Heir of the Dragon

Wings Of Destiny

With the first blush of dawn came the soft murmur of activity in my chamber. Nursemaids fluttered like gentle butterflies, their whispers like a soothing lullaby that gently drew me from the embrace of dreams. Aemma's smile, radiant as the morning sun, greeted me as she cradled me in her arms, her laughter like the first notes of a sweet melody.

"Good morning, my little prince," she whispered, her eyes alight with the promise of a new day. I was quickly passed to the nursemaids, fussing as they got me ready for the day, bathing me and putting on a fresh pair of clothes until soon I was deposited into the arms of my mother who carried me to the family's personal dining hall.

I found myself amidst the loving embrace of my family. Viserys, my father, grinned as if the sun had chosen to grace him alone, his eyes filled with pride and love. "Look who's awake, Aemma. Our young dragon is eager to start the day."

Alysanne, my great-grandmother, bestowed upon me a warm smile that held all the wisdom of ages. "Ah, Rhaegar, my sweet prince. Your presence lights up our halls."

Uncle Daemon's voice, a mixture of amusement and genuine affection, chimed in. "Indeed, it seems the spirit of dragons runs strong in you."

Amidst the clinking of goblets and rustling of garments, the table was alive with laughter and love—a symphony woven into the very fabric of my mornings.
As plates emptied and tales were shared, my attention shifted to the hidden companion beneath the table—my loyal confidant in mischief, my secret sharer of morsels. In the dance of clinking silverware, I slipped little treats to my draconic friend, a bond forged in stolen moments. Alas, my small indulgence was discovered by the keen eye of my mother.

"Rhaegar Targaryen, what on earth are you doing?" My mother's voice held both amusement and a hint of reproach.

I pouted, feigning innocence with wide eyes. "Feeding Ameryls, Mother."

Her laughter blended with a gentle reprimand. "Ameryls deserves her own meal, my love."

The feast continued, love and laughter abundant, a bond forged through shared stories and fond memories. Beneath the table, my secret friend and I built a unique camaraderie, a connection I knew my mother would sternly disapprove of.

And then, a whispered promise of adventure sparked in the air—a journey that would shape my destiny in ways unimaginable.

"Rhaegar," my grandsire Baelon's voice carried the excitement of a story yet to be told, "How would you like to ride a dragon?"

Aemma's brows furrowed with concern, skepticism etched across her features. "Riding a dragon, Father? He's but a babe."

Viserys leaned in, his voice a soothing reassurance. "Aemma, remember when my mother, Alyssa, took me on my first flight when I was just nine days old? Our son will be safe with my father."

Uncle Daemon's eyes gleamed with mischief. "Or perhaps I can take him on Caraxes."

Alysanne's voice, the voice of a concerned elder, held a mother's caution. "Daemon, does your impetuousness know no bounds? Rhaegar's safety is of utmost importance."

Daemon's grumbling was met with a knowing twinkle in his eye. "You know I'd never endanger my precious nephew."

Anticipation fluttered within me like a caged bird eager to be released. My thoughts raced—of feeling the wind's caress, of soaring with a dragon's heartbeat. And then, at last, the moment was upon me.

I stood at the threshold of destiny, my heart pounding in rhythm with Vhagar's wings. With a mighty beat, we ascended into the open sky, the world below shrinking to mere insignificance. The land sprawled beneath us like a sprawling canvas, every river and hill a brushstroke in the masterpiece of creation.

King's Landing, a labyrinth of streets and structures, sprawled below. The Red Keep rose like a sentinel, the Great Sept of Baelor a touch of divinity against the horizon. The salty tang of Blackwater Bay mingled with the sky's embrace, and I felt like a king surveying my realm.

Uncle Daemon accompanied us on Caraxes, his dragon dancing alongside Vhagar. The sky became our playground, a canvas for our aerial ballet. Daemon's tricks and twists elicited laughter, his antics a testament to the bond between dragon and rider. My laughter merged with the wind's whisper, a celebration of life that echoed through the heavens.

As the sun began its descent, so did we. The earth reached out to embrace us, and with a gentle touchdown, the sky released us back into the world below. Aemma's arms welcomed me back, a mixture of relief and affection in her touch. "Rhaegar, you won't be flying again, not until you are at least ten-name days old, you hear me?!"

Laughter rippled through the gathered family, a chorus of shared joy that filled the air. With a sense of completion, I was led back to my chamber, the day's activities woven into my memories.

As the world bathed in the velvety embrace of night, Aemma's voice wove a lullaby—a tale of stars and dragons, sung just for me. Beneath the warm covers, my thoughts danced like fireflies, flitting from one idea to the next.

I contemplated the arrival of my sister, Rhaenyra, and how her future was interwoven with mine, knowing the traditions of our house she would more likely than not end up being my wife. Hope flickered, a star in the night sky, that perhaps her birth could alter the course of fate for our family. Surely mother would no longer be required to have children if she already had an heir and a spare?

Otto Hightower's looming presence brought a mixture of curiosity and caution, and the enigmatic Alicent Hightower remained a creature I did not want to touch with a seven-foot pole. Her entry into my family could only bring tidings of destruction and war.

Amidst these ponderings, thoughts of a conspiracy swirled—of a plot to extinguish dragons and reshape history. The truth lay hidden, like a gem veiled in shadow, waiting to be unearthed. Were the Maester's truly poisoning my mother so she could not have a child? How was I born when I was never meant to exist? Surely they must have tried to poison me too.

As sleep's embrace claimed me, dreams unfurled—dragons and destinies interwoven. In the quiet realm of slumber, I walked the paths between past and present, the echoes of history guiding me toward an uncertain future.