Ruin Me

Chapter Three

The twins had been close to their mother, yes, but, while Rhaenyra was undoubtedly the apple of their father's eye, Daenyra's solace came from the woman who gave them life. Yes, she had given her daughter advice about childbearing and what it would be like when she had to do it in the coming years, but often times their conversations were similar to that of Rhaenyra and Alicent, court gossip. It was perhaps the easiest way to take her mother's mind off the babes that were growing inside her that she was worried she would always lose. Daenyra's mother was her whole world and now, she would be forced to endure that world and the harsh realities of life without someone to guide her.

Daenyra felt like someone was strangling her as she was forced to don a black gown and stand on a seaside cliff before the two funeral pyres. Two. One for her mother, and one for the brother that lived only a few hours before he did not. Daenyra would never forget how cruel the gods seemed that day, nor the empty feeling within her chest that was seeming to swallow her whole.

Myrrax and Syrax sat beside each other on the pile of boulders on the edge of the cliff, Syrax dwarfed by the other dragon's massive size.

No one seemed to move as they simply stared at the pyre, of what was to never be.

Rhaenyra's face was sullen and splotchy with red patches as salt water trailed down her face. She, once again, stood between her father and her twin, the line of succession had they not been born girls. Daenyra was the one who seemed to sway on her feet, her knees wanting for nothing more than to give out and let her weight crash to the ground, but she refused to let herself be weak in this moment. She had long since promised her mother that she would always remain strong in the eyes of the people, and she was not about to break her promise. She had also promised another person, a knight, that her mask would always remain on, that they would never see inside her pain.

Even from behind, even when both girls had their hair styled exactly the same, Daemon could always tell which one was younger, which one was Daenyra. Two of his fingers dared rest on her back as he stood behind the twins, the contact, even through their layers of warm clothing, seemed to spark some life back into her. Daenyra found herself craving for his whole hand to rest on her back, and mayhaps the contact would pull her back from this smothered, half-alive state.

"They are waiting for you," Daemon whispered to them both.

"I wonder, that if in those few hours my brother lived, my father finally found happiness," Rhaenyra spoke to their uncle and something in those words had Daenyra leaning more into her uncle's touch, wanting someone to hold her up when her sister would never be able to realise that yes, their father always wanted an heir but he had one. He had Rhaenyra and she would always be his favourite daughter. And try as she might, Daenyra could never hate her twin for it. It simply broke her heart that her sister would never be able to see what Daenyra saw.

"Your father needs you," Daemon spoke, the wind pulling at their silver hair and trying to blow it away. "Both of you. More now than he ever has."

"I will never be a son," Rhaenyra said sadly before she looked at her twin who had a much more pained expression in her eyes than Daenyra did. "Together?" she asked and Daenyra could not find it in herself to deny her, not when they were standing before their mother's fallen body.

"Together," Daenyra spoke as she took her sister's hand, and they stepped forward.

Rhaenyra gave their father one last glance, the man unmoving in his grief. She turned to Syrax and bellowed, "Dracarys!"

Syrax looked up at the bigger dragon who seemed to hold her under his wing as he waited for his own command. The two dragons were always as close to each other as their riders were as Syrax obeyed Myrrax's command rather than Rhaenyra's.