The Rightful King [ HELAENA TARGARYEN ]

𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚗

The morning sun bathed the training yard in a warm glow as Rhaegon Targaryen entered, his senses sharpening at the familiar scent of sweat and steel. Memories of his childhood training alongside the younger soldiers learning and mastering his craft. His father and uncle had been the first mentor he learned his craft. The clinking of swords and the grunts of exertion echoed through the air, a symphony of discipline and strength. Though newly crowned and newly-wed, Rhaegon knew that the demands of the throne included not just politics but also the skill and might to defend it—now with possible threat that would contest his reign.

He joined the knights and soldiers in their drills, the familiar rhythm of training a welcome respire from the endless string of diplomatic duties. Rhaegon was simply moving, no need to truly think of anything else. Among the men was his Uncle and brother-in-law, Daemon Targaryen, his presence commanding and confident as ever. Daemon's eyes gleamed with mischief as he saw Rhaegon, and a smirk played on his lips.

Rhaegon has yet to have a proper conversation with the man since his return, he knew that his sister had ensured her husband stirred away from Rhaegon during the celebration. Everyone knew as much, and he was all the more certain they took part in ensuring his wedding would not be ruined just because of it.

"Well, if it isn't the prodigal son," Daemon called out, his voice dripping with sarcasm and a venom that Rhaegon knew all too well. "Decided to finally grace us with your presence after parading your rule and your sham of a wedding, have you?"

Rhaegon's jaw tightened as he looked down at his Uncle, but he kept his expression neutral. He had learned early on that it was best to not engage in his provoking. "I've always believed in staying sharp, Uncle."

Daemon's smirk widened. "Of course. But one must wonder, why return to the fold now? Was it convenient for you to reclaim the crown?"

The taunt stung, no one truly knew the reason for his departure and he would prefer to keep it that way, but Rhaegon refused to rise to the bait. "I returned to end a war and restore peace to your family and the realm. Something you and my sister seemed to have a hard time accomplishing in my absence."

"Peace?" Daemon laughed, his tone mocking. "Or power?"

Rhaegon's eyes narrowed. "I have no desire for power for the power's sake, Daemon. You of all people should know that. I have allowed you the chance to stake your claim but you consistently failed to prove yourself."

Without warning, Daemon tossed a sword to Rhaegon, who caught it instinctively. The training yard fell silent, the tension palpable. All the resentment between Uncle and nephew for everyone to see. The sparring match began, the clang of metal against metal ringing through the air.

Daemon fought with a fierce intensity that Rhaegon knew all too well. He was once a firm but just teacher to Rhaegon, but in this moment he was nothing but an opponent whose mission was to hurt him. Daemon's movement was fluid and aggressive. Rhaego countered with the same precision and strength, his mind focused on the task at hand and he used his height difference to his advantage. The onlookers watched in rapt attention, the stakes of this match higher than any they had seen in training before.