The Great Khalessi (GoT Fanfic)

11 - When the Sun Sets

The sun dipped low in the sky, casting an orange hue across the water. The smell of smoke lingered in the air, mingling with the salty sea breeze. Half of the soldiers had perished, their lives snuffed out in the brutal clash. Thankfully, only a few civilians had been caught in the crossfire. The survivors moved about the ship in silence, avoiding eye contact, their faces etched with the weariness of battle and the weight of unspoken horrors.

Some of the soldiers had suggested tossing the bodies of their enemies into the sea, a fitting end for those who had brought death and destruction. The idea of burning them had been dismissed—such an honor was reserved for those deserving of a grand burial. But Rhaenys had nightmares. Nightmares that the Mountain would rise again, a grotesque giant zombie, coming back to haunt her. She had insisted to burn the bodies, to ensure he would never return.

Elia had agreed, her heart heavy with concern for her daughter. They had gathered the corpses, placing them on the ship they had seized from the enemy. The flames had been lit at dawn, and now, as the day wore on, the fire still raged. Rhaenys stood by her mother's side, her small figure silhouetted against the inferno. She hadn't moved since the pyre was lit, her eyes fixed on the flames until the boat was consumed, sinking into the depths of the sea.

"Are you okay, Rhaenys?" Elia asked softly, her voice thick with worry. She placed a gentle hand on her daughter's shoulder, but Rhaenys didn't flinch, her gaze unwavering.

"I'm fine, Mother," Rhaenys replied, her tone calm and distant, as if she were far away. She turned to look at Elia, her eyes dark with a maturity that seemed far too old for her years. "I'll go check on Aegon. You should discuss your plans with Uncle Oberyn."

As Rhaenys walked away, Elia watched her, her heart aching. Oberyn approached, his expression somber. He glanced at the burning boat, then turned to his sister.

"It will take another ten days before we reach Dorne," Oberyn began, trying to focus on the practicalities. "Luckily, none of our supplies were damaged in the fight. But we cannot afford to stop at any ports. We'll have to sail nonstop."

Elia nodded absently, her mind still on Rhaenys. "Brother, I'm worried about Rhaenys," she confided, her voice trembling.

Oberyn frowned, looking back at the girl who was now tending to her younger brother. "Why? She seems to be handling things well enough," he observed, noting how Rhaenys moved with purpose, helping the commoners and caring for Aegon with quiet efficiency.

"That's what worries me," Elia said, her voice barely above a whisper. "She acts as if everything is perfectly fine, but what happened must have been terrifying for her. She's just a child, but she keeps it all inside, like she's afraid to show any weakness."

"Indeed, she reminds me, actually of a certain little girl I used to play with in the past," he said, gently nudging her with his elbow. "someone who never lets others see her cry."

Elia managed a weak smile. Her gaze fixed on the horizon. Her hands clenched the railing, knuckles white as she fought to keep her composure. She had faced violence before and was no stranger to the cruel nature of some people.

The weight of her position as Rhaegar's chosen wife had made her a target for those who sought to advance their own daughters to the role of future queen. But despite the threats and malice directed her way, Elia had always remained steadfast, choosing the path of peace and refusing to stoop to the cruel tactics of others.

The attempted assault on her had not left her with trauma; she had endured it with the same resilience that defined every princess from the House Martell. What truly weighed on her now was her daughter. She knew Rhaenys was not ignorant of the world's cruelties—she was a Targaryen, after all, exposed to horrors despite Elia's best efforts to shield her. But this latest experience, the brutality her daughter had witnessed, gnawed at Elia's heart. She feared it had left a deep scar on her daughter's young mind.