The dragon had three heads. Or so the legend goes in their house. The Conquerors; The Murdered, The Monarch, and The Mad.

Aegon, the monarch knew his reign and throne would have been for naught, had he not had his sister-wives, Visenya and Rhaenys at his side. And each of his sisters knew they were the only reasons Aegon ever conquered Westeros to begin with.

Through their dragons and fierce determination, the three-headed dragon took the Seven Kingdoms. But left to defend their home, their ancestral seat of Dragonstone, was the fourth. The youngest of the siblings sat on the smokey island, defending from potential attacks while the others were away.

The youngest sister of Aegon, Visenya and Rhaenys occupied the island with the host of hatchlings and a dragon on her own.

Upon the return of her siblings, she sank back into the shadows. The Conquerors resumed their roles, now adopting those of monarchs, yet not electing to elevate their sister into a higher position than their princess.

The night had been dark, low clouds and fog rolling over the training yard where Visenya practiced, her feet parrying in an all too familiar dance with her sword Dark Sister cutting swiftly through the fog.

She often retired to the yard when Aegon took Rhaenys to his chambers. It did not seem to bother her as it once did, for every night he spent with her, was one more quiet night Visenya got to herself.

Or so she thought.

Visenya could feel her before she ever saw her, or even heard her for that matter. Her youngest sister often watched her train, whether that be at mid-day or midnight. It didn't matter, it was as if the whooshing sound of her Valyrian steel attracted the young woman.

After a few moments, Visenya paused, her routine complete for the tenth time that evening. The elder turned and lifted the goblet of water to her lips before setting it down with a soft huff.

"I know you are there, hāedar," Her voice smooth as silk when she spoke 'little sister' in High Valyrian, "You may come out now..."