Chapter Text
Rhaenyra sat at the head table watching the festivities. The people were drinking and dancing and all around having a marvelous time. Her father sat at her side smiling widely at the celebrations. If he had bothered to look he would have noticed that the two most important people in the room did not share in the evening's merriment. The bride and groom.
Ser Laenor Velaryon was a fine man, a dragon rider and the heir to a great house of Westeros. He was everything her father could have wanted in a suitor, in a husband for his daughter. Alas he failed to take into consideration the feelings of the prospective couple. Laenor cared not for women and had already confessed to her the likely future state of their marriage and Rhaenyra . . . well her heart beat for one man and one man only. Perhaps that was why instead of taking to the floor to dance with the Driftmark heir she was sitting in her seat. Waiting.
The evening had been full of interesting developments. Ser Laenor’s particular friend Ser Joffrey Lonmouth had made an appearance. No one had noticed anything out of the ordinary except for the few who knew what to look for. Rhaenyra saw not only the friendly touches that lasted just a second too long but also the tightening of Lord Corlys’ jaw. She knew he had pushed for this marriage as a way to make up for the slight to his wife during the Council of 101. His blood on the throne was all he cared about.
Another interesting development had been the late arrival of the Queen, donning Hightower green. An obvious call to banners for Aegon’s supporters. Rhaenyra only rolled her eyes at the obvious move. Her father was oblivious as always. That seemed to be his natural state, Rhaenyra could now admit to herself. He had turned a blind eye to his Hand's obvious plotting, his wife’s treasonous dress; it should hardly be a surprise that he refused to see who his daughter wished for as a spouse.
She sighed. Her fathers lack of action towards his wife’s treachery was almost to be expected. It seemed that whatever dragon fire was left inside him was only ever aimed towards his own family, his own blood. She shook her head in disappointment.
She felt her father’s eyes on her.
“Rhaenyra, why don’t you take to the floor with Laenor. This is your wedding feast. You should dance with your groom.” Her father said.
Rhaenyra barely refrained from stabbing the table with her dinner knife.
“I’m afraid I am feeling a bit tired tonight, Your Grace.” She said in a tightly controlled voice.
Her father scowled at her in response. Ever since the night of the brothel incident she had refused to address her father as anything other than Your Grace , speaking only when spoken to and offering only the barest of answers. Her father had promised her her choice of husband and upon making it he had swiftly refused his consent, choosing for her instead. She felt betrayed, even pre-warned as she had been by Daemon that Viserys would never approve of their union. She held out some hope that her father was a man of his word and would only wish to see his eldest daughter happy in her marriage. It turns out such hope was the fanciful thinking of a young girl. The scales had fallen from her eyes in regards to her father. She had no patience for his weakness and her silence was an easy way to protest. Her father despised being on the receiving end of the silent treatment.
So here she sat staring at the celebration for her upcoming nuptials. Her night of freedom returns to her memory, of dancing in servant's garb with her uncle in the streets of King’s Landing. The night they had shared had changed things. Feelings came rushing to the surface without any way to run from them. After a steamy kiss they could no longer deny what was so palpable, so true. They were twin flames, fated. They were only able to share a short time together but Rhaenyra knew it was more profound than anything they had ever shared before.
She sat up suddenly. She didn’t know how but she knew he was here. He was coming. Perhaps their bond was strong enough to tell. Perhaps she could feel the difference in the air. Perhaps her ears were so attuned to that particular sound that she knew it even above the din of the crowd. Rhaenyra held herself rigid in anticipation.
She was not wrong.
Just before crashing into the banquet hall a high pitched whistling could be heard before stone and dust were being sprayed across the room. The joyful sounds of the evening had been traded for screams of pain and fear as Caraxes’ large body decimated everything in its path.
She was on her feet and running before she even knew what she was doing.
He was here!
She knew he would be. She never had any doubt. They had been honest with each other that night about their wants and desires. They wanted each other and they didn’t care what they gave up as long as they were together. Daemon didn’t want Rhaenyra to regret choosing him if Viserys disinherited her. Rhaenyra didn’t want Daemon to regret choosing her if their children would not end up on the throne. They both reassured the other that neither concern was true. They would choose each other a hundred times over even if they lost everything else.
Daemon had left quickly after that with a searing kiss and a promise to come get her before she ended up shackled to another man. He flew through the night to reach the Vale to accomplish his mission before he would return to her. With his arrival she knew Lady Rhea was no more and they could now be together in truth with no unwanted spouse lingering in the background.
Amidst the chaos Daemon sat tall on Caraxes, his smirk growing wider as soon as he spotted her. He extended a hand and she leapt for him. He pulled her up behind him on Caraxes’ back and she looked down to admire his handiwork. Tables were crushed and thrown sideways. People were running around in panic. At the head table her father looked on in shock and anger, his face a strange mix of red and white. She could only smile widely in return. She had made her choice and she could not repine doing so. She wrapped her arms around Daemon’s middle and gave a squeeze. In response he ordered Caraxes to take to the skies. She laughed freely, unburdened for the first time since her mothers death.
Viserys watched in horror as his daughter climbed onto his brother's dragon and prepared to leave. What was she doing? She couldn’t possibly be choosing Daemon. She couldn’t be running away with him, knowing that should they marry he would no doubt be forced to disinherit her.
The stunning display paralyzed him and he was powerless to do anything other than watch this madness happen in front of him. He thought he was saving her from a lifetime of misery as his brother's wife. He thought he was making the right choice. He would not know until much later exactly what the cost of his choice would be. The last image he ever had of his beloved daughter was her shining face as she flew off, her loud laughter lingering on the wind as they soared through the sky.