[ Tim’s interest feels contagious, injecting long-dead memories with warmth. He sounds how she felt, watching Rhaenyra dismount, riding glove in her teeth. ]

As a princess, Tim. [ said much the same as keep up, teasing. Her voice lilts as she leans forward, giving into the story of it. Mayhaps that will make it easier to tell. She has never been able to speak of Rhaenyra with anyone before now. ] As a Targaryen — our most ancient and noble house, the blood of Old Valyria, of the dragons themselves — even the king could not stop her, though he oft tried.

[ He did not understand even then, she thinks, guided by his wife in his handling of her. ]

Against his orders, she once flew to face her mercurial uncle and his own beast, the red wyrm, bigger and faster than her she-dragon Syrax. [ Tall tales she once told her firstborn son, when she foolishly hoped he might love his half-sister as she did. ] I do not know how she averted battle, in truth. Mine own father failed to dissuade him from his position before her arrival.

[ Her throat bobs, suddenly thick with sentiment. ]

She — has a way about her.