twin flames | daemon targaryen

fifty-four

Rhaella knew in her heart that something was wrong.

It went beyond the worry of a mother, of a wife, of a Queen. Something inside of her, something ancient, something all-knowing, knew. Something was wrong.

The new Queen of the Seven Kingdoms stood on the balcony of her and Daemon's shared chambers in the castle of High Tide, staring out at the waters of the Narrow Sea with a frown upon her lips. The sea salt-ridden breeze swept through her hair, tangling her white-golden curls and ruffling the dark fabric of her skirts.

Rhaella could hear the distant chirping and groaning of the dragons from the other side of the island where they nested on the dunes. Faint sounds of the Spice Town markets could be heard on the wind, the port town coming to life with the rising of the sun in the sky. Already, Rhaella could see ships coming from all directions to dock at the town Lord Corlys had founded, the economy of the island thankfully continuing to succeed in the face of everything that had happened.

The Targaryen woman's hand on the stone rail of the balcony was tight, her knuckles white with the effort with which she held onto the stone. The mother kept expecting to see the distant shape of Vermithor returning from the Stormlands each time she turned her head south, Silverwing from the North, and Caraxes and Darksmoke from the west.

It had only been three days since they had all left High Tide, ready to traverse the length of the Seven Kingdoms for her, for her claim, for their family. Yet, to Rhaella, it felt like an eternity. Worry had filled her at every moment since their departure. Worry for her husband, for her children, for what awaited them at their destinations, for what was yet to come as war struck House Targaryen.

"Please keep them safe," Rhaella whispered, her words lost in the breeze, her eyes closed as she prayed to whoever would listen. The language of her ancestors spilled from her lips, a desperate plea for those watching over her. "Please keep my daughters safe."

It had not been the plan for her two youngest daughters, her babies, to leave as well. Yet, when Elaena had quite literally run into Rhaella and Baelon that morning, her blue eyes wide with fear, haunted by the visions shown to her by the same gods who visited Rhaella's dreams, Rhaella knew.

None of her children had suffered as she had in her youth, none had ever experienced the horrors that had plagued her mind since she was but a babe. She and Daemon had been grateful to know their children escaped the burden Rhaella constantly carried. It seems they had celebrated too early.

Rhaella knew better than anyone that when the gods showed you what lay ahead, you had to listen. Whatever Elaena had seen, the nightmares she had endured the night before, it was important. Rhaella only wished that she could have asked Elaena what she had seen.

When she looked down at her daughter, taking in her fright and determination, it was like a voice emerged from her very soul, speaking through Rhaella. "Untamed fire burns bright in the storm. The lost son returns home. The east joins the west under a sky of no sun. The first retreats, the third sleeps, the second remains."

The words did not make sense to Rhaella as she spoke them, but the look Elaena had given her...Elaena knew what they meant. And so Rhaella made up her mind.

She let Elaena go, knowing that whatever task she had been given by the gods visiting her dreams was important. Rhaella did not know where her youngest daughter went, she could not guess what she had been shown. But, when Ser Matthias had run into Corlys's private solar hours later, reporting to them that both Elaena and Viserra had run off, the Cannibal and Valyx absent from their nests on the beach, Rhaella felt some relief for at least her daughters would not be alone.