Dance of The Dragonwolf

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The Following 12 Chapters are available for Patrons.

Chapter 11 (Queen Alysanne), Chapter 12 (House Velayron), Chapter 13 (Reunion), Chapter 14 (Back to Winterfell), Chapter 15 (A Walk Through Memories), Chapter 16 (A Feast), Chapter 17 (A Memory of The Past), Chapter 18 (A Reunion), Chapter 19 (Leaving The North), Chapter 20 (A Song of Happiness), Chapter 21 (A Song of Sorrow), and Chapter 22 (Father and Son) are already available for Patrons.

Red Keep - Early 100 AC

As they darted around the winding paths of the formidable Red Keep, the exhilaration of the chase fueled the adrenaline coursing through the veins of the young Prince and Princess, urging them to run ever faster. The two Kingsguards, loyal sentinels of the realm, trailed closely behind, their armor clanking with each hurried step. Ryam Redwyne, a seasoned warrior and member of the Kingsguard, watched with amusement as the game unfolded before him, the gleeful laughter of the children echoing off the towering walls of the fortress. It was a moment of carefree joy in a world fraught with danger and uncertainty, a fleeting respite from the weighty burdens of royal duty.

As Ryam stood behind Prince Aenar, he couldn't help but chuckle slightly as the young prince leaned in to whisper something in Princess Rhaenyra's ear. The princess's delicate features lit up with a smile as she giggled, her sweet laughter echoing throughout the castle's grand halls. The sound of her laughter was like a melody that filled the air, adding to the already vibrant atmosphere of the bustling gathering. Ryam couldn't help but feel a sense of joy as he watched the young prince and princess interact, their playful banter a reminder of the innocence and beauty that still existed in the midst of the chaos that surrounded them.

Princess Rhaenyra giggled at whatever Aenar told her. Ryam Redwyne still couldn't believe King Jaehaerys wanted him to guard the young Prince. He mainly had guarded the King, so why change now?

Ryam found himself in the grand throne room, where the old king - a man of great wisdom and experience - sat on his throne, radiating an aura of authority and grace. As he noticed Ryam's presence, the king's lips curved into a gentle smile, indicating that he was pleased to see him. "Your grace, you called for me?" Ryam asked, his voice respectful and measured as he bowed respectfully to the monarch. Despite his advanced age, the king's eyes still held the same spark of intelligence and astuteness that Ryam had always admired. However, as he gazed into the king's eyes, Ryam detected a glimmer of sadness that seemed to linger there, casting a shadow over the otherwise regal and dignified countenance of the monarch.

"Indeed I did. Ser Ryam, you have served my family for so long, and I'm grateful for all the years you served House Targaryen." King Jaehaerys spoke slowly due to his old age, and Ryam felt pride. To be praised by the king himself was the highest honor for a kingsguard, but Ryam couldn't help but wonder where the King was going with this.

As Ryam stood before the King. When the King motioned for Ryam to rise from his bow, he wasted no time responding respectfully, "It was my honor, my King." However, despite being given permission to lift his head, Ryam couldn't bring himself to meet the King's gaze directly. He knew that to do so would be a sign of disrespect, even if it was unintentional. Instead, he kept his gaze lowered, his eyes fixed on the intricate patterns of the rug beneath his feet.

"Ryam, I have known you for a long time, and we both know I don't have that much left." The King started before coughing; Ryam was ready to call the maester when the King motioned for him not to move from his place.

"Ryam, I want you to watch over Daemon's kid.-"

Ryam escaped his thoughts when he heard the voice of Prince Aenar. His eyes quickly found the purple eyes of the prince looking back at him.

With a curious gaze fixed upon the Kingsguard, Prince Aenar leaned forward and inquired, "What is your name??" His tone was polite and reserved, yet there was an unmistakable air of interest in his voice. As the Kingsguard stood tall and proud, his armor glistening in the sunlight

Ser Ryam was a tall man, almost as tall as Prince Daemon. His visage is framed by a short white beard that runs across his jawline, and his hair is pure white as if reflecting his years of wisdom and experience. Though his face bears the marks of time, etched into his skin like a map of battles fought and won, there is still a fierce determination in his eyes, a glint that speaks of a lifetime of service to the realm and a willingness to fight at a moment's notice. Despite his old age, His commitment to chivalry and honor was apparent in every step he took, despite the weight of his armor. Even at his advanced age, Ryam moved with the grace and agility of a much younger man. Though his hair was white and his face lined with wrinkles, his form was that of a young knight.

