Chapter Text
Chapter One:
Finally I See You Crystal Clear
ACT I: FIRE MADE FLESH
I've seen your face before my friend. But I don't know if you know who I am. Well, I was there and I saw what you did. I saw it with my own two eyes. So you can wipe off that grin, I know where you've been. It's all been a pack of lies.
Betrayal tastes so bitter on her tongue that her throat burns as if wildfire trickles down her throat. Rhaenyra’s lilac eyes glisten, her pale skin tinged with crimson from despair, confusion and anger that’s now seeping into her heart.
I intend to marry the Lady Alicent Hightower before spring’s end.
Rhaenyra can’t for the life of her make sense of what her father just announced. From the look of indignation in Lord Corlys’ face, he’s just as surprised as Rhaenyra is.
“This is an absurdity.” Lord Corlys’ voice is muffled by the racing thoughts screaming within Rhaenyra’s mind. “My House is Valyrian, the greatest power in the realm.”
Why would father say that? Why would he even pick Alicent?
The princess remembers talking to her father, she reluctantly agrees that he must remarry. Laena assured her that her reign as heir will not be contested. They have a plan. Rhaenyra remembers giving her father the blessing for his new marriage to Laena Velaryon.
But now he utters blasphemy to her face and spits right at her by claiming Alicent Hightower for himself.
From the corner of her eyes, she can see Otto Hightower’s treacherous smile.
Happy, aren’t you? Fucking cunt.
Rhaenyra can’t even muster to look at her father, she knows she will lunge at him and claw his eyes out of their sockets if she sees them. Oh, how she will delight in the sanctimonious screams of everyone present. But, instead, she looks at her—no, his Lady Hightower now.
There’s shame in Alicent’s eyes, Rhaenyra knows it all too well, she’s seen it after the very first time she leaned in to kiss Alicent when they were one and ten.
(It’s always you, you’re the only one I want. Just you, Rhaenyra.)
You liar—snake, you filthy fucking whore! I hate you.
Hate clouds her soft lilac eyes into vitriolic violets, shedding uncontrollable tears before she leaves the council without a word. Rhaenyra can hear her father yelling her name, calling out to her. She even hears Alicent but she doesn’t stop. She needs to get the fuck out of there or else she will burn them all.
Her feet take her to the only place she knows best, under the weirwood tree where her mother used to brush her hair in peace. The place where Rhaenyra and Alicent used to go whenever they wanted to run away from everyone else.
Oh, how it tastes so bitter, far too bitter than any wine that’s stained her tongue.
This one burns with a magma of malice full of venom and for a moment Rhaenyra thinks if she screamed, she would breathe dragon fire everywhere in this god-forsaken place.
“Rhaenyra— wait, please!” Alicent’s hurried, strangled voice catches up to her. She doesn’t want to turn and face her traitorous paramour—no, her friend? That doesn’t sound right either. Lover?
No, ex-lover.
“Get the fuck away from me!” Rhaenyra bellows, the sound grating hard against her throat as her violet eyes raged with a tempest like no other.
She didn’t want to meet Alicent’s eyes any more. “I have nothing to discuss with an omega whore the likes of you. Her ashes are still stored in his chambers, barely cold from Syrax’s fire. I’m still mourning my brother, and now you’re marrying the King to finally give him a son he’s killed my mother for.”
There is nothing to tame or calm Rhaenyra’s tumultuous temper, not a word or action is ever going to undo this betrayal.
“I fucking trusted you and all you did was betray me. He was supposed to wed Laena! How long… how fucking long were you seducing him for? How long have you been lying to my face?” Exasperation fills her voice, and the princess is nearly gasping for air, but Rhaenyra continues her tirade. “Were the nights you came into my bed seeking my warmth after or before you let him fuck you? Or did you seek my fingers first before you begged for his seed later?”
“Rhaenyra, please! It wasn’t like that! We never did anything unseemly, please you have to trust me!”
