More than a month had gone by.
On Dragonstone Island, inside the Stone Drum Tower, the cobblestoned bath bubbled and steamed, filling the air with a thick mist. A figure lay submerged in the boiling water, long silver-gold hair draped over the edge of the pool, his entire body motionless except for the faint sound of snoring.
Crunch.
The bathroom door creaked open and a silhouette entered. Long silver-gold hair cascaded down her back, a black strapless dress accentuated her figure, and her bright purple eyes shone with a subtle luster.
Rhaenyra bent her knees and sat by the pool, gazing serenely at the person in the water through the steam. After a while, a mischievous smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. She twisted a strand of hair that had fallen into the pool and playfully brushed it against his handsome cheek.
"Rhaegar, you are so boring."
Rhaegar muttered without opening his eyes, ducking sideways, "Rhaenyra, stop."
Letting go of the hair, Rhaenyra reached out to pinch the tip of his nose and teased, "Get up, father and the others are here."
A month had passed. The two siblings had hidden away on Dragonstone Island, spending their days together in seclusion. The tournament had ended, and Viserys and Alicent were busy hosting the many guests and preparing for the great journey to Dragonstone Island for the upcoming ceremony.
"Wake me when we get ashore. I'm exhausted," Rhaegar murmured, turning over in the water. He lifted his arms to wrap around Rhaenyra's waist, resting his cheek against her dress-covered belly. After a month, her once-flat belly was now slightly curved, and the gown that had once fit perfectly was now a little tight.
According to both Grand Maester Orwyle and Dragonpit Maester Maynard, Rhaenyra was indeed pregnant. Her unique physique had made it difficult to detect before, but at the time of the tournament, she was two months along. Now, at three months, the fetus was stable.
Rhaenyra's eyes softened with a mixture of amusement and helplessness. She patted Rhaegar on the back, urging him like a child, "Do not make me repeat myself. We have important business to attend to."
Rhaegar opened his eyes and complained, "What do you mean I wasn't serious? I spent all night looking for that wild dragon and didn't sleep until dawn."
Rhaenyra scowled, her tone dry, "And did you find it?"
"Well, no..." Rhaegar admitted, momentarily speechless. He rubbed her slightly rounded belly, a playful glint in his eyes, as if trying to coax the baby from within.
The elusive wild dragon was cunning, often flying to Dragonstone Island under the cover of night, exploring the towering Dragonmont. The Dragonkeepers couldn't find a trace of it, only discovering remnants of its presence on the mountain.
The wild dragon had startled the dormant Silverwing the previous night. Rhaegar had driven the Cannibal to track it, but after a fruitless night, he had lost its trail in the darkness.
"Get up, don't make me lecture you," Rhaenyra chided, slapping the water to wake Rhaegar fully.
She called softly toward the door, "Daella, come in."
The bathroom door opened, and a figure entered, head bowed over a tray. Silver-blonde curls framed a face with translucent white skin, bearing a slight resemblance to Rhaenyra.
Daella knelt by the pool, setting down the tray of laundry and offering a washcloth.
"Get out," Rhaegar said flatly, turning away.
Daella remained silent, glancing timidly at Rhaenyra. With a nod from Rhaenyra, she tiptoed out.
As soon as the door closed, Rhaegar stepped out of the water and wrapped his arms around Rhaenyra, nibbling on her bare neck.
"Rhaegar, don't be mean," Rhaenyra giggled, half-heartedly pushing him away while enjoying the intimacy.
She knew he was expressing his displeasure. The bastard daughters had fallen into her hands, and instead of dealing with them privately or kicking them out, she had kept Daella as her personal maid and given the younger Layla to Helaena as a playmate. It was a constant reminder to Rhaegar to mind his own business.
After some playful splashing, which soaked the hem of her black dress and outlined her delicate figure, Rhaegar calmed himself and began drying off and dressing.
"Rhaegar, carry me out," Rhaenyra demanded, her eyes dreamy and her body tingling.
