#rhaenys is so encouraging and proud

[atrxides]

“You have the full support of our fleet and house, Your Grace.”

don’t worry Rhaenyra your substitute parents are here babe

[libraryoffandomsuniverse]

Being Rhaenyra Targaryen's husband would include:

Masterlist

Okay this is my 3rd time uploading this, because tumblr was being a whiny bitch. This turned out much longer than I expected and I'm already planning on writing more in this au. I combined book and show canon, although I kept the Velaryons as black. I also renamed some of Rhaenyra's children and gave her 1 more.

This is not team green friendly or kind to Alicent. At all. Reader is a petty bitch who adores his wife and whose love language is murdering their enemies in various secret ways.

Warnings include murder, forced infertility (Viserys), Rhaenyra and Reader scheming for the throne.

You're the oldest son of Rhaenys Targaryen and Corlys Velaryon. Greatness is in your blood.

You're proud - how can you not be? You're the oldest son of the Sea Snake and The Queen Who Never Was, the heir to High Tide and the next Lord of Driftmark. You're the second rider of Silverwing, after Queen Alysanne. You are cunning and clever - everything your parents could wish for in a son. You have a lot to be proud of.

After fighting in the Stepstones and being knighted, you emerge as one of the chief candidates for Rhaenyra's hand.

The brothel incident still happens in this au and Rhaenyra still sleeps with Criston.

When your betrothal is announced, you both agree to do your duty. And although you aren't Daemon or Criston, you are still handsome and a warrior. Doing her duty will not be difficult for Rhaenyra.

You quickly fall in love, much to both your surprise. Rhaenyra falls first, your loyalty and ferocity in defending her sneaks past her defences.

You fall harder, her wit and hidden darkness, the type that matches yours, pulls you in. Her soul speaks to yours and feels familiar on some level.

By the time Jacaerys is born, you're incredibly happy and in love with each other.

Your darling boy is quickly followed by Lucerys, Baelon, Aegon, Gaemon and eventually (after a few years) your twin daughters Visenya and Aemma.

Your royal apartments are rarely quiet because of your children. They adore their mother's hugs, love to hang off your shoulders and follow you both around the Red Keep like little ducklings.

Being the best dressed couple in Westeros. Rhaenyra likes it when you match and often coordinates your outfits to do so. Sometimes it's matching her dress to your doublet, other times it's more subtle like you wearing ruby beads in your locs to match the precious stones in her bodice. It makes her feel like you're on a team and she knows you feel the same way, judging from the little smirk and raised eyebrow you give her when you see her and the maids going through your wardrobes.

You and Rhaenyra love to gossip together. It mainly happens in bed after you make love. She tells you the latest rumours her ladies in waiting told her and you reveal the scandals you heard from your manservant and squires.

You encourage her to be more visible to the common folk. You know that if she has their love, then any attempts to usurp her will fail. Your little family becomes regular fixtures in King's Landing as you explore the city and restart Queen Alysanne's charitable ventures. Rhaenyra starts heading sessions for women to raise any issues.

You know it's working when you hear people talking about the Realm's Delight and the Sea Dragon and praising your efforts in improving their lives.

The sight of you both racing your dragons high in the sky is a frequent occurrence. It started as a way to unwind after the small council meetings. As your family grew, your children joined in, strapped into yours or Rhaenyra's saddles. When they grew old enough and their dragons were big enough, they followed you on theirs.

Dividing your time between Dragonstone and the Red Keep, although visits to Driftmark are also regular events.

Laenor frequently pops in to visit and spoil your children.

Corlys and Viserys both compete to be the favourite grandparent, but you and Rhaenyra know that Rhaenys is the real favourite. For the sake of peace, you won't reveal it.

Despite Daemon and Laena staying in Pentos, you keep up a regular correspondence with them. You even arrange to meet in Driftmark with your children a few years into your marriage. Your children bond quickly, while the adults watch on and tell stories.

Being married to the heir to the Iron Throne isn't easy and there are many people who would see that Rhaenyra never becomes Queen.

As her consort, you consider it your duty to make the path easier for her.

Your first victim is Criston Cole. After murdering Joffrey Lonmouth, you expect him to get punished. The news of Queen Alicent accepting him as her sworn sword leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, particularly when you have to break the news to Laenor.

Along with your pride, one of your greatest attributes is how protective you are of your loved ones. Joffrey was Laenor's lover as well as one of your good friends.

It takes a little while to plan, but one day gossip erupts about Criston being found drunk in a brothel that's particularly debauched, even by the standards of King's Landing.

You seize your chance and tell your goodfather that perception is important, that such a knight like that cannot be allowed to guard the royal family, especially the Queen. Viserys ignores Alicent's protests and Criston is gelded and sent to the Wall.

Speaking of Viserys, you know that any sons he has will be pitted against your wife.

You also know that his health isn't very good.

You decide to help him by giving him a tonic that your mother swears by, along with some lotions and creams. "Two drops of this with your morning meal every day and you'll soon feel better, Your Grace," you persuade him. "And wouldn't it be wonderful if you could meet your future grandchildren?"

Your father told you once you could sell water to a fish, such was the power of your silver tongue.

Viserys' health does improve after taking the tonic and the lotions that are massaged into his skin fix most of his pains.

However you failed to mention that the tonic and lotion both have herbs which cause infertility if used over long periods of time. Your mother only uses the tonic, and does so sparingly.

Viserys and Alicent only have Aegon and Helaena as a result of your actions.

You and Rhaenyra work hard to charm lords and ladies to support your cause.

You go on progress across the realm, flattering and courting all the noble families you meet.

It quickly becomes known that to be one of Princess Rhaenyra's ladies in waiting is a boon for attaining a fortunate marriage. In turn, you surround yourself with ambitious lords and their sons who want to advance their own interests.

It's a delicate dance, but you were taught how to make alliances by your parents, plus your charisma and ability to speak to anyone makes you one of the most popular members of the royal family.

Any attempts Alicent makes to gain allies for her son are countered by you and she can't stand you.

She tried to make Rhaenyra bring Lucerys to her when he was born, but you shut that down. "I wasn't aware that the Queen was in such poor health that she couldn't come herself to meet the newest member of our family," you say with a mocking smile. "The King is already coming to meet his grandson and I'm sure he would wish for Her Grace to join him." The sour look on the Queen's face when she finally arrives, only to find Viserys holding your baby boy, is a sight you'll remember for weeks to come.

You're Rhaenyra's greatest weapon and she despises how popular you are. You weren't supposed to be this politically adept, your children weren't supposed to be that lovely and polite and Rhaenyra was not supposed to be the heir when Viserys already has a son.

She says so to Larys Strong, who decides to do something about it without telling her.

You survive the pathetic assassination attempt because of a loyal servant.

Rhaenyra finds out what happened and she is furious. When she finds out Larys did it? He's a dead man walking.

His body is found in a secluded corridor at the bottom of the stairs. It's fairly obvious that he slipped and fell in a tragic accident - the servants had only finished cleaning and polishing those stairs the day before.

You thank your wife for avenging you with a sapphire necklace and several rounds of insatiable sex that eventually results in your son Aegon being conceived.

Unfortunately Lyonel Strong takes this as his chance to resign as Hand and return to Harrenhall, something you and your wife are unhappy about. You will miss him and his unwavering loyalty and fairness.

You miss him even more when you find out Otto Hightower is returning to King's Landing to be Viserys' Hand again.

The return of her father emboldens the Queen, although you and Rhaenyra are more than a match for them, both during the Small Council meetings (which you are Master of Ships) and outside them.

Eventually though, you decide to take care of the problem, although your wife cautions you to be careful.

A year after becoming Hand again, Otto Hightower is dead. His health had been declining for some time, even before he returned to King's Landing, but the poison you'd had your spies slip into his furniture and clothing certainly made his end quicker.

You knew he had a food taster, so you had to be careful to make it appear natural. A quiet conversation with Daemon had pointed you in the right direction.

Although it appeared to be natural, you knew that Otto's last days were a living hell. A fitting end for such a man.

With his death, you recommended Viserys make Lyonel Strong Hand again or even name Rhaenyra to be the Hand, as preparation for her future role.

His decision to name Rhaenyra as Hand is one of the only good decisions he's made.

It gives her more experience in governing the realm, particularly when he starts to become more frail.

After several years of this, she is confident in her role. She will be a magnificent Queen and you're truly honoured to be her consort.

[tqwnw]

rhaenys, in her poppied delirium, calling out for corlys whilst giving birth….. because you KNOW he was by her side, much to the maester’s objection. staying with her for all the hours of her labours; encouraging and praising. and afterwards when rhaenys is resting after the endurance of the ordeal (i imagine her pregnancies being rough and cumbersome), corlys is sat in a chair pulled up by the bed for as many hours as it takes for her to wake again, with their newborn child swaddled in a blanket of velaryon colours and coddled close to his chest. he’s a man of course, he knows little about children, thus treats the babe like porcelain… but it’s HIS flesh and blood, and that of his wife whom he loves to the ends of the earth. corlys is so giddy and proud of his child for simply existing as blood, flesh and bone in his arms and for his growing family, and eternally grateful to rhaenys for gifting him the honor of fatherhood as he too gifted her motherhood.

[camilbarnessss]

¤ The Dance of The Dragons ¤

{ Aemond Targaryen }

《 Part 10 》

The One-Eyed Prince and The Rogue Princess married. Secretly, but they did, even after all the schemes and plots of their families so they couldn't. The lovers made their own discreet plot as well, and it is working just fine. Daera understands their position, the causes of their harsh decisions. However, anyone who was wronged like Aemond so many times was, is going to feel some sort of hatred, wether it's subconsciously or consciously, towards the people who did it. That is a hard true. But, what Aemond ends up doing above the skies of Storm's End, out of rage, and eternal resentment...ultimately starts the domino effect that would lead to The Dance of the Dragons, which will mean the lost of his sanity...and his love.

《 The Invitation's Second Season 》

Masterlist

Warnings: constant swearing, references to sex, mentions of death family drama, explicit birth (stillborn), angst, TARGARYEN INCEST [cousinXcousin]

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Enjoy your reading!!! Likes, comments and reblogs will be highly appreciated ♡♡♡

■ ■ ■

Aegon has been crowned King of The Seven Kingdoms; Alicent and Otto put him there, despite he didn't want it. Though, after the crown was placed on his head, his mind appeared to...change. However, that is a matter we will seek into later.

All feeling of glory and success was interrupted by the princess Rhaenys and her dragon, Meleys, as we well remember, when dragon and dragonrider came alive from the undergrounds of The Dragonpit, roaring a warning of war, or a cry of it, we might say. She fled from there, leaving two things with her departure: dozens -if not hundred- of dead smallfolk, and a very clear message to The Greens.

The Queen Who Never Was took off towards Dragonstone. She's on her way, at the moment, nervously gripping her leather gloves on her saddle as she goes through the skies and the clouds, having the ancient island as her end stop.

But, while she is still arriving, the things in the seat of the Heir to The Iron Throne are still calmed and easy. Relatively.

Aegon and Viserys, the little babes, are still abed, for it is still too early. Any ways, Rhaenyra and the whole of her family are already awake and, at the moment, they're on their way to share their usual break of fast in the morning.

The family is walking up one of the many mountains of Dragonstone, where their table and breakfast already await for them, as well as four guards in the distance, to watch after them. As they walk up the hill, and they hear their dragons' near sounds, every each of the family is doing their thing.

-Yeah y'all already know who I am!-, Joffrey goes speaking sharpy and loudly, with his "northern" accent-. This tummy of mine is hungry for dine!-, he rhymes, taking long steps.

-It is breakfast, Joff-. Nyra reminds him with a funny laugh, caressing his brown mane as she caress her bulged belly too.

-I care not, girl, I just wanna eat!-, the boy yells with a big smile, proud of his "accent". His mother just sighs, letting him be.

Daera and Rhaena, sweetly holding their elbows while they walk, talk vividly about the younger sister's dragon egg. Last night was her first night with it, and Rhaena can't be more excited for it. She is telling her older sister about how she cuddled with it, in front of the fireplace of her chambers, and swears she feels a heartbeat in it. Daera got so excited when learning so, encouraging her sister to keep doing that every night. As excited as she, however, Rhaena didn't share the fact that she prayed all night to have a dragon just like the ones of her sisters.

Another conversation goes between Baela and Luke, who are sharing their love over food as they both crazily agree that the new maiden in the island, Dyana, has only been here for a day, and yet she already seems to be the one who makes the best crunchy breads and scrambled eggs, for they have been a delicacy since yesterday's breakfast. They are really looking forward for more.

Jacaerys walks by his own, near his siblings, silent. He may be feeling the fresh winds of the morning and hearing his dragon's songs from the distance, but there is something he is more aware of. His nape hurts because of some eyes nailed in it. Jace turns his head, slowly, looking for the responsible who has been staring at him since first thing in the morning.

Daemon, being the one who walks the slowest, stares at Jace with no dissimulation. His eyes are sharp and his lips wrinkled. He seems annoyed, but...why? What did Jace do? Holy gods, it looks like he wants to fucking push him off the hill.

Jace just gulps and blinks, confused, looking up front again with a serious expresion. While the air blows his soft brown hair, he eyes his wife, from the distance. She wears a light red dress of long sleeves, for she still hides the long wounds in her arms.

-YES!-, Baela cheers when they finally reached the table, and saw the scrambled eggs served in there-. This is what I am talking about-. She chuckles, excited.

-Gross-, Rhaena rolled her eyes when seeing the eggs, and Rhaenyra held a laugh, remembering that funny story.

They all took seat in their spots, not waiting a second to start serving their breakfast in their plates. They do not pray before eat, as Queen Alicent heartily always does. When thinking about her, Daera gulped lightly, inevitably thinking about Aemond too. Oh...

Lucerys and Daera ended up seated side to side and, while they were serving their food, they drew a quick smile to each other, softly lifting their cheeks.

Rhaena, on Luke's right, ignores the eggs while she fetches herself some fruits, looking at them with a little smile. Seated in front of her, Daemon looks at Daera, and then at Jace, hardening his eyes within a second. Meanwhile, Rhaenyra is also peeking at her oldest son from time to time, giggling lowly and chewing her breakfast.

-Joff, the food won't run away of your plate-. Baela laughs as she sees Joffrey eating like an animal, really quick and hungry.

-One never knows-, he says with his mouth filled of food. She cackles funnily, shaking her head.

Slowly, Jace sighs through his nose, pinching the fried meat on his plate as he stares at it. He is not really hungry, to be honest, at least not as much as his little brother, The Tamer.

Chewing her food, Daera turns her head to eye Luke, who is calmly eating at her side. She looks at him for a few silent seconds, feeling her heart get warm just by the sight of him. It is so ridiculous, that sometimes happens when she sees at any of her siblings.

-Hey-. She calls him, softly.

-Um, yeah?-. He raises his brows towards her, speaking while chewing. Rhaena looks as well, keeping a little smile on her lips.

-You haven't told me how was the trip back home, in the ship-. Daera says with a funny smile, raising her brows with curiosity.

-Oh-, he smiles, leaving his fork in the plate-. It was lovely, and I got to know a little the new handmaiden, Dyana!-. He tells with excitement. Meanwhile, his betrothed started to chuckle.

-You did?!-, Daera smiles bigly, glad, and he nods, proud of his social skills-. Ugh, she is lovely, isn't she?-. The older sister asks, calmly leaning in the back of her chair.

-She is, I hope we can be friends-. Lucerys nods, hopeful, for the girl is only one year older than him, so it wouldn't be hard to find a new friendship.

-The only bad thing was that you puked a lot, right?-. Rhaena mentions in between laughs, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Luke opened his eyes big, and she immediately gasped, realizing that she said it accidentaly. And when hearing it, Daera's brows came down, and her eyes gained instant concern.

-What?-, she mumbles.

-Rhaena!-. The boy, quickly blushing with shame, hisses her name with a low voice. She gives him a pity and embarrased face, asking for forgiveness.

-Did you?-. Daera sighs, worried-. Did you ask the cooks of the ship to give you something for the dizzines? You know it always helps you at least a bit-. She tsks her tongue, placing a hand on his hair to caress it softly.

Luke only breathes in deeply, not looking at her anymore, nor at anyone. His cheeks hurt as they burn red, and he presses his lips as he feels Daera's tender caresses and her overly worried mumbles.

-...You leave today, then-. Jace's voice covers the table when he talked, raising his brows towards his mother, and his wife.

Both of them turned their heads to look at him. Joffrey made a sad pout, looking at them, whilst Daemon blinked slowly, looking down. Baela and Rhaena made faces as well, recalling that they two are to fly back to the capital.

-Indeed-. Rhaenyra sighs, siding a quick smile when recalling she'll be seeing Alicent, with a good will, after all this years-. We will be leaving after breakfast, when we are ready to go-. She smiles, turning to look at her oldest step-daughter.

This one grins to her, and nods, briefly raising her brows.

-Yeah...-, only a thin whisper left her lips.

Within just a blink, the brown skinned princess thinks about her upcoming-...no. She was about to think "her upcoming child", soonly recalling that it's gone. Her sweet Alyssa. She thinks about Alyssa. That made her remember Aemond. Today, she'll see him again, at last, and they'll talk -and probably discuss- about the topic.

Daera is anxious, she won't deny it. But, as she has confessed to herself, she just wants to see him already, to finally talk about what he did, what she did, what they said, and what happened the last time they saw each other.

-Don't forget the gifts!-, Joffrey quickly points, raising his spoon.

-Uhh, I want a new necklace!-, Rhaena asks with a smile.

-I never forget your gifts-. Daera said with a calm smile, staring at them. Joff smiles to her, which made her to grin warmer.

-To be honest with you, I myself have been wondering if, perhaps, I could join you-. Jacaerys informed with a proud smile, all of a sudden, making everyone to look at him. Daera’s lips departed, immediately thinking of how already it’ll be hard enough to find time alone with Aemond while Nyra is in town. It would only be twice as hard with Jace’s presence as well. Meanwhile, Daemon clenched his jaw, unconsciously being her daughter’s savior-. What do you think?-, he whispers, turning his head to look at his wife, who didn’t even have a second to answer.

-You will not-. Daemon’s sharp voice answered, making echo even though they were at an open space. Rhaenyra furrowed her brows, staring at him with a slight confusion. Jacaerys gulped, and the girls raised their brows high, glancing at their father-. Why would you?-, he asks, almost burlesque, narrowing his eyes, and smiling with cockiness.

-To grow more familiar with my future land, as it’s future King, of course-. Jace immediately answered, hiding that he was intimidated by The Rogue Prince, who snorted a dry laugh. Daera cocks her head, curious.

-Before King you’ll be the prince of Dragonstone-. Daemon says, not blinking once-. So you shall remain in Dragonstone-. He states, flinch-less. Rhaenyra caresses Daemon’s arm as she sighs, looking at her oldest, who narrowed his eyes with confusion, insulted.

-Father, are you…-Baela cocks her head to a side, interested, and careful-…angry, or something?-. She questions with honest curiosity, knowing that look on her father’s crazy eyes. Rhaena, on the other hand, gulped strongly, wondering wether it is her that he is angry with. It would not be of new.

Daemon just presses his lips, looking away as the wind blows his silver hair. Meanwhile, Rhaenyra sighed with a tired smile, gripping his elbow as she watches at her children, who all looked at her with curiosity, sensing that she knew the meanings of the prince’s temper. And she does.

-Last night, when we went to put Joffrey to bed, uh…-Nyra presses a smile, raising her brows. Her eyes fell on Daera and Jacaerys, who instantly flinched-…he told us something about the two of you-. The princess giggles, with pride shining on her gaze. Rhaena gasps-. Something that, uh, wed people do-. She added.

-Joffrey!-, Luke gasped harshly, as well as the other siblings, while Jacaerys melted on his chair, blushing, and Daera blinked bigly, going blank.   

-Oh my gods, Joff, you weren’t supposed to tell!-. Baela tsks her tongue with reproachment, curving her brows. The little boy stutters before his siblings’s disenchant with his doings.

-I’m sorry, I’m sorry!-. He immediately insists, lifting his brows to the top of his head, and jumping on his seat.

Rhaenyra chuckles lovely, looking at the sky, being the most joyous of all. Daemon, all jealous and serious, eyes to the pair of spouses. Daera is just sighing, scratching her forehead with clear tiredness, while Jace is painted of red, mumbling things to himself as he shakes his head and constantly eyes her, inevitably recalling the things they’ve done, and the fact that they haven’t talked about the last time yet.

Joffrey tsks his tongue, now ashamed of having told his parents about “Jace’s happy screams with Daera”.

-It is alright, it is alright!-. Rhaenyra tries to calm everyone as she chuckles, more than proud of her son, matters to say. He looks at her, grunting, covering the half of his face with a napkin-. Might I hope for grandchildren of soon?-, she asks, more than excited, opening her eyes big.

-Mother!-, Jace gasps while Luke almost spitted his food, covering his mouth and laughing.

-Holy fuck-, Daera sighed.

Daemon snorts, furrowing his lips with further disgust. Joffrey presses his mouth, not listening at Rhaena trying to comfort him.

-No grandchildren for anyone will arrive no soon!-. Daera clarified with a firm voice, raising her brows. Rhaenyra sighs, still with a smile, shaking her head. She is delighted-.  Jace and I didn’t go that far, AND, fuck, we should not be talking of this!-. She grunted while scratching her forehead, opening her eyes big.

-There is no shame in such topics-, Nyra says with a lovely smirk, and Daemon grunted.

-Pe-perhaps we should rather talk of Luke in the ship, puking at all times!-. The innocent and kind-hearted Joffrey proposes, trying to change the private topic he is to blame for. Alas, the boy didn’t execute his change of topic in the smartest way.

-Oh, come on, Joff!-. Lucerys hisses, turning as red as his older brother-. I am not to…!-

-Joffrey, do not make fun of Luke!-. Daera reproaches the little one immediately. This one gulps, while Lucerys turned to look at her with his brows furrowed, still with words on his mouth that she interrupted-. He is sensible to the tides of the sea, and that is no reason to make a jest of-, she states, and then she looks at him-. Neither, of course, to hide it from me-. The princess adds, clearly offended. The blue-eyed boy scoffs, shaking his head-, which I sincerely do not know why you did it, but that is quite fine-. She mumbled, looking away from him.

-I didn’t tell you so you wouldn’t be- babying me!-. Lucerys suddenly accused, yelling with obviousness and tediousness. The whole family froze, surprised. Even Daemon’s face came loose. Daera stays blinkless, staring at her plate-, as you very much are doing now, sister!-. He adds with no doubt.

-Huh, didn’t know my concern was not welcome!-. Daera’s voice trembled for a second while her face turned to look at him. Her eyes are hugely opened, and Luke’s blue ones flickered with distress-. I do not see why telling me that you puked on the ship would have been the second doom, brother-. She hisses, burlesque.

-Enough-. Rhaenyra spoke with firmness, looking at them both.

Silence is made. Luke blinks, looking down and pressing his lips, keeping quiet. Daera, meanwhile, huffed and drew a tiny sarcastic smirk, shaking her head. Just what she needed: another one being ungrateful with her.

-Don’t tell me anything, then…-she mumbled under her breath. Lucerys heard. And he exploded.

-Heavens, Daera, can you really blame me?!-. The blue-eyed prince suddenly yelled, again, from one moment to another, abruptly turning to look at her. She opened her lips, looking at him too-. Every time the- the slightest inconvenience happens to me you go and- and hold me away from everything, as if I am made of glass!-. The boy complains, furrowing his brows.

-So then are you blaming me for worrying?! Is that something I am terribly guilty of?!-. Daera, never keeping a thought to herself, screeches with despair, clashing her fork against the table. Rhaena and Joffrey flinched.

-Enough, the both of you!-. Rhaenyra flinches as well, reproachful. But they didn't listen.

-Everybody worries, but you- you simply do not let me be sometimes, Daera, you have to acknowledge it!-. Luke insists with an angry tone. His sister shakes her head, bemused-. So what if I puke?! What can you even possibly do to solve that?!-, he questions, looking for no answer.  

-I am not saying I would have made a freaking potion to ease your dizziness! But why must I remain unnotified of your sickness on the ship?! Can’t a sister worry, brother?! Do enlighten me!-. Daera roars as light tears gather on her tired purple eyes.

-Very well, cease this!-, Jacaerys tries to silence them, but nothing interrupted Luke’s following words.

-Well your worriness may be turning me into a stupid being!-. His voice broke, and his sister gasped, opening her lips with surprise-. Useless! So constantly- constantly and intensely cooed and hidden behind you that I- I sometimes do not know what to do!-. Luke complains with honesty, and distress. He was being honest of how he feels about himself, but all that his sister is listening to is an accusation, for caring.

-Oh! Sorry for looking after you, Luke!-. Daera hisses, furrowing her brows. In that very moment, Lucerys stood up abruptly, very rare of him, letting out a broken sob.

-How will I ever make a good lord, if you never let me learn and experiment things for myself?!-. The future Lord of The Tides squeaked with true despair, and as soon as he yelled, he turned around, and started to quickly walk away from them all.

Rhaenyra stood up within a second, sighing. Daera closed her mouth and gulped strongly, bemused, not taking Luke’s words completely in. While the others keep silence, also shocked, she starts to stand from her chair, slowly, feeling a great weight on her wounded shoulders.

-Daera-, her step-mother quickly approaches to her, softly grabbing her elbows.

-What- what did I do?-. Daera whispers with disbelief, shaking her head. The older princess sighs, closing her eyes for a second while shaking her head-. I only care for him, Nyra!-. She insists with a desperate voice.

-I know, I know-. She immediately nods, caressing her elbows with her tender thumbs. The younger princess huffs, slowly blinking, and looking at her little brother walking down the hill with his fists tight at the sides of his body. Rhaenyra also looks at there, with softness shining on her eyes.

Nyra felt wise, to be honest, for she understands the both of them.

-Would you…talk to him?-. Daera’s angriness didn’t seem to last long, for her voice rapidly became low and soft after seeing Luke’s angry walking. From the table, her family look at him too. Rhaena plays with her fingers, nervous-. Please?-, she whispers.

-I was planning to-. Rhaenyra nods with slowness, pressing her lips into a quick smile towards her. They look at each other, while she caresses her covered elbows-…Of course, my dear-. The Heir mumbled.

Seconds then, Rhaenyra started to walk the hill down as well, caressing her pregnant belly while doing so. Two of the four guards of the breakfast followed her, doubtlessly helping her to go with carefulness. Daera sighed, closing her eyes and not wanting to look at anyone else. So, eye-closed, she shook her head, and started to walk away as well.

-Pardon me-, she muttered, barely being heard. Jace parted his lips, concerned for her.

