Nightmare

Chapter 13

Dragonstone, 126 AC

The 23rd year of King Viserys the Peaceful's rule

_

She'd practically given birth to a band of wildlings.

Daenys remembered her grandmother, the Good Queen Alysanne, talking to her about raising children. "You will be a mother one day," said Alysanne, smiling down at Daenys as she carried her to bed after a long day holding court with Jaehaerys, watching curiously from his lap as he addressed matters of importance. "You will find your children to be as wild as you and your brother, when they are small. But, mostly, they will calm down. Even your mother gave me less of a constant fright as she grew."

This had not proven at all true for her own children. Ten years ought to have been enough time for them to understand there was a time and place for games. Yet, it seemed, the lack of the public gaze did more for encouraging adventure than snuffing out ideas of mischief.

Daenys had been sitting with Rolf having breakfast by her balcony when a dragon swooped past. Then another. Then another. Then another. Below, she heard her youngest son shouting, "ALMOST THERE!"

"By all the gods," said Rolf, peeking over. He leapt back as the dragons swooped back down, the white in the lead, followed by the black, the green, and the blue. They heard Alyssa's resounding shout of approval, followed by Cliff's huff of indignation.

Daenys leaned onto the stone railing, smiling as the dragons circled about until they were each able to land. The four beasts had thrived here, growing rapidly with the openness of Dragonstone. There was sea in every direction, large fields of grass, caves to explore, and ships that would bring them livestock for the dragons and cooks. If it were up to her, she'd never see them confined in a Dragonpit again.

Time had flown, her children having lost the sweet little faces that used to giggle up at her and beg to be carried. They walked on their own now. Aenar and Alyssa were tall for their age of three-and-ten, her daughter flowered and growing more beautiful by the year, as content in dresses as she was in her dragon riding frock, while her son's voice had begun to change, the beginning of some light whiskers growing over the top of his lip.

Alyssa remained as temperamental as she'd been when she was a little girl. She often acted before she thought, but Aenar was always there to rein her in if she was getting carried away. He was wise and mature for his age, finding himself most at home observing people and calculating before he spoke. He was a good listener, and resembled Otto more and more with each passing year. Daenys knew that as soon as his mustache and beard had finished growing, the similarities would be undeniable.

Still, they thought themselves young, much to her pleasure. Aenar still expected a goodnight kiss from both his parents each night, while Alyssa constantly came to Rolf to receive her heart's every desire, pleased that her father could not deny her anything once she gave him those sweet puppy eyes.

Cliff was twelve, but he seemed to think himself brave as a boy of sixteen. He let his hair grow out, and still came to Daenys so she might braid it elaborately as if he were off to battle each time he rode Goldhorn, perhaps the creature who most understood her adventurous little boy. She knew he was planning a bit of mischief whenever his green eye glowed particularly bright in the morning.

He was an able archer and loved to hunt with Rolf when they visited the Kingswood or the Stormlands. He was certainly the better sword between him and Aenar, quickly progressing under Daenys's tutelage. She dared to think he was better than Daemon had been at his age, though Cliff had always been much more respectful... except for the moments where he and Alyssa schemed to prank the others. Then, all courtesies flew out the window.