Dragonstone was as dreary as ever.
Rhaenys had arrived two days earlier, accompanied by her aunt, after receiving a raven from Winterfell bearing Maekar's commands. The first order was already spreading like wildfire across Westeros: all the lords of the Seven Kingdoms—except those of the North—were commanded to travel to King's Landing. The second order was far more peculiar: she and Daenerys were to travel immediately to Dragonstone, bringing Ser Jaime, Brienne, and all the Red Priests and Priestesses who had been gathering in the capital. And no one else.
Maekar was planning something, and Rhaenys had a fair idea of what it might be.
Now, she sat in Aegon's Garden, watching as Daenerys entered with a host of red-cloaked figures. The Red Priestesses, clad in scarlet silks, whispered among themselves in hushed Valyrian, their voices a melodic yet unsettling chorus.
Rhaenys barely noticed them—her attention was focused on Ghost.
The white direwolf had been sitting idly by a nearby tree when she arrived; the moment he saw her, he had bounded toward her. She smiled, running her fingers through his thick fur. The direwolf was not fond of the priestesses, and truth be told, neither was she. Ghost had taken to staying by her side rather than Daenerys's, who was growing ever more enthralled by the Red Priests and their god. It was something Maekar needed to be aware of.
"Rhaenys," Daenerys greeted as she approached, the group of priestesses fanning out behind her.
"Daenerys," Rhaenys acknowledged, her gaze flicking over the woman at her side—Melisandre.
The Red Woman inclined her head slightly. "My queen."
The others followed suit, bowing their heads in reverence.
Daenerys's eyes gleamed with excitement. "Maekar will be arriving soon. Melisandre has had a vision."
Rhaenys raised a brow. "I see."
One of the younger priestesses, a woman with copper-colored hair and piercing amber eyes, stepped forward. "Great things are to happen in the coming days. R'hllor will bless His champion with powerful weapons against the darkness."
Melisandre nodded. "Elyssara has been granted visions since last week, my queen. R'hllor speaks through her."
Rhaenys glanced between Daenerys and Melisandre, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Well, let's hope it all proves true."
They sat together—Daenerys and Melisandre speaking mostly of their god—until Daenerys, thankfully, changed the topic. "Where you believe Lightbringer is."
Rhaenys tensed slightly. Maekar had already spoken to them about it. He had tasked Grand Maester Marwyn with searching for the legendary sword—if it even existed.
Melisandre's expression was serene. "It is here, in Westeros. Somewhere in the Reach."
Rhaenys frowned. "The Reach? Why the Reach?"
"Because that is where my lord led me," Melisandre replied. "And it is where he has guided Marwyn as well."
Rhaenys suppressed a scoff. So…nothing solid. She sighed, stroking Ghost's fur absentmindedly. She still had no clue why Maekar had insisted they come to Dragonstone.
Suddenly, a roar tore through the sky. The deafening bellow, filled with power and dominance, sent shivers down the spines of all gathered.
Neferion had arrived.
Daenerys stood abruptly, her eyes glinting with excitement. "He is here."
"R'hllor be praised," one of the Red Priestesses whispered, her hands clasped together in awe.
Rhaenys rose more calmly, while Ghost let out an eager whine beside her, tail wagging in excitement at Maekar's arrival.
They made their way toward the castle entrance as Dragonstone's household stirred. Guards, servants, and retainers hurriedly filled the courtyard to welcome their returning king.
Outside the walls, Neferion descended, the black dragon's enormous wings casting a broad shadow as he landed near the cliffs. Rhaenys watched Ser Jaime lead a company of men through the gates, making their way toward the dragon. They would bring Maekar the rest of the way on horseback.
The sun was beginning to set as they stood waiting.
"It is quite late," Daenerys murmured. "He must be tired…" She added abruptly, "I wish to share Maekar's bed tonight."
Rhaenys turned to her, arching a brow. "Am I his wife, or are you?"
Daenerys smirked. "I thought we agreed we both were…" She shrugged lightly. "If you truly wish to be with him, then—maybe you should join me."