"Ryam Redwyne. My Prince." The knight answered with a soft smile towards the little prince; Aenar had to stop himself from gasping. Ser Ryam was considered the greatest kingsguard ever to live, even in his old life. Aenar remembered he had once talked with Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime about the Kingsguards of the past.

Jaime had grown up wanting to be like Ser Arthur Dayne, while Barristan told him that he had always been fascinated by the tales of Ser Ryam Redwyne, the knight who had served as Hand of the King for a year but had been the worst hand of the king in Westeros history, but an excellent Commander of the Kingsguard.

Now being in front of the man himself, Aenar had to admit that the man looked somewhat similar to Ser Barristan, if not a bit older, but Aenar could see the man was still a force to be reckoned with, the way his eyes paid attention to everything around him, Aenar knew the old kingsguard was wary all the time.

As they strolled down the winding corridors of The Red Keep, Aenar's curiosity got the best of him, and he turned to Ser Ryam with a question in his mind. "Ser Ryam," he asked inquisitively, "What is it truly like to fight in a tourney? My father always speaks of your triumphs in the lists, and I can only imagine the thrill and excitement that comes with such triumphs." As their footsteps echoed against the hard stone floor

"Fighting in Tourney is an event, your grace, nothing more, is an event to entertain people, but a good opportunity to show your strength. My Name carries weight, your grace; someone would be less likely to try anything if he saw a famous knight guarding the Royal Family." Ser Ryam answered bluntly, earning a nudge from his old sword brother, giving him a disapproving look.

Harrold gave him a look as if saying that he should not have said such words to a Young Prince. Not telling him there were people out who would want to harm him since he was still only four name days.

As they walked up the grand staircase, the sound of their footsteps echoed throughout the castle's corridors. Prince Aenar led the way, while Ser Ryam followed closely behind him. As they reached the top of the stairs, a sudden silence engulfed them. "I understand, Ser Ryam. Can I ask you something else?" Prince Aenar asked after a short pause with a friendly smile. Ryam was quite surprised that the young prince was asking permission. He smiled softly.

"You can ask me anything you want, your grace," Ryam answered warmly. As they turned a corner and walked upstairs, Ryam recognized this part of the castle; Prince Viserys and his family lived in this tower, and the servants bowed their heads to the young Prince and Princess as they passed them.

"Is it true that you broke 30 lances with Ser Clement Clab?" Aenar asked with a hint of curiosity as he gave the old knight a quick look over his shoulder.

"It's true, your grace, none of us wanted to surrender; Ser Clement was a good knight and a wonderful jouster. Your great-grandfather made us both champions after our thirty lances were destroyed, and still, none of us wanted to give up." Ryam answered, remembering the tourney fondly. That tourney had been the most challenging out of all tourneys he had participated in.

"Perhaps my great grandfather was afraid you would most likely soon run out of lances than either of you giving up." Aenar japed, earning a chuckle from both the old knights, especially Harrold Westerling, who remembered the day quite well, thinking the tourney would never end; even the audience had started getting bored after the tenth lance was destroyed.

As Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Aenar strolled down the long corridor of the castle, the sound of their footsteps echoed through the stone halls. Rhaenyra's bright laughter filled the air as they approached her mother's chamber. As they arrived, the two Kingsguards, dressed in their gleaming armor with swords at the ready, stood tall and strong, stood before the door. With a small nod to the guards, Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Aenar walked inside the chamber

"He's a Good Kid." Ser Harrold commented the moment the door closed behind them. Ser Ryam nodded silently in agreement, his mind going back to the words the king had said to him. He wondered why his king wanted him close to Prince Aenar.

Aenar Targaryen

As the door creaked open, Princess Aemma looked up from her book with a smile that lit up her face as she saw Rhaenyra enter the room. "Rhaenyra, you're finally back," she exclaimed with a sense of relief in her voice as she rose from her comfortable chair. Her warm and welcoming tone made it clear that she was happy to see her daughter again after. The princess motioned for Rhaenyra to take a seat across from her, the sweet aroma of the freshly brewed tea that sat on the table between them before Aemma eyes noticed Aenar standing behind Rhaenyra.

"Oh, Aenar, come closer, my dear." Aemma motioned for him to get closer as Rhaenyra kissed her mother's cheeks.

