child of troy,
born to mighty Priam and stoic Hecuba,
can you feel fires soft breath
tracing your bloodstream?
prophet girl,
chosen by the sun,
do you hear the gods whispering
those silent stardust words?
cursed daughter,
uttering insanities no...
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Rhaenyra Targaryen had never considered herself particularly religious before. She never had a solid reason to have a continued faith. Sometimes she liked to believe that the Stranger took care of her mother. Now she hoped Laena was in the embrace of the Stranger with care.
But as she watched her daughter, her nine year old girl, her first born, fall to the floor with a bleeding head, she begged the Stranger not to take her daughter. It was not her time. It was not her time to go. Rhaenyra would give her own life and the life of everyone in the room before she would allow her girl to be taken away.
It had panicked her to see Luke's bleeding nose. It had panicked her to see young Baela and Rhaena so shaken in the arms of Rhaenys. It had panicked her to see Alysanne's bloody face, red hair.
This was more than panic.
This was gripping fire in her throat. This was fear from the pits of her stomach. It was the clouding of her mind, the stopping of her heart. Her own bleeding cut became nothing. Rhaenyra's knees barked in abrupt pain as she dropped to the ground next to Alysanne, heaving her small body into her arms.
Alysanne was so small like this. She was pale, tinged red hair. A child. Rhaenyra's child. Her eye was blackened. As Rhaenyra held Alysanne to her, her head lolled to the side, completely unaware of the outside world. Rhaenyra couldn't feel her lips moving, calling for Maester Kelvyn to come help Alysanne.
"We must get the Princess to a bed." The maester proclaimed.
Rhaenyra couldn't bear the thought of someone else lifting her daughter, her firstborn, and carrying her to bed where she could perish. Stranger, please allow my girl back to me. It is not her time. It is not her time. Stranger, help the Maester prevent my daughter from finding your embrace.
So it was left up to her. She picked Alysanne's small figure up. Rhaenyra's arm screamed in pain as it responded to the shock of Alysanne's body rubbing against it.
She carried her through the Hall of Nine, straight to her guests chambers. The maester had taken a detour, finding his way to his supply room before arriving for the Princess.
Rhaenyra felt as if she could breathe fire upon Aemond and Alicent. Aemond was her brother, half-brother, easily influenced by Alicent's persistent hate. Mayhaps it would just need to be Alicent Rhaenyra needed to get rid of. Her hate, unkindness, bullying tactics had led her son to believe it was okay for him to assault the heir to the Iron Throne
No longer did Rhaenyra wish to sue for peace for the sake of the king. The king, who was her father, before he was Alicent's husband.
"Mother?" Jacaerys asked, trying to hold his eyes away from his sisters unconscious body. He'd done this. He provoked Aemond, brought the blade, encouraged Baela and Rhaena.
"Jace." She'd forgotten she had other children. For two years it had only been Rhaenyra and Alysanne. Two entire years of them bonding before Jacaerys, Lucerys or Joffrey was even thought of. Two years of Laenor and Rhaenyra treating Princess Alysanne Velaryon to everything she wished and more as a baby. "Would you go get your sister another set of night clothes?"