Rhaenys let out a low chuckle. Before she could tease Daenerys further, the gates creaked open.
The crowd parted as Maekar rode in, flanked by Ser Jaime, Ser Lyonel, and the rest of his escort. He looked tired, his face gaunt. Rhaenys couldn't help but wonder what in the Seven Hells had happened beyond the Wall. He had promised to return in a month, yet it had taken him four.
Once he dismounted, the people knelt—all except Rhaenys and Daenerys, who greeted him with deep bows.
"Husband," Rhaenys said, smiling.
Maekar smirked, stepping toward her. "Wife."
Then he turned to Daenerys, his expression softening slightly. "Dany."
She smiled. "My King."
But before anything else could be said, Maekar's gaze landed on the figures in red—the priests and priestesses of R'hllor, their eyes glowing with reverence.
"Ah, Melisandre," he mused, eyes locking on the Red Woman. "Good. You are all here."
He then turned back to Rhaenys and Daenerys, motioning for Lyonel to step forward. Only then did Rhaenys notice the chest in the knight's hands. A sudden weight of anticipation settled in her stomach.
"I bring gifts," Maekar said.
Lyonel knelt, placing the chest before them. With a swift motion, he unlatched it.
The hushed murmurs of the crowd turned to gasps as the lid was lifted. Inside the chest, three dragon eggs rested on fine velvet, their shells gleaming like polished jewels: one gold, radiant as the rising sun; one crimson, deep and rich like fresh blood; and one a dark, stormy blue, rippling with hints of silver and violet.
Daenerys moved before Rhaenys could react, her hands closing around the blue egg. She traced its smooth, rippling surface, staring at it as though it whispered secrets only she could hear.
Behind them, a priestess gasped, dropping to her knees. "A gift from R'hllor," she whispered, eyes full of reverence.
More priests and priestesses followed suit, murmuring strange, fervent prayers, their hands raised toward the sky.
Rhaenys exhaled slowly, crossing her arms over her chest. She had the distinct feeling that the next few days would be very, very interesting.
====
She could not sleep.
Rhaenys lay in her chambers, staring up at the dark canopy above her bed, her thoughts racing like restless storm winds. She and Maekar had barely found time to speak today. From the moment he arrived, the Red Priests had flocked to him, demanding his attention with their whispers of prophecy and divine purpose.
In a way, it had been almost amusing. For moons, she had worried about Daenerys falling under Melisandre's influence, wondering if she would be the one to pull her aunt back from the brink of zealotry. Yet, in the end, it had taken only one thing to drive Daenerys away from the priestess's clutches: the moment Melisandre and her followers began offering their bodies to Maekar, Daenerys dismissed them outright. Rhaenys had nearly laughed at the relief on Maekar's face when Daenerys sent the priestesses away.
So, as a reward, she had allowed Daenerys to have him for the night—after all, Daenerys had asked. Still, sleep eluded her. She wanted to know what had happened in the North. She was supposed to learn tomorrow, but she hated being kept in the dark, and she could not wait.
Rhaenys had noticed the way Maekar's gaze darkened and the way his posture stiffened whenever his journey was mentioned. She sighed, pushing back the covers.
"Well, she did invite me," she muttered to herself, making her way toward Maekar's chambers. Luckily, they were nearby; after all, they were using the same chambers once occupied by the Conqueror and his wives.
As she approached, she noted the absence of Kingsguard at the door. No Ser Jaime. No Ser Lyonel. Daenerys must have dismissed them.
She pushed open the door without knocking, her heart pounding in her chest. The room was dimly lit, and as she stepped inside, the sounds of sex filled her ears, making her breath hitch. 'Are they not done?' she thought, annoyed.
She could hear the unmistakable rhythm of flesh meeting flesh, the wet slap of bodies moving together in a dance as old as time. She watched from the shadows as Daenerys straddled Maekar, her petite form bouncing up and down, her breasts heaving with each movement, her nipples hard and rosy. Her silver hair was damp with sweat, sticking to her back and shoulders, glistening in the dim light of the chamber.
