BLACK SHADOWS [HOTD]

1. we were happy back then

year 103 ac

"Father, look! It is cracking, isn't it?" Rhaelena could barely fight the excitement boiling in her voice, as her eyes were glued to a small dark line corrupting the seamless vermillion surface of her dragon egg, resting peacefully in the hatching pot.

Having a dragon of her own was all she ever wanted. After all, what makes a Targaryen truly Targaryen? What makes them, Valyrian descendants with lavender eyes and lavish mops of silver hair, any different from other noble lords of the realm? Their dragons. It was the epitome of their power, the craving of their ancient blood, the reminder of their supremacy to all the Westerosi nobles and common folk. Many words of such magnificence would pour out of Prince Viserys's lips like fine Dornish wine, yet none of them occupied the thoughts of two Targaryen princesses at the time. They were only but six summers old, so having a dragon was no more entertaining to them than having a kitten purring on their lap. While many would see the dragon as a dreadful weapon to bring vengeance on undesirables, the Targaryen twins merely wanted new friends to bond with and practice a few hundred words in High Valyrian shoved down their throats by the meticulous maesters.

Every other day either young Princess Rhaenyra or young Princess Rhaelena, sometimes both of them, were pulling the sleeves of their sire and the skirts of their mother to take them to the Dragonpit. How many times Lady Aemma lectured her twins on the virtue of patience and acceptance mattered not - every single morning would start with the cacophony of endless whining and pleas. "Our observations would not make the eggs hatch faster," the daughter of Lord Arryn kept stating with her kind voice, as sweet as floral honey, yet her morals would fall deaf to the girls' ears.

"I believe..." Prince Viserys leaned into the dragon's egg, his gaze carefully exploring the surface. "Yes, sweet girl, it is indeed a crack." A genuine smile tugged across his face, making his short mustache turn into, the way Rhaenyra called it, silly arcs.

Rhaelena's face instantly blossomed, her cheeks acquiring the color of the prettiest Highgarden roses. The excitement seemed to be overflowing her body, almost pouring out of her ears, as she jumped on her spot, clapping her hands loud enough for the echo to spread across the whole gigantic room the hatching pots were kept in.

"What of mine? Can you take a look at mine, father?" Rhaenyra didn't seem to be sharing her twin sister's joy. Indeed, deep down she was happy for Rhaelena, but the subtle shadows of jealousy slowly crept into her mind, causing her to inquire about her own egg instead of giving her sister an embrace of bliss and support.

This was the tendency of their relationship. Whenever Rhaenyra got something Rhaelena didn't, the second one would keep throwing tantrums until the very moment she received what she deserved (or believed she deserved). Whenever Rhaelena succeeded at something Rhaenyra simply couldn't match, she would show her fangs by locking her twin sister out of their shared bedroom and antagonizing the whole court. At times the conflicts were so severe that the princesses were summoned by the old and frail King Jaehaerys to preach them. The slowly perishing old man was never truly upset with their behavior: the demeanors of his great-granddaughters pulled the invisible strings on his daunted heart. The silver hair and cheerful smile of young Princess Rhaenyra brought him back to the times when his little Daenerys would beg him to stay with her at night and read her countless books. The braids of Princess Rhaelena, the color of dirty gold, and her nose with a little bump that scrunched in annoyance every time she was told off reminded him of his brave Alyssa, one of the most stubborn yet the purest daughters he had and lost. And while right after the audience with the King both Rhaenyra and Rhaelena felt bad enough to subside their misbehavior for a certain time, it never lasted too long, and soon enough things would go back to the way they always were.