The Heir of the Dragon: A Rhaenyra Targaryen Quest

---

Father's model of Valyria had noticably grown since you last saw it. Several buildings have been finished while he had a new block of stone standing to the side that was beginning to be shaped into a sizable addition to the model. You also noticed bits of black hair among the finished sections.

"Ahh, yes, it seems Johanna's cats quite enjoy the model," your father said. "Particularly the black one. I was worried at first, but they're surprisingly careful."

"Really?" you said with unmasked surprised. "Because that black cat is quite territorial from what I've seen. How is the queen faring?" the question came out of obligation more than anything. You couldn't bring yourself to visit her, but it felt rude to just pretend she wasn't there.

"Oh, she's recovering quite well," your father nodded. "She's been in high spirits since the twins were born."

"That's good," you finished lamely, but your mind was already on other matters. "Did you get the notes I made about my visit to the Wall?"

You had written up a summary of your visit while you were waiting for your knighthood, figuring it best to get everything down onto parchment before the details shifted in your mind.

"I did. Quite informative, and concerning," he noted. "It's worrying that so much land is going to waste, but I think Lord Umber is overreaching. I'd be loathe to so easily undo my grandmother's hard work."

"That is quite understandable," you replied.

"Of course, it would pointless to even bring this up to the Small Council for some time," your father went on as he sanded the side of an unfinished building. "Attempting any reforms to the Night's Watch during Winter would be nothing short of madness."

"I must say I'm quite pleased you took your trip to the Wall so seriously, few would- ah," you father winced slightly as he shifted in his seat, clutching at his disfigured hand.

A nearby Maester, Orwyle quickly rushed to his side and began fussing over your father like he was a newborn.

"I'm fine," he quickly insisted. "Just a brief pain. It's nothing."

You twisted the rings on your fingers as you stood there. The moment a stark reminder of one of the two reasons you had come to speak to him today.

"Father," you said, speaking more like you were preparing a speech then talking to your father. "When I left, you had nine fingers and said you were on the road to recovery. I return home, earlier than expected mind you, to find you with eight fingers and looking no closer to being well again."

"Things have gone slower than I would have liked," your father's tone was dismissive. "But the Grand Maester assures me that was due to stress. Because of the pregnancy," he added quickly. "Now that Johanna has made it through fine, the Grand Maester insists the leeches should finally clear up the worst of it."

Orywyle glanced at you for a moment, his face full of nervous apprehension. There was something he desperately wanted to say, but lacked the courage to speak it.

"Father, I've heard this all before. the Grand Maester's efforts-" you began.

"Will work this time," he insisted. "Rhaenyra. Your concern is touching, but rest assured, I am through the worst of it. My warrior days may be behind, but I promise you, your old man will be with you for many more years."

There was a smile on his face and warmth in his voice, yet you knew if you pressed the matter there would be a fight and that was not what you had come here for. And you had little knowledge to base your concerns in. Perhaps the Grand Maester had the right of it. Your father had been under quite a bit of strain these past few months. His second wife had been pregnant and no one had any way of knowing just how Johanna would handle it. Then there was the fact you had been on your own for the first time in your life. The was the trial and the tourney. All that must have added a considerable amount of stress as well.

You quickly pushed the thought aside. You were not going to let yourself feel guilty for what you did during your progress. The trial may have been a rushed decision, but you had been all but forced into a corner by that man's speech. And you had nothing to regret when it came to the tourney. You couldn't control what your father felt and you were not going to let it stop you from doing what you had to.

Your mind quickly turned to another topic. Annoyingly, it was far from a happy one too.

You needed to tell him about Harrenhal. If there was anyone in this world who would believe you right now when it came to your dream, it was your father. The man who entrusted you with the knowledge of Aegon's prophecy, who knew the stories of Daenys the Dreamer.

Your gaze shifted nervously to the maester.

"Father," you began. "There's something else I wish to discuss with you. In private."

Your father motioned for the maester to leave.

"Of course," Orywyle said as quickly made his departure, though you noticed his gaze lingering on you as you left.

Viserys eyed you curiously as you sat down besides him. You exhaled deeply as you prepared for what you were going to say. It felt like insanity to actually say this out loud, but what happened that night simply would not leave your mind.

"The first night in Harrenhal, I had a dream," you began. "A dream more intense and more real then anything I had experienced before or since."

The moment you mentioned a dream, your father stopped working on his model and focused all his attention on you.

