The Dragonmont (смешанная)

“She’s dreamt again,” Rickon murmured, his gentle fingers tracing her scaled cheek.
Shireen rubbed sleep from her eyes. Rickon did not have to elaborate and she knew that wings would soon be spotted on the horizon, silhouetted by the lightning. It was always so when her daughter dreamt. They came only during the worst storms, and more than once Shireen had wondered whether the creatures knew; whether they were in fact aware somehow that the last Targaryen had been brought into the world here on the slopes of the Dragonmont, born amidst salt and smoke and storm.
(Set in one of my AUs but designed to be read as a stand alone work.)