As Aenar approached Queen Aemma, his emotions were in turmoil, his heart heavy with the knowledge of the inevitable fate that awaited her. Despite the lump that had formed in his throat, he couldn't help but feel grateful for the four years he had known her, during which time she had proven to be a sweet and compassionate woman, devoted to her daughter Rhaenyra. As he drew closer, Aenar summoned all his strength, putting on a brave face and wearing a bright smile. She kissed his forehead.

Aemma approached Aenar with a playful grin on her face, her eyes sparkling mischievously as she furrowed her brow in mock annoyance. "I heard my daughter is bothering you once again," she quipped, her voice filled with amusement. Aenar chuckled in response, his deep laughter echoing through the room as he glanced over at the young girl who stood nearby, her arms crossed in frustration as she pouted in annoyance.

"I'm not bothering him. Me and Aenar are friends." Rhaenyra proclaimed proudly; Aemma's eyes flickered at her daughter before turning back to Aenar, who was wearing a sly smile.

"Right?" Rhaenyra asked, turning to look at Aenar, who smiled wickedly as if he was about something horrible. Nyra gave him a pleading look.

Aenar's cheeky grin was impossible to miss as he responded to Aemma's concern about her daughter's antics with a simple yet effective statement, "Your daughter- is too stubborn." Aemma was taken aback for a moment, but as she looked over at her daughter, she couldn't help but almost burst out laughing as she watched the little girl narrow her eyes and cross her arms in defiance towards Aenar's comment.

"What is that supposed to mean, Aenar Targaryen?" Rhaenyra asked with the most threatening tone she could muster; Her gaze was fixed on the young prince who stood before her, trying to hide his smirk behind his hand. She narrowed her eyes, trying to appear as menacing as possible, but her small stature and high-pitched voice made her sound more adorable than intimidating.

Aemma and Aenar barely contained their laughter, Aemma loved the way her daughter pouted sometimes, and when she tried to act angry, she looked cute.

"By that, I mean you came into my room with spider webs in your hair," Aenar answered as Aemma burst out laughing at the red face Rhaenyra made, especially how she looked betrayed.

"That is a vile accusation, Prince Aenar," Rhaenyra claimed as Aenar joined in the laughter with Aemma. Soon their laughter died down, and Aemma grabbed Rhaenyra's hand.

"Aenar, why don't you go to your mother?" Aemma said sweetly, her voice like honey as she gently stroked her daughter Rhaenyra's hair, who was trying to break free from her mother's grasp. "I need to wash my darling daughter," she continued, lovingly glancing at the little girl. Aenar bowed his head respectfully before leaving the chamber while calling Rhaenyra was calling him a traitor.

Later

He was breaking his fast with his family. It had started quiet, and his mother had asked his father how soon Summerhall would be built; Daemon told her that it should be completed by 105 AC which meant around five more years before they could move to their own house and have their own land, soon his mother started warning Aenar about what he should and shouldn't do while they are in Winterfell, how he should act as a Prince of the Realm and not do anything foolish or do pranks with Laena.

Aenar had never been in Winterfell in this new life, and he had yet to see anyone from his mother's family, but he couldn't help but feel annoyed at his mother giving him a full lecture on how he should and shouldn't act in Winterfell.

"When you're there, I don't want you to go around exploring with Rhaenyra and Laena, especially not in the crypts. If you want to see the crypts, you must have permission from Lord Stark. Are we clear?" Lyanna asked with a strict tone; Daemon chuckled beside her. Lyanna quickly fixed him with a glare that made Daemon close his mouth.

"Lyanna, Aenar knows boundaries. We both know he would rather listen to the Maester preach about the Seven for an hour than go around an unknown castle without permission." Daemon reassured her as he ate a piece of boiled egg with oiled bread. Baked sausages glisten with a generous drizzle of honey, and a refreshing sweet drink, made from a blend of water, honey, and lemon. But that was just the beginning of their feast, as they were treated to a mouth-watering stew made with tender chunks of meat and served with a hearty slice of freshly baked bread. And as if that wasn't enough, a succulent fish, baked to perfection in clay, was also presented before him. All of these delectable dishes were served on a stunning red fabric sourced all the way from Braavos. As Aenar savored each and every bite, he couldn't help but be transported by the heavenly aroma emanating from his table, which only served to heighten his gastronomical delight.

Daemon was quite happy to see that Aenar was eating his food and not just going through the notion, his hunger sometimes caught him off guard, but knowing how much Aenar liked to walk around, play with Rhaenyra, and Daemon training him once a week, he shouldn't be surprised. Daemon couldn't help but smile as he thought about how his little boy was growing up so quickly and how much he enjoyed these simple family bonding moments over a meal.

