Chapter 2

As Viserys sat in his chambers, meticulously working on his Valyrian model, his mind drifted to thoughts of his youngest brother, Jaehaerys. Tales of Jaehaerys's exploits as 'The Dragon Mage' had spread far and wide, reaching from Essos across the Narrow Sea. His war against slavery had resonated throughout the realm, earning him both admiration and fear in equal measure.

Viserys couldn't help but feel a pang of envy towards Jaehaerys, wishing at times that he were the one hailed as the hero of their family. Despite his own position as the firstborn son and heir to the throne, he admired Jaehaerys's unique blend of strength, cunning, and compassion. In many ways, Jaehaerys embodied the qualities that Viserys himself aspired to possess.

Lost in his contemplations, Viserys was jolted back to reality by a knock on the door, interrupting his thoughts and drawing his attention away from his Valyrian model.

"The Lady Alicent Hightower, Your Grace," Ser Ryam announced, ushering Alicent into Viserys's chambers. Viserys rose from his seat, acknowledging her presence with a nod of his head. "What is it, Alicent?" he inquired, curiosity flickering in his eyes as he gestured for her to take a seat.

Alicent entered, holding a book in her hands, her demeanor timid yet determined. "I came in to look into you, Your Grace. I brought a book," she explained softly, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

As Ser Ryam closed the door behind him, Viserys smiled warmly at Alicent's gesture. "That is very kind," he replied, genuine appreciation evident in his tone.

"It's a favorite of mine. I do know how passionate you are about the histories," Alicent continued as she took a seat across from Viserys, her gaze fixed on the Valyrian model that adorned his chambers.

Viserys nodded in acknowledgment, his attention divided between Alicent and his work. As he resumed sculpting the model, Alicent spoke again, her words carrying a weight of sincerity and vulnerability.

"When my mother died, people only ever spoke to me in riddles. All I wanted was for someone to say that they were sorry for what happened to me," she confessed, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness.

Viserys felt a pang of empathy at her words, his thoughts drifting back to his own grief and loss. The memory of his wife's death still lingered heavily in his heart, a wound that had yet to fully heal.

"I'm very sorry, Your Grace," Alicent offered, her apology a balm to his wounded soul.

Viserys nodded, gratitude shining in his eyes as he met Alicent's gaze. In that moment, he realized the significance of her presence and the comfort she had offered him in his time of need.

"Thank you, Alicent," he murmured softly, a sense of calm settling over him as he continued to work on his Valyrian model. In the midst of his grief and turmoil, Alicent's presence had brought him a measure of solace, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there was still light to be found in the kindness of others.

—

Rhaenyra walked over to the skull of Balerion, the Black Dread, a majestic shrine erected in honor of the fallen legend. The massive skull loomed before her, a testament to the power and might of the ancient dragon.

As she stood before the shrine, Rhaenyra couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and reverence wash over her. Balerion's skull was a favorite spot of hers since childhood, a place of quiet contemplation and solace amidst the chaos of courtly life.

In the presence of the legendary dragon's remains, Rhaenyra felt a connection to the past, to a time when dragons ruled the skies and the fate of kingdoms hung in the balance. It was a reminder of her family's legacy, of the Targaryen dynasty's enduring power and influence.

With a sense of reverence, Rhaenyra reached out to touch the weathered bone of Balerion's skull, feeling the weight of history and destiny pressing down upon her. In that moment, she knew that she walked among legends, and that the spirit of Balerion the Black Dread would forever live on in the hearts and minds of those who revered him.

As Rhaenyra approached her father, she couldn't help but feel a sense of curiosity and intrigue at his unusual display of fire manipulation. Targaryens were known for their affinity with dragons and fire, and it seemed that her father possessed some degree of fire resistance as well.

"Father," she spoke softly, her voice tinged with confusion as she tried to make sense of the situation.

Viserys paused in his movements, his hands hovering over the flames, before turning to face his daughter. His gaze was intense, filled with a mixture of solemnity and contemplation. "Balerion was the last living creature to have seen Old Valyria before the Doom, its greatness and its flaws," he explained, his voice carrying the weight of centuries of history.

Rhaenyra listened intently, her curiosity piqued by her father's words. She had always been fascinated by the dragons and the stories of their ancient origins. But when Viserys turned to her and posed his question, she found herself momentarily taken aback.

"When you look at the dragons, what do you see?" he asked, his gaze searching hers for an answer.

Rhaenyra's confusion deepened at her father's abrupt interruption. "What? You haven't spoken a word to me since Mother's and Baelon's funeral. Now you summon me here escorted by your Kingsguard..." she began, her voice tinged with frustration.

But Viserys cut her off, his tone firm and insistent. "Answer me. It's important. What do you see?" he pressed, his gaze unwavering as he sought his daughter's response.

Caught off guard by her father's intensity, Rhaenyra hesitated for a moment before gathering her thoughts. She looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of what he might be implying with his question. Then, with a sense of determination, she spoke.