"At first I thought a dragon was attacking my door," you explained. "Then I found myself chasing a woman through Harrenhal, past a distant burning battlefield and into the Godswood, the trees choking out the moonlight. All of it felt so real and there were these things lurking in the trees."

You breathed in again, steadying yourself as best you could.

"I came to the heart tree to find the woman standing there, storms filling the sky. And then two dragons and their riders dueled above the Gods Eye, their roars joined by what sounded like every other dragon alive. All the dragons, roaring at once."

Your father's eyes went wide at your words, starring at you in clear disbelief.

"All of the dragons," he said carefully, "at once?"

"Yes father, I'm sure of it," you nodded. "The woman said the dragons would dance as been written since the doom and all I could do was add my own thread to the weave. She also said I will find death in the God's Eye. Father, this woman had two different colored eyes and claw shaped birthmark on her cheek."

You choose not to mention Alys Rivers or your strange encounter with her. You didn't think you needed to hide her, but you also didn't think she was connected to your vision, and you didn't want your father blaming the vision on the brew she gave you.

Viserys sat there in silence for a long moment, starring at his model as he drank deeply from a cup of wine.

"This was months before Johanna's daughters were even born," you pressed. "She said I named her, and I was the one to suggest Aelora to Johanna."

"When you were young, during that brief time where I was heir, I had dream one night. As real as you or I," your father began, tears welling in his eyes. "I saw a son, my son, sitting upon the Iron Throne, crowned with the Conqueror's crown, the lords of Westeros hailing him as all the dragons roared at once."

Your chest tightened at his words, a brief twitch of fear in your hands.

"Night after night I tried to recapture that dream, to experience it again. I so desperately wanted to be a dreamer, like Aegon was," your father confessed bitterly. "It never came back, and my obsession with it killed you mother. And I sit here, with three children, and no sons to my name."

"I...I don't understand," you struggled with your words, unsure of what to think. "Why didn't ever tell me of this?"

"I was, I am, ashamed of what I had done. Grief had all but consumed me," he explained tearfully. "I was worried if I told you of my mistake I would only make things harder for you. But I don't want to see you repeat my mistakes either."

"Mistake?" you spat the word out with disgust. "Your dream killed her!"

"I know," your father said bitterly. "Seven hells, Rhaenyra, there is not a single day that goes by where I am not constantly reminded of that. I should have given up years ago, should have been happy with what I had. The three of us had all a family could ever want and I ruined it."

Tears stained the stone in front of him. Your anger began to fade. Anything else you could have said wouldn't have hurt him anymore than he was already hurting himself.

"Which is why I urge you to be very careful with this dream," your father went on. "Don't stake too much importance on something that could just be folly."

"But mine's not folly. I saw Aelora," you pressed. "A woman grown but the same features as the babe Johanna is holding as we speak."

"And I don't doubt that," your father replied wearily, "but I would not take everything in it to heart. Perhaps my dream was as real as yours, and it was your son I saw on that throne, or maybe even you. I can't say anymore. All I know is I have no son, and even if Johanna gives me one, they will not sit the Iron Throne."

"Our family was built by dreams though. You said it yourself, Aegon's conquest was started by one," you argued. "I can't just ignore what I saw."

"It is a contradiction I have been struggling with since the day you became heir," he admitted. "I believe in Aegon's dream. My grandfather spoke of it with such conviction. Just as his sister had when she told him of the prophecy early in his reign. And she told him that the importance of the dream was one of the few things their father was ever firm about. There must have been something in that dream, something that filled Aegon with more conviction and certainty then I have ever had."

He pondered the situation for a moment.

"Do you know with any certainty what she meant when she spoke of Dragon's dancing?" your father questioned pointedly. "And when she spoke of finding death in God's Eye, who's death was it? Yours or someone else?"

"I...I don't know," you stuttered. "I could barely make sense of anything she said."

In truth, very little of that night was definite in your mind. Aelora was all too painfully real, that was certain. But you had no idea what battle was being fought, or even who was fighting over the lake. You saw white-gold hair, but beyond that everything about the riders and even their dragons was vague and shifting. You didn't know much about dreams, how much of them was metaphor and how much was supposed to be the naked truth.

"Harrrenhal is a cursed place," Viserys said before taking another long drink of wine. "There is every chance what you saw was distorted by the memories of that place, or perhaps there were layers to it that neither of us understand and this dance is not a physical conflict but something else."

There was another bout of silence as he stared longingly at the model city before him.

