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Chapter Text

Late year 105 after the Conquest: 

The Winter Child. 

The nickname Gael had been cursed to have followed around her, due to being born when her mother Alysanne was 44 years and almost at the end of her childbearing ability. 

“Damn you, Viserys! ” she cursed her oldest nephew, the current King of Westeros as her dragon Frostfyre flew towards the capital in the highest speed the female dragon could do on the request of its rider, “Damn you for taking after the man who sired me despite my mother pleading with him to stop knocking her up, and going to indirectly murder Aemma though this pregnancy! ” 

Aemma was doomed to die in childbirth, and the boy fated to follow her less than a day after killing his mother. 

This was what Gael had seen in a rare vision of the future, and she still felt sick at recalling the image of Viserys choosing his unborn child over his long-suffering wife, of Aemma cursing and screaming as she was being held down despite her protests, the bloody baby that was handed to Viserys, and finally, the two bodies on a shared pyre. 

“I must warn her! I must warn Aemma that Viserys will prove himself like so many other damn men here in Westeros and think that the lack of a cock between the legs means that a daughter is undesirable as heir!” 

It was this sort of thinking that had caused her niece Rhaenys to be rejected as a future Queen, despite being the oldest grandchild of Jaehaerys and Alysanne. And if her gut feeling was right, then history was about to repeat itself again with the coming generation. 

“Ugh, men and their idiotic egos that are so fragile that they can not accept having a daughter as heir and spare their wives from being killed, all because said husbands desire a new child!” 

Landing a safe distance away so Frostfyre would not be seen too clearly with her snow white scales, Gael switched to her broom. With her simple clothing and a plain black topped hat with a headscarf to cover her tell-tale Targaryen hair, she was looking like every common-born Northern Witch that was visiting the southern covens for whatever reason. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X      

Not long after, the private chambers of Queen Aemma Targaryen neé Arryn: 

It was likely for the best that King Viserys I was away meeting the Lords and other people, because if he had met his wife face to face at this moment, she would have looked at him like he had been a monster. 

“He…will…have me… cut open?! Like a pig for slaughter?! Against my wishes? With none of the witches with healing-magic present to help me during the birth?!” 

To be honest, Gael would not have faulted her niece if she had fainted in horror and shock over this reveal. This was a reveal of a horrible death, and knowing that it would be all in vain, on top of it? 

“No…” Aemma whispered, her eyes being filled with furious years, her hands trembling as she felt any remaining love for her cousin-husband fade away over learning that he would do such a betrayal of her trust, “No! I refuse to let that happen! I will not spend my last moments alive like that, bleeding out like an animal sacrifice!” 

With her history of struggling to have more children than her only daughter Rhaenyra, Aemma had a very justified fear of dying in childbirth and how it would be a delayed death caused by Viserys knocking her up in yet another attempt to have a son. 

“Why…why is my next child…fated for death as well? Is it because my health has not been the best during this miserable pregnancy?”

Gael shook her head, after shutting her eyes closed for a moment. 

“He will be born with a fatal heart problem from the moment of his existence beginning in your womb. Not even we witches can do anything about this sort of medicinal problem, despite all our magic, and especially not on such a tiny little heart.”  

And Aemma seemed to lose all hope at this brutally honest answer. She did not collapse to the floor in tears of despair, but something still broke in her. 

“Aunt…aunt Gael…please…please…is there anything you can do to prevent the Maesters from killing me with the consent of my husband?”

Oh, what a hard and painful question! Both knew that Gael was an outcast among the Targaryens, for being a witch. Jaehaerys had grown a fear of witches after that he and the Sisterhood had teamed up to wipe out the Iron Islands and its culture, because in the witches he saw the opposite of the kind of woman Alysanne had been slowly forced to become over the marriage: Able to live independent of a man or family, with a freedom not to have to obey norms or gender roles. 

So when Gael had been born in year 80, and her magic revealing itself already in the cradle by freezing everything in the nursery yet the baby princess itself had been unharmed, Jaehaerys had refused to have anything to do with his youngest child and basically thrown her away by having her be fostered in House Umber, as far away from the royal court as possible. 

