Isis Anea

“If it is what you want, it will be done.” Rhaenyra's hands tightened around her daughters, feverishly hot and still blemished red. “My Daemon will return with his head, and once he does I’ll have it skewered on a spike for my little girl.” She promised. 

Naerys would have laughed if all of this had felt more real. She remembered her mother promising her horses and pearls and bolts of silk with a similar intonation.

“If a swift death does not please you, my love, I could have him kept alive." She took her daughter's other hand. If it stung it did not show on her face. "In any way, the marriage will be voided. What happened in that sept was nothing less than absolute treason.”

She nodded to everything her mother said. Yet her voice strained when it came time for her to speak. “But... mother, what of the--” She glanced down at her middle, a subtle bump there that could have been mistaken for her being well fed.

Rhaenyra took a breath in through her nose. It took her a long moment to respond. “Sweetling… he would have a traitor for a father…”

Naerys squeezed her mother’s hand, trembling from her own heartbeat. She would have already been familiar with the answer to that, yet it shook her all the same. Words came slow to her. “But, if you pardon him... and then kill him…?”

Rhaenyra let out a breath of a laugh, in spite of it all. “My love, that would be senseless.” 

Naerys sighed. “I don’t know.” She would have ripped her tongue from her throat just to feel a shred of normalcy again. Her sight grew blurry with tears before she even knew she was crying. “I don’t know, mumma…”

I've been in a bit of a dry spell when it comes to writing about her story. It's funny, I draw her so much and keep thinking of her, but as far as a coherent story goes, it's a bit lacking.