"The scholar in my heart wants you to do nothing more than pursue this as far as you can, do what you can to make sense of this dream, uncover it's truth if there is any. Meanwhile the grieving widower begs you to never think of that night again," he said contemplatively. "I will ask you not mention this to Johanna, or anyone else. It will just create more trouble. Beyond that I will say, if you wish to pursue this any further, I won't stop you. I simply urge you to not let it become an obsession. Don't let it ruin you like my dream did me."

"I... I won't father," you spoke after a long moment. "I promise."

You saw all too well the grief his dream had given your father, and yet, at the same time, you still needed answers. Still needed to make that night into something you could vaguely comprehend.

"Life and the crown will one day give you much to worry about," your father said warmly. "Do not burden yourself further by worrying about one dream and a bit of bad health. You have a full life ahead of you. Enjoy your youth while it lasts."

You nodded and left your father's room. His words had left you with even more questions than you came in with, but the weight on your shoulders had lessened just a bit. You weren't going to forget about the dream, if you lived until you were eighty you probably would still remember it, but you weren't going to let it become an obsession. Your father had impressed the dangers of that quite clearly.

That night, your sleep was not entirely peaceful, but you no longer found yourself worrying over Harrenhal.

Your Relationship with Viserys Has Improved.

Your Conversation with Viserys has Given You Some Peace of Mind.
And Cost Viserys Some of His.

---

You waited several weeks to bring up the topic of marriage with your father. Thankfully, by the time you asked him to speak with you after a Small Council meeting, his mood had improved considerably compared to your last serious conversation. Even if his healthstill seemed the same.

It felt strange turning to your father for advice when you very much wanted this to be your decision, not his, and when faced with his own marriage, you had specifically avoided influencing him beyond doing your best to keep Alicent out of it.

But at the same time, you knew your father would reward your honesty then with honest advice now, and he was probably the only person you could talk to who was only biased in your favor. That wasn't to say there wasn't anything to gain from talking to Rhaenys, Otto, Gwayne or Harwin, far from it in fact, but you felt it was important to talk to someone who was on your side first and foremost before talking to anyone else.

You found yourself drumming your fingers nervously on the back of a small council chair. You did not look forward to this talk, but it had to happen.

"I've been giving some more thoughts to marriage prospects," you announced as your father looked at you from his chair, "and I was wondering if I could ask you for advice on some of my suitors."

Your father's eyes went wide in surprise.

"Really?" he said, sounding both off-guard and pleased. "I must say I did not think you would have taken action on that matter so soon. You've never shown much interest in marriage."

"I do not want to rush into marriage," you said quickly. "But I do very much want a say in the matter and it seemed foolish to not prepare for something this important."

Your father smiled broadly.

"It's good to see you taking this seriously, Rhaenyra," he said warmly. "Though if it was a say you wanted, it would have been best to search out options while you were on progress. You would have had your pick of almost every unmarried man in the realm."

"No," you shook your head. "I would have had every man in the realm treating me like some prize to be won or a fine cut of meat to be fought over. It would been an unbearable cattle show."

"If you say so," the king brushed the idea aside. "I don't want to pressure you into a match you do not seek, but this is important."

"I know. I need a husband to strengthen my claim, provide me with heirs and powerful allies," you said mechanically with a hint of weariness.

"That is important, yes," he nodded. "But there's more than that. Marriage. Family. It changes you. Completes you. I loved your mother. She made a man of me. Without her, I would have been a much different man, a much different king. I wish for you to have what I have, to be happy and contented."

"I want that as well," your reply was earnest, your father's words appealing to your more romantic sensibilities. "But I look around and I'm not sure there's any man who could give me what you had with mother."

You didn't speak it, but your relationship with Alicent weighed heavily on your mind. You would not say you were in love with her yet, but the passion between you seemed to be growing stronger by the day and you didn't see it ending anytime soon. How could you balance romantic feelings for a husband with your feelings for Alicent without offending either?

"For some, love happens in moments. For others, it takes time," your father assured you. "Family has a way of changing you for the better in ways you would never have expected."

You had never really pictured yourself with a family. The idea of having children at all had terrified you for years now. It still terrified you to some extent. You had no idea what it would be like to have someone you had to raise, someone who looked up to you and turned to you for guidance. While the thought sent shivers down your spine, you could see your father's point.

"Now, what prospects have you been looking at?" he asked curiously.

"So far, there are four men who have caught my attention," you declared, "Qoren Martell, Gwayne Hightower, Harwin Strong and Laenor Velayron."