“The only way I can help…would be to kill you before you were to be cut open in that barbaric way, Aemma. By stopping your heart though a freezing spell that is slowly spreading. ” 

Gael chose to be blunt and honest, because while Aemma would hardly be the first woman she had to kill in this manner to prevent a horrible death, it felt extra painful over that it would be a family member this time. It was only two years between them in age, and yet Gael knew that her life as a witch had allowed her knowledge and choices in life which Aemma was denied from the start. 

“Aunt…” 

Aemma was only 23 years old. She should have many more years more of life to enjoy, yet the trappings of a royal wife and a demand for a son was going to kill her.

“Do it. Please, please, I would rather die from my heart suddenly stopping and them not being able to make it beat again…rather than…” 

Taking four great steps forwards, aunt and niece were almost face to face. 

“Are you really sure? You are going to last only a day with this deadly cold slowly stopping your heart. In fact, you may not live long past the sunset,” Gael asked, just to avoid one of those last-moment chances of mind. Aemma could already feel the breath against her skin become colder, a sign that Gael had started her magic. 

“Yes. And I will spend those last hours of my life with Rhaenyra. ” 

A good choice. The child that she loved and adored, rather than the husband who would choose to save his unborn child over his wife. 

“I am sorry that you have to die this young, sweet daughter of my older sister Daella, and that once again, I can not do anything to change the fates of my female relatives.”

A bang of old regrets was felt in her heart as Gael kissed the forehead of Aemma, a faint layer of frost covering the pale skin before vanishing like it had never been there in the first place. 

“Aunt…please help Rhaenyra get crowned as the first Targaryen Queen regnant of Westeros. Do not let her share the fate of cousin Rhaenys and witness a male relative to be chosen because of what he had between his legs…please.” 

Gael closed her eyes, recalling the fates of her sisters and her own criticism of the late Jaehaerys I despite their few meetings over the years as she grew up. 

“I will, Aemma, this is a promise I have made to myself over the years, as not even my own father, called the Wise and the Conciliator, proved himself willing to accept a female heir despite half of his own children being daughters.” 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

The next morning at dawn, the bells in all septs across Westeros were rung in mourning of the pregnant Queen Aemma, who had died from a sudden heart stop in the late evening before after spending a meal with her daughter Rhaenyra. 

And the son who had been cut out from her belly in a desperate attempt to save his life, also joined his mother in the afterlife before the following dusk. 

“I am sorry, sister Daella…but I could not stand the idea of your own daughter dying in the same situation as yourself,” Gael whispered with bitter tears from her eyes, her disguise as a septa working to hide her identity as she knelt in front of the grave of said sister in the Vale of Arryn, praying that Aemma would find peace in death alongside the mother who had died at her own birth. 

“Heh…I hope that Viserys enjoys the magical tattoo that I branded him with the moment Aemma died…” 

For the rest of his life, Viserys I would be marked by a tattoo on both his palms with her magic of winter and cold: 

Wife-murderer 

This because he had indirectly murdered Aemma though this fatal pregnancy, and would view a unborn son as more important than his own wife, because a wife could be replaced by another woman in both the marriage and birthing bed. 

Chapter Text

Her mother was gone. For the last few days, ever since hearing that the Queen had suddenly collapsed and died from her heart stopping to beat without warning, Rhaenrya had cried so much in grief over losing Aemma that she seemed to have no tears left. 

“Mother…please come back, please come back…Mother!” 

Around the eight-year-old Princess where she had done numb in grief and barely seemed to react on anything, everyone was preparing for the burial pyre of Aemma and Baelon, the little brother of Rhaenyra who had lived for just one day, just as Gael had told her niece ten days before.  

“Princess, are you going to the dragon pit?”

But Rhaenyra was not in the mood for flying on her dragon Syrax, which she normally loved. She just wanted to forget this emptiness in her heart, where her mother had been before. 

“Will she come to the burial, you think?” 

“Princess Gael Targaryen? The aunt of the King? I hope not!” 

“Her only appearances here in the royal court are during burials of her family members! She is a walking omen of death!” 

“What else can you expect from the Winter Child of the late King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne? Ice Witches are bringers of disasters!” 

Gael Targaryen? That name sounded like something she had heard before, Rhaenyra realized, but where? And a Targaryen who was a bad omen to the whole family?

“Who is Gael?” she asked loud enough for the group of maids to hear, and they all bolted with fear when realizing that someone had overheard them. 

