Chapter 55 - A Promise of Vengeance

124 AC

The twentieth day of the tenth moon

Rhaena Pov

The clash of our swords echoed through the training yard, and my opponent, Lucerys the bastard, came at me with a force I could barely parry. I tried my best to hold my ground, but his strikes were relentless. One particularly powerful blow knocked me off balance, sending me stumbling to the side. As I raised my guard again, I realized I couldn't see his next attack coming from my right side, and by the time I registered it, it was too late. I lost the exchange.

Lucerys wore a smug grin, believing he had proven his superiority over me. The frustration and anger welled up inside me, and I had an overwhelming urge to rip his head from his body.

"You should focus on more womanly activities, the path of a warrior is not meant for you, especially with your eye," he taunted with a malicious sneer.

Only Nettles' firm grip on my arm prevented me from lunging at him and giving him the thrashing he deserved. The master of arms shouted something in the background, but my rage drowned out his words as I stormed away from the training grounds.

I seethed with indignation as I retreated to the solitude of my chambers. Lucerys's words stung like a thousand needles.

"I am going to gut the bastard right in front of the bastard's whore of a mother," I seethed, my anger boiling over.

"Oii, shut the fuck up," Nettles snapped, her tone firm and unyielding.

"You will do no such thing. The fat bitch is going to be the next queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and you are just angry," she said, trying to reason with me.

"Having a dragon is what I need to earn their respect; they will fucking fear me," I declared, the desire for power surging through my veins.

Nettles looked at me with concern, her voice calm but firm. "Your father is searching for a dragon, Rhaena. You need to calm down and be patient."

I scoffed, my fury unabated. "I don't want just any dragon egg," I spat, my eyes ablaze with determination. "I need a full-grown dragon, a creature capable of bringing Vhagar fucking down," I said, imagining the satisfaction of seeing Aemond fall by my dragon's fiery wrath.

"I will take my revenge for my eye," I continued, clenching my fist and pressing it against the scar that marred my face, a constant reminder of my vulnerability.

Nettles moved closer, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "I understand your pain, Rhaena, but seeking revenge won't heal your wounds," she said with genuine concern.

I took a deep breath, trying to quell the turmoil raging inside me. "I know, but it will make me fucking happy," I admitted, my voice tinged with bitterness.

Before nettles could say something there w as a knock on the door. A servant came and told me that my father was expecting me in the chamber of the painted table.

As I reached the chamber, my heart pounded loudly in my chest, echoing the tension that hung in the air like a heavy storm cloud. There, gathered before me, stood my father, his stern expression etched with concern, and my sister, Baela, who shot me a fleeting glance filled with worry. My grandmother, with her commanding presence, surveyed the room with a calculating eye, and the strong bastards along with their whore of a mother were present as well.

To add to the unease, the dragonkeepers were also present, their watchful eyes fixated on the dragon eggs that rested atop the ornate dais. The room seemed to grow smaller as the weight of the moment bore down upon us all.

Father's voice broke the heavy silence, but it carried an unmistakable tension. "Rhaena, we need to talk," he said, his tone measured but firm.

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my nerves as I met his gaze. "Of course, Father," I replied, my voice betraying a hint of nervousness.

He motioned for me to stand beside him, and I obediently took my place, feeling the scrutiny of everyone in the room. My sister offered me a subtle reassuring smile, but it did little to ease the knots in my stomach.

As I stood there, I couldn't help but notice the subtle glances exchanged between the strong bastards and their mother, who appeared confident and composed despite the charged atmosphere. Their allegiance to her only served to heighten my unease.

The dragonkeepers, usually a quiet and composed lot, seemed on edge as well, perhaps sensing the mounting tension in the room. Their presence near the precious dragon eggs only added to the gravity of the situation. I could almost feel the latent power emanating from those eggs, a reminder of the strength that lay dormant within them.

My grandmother, usually a pillar of wisdom, wore a slightly furrowed brow.

"Rhaena, my daughter, as I promised, I have procured dragon eggs for you, which are sure to hatch," my father said, his voice laced with anticipation.

"I don't want them," I retorted, my frustration boiling over.

"What?" Father's expression shifted from excitement to confusion.