Aenar wasn't sure if he was ready to return to Winterfell, he feared that his nightmares would return to him, but he quickly dismissed the thought. He needed to just forget about them and focus on the future. His mind went to Cannibal. Knowing him, he would follow him to Winterfell. And if King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne were coming along and adding House Velayron to that. That meant there would be six fully-grown dragons in Winterfell.

As Aenar savored the taste of the boiled egg, he turned to his father with an innocent smile and asked, "Father, can we go see the Wall while we are at Winterfell?"

His question got Daemon and Lyanna by surprise, especially the Northern She-Wolf. "Why would you want to see the Wall, Aenar?" Lyanna asked with a furrowed brow. She had stopped eating, as did Daemon.

"I only want to see it. It's said to be the most incredible thing ever built," Aenar answered casually as if the answer to the question was obvious.

"Well, maybe, but we must ask the King and my father for permission," Daemon answered as he thought about The Wall. He didn't ever really care about the thing. Whatever was beyond the wall didn't really matter to him. What mattered the most was the people in front of him. They were the only ones that mattered.

"Muna, is it true the Kings of Winter used to ride Direwolves to battle?" Aenar asked, looking at his mother with excitement.

"Yes, Aenar, it is indeed true. The Kings of Winter were skilled warriors who rode their Direwolves into battle, striking fear into the hearts of their enemies and securing their place as one of the most fearsome and revered houses in all the land."

Aenar didn't know why, but having someone to call mother and not be yelled at for it, felt relieving. He couldn't stop saying it, and he always enjoyed it when they both smiled at him; Aenar would often feel as if he would cry at any moment but always managed to hold himself. This is what it is like to have a family.

Later

Rhaenyra's voice echoed softly through the King's Landing Gardens as she leaned casually against the Weirwood Tree, "Do you think, Laena will be there?" Rhaenyra asked as she was leaning against the Weirwood Tree in King's Landing.

Ever since Aenar discovered the existence of the Weirwood tree, he had been coming to this secluded spot, hidden away from the world's prying eyes. It was here that he found solace in the tranquil surroundings, basking in the sacred aura of the trees. The rustling of the leaves and the gentle sway of the branches soothed his troubled mind, and he found himself drawn to this place time and time again. It wasn't long before Rhaenyra joined him on his visits to the Weirwood tree. She, too, found comfort in the serenity of this place, relishing the chance to escape the judgmental stares of the lords and ladies of the court. Here, they could be themselves, free from the constraints of their titles and positions. Rhaenyra cherished the moments they spent together, uninterrupted by the outside world.

Aenar was sitting beside her as if he was reading a book about Winterfell and The North in general. As she watched him intently, she marveled at his ability to absorb the information within, despite being only four years old. The book was filled with vivid descriptions of the sprawling castles, the rugged terrain, and the powerful Houses that ruled over each castle. Aenar was fully engrossed in its contents, his eyes darting across the pages as he read with the utmost concentration. Rhaenyra couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at her cousin's intelligence.

When it was spread that Aenar had started reading at such a young age, the servants, ladies, and lords had started gossiping that Aenar would be the Next Jaehaerys Targaryen when Viserys and Aemma had learned about it from Daemon himself, who had boasted about it, Aemma had suggested that Rhaenyra should start learning too, not to be left behind.

But Rhaenyra wasn't interested yet in learning stupid letters. If she needed to read or write anything, she had Aenar with her; sadly, the traitor that he was, Aenar had told her that she needed to learn how to write and learn, but she could wait until she reached six name days like everybody else.

"I hope so, she's quite funny, and I'm eager to see if she has started learning how to use a dagger as she told us she would." His voice trailed off as he continued reading, his attention still fixed on the book. Rhaenyra, lost in her own thoughts, simply hummed to herself. Who could guess that Lady Laena would start learning how to use Daggers because Aenar had somehow convinced her.

As Prince Aenar and Princess Rhaenyra sat under the shade of the towering trees in God's Wood of King's Landing, they felt a sense of comfort envelop them in the peaceful silence that surrounded them. The only sounds that could be heard were the delightful chirping of birds singing their melodies in the trees, the gentle rustling of leaves as a soft breeze swept through the forest, and the subtle sound of Prince Aenar turning the pages of his book as he read in silence. The sun filtered through the leaves, casting a warm glow on the forest floor, and the scent of wildflowers and fresh earth filled the air. It was a moment of pure bliss, and Aenar and Nyra savored it, grateful for the opportunity to escape the chaos of King's Landing and lose themselves in the serenity of nature.