“Someone you do best in staying away from, Princess! She tried to kidnap your mother with her to the frozen North before your parents wed! The scandal of the year, I remember, and King Jaehaerys ending up banishing her from the South all together in fear of a repeat!” 

“Orders from your Father! No one is talking about that woman!” 

And the maids ran off in different directions before Rhaenyra could ask anything further, making her even more confused. 

“....what?” 

Now this strange behavior from the maids was a real mystery, because Rhaenyra knew that she had heard that name before. 

“ I have asked Mistress Gael Targaryen to help you become the first woman to sit on the Iron Throne as a Queen Regnant. With the first Targaryen Witch as an ally, you will have a strong backing if you just can make the rest of the Sisterhood agree to it as well. ” 

Oh. Now Rhaenya recalled it. Some of the last words Aemma had told her, after that fateful dinner just for the two of them, where she last had been alive. And… a faint male voice, even, from her earliest memories, of a older Targaryen male, as the late Prince Baelon held his granddaughter in his lap:

“ Never make yourself an enemy of a Witch, sweet Rhaenyra, for such an act will cost you dearly , especially if you could need the help of said witch if you found yourself in danger. “

With Rhaenyra being born four years after the wedding of her parents, she naturally could not know that part of why Gael was distrusted by the Red Keep, came from the thirteen-year-old Gael trying to prevent the royal wedding in 93 AC at finding out that the eleven-year-old Aemma would already be standing as a bride to Viserys despite her tender age, and correctly foreshadowing that Aemma would not be as blessed as Queen Alysanne in her pregnancies, a behavior that naturally had not endeared her to Jaehaerys at all. And that this was why Viserys did not want his aunt around even now, fearing that she would do something that would prove a long-term disaster for the Targaryen dynasty. 

Just like Gael, Lady Rhaenys Velaryon née Targaryen did not doubt about the reason why Aemma, her eight years younger cousin, had died at the young age of 23. 

“Both she and aunt Daella should have been allowed to live past her 50s at the minimum…!” 

At her side, Corlys laid a hand in comfort on her shoulder, showing a silent agreement that the Queen had died at a very young age, barely getting the chance to actually live. 

“Mother,” 13-year-old Laena spoke up as she and her brother came back from greeting the freshly widowed King Viserys, “there are whispers about Gael being a bad omen again among the servants.” 

And Laenor hurried to add in: 

“And they do not even address her correctly, Mother, despite that it is nine years that have passed since she finished her training at Bear Island! It is Mistress Gael Targaryen, not Princess! You said she renounced her royal titles when she underwent her rite of passage to become an Ice Witch!”

Both Lord and Lady Velaryon facepalmed as their children informed them about what the two heirs to Driftmark had heard on the way back to the courtyard. 

“Damn that grandfather of mine. He never accepted his youngest child being a witch, and only saw her as a troublemaker he wanted nothing to do with! Is there any big wonder that Gael sees House Umber as her real family in all but blood?” Rhaenys groaned, mentally cursing that once again, it was the shadow of the late King Jaehaerys who haunted the Red Keep in this situation. 

“I can talk with the King about this after the burial. Laena, Laenor, be so kind and try finding the Princess for a small talk between us about Gael, she shall not become another Targaryen who distrusts Gael solely for her magic,” Corlys offered, and his wife thought that a logical choice of action given why they had been here in the first place. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X  

Looking back at his behavior that day, Daemon was not too happy over himself. Calling the short-lived baby Baelon “heir for a day”, when being named after their late father,was indeed a very tasteless joke that he should have kept in his head, and the fury of Viserys over his careless slip of tongue had been expected, since not only had Aemma died, but also the last child she could have given him.

“I can almost hear Father demand me to come down to the training yard and give me a beating masked as weapon training I have not gotten since I first started training….” 

Even aunt Jocelyn had shown her fury over said “joke” by slapping him hard in the face the moment she had spotted him earlier today, and cousin Rhaenys had given him the silent treatment after warning him that this sort of behavior was exactly why he did not endear himself to those who did not fell for his charms. 

“Hey, old boy, what is it?” 

Caraxes had suddenly raised his head, as if hearing or something in the air that Daemon did not. The red dragon looked around, before suddenly whining like he was a hatchling getting bossed around by the older dragons and tried to hide himself inside the Dragonpit. 

