Chapter Text
In the year 153 AC, the last dragon died. In the following decades, House Targaryen truly fell from being closer to gods than men to being just like men, and with that, they were gazed upon with even more scrutiny. There were eggs, however, that remained; though everyone believed them to be turned to stone, some still held out the hope that they would one day hatch. And so the years waned, from Aegon III, to his sons Daeron and Baelor, to his brother Viserys, and even to his nephew Aegon IV; no dragons hatched.
As the tensions that bred the First Blackfyre Rebellion began to stir, away at Summerhall did the winds shift unexpectedly. Lady Dyanna Dayne took to the birthing bed for the first time; her pregnancy had been long and harrowing, filled with complication after complication. Many feared she would die and that the already stern Prince Maekar would become even sterner, but Lady Dyanna survived, bringing forth a girl who bore nothing but the appearance of Old Valyria, an appearance some would argue was more striking than that of any of her relatives.
It wasn't supposed to happen; on that all can agree, but it did. The accounts vary as to how the egg reached the infant princess; some say that the egg was placed in the cradle by her parents, others say that it was gifted by Princess Elaena after she had long given up on its ability to hatch. Regardless of how Prince Maekar's daughter ended up with the egg, the fact remained that it hatched at the hour of the Wolf, waking all of Summerhall with its screech. "A miracle," everyone had whispered. While His Grace King Daeron II delighted in the news, others viewed it with caution, and though none would dare say it, many hoped that the hatchling would die.
The hatchling was strong, healthy, and fierce; any doubts of its survival were quickly put to rest. Prince Maekar and Lady Dyanna, as soon as the lady recovered from the difficult birth, decided to name their infant daughter Daenys Targaryen, since it became clear that, like her namesake, the very future of House Targaryen would inevitably lie with her, even if she was a daughter of the fourth son of the king. But even an omen such as this one could not deter the hubris of ambition. While Princess Daenys and her hatchling, which she took to calling Verraxes, continued to grow happily and freely at Summerhall, the tensions between the many children of King Aegon IV came to a head. When she was but six namedays old, the First Blackfyre Rebellion had broken out. It was then that Daenys' life had begun to feel like a cage.
Her grandsire, taking no chances with his granddaughter's safety and that of her dragon, had ordered her to be warded on Dragonstone with her aunt and her cousins while her father had gone to war. Cruel, some had called it. For her to be separated from her mother and siblings, but Lady Dyanna was assured that the measure was necessary and only temporary. But the memory had stuck for the young princess, the first of many reminders that she was different.
Four years after the Blackfyre Rebellion had come to a close, a Targaryen once more ascended to the skies. Princess Daenys had been deterred from mounting Verraxes for three years, even though the dragon was large enough for it. Gifted a saddle by her uncle, Prince Baelor, for her tenth nameday, the Princess wasted no time taking to the skies, and as soon as she landed, her personality became all the more willful. It became a challenge to keep the girl out of the skies and her temperament demure, for she was as fiery as any dragonlord before her, much to the aggravation of her father.
This bout of defiance only worsened when her mother succumbed to childbed fever when she was four and ten. It was said that when the news of her mother's passing reached the young princess, the cries of Verraxes could be heard over Summerhall for days on end. Daenys noticeably became distant after that, for the warmth she shared with her siblings had dissipated save for her youngest ones. Her brother Daeron drowned himself in his cups, for which the Princess had on more than one occasion called him pathetic. As for her brother Aerion, he had grown worse with his cruelty. After an incident where he allegedly harmed her youngest brother, Aegon's cat, the Princess was said to have threatened to feed him to her dragon; the incident required the intercession of Prince Maekar.
The fiery temperament of Daenys worried King and court, for the future of dragons lay with the Princess's ability to be married and produce heirs. With begrudging finality, the King had decreed that she would not wed any of her brothers, hoping that it would sate what he believed to be her fear. Surprisingly, it had worked, and Daenys had calmed somewhat, resorting to the skies as an outlet to her anger. But the King's decree had begged the question: if dragons were not to leave House Targaryen, who would the Princess wed? Many thought it would be Prince Valarr, for after his father, he would become King, but it was a match that fell through, for Valarr was betrothed to Kiera of Tyrosh instead.
For three years, Princess Daenys' marriage talks seemingly faded into obscurity, much to the quiet delight of Prince Maekar, who believed that no one was worthy of his daughter's hand, despite all the grief she had given him. But whatever relief the Prince had was soon diminished, for King Daeron the Good had a match in mind: Prince Baelor, the Heir to the Iron Throne. The Princess had been summoned to King's Landing herself to be informed of the match; if she was displeased, she did not show it. Many expected defiance, but instead, the willful Princess smiled demurely and curtsied to her grandsire. Whatever freedom the Princess had come to enjoy had now reached a screeching halt; she would be queen, even if she did not wish to be, and she would bear dragonriding heirs even if she did not wish to.