Chapter 13

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Rhaegar was born brilliant. He was forged as a hero of legend, born amidst fire and blood. His mother, who he loved more than anything in the world, was a legend as well. She was a conqueror, a queen, an immortal dragon that set the world aflame and then built a new one from the ashes. 

Rhaegar had always idolized his mother above all else. While most royals allowed for Septas and servants to care for their children, Daenyra was no such queen. She raised them herself, his father only around to kiss his mother's feet. It was his mother who taught him High Valyrian, strategy, and how to be a great king. She raised him to be a legend like her and settle for nothing less. 

His father had never meant much to the young prince. He was weak and worshiped his mother just like all the other mortals around them. How he earned the spot as his mother's husband, Rhaegar could never know. 

He had assumed that all dragons would be like them. Rhaear assumed that each member of the house Targaryen would be as strong, radiant, and intelligent as his beloved mother and siblings. They had no equal in Essos, but he was excited to meet their equals in Westeros. 

Rhaegar found himself sorely disappointed as he glanced around the table. 

The King. Weak-willed, a puppet. He was rotting from the inside out, missing fingers, his face one giant festering wound. What realm could this man possibly protect? He was no dragon. 

He observed the greens. His mother had briefed the children on the divide in the house Targaryen, the Greens against the blacks. 

Helaena was half mad, mumbling to herself as she sat by Aegon's side. 

Aegon was no better. He was practically drooling, frothing at the mouth as he stared at Rhaegar's mother. He was weak and unnecessary as Valaar was. 

Aemond had promise, at least he spoke High Valyrion and rode the greatest dragon. He was the only member of the greens scared from battle, having lost an eye against the blacks. But as he saw the look in Aemond's one good eye, he recognized that his uncle too worshiped his mother. 

Alicent and Otto were both fucking pathetic. Power-hungry yet too stupid to feast. 

His eyes drifted to the Blacks. 

Rhaenyra is a whore with no subtlety. A complete and utter brat who could have the people's support if she did literally anything heir like. She was as stupid and weak as the rest, going to her younger sister because she couldn't even handle her son's claim being challenged by herself. She too was no dragon. 

Her sons, ignoring the bastard, were as pathetic as their father Laenor was. They didn't even speak High Valyrian. They were mediocre in battle at best. They held no greatness within them at all. 

The strong bastard looked to still be attached to his mother's tit as the entire time he had been watching the bastard continued to look to his mother for guidance. 

Baela and Rhaena held absolutely no significance to him, they too were not in the least remarkable. 

Daemon was another member who had promised. He was the heir for so long. All he had to do was play on the people, not fuck up with the power he'd been given, and kill his brother before he had a son. It's not like it would have been hard, the king looked ready to keel over at any moment. 

Daemon had tasted true battle. He was even given a crown, but like a fucking moron he gave it to his pussy brother! Now the "rogue prince" was nothing more than Rhaenyra's whore and he too was drooling over Daenyra. 

Not one member of the House of Targaryen was equal to his mother or him. 

Not one of them measured up to the standard Daenyra had set for true Dragons. 

Rhaegar almost lost his fucking mind when he saw Rhaenyra hiss about the food being too hot. Looking over at his sister, he could tell that Aemma's thoughts mirrored his own. 

They looked at each other, disgusted that this was the mighty house of Westeros that so many feared and worshiped.  They found no equal among them. 

The Essosi Targaryen's seemed to be the only true dragons in the line and it was infuriating. 

They watched as Rhaenyra continued to throw a tantrum that Daenyra would not give her sons a lordship even after the Golden Conquerer had explained her reasoning for not doing so.

They were all children who didn't know how to play the game and then screamed that the rules weren't fair without even learning the fucking rules. 

"So... Prince Rhaegar, they call you 'battle born'... Why is that?" Jacerys asked curiously. 

Aemma looked stupefied that the prince didn't know the story. Letters had been sent to each of Rhaegar's aunts and uncles, did they not tell their children anything? How were these brats meant to inherit the kingdom if their parents kept them so sheltered and stupid? 

"The day I was born my mother had spent fighting in the final battle of Braavos. That night as she gave birth two assassins set the keep aflame and tried to kill my mother. She birthed me and while we were still attached she stood and slit the throat of the first assassin. As flames burned the keep around us my mother held me in her arms, burning the second alive as she experienced the afterbirth. I am called battle-born because I'm a dragon who was born amidst a battle. That is also why they call my mother and me unburnt." Rhaegar answered as if the answer was obvious. 

The eyes of the children grew wide at the story. 

"Yes we heard the story, don't worry my loves I am sure it was an exaggeration." Rhaenyra cooed at her children. 

"It was not exaggerated in the least, trust me I have the scars to prove it," Daenyra said good-naturedly as she sipped her wine once more ignoring the look of horror crossing the assembly faces. 

"I was certain everyone knew the story. I'm sure it's good for my brother's insatiable ego that that is not the case." Aemma added to the conversation, taking a sip of her water, looking like the mirrored image of their mother. 

The king stumbled to his feet giving a speech about how much he loved his family. He mentioned how happy he was to see Daenyra following her destiny of whatever. Then as the Blacks and Greens started shooting passive-aggressive toasts back and forth Rhaegar couldn't help but find them all inept. 

Not one of them played the game. Not one of them was on par with his mother's branch of Targaryen. 

NOT ONE DRAGON SAT AMONG THEM!

Family was meant to always be on the same side! Family meant equals who fight and burn together. Even the two-year-old twins were more capable of ruling a nation than anyone at the table. 

He and Aemma followed their mother to her chambers that night. The dinner was a complete disaster 

The moment the door was closed the children rounded on their mother. 

"I thought those people were meant to be dragons, our blood!" Aemma began in hisstarics. 

"They are. Put it into perspective, if the mortals worship those people like gods then how much better are we?" Daenyra spoke softly allowing her children to cuddle up next to her on the bed. 

"They are weak and foolish. They are no dragons." Rhaegar announced, highly perturbed by how dinner went. "How is one of them meant to inherit Westeros? They cant even care for their own families how are they meant to care for seven kingdoms? The children are as incompetent as their parents!" 

"None at that table will inherit the Iron throne for long," Daenyra whispered. 

Aemma sat up looking at their mother, "We are going to do something aren't we?"

"What is it we do best?" Daenyra smiled looking between her babies. 

"We do not bargain for what we can take. We are dragons. We conquer, with fire and blood," Rhaegar answered.


"That's right, my loves. We conquer, with fire and blood... If the world is not given to you, you must be smart enough to take it." 

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