"I suppose I see our family." She said, glancing toward her father; Viserys urged his daughter on. "Many believe us closer to gods than to men, but that is only because of our dragons. Without them, we are just like the rest of the people." She finished hesitantly.

Viserys nodded, acknowledging his daughter's words with a thoughtful expression. "Many believe us closer to gods than to men, but that is only because of our dragons," Rhaenyra continued, her gaze drifting toward her father as she spoke. "Without them, we are just like the rest of the people."

Viserys listened intently, his eyes reflecting a mixture of pride and sadness at his daughter's insight. He smiled as he looked at her.

"The Old King Jaehaerys asked my youngest brother the same thing." Viserys said, "Do you wish to know what he said?"

Viserys's mention of his youngest brother Jaehaerys piqued Rhaenyra's curiosity. Although she had only been a babe when Jaehaerys was exiled to Essos, she had heard tales of his legendary exploits over the years. The name "Dragon Mage" had become synonymous with courage and heroism, whispered in hushed tones across the realm.

Intrigued by her father's revelation, Rhaenyra couldn't help but feel a surge of curiosity. "What did Uncle Jaehaerys say?" she asked, her voice tinged with anticipation. She leaned in slightly, eager to hear the words of the legendary Dragon Mage and Breaker of Chains.

Viserys nodded, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips as he recalled his brother's words. "He said, 'I see wonder and power that we have to respect. I know my bond with Gaelithox. I do not have control, only a bond,'" Viserys repeated, his voice tinged with admiration for Jaehaerys's unwavering dedication to his dragon companion.

Rhaenyra's fascination with her youngest uncle and his legendary dragon companion deepened with each word spoken by her father. She could scarcely believe the tales she had heard of Gaelithox, the mighty dragon who had once been known as the Cannibal—a creature of such ferocity and power that it had struck fear into the hearts of even the bravest dragonlords.

But now, as she stood in the quiet solitude of the shrine, Rhaenyra found herself marveling at the bond that had formed between Jaehaerys and his steadfast companion. She imagined the two of them soaring through the skies of Essos, their spirits intertwined in a dance of fire and blood.

"He understood the true nature of their bond," Viserys continued, his gaze drifting toward the shrine of Balerion. "Jaehaerys may be far from home, but his spirit remains unbroken. He is a true Targaryen, bound by blood and fire, even in exile."

Viserys's words resonated deeply with Rhaenyra, stirring within her a newfound understanding of the true nature of dragons and their place in the world. She listened intently as her father spoke of the dangers of wielding such power, of the folly of believing that they could ever truly control the ancient beasts that had shaped the destiny of their house.

"The idea that we control the dragons is only an illusion," Viserys continued, his voice tinged with solemnity. "They're a power man should not have trifled with. One that brought Valyria its doom. If we don't mind our own histories, it will do the same to us."

Rhaenyra nodded in solemn agreement, her mind swirling with thoughts of the ancient mysteries and dangers that lurked within the hearts of dragons. She understood now that their power was not something to be taken lightly, but rather something to be respected and feared in equal measure.

As Viserys came to stand directly in front of her, his gaze piercing and intense, Rhaenyra felt a surge of determination coursing through her veins. She knew that as a Targaryen, she bore a responsibility to honor the legacy of her house and to safeguard the future of their realm.

"Targaryens must understand this to be King and Queen Consort," her father declared, his words echoing with the weight of centuries of tradition and duty.

Rhaenyra's heart skipped a beat as the weight of her father's words washed over her. She felt a surge of emotion welling up inside her, a mixture of surprise, gratitude, and a profound sense of belonging. She had never expected to hear such words from her father, never imagined that he held such sentiments within his heart.

"What?" she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, her eyes wide with disbelief. Viserys looked at her with a sad and regretful expression, his gaze filled with a depth of emotion that she had rarely seen in him before.

"I have wasted the years since your birth wanting for a son," Viserys confessed, his voice tinged with sorrow. "When the whole time, you and Jaehaerys have stood before me. You two are everything I wished in my successors, and in Jaehaerys, everything I ever wished I had in a son of my own. I see him as one, even if we are brothers. You and Jaehaerys are the best of our blood, our hope for the future."

"What? You want me to marry uncle Jaehaerys? And you're going to make him your heir?" Rhaenyra asked, half in shock.

Viserys met Rhaenyra's gaze with a solemn nod. "I understand it is sudden," he admitted, his voice tinged with regret. "But this way, Aemma's legacy is protected. I have seen how kind and loving a person Jaehaerys is. There is no one I would place more trust in to care for you than him."

As Rhaenyra struggled to comprehend the magnitude of her father's words, Viserys continued, his voice low and filled with resolve. "As for his exile, I've already sent him a message in Essos to come home. His exile is ended."

The weight of Viserys's declaration hung heavy in the air, a solemn testament to the bonds of family and the legacy of House Targaryen. And as Rhaenyra looked into her father's eyes, she knew that this decision, though unexpected, was made with love and a steadfast commitment to their family's future.