Rhaenyra was playing with a wooden doll that looked like a Dragon. Her fingers delicately holding a wooden doll that resembled a dragon. The doll was intricately carved and painted to replicate every detail of a real-life breathing dragon, complete with sharp claws, wide wings, and a long tail. As Rhaenyra played with the doll, her imagination took flight, and she imagined herself soaring through the clouds on the back of a dragon like Silverwing, feeling the wind in her hair and the sun on her face. Suddenly, her attention was drawn to Aenar, who was sitting beside her, lost in a book. She watched him for a few moments, admiring his sharp features and the way his eyes moved quickly across the page.

"Aenar, what nightmares do you have at night?" Rhaenyra's voice pierced through the silence of the dimly lit chamber, causing Aenar's heart to skip a beat. He had been engrossed in the book he was reading when Rhaenyra's sudden question pulled him back to reality. Aenar's eyes slowly lifted from the book's pages, and he turned his gaze toward Rhaenyra. For a moment, Aenar was speechless. His breath caught in his throat. He had never shared his deepest fears with anyone, not even with Rhaenyra.

"What do you mean?" Aenar asked with a furrowed brow. Not even his parents knew of his unpleasant dreams.

"The three times I slept in your bed, you always moved around while you slept. You're cold and sweating and murmur things I don't understand." Rhaenyra's voice trembled with a slight hint of concern while avoiding Aenar's eyes.

"What do I say?"

"Not much, but you always murmur names like Dany and Bloodfyre. Who are they?" Rhaenyra asked innocently as she looked back at Aenar's face, who went a little pale.

Bloodfyre? Who is that? Aenar thought. He knew his past memories weren't clear, but he couldn't remember anyone with that name. He knew he dreamed of Dany and Rhaenys, but he couldn't remember anyone with the name Bloodfyre.

"Do you have, perhaps, Muna fever?" Rhaenyra asked childishly as she leaned closer to Aenar, who got confused now.

"Muna fever?" Aenar asked with a tilt of his head as he closed the big book on his lap with a loud thud.

"Yes, Muna always says that when you're young, the child should sleep in the same room as their parent so they feel loved, and if they're scared, Muna can kiss them, and they won't be afraid anymore," Rhaenyra said with an innocent smile.

Aenar rolled his eyes playfully as he stood up, brushing off the red leaves around his clothes, the weirwood tree in King's Landing was beautiful, and Aenar loved to spend time there. It reminded him of God's Wood in Winterfell. He grabbed Rhaenyra's hand, helping her to stand up, hoping to change the subject.

"How about we go inside, Nyra? I'm sure my father can take us on a ride with Caraxes?" Aenar suggested, soon leaving the god's wood of King's Landing.

Rhaenyra's mischievous side always seemed to surface whenever she was with her cousin, Aenar. They were like two peas in a pod, always in cahoots and coming up with ways to have fun. As they walked past the bakery, the sweet aroma of freshly baked cakes wafted toward them, making Rhaenyra's mouth water. Without hesitation, she turned to her cousin with a sly grin and asked, "Aenar, can we go and steal strawberry cakes first?"Aenar's eyes lit up with excitement as he nodded in agreement, his smile as bright as the summer sun. Rhaenyra always enjoyed breaking the rules with him; it was their little secret, their way of sticking it to the stuffy adults who thought they knew better. Together, they snuck into the bakery and made a beeline for the strawberry cakes, their mouths watering with anticipation. As they grabbed the sweet treats and made their escape, Rhaenyra couldn't help but feel a rush of adrenaline course through her veins. She knew they were breaking the rules, but the thrill of it all was just too irresistible to ignore.

Rhaenys Targaryen

As she watched the waves crashing against the rocks of Driftmark, the salty sea air whipping through her hair, she couldn't help but feel a sense of awe as she watched the waves crash against the jagged rocks. The rhythmic sound of the water was almost hypnotic, and for a moment, she forgot about everything else in the world. It was then that her eyes caught sight of her most trusted companion, Meleys, sleeping peacefully in a large green field nearby. Meleys was unlike most dragons. Typically, they preferred to find dark, damp caves to sleep in, hiding away from the world and keeping to themselves. But not Meleys. She was a creature of the open fields, at home beneath the wide-open sky and surrounded by the beauty of nature. As she slept, her wings were splayed out, her scales glistened in the sun, and her chest rose and fell with each breath. It was a peaceful sight, one that filled Rhaenys with a sense of contentment and joy.