"I want a grown dragon, and I cannot wait for a dragon to hatch and then grow up—God knows how long that will take!" I snapped, my impatience clear in my voice.

"We have decided that taming a dragon will be tough for you, Rhaena. That is why it's better for you to wait and bond with a hatchling that will come out from the egg," the fat bitch interjected, her condescending tone grating on my nerves.

Hearing her speak, I felt my anger surge to a new level. My fists clenched at my sides, and I could feel the fire within me burning hotter with each passing second.

Noticing my rising anger, Grandmother stepped in between us, her imposing figure radiating authority. "What about Silverwing, Daemon?" she said, addressing my father.

"She is a docile dragon and will be the safest option," she added, her words dripping with arrogance.

I sneered at the suggestion, my patience wearing thin. "Safest option? I don't want safe! I want a dragon that can strike fear into the hearts of my enemies, a dragon that can tear through the skies and leave a trail of destruction in its wake!" I exclaimed, my voice echoing through the chamber.

The fat bitch scoffed, clearly unimpressed by my outburst. "Your temper is your downfall, Rhaena. You let your emotions cloud your judgment," she said with a smug smile.

That was the last straw. My anger surged, and I felt an overwhelming urge to wipe the smug smile off the whore's face. My hand trembled with restrained fury, but before I could act on my impulse, my grandmother's firm grip stopped me in my tracks.

"Enough, Rhaena," she said sternly, her eyes locking onto mine with a mix of concern and disappointment. The weight of her gaze was a stark reminder of the responsibilities that came with being a Targaryen, and the importance of maintaining composure even in the face of provocation.

I took a deep breath, attempting to reign in my emotions. But the fire within me still burned fiercely, like a tempest raging inside my soul. "You don't understand, any of you," I seethed, my voice quivering with anger. "I am not weak, and I will not settle for mediocrity. I will prove myself, with or without your approval."

The tension in the room hung thick, like an unsheathed sword ready to strike. Father's expression softened, his worry for me evident, but the fat bitch remained smug, relishing in my momentary loss of control.

Grandmother stepped closer, her presence commanding attention. "Rhaena, we don't doubt your strength or determination," she said, her voice measured and calm. "But you must learn to wield them wisely, to channel your emotions into constructive paths."

"Princess Rhaenyra," the head dragonpeker spoke up, his voice filled with concern. "We have something to report."

"What is it?" the fat bitch responded dismissively.

"It is Silverwing, Princess," he said, his tone grave.

"What about her?" Father spoke up, his curiosity piqued.

"We haven't seen her in over a month, Your Grace," the dragonpeker revealed, causing everyone's eyes to widen in shock.

"What do you mean you haven't seen her?" Grandmother's voice thundered.

"She is not in her normal lair with Vermithor, and Vermithor is acting agitated. That's why we cannot go and search their lair," he explained, clearly troubled by the situation.

"A fucking dragon has been missing for a month, and you didn't speak up?" the fat bitch shouted, her face flushed with anger.

"It's normal for dragons not to be seen for an extended period, Princess. But too much time has passed, and we have to wonder why Silverwing has left Dragonstone," he said, trying to defend himself.

"You have no idea how majorly you've fucked up," the fat bitch retorted sharply. "The Greens will now question my authority over Dragonstone because a dragon has magically fucking disappeared, and no one knows where it's gone!"

Her outburst sent shockwaves through the room, and I could feel the tension escalate further. The revelation of Silverwing's absence was a serious matter, one that could have far-reaching consequences for our family's rule.

Without hesitation, the fat bitch turned to my brother Jacaerys. "Go and tell Master Gerardys to ready a raven. I have to inform Father immediately," she commanded, her voice urgent.

Jacaerys nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Right away," he said, quickly leaving the chamber.

The silence that followed was heavy with uncertainty. My mind raced with questions, wondering what could have led Silverwing to vanish without a trace. Dragons were powerful and mystical creatures, but even their behavior had patterns and explanations.

Father's expression darkened, and he addressed the dragonpeker with authority. "You will mobilize the dragonkeepers and search for Silverwing immediately," he ordered. "Leave no stone unturned until we find her."

The dragonpeker bowed deeply, realizing the severity of the task that lay ahead. "As you command, Your Grace," he replied, before rushing out to carry out the order.

