Dream Of Winter | C. Stark & H. Targaryen

Island in the Sun

Rhaena POV

Rhaena Targaryen stood on the windswept shores of Driftmark, her silver-blonde hair billowing in the biting wind, mirroring the somber atmosphere that shrouded the island. The gloomy clouds painted the sky in shades of gray, matching the heavy weight in her heart. She had never seen her mother's homeland before. All her life was spent in Pentos, at the palace of the gracious prince of the city. A luxurious if supposedly demeaning experience - at least that's what she deduced her grandfather meant in his missives to her mother. 

Rhaena didn't wish to overstep and pillage through her lady mother's letters, but ever since she lost her a fortnight ago, she's scrounging for any last vestige of her to immortalize by her side. 

The halls of Driftmark, her alleged birthright, felt alien to her, carrying an overwhelming sense of grief and confusion. The funeral was due in a few hours, and already she felt like her tears had been emptied. Baela certainly had enough of her relentless wailing and left with their uncle Laenor Gods know where. 

The man may be their mother's twin brother, her other half like she and Baela were, but Rhaena hardly knew him. She couldn't grieve freely in his presence or act as detached as she desperately wanted. 

So she walked through the halls of the castle like a wraith. Rhaena couldn't help but feel the weight of her own expectations bearing down upon her. She was drowning in the halls of the Merling king, with no refuge or sanctuary in sight. 

Laena Velaryon, the fiercest and most resilient woman the Gods had fashioned, had always pushed her to embrace her Targaryen heritage and fulfill her destiny, whatever it may be. But with Mother gone, doubts plagued Rhaena's mind, intertwining with her grief. Who was she, beyond the confines of her name and birthright? What was her purpose in a world that had lost its stability? 

Suppressed anger simmered within her, directed toward the man she called father - Daemon Targaryen, the infamous Rogue Prince. His impulsiveness and disregard for the consequences of his actions had caused immense pain within their family. Rhaena knew all too well the battles their parents fought, often playing out behind closed doors, their voices carrying a peculiar mix of love and anger. 

She longed for his approval for as long as she could remember. Her father's affection was fleeting and intoxicating, vanishing just as quickly as it appeared, and at times spurred on by her mother's slight cajoling when it came to his youngest daughter. 

Baela was obviously his more favored child. She shared many of his likes and interests, naturally gravitating towards fighting and horse riding since they turned six. When Moondancer grew big enough to mount a year later, it was a rare enough sight to find her twin sister away from the skies, or her father's side. 

Rhaena would learn to swallow her envy and accept her fate. At least she tried. Neither of her parents had been bonded to dragons hatched to them in the cradle - despite her Father's willful blindness and benign neglect - so Rhaena's dreams of claiming a mighty beast weren't completely far-fetched. 

But they're all hollow aspirations now. 

Her mother's death had not only left a void in her heart but had also thrust her into a state of ambivalence, torn between the love for her family and the burden of her own desires. 

She knew for certain Mother pushed and bargained with Father to return to Driftmark for months on end. Yet, he staunchly refused. Too moved by his own wounded pride, a decade after her uncle the King grew wroth that he eloped with Lady Laena without his permission. 

Daemon didn't care for her many protests that their newborn child be delivered in her own castle, and she paid the price for his obstinacy with her life.