"Gwayne?" the king questioned. "Otto's son? Now, that's quite the surprise. What drew you to him?"

"We got along fairly well on the progress and he's generally been quite honest with me," you said truthfully but tactfully. "And he provided me with some quite good advice while we were on the Eyrie. Advice that gave me a lot of comfort. Not to mention he's already someone I can trust considering he owes his role in the city watch to me. And as a son of a second son, I know any children we have would bear my name without question."

"To say nothing of your friendship with Alicent," your father added. "Marrying into a family you are already friendly with does have it's advantages."

"Yes, I quite agree," you were stone faced, doing your best to avoid any reaction to his reference to your 'friendship' with Alicent. After that moment in your room you could hardly call it just a friendship anymore.

"Well, that does explain your interest in Gwayne," your father nodded. "That would be quite a strong marriage for you. Though I must admit I am also quite pleased to see you haven't dismissed the Dornish Prince out of hand. I know it's a drastic option, but I think it could be a wonderful adventure for both our family and the realm."

"I read his letter to you," you replied. "I must confess it's very refreshing to see a man praise my prowess and treat it with full respect. His letter didn't say I was strong for a woman, he said I was a fierce warrior who few in Dorne could match. I'm not really used to that sort of praise from men, save for Ser Tarly."

You had to admit that beyond the political prospects, it was great to see a man you didn't even know speak of you with praise.

"Good, wonderful even," your father's expression grew brighter. "These are the kinds of things a close marriage is built on."

"Of course, you realize a Martell marriage would not be popular with the realm," you added.

"Yes, there will be pushback against the marriage from the Dornish Marches, but I can handle that," your father assured you. "And negotiations will not doubt make us want to shove our heads into a roaring hearth, but if we could make it work... This would be a pivotal moment not just for you and I, but for the realm as a whole. The time when old wounds were finally healed and the realm became truly united."

The prospect was appealing to you. The chance to unify the realm, have all of Dorne at your side. You'd establish yourself as a powerful political force in Westeros before you became queen, even before you held a spot on the council. But risky, oh so very risky.

"What are your thoughts on Ser Harwin and Laenor?" you asked.

"Breakbones would be a fine match," your father nodded. "His house would strengthen you considerably and I must say the man seemed quite fond of you. His father seems a bit skeptical of such a marriage though. You would have to speak with him to figure out why."

Now that did confuse you. What sort of lord wouldn't want their son to be married to the future ruler of the Seven Kingdoms? Who would balk at such power and influence?

"As for Laenor Velayron," your father leaned back in his chair, his gaze briefly turning to the ceiling. "In terms of strength, few prospects are better for your position than the son of Rhaenys Targaryen. But after Corlys disgraced himself in his last conversation with you, I am not sure he would even be interested in such a marriage."

"So, which of the four do you like?" you asked. "It seemed to me you were more favorable towards Qoren and Gwayne."

"All of four have their merits," your father pushed back. "And this is your decision. For now, I am simply giving my thoughts. Now, we haven't even entered winter yet, so you have plenty of time before spring. That said, any marriage could require considerable lengthy negotiations, none more so than the Prince of Dorne. So, even if you don't want to get married for years it may be best to start negotiations now. We could invite Qoren here for it, or we could start talks with one of the others."

You gripped the chair tightly. Marrying anytime soon made you deeply uneasy. However he was right that negotiations would take a while. And if you talked with them now you'd have more time to see what terms any of them were willing to consider. Your father might have been the one doing the negotiations, but for the moment you had every right to refuse if they didn't give you the terms they wanted.

With Corlys out in the Stepstones, the most your father would be able to do is send a letter to Rhaenys expressing interest. That should have been enough to draw Lord Corlys back to Driftmark, and if it wasn't, then well you knew the Velayrons weren't interested in a marriage.

And even if you didn't end up marrying the man, inviting Qoren to King's Landing would give you a chance to see what this man was like for yourself. Though it would probably make things quite tense in the Red Keep. No doubt Ser Tarly would be clawing at the walls.

What Do You Do? (Will Take Place Next Turn)

[] Invite Prince Qoren Martell to King's Landing

[] Have Your Father Begin Negotiations with Otto Hightower

[] Have Your Father Begin Negotiations with Lyonel Strong

[] Have Your Father Write to Rhaenys Targaryen

[] Do Nothing For Now.

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QM's Note: To clarify, this is not committing to any route yet. Let me be very clear on that since I suspect this vote might get testy. One of the advantages of starting so early is you do have a chance to feel out the options better.