Hugh Hammer (ASOIF/SI)

 She observed her cousin flying his dragon, swooping and turning

 through the clear air, even daring to dart between and around the

 towers of the Eyrie, the great seat of House Arryn of the Vale.

 She sighed, and not for the first time she wished to have a dragon to

 join her brother in his antics upon Tyraxes, but alas none of the three

 dragon eggs she was in possession of had hatched. Rhaena had

 wished she had been present at the 'sowing of the seeds', for surely

 she would have been able to claim one of the great beasts? For was

 she not of the blood of Old Valyria? Was her hair and eyes, her pale

 skin not proof of her heritage, or her ability to ride a dragon? And had

 not her sister Baela hatched a dragon, a young thing as of yet, but a

 dragon, nonetheless.

 And had not Baela refused point blank to be packed off to the Eyrie,

 insisting that she would not leave her betrothed Prince Jacaerys. Her

 wilder sister had been obstinate on this point and had not budged,

 and so she had accompanied her cousin Joffrey to the Vale and to

 the seat of the Arryn's, the impregnable castle of the Eyrie.

 She had learned by raven of the so called 'sowing of the seeds', of

 how nigh on a hundred had tried to claim the wild dragons on

 Dragonstone, and how only four had succeeded, a Man at Arms, a

 bastard Blacksmith, a boy whose mother claimed him to be the

 bastard of Laenor Velaryon and some half wild, half summer islander

 girl.

 Rhaena supposed that she was safe here in the heart of the Vale,

 safe but isolated, and bored if she was honest, the Vale might be the

 seat of the Andal conquest of Westeros and full to the brim of martial

 pride, but the court of the Falcon's bored her if she was honest.

The attention she was garnering from the court as a Princess was

 nice, flattering even, but it did not make up the isolation of the Eyrie.

 One spent all of one's days in the castle, for there was nowhere else

 to go. Hunting trips, riding, even visiting other places was not

 something that was undertaken by the residents of the Eyrie, except

 for forays to the valley of the Eyrie, a narrow strip of arable land that

 hugged the mountain side from the Bloody Gate to the Eyrie itself.

 On one side the mountains of the Moon soared away into the sky, on

 the other side of the narrow land, at most several leagues wide, the

 land fell away in cliffs and steep mountains to the floor of the Vale of

 Arryn. This small parcel of land was dotted with forests and farms,

 and two small villages. A lot of the food and wood used by the Eyrie

 came from here, there were some forests preserved for hunting and

 one could hawk also. But the extent of this was constrained by the

 land available, and the looming mountains always seemed to be

 pressing down on Rhaena, seeming to frown at her she imagined

 sometimes. And the court did not avail of such pastimes as often as

 she had assumed they would, preferring instead to gossip and plot in

 the castle.

 The castle was big enough to house the court, that was certain, but

 after strolling around the walls and through the gardens so many

 times, there was nothing new to be seen, nothing new to be

 experienced. It was probably just as well that Baela had refused to

 come here, her sister would have fled the place before a moon had

 turned from sheer boredom.

 At least Joffrey had his dragon and the training in the yards to divert

 him, for her the only thing she had to cling to was the lilagon hen

 izula ampā perzyssy, the ancient dance and strengthening routines

 of the Freehold. The Septa she had been assigned had been

 scandalised when she had first seen her practising her Vagonava

 forms, scolding her harshly for unladylike behaviour and even

 deigning to lay hands upon her person to stop her from practising.

 Being a Princess herself and being no stranger to the more martial

 forms of the lilagon hen izula ampā perzyssy, she had reacted

instinctively, and broken the Septa's hold on her arm and smacked

 the palm of her hand into the woman's cheek, sending her stumbling

 away to trip and fall over her habit.

 A brief explanation to Lady Arryn had resulted in the Septa being

 discharged from her duties, though the Septon looked to be none too

 pleased, in fact the Septon of the Eyrie looked none too pleased

 every day Rhaena had noticed. The Septon had also remonstrated

 over her pursuits, and over her being schooled by the Maester with

 her cousin Joffrey. Lady Arryn had remarked that she was a

 Targaryen Princess and not some girl whose only role would be

 'smiling and having babies', and that Lady Arryn had been instructed

 by the Queen herself to see to her daughter's education.

