⸻ ( Rhaenyra Targaryen )
He looks at her with love, so much love that it terrifies him. It terrifies him what he will do for her.
( house of the dragon ) • 2022
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110 AC
EVER since he could remember, there was always Rhaenyra.
She was the ever-present sun that would rise in the east and set in the west. The moon that hung in the sky to keep him company in the long dark nights. The stars that he would trace and learn the hidden secrets of the world. She was the air he breathed and the blood that ran through his veins. Her smile would chase away the deepest shadows that haunted him.
When his mother had disappeared, he had still been a babe and could not even remember her face. His father had been too heartbroken to talk about her and it was Rhaenyra who had filled the spaces of his memory. So when she did return after five long years, he felt that he had known her all along.
Baelor thought that he must have been born under a lucky star. He had heard how his mother had almost been assassinated right before he was born. There had to be a god that was smiling down on him, blessing him with their golden grace. He had a family that loved him and a girl that was his entire world.
It didn't matter that he was a Targaryen without the silver-gold hair of their ancestry like his younger siblings—he had Stark blood after all. And he still had the same violet-hued eyes that his father bestowed him. He was made of ice and fire. He had both a dragon and a direwolf.
When his mother returned to Winterfell with the great hulking beast beside her, made of snow and frost and ice, he instantly bonded with her. She in turn would follow his footsteps and his command. Frostfyre had hatched in his crib and had been strong enough for Baelor to ride when he was six. Chosen by Rhaenyra herself, he adored his dragon of icy blue.
As Baelor lay underneath the weirwood tree, recalling everything that he had to give thanks for, his heart felt full and content settled across his skin like the golden warm rays of the sun. The breeze rustled his hair across his face as his eyes were closed against the daylight. Then he felt soft fingers trailing along his cheek and there was the scent of amyris in the air.
He opened his eyes to exquisite lavender, silvery gold hair cascading onto his chest. Her rose-pink lips curved at the edges and he couldn't help but smile himself. She was a vision of beauty, a goddess of Old Valyria reborn anew.
"How are you so pretty?" he asked her. A light blush bloomed across her cheeks and she pulled away with a half-suppressed grin.
Baelor pushed himself up on an elbow, turning on his side to look at her. He watched as she placed a plate of lemon cakes on her lap and bit into one daintily. Sköll lifted her head lazily beside them before falling back to sleep.
"You don't need to charm me," Rhaenyra said, "we are already betrothed anyway."
He grinned slyly. "I would do it anyway even if we weren't."
