There were two babes in the Tower of Joy.
Two babes tied so closely to their parents, Ned had to make the decision.
One with hair like raven feathers, eyes as grey as steel, and a face of a true Stark. The other, with hair like moonlight, eyes lik...
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Dragonstone was a beauty to behold, even from far away. It wasn't like the rich expensive pyramids of Meereen, it was old - far older than she expected with sharp angles jutting into the sky. It was simplistic from the outside, designed to keep the Targaryens safe from the bitter winds that battered the island.
The dragons soared above them, the four of them speeding ahead to race to the free land. Rhaegal and Leirion toyed with one another as they went, circling each other and Rhaenys and Viserion struggled to keep up. The four descended upon the stronghold, circling the tallest tower in the sky as they went - a sight that hadn't been seen in hundreds of years.
As it grew closer, the fortress only grew taller, almost piercing the sky with dangerous points jutting every so often from the dark grey walls. Rhaenar had never felt so far from Westeros yet so close at the same time, the excitement building within her chest. Her first taste of Westeros, returning to the shores she had once been dropped off in.
It was fitting, a small boat was carrying them across, with each row of the Unsullieds arms, the sand grew closer to their feet. No longer was she the bastard babe, now, she would be a Queen. The boat dug within the thickness of the sand, running deep within the grains as it came to a halt on the beach.
Rhaenar's indigo eyes flittered around, taking in the jagged cliff edges, shaded in reds and greys and yellows. It made her seem so small, so insignificant on the Targaryen homeland. Small steps were set out for them, Rhaenar breathing deeply as she took the first step down, and then the next. Heeled boots dug within the wet sand, crunching beneath as she moved forward, feeling the cool sun on her face.
Aegon trailed behind her, his own midnight eyes absorbing it all as memories of his own birth here echoed through his mind. She almost couldn't believe it. Rhaenar faltered, dropping to her knees as she felt the sand beneath her. The cold water rushed up from being trapped within the granules, her hand pulling away, the soft flecks clinging to her flesh. It was real, all of it.
She was home. For the first time since she was young, she was home. Her chest swelled, shoulders rising as she stood once more, determination filling her steps as Rhaenar made her way to the gates. Stairs littered their way up, worn slightly from years of use but still held together with the magic of her ancestors.
Cutting through tall slopes of sharp stone, they came to the large gates, two giant wooden doors standing between herself and Dragonstone as two carved dragon heads the size of humans guarded them. Rhaenar hesitated as two Unsullied walked forward, pushing the doors open.