Without uttering a single word, Daemon stood up from his chair, and with long steps he followed his daughter’s path from the distance, keeping silence and a straight face, not revealing any of his thoughts on his expression.

Then, the rest of the siblings stayed alone at the table. Rhaena sighed and Baela tsked her tongue with tiredness, returning to her eating.

-…Is it my fault?-. Joffrey suddenly asked, confused and shamed.

-No-, Jace instantly shook his head.

-No, Joff, of course it is not-. Rhaena noted at the instant.

-This is no one’s fault, Joffrey-. Baela eased him with a soft smile. The little boy smiles tiny as well, still disappointed by his family’s discussion-…These things happen, it is nothing bad-. She whispered, giving a tender caress to his brown hair.

■ ■ ■

Kalistrox sighs heavily through his nose, and all of that hot air traveled to princess Daera’s face, for she is standing right in front of her dragon. She caresses his chin as their foreheads rest together as one. They listen and feel the other’s heartbeat. They both are unsettled.

How am I supposed to not care for him?, the princess wonders as she constantly sighs. Her violet eyes are closed, and her soft hands go up and down on Kalistrox’s chin, warming it with her own warmth, even though he very much has his own. Daera gulps, thinking about how tired she actually feels. More than before, now that she had that unexpected and hurtful discussion with her dear brother, Luke.

-Fucking hells…-, she whispered, leaning more on her dragon’s forehead. The Golden Ray purrs lowly, closing his gold eyes as he feels his rider’s distress and extreme sadness. She has been feeling this way since…that night.

The night Laena died, Daera followed her every step until she faced Vhagar, and commanded to burn her alive. Even on time, Daera did nothing, too young, naive and scared to do something. Her mother’s death was the last time Daera failed in protecting someone. Since then, she has been nothing but her loved one’s defender. And now…Luke doesn’t want it? Now that she pays mind to it…didn’t she fail too, in protecting Alyssa?

While the princess struggles with her harsh thoughts and feelings, someone arrived to the tall hill she is cuddling with her dragon in. The Rogue Prince arrives with silent and slow steps, watching at the huge holden beast that purrs to his daughter while she constantly sighs and mumbles on his gold scales.

Daemon halts his steps, knowing to maintain a prudent distance with the dragon. Soon, when this one grows a little, Daera opens her eyes, sensing the presence of someone else. Slowly, she turns around her head while caressing Kalistrox’s nose. There, near from her, she finds her father.

They look at each other, silently. The sound of the strong wind was soon opaqued by the princess’s voice.

-I am not an evil sister for wanting to protect my siblings-. Daera defended herself before even accused. Daemon sighed through his nose, placing his hands on the belt where his weapons rests-. Better said, I am not evil for wanting to protect you all-, she raises her brows.

-He’ll learn nothing, Daera-. Daemon’s unique voice spoke with calmness and serenity as his violet narrowed eyes look at her from the distance-, not if you and Nyra keep overprotecting him like you do-. He denied, and his daughter shook her head, looking at the green grass under her bare feet-. He used the right word, the boy…-he mumbles, taking some steps front-…you baby him far too much-, Daemon pointed.

The brown skinned princess bites the insides of her cheeks, thoughtful. The wind sings in the ears of the princes and the dragon, who now looks at the man with a serene but alerted gaze, feeling the tender touches from his sad rider.

-The day we saw mom burn…nobody could do anything-. Daera, then, whispered. Near enough, her father heard, and he felt his chest weighting when hearing so. The recalling of Laena’s broken cries, and her burning body made him to shiver, something he rarely does. Those memories, though, always achieve to make his spine tremble, and his heart to beat with an extreme discomfort, to not say sadness, for he does not like that word when referring to himself.

-If you would have shielded your mother from the fire, then the both of you would have burned-. Daemon pointed in between mumbles and snorts-. Shielding them is not the way, child-. He shook his head. The girl presses her lips, looking at him with a listening face, but also a sad one-. Shielding them is not the way, because when it is their turn to fight things by themselves…they won’t-. He stated, serious.

-Well, that very thing is my exact concern, father-. Daera sighs with obviousness. Her arms bounced at the sides of her body with tiredness when she stopped caressing Kalistrox-. I do not want them to ever be alone, nor helpless…frightened…-she whispered, looking down for a second to gulp with discomfort, thinking of Laena, yet again.

Daemon stares at her, with not even a blink in the middle. He cannot lie to himself. His daughter’s worriness and nobility moves him deeply. She cares, she truly does, and she knows how to act on it. Ah, of all the sweet things she has inherited from her mother…this might be the one who resembles to her the more.

The prince closes his eyes, and loosens his head, looking at the grass as well. He sighs through his nose, hearing his daughter doing it too, at the same time. They look at each other again and, for a second, he saw in front of him the little child she once was. Innocent, and pure…Past days, of course.

-I, too, used to perform that way of protection, with you three-. The Rogue Prince confesses, alluding to his three daughters His three treasures. When hearing so, Daera curved her brows, gulping-…And now look at Rhaena-. He points.

-Father-, she sighs tiredly.

Daemon keeps approaching, taking slow steps under the eyes of the golden dragon, who did not show any restriction to him. The princess presses her lips, looking at her father, who now stands close to her, looking at her face in silence.

-…Is it a crime, to care?-, she asks, whispering. Daemon huffs through his nose, raising his brows

-Wonderful question-, he mumbles cockily, nodding. Daera sides her head, expecting for answer. He sighs, siding her head too-. Daughter-, he softly whispered, looking at her sad eyes-. To love, sometimes is…to not care…-. Daemon muttered with patience, and slowness-…to let be…-, he nods.

By only imagining any of her siblings being helpless, with her not there to take care of them, Daera sobbed with heaviness. Her sob turned into a dry laugh that contained no grace in it.

-Then I’ll have to learn how to love, it seems…because I do not see it possible-. The princess confessed with a tired snort. Her father snorted a quick laugh, lifting his cheeks.

Unusually tender, Daemon scrunched his nose and approached more to her. His forehead touched with hers, and their eyes looked at each other from a short distance. Daera blinks with a weary expression, and her father stares at her with a soft smirk, blinking slowly.

-You’ve always known, my child…-he whispered, honest.

Inevitably, Daera laughs a little, and she did it even harder when her father surprised her with a brief kiss placed on her forehead. He laughs too, amused by her surprise, and she closes her eyes with a smile. At least, some love.

Daera and Daemon smile to each other, silently, feeling the soft breeze dancing around them. Seconds ten, he scrunches his lips.

-…So Jace and you didn’t go that far, did you?-. Daemon mumbled, and that made her to laughed again. Daera loved the sound of her own laugh. How much she adores it.

-I rather not to talk any about it, please!-. She chuckles, curving her brows. Daemon hummed and rolled his eyes, making Daera to giggle with a sweet smile, shrugging. He smirks, blinking softly.

■ ■ ■

Princess Rhaenyra knows her children. The ones she has delivered to this world from herself, as well as the ones she hasn't.

She knows how they behave, how they get happy, how they get...mad.

Jacaerys, for one example, gets desperate when he's angry. He tries to be the most perfect perfection in The Seven Kingdoms, and fails horribly, thanks to said desperation. Rhaena, her youngest step-daughter, doesn't emit a word. Silence is her way of madness, making one to even think that the girl has gone mute or so.

Daera screchees curses, and Joffrey cries endlessly. Baela gets her father's mad eyes. Even Aegon and Viserys get mad sometimes, and they puke when they do. And Lucerys, her boy, he...

He ponders.

As he is doing now, at The Chamber of The Painted Table. All by himself, after the quarrel with his oldest sister.

Greytower Watch, Old Stone, The Eyrie, The Vale of Arrryn. A bunch of names in that table, indeed. But he's only looking at one. Reading it, time after time.

Driftmark.

He does it so concentratedly and thoughtful, that he didn't hear the steps that entered to the chambers. His mother, silent, stares at him for some seconds, breathing through her nose, looking at him thinking.

-There you are-. She finally speaks, and her child immediately looks up, parting his dry pink lips. She could almost see the tiny tears on his blue eyes.

Lucerys takes a deep breath as she approaches. He sees the soft and curious expression on his mother, not saying anything. He gulps, looking down at the table, and reading it again.

Driftmark.

And so, he lets his ponderings out.

-The Sea Snake is going to die, isn't he?-. The blue-eyed boy asks from a moment to snother.

Rhaenyra raised her brows, sighing through her nose and caressing her belly. She knew this conversation would come.

-Luke...-, she names him softly. But he spoke again.

-I can't be Lord of the Tides-. He states, serious, and she pressed her lips, keeping silent-. Grandsire was the greatest sailor who ever lived! I get...greensick before the ship even leaves the harbor!-. Luke points, angry and ashamed, thinking of all the times Daera has worried herself for it, and spoken herself about it.

Rhaenyra pressed her lips into a very tiny smirk, passively listening to him, thoughtful. She knows how he feels, and so she's allowing him to vent.

-I'll just ruin everything!-. The boy assures with a heavy feeling on his chest-. I don't want Driftmark. It should've passed on to Ser Vaemond-. He points, knowing how mad his siblings and step-father would get just by hearing that statement, specially coming from him.

-We don't choose our destiny, Luke, it chooses us-. And his mother finally spoke, soft but serious, with a hand placed on her bulged belly.

-Grandsire let you choose wether you'd be his heir-. Lucerys immediately points, with fright growing on his crystal eyes-...You told us so-, his voice goes lower as he sees her sighing with some sort of distress.

Rhaenyra blinks and then nods with heaviness, letting her belly go as she looks down at the table, starting to walk. She thinks of her years of youth, when she was his age. When she was named The Heir to The Iron Throne.

-And...do you want to know the truth of it?-. She asks. Before that question, he looks at her with intense attention, slowly furrowing his sweaty nervous brows.

Luke blinks, seeing how she sides a nostalgic and sort of sad smirk, thoughtful for some seconds. He breathes deeply, still feeling the rush of the previous discussion running through his veins.

-I was frightened-. His mother confesed, as honest as one could be. He stares deeply at her, listening-. I was...four and ten, same as you are now-. She points, and he looks down for a second, taking the fact in. Then he looks at her again, now softer-. I wasn't ready to be Queen of The Seven Kingdoms-. Rhaenyra confesses, with not one drop of shame in her. Lucerys parts his lips, seeing the courage in her purple eyes-. But it was my duty-, she sighs-. And, in time, I came to understand I had to earn my inheritance-, Nyra shrugges, accepting her destiny.

The boy's eyes flickered, and he shook his head, letting go the tension on his shoulders.

There he knew. Rhaenyra and Daera, Luke's always defenders, are people of decision, of action and bravery. The reason they're always so protective and jealous of him, perhaps, is the simple fact that...

-I'm not like you...-, the boy states, looking down.

-In what way, sweet boy?-. She questions with dearness, looking at her self-conscious yet sweet, sweet son.

-I'm not so...-he looks around with nerves, and then he looks directly at her. In that moment, his blue eyes dyed with fear and contemplation, thinking of her, of his sister, of everyone but him-...perfect...-, Luke sighed that word.

Rhaenyra opened her eyes big, and then they flickered while her mouth melted into a surprised smile, sighing through them.

He's just a boy. He loves to play with his siblings, he doesn't step on insects, he misconcepts protection from others with uncapableness from himself, he loves his mother, he fears his future. He'll grow, but right now he's just a boy, truly. Their boy. Her boy.

The princess sighs and approaches to him, holding a side of his head to caress his cheek. At the same time, she caressed her forehead with his, smiling at him. Inevitably, Lucerys smirked for a second, calmed by her touch. And then, he felt three loving kisses on his brown hair.

Afterwards, his mother smirks at him, still caressing his cheek with her warm thumb.

-I am anything but-. Rhaenyra stated, looking at his eyes. Lucerys blinked with softness and, at the same time, they started to hear steps approaching by-. My father looked after me and helped to prepare me for my duties-, she recalls.

The boy cocks his head slowly, starting to feel really calm just by the sight of her.

-Your mother...-, she stresses, raising her brows-...will do the same for you-, she blinks softly, promising it to him.

Lucerys finally closes his lips, beginning to nod and smiling to her with trust and positivity, believing in her. Rhaenyra scrunches her nose, lovingly.

-Good morrow, princess-. A third voice meets the chamber, taking the two of them put of their privacy.

-Good morrow, Ser Lorent-. Rhaenyra turns around under the crystal gace of her middle son.

The knight nods, and proceeds to talk.

-Princess Rhaenys has just arrived on dragon back-. He informed, and in that moment Luke felt his chest pounding again, immediately thinking of Lord Corlys. Rhaenyra turns to look at him, giving a soft grasp on his hand-. She urgently requests an audience with you and prince Daemon-, he says.

Luke gulps, looking at her, fearing that his moment has come. She breathes in softly, smiling at him, and having no idea that, in reality, hers has instead.

■ ■ ■

Back to King's Landing, no bell is toiling, even though they are suppose to do so, at least a thousand times, the day a new King is crowned. A new King wears Aegon The Conqueror's crown on his head indeed, but then again...no bell toils.

The city is silent; its people almost hidden. The whorehouses are full, but silent, as well as the taverns. The prostitutes aren't moaning, and the drunk men are sipping quietly, with all of with all the hairs on their necks and arms standing up.

It is almost as if everybody is sad because of King Viserys's death. They are actually not. They couldn't care less. What they are is afraid of the recent coronation of his succesor, and what happened in it. All the terror, all the blood. That dragon.

The Dragonpit is halfly molished.

The monument still has a big cloud of dust around its surroundings, result of the fallen walls and floor. The bodies of the hundred slaughtered smallfolk still lie in different parts of the destroyed place. Lost eyes rest in the floor, lost heads as well. There is not one sould in the place, at least not human.

But in the skies about, a yellow beast flap its wings from up to down, flying above The Dragonpit. Sunfyre is this one. And, on his back, the new young king. Aegon II.

There are a bunch of dry tears on his pale cheeks. His hand are tightly held to his saddle, as his cold eyes wander about the place under. The bags under such eyes are dark and long, just as the trembling sighs that constantly come out of his dry mouth.

After Rhaenys and her dragon fled, Aegon The King climbed to the back of his own beast, and flew to the skies while yelling and comanding. As he took height, all of his sovereigns ran away in fear, while his family was scorted back to The Red Keep, where they'd be safe.

Aegon would look down to the ruins, and up to the clouds. He seemed thoughtful, but his mind is actually a blank canvas. He only thinks of The Red Queen, and how his mother stepped in front of him when the dragon's eyes went for him.

Sunfyre and his rider flew around The Dragonpit four times in a row, keeping the smallfolk away in their dark alleys, and the other royals tucked in their castle.

Afterwards, he came down, and a royal wheelhouse commanded by seven men was waiting for him. They all kneeled when he came down of his dragon, and called him "My King". Aegon didn't even blinked, walked inside the carriage, and puked three times while on the way to his home.

And, in his home, they were all waiting for The King.

The hall of The Iron Throne was as silent as the city outside. Today has been a silent day to King's Landing, to be honest. However, the room is not empty at all. In there are the people who await, and they all turned their heads when the gates of the hall were opened by the guards outside.

King Aegon II entered to the room. He parted his lips and opened his eyes big when he met all those eyes endlessly looking at him within the second of his arrival.

The Grand Maester Orwyle looked down. Lord Larys, Lord Wylde, Lord Lannister and Criston Cole looked at him with closed mouths. Otto Hightower, his grandsire, slowly raised his brows. Queen Alicent, his mother, plays with her fingers. And prince Aemond, his brother, pressed his arms that are crossed behind his back, opening his eye big when looking at him.

Aegon felt dizzy, extremely dizzy for a second. But, then, he glances at his mother, and he notices how anxiously she was staring at him. That made the king to clear his throat, to straighten his shoulders, and to begin his walk towards his seat.

The stares turned only greater when he started to walk towards The Iron Throne. Gulping, he looks at such chair with hidden fright, and nerves. Just days ago it was his father the one sitting in there, Viserys The Peaceful. Well, to be fair, just days ago he was wandring around in Flea Bottom. Viserys is dead, and now he is the one to sit.

How fast things change indeed.

Seconds later, Aegon's hands ended on the arms of The Iron Throne, and his body whole seated in it. He let out a hiss before the cold metal on his skin, surprised by it. The lords blinked, somewhat uncomfortable. Alicent parted her lips, briefly shaking her head. He gulped, looking at her, and blinked slowly, closing his mouth.

Standing besides his mother, closest to the stairs of the throne, Aemond clenches his nails on his own wrists, behind his back, looking at his brother on the fucking seat. The One-Eyed Prince, blinkless, breathes heavily through his pointy nose, feeling it damped.

The Small Council is gathered, at last.

All silent is ended when The Hand of King, Otto, spoke, finally taking off all those eyes from Aegon, which he internally thanked.

-We must not leave room to doubt that the princess Rhaenys, at this very moment, is on her way to Dragonstone-. He speaks with coldness and slowness, calculating. Alicent gulps when hearing so, and Aemond blinked, thinking of his wife's home-...your grace-, he turns around his head towards The King.

Aegon almost jumped, but instead he quickly gave a nod, grasping the arms of the throne for a second. He cleared his throat, again, and opens his mouth.

-Indeed-, he agrees. His voice came out as rasp, almost weak. His brother glances at him, from down, with no emotion, pressing his lips.

-It is just matter of a day, if not hours, for the princess Rhaenyra to hear word about the happenings of today-. Queen Alicent spoke with firmness, raising her brows. Her sons looked at her in silence.

-Yes-, her father immediately noded.

-But until that happens, my Queen, my Lord...-as Maester Orwyle speaks, he turns to look at Aegon-, and my King-, he nods, and the boy presses his lips-...we must attend hurrily to the matters that we already know about-. He says-. Such as treason-, his brows went up.

-If you excuse me, Your Grace, I have already taken action on the abouts of the Gold Cloaks-. Lord Larys came to speak with softness, resting his hands on his cane while he stares at Aegon, who listened with a puzzled face.

-Yes, the Gold Cloaks-. Otto quickly noded, while his daughter stared at the Lord Confessor with seriousness, noding-. See that they respond to their crimes, as they did to their loyalty to Daemon-. He almost spat the name, looking away-. And your services will also be of need regarding the Swore Knight of The King, Ser Erryk Cargyll-. Otto adds, and Aemond furrows his brows lightly, curious-. He hasn't make act of presence in the days of late, and it still remains a mistery how the princess Rhaenys found a way out of her chambers-. He pointed with seriousness.

The One-Eyed Prince opened his eye big, now understanding why that useless twat always gave him the worst of guts. A traitor he is, of course. And it will be of no surprise when they hear the twin chose black.

-Find him-, The Hand orders.

Larys nods, devoutly, closing his eyes, and letting out a crooked tiny smirk headed to the queen. At her side, Aemond stays blinkless, still thinking of Dragonstone.

-Ravens should already be on their way-. Lord Jasper Wylde, the Master of Law, quickly speaks, looking at everyone, but especially at Otto-. To Oldtown, Riverrun, Casterly Rock, Highgarden-, he counts, and the queen starts to nod.

-Indeed, Lord Wylde-. She agrees, thinking of some other lords and knights that she may find sympathetic to her son's cause. Aemond hums, lowly, gripping his cold fingers-. Maester Orwyle, send word to every house that spoke for my husband, Viserys, in the Great Council of 101-. The Queen ordered, and his subject immediately noded.

-We are...going to war, then-. Tyland speaks with slowness, taking the fact in as he looks around.

-We are at war, Lord Lannister-. Aemond spoke for the first time, firmly and loudly, msking the lion's ears to ring. Aegon looks at his brother, how tense his jaw is. Alicent plays with her fingers, thoughtful.

-Indeed-. Otto supports his youngest grandson. This one blinks, and then looks down at the floor, thinking of Daera. His chest hurted-. The princess will have the Sea Snake and his fleet, no doubt, and like as not the other lords of the eastern shores will join her as well-, he points.

Aegon blinks, immediately looking back at Lord Wylde when he speaks again.

-Lords Bar Emmon, Celtigar, Massey and Crabb, most likely-. He calculates.

-Perhaps also the Evenstar of Tarth-. Alicent pointed, raising her brows-. But these are lesser powers, we must confess-. She sighs, crossing her hands over her belly-. The North is of concern-, she fears.

-Indeed-. Otto quickly nods-. Winterfell had spoken for princess Rhaenys, back in Harrenhal, as well as Lord Stark's bannermen, Dustin of Barrowton and Manderly of White Harbour-, he recalls.

-Nor could House Arryn be relied upon-. Lord Wylde points, taking a step foward-. The Eyrie is ruled by a woman nowdays, Ladye Jeyne, The Lady of The Vale-. The lord says.

-Her own rights might be put into questions should princess Rhaenyra be put aside-, Maester Orwyle agrees, as everyone else did.

-We'll proceed to-, Alicent starts to speak.

-We-, Aegon and her mother spoke at the same time.

But, as it was The King's first time actually speaking in the session, everyone hushed and instantly turned to look at him, almost harshly. He clears his throat, and moves a little on the chair.

-...We were already attacked by a dragon-. He says, recalling the terrorism in The Dragonpit-. We cannot stand and discuss about ravens and wait for another attack-. The King points, almost nervously, as if he wasn't sure of his own words.

-The King is right-. The Lord Commander of The Kingsguard, Criston Cole, agreed, glancing at his pupil-. We must shield the city-, he nods. Otto sides a tiny smirk.

-Then the manier the shields, the better-. Alicent nods-. Maester Orwyle-, she calls, and he attends to her-. See that the first raven sent be delivered to Oldtown, and make sure to ask the presence of prince Daeron at court, immediately-. The Queen ordered with her brows up-, and his dragon-. She added.

-My Queen-, Orwyle nod, adding another task to his list.

-I will patrol the skies, with Vhagar-. Prince Aemond spoke, decided, almost turning around. His mother opened her mouth, almost talking.

-You will not-. Otto was the one who spoke, making the one-eyed to halt, silent. Aegon eyes his family, silent too-. Your sister, Helaena, will see to that matter, in her own dragon-. He decided. Aemond furrowed his brows, and Alicent immediately gasped, not liking the idea of either of her children up there in the dangerous skies.

-Father-, she planned to object.

-The prince Aemond has another mission-. The Hand of The King stated, firmly. Aemond blinks, quite confused, sharing an unconscious glance with his brother, who pressed his lips from the Iron Throne.

-As these are matters of war, my lords, I must, at once, seize the royal treasury-. Lord Lannister, as Master of Coin, spoke. The Hand nods towards him, agreeing on the fact.

The Crown's gold would be divided into four parts. One part will be entrusted to the care of The Iron Back of Braavos for safekeeping, another will be send under strong guard to Casterly Rock, and a third part to Oldtown. The remaining wealth will be used for bribes and gifts, and to buy sellswords if needed.

Queen Alicent turns her head to look at her oldest son, whose eyes immediately met her. On his iron seat, Aegon flinches when reading her face. He clears his throat, making himself heard once again.

-The terms we agreed upon to Dragonstone shall be delivered today. Immediately, before she takes action for herself-. The King informs, being listened by all of his council. Aemond makes a pout with his lips, serious-. Ready the ship at once, and you, grandsire, will take the word to my half sister-. He orders, looking at him. Alicent nods in silence, sighing.

Otto stares back at him with curved lips, starting to nod with severe slowness. He eyes his daughter, and then back at his grandson.

-It will be my pleasure to take the task, your grace-. The Hand agrees. Aegon closes his lips, and nods. His back has never touched the throne.

-I wish to know about my task, if I may-. Aemond speaks, coldly, looking only at his family, and ignoring the lords-. What is my mission?-, he asks, firm.

Aegon, in a low voice, stutters, not knowing what the fuck was Aemond supposed to do. But, knowing it himself, Otto answered the question.

-Another worry of ours, a great one, is Storm's End-. The Hand says-. House Baratheon had always been staunch in support of the claims of princess Rhaenys-, he points, lightly raising his brows.

-Lord Boremund was that support of hers, and he's now dead-. Tyland recalls with nearly a scoff, raising a finger.

-And his son, Lord Borros, is even more belligerent than his deceased father-. Otto answered, calculating-. The lesser storm lords will surely follow wherever he leads them to-. He points, calmly nodding. Aemond blinks woth curiosity, still not understanding his part.

-Then we must see that he leads them to our king-, Queen Alicent declared. Aegon gulped, looking at her with crystal eyes, admiring her devotion to him.

-He has four daughters, all of then unmarried-. The Hand informs, and then his eyes travel towards the one-eyed one, whose heart stopped in that second-, as well as The King's brother-. He points.

An image flashes in front of Aemond's mind. He sees his wedding.

Aemond furrowed his lips with a smile of calmness and pride, not blinking, and just looking at her. Daera smiled with her lips closed, feeling her cheeks burn as she watches at his eye endlessly, finding so much warmth in it.

Aemond freezes, not showing even one single emotion. Aegon blinks, thoughtful, looking at him from head to toe. His brother looks so tense.

-I understand-. The One-Eyed Prince nods.

Aegon listen to his words agreeing, but sees his body frozen up with terror. The King encloses his eyes, remembering some nights ago, at the family dinner, the odd behavior he noticed from his brother, and their bitch of a cousin.

Otto nodes in silence, knowing this was no time to speak deeper about his grandson's mission.

-Well, then, time is of the essence-. Alicent speak with quickness-. My king-, she turns to look at him, and he nearly flinches, fading away his taunt eyes from his brother.

-Um, indeed-. Aegon nods-. You may all go, and fulfill the work you have been given-. He orders, forbidding his voice to tremble when seeing all of them looking at him, but Aemond.

Nobody wasted a holy second. The whole council turned around and quickly walked out of the room, as quickly as the threat of war should make them walk.

Aemond as well turned around, and started to walk long steps with his long legs, planning to follow his grandfather, but a voice stopped him.

-Brother-, The King's voice echoed in the hall.

The One-Eyed Prince stopped, clenching his arms behind his back. Slowly, he turns around again, and the image that he saw disgusted him entirely. Aegon, in The Iron Throne, cockily staring at him. They are alone now.

-Come-, the older brother commands.

Aemond walks back the steps he had taken before. As he walks, his mind goes deep into the thought of his mission. He is to marry. He is to marry another woman. The last time he saw his wife she looked at him with madness and dissappointment. How will she look at him, the next time, when she knows he has placed his brother on the throne, and has taken another woman as wife?

The next time he blinks, Aemond finds himself standing right in front the throne. He didn't realize he walked the stairs up as well. But here he is now, face to face with his brother, staring at him from his tall height.

The King, quietly, curves his lips into a tiny smirk, noticing that his brother's eye stared, for a quick second, at his head.