“Oh no, she is here, isn't she? How in the seven hells was Gael able to terrify you, the Blood Wyrm, with a simple smack on your snout back as a toddler?” 

The red dragon gave his current rider a side glare, as mentally wondering how stupid Daemon was for not realizing how painful it was to have his snout suddenly covered in magical ice threatening to spread all over his head and freeze his brain in a manner that would mean death to any living creature?

King Viserys I was very grief-stricken by the loss of both his wife and son, that was true and few would deny that he had loved Aemma in his own way, but it felt like Gael had added salt in this raw wound of grief with the tattoos on his palms. 

Wife-murderer

For him, those tattoos were another proof that Gael did not understand how important it had been for him to have a son, despite how he had hated how it would cost Aemma a little more and more of her own health with every miscarriage and stillbirth she had suffered. That people would view him as a weak King with only his dear Rhaenyra as heir, and how Daemon sitting on the Iron Throne as King would be a disaster in itself. 

“I need to remarry and try having a son with a new wife, Gael, even with Rhaenyra as my heir, I need a spare if something happens to her…Westeros can not be ruled by a Queen Regnant, we can not lose both the regnant and her expected heir in a childbirth that may go horribly wrong….”

And with that logic for himself, Viserys proved that very same hypocrisy that the late Jaehaerys had shown about not making his granddaughter Rhaenys or one of his own surviving daughters as a possible Queen Regnant following himself. That both Kings followed ancient traditions with desired male heirs more strongly than what they wanted to openly admit to the strong-willed women in their families who made fruitless protests against this, being willing to have a grandson as successor than the very same daughter who connected the two generations. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X  

Of course Gael was present at the burial of Aemma, hiding herself as a septa so Viserys and Daemon would not notice her. And Corlys was not the only one to nearly jump in fright at spotting her in the group of women sworn to the Faith, because she looked so alike her dead sister Maegelle that it was like seeing a ghost from the past. 

“Taking advantage of how witches sometimes need to blend in among the common population in order to find where they may be most needed, indeed…” 

Still, after the burial, after that House Velaryon once again offered their sorrow for Rhaenyra over losing Aemma at her young age, Gael did show up, now dressed in her more normal clothing and her black topped hat to show what she was. 

“Mistress Gael,” Laenor addressed her, bowing in respect as he opened the door for her. 

“Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen?” Gael asked mostly for the formal side of things, because at that moment, this black-dressed, eight-year-old girl was the heir to the Iron Throne. 

“Yes?” 

The adult woman and the 17 years younger girl looked at each other. 

“I can not guarantee that it will be successful, but I did promise your late mother, Queen Aemma, to place you on the Iron Throne as the heir of your father. But you need to do a major part of this as well, because my duties as a witch will not let me always be present when you may need me. You need to remind all of Westeros that you are the oldest surviving child of Viserys, even if he remarries.”

Gael only hoped that Rhaenyra would not grow up to become another entitled, spoiled Targaryen royal who would ruin things for herself with some foolish ideas that she could get away with whatever she did. And heaven knew that Daemon could be a bad influence on Rhaenyra because he was her uncle and she was too young to understand the dangerous side of him. 

“For my mother,” Rhaenyra whispered with tears in her eyes, and there was a silent agreement between Rhaenys, Corlys and Gael about trying to limit Daemon in whatever way they could while Laena and Laenor promised Rhaenyra to support her claim to the throne. 

“Gael, my mother would like to request more furs from the North because she is starting to feel her age not quite agreeing with the weather at Driftmark, can you pass this on to the Manderlys of White Harbor?” Rhaenys asked, using her mother as a code for something else. Aka, asking Gael if she could get the North to support Rhaenyra as the oldest child over any younger half-sibling that Viserys could have in a second marriage. 

“Lady Jocelyn is blessed with such a caring daughter, grandchildren and son-in-law.”

For now this first meeting had to be cut short as Rhaenyra was needed with her father, and Gael had a personal reason to return back home to Last Hearth. Besides, with the death of Aemma, perhaps it was time to spend more than a few months in Essos again, just like how she had done in protest of Alysanne always babying her at their few meetings and her birth mother not seeming willing to accept that her youngest child actually saw Lord Arne and Lady Tyra Umber as her parents in all by blood, because Alysanne was a stranger for Gael. 

