What if Rhaella and Aerys Targaryen had a daughter other than Daenerys?
What if Daenerys and Viserys had an older sister?
What if the history of Westeros was re-written?
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𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒
| 267 𝐀𝐂, 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩
Thus far we have learnt that Naerys Targaryen was nothing at all like her plain, unimpressive namesake and in fact the total opposite. At seven namedays she was an outspoken young lady yet courteous; enjoyed reading and spending time with the ladies at court and skipped out on lessons whenever she saw it fit, much to the annoyance of old Pycelle and Rhaella. The latter she made up for by spending arduous hours with the Septa and the Maestar.
Her brother, on the other hand, proved to be much less of an adventurer. The knights had taken to calling him 'Baelor the Blessed reborn' and rightly so. When his nose wasn't buried in a book, it was sniffing one out or humming a tune.
"Let's sword-fight," she proposed one day. Rhaegar had just returned from his lessons and she from a session with the Septa. "I'll teach you what I know."
"Do you know much about sword-fighting?" He teased. Naerys joined him at the library table.
"Certainly more than you." She pried his attention from his books and said, "Let us go for a walk then."
He scrunched his nose. "In the gardens?"
She smirked. "Not quite."
That day Rhaegar discovered the tunnels and hidden passages of the castle. Not all of them, of course, for a magician must not reveal all her tricks.
When Rhaegar returned to deepening his knowledge and wisdom, Naerys's lessons with the Septa proved fruitful when she discovered her voice was as melodious as birdsong, yet she could never get the hang of a single instrument and was, in fact, an awkward dancer. She was not the worst nor was she the best: just awkward. The Septa was impressed by her skills with a needle and called her designs "as articulate as the summer sky", but the same could not be said for her tapestry work. Reciting great works of literature and poetry were no problem, as it wasn't a problem recalling little pieces of information others often overlooked, and she was an avid composer of her own poems and songs, much like her brother.
All this was well and good, but let us not forget who we speak of. Courtly gossips and mummers have one thing in common, and that is that what they know is based on lies and half-truths. It was no hidden thing the princess was wont to shirk her lessons, and so these expert rumour-mongers began to speculate as to her whereabouts. The ladies often suggested a handsome knight had caught her attention and the men believed she dressed like a boy and ventured into the worst parts of the city doing unspeakable deeds. Neither party was right, but the latter did come close.
