Rhaenys loved her father more than anyone else in the world, and people often japed that she was his constant shadow.
Her Septa told her that when she was born her mother had been taken ill and had been bedridden for over a year afterwards. During that time, her father had sat with Rhaenys night and day and told her stories. He always told the best stories, she thought.
It quickly became a tradition, and by the time Rhaenys had turned two, she was eagerly awaiting bedtime and whatever adventure he would speak of that night. As she curled up on his lap with sleepy brown eyes, he told her tales of magic and men, of valiant heroes and vicious hellions.
He proudly told her she was a dragon. The way his lilac eyes lit up as he said it made her feel like she was special. She liked that feeling very much. It burrowed itself inside her heart, and she found herself smiling whenever she heard the word.
One thing she particularly loved about her father was how he would stroke her hair until she fell soundly asleep, so as to make sure the monsters under the bed never harmed her.
#sobbing #thisistooperfect #rhaenys targaryen