-Does the crown fits me good, brother?-. Aegon asks, making echo in the hall.

Aemond crosses his arms harder behind his back. He felt his shoulders pain, but did not care enough to change his harsh posture. He presses his lips, staring at the Crown of The Conqueror once again, now with no disimulation.

-You can see that it weighs-. That's the answer of the one-eyed, spoken with coldness and, if he's not mistaken, taunt.

Aegon's eyes shine for a second, a tired and burlesque bright on his face. He sighs through his nose, and nods.

-Its lighter than it seems, if you wear it right-. He says, and Aemond fighted himself to not roll his eye. He's been wearing the fucking crown barely for some hours-. Do you want to marry the Baratheon girl, brother?-. Aegon's question caught him off guard, causing him to furrow his brows for a quick second.

-There is no a concrete girl in question yet. There are four-. Aemond answered, emotionless. Aegon hums and scoffs, noding.

-True, that is true-. He mumbles-. But, out of the four, would you like to pick one of them, or one...closer to the family?-, Aegon asks, half-closing his eyes with fake interest.

In that moment, Aemond goes mute. He opens his eye big, and stares deeply at him, frozen. He didn't have the guts to answer at that moment, fearing that that question had the double meaning he thinks it has.

What...what does Aegon know?

-You must tell me the truth, brother-. Aegon sighs, shrugging. Aemond gulps, not blinking once-. I am your King-, he smiles, lifting the dark bags under his shiny eyes-, and...and Daera's a bitch-. Aegon spoke with total poison, and taunt.

Aemond breathes harshly with his nose, feeling how his chest stopped pounding for some moments. He almost let panick get hold of himself, but didn't allow it to happen. No, he can't risk it. He can't tremble before one single and indirect accusation of loving their forbidden cousin.

He's far more smart than The King, the gods save him. And so his chest pounds again when he finds the right answer.

-I want to marry whoever girl stands in our side, brother-. The one-eyed states, serious and cold. Aegon slowly ereases his smirk, cocking his head to a side-, wether if she's a bitch or not-. He mumbled with disinterest.

Aegon smiles again, only to chuckle tiredly and scarce fun. He looks at his brother gulping, having no emotion on his long scarred half-moon shaped face.

-Oh good good...-The King sighs, smiling at him. Aemond looks down at him, coldly-. She doesn't deserve you, the bitch-, he whispered so low, shaking his head.

Aemond blinks, nods towards him with his head, and then turns around, walking down the stairs. He does not hears another word or sound from his brother, perhaps because of the ringing that started on his ears.

The One-Eyed Prince walks rigidly and straight, with his fists at the sides of his body, and a sour taste arriving to his tongue.

The taste of fear.

■ ■ ■

After having spoken with his mother, Lucerys had gone to the beach along his older brother, Jacaerys, for they were to train the sword, as they always do.

-Ugh!-, the younger grunts when the older got to him, and sent his sword flying to the air, defeating him.

-You are distracted-. Jace accused, breathing fast while walking around him, pointing at him with his sword.

-I'm not, you are just too fast!-, Luke tsks, bending down to take back his training weapon. Jacaerys sniffs his sweaty nose, staring at him.

Dragonstone is calm, at least for now. The beach where they train is fresh and clear, perfect for their training. As always, they are being watched by their instructor, Ser Havos.

Jace sniffs his nose again, seeing Luke sighing with distress as he takes position again.

-You have to apologize to Daera-. The older brother speaks from a moment to another, serious, looking away.

The younger blinks, listening. Then he scrunches his nose, and nods, looking at the white clean sand.

In another part of the island, inside its castle, Baela is gathered with a group of ladies, all of them delicately and silently sewing.

The princess, however, got a little distracted when a servant of the kitchen crossed the hall she was in. A boy of Daera's age whose name is Mendos.

As he crosses the room, they shared looks. She immediately smile, sucking on her cheeks. The man went breathless, almost tripping on. Baela laughed, looking away, and he chuckled, keeping his path.

In one of the many countless rooms of the castle, Rhaena was on her own, but not by her own. The youngest princess of the realm was seated by her chimney, with the sweet company of her brother, Joffrey.

Both princes are silent and quiet, as they watch the girl's dragon egg placed in the fire. The future hatchling, beautifully pink and golden, takes the heat of the bonfire with total rest and comfortness. We do know that dragons love heat.

And, lastly, in another one of the royal family's chambers, the oldest princess is also in the company of two of Rhaenyra's sons. They are also quiet, and silent.

The babes, Aegon and Viserys, breath calmly in their cradles. Their sister, princess Daera, rocked them to sleep, not many minutes ago. And, since they fell asleep, she attended to the matters of her trip.

Remember, she'll be leaving to King's Landing in a few hours now, with Rhaenyra.

In the princess's bed lies an open bag filled of her clother and personal objects, such as jewerly and fresh soaps of eucalypt. The bag is merely full by the half, not entirely and, in fact, is already ready.

Daera doesn't often takes a lot of luggage with her, for she is an usual visitor at The Red Keep, hence why her wardrobe in there is always already full of other belongings of her. She never takes much, for her room always awaits for her.

Daera stares at her bag, standing in front of her bed in total silence. While she does so, she touches her right thigh above of her dress. She feels the bealt strapped to her leg, as alwaus. Aemond's bealt.

The princess thinks of her husband, the secret one, and gulps while doing so. It is only a matter of hours to be back at the capital, and to see him again, after their monstrous argument on Lovers Island. How will it be?, she can't help but wonder, their reunion.

Is he still mad?, Daera wonders. No, he does not posses the right to that. Well then, with that logic, neither do I. She tsks. Ow it doesn't even matters if he is still angry! He'll have to deal with it, as he always do, and speak with her! Its mandatory, between them.

We have never lasted long upset with each other. And, as hopeful as ever, Daera hopes this is not the exception. They need to see each other, and talk. But alas, what does Daera truly knows? What does her, indeed.

Daera blinks slowly, looking at her bag. Her purple eyes come alive in a light glim, and then a tiny smile curves into her lips. Her chest, for some seconds, beated with hope, silently nodding to herself.

The doors of her chambers are quickly opened, all of a sudden, making her to rapidly turn her head around, a little surprise.

-What the...?-, a curse almost left her lips, but then she couldn't believe her eyes when she saw who came in to her chambers-. Fuck, grandma!-. She still cursed, but out of happiness, immediately smiling.

Princess Rhaenys stands in front her. She wears an armour, a riding one, and a weary face. Her fist are nervously tighted at the sides of her body, while her eyes look at her with...what was that feeling?

-What- what are you doing here? When did you arrive?!-. Daera chuckles in a low voice, approaching to her.

-Daera...-, a breath left her lips.

-Oh, lowly, the kids are sleeping-. She whispers, raising her brows and cocking her head towards the craddles. At the same time, she takes her hands in hers, gripping them.

-Dae-Daera...-. Rhaenys stutters, looking down for a second, and blinking with quickness. Her granddaughter furrows her brows a little, growing confused.

-Grandma, is everything alright?-. She asks, tilting her head-. I sense you...weird. Correct me if I'm mistaken-, the princess mumbles.

The Lady of Driftmark closed her eyes strongly, gripping her hands tighter, and lovelier. Rhaenys feels her heart beating with total distress and fear, not understanding why she suddenly isn't able to utter a singke word. Well, perhaps she does understand.

-You...you come from King's Landing-. Daera deducts within a thin whisper.

Rhaenys opens her eyes big, staring at her. The younger princess gulps, slowly reaching her bed, and sitting on it, in silence.

-Daera-, she whispers.

-Do you know what happened, then?-. Daera questions, taking a deep breath in. Rhaenys stands quietly, blinkless, not understanding the child-. Did Helaena told you? I sincerely doubt Aemond had-, she scoffs, nearly rolling her eyes.

The Queen Who Never Was presses her lips, noticing that her granddaughter is mistaking subjects. Tragically.

There's no time for misunderstandings, Rhaenys thinks to herself.

-I am almost heading back to King's Landing-. Daera informs, raising her brows.

-And that is where I come from-. Her grandmother quickly nods, approaching to the bed.

-Yes, yes I know-. She sighs, playing with her finger.

This is very last moment we are to see princess Daera as we have known her. Here, now, in these moments, everything is about to change for her. And for us.

-Something bad happened, child-. Rhaenys spoke, nearly with a trembling voice, cold.

Daera starts to furrow her brows, instantly growing scared. She immediately fears for her loved ones in The Red Keep. Is Helaena fine? Did something happened to Viserys? Is it about Aem-

-The King is dead-. Rhaenys declared, not holding herself anymore.

Daera's whole body got frozen up in that moment. Her jaw tremble, and her shoulders fell to the height of her breasts. She emits a sound, but not a word, shocked.

-I was locked in my rooms, by The Greens and- and they- they asked me to declare for Aegon, as Viserys' rightful heir-. Rhaenys spits fact after fact, recognizing that there is no time, not even to mourn. Daera gags, feeling how her chest was growing everytime heavier-. Aegon was crowned this morning-, she says.

Daera gagged again, grabbing herself to the canopy of her bed. Air left her, as well as any sign of calm and quietness. She breathes fast, arching her eyebrows, sensing tears coming up to her eyes.

-Grandma!-, the child whispers shakily, looking up at her. Rhaenys gulps, almost crying as well.

It's changing. Everything is changing.

-He was crowned in The Dragonpit-. Rhaenys says, and her granddaughter grunts, shaking her head-, in front of everyone-, she raises her brows.

-And Aemond?-. Daera roars and cries her question, naming him with despair, feeling how the world is coming down on her shoulders.

-Didn't even bother to see me while I was their prisioner-. She quickly answered, firmly, standing in front of the bed. Daera breathes deeply in, not blinking once, shaking her head and looking for air-. He was standing right besides your other cousin, as they watched the coronation-. She tells.

-No-, Daera roars, shaking her head stopless, from side to side-. No, no, no-. She breathes fastly and deeply, still feeling airless.

-Daera-. Rhaenys closes her fists, worried.

Daera wants to scream, loudly, and accuse her of liar. But her grandma is no liar, not to her. And so that only means one thing. That this is true. That this...is all...really happening.

-Fuck-. The princess sighs, trembling. She didn't give herself a single chance to think of herself, to worry about her own feelings. There's something more important right now-. Rhaenyra, father. We must- we must tell them, right away!-. She yells, quickly standing up from her bed. Her legs shook.

-I already did-, Rhaenys quickly spoke. When she said that, she almost looked ashamed, and embarrassed, as if something that she doesn't know about is happening right as they speak.

-What?-, Daera stumbles for a quick second, looking at her. Rhaenys gulps, looking down. Daera breathes fastly, shaking her head.

And within a second, The Rogue Princess shot out running from her room at the speed of lighting. Rhaenys gasped and almost followed her, but the starting of two cryings made her to turn her head.

Viserys and Aegon woke up, feeling strange and scared.

Daera doesn't mind about her trembling legs, and she runs as fast as she can. At first she didn't know what she was running from or to, but then a yelling is heard all along the castle. A yell of pain, of a woman, that of a woman in pain.

-Oh!-, her legs tremble even more when she recognized that voice-. Nyra-, a voiceless breath left her empty lungs.

Rhaena and Joffrey turned their head around when they hear quick steps running outside the room, passing in less than three seconds. Afterwards, they glance at each other, confused.

Daera breathes in and out, in and out, in and out as she runs across all the castle, having one place in mind. And soon, she reached the entry to Rhaenyra's chambers. There are no guards in the outsides. Where the fuck are they?! She's screaming!

-Ah!-, she grunts as she still runs closer. And then she gasped when seeing her brothers coming out together of the room, as tense as rocks-. Boys!-, Daera gasps.

-Dae-Daera!-, Lucerys did the same, opening his eyes big when he saw her.

-Jace-, she sighs, reaching them at last.

-Go with mother, go!-. He raises his brows and holds her shoulders, barely stopping his walk.

-You with father!-. She didn't stop either, quickly nodding. Luke breathes fast, looking at her.

-Daera-, he whispers.

-I'm on it!-, Jacaerys nods, walking away.

-Go!-, she goes into the room.

-Daera!-. Lucerys calls, but she didn't even look at him, too hurried in entering the chambers.

Daera runs into the room, finding a bone-chilling scene that made her body to freeze right in the doors.

Rhaenyra, bent over and in lesser clothes, her hair all sweaty and disheveled, roars and cries in pain and despair, as if she were lit in the hottest of fires.

Lines of blood has damped her white dress, coming from the middle of her legs, from her sex. Daera breathes fast, realizing what is happening in front of her scared eyes.

-Daemon!-, Rhaenyra cries, desperately.

Rhaenyra is but six months in her pregnancy.

-Fucks!-. Daera gasps, not waiting another second to enter completely, heading to her.

This is not supposed to be happening.

-Ahh!-, the oldest princess grunts, briefly raising her teary sight when hearing her. Her sobs stopped for a second-. Leave...-, she whispers, breathless, curving her brows.

She needs help.

-Ow!-. The girl sorrows, fastly approaching to grabb her hands, helping her to balance.

And yet, she's keeping everyone away from her. The midwives, the maester.

-A-au!-. Daera afflicts her throat when, all of a sudden, Rhaenyra's nails became as fierce as her screams, and they started to get buried on her wrists and shoulders, hurting her.

-Oh, ah!-. Rhaenyra cries in agony, barely being able to stand-. Leave, leave!-. She yells, broken.

Because she remembers that woman who, when having seripus troubles at giving birth, was cut right in a half by said midwives and maesters. Her mother. Aemma.

-Come- come on, come on, we can do this! Just as last time!-. Daera's broken voice tries to lift her spirits up, but no spirit is being lifted besides that of depair.

Caraxes screeches from the distance, hurting their ears.

-Fuck! Fuck, fuck!-. Rhaenyra curses and yells, almost falling on her knees and burying even deeper her nails into the girl's skin, making her recent scars to bleed.

-We can do this, we can do this!-. Daera trembles as she speaks, seeing all the blood that keeps tearing from her white dress, damping their feet.

-No no no no!-. Rhaenyra yells, wanting to step away, but her girl didn't let her-. GET OFF!-, she roars, gone to madness and pain.

-Nyra, Nyra!-. No other word comes from her mouth, too shocked to keep speaking as her step-mother is agonizing right into her arms. Daera breathes fast, thinking of Laena, that damn fear-. You- you can!-. She cries, feeling them sharp nails hurting her endlessly.

In the middle of a scream, Rhaenyra fell to her knees, taking Daera with her. Both of them end in the wet floor, where their sweat and blood dirtied their clothes. Rhaenyra let go of her arms, only to grasp the wood of her bed, almost breaking it.

Daera stutters, time after time, being muted by the princess's loud screams and cryings of pain. She breathes fastly, feeling tears gathering on her eyes as she, desperate, places her hands on the floor, gagging.

-Everythinv'll be fine-, she whispers, voiceless.

Rhaenyra screams, hopeless, wildly. Syrax is heard screaming too. Daera flinches, curving her brows, going to hold one of her hands again.

-Princess, let us help you-. A weak plead comes from one of the midwives, but in vain.

Daera sobs with no steop as Rhaenyra almost breaks her hand, gripping it so hard while crying and yelling, sweating and tearing up, always eye-closed, feeling the worst physical pain of her life, almost wishing to die instead, right at this moment.

-Please, please!-. Daera cries, weakly, but trying to keep strong, for her, for the babe-. You can!-, she sobs.

-MONSTER, MONSTER, GET OUT! AHHH!!-. Rhaenyra roars as a dragon itself, making Daera to flinch, having forgotten the pain on her scars-. Get out, get out, GET OUT!-

-Princess, please!-. The younger midwife begs, staring at the both of them. Daera looks at them with despair, breathless, so afraid and with no idea of what to do-. Let us help you!-, she begs, heartbroken.

-Let them help you!!-. Daera begged with a broken voice, screaming almost as loudly as her.

-AHH!-, Rhaenyra ignores them all, lost in her own pain and despair. She gags, with no breath, tasting the sweat on her lips.

And then her water broke, so late, from a moment to another, bringing a river of blood.

Daera flinched, and not a muscle from her moved afterwards. She stays frozen, looking down, having no breath. Everyone went silent.

-GOD!!-, Rhaenyra grunts with all the rage of despair, looking down at the bloody floor, entering a hand under her dress, and pushing with all of her strength-. AH! AH- AJ!-, she howls and shrieks, grabbing something.

A head.

Daera lungs went empty. Her body stopped perceiving any pain, or sense at all. Her eyes got loose, fixated on the image of Rhaenyra pushing out of her body another body.

A small creature slid from the princess's interior to the floor full of blood, falling dead. Only flesh colliding with blood was heard.

The midwives stepped back, wordless.

Rhaenyra's screams were gone, all of a sudden. She gags, breathing heavily, staring down at the thing that just came out of her.

Daera's lips start to tremble, fastly, while her eyes gather a sea of salty tears that started to fall down in total silence. Her breathing is quick, and yet makes no sound. Her heart is teared from her, as well as Rhaenyra's babe from her.

There was no sound, no crying. No life.

The wind blows into the room, drying the sweat in everyone's face. Nobody felt it, though.

Rhaenyra's hands grabbed her stillborn girl. A girl. She...she had a girl. Almost did. Her trembling lips close as she starts to rock the babe, closing her eyes, and imagining she was hearing a cry.

The princess Daera remains frozen, staring at the scene. Her lips are dry and her cheeks are wet, as well as her eyes. Lonely tears were falling from her gace as she, word-less, looks at the death deformed babe whose head rocks weakly from side to side, almost hanging of its body.

Rhaenyra rocks the babe, back and foward, lovingly, lost in her agony, still not taking it all in. She hears only sobs from the midwives, also feeling how some of the girl's tears reached her feet. Rhaenyra presses her lips, hugging the death one.

■ ■ ■

Princce Aemond dressed himself in, as usual, clothes that are completely and wholy black. His jacket is, his patch as well, his boots are, his belt is, and his coat is too. Too much black for a green, perhaps, but the boy knows his meanings, and perhaps that is enough of what we should know of his dressing choices.

The One-Eyed Prince is at his chambers, by himself, standing alone in the middle of it. He stares at his own reflection, in a mirror hanged in one of the walls. He has bags under his purple eyes, and no humidity on his white lips. His hair, though, is flawless, as...always.

That moment with Aegon, in The Iron Throne's hall, keeps wandering around his head. But honestly, at these times, what doesn't? Everything has been happening too fast. At one second he's wondering wether if his brother suspects that he's been having an affair with their cousin, and at the next second he ask himself what is Daera doing at the moment, wether if she already knows of these times's happenings or not. If not, how long until she does so? How long until everything changes? This time for real.

The prince blinks, silently, pouting his lips, and looking down at his black boots. Then he looks at the floor, having a memory of it. Nearly for a second, he saw Daera lying in there, smiling to him from down, sweetly.

The doors of his chambers are opened, making that memory to blur away, and him to quickly lift his head, seeing the ones who entered. His grandfather, The Hand, and his mother, The Queen.

While Otto walks towards his grandson, Alicent walked herself to the chimney, keeping distance with them. Her hands are crossed over her belly, and her lips are nervously pressed. She looks thoughtful.

-You look ready, my prince-. The Hand speaks, proud as always, looking at him from feet to toe. Aemond blinks one time, examining him as well.

-So do you, grandpa-. He says, crossing his hands behind his back.

Otto Hightower has been given a mission, as we remember. He is to go to Dragonstone and to deliver terms to the princess Rhaenyra, terms which intentions are to avoid the worst invention of mankind: war. And to keep the realm at peace. That is only if she accepts them, of course; the terms alone achieve nothing by themselves.

And, as it happens to be, prince Aemond has a mission too. The Small Council decided that they are to treat with Lord Borros Baratheon. Queen Alicent declared that they must make sure to guide him through the right path, one that leads to Aegon's kingship's prevalency. Whereupon, she'll sent her second son.

-Your purpose is to win the hand of one of Lord Baratheon's daughters-. His grandsire, Otto, told him. Aemond hears him with a quiet expression, attentive, almost tense. Standing close the fire, Alicent eyes them both, placing a nervous hand on her chest-. Any of the four will do-, he assures.

The prince hums, blinkless. He thinks of his wife, his true wife. He really is entrusted to marry a woman that he doesn't know, much less love, or even have a small interest for. He does not. He wishes to remain with only one bride, one of purple eyes, brown skin and white curls. One he does knows, and loves.

But, alas, what is he supposed to do, for the gods' sake? This is his family, his side, and he must fight for it, no matter what it costs, no matter how much it hurts.

-Woo her and wed her, and Lord Borros will deliver the stormlands for your brother-. Otto says with a tiny twisted smiled, raising his old brows and looking at his only eye. Aemond blinks one time, slowly nodding. The Hand breathes in, fading that smile away-...Fail, and-

-I will not fail-. Prince Aemond blustered with his smooth voice. From the distance, Alicent gulps, listening to her boy-. Aegon will have Storm's End, and I will have this girl-. He declares, firmly.

That made Sir Otto to smirk lightly. He does not say one more word, and turns around. He eyes his daughter, who did not look back at him, and then he left, closing the door behind him, and departing to Dragonstone at once.

Aemond blinks, looking down again.

Playing with her closed fists, Alicent sighs, and walks to him. Seconds after, the prince feels a hand on his nape and another on his back. Afterwards, he found his mother pushing him to hug him to her body. He sighed at the moment of feeling her warmth.

The one-eyed blinks slowly, looking at her red curls, which are skimming his long nose. Seconds then, Alicent looks back at him, sweetly gripping both his arms, and staring at his eye.

-Ready then?-. She murmurs.

-Yes-, he whispered. Alicent pressed her lips, almost nervous, nodding in silence. He breathes in, looking at her-. As much as I am willing to perform my duty, I must confess to you: a part of me wishes to stay-. The prince admits. She furrows her brows, lightly confused-. Here. With you, Helaena, and the children, mother-. Aemond mutters, somewhat worried.

The Queen blinks a few times, opening her lips, and sighing heavily, nearly lifting a side of her mouth to smile. He does not find it funny, though.

-I feared for your lives this morning, mom-. Aemond confesses with a low tone, recalling how she was literally face to face to The Red Queen, Meleys. He placed an arm in front of Helaena, but to what end? They would all have burned.

-Worry not, my sweet summer child-. The Queen whispers, softly, caressing his arms as she smiles tinyly. Aemond was about to refute-. Word has already been sent to Daeron. He'll be soon on his way here-, she raised her brows-. We'll have his dragon, and Aegon's, and Helaena's-. She conforted him, so sure that he was almost starting to feel calm. Truth be told, she was ten times more worried than him, but only on her grave she would let her son know it-...We shall be save, Aemond-. She assured him.

The prince blinks, humming lowly, raising his hands to caress his mother's shoulders. Softly, she scrunches her nose into a brief laugh, and then she tip-toed to reach his face, kissing both of his cheeks, blessing him, and wishing him luck.

In this moment, we are very proud to attest that prince Aemond, afterwards, chuckled. He smiled towards his mom.

Alicent looked at her son with love and trust, feeling in her heart that, whatever he does in the stormlands, will be perfect. As always.

And thus, it was not a raven who took flight to Storm's End that day, but Vhagar, oldest and largest of the dragons of Westeros, as we well know. On her back rode Prince Aemond Targaryen, with a sapphire in the place of his missing eye.

But, before that, Aemond found himself opening the doors to Helaena's chambers. He was all ready to go, until a guard came looking for him in her name, summoning him to her apartments. And here he is now.

-Sister?-, the prince calls.

Helaena turned her head around. In her arms, hugged to her chest, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera sleep with deepness. At the moment of seeing her brother, she filled her chest with air, and quickly stood up.

-Let me help you-. Fastly, Aemond went to her help. He carried the boy in his arms, walking towards the craddles. Following him, with the girl on her arms, Helaena blinkled while looking at his back, quietly-. You...you called for me, did you not?-. He asks with a low tone, carefully placing Jaehaerys on his craddle.

-I did, yes-. Helaena answers, doing the same with Jaehaera, pressing a little smile while looking at her children-. I am to go with Dreamfyre, in a moment, but...I wanted to see you off first-, she confesses, looking back at him.

Slowly, Aemond looks at her too, briefly curving his brows when seeing a strange kind of worriness on his sister's clear gace. He clears his throat, nodding.

-Do not think I would have left without saying goodbye-. He murmurs, honest. That made her to grin for a quick second, sucking her inferior lip to the insides of her mouth-. I'll be back from Storm's End in matter of no time-, he says.

Helaena blinks slowly, sighing through her nose, and walking away from the cradles. After a quick check to the babes, Aemond follows her, walking behind his sister.

-If you are to wed this...girl from the storms, then...-Helaena turns around with slowness, facing him. He stops walking, pressing his lips, almost knowing what she was about to ask-...then what will happen with Daera?-, she questions, cocking her head.

Aemond sighed longly, nearly closing his eye, but he rapidly shook his head, keeping his posture.

-These are hard times, dear sister-. The prince speaks under a curious and worried gace of hers-. Daera is married to another person as well, so actually my acts will not be so significantly rebelious to our marriage, nor to my cause at all-. He raises his brows.

-But...-, she sighs, having no word to speak.

-And, to be fair, me marrying someone else will surely surely be the least of our problems, the least of all of our problems-. The prince stresses, raising his brows towards her-. There are more...concerning matters-, he gulps, fearing the threat of war.

Helaena looks down, pressing her lips. She starts to shake her head from side to side, furrowing her brows.

-This should not be happening-. She denies, making her brother to cock his head, surprised-. She should be Queen-. Helaena whispers her words with firmness and frustration, scrunching her nose.

-Helaena!-. Aemond quickly scolds, walking closer to her. She stands her ground, curving her lips down while looking at him-. Must I remind you what Daera's family were to do to us if we wouldn't fight back?-, he hisses-. Must I recall you that we're doing what we're doing in the name of our lives and our prevalency, of your children's?-. He asks, almost angry.

-Our sister would never mess with none of the both-, the princess shakes her head.

-She took my eye, mercilessly-. The one-eyed stressed with a low voice, calmed yet serious. In that moment, Helaena kept silence, gulping, and glancing at her sleeping children. She curved her brows, gulping again.

After that, she remained silent. What she did next was to step closer to him, and grant him a soft and warm hug. Aemond closed his lips, blinking bigly.

They rarely hug each other, to be honest.

The One-Eyed Prince let his guard off, and he sighed through his nose, closing his eyes, and hugging back the sweet innocent sister of hers. They kept whole silence, only feeling the other's grip and heartbeat.