Maekar's hands roamed over her body, tracing the curves of her waist, the swell of her hips, the softness of her thighs. He gripped her ass, squeezing and kneading, his fingers digging into her flesh as he guided her movements. His touch was possessive, hungry, as if he couldn't get enough of her.
Rhaenys bit her lip as she watched, regretting letting Daenerys have him for the night.
Daenerys threw her head back, her silver hair cascading down her back as she rode him harder, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps.
"Fuck, Dany," Maekar growled, his voice thick with lust. "You feel so fucking good. So tight." His hands moved up to her breasts, cupping and squeezing, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, making her gasp and moan.
Daenerys' body responded to his touch, her back arching, her hips moving faster. "Maekar... oh, I'm almost..." she moaned, her body trembling with each movement. Her skin was flushed, her cheeks rosy, her lips parted and swollen from their kisses.
Rhaenys felt a surge of heat between her legs, her own desire building as she watched Maekar and Daenerys in the throes of passion. She could feel her own wetness, her body aching with need as she watched them.
Daenerys' body tensed, her back arching as she cried out, her orgasm exploding through her. She collapsed onto Maekar, her body shaking with the aftershocks of her climax. 'Finally,' Rhaenys thought as she watched Daenerys lay limp on Maekar.
"You're still hard," she heard Daenerys murmur, her voice soft, almost a whisper.
Maekar chuckled, his hands still on her ass, caressing it. "It's been months..."
Daenerys smiled, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Good, because we have all night."
Rhaenys took the opportunity to step out of the shadows. "Will you let my poor husband rest?" she asked.
"Rhaenys," Daenerys said, a bit shocked.
Maekar, still breathless, looked up at Rhaenys with a smirk. "Well, this is interesting," he said, his voice low.
Rhaenys shook her head, her expression firm. "Whatever you think is not happening," she insisted. "I couldn't sleep. I need to know what happened north."
Maekar chuckled, his hands still resting on Daenerys' ass. "You can't sleep... Well, as you can see, I've helped Dany with that."
"Maekar," Rhaenys said in a more serious tone.
With a sigh, Maekar reluctantly disentangled himself from the tired Daenerys, who lay back on the bed, still breathing heavily. He stood up and walked over to a basin of water to clean himself. After he did so, he poured himself some water, taking a long sip to quench his thirst.
She sat down on a nearby chair, and so did Maekar, and then he explained what had happened beyond the Wall.
He spoke of how he found the last of the Children of the Forest, of how they helped Neferion pass beyond the Wall—something no dragon had done in thousands of years. He told them how he saved the Free Folk, who were being hunted and turned into wights, their numbers swelling the Others' army; of the wight hunt; and of his deal with the King Beyond the Wall.
She and Daenerys listened intently. So much had happened—too much.
Maekar leaned forward, hands clasped before him. "The Lords of the North have begun their preparations there were some issues when i brought up the wildlings but uncle brandon is dealing with that. Now we only need to convince the other six kingdoms."
There was a heavy silence.
Daenerys was the first to speak. "How long do we have?"
Rhaenys dreaded the answer.
Maekar let out a breath, rubbing his temples before replying. "According to Leaf, three years. For the next three years, it will be like the Year of the False Winter—it will gradually get colder. And after that…it will be endless winter until we defeat them."
Rhaenys exhaled, realizing she'd been holding her breath. "Three years…" she murmured. "That's better than I expected."
Daenerys's gaze flickered to the fire, to the three dragon eggs resting within the flames. "Will that be enough time for our dragons to grow?"
Rhaenys followed her gaze, her heartbeat quickening. The eggs glowed in the firelight, the heat licking against their smooth, hardened shells.
Maekar nodded. "Melisandre will help with that."
Rhaenys frowned. "That woman is dangerous," she said sharply. "She's a shadowbinder from Asshai—a sorceress. I've seen what her kind can do."
Maekar met her gaze steadily. "I know what she is. And I know what her fellow priestesses are capable of. That's why we need her."
Rhaenys clenched her jaw but did not argue further. "And what of the sword?" she asked instead.