As Rhaenys's mind wandered, her thoughts were consumed by her little girl, Laena. Recalling a recent encounter, Rhaenys couldn't help but feel a twinge of bitterness as she remembered observing Laena choosing to spend time with Aenar, Daemon's son, instead of her own friends or even her brother, Laenor. Despite the slight bitterness, Rhaenys found solace in the fact that her daughter was developing close relationships within their family circle.

As she stood on her balcony, gazing out at the vast expanse of the sea before her, she couldn't help but feel a sense of weariness wash over her. With a heavy sigh, she leaned forward, her hands coming to rest upon the cool, smooth stone rails that surrounded her. Despite her exhaustion, however, the soothing sound of the waves crashing against the shore below had a calming effect on her, easing her tension and helping her to relax. A part of her yearned just to ride Meleys and go somewhere for a while. She was a True Dragon, after all. Her eyes eventually went to look in the direction of King's Landing, she felt her anger bubbling up, but she quickly regained her composure, reminding herself that not all was lost.

A Marriage

Rhaenys remembered her uncle's words to her, his promise. While she didn't like him, she knew her uncle was a man of his word and genuinely wanted them to be a happy family again. Despite being a naive thought, it was a good one.

As Rhaenys sat alone with her thoughts, her mind racing with worries and doubts, she was suddenly jolted back to reality by the sound of the door creaking open. Her heart leaped with excitement as she whirled around to see her precious daughter, who had grown in beauty and grace with each passing day. It seemed like only yesterday that she was just a little girl, but now, as she stood before her, Rhaenys could see the makings of a true lady, with seven more years until she reached marrying age.

Laena was a striking woman with a head of silver hair that cascaded down to the middle of her back in a shimmering cascade of beauty. It was a sight to behold, especially when she ran, as her hair would flow behind her in waves, like an elegant dress that danced along with her every movement. The way her hair moved in the wind gave her an ethereal quality as if she were a goddess.

Rhaenys noticed the bright smile on her daughter's face, and she knew only two things could get her daughter to smile like that, Aenar and the thought of claiming a Dragon for herself.

Laena was always fascinated by dragons, and since finding out Cannibal would be Aenar's Dragon, she had started saying that she wanted to claim a Dragon as large as Cannibal. Saying she had dreamed of her and Aenar flying together in their own large dragons. Rhaenys had quickly reminded her daughter that the only dragon that could rival Cannibal in terms of size was Vhagar, who Prince Baelon had claimed.

Rhaenys noticed her daughter was holding something in her beautiful delicate little hands, a scroll. Rhaenys frowned slightly when she noticed the dagger strapped to Laena's waist, but she decided to ignore that for now.

"Laena, what brings you to my chamber?" Rhaenys asked sharply. Despite being her mother, she always spoke with authority as she walked up to Laena. Her daughter handed her a sealed scroll with wax. The imprint of the Targaryen's sigil on the wax was a clear indication of the importance of the message contained within as Rhaenys broke the seal with a swift motion.

Rhaenys quickly removed the seal; Rhaenys unfurled the scroll, revealing the neatly written words that lay within. Her daughter almost jumped from anticipation, waiting for her mother to read whatever was written.

To Lord Corlys Velayron and Princess Rhaenys Targaryen

We invite you to come to the Wedding in Winterfell of Princess Gael Targaryen and Lord Rickon Stark. The wedding will be held within two moons. Your whole family is invited there, and so is the entire House Targaryen, including the King and Queen. We hope to receive a raven from you.

From The Crown Prince Baelon Targaryen

Rhaenys felt a little sour at what she read at the bottom, but nonetheless, this was an opportunity for Laena to spend time with Daemon's kid. But she was surprised to learn that the King and Queen were going to Winterfell despite their old age.

As she delicately placed the scroll onto the nearby table, her eyes met with her daughter's, who eagerly awaited the words that were inscribed on it. With a deep breath, Rhaenys began to inform her daughter of the news that was written on the parchment, "It seems we are going to Winterfell, and Daemon's boy will be there." The room was filled with anticipation as her daughter's face lit up with a big smile, and she jumped up and down in excitement.

While Rhaenys felt happy for her daughter, she couldn't help but fear what Daemon's boy would be like when he grew up.

I just hope I won't regret this.

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