Aemond took that moment to rest, placing his chin on her head, and breathing calmly. Helaena, on the other hand, remained with her worried eyes opened, and tears started to climb up to them. She was hugging him harder, almost as if she didn't want him to leave at all; perhaps she doesn't. The princess sniffs her nose, and listen to his heart on her ear, almost hearing a grieving song written by its beats. He's sad.

-Goodbye, brother...-. She whispered. For she knows, in some strange way, that the man that will return from Storm's End will not be his brother. At least not one the same as this.

■ ■ ■

On Dragonstone, screams echoed through the halls and stairwells of Sea Dragon Tower, down from the queen's apartments where Rhanyra Targaryen strained and shuddered in the most difficult labor of her life. Her last, though she does not know it yet.

Prince Daemon walks through the beach, alone, grabbing the handle of his sheathed sword, Dark Sister. He goes forward, with his eyes lost in the sand, his steps slow and, it surprises us to say, weak.

The child had not been due for another three more turns of the moon, but the tidings from King's Landing, delivered by princess Rhaenys herself, had driven The Heir into a black fury, and her rage seemed to bring on the birth, as if the babe inside her were angry too, and fighting to get out.

The Silent Sisters watch how their work is being done by the princess Rhaenyra, who still boils in her own sweat and blood. Her hands are full out it. This is mainly because she herself is the one wrapping the corpse of her child. Her lips tremble as she weakly wraps the silk around his deformed head. Her tiny feet, her non-existent eyes, her non-beating heart...

The princess shrieked curses all through her labor, agonizing, not having the strength to call down the wrath of the gods upon her half-brothers and their mother, the queen, her childhood companion. The maester and midwives of her could do nothing, and neither could her oldest step-daughter, princess Daera, who could only grab her hands and accept the violent scratches she unconciously gave her.

Daemon Targaryen has just lost his second child. His second daughter, and he wasn't even present. But, to be fair...how could he? When Laena Velaryon, his dear, couldn't make it through her last birth, all the surgeon did was to ask him to give the veredict, to decide wether his child would live or not, because his wife was definetely not going to. As Rhaenyra began her labour, he went away, as away as possible from her. He started to plot war, to send ravens, to pretend to not hear her. In that way, no maester came to him to ask him what cannot be answered.

Rhaenyra cursed the child inside her too. She yelled, claring at her swollen belly as Maester Gerardys and the midwives tried to restraing her and shouting "Monster, monster, get out, get out, GET OUT!"

Rhaenyra couldn't hold herself any longer, and she fell right on her knees in the cold floor, hugging the body's litte wrapped legs. She trembles and sobs with her eyes closed. The princess cries with no end, shaking her head. She cries for her babe, for her father, for her husband, for their children, for the future.

When the babe at last came forth, she proved indeed a monster: a stillborn girl, twisted and malformed, with holes in her eyes' socket and what appear to be a stubby, scaled tail. Rhaenyra carried the little thing herself to the yard, for the burning, but we're still not there.

Princess Daera's dress is dirty with her step-mother's blood, but little does she know, nor care. The strong breeze of the mountains blows her sweated hair as she walks up with trembling and longs steps. She goes with her throat afflicted and her eyes tearing. The princess cries and limps as a sick woman. And, in the top of the mountain, Kalistrox awaits for her, crying the loss as well.

The dead girl had been named Visenya.

When Daera arrives to the top, five heads turned around to look at her. Red cheeks, trembling lips, crying eyes and pained sobs was all she heard and see. Her siblings; Baela, Rhaena, Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey, were crying as hard as her, with as much pain and despair.

-Daera-, Luke squealed, as red as the blood on her.

Today, they have lost their safety, they have lost their uncle, their grandsire. They have lost a sister they didn't even get to meet.

Daera sobbs, gasps, and then falls right into the ground, not keeping her own weight any longer. She collapsed completely, and her siblings were not far behind. They all hit the ground around her, crying non-stop, grieving like they had never grieved in their lives. At least not like this, not with so much weight, so much awareness, so much concern, so much unity.

Jacaerys hits the grass with his fists, Rhaena pulls it with despair, Baela hides her face behind her knees, screeching sadly, Lucerys shakes his head from side to side, Joffrey hugs his oldest sister as he cries endlessly. And she sobs with no sound, forever eye-closed, burning from within.

-Why is this happening?!-. The little boy, Joff, shrieks with confusion, the poor lad. His siblings cry even harder, wondering the same thing.

Near them, standing on the ground, Kalistrox purrs with no energy. Above of him, in the skies, Vermax, Arrax, Moondancer and Tyraxes fly around the mountain, looking down at them too. All of the dragons grieve with their riders, as sad as them. Syrax cries from the caves, and Caraxes is nowhere to be seen.

■ ■ ■

Visenya's funeral was held that same day.

Near the Dragonmont, away from the castle, the burning of the babe happened under a clear calmed sky, close the sea, and under a bunch of tired faces and sad eyes.

There are a handful of guards standing on the highest rocks around, keeping those below safe and under their sights. Anyway, even the guards looked down from time to time, feeling their hearts tighten when they saw the smoke coming from the corpse.

Lesser lords and crew from the castle both mourn with the royal family. Many of them can't stop staring at the other children, having an affection for them that hurts, right now, when imagining what they must be feeling now. The whole family is broken.

They, at least, are already clean. They washed temselves from feet to toe and changed into their usual clothes, only that with black capes on their shoulders, falling in the ground. They have stopped crying too, but the feeling is inmaculate, and cannot be heavier.

Rhaenyra and Daemon's children are all standing the closer to them, out of the others. They stand side to side, silent. There are still some tiny tears on Joffrey's eyes, who is holding Rhaena's and Jacaerys' hands. Luke, standing besides Daera and Baela, stares front with a worried frown, constantly gulping. Baela's face is hardened, keeping her lips closed. Daera, instead, keeps hers open, while her eyes are fixated on the stone pyre.

Rhaenys, on the other hand, stands the farest from them. Still dressed in her riding armour, The Lady of Driftmark watches everything from her place. She analyzes everything, trying not to focus so much on her grandchildren's faces, and instead doing it in Daemon and Rhaenyra, seeing them bury their child, just as she once did. Twice, better said. Both times because of them...

Princess Daera is tired, emotionally exhausted. A thousand things are crossing through her mind at this very moment. Nyra has lost a girl. Viserys is dead. Aegon has been crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms. Aemond betrayed her, once again, in a row. Her husband...his family...guilty of all of this.

Daera couldn't help it, and a trembling sobb came out of her mouth, nearly scared, so hurted. Jacaerys turned his head to look at her, curving his brows. Then, he held one of her hands, intertwining their fingers.

She sighed heavily, closing her eyes, and resting her head on his chest, tiredly. She sighs, once again. Her husband.

As to Daemon and Rhaenyra, they stand right in front of the burning pyre, their burning babe. Milk of the poppy got to blubt the edge of her physical pain. Her hair is dry, broken by her harsh labor. The princess' baggy eyes are lost in the flames as she shakes her head lazily from time to time. She seems to be in trance.

"She was my only daughter...and they killed her. They stole my crown and murdered my daughter." Rhaenyra thinks, swollen in pain.

The prince, on the other hand, stares at her with no end. He keeps wondering and wondering and wondering. What is she thinking about? When will she take action? What is she going to do?

"They stole her crown and murdered our daughter. They must answer for it." Daemon thinks, raged.

In the middle of all the silence, steps started to being heard among the people. Daemon immediately starts to turn around, while the White Cloaks behind them took action as well, walking forward. When hearing the steps, Daera opens her eyes, and Jace looks too, the both of them furrowing their brows with alert.

The two White Cloaks in front of prince Daemon took out their swords and, to everyone's confussion, the walker in question is, in fact, a White Cloak as well.

-I mean no harm, brothers!-. The man spoke, taking off his helmet.

This man is Ser Erryk Cargyll. He lifted his chin, and looked towards Daemon, with his clear eyes being the mix of sorrow and bravery. So much emotion in them.

From the distance, Rhaenys looks at the knight that saved her from the hands of the green, whom she has to thank her scape to.

When seeing it was him, Daera parted her lips, shocked. She drew herself away from Jace's chest, and let go his hand, blinking a few times while looking at the knight. What...what is he doing here? He's Aegon's.

-Arryk-, Jacaerys murmurs.

-Erryk-, Daera corrected in a quick whisper. Her husband presses his lips, nodding to a side.

The other White Cloaks stepped back, and seathed their swords again. That allowed Ser Erryk to walk five steps forward, towards the very prince Daemon, and to kneel in front of him, lowering his head, and placing his helmet on the ground. Then, he opens the bag he carries with him.

Rhaenyra drew her eyes away from Visenya, turning around, and parting her lips when she saw what he took out of that brown leather bag.

The Crown of Jaehaerys, which he raised and offered with both his hands towards both princes, who were left speechless.

-I swear to ward the Queen...!-. Ser Erryk sepaks with firmness and loudness, though he was not screaming. Blinkless, Rhaenyra looks at the crown, the one that stood on her father's head for twenty-six years. Daera looks at him, wordless, seeing her uncle's crown-...with all my strength, and give my blood for hers-, he promises.

Rhaenyra starts to walk, slowly, while Daemon stared down at the crown as well, holding it in his hand.

-I shall take no wife, hold no lands-. The knight goes swearing, firmly. Daemon curves his brows, not hiding his sadness while looking at the Targaryen sigil. He thinks of his brother Viserys-, father no children-. He says. Daera gulps strongly, sharing a quick glance with her siblings, who looked back at her with the same interest-. I shall guard her secrets, obey her commands, ride at her side, and defend her name and honor-. He promises, fearless.

Daemon looks from the crown to his daughters, slightly narrowing his eyes. From her place, Rhaenyra stared at the children as well, and then back at the crown. They both thought the same thing in that moment. They cannot lose another child.

Ser Erryk looks up at his prince with his clear eyes, as honest as truth, having spoken from the bottom of his heart. He knows this is right.

Daemon, with his lips open, turned around his head, taking his eyes from the crown, to its queen. Rhaenyra looks back at him with seriousness, so fragile yet so strong. Sad, but decided. the living image of Viserys Targaryen.

When looking at the eyes of his wife, his got instantly tender, softening his brows. And then, her lips parted when he walks to her with the crown raised, looking at her head.

The children stare at there in awe, bemused, feeling how fast their hearts were starting to beat as their mother is crowned right in front of them.

Daemon kneeled in front of her, raising his head, lifting his eyes towards her, and calling her what she is.

-My Queen-, The Rogue Prince saluted.

Wearing her crown as if it was only ever made for her, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen opened her lips, and lifted her surprised and firm eyes.

She looked all around, and everywhere she'd see everyone atarted to bend their knee, for and to her. Rhaenyra moves her eyes all over the place, over-whelmed, and then she fixated her gace on them, their dearests.

Jace, Luke, Joffrey, Daera, Baela and Rhaena bend the knee altogether at the same time, lowering their head as well in demonstration of full respect to their mother. Their queen.

Rhaenys watches her grandchildren all kneeling. She didn't, having a light smirk on her face. She saw Baela sighing, as with relieve, and Daera pressing her lips, as with decision. The lady heads her eyes forward, silently.

Still kneeled, Ser Erryk blinks a few times, looking at the ground. Seconds then, he turns his face around to the right, looking for someone. And he found her. Daera raised her head, and looked back at him.

The knight's blue eyes met the princess' purple ones, and they both stared at each other while their hearts were beating rapidly due to all the emotions of the moment. Erryk parted his lips, speechless, while Daera pressed hers, feeling how her usual strength and confidence was starting to return to her.

To everyone.

Erryk lowered his head again, bowing, only that this time, it was to her. Daera gulped and kept looking at him firmly, briefly nodding.

With her throat afflicted, Rhaenyra gulped and stared forward with firmness, lifting her chin up and opening her eyes with bravery.

It is her moment.

■ ■ ■

Sometimes, in life, a great moment of despair, sadness and grieving can become in a moment of realization, gain of strength, and gain of will.

That is what has happened today. The stillborn-ess of the princess Visenya Targaryen, who appears wasn't meant to be, brought the royal family into extreme sadness and desperation, to not mention the pluck away of their throne, and rights. However, sadness and desperation came to be hope and will after the arrival of the White Cloak, Ser Erryk Cargyll.

The Crown of Jaehaerys was placed on Rhaenyra's head, an before that, on Viserys'. To be wearing her father's crown almost brought her to tears. She lost him too this very same day, she lost a daughter as well.

When Rhaenyra raised her head, she saw everyone kneeling down. Her husband called her his queen. Her children bent the knee to her. She looked at them and, while thinking of her lost ones, she realized something. She cannot allow herself to lose another.

And so the Dance began, as the Queen called a council of her own.

In her rooms, Daera stares at the two saphire rings her fingers are wearing. She has been wearing them for a year, nearly. The princess gulps, shaking her head for a second, and looking away from her hands, and rising her dress' skirt with them.

She pictured Aemond standing besides Aegon, who is seated on The Iron Throne. The image itself made her shiver, and to shake her head, clenching her teeth. The princess breathes heavily, feeling her thighs, and closing her eyes strongly. Aemond...how could he?

-Fucking...-. Daera gulps, looking down while afflicting her throat, thinking of her husband, the husband she knows dared to place his brother on the throne. After everything, after all this time, after all this marriage, he dared to do that to her-...fucking traitor!-. She spat the word as if her mouth was filled of blood, angry.

Time cannot go back. Her uncle is dead, as well as her sister, and their blood is stained by green hands. Aegon is king now, of at least he is painted as so, but she knows he has no wood. The boy is dirty cotton, and she is not the only one to be aware of it. The princess Daera knows that everybody knows Aegon is no more than a scoundrel. Oh, and she has marks that definetely prove that.

Moments then, a belt fell on the floor of the princess' room. She walked out of it with fastness and determination, never looking back. Behind, she left the leather belt she's always wearing on her thigh, belonging to her husband. The husband who betrayed her, and her family. The belt will not be of her needing now, not where she's going.

"The Black Council"

At the Chamber of The Painted Table, the Queen's council now awaits for her. And, in the meantime, multiple burning candles are placed under the sacred table, leading the fire towards a thousand of lines.

Those lines created rivers, islands, mountains, castles. Dragonstone, Maidenpool, Rook's Rest, The Twins, White Harbour, The Vale of Arryn, The Neck, Harrenhal, the Blackwater Rush. The table maps Westeros whole.

Lucerys parts his lips slowly, staring at all the places in the map. Jace, at his side, does the same, calculatingly and thoughtful. Daemon stands in the head of the table, completely silent and serious, waiting as well as the others. Joffrey has been sent to his rooms, for these are no places for a child.

Ser Erryk, cold-faced and quiet, reads the map in silence, admiring how the fire lits up every single letter. He half-closes his eyes, reading. In another part of the room, Baela stands besides Rhaenys, the both of them silence, the most of the time. The girl is tired, The Lady of Driftmark knows.

Rhaena, while holding a jar of fresh wine for the lords, looks at the floor while thinking of her lost sister. She can't stop thinking of her mother, and the other sibling she lost without even knowing it. That's two. Too much.

Some of the council turn their heads around when listening steps coming by. It is princess Daera who is arriving to the chamber, as confidently as ever, silent, and yet making everyone to notice her. Oh, and they very much did.

The princess wears a black long dress of leather that has no sleeves. And, because of this, everyone got to see the fresh wounds on her. In her left arm five, and in her right one three thin lines of dry blood. From her upper arms, to her wrists as well, untill ending on her shoulders. She is marked by healing red cords.

-Princess!-. Maester Gerardys gulped when looking at her while she approaches the table.

The onlu color on her is the chainmail sleeve she wears on her right arm, red, covering from the start of her wrist to the start of her upper arm. A fine piece she found back in the Street of Steel.

Daemon furrowed his brows slowly, looking at her at every moment, at her wounds, confused.

-My lords-. The princess smirls lightly towards the men, nodding while walking. Her siblings, in silence, look at her with worriness, recalling who made those wounds-. Maester, worry not-. She mumbled when walking by his side. Gerardys stuttered.

Ser Erryk had opened his eyes widely, following her with them at everymoment. He knows, of course, those wounds are the result of the abuse prince Aegon did to her some nights ago. It made him shiver to remember their screams, their curses, and how then the princess screamed and cursed at him too.

Rhaenys blinks fastly, highly confused and worried, about to ask. Only Baela's light and discreet touch made her to keep silence, though still uncomfortable.

Daera placed herself besides her husband, Jacaerys, whom she shared a quick look with. They both noded. The princess, then, gulped and blink, looking to her other side. At her very left, Ser Erryk stands, tall and strong, looking down at her with a tense frown, staring endlessly at her wounds.

-A paint lasts longer-. Daera blinkled calmly, looking away, and lifting her chin.

Erryk nearly gasped, opening his lips and looking at her face. She didn't look back at him. Then, new steps are heard echoing through the halls of close, making everyone to look towards there.

Daemon looked away from his eldest daughter, clenching his jaw, and then lifted his chin when recognizing those steps just by their sound.

-Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen-. The Rogue Prince named. She came through the entrance, walking with her guards, wearing her crown-. First of Her Name-. Daemon says, calmly. Rhaena sighed, and Jace bit his inner cheeks-. Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men-. Daera breathed in deeply, and Baela curved her brows-. Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm-, he declared.

Everyone, less Rhaenys, bowed their heads towards the Queen. Lucerys thought how he was standing in this very same side of the table this moring, talking with her about her heirness. And now look at her. His mom is Queen. Their mom.

-Your Grace-, Daemon welcomed, serious.

Rhaenyra eyes everyone for a few seconds and, when confirming they were all here, her husband and children, she walked forward. She immediately stopped the guards, who were loyally planning to follow her. Gently, and almost doubtly, she raised a hand, asking them to remain there.

When Nyra turned around again, she found Rhaena approaching with a jar and a kind smile. Nyra sighs through nose, thinking how tender she looks.

-Wine, my Queen-. She says.

The Queen started to rise her hand, and then stopped, doubtful. For a second there she almost forgot she wasn't pregnant anymore. She can drink wine, she can drink whatever she desires to, for there is longer no child in her womb.

-Thank you, Rhaena-. Rhaenyra said when finally holding the cup. She looks at the child, blinkless. Now that Visenya is gone...this, this is her younger girl-...Come-, she sweetly murmurs, looking at her.

Daera smirks tinyly, watching as they walk towards the table. On the way, Rhaenyra cocked her head to Baela, inviting her as well. Doubtlessly, after looking at her grandmother, the young woman followed her step-mother and sister, joining the men and their siblings in the table.

The Painted Table is complete now.

Rhaenyra glances at it, and then at her family. Her lips immediately parted, gasping, when seeing the wounds on Daera's arms.

-What- what are those?-. Her voice echoed in the hall whole, bemused. Everyone stared at both princesses, anxious too for the answer.

Rhaenyra had an inmediate thought: that she hurted Daera while she was giving birth. Fright covered her when wondering it was her who hurted her skin so badly. They will scar, noticeably. Is this her fault?, Nyra fears.

The princess clears her throat lightly.

-Granted by The Usurper, my Queen-. Daera answered. Gasps and murmurs were heard all along the hall. Rhaenyra remanied blinkless, bemused, while Rhaenys furrowed her brows strongly.

-How?-. Nyra's voice is firm, annoyed, and motherlike. Daera breathed in deeply, noticing how all the lords and knights were shocked as their rotten image of Aegon II gets worse in their heads. Just as she wants it to be.

-We happened to drive ourselves into a not too friendly fight, Your Grace, when I confronted him about a...vile act of his-. Daera sighs heavily, raising her brows-. This was his answer-, she mumbles, casually, rocking her arms.

Daemon encloses his eyes, looking at his daughter while the lords mumble and shake their heads in disapprovement. She looks back at him, silently, but lifting a side of her lips into a naughty smirk. She knows what she's stating by showing those ugly wounds. Daemon applauded her in his mind, nodding briefly.

Afterwards, they look at Rhaenyra. They all did, waiting for a response. She's just learned that, besides all of his other treacherys, her half-brother also wounded her daughter. Everyone looked at her in hope of a take of action.

In silence, they all waited for her first word as Queen. All heards was the waves from the near beach, and the flapping of their dragons' wings from afar. Daemon stares at her, coldly. She clenched her jaw, eyeing the table while playing with two fingers of hers.

-What is our standing?-. She asked.

The Prince Consort didn't even breathe, and instantly answered.

-We have thirty knights, a hundred crossbowmen, and three hundred man at arms-. They all looked at him inmediately. Daera and Jace leaned their heads forward at the same time-. Dragonstone is relatively easy to defend, but as an instrument of conquest, our army leaves a lot to be desired-. He says.

Luke blinks fastly, not understanding how he knows this much by heart.

-We have sent word to my loyal men in the City Watch. I'll have some support there, bit I cannot speak to the numbers-. Daemon adds, not blinking once. Rhaenyra listens with concentration.

-We already have declarations from Celtigar and Staunton, Massey, Darklyn and Bar Emmon-. Maester Gerardys counts as he looks to the Queen.

While the maester speaks, Jacaerys picks some of the pieced of the table, carrying them. And while thst happens, Nyra sets her eyes on a place in the map, one she instantly pointed to.

-My lady mother was an Arryn-. She reminded, and Jace quickly placed a piece on...-The Vale will not turn cloak against their own kin-, Rhaenyra points.

-And it is ruled by a woman, Jeyne Arryn, your aunt-. Daera looked at that point as well when she spoke, raising her brows. Ser Erryk looks at her by the side of his blue eyes, curious-. Were she to support Cunt Aegon, and not you, a woman, will bring a lot to be said about her own ruleship, wether she wants it or not-. The princess points with bluntness, shaking her head.

The many lord nodded towards her with reasoning, as serious as rocks. Nyra gave her a nod, concording too, and quickly lifting a side of her lips. Rhaenys, from her place, did the same.

-Riverrun was always a close friend to your father, Your Grace-. Gerardys pointed with a calmed tone, looking at her. Rhaena nods silently, interested-. With prince Daemon's acquiescence, I've already sent ravens to Lord Grover-. He states proudly, glancing towards the prince, who nodded briefly.

But when Grover was mentioned, Rhaenyra became more tense than usual, something that only her children noticed. Curious, they look at her, while she looks at Daemon, blinkless. It is as if they know something they don't.

-Lord Grover is fickle and easily swayed. He will need to be convinced of the strength of our position-. While she speaks firmly, he gulps, emotion-less-, and that we will support him should it come to war-. Rhaenyra adviced.

-I'm going to treat with him myself-. Daemon, then, said. That made Rhaenyra even more tense, making their children to look at one another, suspiciously.

-What of Storm's End and Winterfell?-. One of the old lords asks.

-There has never lived a Stark who forgot an oath, and with House Stark, the North will follow-. Lord Bartimos said.

Daera sighed lowly, heading her eyes to Winterfell, and then to Storm's End. Little does she knows that her husband, right as we speak, rides Vhagar towards that very same place, planning on marrying one of the lord's daughter.

But we're not there yet.

-Lord Borros Baratheon will need to be reminded of his father's promises-. The Queen declared, serious.

Jace licked his lips, sharing a glance with his wife, who looked back at him in silence. Then, they both see one of the Queen's Guard placing a golden piece on the map. On Winterfell.

Jacaerys places another piece near a place he wanted his mother to see. When she read the word Driftmark, she breathed in deeply, and lifted her chin and voice.

-What news from Driftmark?-. Rhaenyra asked, turning around to look at The Lady of Driftmark. Daera and her siblings looked at her grandma, expecting help from her.

For a second, Rhaenys' eyes were soft towards Rhaenyra, seeing her as Queen. But then she just raised her brows, loosening her face.

-Lord Corlys sails for Dragonstone-. She informed, instantly surprising the lot of her grandchildren.

-To declare for his Queen-. Daemon states with pride and a cocky smirk, watching at his cousin. Rhaenyra kind of repproached him with her eyes, while Rhaenys only kept smirking softly, looking back at him.

-The Velaryon fleet is in my husband's yoke-. The princess answers. Daera clenches her lips, lightly desperated by her grandma's desinterest-. He decides where they sail-, she declares, winning a harsh look from Daemon.

-We shall pray for both you and your husband's support-. The Queen softly says, while all her children stare at their grandma endlessly-. Just as we prayed nightly for the Sea Snake's return to good health-. She pointed. That, and the heavy glances of her grandchildren, made Rhaenys to look down, gulping-. There's no port on the Narrow Sea would dare to make an enemy of the Velaryon fleet-. Rhaenyra denies, cocking her head, and turning around again.

Daera sucks the inside of one of her cheeks, thinking of her nearing grandsire. She blinks, and then ups her head, looking at Ser Erryk. She found the knight already staring at her. They both looked away instantly.

-And our enemies?-. Rhaenyra questions.

-We have no friends among the Lannisters-. Daemon, as usual, answers fastly-. Tyland has served The Hand too long to turn against him, and Otto Hightower needs the Lannister fleet-. He pointed. Baela raised her brows with dissapproval, not liking the fact.

The princess Daera scrunches her mouth, lightly, when she suddlenly started to feel some discomfort on her chest, an unquietness. "Kalistrox", she thinks, knowing these feelings were his. The girl furrows her brows.

-Without the Lannisters, we are not like to find any allies west of the Golden Tooth-. The Queen realizes as well.

-No-. Her husband quickly denied. She looked up at him, and so he looked down, almost ashamed-. The Riverlands are essential, Your Grace-. He murmurs.

Luke and Rhaena fastly turned their heads when Lord Bartimos suddenly spoke.

-Pray forgive my bluntness, Your Grace, but talk of men is moot-. He says quickly, looking at the Queen. Daera, Jace and Erryk look at him with interest at the same time-. Your cause owns a power that has not been seen in this world since the days of Old Valyria! Dragons!-. The lord spoke with passion.

As the word is mention, Daera gently closed her fists at the sides of her body, thinking of her golden boy. Jace did the same with Vermax, lifting his chin. Baela also seemed prideful of her beast. Meanwhile, Rhaenyra was the only one to be left bemused.

-The greens have dragons as well-, she pointed with obviousness.

-They have three adults, by my count-. By how fast he talked, Daemon almost seemed to interrupt her.

Daera blinks slowly, losing herself on her mind for a few moments. If dragons are to fight between each other...gods, it'd be catastrophic. The only thought made her to shiver and gulp, not too fascinated by the idea of dragon killing dragon. What if hers is to fight...Aemond's?

-We have Syrax, Caraxes, Kalistrox and Meleyes-. Daemon counts with confidence, enterclosing his purrple eyes. Baela and Rhaena raised their brows and glanced at their grandma, who blinked with taunt when her dragon was mentioned as one of theirs-. Our sons have Vermax, Arrax and Tyraxes!-. He keeps naming, proudly. Luke plays with his fingers, thinking of his young dragon-. Baela has Moondancer-, he recalls, softly, looking at his daughter.