Grandmother stepped forward, her presence commanding attention as always. "We must act swiftly and decisively," she said, her voice calm but determined. "If the Greens sense any vulnerability, they will exploit it. Our rule over Dragonstone must remain unshakeable."

Suddenly, there was laughter, and I turned my attention towards Father, who was the one laughing. The room fell silent as everyone looked at him, their expressions a mix of confusion and tension. I couldn't understand why he would find anything funny at a time like this, with the mystery of Silverwing's disappearance casting a dark shadow over Dragonstone.

"I cannot fucking believe it," he managed to say between fits of laughter, the sound echoing eerily in the room. His mirth seemed out of place, and I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to his laughter, something he wasn't revealing.

"Father, what's so amusing?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

He finally managed to compose himself, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "Oh, nothing," he said, his laughter subsiding into a knowing smile. "I just remembered something from the past, and I find it utterly hilarious."

Just then, the doors opened, and in came Maester Gerardys with a letter in his hand, looking visibly concerned.

"Princess, it has come from the Vale," he said and handed the letter to the fat bitch.

As she read the contents, her expression turned sour, and she muttered under her breath, "Fucking traitors."

Father took the letter from her, and as he read it, his expression grew grim. "What happened?" Grandmother asked, her voice laced with worry.

"My cousin has been kidnapped, and there is a fucking rebellion taking place in the Vale," the fat bitch revealed, her frustration evident.

A wave of shock washed over everyone in the room. The Vale had always been considered a strong and stable region, and news of a rebellion and a kidnapping was troubling.

"Apparently, the Lady of the Vale has been taken by her cousin, Ser Arnold, and no one knows her whereabouts," the fat bitch continued, her voice filled with anger and concern. "Lady Jessamyn, a companion of Lady Jeyne, has sent a plea for assistance from the Iron Throne. She requests a rider to be sent to the Vale to help find the Maiden of the Vale."

Maester Gerardys interjected, "It also says that Ulf has gone undercover in Ser Arnold's party, but his current whereabouts are unknown. Lady Jessamyn writes that she is hopeful the White Knight will save Lady Jeyne."

"What can a single peasant dressed like a knight fucking do?" the fat bitch spat out dismissively.

"More than you can ever fucking do," I shot back, glaring at her with fiery determination before leaving the room.

I quickly went to my room and retrieved the map of the Dragonmont that I had stolen from the dragonkeepers. The parchment contained crucial information about the lairs and whereabouts of the dragons that dwelled within the treacherous mountains.

As I stepped out of the castle, a storm was brewing in the sky, the dark clouds echoing the tempest of emotions raging within me. My determination to see my enemies suffer fueled my rage, and I embraced the fury that consumed me.

Walking up the Dragonmont, the memories of the past haunted my mind. Each step carried the weight of years of longing for vengeance and the thirst for justice. The path was treacherous, the slopes steep and slippery with rain-soaked stones. The roars of the various dragons resonated in the air, making the ground beneath my feet tremble.

But I pressed on, relentless in my pursuit of the dragon's lair. The torrential rain soaked me to the bone, but I cared little for my discomfort. My sole focus was on reaching the dragon that held the power to help me accomplish my objective.

Time seemed to blur, lost in the tumultuous journey up the mountain. My heart pounded in my chest, not only from the physical exertion but from the anticipation of what lay ahead.

Finally, I arrived at the entrance of a massive cave, its gaping maw lined with the bones of humans and dragons alike. The eerie aura of death and power surrounded the lair, sending shivers down my spine.

Summoning all my courage, I stepped cautiously into the darkness. The dragon's lair was immense, its vastness magnified by the shadows that danced ominously on the walls.

As I moved deeper into the lair, the air grew thick with the scent of sulfur and charred flesh. My heart raced, but I was undeterred. I had come too far to turn back now.

The flickering light of torches lined the walls, casting eerie, dancing shadows that seemed to mock me as I ventured further into the dragon's domain. The temperature soared, the oppressive heat enveloping me like a suffocating embrace.

And then, I saw it—its eyes glowing like emerald flames, its scales black as coal shimmering in the dim light. This dragon exuded a menacing aura, and a wicked smile crept across my face.