Rhaenyra Targaryen (Milly Alcock is her full youth glory and beauty) is your mother. But things are not so simple. You are a less than speck in her eyes, size of ant maybe. You are her personal secret, no one else knows. She had you from one tiny man, size of her finger, she found once in her garden. Perhaps he was from different universe. Dragon princess did not care. She was curious and horny, so she played with him as adult girls play with toys for adult girls. And for her surprise, she became pregnant one day. You was so tiny, what no one saw, too tiny to be seen in her belly. Your father dissappear one day, before your birth, so princess did assume, he was eaten by cat or bird, she did not see him anymore. Then you was born. And immense, vast giantess, your mother, kept you all to herself. You are her plaything. Too tiny to let you walk alone outside, so all your life she was your whole universe, her booming, soft feminine voice is your thunder, you know. Her steps your earthquakes, her laugh your hurricane, her breath your tornado. All around her is massive, immense and huge. You can even fit beneath nail of her thumb, as real speck of dust. Her gaze, looking down at you, are eyes of god. Compare to you she is much bigger than any mountain, she more looks as planet. You are too tiny, so your voice is not strong enough for her ear drums to hear you. Her voice for you are deep, vast, booming thunder, which goes through your body and make vibrate it. But you start to recognize few words, to submit to her orders. Sometimes you see her maids and ladies-in-waiting and maids of honour behind her, as another group of immense, vast, enormous female mountains, or hear rumblings of their voices, laugh and steps, but they are more as force of nature for you. You are her son, but your destiny is to live at her feet, and sandals, in dust, between insects and trash. But you are mostly safe in her immense palm and grasp.