𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓.

chapter 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧.

ᵈʳᵃᵍᵒⁿ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ

˖⁺‧₊˚🪽.° ༘

[ the rightful heir ]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡.

Rhaenyra had taken it upon herself to wrap her daughter in loin cloth, still clad in her bloody dress. Daemon had been a wreck. He had yet to look at his wife, wandering across the golden beaches as to try and tame his wild thoughts. The Rogue Prince was a cruel man, but when his children, his family, were taken into account, he was nothing but a protective father. 

As Rhaenyra cried, hunched over the table as she closed her eyes on her still child, Daemon had fallen to the sands, fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword as a single tear fell from his dull eyes.

Your hand was wrapped in Jace's as you stood on his side, your other hand resting atop little Joffrey's shoulder as you stared at the grieving parents ahead.

Daemon looked over at Rhaenyra as they watched the orange flames lick upon the small body of Visenya, his brows furrowed upon the look of pure dissociation on her face.

You glanced to the side, eyes widening at the sight of Ser Erryk walking up the hill. He nodded his head in greeting to you, and you reciprocated the action, watching as he made his way forward.

Daemon turned around as two guards unsheathed their swords, pointing it at the approaching Ser as he spoke, "I mean no harm, brothers." He took off his helmet whilst the soldiers lowered their weapons, and he stepped forward to the Rogue Prince, bending at the knee. Rhaenyra turned just as he reached into his satchel, revealing a silver and gold crown. "I swear to ward the Queen... with all my strength... and give my blood for hers. I shall take no wife... hold no lands... father no children. I shall guard her secrets... obey her commands... ride at her side and defend her name and honor."

Daemon held the crown with furrowed brows, thumb gracing over the Targaryen emblem made of light gold, the precious metal glinting in the hazy sunlight. He turned around, before slowly walking towards his wife. 

Rhaenyra felt the heavy crown settle upon her white-haired head as Daemon dipped to his knee, raising his chin to stare at her.

"My Queen."

Bowing his head, Rhaenyra looked towards the gathered company, watching with a shaking hands as everyone fell to the grassy floor, head bowed in reverence and respect. Her eyes washed over you and her children, watching as Jacaerys offered you his hand. You smiled softly at him, taking it with a squeeze and the skirt of your dress fell in a flurry of fabric as you kneeled for your queen. 

The rightful heir.

Rhaenyra had gathered herself, brushing her tangled locks and braiding her hair into a formal style with your gracious help. She walked through the halls of Dragonstone with her head held high as guards flanked her in protection.