Lightbringer—the blade of legend. The sword of the Last Hero.
Maekar's gaze flickered. "After my talk with Melisandre, and using what I learned from Leaf, I'm certain now. Lightbringer is either at Starfall…or the Hightower."
Rhaenys exchanged a glance with Daenerys.
"Starfall?"
"The Hightower?"
They both spoke at once. Maekar nodded.
"I'll explain more later. But for now, we focus on the dragons."
He leaned back, his expression shifting. A slow, sly grin spread across his lips. "Tomorrow evening…we hatch them."
Rhaenys felt her pulse quicken. She barely noticed Daenerys sitting up straighter, her violet eyes gleaming with excitement.
"Truly?" Daenerys breathed.
"Truly," Maekar confirmed.
He let the weight of his words settle before adding, "We must do this in secret. No one but us and the Red Priestesses can know. Many in Westeros will not like it."
Rhaenys barely heard his warning. Tomorrow, the dragons would rise again.
"But enough about that," he said, his smirk widening. His eyes gleamed with something mischievous as he turned toward them.
Maekar's gaze moved from Rhaenys to Daenerys, and she knew exactly what he was implying. She would have rejected him any other day, but after hearing what he had said, she could use some relaxation —some release.
She turned to Daenerys. "I'll take you up on your previous offer," she declared.
'There was no offer," Daenerys said.
With a fluid motion, she stood from the chair and let her nightgown fall, revealing her bare body. Her skin glowed in the chamber's soft light, her curves and contours surpassing even Daenerys's.
Daenerys's eyes widened. "This was not what we agreed," she protested.
Maekar, however, was quick to intervene. "Exceptions can be made," he said, his eyes flickering between Rhaenys and Daenerys. "Do it for me, Dany—the man who braved the icy lands beyond the Wall, killed the undead, and saved the wildlings…"
Rhaenys exchanged a glance with Daenerys, a silent understanding passing between them. Daenerys sighed, her expression softening. "Fine," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Though I must admit, I do not know what to do when another woman is present."
"I do," Maekar said quickly, but he changed his tune just as fast when Daenerys shot him a glare. "I mean, this is a first for me as well," he amended.
With that, he closed the distance between them, his hands reaching out to cup Rhaenys's face. He leaned in, and his lips met hers in a passionate kiss. The room seemed to spin as they fell back onto the bed, their bodies entwined.
Daenerys watched them for a moment before joining in, raining kisses on Maekar and her.
The dragon hatching would have to be postponed.
.
.
.
"We will be fine, Ser," Rhaenys said, her voice firm.
Maekar turned toward Ser Jaime. "Listen to her, Jaime. We will be fine."
Jaime did not look convinced. His gaze flickered to the two dragon eggs clutched carefully in Rhaenys's and Daenerys's arms—the red and gold eggs, warm even in the cool air.
"Your Grace," Jaime said, his tone measured. "I understand that you are going to try and hatch those dragon eggs."
Maekar simply nodded.
Jaime exhaled. "Remember what happened to the last king who tried to do it?"
Rhaenys did not miss the way Daenerys tensed beside her.
Aegon the Fifth.
The Unlikely.
A good king who died trying to bring dragons back into the world. Daenerys had told Rhaenys the story, having heard it from her mother—who was there during the tragedy, on the day Rhaenys's father, Rhaegar, was born.
Maekar smirked as he mounted his horse. "Good thing we aren't doing it inside a palace, then."
Jaime muttered something under his breath but relented. He stepped back as Lyonel helped Rhaenys and Daenerys mount their respective horses.
They did not waste time, riding toward the Dragonmont. The path was steep and winding, carved through ancient stone and blackened rock. The volcano loomed above them, its great peak shrouded in mist.
Their journey was silent. Maekar rode ahead, his expression unreadable. Rhaenys glanced at Daenerys, who clutched her egg tightly in one hand.
Rhaenys felt an odd mixture of emotions. She had dreamed of this moment since she was a child, since she first heard stories of her ancestors' dragons. And now, it was here.
