ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋ ꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ - House of the Dragon

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Grandmother Rhaenys knew something.

She had not taken her violet eyes off me since I entered the King's bedchambers, right after I had woken up in a labyrinth of silver hair and arms and legs. It was truly a surprise, to see I had been the first one in abandoning my sleep.

At some point during the night, uncle Aegon had sneaked under the blankets as well, completely undoing the bed yet remaining at our feet. I had woken up slightly choking him with my leg right at his throat, yet he did not care, too busy on his dream to even notice the sudden weight on his neck. Helaena had twisted and turned as if a nightmare drowned her sleep, and had ended up with her forehead pressed against my back and her arm tightly around my waist. Aemond, on his back as he always ended whenever we slept together, had an arm under my head, grabbing hold of Helaena's hair as if he thought it was my own, and he had a leg over the end of the bed and the other bent in between mine.

I had a rough time trying to sneak out of the bed without waking them all, barely breathing and slightly smiling as my aunt clutched to her second older brother by some instinct. I hoped she rested, and that she would not freak out if she woke up to Aemond's arms tightly around her.

She was right about something though, Aegon snored like a pig. And I had to cover my mouth with my fist when Aemond roughly kicked him with his foot almost unconsciously, gaining a groan and some nonsense from the oldest. I didn't know if Aemond was trying to push him out of the bed, but knowing my cyclops he probably was.

"Are they treating you well?"

Another surprise, to see my grandmother in my grandsire's bedchambers. Or in the Keep at all. I had expected she would return to her husband, to assist him on his wounds, but I had also expected either my mother or Daemon would leave a black hand around in case something went wrong. In the back of my head, I had almost believed it would be Daemon himself. But I was glad it was Rhaenys.

She had not shown any signs she knew, but I sensed it on her eyes so similar to my own. Genes, I supposed. Even when Laenor was not my true father, Rhaenys was a Targaryen for her father's side, and so was I for my mother's. Little or not, we shared blood.

My grandmother sat with her legs crossed over one another, a black and dark blue gown that reminded me of the top garment that belonged to Laenor and she gifted me for my nameday, and her black hair free of any ties. She looked younger, though she had deep, purple bags under her eyes. That didn't mean her irises weren't shining with that rogue glow so similar to my stepfather's.

"I feel very much welcomed, yes."

She raised an insightful, perfectly brushed eyebrow, and I had to hold back a chuckle when she significantly bowed her head.

We had shared the morn meal, doing our best to not flinch whenever my grandsire groaned and begged for his milk of the poppy, and ignoring the smell of rotten flesh coming from his bed. She spoke about Lord Corlys and his recovery, emphasizing in his possible death as if he wasn't her lord husband, and shared her concerns about Luke and his future as Lord of the Tides. She knew he would be great, she had said, but Lucerys was a boy of four-and-ten. He had a lot to learn, specially sailing related, and he needed to stop getting seasick the sooner the better.

Rhaena worried her as well. A dragonless Targaryen. I had to remind her, that didn't make her less dragonrider.

"She is from the blood of the dragon." I said, eyeing the replica of Old Valyria my grandsire spent most his days carving before his illness forbade him to. It was very much detailed, traced with delicate forms and manners that invited you to get lost in them. Though spiderweb had invaded mostly every small building or corner, that didn't make it any less beautiful. "Rhaena will have a mount, it's her destiny."