clenched her hand.

"A nine-year-old with a dragon," she replied, matching his tone, "One who is your eldest child."

"I don't ignore Rhaena," he breathed out, harbouring guilt for both the accusation and his tone.

"You sound so convincing," she hummed, "Good day Father."

She left the Rogue Prince alone, and when she was out of sight, he let out an angry growl.

Caraxes, resting on the shores near the manse, raised his head. The Blood Wyrm could sense his rider's restlessness. He hissed silently.

Daemon Targaryen loved his daughters, but was that enough?

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a/n:

because baela is daemon's double i think he finds it easier to bond with her, and therefore daemon finds it harder to relate to rhaena, who ironically ends up being one of the last dragon riders. daenys was his first child so it's easier and he had more time with her before she started doing her own things, being comfortable without company.

you'll daenys will always prioritise her sisters, protect them because it's something she needs and must do, or she won't settle. i loved writing the scene with her and rhaena, rhaena looks up to her a lot, as does baela but for different things. don't forget there is a few years difference between them.

also, I read somewhere that they should've kept laena's teen actor the same similar to emily and millie and just changed her clothing and wigs to show her change over time since she was only twenty-six/ seven when she passed away. (i like the actress who portrayed adult laena) i just wish overall we had more time with them all.

guys i've started writing the second act and omg i've already drastically changed a lot of my original plans to keep up with the themes i've written into this book. can't wait for you guys to see it!