THE LUCKY ONES; house of the dragon

chapter 6

[act one; chapter six     -     the strangers touch]

Ten years later

    He was determined not to be bested by this. He would not. He refused. He was three-and-ten, he should be able to hold his own in a fight. A training fight, nonetheless.

    Braedon Targaryen picked up his sword and held it high, parallel with his chest, and looked his mother in the eyes.

    Rhaella Targaryen, she went by now, after all this time, grinned at her eldest child, at her boy. She had aged, surely, but not much had changed. New crevices and lines had joined those on her face, brought on by constant laughter and smiles, created by the joy of the life that she lived. Two-and-eight years, she had lived. And what a great many joys those years had been.

    "Come now, Braedon, you have first move. But remember, your opposite may strike you with surprise. You will not always have such a planned first blow." She would teach him just as she had been taught by her father. She may be a woman, sure, but she knew how to fight. And she would ensure that her children could do the same.

    From the side of the courtyard, sitting on the ground in a pile of pink silks and laces, Alysanne shouts, "Be a man, Brae, or Mama will beat you!"

    Braedon picks up a pebble and launches her way, watching in content as it lands on her knee, causing her to let out a shout of pain or, perhaps, pure annoyance. He turns back to their mother, raising his sword once more as she does just the same.

    "Plant your feet firmly, then strike," Rhaella directs, holding her sword with only one hand.

    And then he does. Swinging in a wide arc, just as she taught him, he allowed his sword to meet hers head on, the sound of metal clashing against metal surrounding them entirely.

    "Mummy!"

    Braedon placed his blade to the side, watching as his mother did the same, turning on her heel, her long hair swaying around her hips, and finding her eyes drifting to one of the large arches leading to the courtyard where Aethan entered, dragging Naeyra with him, their hands tightly connected.

    Rhaella smoothed her hands across the fabric of her dress, her attention turning to the two children, watching as one led the other. Aethan seemed his same calm personna as always, while Naeyra, though it was not uncommon, seemed to have a haze following after her.

    She immediately made her way to her mother's side, releasing her elder brother, and clutched onto Rhaella's skirts, eyes, fogged yet clear, searching for something more. Her eyes searching her mother's.

    "What did you see, darling?"

    "Ravens...ravens crossing the sea with messages. Murmurs." The words fell from the girl's mouth in riddles, pieced together clumsily. She grasped her mothers waist, trying to convince her of her words and visions. "The Stranger will claim the dying man and ravens will take to the sky."