-Daemon, none of our dragons have been to war-. Rhaenyra is fast to point the fact out, serious.

-Not against another dragon-. Daera whispered to herself, but both men at her sides heard her. Jace, who pressed his lips and nodded, agreeing with her, and Ser Erryk, who blinked thoughtfuly when thinking of her skills as a dragonrider. Would she be afraid of war?, he wonders.

-There are also unclaimed dragons-. Daemon points-. Seasmoke still resides on Driftmark. Vermithor and Silverwing dwell on the Dragonmont...still riderless...-, and when the prince added that part, he eyed his youngest daughter. Rhaena's heart skipped a beat for a second as she looked at him, thinking of those unclaimed dragons-. Then there are the three wild dragons, all of whom nest here-, he recalls.

-And who is to ride them?-. The Queen questioned, bemused, not following his plan.

-Dragonstone has thirteen to their four-. Prince Daemon counted with firmness.

Daera slightly turned her head when Ser Erryk fled from her side. Curious, she sees him approaching towards a servant who stands in the entrance. Afterwards, she blinks and pay attention to the table again, still wondering why Kalistrox is feeling annoyed.

-We also have that bag of eggs incubating in the Dragonmont-. Daemon recalls, suddenly taking one of the pieces, and moving from his place for the first time-. Now...we need a place to gather, a toehold large enough to house a sizable host-. He goes saying, loudly.

-Where?-. Baela murmurs.

-Here, at Harrenhal-. And the prince placed the piece in said place. Daera furrows her brows.

-Larys Strong is Harrenhal's lord, and Alicent Hightower's bitch. His people won't be happy-. The prince's eldest daughter spoke, crossing her arms.

-Neither'll we-. Daemon mumbles with taunt, side-eyeing her for a quick second. She raised her brows, sharing a glance with Nyra, who sighed heavily through her nose-. We cut off the west, surround King's Landing with the dragons, and we could have every Green head mounted on spikes before the fucking moon turns-. The rage of a grieving warrior made him to speak fastly and harshly.

Daera parted her lips instantly, shivering. He wouldn't be talking about Aemond too, nor Helaena nor her children, right? Aegon is the only one that needs to be killed, right? Holy fucks. FUCK!

-Your Grace-. Erryk approaches back to the table, hurried and tense. The Queen turned to look at him-. A ship has been sighted offshore-. He informs duly. Luke inmediately takes a step back, frightened. Daera afflicts her throat-. A lone galleon, flying a banner of a three-headed green dragon-. The knight describes.

-Shit-, Daera instantly flinched.

-Alert the watchtowers, sight the skies!-. Daemon's cold voice orders as he quickly turns around and heads to grab Dark Sister.

Rhaenyra looks down, pressing her lips.

Luke gulps heavily, looking at his mother with worriness.

-Jace, Baela, come with me. Now!-. Daera does not wate a second and starts to walk fastly towards the exit.

Jacaerys and Baela immediately abandoned their stations and walked behind their sister with the same quickness as hers. Lucerys and Rhaena followed them with their surprised and fearful eyes.

-Whe- where are you going?!-. Rhaena yelled at them while everyone else started to go from one place to another.

Daera, Baela and Jace walked down the stairs with fastness. And, while doing so, the eldest answered.

-To sight the skies!-. The Rogue Princess firmly said.

■ ■ ■

[unohanabbygirl]

Back at it again with a giant ask about a FMN and HIPS crossover. Thank you so much for giving me the time of day. Onwards! I’m obsessed with idea of artwork and the way it exists in your reincarnated universe. Is it a slap in the blacks/Osferth’s face that Aemond surrounds himself with depictions of Luke’s assault? It’s so fucked up for Aemond to try to convince Rhaenyra and everyone that he is changing, wants to be better and is good enough to meet Osferth, but then spends hours upon hours surrounded by expressions of the horrific crime that happened? Would you say that the blacks can see right through him and know that while he’s not proud of the assault, he takes narcissistic pleasure in being remembered by history? “Please let Osferth know I called” Aemond says while staring at a romanticized depiction of the assault he committed. Can you imagine Heleana taking the children to visit Aemond at work and they walk down a hallway to his office with all those paintings leading the way? Or if Maelor and the twins learned about him in school and THEN remembered and felt sick knowing he was their uncle but Alicent/Helaena encourages them to give him a chance? Imagine r*pe apologist Alicent trying to keep the truth from them but like the internet exists?? It would be interesting in that scenario that the more Alicent pushes the narrative that Aemond was the victim or Luke was a liar as a way to rally the targtowers, she just ends up isolating herself and Aemond even more? It would be INSANE for Alicent to drag all of them to church including Helaena’s kids only to have the priests start on about how evil Aemond was and the sin he committed against the Mother. So much of FMN is these two groups coming together so it’s fascinated to see the same people again so polarized. Also it would be SO dope to have Daeron and Luke meet first because Daeron wouldn’t recognize him? He remembers Like as children vaguely but had no idea he was this amazing as a teen.

You mentioned that Daella was an omega…since it’s modern times and medicine is so much better can we please have great granny Daella alive and well and she’s one of Luke’s mentors? They don’t even know their connection!

I also have to ask that since it’s an abo verse in the FMN universe, does Luke still go through the trauma you’ve written as his back story? The repeated abuse, Owen’s presence, and his case? I would imagine that with scents—to put it crudely—teachers and government officials in charge of his foster care would be able to smell if he was being abused? Since he’s an omega does he actually end up in a much better situation when placed in foster care bc I would think that special treatment is given to omegas? Honestly I feel like the trauma he’s gone through in FMN plus HIPS is a little TOO angsty. Especially with this last chapter of FMN showing the way repeated assaults have just utterly destroyed his sense of self worth and remembering would just prove to himself that HE’S the problem. To know that this didn’t just happen to him in modern times but also in a previous life seems too much to bear.

In a different line of thought, I know some of us may tend to skip over this when reading because we want the drama, but wealth and class are a huge presence in FMN. Could you expand on what it’s like for the targtowers not to have access to that? I can’t remember if they are using Viserys’ money or if Alicent is also well off. It’s easy to share the wealth when all is forgiven, but in this scenario I don’t see Vizzy giving any money over to them solely because of what Aemond did to Luke. Also…what’s Rhaenys like in this? I remember from the original post of the HIPS drabble that she brings Luke back to KL thinking he is one of Corlys side pieces which kicks off the whole reunion. What’s it like for her to be in the presence of a Luke who doesn’t remember who in the past she unwittingly forced from his sanctuary? I feel like the whole family would be terrified of spending too much time with him because they DON’T want him to remember. Of course some of these questions may be difficult to answer since both stories are unfinished. We don’t yet know a lot of the behavior of the blacks bc unlike in canon, Luke returns to them with Osferth.

Of course! I love this crossover so much and I’d be more than happy if you kept the questions coming so long as you have them ☺️

As for your first question; Aemond knows his obsession with such artwork is more than a bad look for him in this journey to prove he’s a changed man and earn Rhaenyra’s trust in order to actually be allowed contact with Osferth. Because of this he’d more than likely keep his interest a secret for as long as possible despite filling his life with horrid depictions of his worst crime. However, I imagine it would all come out in the open after Egg takes a school trip to the museum Aemond works at and spots him in a trance with a very explicit piece of Luke’s assault. It’s enough to make Egg’s stomach churn as his classmates also express their discomfort with the piece.

Of course the first thing Egg does is text his mom before snapping a picture as evidence since he’s no different from the rest of the blacks in completely being against Aemond having contact with Osferth. And this little infatuation is more than a enough evidence to prove that he doesn’t deserve it. After all, how would Osferth fell knowing his father tries to constantly relive the worst act committed against his muna?

This ends with a “family” meeting consisting of both fractions in order to discuss this new development leading Aemond to have no choice but to reveal his new place of work (though he keeps his true reasons for taking up the curator job rather than his original plan to become an archivist to himself)

The meeting is an absolute mess because both sides have their arguments. With the blacks its “why should we believe he’s a different man when he clearly gets some sort of sick satisfaction from surrounding himself with glorified art of what he did to my son/brother. Do you think Osferth would be happy to know this?” and for the greens its “But you all know Aemond has always expressed interest in uncovering and learning as much as he can in regards to history. Is he supposed to find a new passion just because those artworks happen to he there? There isn’t a single museum in the country that don’t have similar paintings available for viewing.”

The meeting ends without coming to a valid middle ground and on continues the internal fighting among them all. And though both Alicent and Helaena know their argument was bs seeing as Aemond could easily find a position that doesn’t involve surrounding himself with such violent art, they can’t help but be on his side. For Alicent it’s because she truly sees no wrong in her sons actions because “it was Luke’s sinful nature that seduced my son.” While for Hel it’s simply because she feels its her duty to remain at her mother and brothers side. This in turn leads down the path of Maelor and the twins learning what their uncle is remembered for.

This is one thing the greens (except Daeron) have never actually taken into consideration. Hel’s kids aren’t going to remain naïve children forever. They’re growing by the day and the kiddy lenses they view the world through are slipping off with time. I feel that its when the twins reach their 6th grade year that they learn the total extent of Aemond’s actions during a history lesson. They want to learn more which leads them to researching more at a friends house after school. Long story short it leaves them feeling sick with a sense of betrayal towards their family. Their eldest uncle may be less than kind to others but he’s always been good to them. It causes them to look back at their immediate families actions and it makes a lot of sense. Daeron’s constant malice towards Aemond and Alicent, their grandmother’s outdated faith to the old ways of the seven (which I feel would be similar to the old Testament) as well as her constant attempts to shield them from learning about history, I.e. keeping them from viewing any history channels and putting child block on certain sites. Their mother has always seemed uncomfortable with Alicent’s approach at making sure they’re blind to the truth and now they know why.

I don’t think either of the twins would be the type to approach Alicent head on but the shift in energy towards both her and Aemond would make their new knowledge obvious. This in turn leads to an immediate trip to Sunday service the next day to quote “wash away the lies” but it all gets thrown back in her face when the septon begins preaching of “respecting the holy omega” and “all who’ve done wrongs towards embodiment of the mother in any way shall burn”

Its safe to say the trip back home is VERY silent.

Daeron meeting Luke first would be a good choice because he practically has no idea what a young Luke looks like since all memories of his nephew are from when Luke was grown. He’d likely have no idea that Luke Rivers is actually Lucerys and thus form a genuine friendship with this rebellious and carefree omega who’s so different from his high society Peers Alicent encourages him to befriend. I’d even say Luke treats him like a little brother despite being a year younger. For the first time in his life Daeron feels like he’s in good hands, which makes sense once the truth comes out.

I love the idea of great-granny Daella! Maybe she works at a foster center and feels a strong connection with this amazing young man before taking him under her wing. Telling him stories of her youth and giving advice on how to navigate the world while still being true to himself. I feel she’d 100% think of adopting Luke herself after some years go by without this sweet boy finding a forever family but her higher ups tell her it wouldn’t be permitted. I can imagine her going on about Luke to her daughter and granddaughter all the time and it makes Nyra cry because all she can imagine is her own lost son. Maybe it would come to the point where she brings them to meet Luke during one of the centers field day for the younger kids where the older teens help out and bam! Family reunion. Though I think such a revelation would give granny a bit of an anxiety attack 😭

Since Luke has already been through sexual trauma in his past I would completely change his current storyline. As you said, its all way too angsty and feels like putting Luke through abuse for the sake of it which i’m not a fan of. To know he’s been assaulted in both lives would likely send Luke down a path of contemplating hurting himself in a surge of hopelessness. It’s way too cruel for comfort. While this Luke has been in crappy foster homes and even been groped without his permission once or twice, he’s certainly never experienced r*pe or a forced sex act of any kind. Nor has he shot up the heavier drugs such as milk of the poppy.

However the question of if public officials could smell if a child was being hurt in that way is an interesting one because there are so many possibilities that along come with it. People can in fact smell the scent of abusers on children in the system along with their fear which make the chances of creeps trying anything incredibly low but sometimes a r*pist throw caution out of the window during extended holiday breaks in the school year since there’s enough time for the “smell” to wash off naturally along with long forced shower. Scent blockers have the ability to conceal this quite easily but there are many limits such as age and reason. If a child hasn’t presented yet for example.

Getting your hands on these isn’t an easy task; you have to have an actual reason for why you need the blockers, multiple doctor’s visits and received many sign offs as proof to whatever pharmacist that your prescription is valid. Think of it like getting a Percocet prescription. There are so many current barriers in place that even when prescribed by your doctor for a valid reason pharmacist will still turn you away.

Even with these measures put in place there’s always someone things illegally so the possibility of predators abusing this drugs to cover their crimes remains.

If Owen does exist in this au i’d rather have him be the way older boyfriend who sometimes snorts coke and is a bit of a weirdo but overall is harmless loser who works at the local 7/11

What makes this s Luke different is that he’s experienced a much better life due to his status since there are a multitude of precautions in place to make sure such a vulnerable percentage of the population remains safe. All omega homes and government programs keep them together with older omegas to act as a guiding hand. I can also imagine something akin to an omega protection act. Luke’s omega status has saved him from so much trauma in this life, a complete 180 from the past and will overall serve to help give him faith for both his and Osferth’s safety once his memories return.

The question of class and wealth is one I always love answering because there’s so many way’s which their money and connections affect their lives. In the original story Alicent’s money is her own BUT it was Nyra, Daemon and Viserys that got her out of the mud so she could build herself up. Since their relationship is so strained in this AU Alicent would find herself marrying into high class through lies of her true connections to the Lannister’s (not to mention she’s a Tully despite technically being a bastard. But unsurprisingly she doesn’t allow herself to acknowledge it.) Alicent would definitely go about the path of seducing a way older man whose the head of a great house (maybe Baratheon?) and slipping her way into his will before its light’s out. It hurts her mentally in way since she’s basically repeating the past step for step. Yet she’s so used to her past life of absolute luxury that remaining a working class citizen is beneath her in her mind. Because of this Aegon/Hel and Aemond/Daeron would have different fathers which is it’s own can of worms.

Now that I think about it, giving her last two children brown hair and eye’s is a fun idea to play around with. While Aegon and Helaena have traditional Lannister looks from their father it would be a huge hit to Aemond’s self esteem to have “basic” coloring. Not to mention that it would basically make the resemblance between him and Osferth that much more striking…gonna think about this some more. But back to my point—

Alicent still finding a way to slither her way into wealth is a hit to the Rhaenyra big time. It just goes to show that she’ll never truly escape Alicent’s nasty ways. The upperclass are in such a tight-nit circles therefore they’re all forced to interact and play nice to keep up a good image for both their peers and the public. I can imagine that once some years pass and everyone comes together that gala’s, banquet’s, and all that jazz are so tense. Especially when its the kids who are forced to interact at nice events that are full of pressure to lay on the nice-nice act thick.

As for Rhaenys, her hope to make up her mistakes to Luke is even stronger in this crossover because if it hadn’t been for her, Luke and Osferth would’ve remained happy and carefree in their peaceful lives. Luke wouldn’t have been forced to deal with the judgment of the entire realm on his back and Osferth would never be exposed to such nastiness that comes with royalty and nobility. All the boy has ever known is pure love so the switch to being looked at as dirt beneath people’s shoes is so much to handle. And though Rhaenys never intended for her actions to destroy their little slice of heaven its still an action that changed their lives drastically. Rhaenys would definitely find herself trapped in a constant battle between wanting Luke to remember so she can express her regret and attempt to make it up, and wanting him to remain oblivious so he doesn’t have to deal with trauma from his past.

But in all of this it’s truly Osferth who lost the most from Luke being separated from the rest. While he has a solid incredibly loving family, who he truly needs is his mother. For so long they were all one another had. True soulmates in every way. It’s heartbreaking because he’s the one who has to deal with the history lessons in school, the disgusting art and public opinions when it comes to his mom who never wanted more than to live in peace.

[fiora-miriel]

HotD rewatch episode 2

Episode 2: The incident at Dragonstone and the 2nd marriage

Daemon is on Dragonstone for at least the last 6 months. One of the few moments in this whole show where we are given an approximation of the time that has passed

Corlys and Otto in the Small Council. “I caution you Lord Corlys. A seat at the King’s table doesn’t make you his equal.” I know I'm biased but I think Otto thinks his seat makes him a bit mire equaler than Corlys.

Corlys is kind of proud of Rhaenyra for standing up here.

Also Otto and Mellos seem to glance at each other at the SC table??

Why is Rhaenys watching Rhaenyra during the Kingsguard selection?

Alicent encourages Viserys to speak with Rhaenyra which is kind of sweet

Viserys also realizes it is inappropriate what he does with Alicent

The way Alicent tells Rhaenyea that Viserys loves Rhaenyra. Does Alicent feel similarly that Otto really loves her? Is that maybe envy or some longing that Otto is not loving her as Rhaneyra  is loved by Viserys.

“He didn’t choose me. He spurns Daemon” Truer words were never spoken. I get that Viserys is angry but also there seems to be some hidden anger that we are never told

The meeting between Viserys, Corlys and Rhaneys? Viserys doesn’t like their honesty, even though he should à parallel to Daemon’s honesty.

Dinner between Rhaenyra and Viserys. He brushes her ideas aside and doesn’t prepare her?

The talk between Rhaenyra and Rhaenys? Why is it so confrontative? Also why is Rhaenys so bitter? Also why is that wig so weird

Alicent knows what is expected of her. Once again. She is complicit, even though she is also the victim here. Ugh Otto you idiot, you deserve be devoured by a dragon.

The dragonkeepers about the egg: It seems Otto understands at least a bit of High Valyrian?

Otto loves interrupting people at the Small Council and stokes the fire

Corlys is a bit of the mediator? He might have been a good hand?

But also it is hilarious that Lord Beesbury just drinks and is like “o gods what is happening again”

Viserys originally wants to go to Dragonstone himself, but Otto prevents it. Why? Could things have gone quite differently if Viserys had gone himself? Did Daemon want to speak with his brother?

Otto “cannot allow it” with what authority? Doesn’t he overstep here? Daemon is right, Otto is a c*nt

Also Otto being super manipulative. He is chastising and being concerned (fake) about Alicent picking her nails, but also demands that she should visit the kind (where she is clearly reluctant to do so)

Daemon wanted to see Viserys it seems

Otto is kind of an asshole to Daemon. Pretty insulting, even though Daemon is a prince of the realm. Wouldn't that mean he is theoretically higher up the social ladder than Otto?

Mysaria is kind of “wife, me?”

Ser Harold is so over it. Over both Otto and Daemon

Also why is Mellos there? He is useless on such a mission

As soon as Otto hears Caraxes whistles he is scared shitless. No one can convince me otherwise.

And when they hear Syrax, Otto is also “wtf this is not part of the plan” – And Criston is also flabbergasted. Harrold seems more like “Princess not again”.

The little glance Rhaneyra gives Otto? At that point he also seems to be thinking that the princess is either an idiot or another obstacle

After the talk between Mysaria and Daemon, Daemon seems to be a bit… disappointed? Sad?

Viserys meets with Lord Strong for council. Visersys feels threatened by Corlys. And Lord Strong calls Corlys (rightfully) proud. But he could also mention Otto here (fic idea). Strong is in favour of Laena. Strong is very right about Corlys. But also it seems that when Viserys wants impartial council he goes to Strong? I mean, good for him. Strong also warns about the Stepstones and the potential war. Strong indirectly makes the comparison between Corlys and Otto (even though he doesn’t know it). And Otto does not win here.

The sea snake has made a calculated reach. Fair play for a man of his position

Kingsguard comes in and tells Viserys that Rhaenyra went to Dragonstone herself. He doesn’t seem happy. And then she has to

“You are my only heir. You could have been killed.” Boy does Viserys have a bad opinion about Daemon.

And Rhaenyra is right that Otto couldn’t have reclaimed the egg without her

“To know that I’m not alone in my grief” Viserys left Rhaenyra alone. And the man barely reacts to that. Aemma can't have meant that much to him

“I do not wish to make us estranged.” Well not from Rhaenyra, but you estrange yourself from the rest of your family. And also from Rhaenyra

Viserys announcing  Alicent as his wife is still a bit out of the blue. Too much happens off screen here. Also, the fact that he didn’t even tell Rhaenyra? No wonder she is a bit estranged from you.

Diplomacy is also not Viserys’s strength, He could have at least tried to soften the blow for Corlys.

Also Otto is being such an ass in the council scene

Alicent looks miserable.

And the fact that Rhaenyra leaves the same way that Corlys does? Viserys learn to read the room

Love the worldbuilding and Velaryon background we are given

And Daemon and Corlys working together for the Steptones!

But Daemon is so proud. His second son standing is something that grates on him so much I think

“Being King was never my brother’s strongest trait”

Corlys looks at the bigger picture economically. And also at Viserys’s lavish lifestyle. He would have been a benefit for the Smalll Council if only Otto and Viserys would have let him speak more often

“I will speak of my brother as I wish. You will not” Daemon loves Viserys. He would defend him still.

Corlys also knows how to bait Daemon.

Love the foreshadowing of the Stepstones here and the first glances at Cragar

[the-great-bbe]

How about something with Rhaenys/Garlan?

Setting: Regency Era!AU, “I have nothing to give but my heart so full and these empty hands.” “They're not empty now.”

Note: Marei of Oldstones is the Westerosi version of Marie de France, a 12th century poet whose work influenced the Arthurian Cycle. And yes, it was a common pastime for learned ladies to discuss the phallic imagery ever present in medieval romances lolol the tumblr instinct has been around for centuries

--

It begins as simple admiration. He is Margaery’s favorite chaperone, as Willas can’t keep up with her merry chases and Loras enables her chases to become proper misadventures. So he is the one that Mama sends to court when Margaery becomes lady companion to Crown Princess Rhaenys. And what a court it is—Queen Regent Elia rules with grace and glitter, and all the courtiers gossip enough to make dear Grandmama herself lean in. Here Garlan can train with the finest of knights, read from the royal libraries, discuss with like-minded lords and ladies about the progressive new laws that the Queen Regent is putting forward...

And then there is the Princess herself. 

Tall, with rich olive skin and black ringlets cascading down her back. Her face is soft and round, balanced by full lips and large eyes—oh, her eyes! Garlan has never seen such eyes outside of paintings, an impossible shade of black-violet. And when he first sees those eyes, she is smiling at him. He cannot help but smile back.

--

It’s not just that she is beautiful, of course. Her mind is a treasure beyond words. One day she and Grand Maester Tyrion have a three hour long debate about the origins of dragons in the courtyard. Garlan nearly swoons like a green maid to hear the strength of her arguments, the logic she wove like silk in a loom. And even Tyrion concedes defeat to her, as most people end up doing to the Crown Princess. When Rhaenys takes her leave to give her mother company, Garlan bows. “An excellent battle, Your Highness. I’ve never seen a Field of Fire through words alone before and yet we all are blown away.”

“Thank you, Ser Garlan.” She smiles and there’s faint dimples in her cheeks; the sight nearly makes Garlan swoon again! “Care to escort me to the Queen’s apartments?”

Of course. Her hand is a warm weight in the crook of his arm and truly, Garlan is surprised she is not betrothed yet. She is eighteen, of age to take the throne in her own right were it not for her father in the sanitarium on Dragonstone, and easily the loveliest creature on the gods’ green earth. Perhaps she will marry Lord Robb Stark for his bloodline, or Ser Joffrey Baratheon for his riches. Had Willas not eloped with Leonette Fossoway to Braavos he too would’ve been a contender. Grandmama will probably throw the Tarly girls at Garlan, or perhaps a girl from the Riverlands...

“Your eyes seem far away, Ser. Does anything trouble you?”

Garlan shakes himself. “It’s nothing, Your Highness. I’m simply wondering when I shall become an uncle.”

“Yes, I hope my wedding present to your brother Lord Willas and his wife Lady Leonette survived the ship to Essos.” Her gaze flickers away for a moment, then she squeezes his arm. “Join my lady mother and I for tea? Perhaps you can give your perspective on elopement, as my dear brother Aegon intended to run off with Shireen Baratheon in their “doomed romance” when we’d much rather just give them Summerhall.”

--

“Ser Garlan! Do join us!” Rhaenys sits on a large picnic blanket with Marg, a gaggle of other ladies and Rhaenys’s fearsome cat Balerion. Prince Oberyn, Rhaenys’s uncle and practical second father, keeps watch over them and nods at Garlan. They are in the shade of a gigantic plum blossom tree given as a gift from the Emperor of Yi-Ti, and there’s a few petals fallen into her hair. Unthinkingly, Garlan sits by her side and brushes them loose, and he shivers from the feel of her hair between his fingers. Rhaenys asks, “Tell us, have you read the words of Marei of Oldstones?”

“Yes, her poetry influenced the Arthurian Epic did she not?” Epic tales set in the Dawn Age of heroes and fair maidens and wretched monsters. Garlan remembers being still in leading strings, listening to Papa read him and his siblings a passage before bed each night. 

“We were discussing some of the themes in in the Epic and other tales of its kind.” Marg gives him a grin that sends a shiver down his spine. Gods, what is she up to now? “About the imagery of a knight rescuing a princess from a tower. What do you make of it?”

“I...”

Sansa Stark hides a giggle behind her folding fan. “It’s always a giant tower, so very large and impressive.” Then she and little Allyria Dayne dissolve into giggles.

Garlan tugs on his collar. Rhaenys is looking at him expectantly and he can’t ignore his future queen. But really! Marg is still grinning and Garlan narrows his eyes at her. Oh, he’ll get her for this. “It is quite a juxtaposition of imagery. As Lady Sansa said, the tower the knight must handle is always a tall and imposing one. Yet...”

“Yet?”

Garlan prays to the gods for guidance. “Yet the knight must enter the tower. So truly, what function is the imagery in this context?”

Walda Frey—Loras once called her Fat Walda at a feast and she gave him a split lip and a black eye, so now Garlan defers to her as the very best of Waldas—whispers to Marg, “Better than just scaling up and down its walls in its lonesome.”

The ladies giggle and Garlan wants to sink into the floor. Then Rhaenys laughs. “Well put! Thank you for indulging us.” She pauses, then cocks her head and Garlan wonders when the mild spring day got so warmer so quickly. “Indulge us again: do you prefer the sword, or the joust?”

“I prefer handling two swords at once, although I am no green boy when it comes to the joust.” Marg might just choke to death on her stifled giggles and Garlan hopes that she does! But there’s a hint of red to Rhaenys’s ears, and what mild flirtation ever hurt anyone? “At the next tourney, I’ll do my best to impress you.”

“Perhaps I’ll give you my favor as a good luck charm. We can’t have me being unimpressed, can we?”