The ritual, as Maekar had explained the night before, had a good reason to be kept secret.
It required blood magic.
And fire.
"A life for a life." Those were Maekar's words. The priests of R'hllor had assured them the sacrifice did not need to be innocent. And fate had given them two men who deserved it.
Rhaenys recalled the trial two nights ago, when she had passed judgment on two men from a nearby village who were accused of raping a young woman. They had been offered mercy—a choice between death or the Wall. They chose the Wall. But fate, it seemed, had other ideas.
Now, they would serve another purpose.
They arrived at the base of the volcano and followed Maekar as he walked beside Daenerys, after dismounting their horses. The Red Priestesses, already deep in prayer, bowed as they passed.
Melisandre wasted no time. Stepping forward, her fiery red robes billowing, she raised her hands toward the darkening sky.
"We stand before the Lord of Light," she intoned.
The gathered priests and priestesses echoed her words, their chanting rising in intensity.
"The dragons have slept for too long," Melisandre continued. "But fire and blood shall awaken them once more. And who better to offer fire and blood than the ones who shall claim them?"
Her piercing red eyes fell on Rhaenys and Daenerys.
"You must give a part of yourselves," she declared. "Spill your blood upon the eggs and call to them. Show them that they are yours."
Rhaenys swallowed hard. She felt Daenerys tremble beside her, but the silver-haired woman stepped forward without hesitation. Rhaenys did the same.
A Red Priestess pressed a dagger into her hand. It was a simple blade, yet the weight of what she was about to do felt far heavier than steel. She gripped the egg tightly in her other hand.
She pressed the dagger against her palm, feeling a sharp sting. Blood welled up from the cut, and she tilted her hand, letting the warm liquid drip onto the dragon egg. The blood sank into the smooth shell, vanishing as though the egg had absorbed it.
She heard Daenerys do the same beside her.
Melisandre then turned to Maekar.
"And now, the champion of the gods," she said, her voice reverent, almost trembling with devotion. "Azor Ahai reborn."
Maekar took the dagger without hesitation. He sliced his palm open, letting his blood—royal and, as Melisandre liked to call it, 'divine'—drip onto the eggs.
Melisandre smiled, her lips curling in triumph. "Now, place the eggs upon the pyres."
The two prisoners—the rapists—began thrashing against their bonds. They had been silent before, perhaps believing their fate was not sealed. But now? Now they understood.
"No—please, please, don't do this!" one of them screamed. The other was praying, muttering, sobbing.
Rhaenys did not care. Neither did Daenerys.
With steady hands, they placed the eggs atop the pyres, nestled within the stacked wood beneath the bound victims.
Melisandre lifted her arms high, her voice a thunderous command. "Light the fire, my king!"
Maekar stepped forward. He lifted his still-bleeding palm and took a torch from one of the Red Priestesses, lighting the pyres.
The two men screamed.
Their wails pierced the night as the flames devoured them, licking hungrily at flesh, wood, and eggs alike. Rhaenys did not flinch. She only stared.
The fire raged and roared, turning night into day. She smelled burning flesh, heard bones snapping, and the last choked gasps of dying men.
For a time, there was only the sound of the fire as they waited for something—anything—to happen. A part of her feared it would fail. But then…
A crack.
And another.
Maekar's head snapped toward the pyres, his lips curling into a wide, victorious grin. "It worked."
Daenerys surged forward, but before she could reach the flames—
A red-scaled shape burst from the pyre. It tumbled out of the fire, shaking glowing embers from its shining scales.
A dragon.
Daenerys's dragon.
Rhaenys barely noticed, because—
Her eyes widened. Her breath caught in her throat.
From her own pyre, another shape emerged. Its scales gleamed like pure gold, radiant in the firelight, reflecting the flames like molten metal. It stumbled forward, blinking, wings flaring.
The golden dragon walked toward her.
Everything around her faded. She did not hear the Red Priests chanting in ecstasy, Maekar laughing, or Daenerys squealing in delight. She did not feel the heat of the flames.
She saw only her dragon—her glorious, golden dragon.