 In return Lady Arryn and her dear friend Lady Jessamyn had taken to

 often attending her when she practised her forms, the two even

 sometimes joining her, Rhaena had not brought any books on the

 arts with her, but she knew many of them off by heart. And she could

 instruct the two older ladies in some of the easier of the forms,

 though they seemed ill inclined to learn any of the more complicated

 forms.

 Rhaena made sure she practised at least every second day,

 sometimes spending hours lost in the moves and forms, her mind

 blank as all she concentrated on was the next form, the next

 repetition.

 One thing she had noticed almost immediately was the interest in

 her from the various knights and Lords, though none were so bold

 has to actually ask for her hand in marriage, at least yet anyway. She

 suspected that the reputation of her father was enough to scare off

 any potential suitors, and she was a Princess, daughter of the

 Protector of the Realm and until his death over Shipbreaker Bay,

 betrothed to the second in line to the Throne, Prince Lucerys.

 And if she was honest she would expect a rather higher match than

 some of the hopefuls who were indirectly courting her, and courting

 her they were, she was not imagining it. It made her feel confused if

she was honest, the attention was nice, sometimes… especially if

 the Knight or young Lord was handsome. But at other times it was

 unwelcome, especially if the Lord or Knight was ugly, or fat, or

 heavens above, old….But she had to remember that she was not

 free in respect to who she might or might not marry, she was a

 Princess, she would in all likelihood be bartered to whomever gave

 her House the most advantage. And as they were at war, that could

 mean almost anyone, and there was her father to consider, he was a

 harsh and often cruel man, that she knew, though he had never been

 cruel or harsh to her or her sister. The opposite in fact, but she knew

 enough of his reputation, through whispers and gossip to know that

 the so-called Rogue Prince would likely have the biggest say in who

 and when she married. The Queen would have an input no doubt,

 but she knew it would be her father who would decide in the end.

 Lady Arryn had been at pains to remind her court that the Princess

 was here for her protection and that should any harm befall her, and

 at the word harm the Lady of the Vale had paused and let it sink in

 what exactly she meant by harm; reminding all present that her

 father and mother would be most displeased, as would likely be their

 dragons.

 Thus, the coterie of guards that had accompanied them from

 Dragonstone were bolstered by additional household guards of

 House Arryn, rather fetching looking in their sky-blue cloaks she had

 to admit.

 Apart from her practising of the Forms and the odd trip into the valley

 of the Eyrie, she spent time at the court of the Falcons, watching

 Lady Arryan preside over her Lords and Knights. She dined most

 evenings in the Great Hall, it was set for all of the Lords and Ladies

 that made up the Court of the Falcon.

 One thing she had learned already was that Lady Arryn had an

 uncertain hold over her Lords, many, if not openly defied her, at least

 were less than immediately obedient to her wishes. She had asked

 Lady Arryn about that one day and had received a rather surprising

 reply.

'They cannot stand that I, a woman, rule, nor can they stand that

 your good-mother rules as Queen. Many would much more likely

 support Aegon the Pretender than your mother, and many would like

 nothing more for me to be deposed and replaced by one of my many

 male relatives. For now they are cowed, a dragon helps, but its more

 the reputation of your father and mgood-mother that are keeping

 them in line. If given half a chance more than a third of my banner

 men would revolt, attempt to depose me and join the Greens.'

 This had shocked Rhaena to the core, that a great Lady's banner

 men could be so, so disloyal. She was glad she was a Targaryen

 and that her family had dragons, for none of their bannermen would

 ever be disloyal. No, the threat of Fire and Blood kept her family's

 vassals in line and loyal. It was only the fact that Alicent and her get

 had Dragons that had started this war in the first place, without

 dragons they would never have dared challenged for the Iron

 Throne.

 Rhaena pondered this, it seemed to her that the lesson was clear,

 they could only depend on their dragons for power, all their

 supposedly loyal bannermen were only loyal because they feared

 the dragons.

 Back in the present Rhaena watched as Joffrey brought Tyraxes in

 for a landing in one of the courts of the Eyrie, the dragon consented

 to have Joffrey's saddle removed by handlers from Dragonstone that

 had accompanied them, then the beast lurched back into the air and

 made off. It likely went off to hunt and to roost somewhere Rhaena

 mused, for it was a strangely independent beast for one so young.

 With another sigh she wished she had a dragon and once again

 wondered why the eggs she had brought with her stubbornly refused

 to hatch, despite the prayers to the Fourteen she said over them

 every night before she slept.