“Trust? I know you were always timid Alicent but you’ve never been a fool. But now it’s clear, now I see you for what you truly are. A conniving, traitorous cunt. You’re just like your father.” Rhaenyra spits the burning venom dripping off her lips. “Don’t ever speak of my name in your mouth ever again and ask me to trust you. Don’t ever seek me out, you no longer have a home in me, Hightower.”
The princess turns her heels and leaves behind a fiery destruction of what they once shared. She ignores all of Alicent’s wails and pleading cries of her name. Rhaenyra’s heart breaks into a million tiny pieces, but she wills her tears away yet they only fall harder.
This will be the last time she’ll hear Alicent utter her name for a long, long time.
Tears were flowing down her reddened cheeks, legs squirming, her hands buried against silky silver mane against the dark. Alicent moans her sins into the back of her hand, as the carnal sounds of Rhaenyra’s tongue sloshing and licking her warm heat fill the silence between them.
“Promise me you would never leave, Alicent. Everyone else has… I have no one but you. Promise me.”
Alicent cries, legs clinging tighter against Rhaenyra’s head as she wills herself to look down at her precious companion. She moans her vows to her. “I- I promise… never will I leave you. I’m yours, Rhaenyra. I’m yours- gods, only yours.”
When she arrives at the pit, the dragonkeepers try their best to prevent the princess from flying in such a condition. Rhaenyra heeds none of their words and the thundering roar of Syrax has all of them cowering before her.
She takes her dragon to the skies with such force that the ground cracks as Syrax gears herself for the flight. Rhaenyra’s eyes are swollen and red, tears staining her cheeks.
Only when she thinks she’s high enough into the clouds, far and above anyone to hear her does Rhaenyra Targaryen cackle into the air. A hysterical, but mournful laugh that only elicits the tears to fall once more.
She screams then, roaring the pain that’s pulsing in her chest as her heart breaks and breaks. Rhaenyra is unable to stop the torment, it throbs and it aches to the point that she’s choking on her tears.
Syrax mirrors her fury with the sound of her continuous booming roar.
Worthless. Pathetic! Why couldn’t you have been born a prince? Why? Why? Why?!
Her dragon squirms mid-air, and the chains that are wrapped around Syrax’s neck to bind her saddle rattle loud enough for Rhaenyra to hear. Her dragon can feel every emotion raging within her, and Rhaenyra knows it’s painful.
Too painful.
“I’m sorry.” The princess whispers before stroking Syrax’s warm scales under her calloused hand. She leans in before resting the side of her face on top of Syrax’s neck.
Rhaenyra listens as her dragon responds with a sombre song. Syrax’s low humming pitch reverberates and soon turns into melancholic shrills. It’s a sad tune that carries the thought running through her head right now.
There is no home for me here anymore.
The princess didn’t return with her dragon to the pit. Instead, she let Syrax roam free as she returned to her quarters for the night. Rhaenyra orders her guard that she doesn’t want to be disturbed by anyone, especially by Alicent, who has been looking for her all day.
But, Rhaenyra didn’t have to wait long. As the hour of the bat approaches, she sneaks out of her chambers through the secret tunnels her uncle once told her about. She reunites with Syrax just near the cliffside where they burned her mother and brother’s pyre. The princess and her dragon take to the skies with fire in their blood.
For once, Rhaenyra Targaryen doesn’t bother looking back.
There’s no one left in this city for me. No one is here for me.
Dragonstone is a quick flight on dragonback, her first destination before Driftmark. The guards and Maester Gerardys himself welcome the princess with caution, having no prior knowledge that the heir to the throne would be visiting.
“Take me to the royal armoury.” The princess tells Maester Gerardys who reluctantly but eventually complies.
There she finds what she has been looking for. Rhaenyra stands in absolute awe, her small frame still leagues away from ever filling the legend that’s before her.
“Queen Visenya’s armour remains intact and in pristine care all these years, princess. They say it was made of Valyrian magic, light and not heavy on the body.” Maester Gerardys says as Rhaenyra reaches in to touch the crimson sigil of her proud House. It is carefully engraved onto the pure obsidian-coloured breastplate.
