Chapter 3: Dragonslayer

...

Before Viserys helped Rhaenys onto the carriage, he glanced back to see a woman with a child in her arms standing at an open window in the Maegor's Tower.

Her brown hair and black eyes, her delicate frame swaying slightly in the wind, and the infant in swaddling clothes she cradled in her arms.

Viserys knew her as his brother's wife, his sister-in-law Elia Martell, the Princess of Dorne, and the baby in her arms as his nephew Aegon Targaryen.

His mind, however, was hazy, and with a strained spirit, he accepted that they would have to face exile upon entering this world. He held the little girl in his arms, trying to keep her calm.

He had no time to ponder why his father kept Elia and her children captive in King's Landing.

They could have had the chance to escape with him.

But as the rebel forces closed in, staying in King's Landing meant danger. Viserys made a last-minute, risky decision to take Rhaenys with him just before their departure.

He didn't know if his father would send troops to chase them down.

Or if his small act of altering history, flapping the wings of a butterfly, would bring about any unforeseen consequences.

Yet, he did what little he could, at least to appease his conscience.

If gold cloaks came later to forcibly take Rhaenys away, he might not have the courage to stand in their way.

"Let's go!"

Elia, standing in Maegor's Tower, saw her daughter escape by a stroke of luck with Viserys' carriage and leave the Red Keep. Her already frail body swayed slightly, tears welled up in her eyes, and a single crystalline tear traced down her cheek.

She had a feeling that this would be her final farewell to her daughter.

...

Owing to the recent unrest at sea, storms had been brewing.

Originally, the convoy meant to escort the queen and prince could have sailed from King's Landing straight to Dragonstone, but under the careful consideration of Ser William, they chose to travel by land to minimize the time spent at sea.

The news of the king burning soldiers alive hadn't been suppressed, and the Red Keep was already full of holes. The word had spread throughout King's Landing that the royal army had been defeated, and Rhaegar Targaryen was dead.

The rebel forces were aggressively approaching the city.

Panic had spread among the million-plus residents of the city, and the dark clouds of war loomed over King's Landing.

The convoy departed from the Red Keep, passed Aegon's High Hill, and fully armed soldiers dispersed the chaotic crowd along the way.

There were no Targaryen sigils on the carriages, the curtains were drawn, and it was impossible to see which noble was seated inside.

"Make way!"

The soldiers urged their horses to disperse pedestrians on the street, and their whips came down without mercy.

Crack—

The noisy, disorderly crowd suddenly became orderly under the whip's lashes, wailing as they were pushed to the sides of the road, clearing a path for the convoy.

The carriage of Queen Rhaella led the way, followed closely by Viserys and Rhaenys' carriage.

The boy's fingers gently pulled back a small gap in the curtains, revealing the outside scenery. The carriage, escorted by soldiers, navigated through the narrow streets. Looking up, he could see a hill overlooking King's Landing in the distance, where the Targaryens' dragon pit stood.

"That's Rhaenys Hill," he whispered.

Seated in the carriage, Viserys tried to find a topic to distract little Rhaenys, who was excitedly under the impression that they were going on a day trip. The landmark bearing her name was undoubtedly the best topic for the two youngsters.

As expected, the brown-haired girl, cradling her small black cat Balerion, looked over with anticipation. However, she was disappointed to learn that the hill was not built by her loving father just for her.

Viserys racked his brain to recall the knowledge he had gleaned from history books, thankful for his eidetic memory. He then told the little girl the story that took place more than two centuries ago, about the ancestor conqueror Aegon and his sister-queen Rhaenys.

Rhaenys Hill was named by her husband, Aegon Targaryen, in memory of his sister who had fallen in battle. He had also built a memorial chapel, but it was later destroyed during a rebellion and replaced by a dragon pit.

The brown-haired little girl listened intently, cradling her kitten. Hearing about the fate of the queen who shared her name, she couldn't help but shed a few tears.

"In the future, I also want to find a husband who loves me like that," Rhaenys said, her eyes reddening as she sniffled. She seemed to immerse herself in the story, associating her fate with that of Queen Rhaenys. After all, they shared the same name, making it easy to empathize and imagine.

Being at the innocent and romantic age where she loved stories and daydreaming, she also had some expectations for the future. However, she was not yet aware of her father's death. The name Rhaenys seemed cursed, and her fate was not much better than that of the young queen two centuries ago, leaving little room for sympathy.

At three or four years old, she had not yet received strict court etiquette education. As a result, she forgot to address Viserys as "uncle" and instead called him "brother" or by his name due to their similar ages.

"He might even bravely slay a dragon for me," she said, her face and delicate chin defiant, even though her eyes glistened with tears. Her unrealistic fantasy was nevertheless endearing, making it hard not to smile.

Viserys wore an awkward yet polite smile on his face.

The carriage wheels rumbled as they rolled, signaling that they were not far from leaving King's Landing. Their pursuers sent by her father had not caught up, indicating that he had tacitly allowed Viserys to take Rhaenys away.

Regardless of why her father had detained Princess Elia Martell and her son, possessing someone more important made the presence or absence of a little girl like Rhaenys inconsequential, especially since she was his granddaughter.

Viserys felt much more at ease. He reached out to ruffle the brown hair inherited from her mother. As her hair became increasingly messy, he finally spoke.

"There are no dragons left in the world, Rhaenys."

"The last one died over a century ago."

As he spoke, Viserys looked at Rhaenys Hill in the distance, silently thinking to himself. If the Targaryen family still had dragons, perhaps they wouldn't be in such a predicament.