Leaning down to kiss her glossy forehead, Rhaegar whispered, "You're the queen."
...
In the blink of an eye, several days passed.
Dragonstone Island, Dragonmont.
On a flat open space, several bonfires were lit, and thousands of princes and nobles gathered.
Targaryen, Velaryon, Celtigar—all the Valyrian Houses were present.
Everywhere on Dragonmont, giant dragons were either lounging or flying free.
At the center of the crowd, two figures stood facing each other.
Beneath his long silver-gold hair, Rhaegar wore a red and white outer robe with a wide, thick linen belt. His face was stoic, his long hair worn casually.
Rhaenyra stood with her head bowed, an ancient wooden headdress on her head.
Under the watchful eyes of most of the nobles and lords of the Seven Kingdoms, a ceremony following ancient Valyrian traditions was taking place.
Rhaenyra bowed her head slightly, holding a sharp dragonglass in her hand. She cut her lower lip, releasing a trickle of crimson blood.
Rhaegar held her hand and used the dragonglass to similarly cut his own lower lip.
They each dipped their forefingers into the blood, marking each other's foreheads with a vague symbol.
The marks were ancient Valyrian words.
Rhaegar's forehead bore the symbol for "blood.
Rhaenyra's forehead bore the symbol for "fire."
The black dragonglass continued to move, slicing through their palms and spurting blood.
Rhaegar and Rhaenyra looked into each other's eyes, seemingly impervious to the pain, and clasped their bleeding palms tightly.
A gold silk ribbon on a black background was wrapped around their joined hands, symbolizing the binding of their hearts.
Outside, Maester Maynard of the Dragon's Lair held his walking stick and chanted in High Valyrian:
"Hen lantoti anogar, Va syndroti vãedroma (Blood of two, Joined as one)."
Rhaenyra accepted a bronze goblet and took a slow, shallow sip before handing it to Rhaegar.
"Mēro perzot gihoti / Elēdroma iärza sir (Ghostly flame and song of shadows)."
Rhaegar, without breaking eye contact, took the goblet.
"Izuli ampā perzi, Prumi lanti sēteksi (Two hearts as embers, Forged in fourteen fires)."
Under the eyes of many, he raised the cup to his lips and drank.
Maynard's voice was low as he continued the benediction:
"Hen jeny mazilarion, Qēlossa ozundesi (A future promised in glass, The stars stand witness.)"
"Syndroro oño jēdo, Ry kivia mazvestraksi (The vow spoken through time, Of darkness and light)."
By the fire, Viserys watched with excitement as the long-awaited scene unfolded. Alicent, supporting her husband, heard him whisper the word "Aemma" and her lips twitched slightly.
The four younger siblings—Aegon, Helaena, Aemond, and Daeron—stood side by side, looking at their eldest sister and brother with solemnity.
This was a traditional ceremony of the ancient Valyrian Dragonlords, transcending theceremonies of the Seven Gods of Westeros.
The bronze goblet clattered to the floor as the siblings smiled at each other.
Rhaegar leaned forward slightly, his blood-stained lips parting slightly.
Rhaenyra gazed at him fondly, tilting her head closer in response.
In that moment, all resentments vanished, leaving only love and tenderness.
Their silhouettes gradually overlapped, their hands caressing each other's necks, entwined as if intoxicated.
"Roar-"
Cannibal, perched atop Dragonmont, let out a deafening roar, his green eyes watching the ceremony below.
"Roar..."
Syrax roared incessantly, lifting his wings and hovering over the clearing, releasing a mouthful of golden dragonfire.
The dragons did their best to celebrate their riders.
In response, more dragons joined the chorus of roars.
Dreamfyre, Seasmoke, and Caraxes...
Several dragons soared into the sky, while others stood on Dragonmont, participating in this ancient ceremony.
The two figures lingered in their embrace, reluctantly parting after a while.
Rhaegar smiled, and Rhaenyra pursed her red lips slightly.
With their foreheads pressed together, they both thought, "Blood and Fire!"
(Word count: 1,342)