“I’ve heard Daemon speak about this plenty of times. He once told me if he were born a woman, he would wear this to battle with as much pride.”
“Princess,” Maester Gerardys calls out, tone soft and gentle. Rhaenyra turns to face him this time, feeling the warmth emanating from the man. “If I may…” The maester continues but instead of words, he steps in closer to envelop Rhaenyra in his arms instead.
The heir is taken by surprise but she neither flinches nor pulls away, simply frozen in time as the walls crack a little just this once. Maester Gerardys is the man who helped bring her into this world, who cared and tended to her mother with all his devoted strength. Here in the fortress of Dragonstone, the frail Queen once took comfort and solace, giving birth unexpectedly to what would be the Realm’s Delight.
“I am deeply sorry for what happened, and I am sorry for not being there for you and the Queen.” Maester Gerardys tells her sincerely.
Rhaenyra says her thanks in kind, wiping away tears from her eyes as she averts her gaze. Her body goes rigid, clenching her fists as she hardens her heart once more. She knows the reward for her kindness is betrayal. Rhaenyra doesn’t think she can handle another one any more. Not from someone who looks at her with kindness in their eyes too.
The princess takes Queen Visenya’s armour, wearing it proudly despite how big it is on her body. She tells the kind maester to send a raven with her letter come morning to the King. She leaves Dragonstone with Maester Gerardys’ silent blessing.
Rhaenyra mounts Syrax with ease and with a thunderous roar, they leave Dragonstone to head for Driftmark.
At five and ten, defiant with blazing bravado and hurt in her eyes, Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys know better than to send the heir to the throne back to the Red Keep.
“For the love you once bore my mother, give me your blessing, cousin. I cannot go back to King's Landing, not like this, not when every ounce of my blood burns with malevolent violence.” Rhaenyra beseeches, and she knows Princess Rhaenys could not deny the flames that engulf her eyes.
Rhaenyra has always been a dragon, out of all the Targaryens left, she has always been the very embodiment of the word. “What my father did in that council not only disrespected your great House but also tarnished what should have been the joining of two Valyrian bloodlines. Yours and mine.”
The princess turns to Lord Corlys with conviction in her stance, as the rubies in Queen Visenya’s armour gleam against the light of the hearth.
“Let me use what little of my existence means for the realm. Let me make a name for myself, to earn this fucking world’s respect if I have to. Once the war is won and I return to my father’s city, I will join our Houses. I offer my hand to your son, Laenor. After the war, we shall wed, but should I perish before that, my father shouldn’t have any trouble creating a replacement for me now that he has taken another wife.”
They know King Viserys would be furious once he learns of this pact. But, Rhaenyra is adamant, her vehement fire surrounds Driftmark as if it’s already engulfed in dragon flames. Rhaenys relents but she knows every dragon must fly and breathe fire. They are never to be tamed, never to be caged or chained.
Princess Rhaenys gives her blessing and urges her husband as well. Rhaenyra is to join the war in the Stepstones, three dragons will be enough to finally conquer and set the Crabfeeder’s army into the flames, earning them their legacy and victory.
Lord Corlys agrees with pride and ambition shining in his eyes, and before the day breaks, the Velaryon fleet and army sail with Rhaenyra and Laenor on dragonback upon them.
The King’s fury will all be too late to catch Rhaenyra on Driftmark, his only heir has gone into war without his permission. The last living reminder of his late wife Aemma, is now gone.
“A letter with the princess’ seal was sent from Dragonstone, Your Grace.” Ser Harrold Westerling informs the King.
Reports say that the ailing King read his heir’s letter and could not help but weep. King Viserys, first of his name, is left in the Keep without the warmth of his previous wife and only child, with no family by his side apart from the Hightowers that now surround his court.
“Father, I’m no longer in the Keep if you’re reading this. I do not plan to return until the war is won and we’ve reclaimed what is ours in fire and blood. I will strive to bring glory to my name, to be your worthy heir. Do not worry about me, I have dragons by my side. Syrax will be with me at all times, mother will be too. Her Arryn blood runs through me just as strong.
