Bronze She-Dragon

Chapter 23: Insecure

YEAR 130 AC

As soon as the sunlight had hit Daena's eyelids, she opened her eyes slowly, stretching in her bed. The softness of the sheet against her skin made her lips curl into a small sleepy smile. The bed wasn't as crowded as it was at night anymore: the children had long woken up and were taken away to get dressed and break their fasts. As Daena's eyes grew a bit more alert, she noticed Aegon, now lying right next to her, still asleep. His face looked very peaceful, and the Targaryen lady hadn't seen him that way in a very long time. The man wasn't fully recovered: his skin was still healing, and the pains didn't seem to go away that fast. However, he made peace with it, it seemed. Moreover, his escape from King's Landing must have been much harder to tolerate in many different ways: the King hadn't shared anything about it with Daena yet, but the woman was sensible enough to imagine the hardships. And now that Aegon's face, as he was sleeping next to his beloved, reflected absolute tranquility, it made a smile appear subtly bigger on Daena's tired face. She moved slightly closer to him, gently pressing her lips against his cheek. A quiet sound of a soft kiss was enough to wake Aegon up, for he was a very sensitive sleeper: his eyelids lifted slowly, and a gentle smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, lighting his face up with a slight bit of warmth.

"Good morning..." He whispered, his voice raspy.

Daena's eyes were focused on his: what a price she would've paid to stay in that moment forever. These brief moments of happiness were so rare and, therefore so valuable to her.

"Have you rested well, dear?" The woman stroked his dry lips with the tips of her fingers.

Aegon only nodded, reaching out to Daena with his arm and swiftly wrapping it around her waist. They stayed like that for quite a long time: none of them had any desire to leave that warm bed and be massacred by the mercilessness of their duties. However, they talked: talked about Aegon's escape, Aemond's successes in riverlands, about Daena's battle. As Daena shared her first-ever experience in war, Aegon couldn't help but purse his lips in a disapproving expression.

"You ignored my wish. Completely ignored it, and your victory over Syrax doesn't compensate for that." He muttered, touching Daena's forehead with his dry lips.

"I had to, Aegon. You know that." The silver-haired lady sighed. "I had to protect my King and our mother... Even if it cost me my life. Luckily, it did not-"

She wasn't able to finish the sentence as she was interrupted by her brother.

"You would've made a fine Queen, Daena."

That instant Daena fell silent, lifting her head slightly so that her eyes met Aegon's.

"And I would've made you one, hadn't you married Aemond." The King whispered.

"I have no interest in being a Queen." She spoke quietly. "And what I did... I did it for you, not for the realm. I am... Too selfish to claim a title that noble and selfless."

Aegon held Daena slightly tighter with his arm, as the words left his lips:

"Once we take Dragonstone, you will be treated like my Queen, for you are one in anything but a title. Were I Aegon the Conquerer, you would be both Visenya and Rhaenys to me... And once we take our seat in the residence of our mighty ancestors, we will conquer Seven Kingdoms anew, if so is needed."

Daena listened to every word of Aegon's so carefully, not letting a single one slide. And suddenly, something very curious occurred to her: these words made her feel the way she had never felt before... It was an awakening of her own ambition. The one she always hid in the dark coffers of her soul, the one she always denied having. What if... She wanted to be a queen? Perhaps, she wanted the power after all? The way she felt on Vermitor's back, as his teeth sank deeply into Syrax's throat, was not merely rage and misery. It was also a strength, an immense one, the one that can bring a person above everyone else... What if Daena lied to herself this whole time? Perhaps, this was her true self? Aemond, her husband, was forged that way, so what makes his wife different from him? Not much, the lady trusted. Daena was a Targaryen, after all, and Targaryen's blood, the blood of dragons, ran thick in her veins.