Indeed, they can not. Garlan would love nothing more for her to admire him, as he admires her.

--

“Your Highness,” Garlan licks his lips, as they are as dry as a Dornish desert. His words catch in his throat. Then Marg in the stands motions at him to continue, Prince Oberyn himself sends him a wink...and he says, “I crown you, Princess Rhaenys, as my Queen of Love and Beauty.”

The crowd erupts into cheers. It was a very hard joust won, as Ser Jaime of the Kingsguard nearly dislocated Garlan’s shoulder and Lord Robb was no one to be trifled with. But at the end he threw even his brother Loras down to the dirt—as if his trick of using a mare would work on Garlan! Not after the tourney at Longtable where Garlan broke his nose!—and won the crown of jonquils and morning glories. They look so beautiful in Rhaenys’s hair, almost as beautiful as Rhaenys herself.

Rhaenys’s reply is nearly lost beneath the deafening roar, but Garlan hears it all too well. “I am honored and delighted to be crowned by such a noble and true knight as you.” And her favor, tied neatly around his arm beneath his armor, seems to catch alight.

He has nothing to offer her, other than this crown of flowers and his hand in the dances to come. He is a second son of a family with many mouths to feed, with no kingly descent or heirloom sword. She shall marry someone worthy to take his place at her side as Prince Consort, and he...he shall content himself with the feeling of her hand in his.

He bows over that lovely hand and kisses her knuckles. 

Later that night, after hours of dancing and feasting and laughing and chasing, he kisses her knuckles again. And again, and again, and again. Until Rhaenys pulls him up from his knees and kisses him with lips as soft as spring and rich as wine. Beneath that plum blossom tree with no one to witness them other than the moon and stars reflecting in her impossibly beautiful eyes, no other sound than their shared breath against each other’s lips and Garlan whispering “I think I’m in love with you.”

He kisses her before she can tell him they cannot be. He cannot bear it.

--

“Do you love my daughter, Ser Garlan?”

Garlan can hardly breathe before the presence of the Queen Regent Elia Martell. So much of Rhaenys’s bold beauty is from her mother, and the Queen Regent has decades of power behind her piercing gaze. But he is no liar. He jerks a nod. “With all my life, Your Majesty.”

She nods, as if it were a foregone conclusion. She is not wrong in that, as the entirety of Kings Landing must know that Garlan would gladly die for Rhaenys, and live for her as well. Even Papa knows, and Papa hardly knows anything! After an eternity of being sized up and raked over the coals of the Queen Regent’s eyes, she sighs. “You are not my first choice, but you are not my last. If my daughter consents to it, I give my blessing to officially court her.”

Truly? Truly?! Garlan gapes like an idiot, or perhaps some ill-bred fish. And the Queen Regent laughs; she sounds so much like Rhaenys. “I encourage you not to make that same face when you ask for her permission.”

Garlan, after bowing and scraping as much as he can without fainting, eventually leaves the royal solar. Marg immediately tackles him and cackles that her hopes have gone swimmingly, and her best friend shall be her sister. Then she pulls him along to gods know where while Garlan’s head reels.

He? To court Rhaenys? To hold her hand in his and not let it go? Garlan’s knees nearly give out, especially when Willas and Loras both clap their hands on his shoulders. “Grandmama will finally be proud of us, I think,” Loras boasts.

“Her Highness has not even consented yet!”

Marg rolls her eyes “Garlan, I love you, but you are as thick as molasses. Now go confess your love to her!” She practically shoves him towards Rhaenys’s plum blossom tree. “And kiss her! With tongue!”

He stumbles into the tree and nearly into Balerion. The cat blinks up at him to say he is a fool, then slinks away to a laughing Aegon’s arms. “Ser Garlan! Are you alright?”

“Y-Your Highness, I...” Garlan peeks around the tree to see Rhaenys on the other side, standing with something hiding behind her back. She catches his questioning gaze, and flushes a pretty red before revealing a knitted scarf. “For your brother, my princess?”

“For you, actually.” She bites her bottom lip before puffing herself up. “I intend to ask my lady mother the Queen Regent if we would be allowed to court. With your consent of course! I would never presume that you would wish to—”

“I was just given permission by Her Majesty to ask for your permission.”

They stare at each other for a moment, before Rhaenys giggles into her palm. Garlan melts, and finally asks, “Would you like me to court you, Your Highness?”

“Yes.” She presses the scarf into his hands, and leans up to murmur in his ear, “And please, call me Rhaenys.”

He shivers. “Rhaenys.” All is right with the world it seems, just from the sound of her name on his lips.

--

Garlan smiles despite the tears in his eyes. “Rhaenys, are you sure? I have nothing to give but my heart so full and these empty hands.” 

“They're not empty now.” Rhaenys squeezes their hands together.

Then she cloaks him in her house colors, and Garlan is hers, hers forever and always, just as he was always meant to be.

[dwellordream]

I'm loving all this great discussion you've got going on about Rhaenyra Targaryen. How would you have preferred GRRM to have written her? What could have given her greater nuance and made her less "total hot mess" and more "nuanced and possibly tragic antiheroine"? Thanks for your generosity in answering all of these questions!

Thank you so much! I hope I’m not annoying people with my constant complaints about Fire and Blood haha.  Just as a whole I think Fire & Blood would have benefitted as being a series of interwoven novellas, not a mock-medieval-history of the past 300 years of Westeros. GRRM’s greatest talent as a writer, imo, is in how he develops characters as nuanced and realistic people with understandable ambitions and fears through their own perspectives. That’s lost out on in F&B. Occasionally it breaks into more ‘novel-like’ scene descriptions, but overall it’s supposed to read as a dry historical text, only it’s an often contradictory, absurdly biased, all over the place, relying on shock value dry historical text. I get that part of the whole idea was to present various viewpoints of certain characters and events and ‘leave it up to the reader to decide’ who they were inclined to believe, but really it’s just more of a vehicle for misogyny than anything else, since we exclusively get the viewpoints of a couple of very sexist maesters and... Mushroom. Yay.  Okay for example if I was going to handle Rhaenyra’s character while still hitting the basic plot points of her story (and this is not me saying I think I’m a better writer than GRRM or that I ‘know his characters better’, it’s just my personal interpretation), I think my goal would be to humanize her to the audience of readers while not shying away from her darker moments. She’s supposed to be controversial and provocative. However that doesn’t mean she has to be totally 2-dimensional or such a hot mess. I think I would start by emphasizing Rhaenyra’s position for the first 10 years of her life. She is the coddled, cossetted, and beloved only child of Viserys and his adored wife Aemma. She has never had a sibling, she’s never had to share any attention, her parents dote on her, as does all the court. Of course she is going to be spoilt, high-maintenance, proud, and temperamental when she doesn’t get her way. However, Rhaenyra is not just a bratty princess stereotype (or, she doesn’t have to be). She is also an extremely brave and determined little girl. She is extroverted; she likes socializing and being around people, she’s confident and assertive and used to having her voice heard. At the age of seven, she single-handedly tames and bonds with a young dragon. That is an extremely impressive feat for a child. You can’t argue, bully, or demand your way into riding a dragon, a wild beast. Rhaenyra had to show some serious grit and tenacity to do that at such a young age, so she’s not just this puffed up little fragile flower who wails when she doesn’t get her way. Rhaenyra also has a great relationship with her father. He doesn’t seem to hold the fact that she is his only child and a daughter against her; he praises and shows her off in front of his court, he makes sure she is always by his side. Rhaenyra is used to being honored before everyone. She is her father’s cupbearer, she is present while he holds court, she is exposed to a high level of adult political interactions and basic courtesies. She’s probably pretty bright for her age, and has a keen understanding of who is who and what everyone at court’s relations to one another are. She’s not been kept locked up in a nursery playing with toys, she is seen as an active member of court and her father’s little shadow. She also likely has a very good relationship with her mother Aemma. Rhaenyra is Aemma’s pride and joy, her sole surviving child after the trauma of a very young marriage and multiple miscarriages and stillbirths. Aemma has no close siblings of her own, and never knew her own mother Daella; no doubt she prizes her relationship with Rhaenyra and hopes Rhaenyra does not experience what she did as a little girl, growing up without a mother and only much-older half siblings in the Vale.  Then there is her Uncle Daemon. Daemon is the ‘fun’ relative little kids adore. He doesn’t treat Rhaenyra like a child, he doesn’t condescend to her, he brings her back all sorts of exciting and interesting toys and gifts, he takes time out of his day to spend with her, he takes her on outings and makes her feel special and loved. He’s not always busy with the mundane aspects of ruling that her father likely is, he’s not caught up with his own wife and children, he has all sorts of wild tales of adventure and mystery. It’s easy to see why Rhaenyra loves him so.  Then Aemma dies. No doubt this is a horrible shock to Rhaenyra. She’s a little girl, just eight years old. She’s not necessarily that familiar with the harsh realities of pregnancy and childbirth, she just knew she was getting a little brother or sister, and now her mother is gone, just like that. Aemma died during the birth. Rhaenyra never got to say goodbye, and her little brother dies a day later, compounding the grief and horror. Her father is heartbroken and reeling, and her favorite uncle is out drinking and whoring.  But Rhaenyra is named her father’s heir. Her mom might be gone, but her dad still loves her, and he loves her so much, in her eyes, that he is willing to buck the precedent that set him on the throne (passing over Rhaenys) in order to name her his heir. She’s Princess of Dragonstone; a whole island! Despite her grief and rage over her mother being ripped away from her, this is probably thrilling for a little girl. She’s going to be queen one day. Everyone loves her and wants her to be happy. She’s going to be the first Targaryen queen in her own right. Doesn’t that make her special and chosen? Then a year later her father remarries. Rhaenyra likely isn’t happy about this; her mother has only been dead a year!- but she is willing to try to get along with her new stepmother, Alicent, who probably seems like less of a mother and more of an older sister figure, just a teenaged girl of 18. Alicent is smart and pretty and Rhaenyra remembers her from court as a very small girl. Her father is Rhaenyra’s father’s Hand, someone Rhaenyra probably knows well, maybe even considers almost family, having grown up seeing him all the time, exchanging gifts at holidays and birthdays, attending tourneys with his family, etc. Then Alicent gets pregnant, something 9 year old Rhaenyra probably wasn’t really thinking about. She has a son, and people are saying he will be king, that her claim doesn’t matter. Then Alicent has another son. She doesn’t have time for Rhaenyra anymore. She’s not Rhaenyra’s mother. She has her own sons, and Aegon will be king, even though it’s not fair, even though Father promised she would be queen, even though Mother is dead and never coming back.  These are three major events happening in short succession in the life of a precocious little girl.  Rhaenyra likely feels hurt and confused and angry. Sure, her father hasn’t officially declared Aegon as his heir, but Alicent and her father are pushing it, people Rhaenyra thought she could trust. Who is she supposed to rely on now? Well, there’s Uncle Daemon, who suddenly seems like less of the fun uncle, almost like a big brother, and more of.. something else. He doesn’t treat her like a little girl anymore, he calls her beautiful and encourages her to show off her good looks and charm, assures her that regardless of what her father says or does, he will always care for her. She can count on him! And Ser Criston Cole, her longtime crush- well, he just sees her as that spoilt little girl. She’s growing up! She’s not a child anymore but he just doesn’t get it. She’s certain he feels the same way about her, that he loves her back, but his vows and white cloak are in the way, and he won’t stop seeing her as the little princess, not a girl of sixteen, a woman grown! She doesn’t have a mom to talk to this stuff about, but there is Uncle Daemon, and he knows pretty much everything about love and seduction; that’s why there’s all those wild tales about him. If she asks him to help her show Criston that she’s a woman now and wants to be treated as such, he wouldn’t turn her down, would he? Besides, he treats her like a grownup. He thinks she’d be an amazing queen. Father and him fight all the time, but Father’s blinded by his love for Alicent- she’s manipulating him! Uncle Daemon gives her advice, and she tries to impress Criston, but it backfires. He leaves her feeling humiliated and rejected. It’s not fair, she’s the princess, she’s supposed to be good at everything, but he acted like she was wrong to try to show him how much she cares and wants to be with him! Now he won’t talk to her anymore, and Father is sending Uncle Daemon, who seems like her one true friend, away from court because of some stupid rumors that he ‘deflowered her’. Alicent is saying she should be married to Aegon, her half-brother who she can’t stand; he’s a spoilt little creep, always groping servant girls and kissing up to their father. Dragonstone seems like the escape she needs from all of this, but Father is threatening to strip it from her unless she marries Laenor- Laenor who she knows isn’t even into women! They’re not even close friends. He doesn’t want to marry her anymore than she wants to marry him, only their fathers are insisting on it. Daemon’s gone and she has no idea when he’s coming back, and Harwin is sweet and says he loves her, but he would have never been accepted as her husband. Still, at least he’ll never leave her or turn on her, the way everyone else has. And that is basically how I would cover Rhaenyra’s childhood and adolescence in a way that I think at least gives her some understandable motivations, some nuance, and some real emotion beyond ‘she threw a fit when she didn’t get her way’.

[aegor-bamfsteel]

Hello! I’m a big fan of your blog and I’ve got a question for you. Consider an AU where Daemon Blackfyre is born from Aegon IV having an affair with Rhaena rather than Daena, how do you think he’d turn out? I’m curious on your thoughts as to how having a different parentage might change Daemon.

Hello! I’m glad you’re enjoying reading my blog :) 

The scenario you propose is one I haven’t thought of because Rhaena is far and away the least developed of the Targaryen characters of her generation. I’m not going to say “she would never have an affair” because as it stands most of the information on her is from semi- or non-canon sources: the 2006 SSM and the MUSH RPG tree that reveals she was the sister Daeron I betrothed to the Sealord of Braavos. She gets about one and a half sentences to herself in The World of Ice and Fire, which itself contradicts some of the information in the SSM: the SSM states that she never chafed at her confinement whereas twoiaf says she protested Baelor’s Maidenvault along with her sisters; depending on which one is true (for obvious reasons, I prefer the universe where she doesn’t agree with being imprisoned for a decade), leads to vastly different interpretations of the character. We know more about Rhaena’s breast size (that they were fuller than Daena’s at 14; thanks a lot, George) than her interactions with her siblings and cousins. All we know for sure is that she was pious and became a septa later in life.

The question is then whether Rhaena would still become a septa if she had a child, or be like Elaena and have to leave him behind (it’s nearly impossible from what we know about illegitimate children of noblewomen that Elaena brought Jon and Jeyne Waters with her to Plumm lands). If Rhaena did become a septa soon after Daemon’s birth and Aegon’s ascension, and left him as a baby to be raised by Daena (as I think might’ve happened with the Waters twins), then perhaps not much would change: Daemon is still raised mostly by the Targaryen-loving Daena, who probably encouraged his athletic pursuits, and spends time training with master-at-arms and Aegon IV’s ally, Quentyn Ball.

Daemon might’ve felt unloved by Rhaena in the “why didn’t she stay with me?” sense that some of the illegitimate children feel in asoiaf (thinking about Jon Snow’s fantasies of his “beautiful, highborn, kind-eyed” mother, and he had a decently happy childhood in Winterfell). Since in canon Baelor starved himself to death "in penance” for Daena’s child, switching the sister to Rhaena could have devastating psychological effects for the both of them, since the SSM implies she and Baelor were close (that her piety was influenced by Baelor, and even twoiaf compares her piety to his); a plausible scenario could be Rhaena joining a motherhouse and leaving her child as a form of penance, as she blames herself for Baelor’s death. 

Without Daena’s loving act of self-sacrifice by refusing to name the father at the cost of her reputation, and instead an absent mother mourning the death of her jailer “Baelor the Beloved”, Daemon might’ve even felt unwanted despite Daena’s best efforts (again, thinking of Jon Snow, who still internalized the “bastard prejudices” despite having a loving father and half-siblings). So perhaps a Daemon-son-of-absentee Rhaena is a little sadder, more jaded from early childhood, and less willing to get hurt reaching out to abrasive family members (by which I mean Aegor and Brynden Rivers).

But supposing Rhaena does put off becoming a septa to raise her son (and you could argue that sewing the Mother’s face on her clothing indicates that, like Aelinor Penrose, she did want children) and successfully opposes Viserys and Aegon’s attempts to marry her off (as Daena did. GRRM’s SSM says Rhaena was “meek and passive”, but I’m going with the twoiaf version that stands up for her freedom). Considering what happened to Falena Stokeworth at Viserys II’s hands for daring to have sex with Aegon IV, I’ll assume that she refuses to name Aegon IV as the father. 

A Daemon raised by Rhaena at King’s Landing would perhaps be more openly interested in fashion; Rhaena loved to sew and embroider, and I could see him taking an interest in this because his mother was and encouraged him. We’re not sure how pious Daemon was in canon (although according to his supporters, he was blessed by the Seven), but as Rhaena’s child he might be more so, and might’ve wanted to serve the Warrior’s Sons instead of the Kingsguard as a boy. It might even be possible that as in the real-life example of Princess Rotrude daughter of Charlemagne and her illegitimate son Louis, that he could’ve followed Rhaena into the Faith and become part of a guard for a particularly high-ranking Septon. 

However, I don’t think this Daemon’s new interests would have made Aegon stop being interested in him, especially after Aegor and Brynden proved to be “unsuitable heirs”; and I don’t think they would’ve endeared the grudge-prone Da3ron II to him either. So I don’t think their schemes regarding Daemon would’ve changed.

What I think the most important change in Daemon’s character would be having Rhaena as a mother is that he’s introduced earlier on to the Targaryen legacy is not a shining ideal to protect. Rhaena is the only known Targaryen to have abandoned their name for a higher calling by choice, rather than being given to the Faith or Citadel by her parents or married off (although they technically are still part of the Targaryen House) or forced to run away. Most of the Targaryen women are proud to be born of the house of “fire and blood” and dragons, but unlike Daena and even Elaena, Rhaena did not have any explicit connection to that legacy. Daemon knowing that his mother could’ve become a septa and give up her name, seeing her honoring the Mother and the Maiden over Rhaenys and Visenya, having her tell him tales of the Warriors’ Sons over those of brave Targaryen warriors, would have radically changed his idea of who the Targaryens are. With that he might be more open to criticism of Targaryen brutality and egotism, at least with regards to burning septs and trying to rewrite the laws of the Faith to suit their own ends (Jaehaerys and the Doctrine of Exceptionalism allowing incest, Baelor’s misogynist laws on chastity and moving the Faith’s capital to King’s Landing where they became a tool of the Targaryens). That might result in a Daemon that doesn’t hold onto Blackfyre and his sigil as symbols of identity and strength, but the chivalric code and Faith precepts. That might have serious political implications if the reason why he rebelled (if rebel he did, and wasn’t just arrested based on a rumor) had something to do with Aegon IV and Da3ron II making a mockery of the Targaryen legacy as related to him by Daena.

tl;dr depending on whether or not Rhaena was there to raise him, I think were she his mother Daemon may have been more wary of the Targaryens as a family and his place among them as an illegitimate prince. He may have cultivated different interests that Rhaena encouraged, and might have been more outwardly serious and guarded at court. Whether that meant he’d be less popular or less effective in combat is anyone’s guess, but I don’t think Aegon’s plans and Da3ron II’s counter-plans for him would’ve changed much.

[onthesandsofdreams]

An Ambush Of The Softest Kind

Fandom: ASoIaF Ratings: G Pairing: Visenya x Torrhen Words: 1220 Notes: For @moonlightwhisperatnight, who kindly requested it. Sorry it took so long. This fic is based on a pair of fics of mine: A Crown Exchanged, Twins & Names.

Read @ AO3

Spring in the North was… something. Visenya had been married to Torrhen for a decade now and she was still getting used to the summer snows. Her first summer as Lady of Winterfell, it had surprised her. Torrhen had laughed and said that was simply life in the North, that she wouldn’t be cold inside nor would she ever lack the furs to cover herself should she need them.

Torrhen… he was a pleasant surprise. At first, Visenya did not know what to expect from this man. Torrhen had knelt and accepted not only Aegon, but Rhaenys and herself as his King and Queens, not a single Northen sword gave shape to Aegon’s throne. And Torrhen did not expect her to change, he did not frown upon her wearing chain mail and wielding a sword; he did not say that he’d prefer her in soft silks. He took her as she was, even with her sometimes dark temper. He also did not fear Vhagar. ‘She’s yours,’ he said. ‘I trust your control on your dragon.’

Two years into her marriage, Visenya had given birth to twins. Brandon and Valaena were a surprise; one that she felt out of her comfort zone, but she did the best she could and there was no mistaking that Torrhen loved their children. In Visenya’s opinion, he spoiled them. But something had thawed in her heart enough to bear another child, who at present was only three winters and loved to chase his siblings about in Winterfell. They had named the boy Edric. Brandon had offered to name the boy in honor of Rhaenys, but Visenya declined, let Rhaenys’ children name their own after their mother.

Visenya finds herself back in Winterfell. Flying back and forth between Aegon’s Fort and the North is quite the task, but she doesn’t mind it much. Aegon doesn’t tolerate her much these days without Rhaenys and Visenya prefers the feeling of being wanted. So here she is, home.

It took awhile for Winterfell to feel like home, but now, Visenya happily calls it that. She’s not one for sentimental displays, but she feels comfortable and welcomed; Torrhen makes her feel wanted. The children she bore now play, laugh and train under their watchful eyes. Her life has changed and she doesn’t mind. Here in Winterfell, she’s not Aegon’s unwanted sister, she’s the Lady of Winterfell, mother of wolves, fierce warrior and proud mistress of the North.

Today, Visenya finds that she can’t quite find Torrhen. Her older children are missing too, so she walks around, looking for them. Edric on her hip, she wonders around Winterfell. Visenya knows that Valaena and Brandon should be taking their lessons, so she makes her way to the library. The Maester doesn’t know where they are, they failed to show to their lessons and Visenya simply arches her eyebrow and promises that it won’t happen again.

Visenya makes her way towards the entrance, perhaps she will find her husband on the Godswoods. She’s close to enough to fill the chill of the air, when it happens. She spots Torrhen, completely mud covered making his way towards her. There’s a grin on his face and for all his muck, he’s in good humor.

“And what,” Visenya asks, arching an eyebrow and staring at her husband. “Has you in such a mood, despite you being all dirty?”

Torrhen lets out a happy laugh, but doesn’t touch her. It’s one thing getting dirty on battle for Visenya, quite another to get all mud covered for no reason. Edric giggles. “The kids, they ambushed me.”

Visenya simply stands there befuddled, then shakes her head and lifts Edric higher. “And…?”

“They wanted to play,” Torrhen shrugs his shoulders. “It’s summer and the snow is not as deep, they tackled me down to the ground. Valaena will take after you, that girl is a fighter and she will simply knock someone down if given the chance. Brandon is not far behind, those two make a terrific team. And I paid the price.”

“And where are the children now?”

“In the crypts with Brandon. They wanted to see it, and Brandon wanted to show them the resting place of our ancestor Theon.”

���They missed their lessons today.” Visenya glares, but Torrhen is unfazed by her glare by now. “And that won’t do.”

“They’re children, Visenya.” Torrhen frowns. “Let them skip a lesson or two, they’re good children, they will listen and tend to their duties better if we let them be children for a bit. They’ll be grown soon enough.”

“Fine,” Visenya sighs. “Only today, tomorrow there will be no skipping lessons. I will not have them be neglectful of their education or training. Now, go and take a bath, you’re positively covered in mud. I still can’t believe how quick snow turns into water and mud during summer.”

“Perils of the North,” Torrhen laughs freely and without any care. “Now, I will be taking a bath, it could hardly do the Lord of Winterfell to spend his day covered in mud, as my lady wife has so kindly pointed out.”

Visenya gives Torrhen a questioning look. “I assume the children are muddy too?”

“Yes, but not to worry! I told my brother to bring them in so they could bathe after the crypts. I knew you wouldn’t approve of muddy children.”

“Well then, since you have taken care of that, let us go inside. I trust Brandon to bring the children in. Come now husband, you need a bath.”

“As my Queen commands.”

Much later, after three very muddied Starks had bathed, and Visenya was helping Valaena to braid her hair before bed, that she stopped and placed her hands on her daughter’s shoulders.

“Mama?” Valaena asked once Visenya had stopped and turned to look at her mother.

“Your father said that you brought him down today,” Visenya’s lips twitched upwards. 

“Aye! I did, grabbed him by the knees and Bran tackled him and papa fell.” Valaena was proud and Visenya’s lips curled gently upwards.

“Well done little dragon. And always remember that Valaena, your name might be Stark, but you carry my blood in you and you are twice a fearsome beast.”

“Yes, mama.”

Valaena went to bed and Visenya left the room, making her way to the chamber she shared with Torrhen, she couldn’t help but to think how nice it was. Having a family and being wanted. Something she had never seen herself having, she was a warrior first and foremost; she knew of her duties, but what she had found here in the North had made her see that, warrior, conqueror and queen were much more delightful with love. Rhaenys had always been the romantic one, she was the one who wanted the family, love and all of the other things ladies were taught and encouraged to want; but Visenya had found her own. And while she was still not very emotive, nor comfortable with public displays of affection, she was content with what she had found and the family she had given herself permission to create. And it startled her to realize that it wasn’t only Torrhen who had been ambushed. She had been too. Life had ambushed her one of the softest ways and Visenya found that she couldn’t complain. She was home.

[forme-iwrite]

Elia Martell: Ladies in waiting

part 2/2: North

I believe Elia was trying to have at least one companion from each of the regions in Westeros. I also believe that the ladies had to be connected to important and powerful houses if they were planning to take the throne from Aerys. We know two of Queen Rhaella ladies, Joanna Lannister and the Princess Of Dorne, who are both in a sense rulers of their regions. From the ladies Margaery has and the two Rhaella is known to have we can assume that the companions can vary in ages and don’t have to be the same age as Elia. If Elia had lived longer she would have added more prominent ladies or switched some. She might have asked Catelyn Tully who was betrothed to the heir of the North and who was the Lady of Riverrun until she married Ned, so she had a lot of power over the Riverlands because her father Hoster was the Warden of the land. She might have also considered Lysa Tully and Lyanna Stark. Lyanna might have been considered because of her betrothal to Robert Baratheon the lord paramount of the Stormlands and being the daughter of Lord Stark the ruler in the North, though after what happened in Harrenhal I doubt Elia would ask her. She might have also asked Cersei after a while though I doubt her or Tywin would accept, them being too proud and Jamie being a kingsguard. This is just my personal list of ladies for Elia. Which I wanted to give names and backgrounds to. 