But if news of my demise reaches you, do not mourn me. You have my blessing to make as many heirs with your Hightower bride, preferably one with a cock to satisfy the realm and their longing for a man to sit on your damned throne.
Signed,
The Queen Aemma’s daughter .”
It is three moons into the war when things begin to change. Rhaenyra’s aggression, her fire that’s deeply rooted in her blood grows hotter. There have been changes to her body too, her muscles are growing, and her height becomes a commanding stature to fill in the armour that once was too big for her body.
Daemon tells the princess that she is not allowed to join the fighting on the frontlines. Rhaenyra would be on her dragon breathing fire and far away from danger. But, the heir refuses and on more than one occasion she lands Syrax on the ground to fight the pirates alongside their army.
“You are a liability. You’re putting yourself and others at risk, and for what? You want to die that much, niece?”
“What I want, uncle, is to make a fucking name for myself. How could I do that if you’re breathing down my neck like a whore?” Rhaenyra scoffs as she holds back cursing her uncle’s name.
“You’re not a prince, Rhaenyra. You’re a girl, and you were never afforded any skills with a sword.”
“Then teach me or watch me die instead of running your mouth and commanding me what I should or should not do. Don’t treat me like a girl when I’m not asking you to.”
Scars and bruises mark her body, wounds that would take moons and a year to fully heal litter her once smooth skin. Rhaenyra’s hands harden, her grip growing more and more confident each time she swings a sword.
It is not until the last day of the third moon, right at the dead of the night that her presentation occurs. The Blood Wyrm is the first to roar in the air, sensing something terrible.
He’s shortly followed by Syrax’s thundering roars, as the golden dragon shoots up into the sky while Rhaenyra howls in pain inside her tent. Syrax claims the clouds and breathes her bright fire, waking everyone in the Stepstones.
It is Prince Daemon who rushes to his niece, followed by Ser Laenor who is the only other person allowed to touch the Princess. They restrain Rhaenyra as her transition wreaks havoc on her body.
It’s a full moon. Her blood boils and the Princess is no longer of mortal flesh, transforming into an otherworldly version of what she once was. Her bones break and fuse with the violence that builds and reshapes her insides, shattering Rhaenyra’s humanity as a terrible beast awakens.
An alpha. A female alpha of House Targaryen. The only other one to present since the infamous Queen Visenya Targaryen, sister wife to Aegon the Conqueror.
Daemon and Laenor witness the transformation of a princess to a demon. A look of both terror and awe surrounds the two men, unable to take their eyes away from the monstrosity of it all.
Reborn from dragonfire, Rhaenyra stands gleaming against the light of the moon with blood and ash covering her naked frame. The monstrous golden beast stands in front of the heir, eyes raging with fire and ready to devour every living thing Rhaenyra shall offer.
The princess’ first kill is brutal, to say the least. The ferocity of the violence, her eagerness for the destruction that lay embers of fire in her bones consumes her.
One of the pirates manages to catch Rhaenyra and tackle her to the ground. The man tries to choke her to death, but she fights her attacker with every force she has, managing the hunger of her alpha and transforming that into brute strength. She turns the tables, and soon she lands on top of him, hands gripping his throat.
All Rhaenyra sees is her father's face, the man who has stolen Alicent from her, and anger flashes before her beastly dark eyes.
The pirate starts to make a dry croaking noise, and the muscles beneath his skin start to contract at the sheer force of Rhaenyra’s hands. With a dying man's last strength and breath, he tries to push the princess, but to no avail. Instead, the alpha's claws rake through his flesh, tearing off strips of skin and muscle that leave deep trenches that run red with blood.
The princess plunges her Valyrian dagger against his neck in one swift motion, and a squeak falls from his blue lips, as the red veins in his eyes stretch like a growing root until they reach his iris. Blood starts to run down from his nose and stream through the corner of his eyes, his skin growing purple and crimson.