"I do have plans for the succession," Viserys said. "Daemon was not made to wear the crown. But I believe you two were." He looked at her with a smile. "This isn't a trivial gesture or a thought I had on a whim. A dragon saddle is one thing, but the Iron Throne is the most dangerous seat in the realm, Rhaenyra."

"There is something else that I need to tell you," Viserys began, his voice carrying a weight of solemnity. "Something I shared with your mother when I was made heir, something Jaehaerys already knows."

The mention of hrr mother stirred a pang of longing in Rhaenyra's heart. She exchanged a silent look with her father, sensing that whatever he was about to reveal held great significance.

"What I'm about to tell you both might be difficult to understand," Viserys continued, his gaze shifting to his daughter with a mixture of earnestness and compassion.

As Viserys spoke, his gaze drifted toward the imposing skull of Balerion, the Black Dread, a silent sentinel that bore witness to the grandeur and the downfall of House Targaryen. His words carried a weight of history and prophecy, weaving a tapestry of past and future that stretched across the ages.

"Our history tells us that Aegon looked across the shores of the Blackwater and saw a rich land ripe for the capture," Viserys continued, his voice tinged with reverence for the legendary conqueror. "But ambition alone is not what drove him to conquest. And just as Daenys foresaw the end of Valyria, Aegon foresaw the end of the world of men."

Viserys paused, his gaze turning to meet Rhaenyra's, seeking the reaction he had anticipated. And as he watched the emotions play across her face—awe, curiosity, and a hint of trepidation—he knew that she understood the gravity of his words, the weight of the legacy that had been entrusted to their family for generations to come.

As Viserys revealed the ancient prophecy, a shroud of solemnity descended upon the chamber, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air like a looming storm on the horizon. Rhaenyra listened intently, her heart gripped by the gravity of his revelation.

"It is, to begin with, a terrible winter," Viserys began, his voice somber and measured, "a gusting wind will come from it, and Aegon saw absolute darkness riding on those winds. Whatever is inside those winds will destroy the world of the living."

Viserys paused, allowing the weight of his words to sink in before continuing, "If our world is to survive, all of Westeros must stand united against it, and a Targaryen must be seated on the Iron Throne. It has been passed from heir to heir since Aegon's time. He called it 'A Song of Ice and Fire'."

He turned to Rhaenyra, his gaze unwavering, "I shared it with Aemma; she knew about it. Jaehaerys heard of it from the Old King Jaehaerys himself. As you will be his Queen Consort, I shared it with you. As you will share the burden together."

Viserys's expression softened with a pang of sorrow as he spoke of his late wife, Aemma. "I need you to promise me you protect this secret," he implored, his eyes searching hers for the assurance he sought.

"I promise father, as your daughter and future wife of King Jaehaerys." She said, her voice full of conviction.

Viserys nodded, a flicker of relief crossing his features at Rhaenyra's solemn vow. "Thank you, my dear," he said, his voice heavy with emotion. "This burden is not one to bear lightly, but I trust that you and Jaehaerys will carry it with the same courage and honor that has always defined our house."

With a sense of resolve settling over him, Viserys turned back to the skull of Balerion, the ancient dragon's presence a silent witness to the weighty secrets they now shared.

As they were about to leave the room, they stopped as they saw an inexplicable sight. Rhaenyra and Viserys exchanged stunned glances as a silver spectral dragon floated gracefully toward them, its ethereal form shimmering in the dim light of the chamber.

As the dragon spoke, it spoke in Jaehaerys's voice.

"Brother," the spectral dragon spoke in Jaehaerys's voice, "I have received your command to return. I will do as my king commands. Expect me by noon tomorrow."

Viserys nodded in acknowledgement, his heart swelling with pride at his youngest brother's unwavering loyalty. "Thank you, Jaehaerys," he said, his voice tinged with gratitude.

"What was that spectre, father?" Rhaenyra asked, her voice tinged with awe and curiosity.

Viserys smiled softly at his daughter's question, a glint of pride shining in his eyes. "That was no ordinary spectre, Rhaenyra," he explained, his tone gentle yet filled with a sense of wonder. "That was what Jaehaerys calls a 'Patronus', a guardian spirit made of hope and love. Jaehaerys would use it as method reaching out to us as a young boy. It seems my youngest brother wastes no time in heeding my call."

Rhaenyra listened intently, her curiosity piqued by her father's explanation. The concept of a Patronus was unfamiliar to her, but she couldn't deny the sense of hope and reassurance that washed over her at the sight of the spectral dragon. "So Jaehaerys is truly coming home," she murmured, a smile spreading across her face. "I can't wait to meet him."

Viserys returned her smile, a warmth spreading in his chest at the prospect of their family being reunited once more. "Indeed, Rhaenyra," he replied, his voice tinged with excitement. "It will be a joyous occasion for us all." With a final glance at the spectral dragon, he led his daughter out of the chamber, their hearts filled with anticipation for the homecoming of Jaehaerys, the Dragon Mage.

---

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