Jeyne Darry

Riverlands: The Darry

She is from a prominent house in the riverlands. They were said to be a powerful house before Robert's rebellion. It is also stated they were very loyal to the Targaryens, even now they still have portraits of the Targaryens hanging in their castle. Willem and Jonothor Darry were in service at the Red keep, one being a kingsguard the other master-at-arms, both had a good relationship with Rhaegar. Her sister Mariya is married to Merrett Frey, the ninth son of Lord Walder Frey. She was also either soon betrothed (more likely) or married to Cleos Frey when Elia asked her to be one of her ladies. This is important because it ties her to the Freys and the Lannisters (Cleos being Genna’s son) giving Elia access to two strong houses.

I believe she was born in or around 268A.C. due to Cleos age and her kids age.

Personal headcanon: She came to the Red keep when she was eight because her mother passed away and she was left in the care of her uncle Willem. Mariya being older was already married and did not want to be left in charge, besides I doubt Walder Frey would allow it, he was trying to get rid of kids not bring more in. She was ten/eleven when Elia met her and asked her to be one of her ladies. She liked using a spear and dagger, and she was well skilled, due to the fact that both of her uncles were incredible fighters (How else are they a kingsguard and master-at-arms). Elia grows to think of her as a little sister, something that started because of Jeynes preference in the dornish weapons. Elia had a hand in Cleos being the Frey she is betrothed to, though she makes it seem like it was Mariya's idea.

Leyla Hightower

The Reach: Oldtown

She is from the oldest house in the Reach. The Hightowers are a prominent and powerful house. Her sister Alerie is married to the heir of Highgarden Mace Tyrell. We know Rhaegar and Aerys were at odds and Rhaegar was planning some way to take the crown. She would be useful in sending letters between Rhaegar/Elia and those houses without causing suspicion. The Reach was loyal to the Targaryens during the rebellion. Leyla could be one of the reasons the stayed loyal until the “bitter end” according to Kevan Lannister. Elia met Leyla when she was on her betrothal trip in 273A.C. Oldtown is a major port and has the citadel something that would interest both Elia and Rhaegar. Her great uncle was Gerold Hightower the lord commander of the Kingsguard.

I place her birth in or around 267A.C because she is Lord Leytons sixth child and I personally place Baelor around 256A.C. Also Leyton has had four wives.

Personal headcanon: Leyla is a bookworm like her father and it is something both her and Elia share. She is the only child born from her mother, Leytons second wife. Her mother is not from the seven kingdoms but was born somewhere in Essos. Elia was originally going to ask Alerie to be one of her ladies because of her stronger influence on the Reach but Willas and Garlan were both still too young to be without a mother by their side according to Elia (Elias own mother having been a lady to Rhaella and not spending a lot of time with her children). Elia becomes very fond of Leyla. Ashara Dayne and Leyla do not get along due to their house history.

Shyra Errol

Stormlands: Haystack Hall

Comes from a prominent house in the stormlands. As far as we know she inherited Haystack Hall so either her brothers died or she didn't have any, so she was an heir or lady to an important house (she also kept her name over her husbands). She is one of the few ladies we know in the stormlands with a name and she was alive during Robert's rebellion. After Robert dies she does not choose to remain loyal to his son the new king (nobody knows that he's Jaimes yet) but declares for Renly. Her loyalty does not lay with the Lannisters or Robert and maybe it's because she was one of Elias ladies. Renly was too young to blame for what Robert did during the sack in king's landing.

I do not have a year of birth for her but I believe she was significantly older than Elia. She has a son who is a knight, so he was at least fifteen, and she implied to have passed away during the parley at the walls of Storm’s End in “A Clash of Kings”. I personally believe it might be due to old age. Maybe around 238 A.C.

Personal headcanon: Shyra is a great at needle work and loves making dresses. Her and Elia are not extremely close due to their age gap but she does give her great advice when she thinks she needs it. When Rhaenys is born Shyra makes her a beautiful blanket that has a dragon circling a large sun. She is also really glad that Nymella Toland brought her daughters to court because now her son Sebastian will have playmates. She also makes a blanket for Aegon and gets really mad at Rhaegar when he leaves so soon after Aegon's birth.

Darlessa Marbrand

Westerlands: Ashemark/Casterly Rock

House Marbrand is one of the main noble houses in the West. She is married to Tygett Lannister brother to the Warden of the West. She is also related to the Lannisters because their mother was a Marbrand. Elia probably knew about Tywin’s plan to marry Cersei to the Targaryens and wanted to have leverage against him incase he decided to do something extreme. According to Genna, Tygett had a rivalry with Tywin and probably encouraged his wife to accept Elias offer, seeing it as an upper hand with the royal family that Tywin seemed to be losing. It might also explain why Tywin did not immediately side with the rebels. Though I know he was probably also waiting to see who had a better chance of winning the war. It would also explain why he came into kings landing under a peace banner, so they could safely get to Darlessa and any other highborns without Aerys harming them.

She was probably born at latest in 273 A.C because her son Tyrek was born in 286 A.C and she would at least need to be 13. I personally believe she was born around 251 A.C. I do not like the idea of her having a kid that young and 251 makes her around the same age as her husband who was born in 250 A.C.

Personal headcanon: She is very proud as most of the ladies of the West seem to be but she also has a humorous side. While Tywin is still hand and has Cersei in the Red Keep she divides her time between Elia and her. She loves her husband dearly because he is more kind hearted then his older brothers and doesn’t mind showing affection. She likes watching Tygett practice in the training yard and Elia and the rest of the ladies usually join her and place bets and gossip. She is only five years older than Elia and they don't have the greatest relationship at first, Elia thinks Darlessa has a stick up her butt, but once they move their court to Dragonstone Darlessa becomes more carefree. She refuses to talk to her husband after the sack of king's landing when she finds out what happens to Elia and the children, and it takes even longer before she can even look at Tywin.

Rhonda Rowan

The Reach: Goldengrove

The Rowans are one of the oldest and most prominent houses in the reach. They control the Reach’s north border so they are also very powerful and could have chosen to remain neutral like Tywin. They also chose to go against Joffrey. Though it is stated that the current lord of Goldengrove is very loyal to his liege lord. I believe that Shyra is his sister because the daughter he is said to have seems to young to have been alive during Robert's rebellion or way to young to be one of Elia’s ladies. Again like Shyra she is one of the few ladies in the Reach who is given a name and is alive during that time. Also I am just trying to find possible ladies for Elia, I know some might be a stretch.

I place her birth in 257A.C because she is married to Baelor hightower who I place around 256A.C. This also makes her the same age as Elia.

Personal headcanon: Rhonda likes to garden and had a little one at Goldengrove. When they move to Dragonstone she helps Elia fix Aegon’s garden since the castellan had neglected it. She is also loves books and gets along with Leyla. Elia helps set up her betrothal to Baelor, who she still writes letters to.

The following ladies are not characters that are stated in asoiaf but their is a possibility that they might have existed. The Lords Velaryon and Gafton are stated and might have had daughters or sisters or wives. These characters also give reason as to why one of their relatives might have been a lady to Elia.

“Elaena” Velaryon

Dragonstone: Driftmark

We know that the Lord of Driftmark during Aery’s reign was Lucerys Velaryon. Lucerys was master of ships and was probably in Aery’s court in king’s landing. Since not much is stated about Lucerys and his family or what happened to them after Robert’s Rebellion I gave him a daughter. It is stated that Lucerys was a big supporter of Aerys over Rhaegar. Elia could have asked “Elaena” to be one of her ladies to keep him from doing anything too drastic towards Rhaegar's position as heir. Also Driftmark and house Velaryon are prominent and wealthy. They are also the closest house to Dragonstone and they also come from valyrian descent.

“Elaena” Velaryon is a character of my making so I can make her any age I choose. I choose to place her birth around 269A.C, because she would still be too young to be betrothed or married and it's the age the westerosi start fostering their kids, making it harder for Lucerys to say no to Elia’s invitation. Also what offer is better than being in the company of the future queen.

Personal headcanon: “Elaena” is very close to both Jeyne and Leyla due to them all being around the same age. Being born on an island she is a very good swimmer and loves going to the beach in Dragonstone and collecting shells. When Elia falls pregnant she goes and looks for rare shells and brings them to her as a gift. She claims to have seen a seahorse which neither Jeyne nor Leyla believe. Out of all the northern ladies she is the most excited when Elia takes them to Dorne. She whispers to Elia that she loves her and is glad she choose her as a lady in waiting when Elia gives in and takes her to the pools in the Water Gardens though she is a year or two older than the kids playing in the pools. ( Areo Hotah says the smallest child is 5 and the oldest 10 in one of his chapters). She stays in Dragonstone when Elia is called back to King’s landing and is there for the birth of Daenerys. It is said the Targaryen fleet was in Dragonstone during Danys birth, so Lucerys being master of ships was probably there with his daughter.

“Alys” Grafton

Vale of Arryn: Gulltown

House Gafton is a noble house in the Vale. They rule a main port and big city so they are probably also wealthy. Marq Grafton was Lord of Gulltown during the time of Aerys II. When Jon Arryn called his banners Marq remained loyal to Aerys. This might be because he believed in Rhaegar/Aerys or because he had a wife in service to Elia. He tried to stop Jon from leaving the Vale but was killed by Robert Baratheon. He is the only lord in the Vale who we know of that remained loyal to Aerys. “Alys” would be an option because I believe Elia was trying to have someone from all the regions in Westeros and “Alys” is someone who would have been alive during Robert's Rebellion and belonged to a powerful house in the Vale.

I do not a specific age for her though I imagine she was slightly older than Elia but still considered young because I think Marq was young and impulsive and that is why he decided it would be a good idea to try to stop Jon Arryn without much help. Maybe 252A.C making her only five years older than Elia and around 31 during the rebellion.

Personal headcanon: “Alys” is one of the few ladies who actually prefers King’s landing over Dragonstone because she is used to living in a city. She loves to gossip which gets her in trouble a lot. She prefers cold weather and hates the heat in Dorne. She likes going to the Ships and hearing the stories the sailors tell, and likes retelling them to Rhaenys and the rest of the children at court.

“Melisa” Whent

Riverlands: Harrenhal

We know that during the tourney at Harrenhal Lord Walter Whent and Lady Shaella had a daughter who was considered a fair maid. It is speculated that Rhaegar provided the money for the tourney so it can be assumed that Walter knew about Rhaegar's plan to remove Aerys from the throne and supported Rhaegar. House Whent was a Targaryen ally. Oswell Whent was a Kingsguard to Aerys. “Melisa” was probably made one of Elia’s ladies as a thank you for their support. They could clearly be trusted by Rhaegar/Elia in such a big plan.

“Melisa” is considered a fair maid so she is at least thirteen at the time of the tourney.  I am going to make her fifteen so it would place her birth around 266 A.C

Personal headcanon: “Melisa” wasn't made one of Elia’s companions until after the tourney. She has red hair as most Whents are known to have. She and Elia share the same sense of humor and when “Melisa” finds something hilarious her face turns as red as her hair. She is surprised to find how small all the castles are compared to Harrenhal. It takes her a while to bond with the other ladies because most of them have been with Elia since she came to King’s Landing. She develops a crush on one of the dornish knights in Elia’s service, Myria Jordayne finds it amusing and teases “Melisa” about it.

[missglaskin]

I’m rewatching House Of The Dragon and when watching episode 7, I suddenly thought what would happen if instead of Aemond taking Vhagar, the reader in your yandere House Of The Dragon did?

I think it would change a lot but I wondered did u have any thoughts on this?

So obviously this is going to change a lot of things. As for one Aemond taking Vhagar was the chain of events that led to the loss of his eye. But we will pretend that it happens either way in different circumstances. So vack to my main point. 

The reader claiming Vhagar will certainly bring out all sorts of reactions. There is obviously most of the characters surprised that the reader could pull such a thing as assuming she doesn’t have the blood of old Valyria. I could see the Targaryens using this moment as proof that the reader is one of them. 

Viserys while slightly worried given Vhagar’s size, he’s so proud of the reader. It still doesn’t stop his mini heart attacks when he sees the reader riding Vhagar. Daemon is also proud of the reader and you can ensure the two will be seen up in the wide sky racing one another. It also makes him a bit emotional considering how both his father and wife claimed her as well. Rhaenyra reacts similarly to Daemon though I see her missing the times you were dragonless. As it meant you would ride with her on Syrax. 

Corlys and Rhaenys are proud as well. Though Rhaenys like Rhaenyra will miss the times you would ride on Meleys with her. She’s also is a bit emotional considering how Laena claimed the dragon before you. 

When it comes to Alicent and Otto. They express their support but they are also very worried for your safety. Otto is a bit frustrated with you claiming Vhagar as it’ll be much harder for him to ensure your stay in king’s landing. 

The majority of the children are happy to see you claim a dragon. While Rhaena wished to claim the dragon before you, she still expresses her joy. In her eyes, as long as it’s you, then that’s all that matters. Aemond is the tricky one, he too had plans to claim Vhagar but like Rhaena, he can never hold a grudge against you. And if anything it will encourage him further to claim a dragon as to be able to fly with you one day. There’s also Jace, Baela, and Aegon who are eager to race and fly alongside you. 

With the reader claiming Vhagar and with whoever side she picks, they will have the advantage of having the biggest dragon on their side. The problem does arise as neither side don’t wish to see the reader fight in battle.

[samwpmarleau]

Faced with the prospect of being forced to marry each other, Rhaenys and Aegon take matters into their own hands.

Inspired by @riana-one’s comment on this post.

“He can’t do this to us.”

She’s said it before and she’s sure she’ll say it again, but she can’t bring herself to believe it to be the truth. Father has never been shy about his interest in the prophecy, and she knows one day he will expect her to help save the realm against some unknown force, but this?

“He’s the king, he can do what he wants.”

She looks at her brother, and grimaces. The very thought of doing what Father wants, of marrying Aegon, of bedding him, makes her want to heave. Naming them after the Conqueror and his sister is one thing. This is quite another.

“Mother will stop it. Mother would never let this pass.” Listening at the keyhole but hours ago had told her that. She’d never heard her so angry before. Robb had looked positively scandalized, and Rhaenys couldn’t blame him; in public, Mother is always the epitome of grace.

“How?” asks Aegon. “Short of hiding us away somewhere, she hasn’t the power.”

“So, what, that’s it then? You’re to be my brother and my husband? I’m to become your queen one day, I’m to bear your children?”

Rhaenys turns away, her breath coming in bursts. Aegon is struck silent, for once at a loss for words. It’s that more than anything that scares her--Aegon always has things to say, he always has a solution. Something he read in a book, something one of the maesters told him, something Uncle Oberyn said, anything. Yet now, there’s no hope at all and--

She nearly jumps when Robb speaks, so quiet has the room become. “Maybe there’s another choice,” he says. “If...if you’re willing.”

She shares a glance with Aegon, who appears just as nonplussed. “What are you talking about?”

“Marry me.”

Rhaenys blinks, certain he must be jesting. “Be serious.”

“I am.” Slowly he gets up from the chair and walks over to her, then takes her hands. She looks up at him to see naught but sincerity in his eyes. “You can’t be wed to Aegon if you’re already wed to another. To me.”

“Even if--Robb, no septon would conduct a ceremony. It’s practically treason.”

“Who said anything about a septon? The godswood here is but a shade of Winterfell’s, but it’s a godswood all the same. Say the vows with me in front of the heart tree and it will be as valid as a marriage performed by the High Septon himself.”

“That’s--that’s absurd,” she says, even as her heart beats in double-time, even as it becomes impossible to suppress the flicker of possibility. “It would be a scandal on your house, and I’m sure Lord and Lady Stark are already in talks to find a bride for you.”

“So what if they are? There has been no betrothal as yet.”

“Well, then, is there not some maiden you wish to save yourself for?”

It is an eternity to wait for his answer. She’s been skirting around him for months now, trying to keep everything between them the same despite what she feels, despite what she hopes he feels. She’s not yet had the courage to say anything to him, to share what’s in her heart, especially because of everything that had happened between their families. Who is she to want Robb Stark, whose family was destroyed because of her father?

Robb’s voice is as steady and sure as winter. “It’s only ever been you, Rhaenys.”

Why would you want me? she wants to ask.

How could you want me? she wants to ask.

You deserve better than my dysfunctional family, she wants to say.

“Are you certain?” It comes out as little more than a stammer. There’s no time for her to sort through Robb’s declaration, she knows that, but right now that seems an insurmountable task.

“Why would I want anyone else?” he asks.

“We’ll need cloaks,” Aegon tells Robb, as though knowing Rhaenys needs a moment to think--or several. “Can you get one?”

“I’m sure Sansa has one I can steal.”

“Good. Be quick about it.”

Robb gives her one last glance before hurrying out of the room, and Rhaenys turns to her brother. “Do you really think this can work? What if Father says it’s invalid or something? What if he tries for an annulment?”

“And in so doing proclaim that he considers marriages made in sight of the old gods a sham?” Aegon counters. “No. If we do this right, there would be no grounds for setting it aside. Anyway, would the High Septon rather acknowledge this wedding or preside over one of incest? You know as well as I that the Faith has never truly accepted the practice, even for Targaryens. It’s not like Robb’s some peasant, either. He’s the future Warden of the North.”

“Still,” she warns, “unless there’s a witness there of unimpeachable honor, what’s to stop Father from simply saying it’s a lie we made up?”

“So we’ll get a witness.”

“Who?”

Aegon considers that. “Uncle Jaime never strayed from his loyalty to our family, and he’s a Kingsguard. His vows would prevent him from perpetrating a lie.”

“Uncle Jaime,” she agrees, wondering how she didn’t think of him herself. “It’s my union, so I’ll find him. You go find a cloak of mine we can use.”

Aegon nods, and with their slipshod plan set, they head  in opposite directions, Aegon to her chambers and Rhaenys herself to the White Sword Tower.

It doesn’t begin to feel real until she’s sneaking out of the castle, Aegon and Jaime at her sides, Robb within sight at the entrance to the godswood. It hadn’t been nearly as difficult as she’d expected to earn Jaime’s acquiescence, to her relief. After the shock and declarations of her madness had subsided, the full scope of what she was facing had hit him. Incest, between her and Aegon no less, whom she knows Jaime loves as his own. She’d seen in his eyes all that he’d been forced to watch because choice had been taken away, all that he’d been forced to suffer.

In the end, although he’d called them both foolish and impulsive, he’d agreed nonetheless, and now here she stands, about to rebel in a way she thinks would make Black Betha proud. None of them are dressed in finery, barely a cut above attire they’d don on any other day.

But with Robb staring at her like she’s the rising sun, with Aegon’s mouth turned into a mischievous grin, and Uncle Jaime a solid and reassuring observer, she couldn’t care less what anyone wears.

“Who comes?” Robb begins. “Who comes before the gods?”

“Rhaenys of House Targaryen comes here to be wed,” says Aegon. “A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble, she comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?”

“Me,” says Robb. His voice breaks just slightly, and she smiles in encouragement. “Robb of House Stark, heir to Winterfell. I claim her. Who gives her?”

“Aegon of House Targaryen, who is her brother and the crown prince. Who shall bear witness?”

Jaime steps forward and briefly squeezes Rhaenys’s hand. “I bear witness. Jaime of House Lannister, a sworn brother of the Kingsguard.”

“Princess Rhaenys, will you take this man?”

It’s crazy, this plot--this marriage--being here in the presence of so few and yet so many, only a single lantern to pierce the darkness, the eyes of the old gods peering down at them. It doesn’t feel oppressive, not truly, not like she’d thought. It does not pain her to be here, she only wishes her mother could be beside her as well. But such a thing would be far too dangerous, for her mother most of all; Uncle Jaime is risk enough.

She breathes deep and says clearly, “I take this man.”

Aegon steps back, leaving her to join her hands with Robb’s. They kneel before the heart tree and bow their heads, and she wonders what it is she should pray for. She’s only addressed the Seven before. Robb does not have the same trouble, instantly entering into silent prayer, though what his words are she couldn’t say.

Let this marriage stand, she beseeches the old gods. Let it stand from this day until our last. Let this pact of ice and fire endure, come what may.

It’s rough, and probably there was a foreword she should have said rather than jumping straight into it, but she hopes it’s enough. Once they rise, Robb undoes the clasp on her maiden’s cloak and gently hands it to Jaime. It’s not the real thing, merely a cloak Mother had given her for her sixteenth nameday, but her sigil is picked out in the silk all the same, and that’s what counts. In its place, Robb takes the gray wool cloak from Aegon, emblazoned with the Stark direwolf. It, too, is makeshift, pilfered from Lady Sansa’s trunk, but it, too, would have to do.

The cloaking signals the end of the ceremony, she knows, short and to the point, but she kisses him anyway. He’s hers now, body and soul, and it’s her turn to claim him.

“I’m sure I need not tell you what the final requirement is,” says Jaime loudly, “nor, I suspect, will you insist that I stay for it.”

“Or me,” Aegon puts in with a shudder.

Rhaenys can feel Robb’s blush, but her voice borders on flippant as she replies, “Definitely not. Thank you both. For everything.”

Jaime winks, then he and Aegon make haste out of the godswood, leaving her alone with Robb.

“You’re sure that’s it?” she asks.

“I’m sure. All except for the…”

“Bedding,” she fills in. “Well, come on then, I’m not about to let this go to waste because of a technicality.”

She yelps in surprise as Robb scoops her up into his arms without warning. “As my princess commands.”

“Not just your princess,” she grins. “Your wife.”

[masha-russia]

I wonder what Rhaegar would think of his lil sis Dany. Such a shame he never got to meet her. While Viserys would be jealous I think Rhaegar would be in awe of her.

Rhaegar would be so so proud of Daenerys! I feel very sad that they didn’t know each other and that he died before her birth … When Daenerys tells Barristan that she wishes she had known Rhaegar, and he replies “No, I wish he had known you” it breaks my heart because I feel exactly the same! I’m convinced Rhaegar sees her from ~the other side~ somehow and supports her. I think all of her family is proud of her, from Aegon the Conqueror to Aegon the Unlikely passing by Visenya, Daemon or Daena. Jaehaerys and Alysanne would love Daenerys’ good heart and how she protects people and ends slavery, while Daemon Targaryen would cheer whenever Dany shows her fierce side like during the sack of Astapor. Rhaenys, Aegon and Visenya would see a lot of themselves in Dany, and encourage her with her conquests. Aegon the Unlikely would be amazed with her three dragons and how she hatched them and would think to himself “she’s the one prophecies spoke about”. And Rhaenyra and Daena would be delighted that a Targaryen girl is a Queen in her own right and that she achieved her power all by herself :D Sidenote, I so wish Daenerys would talk with Bryden Rivers (Bloodraven) in the next novels! He’s her last family left apart from Jon and he is a really cool Targaryen too … A warrior, a politician and a sorcerer. I would be very frustrated if Daenerys never interacts with him.

In an AU where Daenerys is born one year after Rhaegar I would ship them so much  … They would have been an amazing power couple! Rhaegar’s melancholy would have been nicely balanced by Daenerys’ more light-hearted personality. Daenerys would understand him and they would work together to prepare for the Doom of Man. I want to make a gifset of this AU ... When I finished reading the novels for the first time, 3 years ago, I made a drawing of Dany and Rhaegar in his “ghost form” reaching to her … something similar to this art. 

I love that he is her hero and that Daenerys is often compared to him. And she names her first child, then one of her dragons after Rhaegar. And yeah Viserys was a terrible brother. I have complicated feelings about him, I do feel sorry for him too, but he was so cruel toward his little sister. Rhaegar’ and Daenerys’ dynamic though, had they both been alive at the same time, would have been great and loving

[it-was-so-human]

I read you for some kind of poem

It reminds her that what they have is little, no nothing, more than an arrangement. He is a prince and has all the power in the world. (And she has little more than her ability to stay invisible.) Jon and Sansa AU.

- - -

They make fun of how she always tries to keep clean. Trying to keep mud from splattering her hem despite sleeping on the floor at night.

They tease her for her love for songs of romance and princes. They snicker at how she stays hidden in the tunnels just to listen to another ballad sung in court.

Varys even calls her his Little Ladybird.

The other little birds pull her hair and elbow her for her fanciful ways, say she thinks she’s better than them.

But that’s not true. She’s knows she’s not better than anyone. Most birds have mothers and even fathers. Others have brothers or sisters.

She has no one.

But the songs about chivalry and love leave her feeling warmer at night and make her raggedy dress feel like beautiful silk.

- - -

But regardless she is good at being a little bird.

There are many many of them, but she is among the ones that gets to fly around the Red Keep.

She collects whispers and reads secrets from the letters just as Varys taught them.

And one day she is given a special assignment.

The young bastard (but no-longer bastard) Prince Jon Targaryen is older now. And Varys wants to know his doings.

She needs to spy on his chambers when he retires at night. Hear his whispers, read any letters.  

Though she is proud that she’s been entrusted with such an important duty, she wishes she was told to watch Prince Aegon instead.

(He’s such a beautiful prince, with long blond hair and sharp violet eyes. He looks just like Aemon the Dragonknight. Probably.)  

She shakes her head, who is she to judge anyone? A (no-longer) bastard (now-legitimate) prince is still a million and one ranks above a street rat.

But she is still considering Jon Targaryen’s shortcomings with his serious features and dark curls when she hears him.

“I know you’re there. I can hear you. Come out,” he calls.

She didn’t realize that children were far harder to spy on than adults.

They notice more. Listen more.

“Come now, don’t you think I know the best hiding spots in my own chamber?”

She was found.

Sansa is trembling now; she knows what happens to little birds who make mistakes.

She slowly unravels her limbs and crawls from the small crook behind the wall.  

And now she is standing in front of the youngest prince of the Seven Kingdoms.

“Are you one of those little birds?” He sounds more curious than angry.

But her legs are barely holding her up now.

He’s not much older than her own six years, but he’s a prince.

He will have her head by sunrise.

Her legs give and she falls to her knees, bowing down to him

“No don’t do that.” His voice is firm, before he lets out a sigh. “I don’t like being spied on, but at least they sent a pretty one.”

She sniffs, the gods were kind in their own cruel way. The realized dream of a prince’s regard, right before she was to die.

He studies her, and she in turn studies him through lowered eyes.

His clothes are fine and he has the unmistakable air of… of a prince.

(But when she sees him in court he seems to carry himself with a stiffness, as if an intruder in the royal family.)

“How about we make a deal? I won’t tell anyone–and you will extend the same courtesy to me.”

Could that be possible? No. It could not.  

“They’re going to know I’m not doing my job,” she whispers. As if it was his concern

He shrugs and points his finger to a corner seat.

“Sit there, where I can see you. Pretend you’re spying.”

She moves to the corner he points at, and instead cautiously lowers herself on to the floor. She stares at her grimy feet, her heart beating so loudly.