It is a grotesque sight to see a man drown in his blood, gurgling in horror underneath his murderer. But Rhaenyra rejoices as a geyser of arterial blood bathes her in glistening crimson before all resistance finally ceases. His puddle of blood forms around his nearly decapitated body, enclosing him in a trickling red cocoon.
“What are you doing, Rhaenyra?” Daemon grumbles as he violently pulls Rhaenyra away from the carcass.
The Rogue Prince tries to snap his niece out of her bloodlust by lunging at Rhaenyra, Dark Sister on his right hand. The female alpha is quick to return his violence. She arms herself with her sword this time and the clang of metal meets, the scratchy sound grating against one another.
“I’m savouring my kill. My first kill. I’m not going back there without a name for myself.” Rhaenyra answers him, teeth grit together, snarling. She pushes harder against Daemon’s sword, feet grounded as she asserts her strength.
“At this rate, the only name you'll make for yourself is Maegor the Second. Don't let your hatred for Alicent Hightower and your father turn you into a demon.” His words burn but not as hot as the fire that is bubbling inside Rhaenyra’s heart.
“Don’t. Don't say her name. Don’t ever say that fucking name ever again.”
Death and destruction follow after Rhaenyra is reborn through hellfire. Her bloodlust for war and violence comes with vengeance and venom. Daemon is forced to guide his niece despite the ensuing war. He trains her in the arts of the sword and how to temper her violent dominant alpha aggression.
He is, after all, the only other Targaryen alpha left to steer her in some form of stability. But for the first time in his life, Daemon has finally tasted fear upon the sight of Aemma's only daughter bathed in blood.
A raven is later sent to inform the King and his new Queen about the happenings in the Stepstones. The heir to the throne has presented and she is an alpha.
Two years and a half is how long it took to win the war. Daemon is on top of Caraxes flying expertly in the air, while Laenor is on Seasmoke as they both hail dragon fire on the enemies from above.
But, as reports reach King’s Landing, so does the tale of the mighty, unforgiving Butcher of the Stepstones. The accounts say that it is the fury of the golden monstrous beast that turned the tides of the war. Syrax grew into an unfathomable size after Rhaenyra’s transformation, an infernal dragon reborn from the depths of hell herself.
“As Ser Laenor Velaryon and I rained fire to the enemies from the sky, the cacophony of the ground splitting in half as the golden beast cracked the earth beneath its claws brought terror to the hearts of every pirate. It was a ghastly sight, bodies crushed into mush, heads cracked open under the beast’s claws, all while the Queen of the Narrow Sea dismounted with fury in her eyes.
Wearing Queen Visenya’s armour and wielding Dark Sister as her sword blade, a gift I proudly bestowed upon my niece, flames emerged from beneath her feet. Arrows were shot and deliberately hailed to target the princess but none were ever successful in their pursuit, melting before the fire of the monstrous beast behind her.
The princess challenged the Crabfeeder, taunting and humiliating t̶h̶e̶ ̶c̶u̶n̶t̶ (him) in front of his army to emerge from the caves he hid in. Craghas Drahar was forced to face the Princess’ wrath. They said that he underestimated the might of the Queen of the Narrow Sea, which cost him his head. It was Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen who delivered the final blow that ended the war in the Stepstones.
She emerges victorious, a pride of our House. Your heir. Your blood. She brings glory to our name like no one else. The princess and I will return to court and she vows to pledge her allegiance to her dear father.
She sends you all her love, my King.
Signed,
Prince Daemon of House Targaryen.”
They receive the letter from Daemon and Otto is tasked to read it in front of the council at the order of the King. The Hand could not hide the displeasure that stains his tongue. Alicent has bore the King a son, yet Viserys chooses to hold his tongue on naming Aegon his heir to the throne.
Now, with the news of the princess’ long-awaited return, Otto can see the pride and joy back in the King’s eyes once more.
“We will receive them with a hero's honour. Prepare the court and prepare for the arrival of my heir and my brother.”
The princess returns with indeed a heroic entrance. Ladies and lords of the court are stunned into silence by the new appearance of the princess.
The Queen—most of all—could not take her eyes off Rhaenyra Targaryen. The heir to the throne is still wearing Queen Visenya’s armour, those dragon scales make her shoulders look broader, muscular almost. Gone were the long soft silver-blonde locks Alicent used to comb every night. Rhaenyra’s hair is short, a wavy silver blonde that stops around her neck, hugging her face just right. And the heir wears a crown that fits that of a true Queen.
Rhaenyra walks tall with pride, almost sauntering like her uncle who follows before her. Alicent notes that Daemon has a similar-looking haircut as Rhaenyra too.
The Queen tries not to fidget, not to claw at her tender cuticles despite the anxiousness of watching the only person she craves finally come back to her. Alicent has to remind herself that Rhaenyra didn’t come back to her, especially not when she’s standing before this court as the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms—the King’s second wife, mother to Rhaenyra’s two half-siblings.
“Your Grace,” Rhaenyra’s voice is tender, utterly soft and almost singsong in the way she calls out to her father. There’s a smile on her lips, one that Alicent is all too familiar with. Rhaenyra smiles just like that whenever she used to catch her dearest friend doing something Rhaenyra shouldn’t be doing.
Queen Alicent couldn’t help the smile on her lips. Rhaenyra is back and she presents with a commanding confidence of a true alpha. Gods, she smells so good even from this distance. So strong… so warm. Alicent feels insane but the call of Rhaenyra’s alpha is palpable throughout the court.
“Add it to the chair.” Alicent hears the Princess say, and she hardly even recognises that one of the Kingsguard has their sword out as the heir pulled out a small axe to present to the King.
“You wear a crown, my child. Do you also call yourself Queen?” Alicent knows this is all for show. Viserys brushes off the blatant threat that’s standing before him. The King’s excitement to see his daughter is on par with how much the Queen missed Rhaenyra.
Alicent knows that Viserys does not see Rhaenyra as a threat, but the court wouldn’t stand to see the heir undermine the King, despite her presentation. Viserys still takes precedence.
The Queen watches as Rhaenyra clasp her hands together, a smile growing on her supple lips. “Once we smashed the Triarchy they named me Queen of the Narrow Sea. Uncle Daemon thought it clever, a fitting title for a true dragon heir who now carries Dark Sister as her blade and wears Queen Visenya’s armour with pride.” Alicent feels light-headed by how deep and powerful Rhaenyra’s voice sounds, words still lilting so smoothly, but it’s all too different an experience for her now.
Alicent feels heat crawling in the pit of her stomach. Shame floods her cheeks. She’s Viserys’ wife now, Rhaenyra’s stepmother and mother to Aegon and Helaena.
This childhood fancy must end, Alicent. You are to be the King’s bride. She remembers all too well her father’s words. Grief and shame taste so rancid on her tongue. By the Seven, she’s still yearning for Rhaenyra, the girl of six with bright lilac eyes that bewitched her so.
“But my dear uncle and I know that there is only one true sovereign. That is you, father.” Alicent witnesses as both Daemon and Rhaenyra kneel before her husband. It’s a practised show of loyalty and strength. A united House of Dragons.
Rhaenyra offers her crown of bones to the King and Alicent watches as Viserys’ lips twitch into a warm smile.
She can feel her father’s rage as she sees the Hand staring at the ordeal with schemes in his eyes. The King grabs the crown of bones and commands Rhaenyra and Daemon to rise. He stared at them for a brief moment before welcoming both Targaryens into his arms.
The court erupts into a wild applause, elated at the sight of the King reuniting with his heir and brother. Alicent can’t help but feel dread and envy surrounding her.
Dread because Rhaenyra is back and it’s clear from the way she hasn’t bothered to glance once at Alicent’s direction (even when the Queen is so blatantly pumping out her pheromones for Rhaenyra) that hatred runs deep with every bone in the princess’ body.
Alicent envies Viserys for he gets to hold Rhaenyra in such a warm and tight embrace, while she’s left with all the anger and blame.