A few minutes later and she hears him coming toward her, she flinches away expecting pain.

She knows how to defend herself despite her frail size. Little birds learn to use claws—but she cannot attack a prince.  

But instead he places a little yellow cake in front of her.

She knows she should not, but she cannot resist this temptation. (She is always always craving the candied fruit Varys gives them on occasion.) Especially since she’s still not sure whether she is to die or not.  

She takes a hesitant bite. It’s sweet and rich with oh—a pleasant tang.

“Good?”

She nods.

She takes small bites, resisting the desire to gobble it up in one go.

“When you have to spy on me, you can stay here instead. Far more comfortable for both of us. I’ll even slip you some secrets.”

- - -

The next time she is sent to spy on him, she sits quietly in the corner of her chamber.

She refused the chair he offers, so he comes and sits next to her.

A prince, sitting crossed legged on the floor. Next to her. (Were there songs about this?)

She can’t answer his questions about why she was sent and what she knows. So he changes his approach.

“Who are your parents?” he demands instead.

This she could be honest about at least.

“I… I don’t know. I am an orphan.” She frowns, struggling to find the right words. “Sometimes however I feel like I did have parents.”

He laughs at that, “Everyone has to have parents. We don’t drop down from clouds.”

She feels her cheek burn from embarrassment, from frustration. She lives in Flea Bottom, has heard the screams of childbirth her entire life. (She probably knows more about how babes are born than he does.)

Sansa can’t explain it, but she has these fuzzy memories. A beautiful woman singing to her and stroking her hair. A dark haired man, strong but gentle, smiling down at her. (She grasps on to them at night. Praying they’re real, but knowing they’re not.)

“It’s just that… I think they loved me.” She feels so stupid when she realizes what she’s said out loud.

He raises his eyebrows as if amused.

She shrinks back, she feels tired and just so little.

“I know, it’s just a silly dream.” (Her head is always in the clouds, but it’s far better than the filthy ground she walks on.)

He watches her for some time, and she wishes he would just let her be. Go do some princely things.

But then she feels him cup her cheek, gently.

“Not silly in the slightest. I am sure you were a beloved daughter.”

She knows he is teasing, but his voice isn’t unkind.

(And for a moment she believes him.)

- - -

She wants to stay out of his way. As much as is possible at least.

He’s sitting at his desk, composing letters. So serious for a boy of ten.

She sits in her corner, playing with a small bit of thread and singing very softly to herself.

“That’s a pretty song,” he observes absently.

She stops singing and focuses more on her stitches, it’s rare she finds any thread to practice with so she has to be careful.

“You don’t have to stop. It’s a pretty song, but I’ve never heard it.”

She swallows.

“It’s one I hear mothers sing to their children.”

No one’s every sung to Sansa, but she’s sat outside windows listening in. Pretending their gentle voices and sweet words were for her.

“I wouldn’t know,” he says it with a sad smile. “I don’t have a mother either, little bird.”

She’s a little bird, but she isn’t really one right this moment.

“My name… my name is Sansa,” she tells him.

“Okay then, Sansa. Please keep singing.”

- - -

She hears whispers that there’s growing unease, that the other realms are increasingly unhappy.

Robert’s rebellion may have failed, but the unrest it stirred and the legacy of the Mad King remains.

Especially with King Rhaegar growing even further obsessed over his prophecy of three dragon riders.

Sansa knows these concerns have nothing to do with her. (But she does worry just slightly at what it means for Jon.)

-

“I have something for you,” Jon says, arms hidden behind his back before holding up the most beautiful doll she has ever seen.

“It was one of Princess Rhaenys’, but she’s outgrown her toys.”

She reaches eager hands for it, but pulls back quickly.

They were grimy, unclean, and the doll’s silk dress so fine-looking.

She does not deserve it. Didn’t want to know what she would have to do to be worthy of such a gift.

“I… I can’t accept that.”

She knew why men gave women things. (Even though she was not a woman yet, she knows.)

She heard a maid yell at her daughter that the only reason a boy gave her flowers was to rut between her legs.

(And that was just a butcher’s apprentice and some wilting blooms. This was a prince and the most beautiful doll ever.)

She didn’t want that. She didn’t want Jon to hurt her like that.

“You can accept it. I’m giving it to you.”

She shakes her head furiously but her fingers are itching to feel the soft face and pretty hair.

She’s never had a toy before, let alone one so precious. (The little doll was probably worth more than her life.)

“Rhaenys would be glad that it was still being loved,” he offers So she takes it, is too weak. She could love it so easily. She grasped it tightly, as if the doll was some kind of a talisman.

At night, snuggled under her thin bedding, she holds the doll close to her.

And she doesn’t feel so alone.

- - -

“You need to be quiet today. I need to have this memorized this for tomorrow. Maester says that Aegon is further ahead, and my eyes are growing tired.”

He’s grumbling, but Sansa knows he has but a friendly rivalry with his half-brother. They do seem to care for one another.

“I could help you?” she says hesitantly.

He scoffs and she’s indignant. “I know how to read!”

And he only laughs, “Okay, then you read this to me.”

She sees what he’s studying and smiles brightly.

“Oh I already know this!” she smiles.

“Why would you know of Northern Houses?”

She doesn’t mean to feel hurt, but the jab reminds her who she is and who he is. (Sometimes she forgets.)

“Birds pick things up. That’s our job.”

And she does—Varys even encourages her to learn the names of all the Lords and their sigils and mottos.  

So she tests him, gently guiding him when he makes a mistake. (He is a prince after all, she means to not forget that again.)

“My favorite is House Stark. Doesn’t a direwolf sound magnificent?” she says with a smile at one point after they both note how absolutely terrible the sigil for House Bolton’s was.

“There is no more House Stark,” he snaps at her.

Oh.

Varys also encourages her to learn the North’s history.

And she suddenly remembers that his mother was a Stark. And though she died, his King Grandfather had the Stark family called to King’s Landing. And he had them burned.

And he then gave Winterfell, their centuries-old home, to a more loyal house.

She wonders if he’s angered by the Starks or if he’s… saddened.

Sometimes Jon Targaryen seems so lonely when she spies him from afar, and she wonders if this is why.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“So am I,” he answers softly. “Please continue.”

And they review until late at night when she’s feels heavy-eyed and so very sleepy.

She wakes up to a delicious unfamiliar warmth.

She stretches lazily before realizing with a start where she was. Still in his chamber, but before daybreak, thank gods. With velvety soft furs tucked around her.

- - -

“I need you to whisper something to Varys. Tell him that you hear I’m fighting with my brother. That’s I’m upset with him. Fuming in my chamber.”

“But you’re not,” she says forgetting.

He puts a finger under her chin and lifts her head, making her look into his eyes.

“Is this something you can manage or not?”

“I can manage it.”

But she hates when he does this.

It reminds her that what they have is little, no nothing, more than an arrangement.

He is a prince and has all the power in the world.

(And she has little more than her ability to stay invisible.)

((But sometimes she forgets.))

- - -

“He’s no direwolf, but It thought it might please you to play with him tonight.”

It’s a little pup. Snow white and cuddly with adorable little yelps. But he would grow up to be a handsome one.

There are dogs a plenty in Flea Bottom, but they’re normally angry and ready to attack. As they should be if they want to survive.

She lets out a laugh as the dog nips at her fingers.

It’s as if Jon is making amends for the past week. (But he has nothing to apologize for, it’s not his fault she forgets.)

He kneels down next to her.

“Sansa, we all have our duties, but I have no right to treat you unkindly.” He pauses before continuing, “No one has the right to do so.”  

She buries her face in soft puppy fur.

(She doesn’t want to tell him that his greatest unkindnesses are far kinder than how most people treat her.)

- - -

She hears whispers that he’s to be engaged. A beautiful and charming and witty young lady. The Lannister granddaughter, Myrcella.

But he only shakes his head when she tells him what she’s learned.

(She can’t deny him the secrets she’s learned that are about him.)

“That would never happen. My father does not trust the Lannisters.”

But he doesn’t sound very certain. She knows he is wary of his father, and growing only more so.

“I hear she’s very pretty,” she offers, but knows there’s a grudging tone to her voice. (She cannot help it.)

The two of them will make quite the pair. Like in the songs. A prince and his princess.

He’s becoming quite… handsome too. His seriousness more appealing on a young man than it was on a child. He also has a genuine smile, attractive dark curls, and bright gray eyes.

(Sometimes she feels a sharp tug that he reminds her of something, but there’s never been anything so good in her life before.)

“You’ll grow up to be pretty too,” he says knowingly. “Don’t fret.”

He says that as if she should be pleased about this. Jon Targaryen might be a prince and sit in on council meetings and learn swordsmanship, but he knows little of reality.

“I don’t want to be pretty.” And it’s the truth. (She knows what happens to pretty girls.)

“What do you want then?”

So much. More food, a bed, a family to love her and for her to love, and for you to not forget me.  

Instead she offers an easier answer.

“Lemon cakes.”

“Well, that I can manage.”

- - -

She knew what would happen when she got older.

What type of employ a street rat turned woman could get.

Not even enough respectability to get a job as a scullery maid at the lowest of inns.

She’d be one of those women men thrust against the wall for pennies.

The thought sends panic through her, she can’t breathe when she starts thinking of it.

She will do anything to avoid that, she saves as many coins as she can, ate even less than the little she could afford. She found discarded needles and thread throughout the castle to practice on.

She was very good with a needle; she knew she was. She just needed a chance. (But who would employ a street rat as a seamstress?)

She’s scared every time she sees her skirt hem is falling higher and higher.  

Little birds are supposed to be little.

- - -

She’s grown tall, still skinny skinny. But not so little anymore.

Varys told her that she would no longer be a bird. But he was sending her somewhere.

She doesn’t know where, but she knows she’s leaving King’s Landing.

She knows she’s going to miss Jon Targaryen.

He made her feel… as if he cared for her.

He called her by her name.

She didn’t mean to start crying when she went to tell him goodbye, but she feels tears prickle the corner of her eyes.

Her throat hurt and her chest ached. She was dirty and a low low lowborn.

And she was ashamed to want so much that was not made for her. (She would never see him again and she wants to see him for forever.)

“Why are you crying, Sansa?”

Because I’ll never ever see you again.

“I’m being sent away, I’m too big now,” she manages.

He steps closer to her.

“Where? Where are you being sent away?”

“I don’t know, but I made you something.”

She still has the doll, keeps it hidden during the day and close to her at night.

She wants him to have something from her too.

She knows he probably doesn’t care.

(Maybe he thought she was just an amusing little street child.

Maybe he was using her to feed Varys his red herring secrets.)

But she wants him to remember her a little longer.

She pulls out a small square of fabric and hands it to him. She had struggled to find it and used the pennies she’d saved to get the right thread.

On it was embroidered a direwolf. The Stark sigil.

He might think it’s treasonous, but she doesn’t think so.

He runs his finger over the delicate threads, creating the wolf’s fur in varying shades of gray, "It’s beautiful, Sansa. Thank you, thank you.”

She feels her face redden, but she’s so pleased.

He swallows heavily. “Don’t, don’t go. You don’t have to go. I can keep you here in King’s Landing.”

She shakes her head furiously.

Even if Varys would her go, she was almost eleven now and afraid she’s becoming pretty. She sees the way men’s eyes follow her.

She didn’t want to know what kind of work he could find her. (Not him. Not her prince.)

“Are you going to be safe?” he finally asks.

The slight panic in his voice is the first time she realizes this… this friendship might mean something to him as well.

So she does her best to act brave, lifts her chin, and says with more confidence than she feels.

“Of course I am.”

A small fond smile grows on his face.

He places a firm kiss to her brows.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less. Goodbye, Sansa.”

- - -

“Be brave, Little Ladybird,” Varys says as he walks her past the castle walls.

He hands her into a waiting cart, but not before whispering in her ear.

“I know you’ll miss your cousin, Lady Sansa. But do not worry. One day you’ll be his Queen of the North.”

- - -

Also on AO3.

- - -

I’m like posting this from a flight (no one’s sitting next to me!), so like I blame this on bad circulated air.

Ugh. My next story is just going to be an AU where Sansa just wears cozy sweaters and drinks hot chocolate, I swear.

[doloresrojo]

The Princess of Dorne

Hi. One of the events that intrigue more of the GOT universe is the First Dornish War, so I wrote what I think it happened. Hope you like it.

Deria couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t long for sunrise and she wasn’t able to get any sleep all night; part of it was thanks to the pregnancy, she was almost three months long, and she also resented the heat of the Dornish weather lately, the maester said that it was normal considering her state. But all of that was secondary, in reality, the true reason why she couldn’t sleep was the worry. The rebellion against the Targaryens was almost ten years long, and even though they were still strong and fighting ferociously she feared that her grandmother’s death, Princess Meria, would affect the moral of her people.

She used to believe, or rather hoped, that her grandmother would be eternal, that it wouldn’t matter that she was old and blind, she would never die; her might was made of something stronger than steel, and she truly believed that she would live to win this war. Grandmother Meria had died a couple of months ago and her father, Prince Nymor, was a good leader and guided the Dornish army and people as best as he could. But he was old and he was starting to decay, he did it faster than what Deria expected, faster than her grandmother. She had been raised to rule Dorne one day, but she didn’t want to inherit a country fighting a war.

Fed up of not being able to sleep, she decided that the best that she could do was to leave the tent that she shared with Ormund Yronwood to go for a walk in the hopes that it would clear her mind.

Unlike most of the royal houses of Westeros, the Martells and the Lords of Dorne decided that the best tactic to defend themselves against the invaders was to flee their castles and households and attack once the enemy felt safe; that’s why they were hiding in the dessert, they had been in hiding for almost ten years, she hadn’t set a foot at the Old Palace since, or Sunspear, the capital of Dorne. Of all the castles in Dorne, Sunspear was said to be the most intact but Deria felt that if she ever had the chance to see her home again she would found it different somehow, unrecognizable. Nevertheless she wanted to see it again, she missed it.

Like any other environment, the desert was an unforgiving and treacherous place for those who had never wander in it; there were no trees to leave marks to not lose the way, water was scarce if you didn’t know where to find it, sand dogs could be vicious creatures and the most terrifying was that the desert could play with your mind, making you see things that were not there. The Dornish knew that the army of the Three Headed Dragon would ignore all of this, out of inexperience or arrogance, so they would not consider the desert a real threat.  

It could also be a place of extreme beauty. At nights it looked like it belonged to a fairy tale; the stars and the moon shined so bright that they almost reflected over the sand and the mountains seemed blue under the sky. The camp was quiet, most of them were sleeping. “They have fought greatly, they still do, but for how much longer?”

“You can’t sleep?” Asked a voice.

Without noticing it she had reached her father’s tent, Prince Nymor was sitting on a stool outside of it. There was no torch light to illuminate him but the moon’s shine and it was enough to see Nymor’s curved posture and the lines on his face. It made her feel sad and scared how wan her father looked, he was seventy and five years old, twenty years younger than her grandmother when she died, and yet he looked older. The consequences of war where harsher on him than on grandmother Meria. She hated the feeling that her days with her father were numbered.

“No father, it seems that you can’t either”

“The baby doesn’t let you sleep?” Asked Nymor while he got up with the help of a walking cane. Deria went to help him but he stopped her with a hand. He got in to the tent and invited her to do the same.

“Take a seat my daughter” She took a seat on one of the chairs that were in front of a small table while Nymor light on a candle and serve two cups of cool blood orange water, he gave one cup to Deria and took a sit.

“When your mother was pregnant with you she also had trouble to sleep; you barely move during the day but in the nights you didn’t stop moving, your poor mother had to sleep when the sun was out” Said Nymor with nostalgia.

She put a hand on her womb unconsciously. Deria never knew her mother, she had died giving birth to her. The maesters had told her that her pregnancy was developing perfectly, that she didn’t need to worry; but she feared that she would suffer the same fate.

“Still it’s too early for the baby to move father. And you, what keeps you awake?” Asked Deria to stop her mind to travel to places she didn’t want to go. She took a sip of her water.

Nymor sunk a little further on his chair.

“I cannot stop thinking about your grandmother. Of how I hoped that she would never leave us, I think we all did. We all believed that she was indestructible regardless of how old she was. She was indeed the incarnation of our words: Unbent, unbowed and unbroken, nevertheless she was human after all. I also think of your mother, how much I have needed her this ten years of war, my beloved Tanselle”

Tanselle Sand that was her mother’s name. Bastard daughter or the Lord of Sandstone, Mors Qorgyle, the Black Scorpion. At the Old Palace there was a portrait of Tanselle, the only remaining image of her. When they fled Nymor tried to take the portrait but he was unable to. Deria also yearned to see her again, it was getting harder and harder to remember the face of the portrait.

“I can’t take this war any longer Deria and I dread that Dorne will not either”

Ever since the death of Queen Rheanys at Hellholt things had gotten more difficult for them; over the last three years Aegon and Visenya had burned almost every corner of Dorne that they could find, The wroth of the Dragon, that is how they called it, they also put a price on the heads of the royal family and letters that claimed that they had paid the dragons to avoid their wrath were delivered to the Dornish houses. But none of those things had diminish the loyalty of the people and the houses; the Targaryens probably couldn’t say the same, when they put a price to their heads the Martells counterattack doing exactly the same, and so far only the Targaryens had been attacked, not them, but Deria knew that the tide could easily change against them.

“You want to bend the knee father?” Deria had started to suspect that Nymor wanted to surrender; at meetings with the Lords and the Army Commanders he was withdrawn, he paid attention but he rarely participated, to the dismay of everybody else. Ormund urged her to encourage Nymor to show more interest.

“Bend the knee? Never, like your grandmother said to Rhaenys Targaryen: Dorne will only have a Prince or Princess, never a King”

She had to admit that part of her wanted him to surrender, truthfully sometimes she didn’t see the point on still fighting, but at the same time she was proud of her father.

“What do you want to do then?”

“Establish peace between our kingdoms but maintaining our sovereignty” Nymor said it like it was the easiest thing in the world, although his tone was severe and conclusive.

“Father, Aegon and Visenya Targaryen will never accept that, especially after the death of Queen Rhaenys. We killed her, at least that’s how they see it” She believed that on some measure she understood the Targaryens, if Ormund or anyone else she loved died, regardless that it was at the hand of the Targaryens or in battle she would want retribution; but she knew that this was war, and like death, the war didn’t spare anybody. So the thought of revenge for the death of a love one at the battlefield could be a senseless demand.

“Deria, there is something I have to tell you. Is about Queen Rhaenys”

She kept silence waiting her father to continue.

“Rhaenys Targaryen didn’t die at the battle of Hellholt”

“But that is impossible” Said Deria in disbelief. It truly was; Queen Rhaenys couldn’t have survived the fall, it was too high, the impact alone was enough to explode her body. Some people said that her dragon, Meraxes, had fallen on top of her; Ormund was there, he saw her fall. Yet he had never seen her body, or anybody else for that matter.

“As impossible as it sounds she survived the fall, she got gravely wounded but she survived. When the battle was over Harmen Huller found her a few miles away from her dragon; she could barely breathe and most of her bones were shattered. He offered to kill her but your grandmother didn’t let him, she was so ill that the maesters had to attended her right where she was so they wouldn’t hurt her further when they moved her. She was kept hidden with a sheet to make her pass as another dead body. Your grandmother ordered the Ullers to hide her and warned them about the consequences of disobeying her if they harmed her or revealed her survival. You know how savage the Ullers can be” Nymor was disclosing all this to Deria without emotion in his voice, which only aggravated her temper.

“You are telling me that grandmother Meria deliberately made the Targaryens believe that their sister was dead. Why?! We could have used her to negotiate peace... this rebellion would be over already!” Deria was furious, her womb gave a complaint in response. She didn’t understand why her grandmother didn’t think of this before.

“At first the scene was so somber that we believed that she wouldn’t live for too long, but when a week passed I told your grandmother the exact same thing, that she was an opportunity to make them surrender and end this war once and for all but your grandmother refused, she said it was not the right time. That we had to use her as our last resource, when the war was on our necks. If that happened then we would use her to manipulate Aegon, and if he doesn’t yield then we will end her suffering” Nymor kept silence for a moment, contemplating. “I think that for my mother, denying mercy to Rhaenys and make her siblings believe that she was dead, was her personal revenge”

That only made it worse. That meant that her grandmother put her personal interest before the wellbeing of her people.

“And know is the right time?” Asked Deria sarcastically, she didn’t like being disrespectful to her father but she couldn’t help it.

“We can still give a fight, but I am done with this war”

Deria just kept quiet and slowly breathed, she needed to calm herself, and she was starting to feel pressure in her womb.

Noticing his daughter distress he refiled her cup with more blood orange water, she drunk eagerly her throat was dry.

“Where is she?”

“For a while we kept her in a tower near the Red Mountains, but then we relocated her to Sunspear, she is in a house at the care of various maesters”

“What is her state?”

“She cannot walk or move her arms. She was rendered immobile and she has difficulties to breath and talk. Her mind, however, is active; I went to see her once and she beg me to kill her. I had no desire to go back after that”

Deria remembered everything that Ormund told her about the Battle of Hellholt, the greatest victory for the Dornish people since this war had started. Thanks to the shot of a scorpion that hit Meraxes in the eye, she fell from the sky taking Queen Rhaenys with her. Ormund said that everybody could see her descending and Meraxes falling over her, how she writhed in the air perhaps trying to stop her imminent impact and the sound the dragon’s body made when it landed was like no sound he ever heard before. Ormund believed that the Queen’s and Meraxes death was significant in more than one way; on one hand it proved that the dragons weren’t invincible and on the other that the Targaryens and their army without them weren’t as strong as they pretended to be, because once the dragon was defeated it was easy to slay the army of the Three Headed Dragon.

“Who knows about this?” Deria thought that by now that didn’t matter anymore, but she asked anyway.

“The Ullers and me. And your grandmother of course”

“So, what is the plan?”

“I will write a letter to King Aegon and I will send it with an emissary; I will explain the situation and our terms. I will give him two options: He can come to Dorne, alone, so he can end himself her life or he can take her back home, not before signing a peace accord; or he can refuse and I will assure him that his sister-wife will have a slow painful death”

“You would really do that father? Would you be so ruthless to a woman who cannot even move?”

“Of course not Deria, if Aegon refuse I will end her suffering not prolong it and it would be a quick and painless death; she is our enemy but she has agonized enough. But Aegon doesn’t need to know that” Nymor said this with a smile, she hadn’t seen her father smile in a long time.

“That might only make him angrier with us”

“Perhaps, but we already tasted his fury and we endured it, and we have to be firm”

“Do you think he will take the bait?”

“I believe so, is no secret that she was his favorite sister-wife; you know what the rumor said: For every night that Aegon spent with Visenya he spent ten with Rhaenys”

Nymor hoped that he could made her laugh with that comment but Deria remained silent.

“It is a gamble Deria, I acknowledge that but it is worth to try it”

Deria was having trouble to believe that it would be so simple, but Nymor was right, it was worth try it, what else could they lose? She didn’t like the idea of that poor women in pain, no matter her being part of the enemy. And like her father, she wanted to be done with this war, she wanted to go back home and wanted a peaceful country were her son or daughter could live.

“Send me father”

Nymor felt that he might had been stung by a scorpion. Deria couldn’t be serious.

“No Deria, you are pregnant and you are the heir to the throne, it is too dangerous”

“Father, if I am going to rule over this country I want to do it knowing that I did everything in my power to assure its safety and that somehow I contributed in the termination of this war; you have to admit that so far my contribution has been limited. Besides if I go the message will have more strength, I am a member of the royal family after all”

Nymor didn’t underestimate the fury of the remaining Targaryen siblings, surely they would considered it a fair pay: The life of his daughter for the life of their sister.

“Deria, you and the child you are expecting are the future of Dorne, of House Martell, and all I have left, do not ask me to risk that”

She took Nymor’s hands and looked him straight in the eye. His words moved her and she knew he was speaking from the heart but her mind was already made.

“I won’t lie to you father. I consider that the decision that grandmother made about Rhaenys Targaryen was a wrong and proud one, and you made a mistake as well by letting her do that, because Dorne suffered as a result. I know you are scared, I am as well, but we have to make this right and if somebody else do this it wouldn’t be just”

Nymor wanted to protest but he knew it would be useless, just like her mother Deria was not easy to persuade.

“Ormund will never allow it”

“He can come with me”

“And he will, I will command it, although I know I won’t need to; he loves you too much to let you do this yourself”

She smiled when she heard that.

“When do you want me to leave?”

“As soon as I have everything ready, I will let you know; for now go back to your tent before I regret this”

Before leaving she kissed Nymor and said while she gave him a hug “Thank you for trusting me”

                                                              ҉     ҉      ҉    

“Deria? Are you here?” No answer came. “Seven hells”

Ormund Yronwood didn’t like to be paranoid but ever since the Targaryens had put a price on each of the Martells head, he couldn’t help it; he didn’t like to leave Deria’s side and when he had no choice he left her with guards protecting her. And it only got worse when they found out she was with child. This were difficult times for bringing a child to the world, the only ones that were aware of the pregnancy was Maester Uron and Prince Nymor, Ormund wanted to keep it a secret for now, he feared that the price would only rise if it was known that the heir to the throne of Dorne was expecting. He put on his boots and was looking for his shirt when Deria came in to the tent.

“Where were you? I was about to go out to look for you”

“I went for a walk, I couldn’t sleep”

Exasperated he ran a hand through his hair. “You shouldn’t go out on your own during night time Deria, you know that”

Deria knew that Ormund’s worries weren’t misplaced, and he meant well. That didn’t make it easier for her patience. They had had arguments about his overprotectiveness, in other circumstances she would have quarreled with him but she had no energy for it; the lack of sleep was taking a toll.

“I am sorry my love, I didn’t want to worry you”

Ormund took a breath, he didn’t want to argue either.

“Do you feel better at least?”

“Yes” Answered Deria with an unconvincing smile. Ormund noticed it.

“What is going on? You seem tense”

She looked at him, and for a moment she got distracted. Ormund descended from the Andals, that was why he was faired skinned, with blond hair and blue eyes, while she was brown skinned and her hair and eyes were pitch black. She wondered how their baby would look like.

“My father and I had a conversation Ormund”

“About what?”

“The war, he wants to negotiate peace”

“Peace?... Does he wants to surrender?”

“No, he wants to establish peace between both kingdoms, as sovereign kingdoms”

Ormund shook his head. “Deria that will never happen, the only way the Targaryens will accept peace is if your father bends the knee to King Aegon”

“True, but this time we may have an advantage”

“What do you mean?”

She though that now was as good as any moment to tell him.

“Ormund there is something you need to know” 

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