Chapter Text

On her way back to the North and Last Hearth, Gael stopped in the Vale to inform a  close friend that she would be absent from Westeros for quite a long time. Likely up to a year just to be on the sure side. 

“Why am I not surprised that my estranged husband made such a tasteless joke about his short-lived nephew?”

Rhea Royne, Lady of Runestone, seemed unimpressed by Daemon as usual. Well, no wonder, their marriage had been arranged by the late Queen Alysanne the same year as Rhaenyra had been born eight years ago, and by being the type of woman that had no interest in sexual activity at all, Rhea had never enjoyed the unwelcomed touches of her husband or her supposed duties in bed as a married woman. In fact, she would rather have became a old maid by her own free choice, but alas, the offer of a royal son-in-law and making Rhea a princess by marriage, the wife to the younger one of the two only legal-born grandsons of King Jaehaerys, had been a offer too good to refuse in the eyes of her father Yorbert Royce, though Rhea did not resent him for it. He had just wanted to securing both her own and her younger twin sister Alexandra's futures, especially since their family unfortunately had no sons from her late mother, nor any first or second cousins to act as backup heirs for the sisters and both would have to marry to have heirs in the form of their own children. 

“You can still ask the Sisterhood to scare the high Septon into dissolving the marriage. Why remaining chained for life to my idiotic nephew by marriage vows?” 

Gael had heard Rhea give her reasons before, and only asked to remind her friend that there was a freedom to get. 

“To prevent Daemon from having legal heirs with a new wife for as long as possible, as a personal “fuck you” to Alysanne for arranging this match between us, because she was blind to how not every woman would be charmed by him and to let him learn the hard way that being a royal prince does not endear him to everyone. Besides, I find it rather funny to watch how Caraxes always slams into the invisible barrier that blocks Daemon from entering the Vale because that Blood Wyrm can not smell it and how I can mock him from a safe distance, showing that his royal lineage does not matter.” 

Gael laughed in agreement when remembering how that had happened for the first time, the year after the wedding. She and Rhea had exchanged old scrolls in ancient runes to compare the scripts between the North and Vale, when Caraxes suddenly slammed into the barrier like a giant red bat into a closed window shutter above their heads and Daemon narrowly avoiding to slide along the barrier all the way down to the ground because he had fallen out of his saddle from the unexpected stop, clinging for dear life to the stirrup as the rather confused Caraxes tried to enter the Vale again and failed twice before giving up. 

“Served him and the woman who gave birth to me right, as a lesson in that not everyone adores the Targaryen family. I have found out since early childhood that quite a lot of people actually find them to be little else than inbred freaks and looking unnatural compared to normal people. And the blocking barrier was good use of your friendship with the Vale coven, letting the Vale be free from his presence.”

Rhea smiled, before looking at what she had just finished sewing. 

“This is a little gift for Safiya. I tried to make it a little bigger, so she will not grow out of it so quickly.” 

Seeing that it was a lovely dress in blue cotton fabric with little stars embroidered on the white strip of the sleeves, collar and skirt edges, Gael knew that it would be welcomed by her six-year-old daughter. 

“I will bring her along for a quick visit before we leave for Essos, I am planning to pick up Rahima at Hellholt to join us too.”

Of all people to catch the heart of Gael and become her current lover during the last years of Jaehaerys, it had been a fellow witch from House Uller. Granted, it had been somewhat unexpected for both the women as well, but at the same time, a real irony that a descendant of Queen Rhaenys Targaryen would fall for a descendant of Yasmine Uller, the woman who had killed Rhaenys and her dragon Meraxes though a well-aimed iron bolt from a scorpion which went through Meraxes's eye, causing Meraxes to fall from the sky and crush her defenseless rider to death beneath the she-dragon upon the landing.

“That reminds me, Gael…who did you say to be her father again? Or did I miss you mentioning his name at some point because my mind was focusing on the scrolls in front of my eyes?” 

The Ice Witch smiled, and said something that would have horrified her late parents if they ever had learned about the existence of this granddaughter that Gael worked so hard to never let the Targaryen family know about:

“Khal Jochi, one of the most powerful Dothraki leaders in Essos currently with his 10 000 riders. You have heard about the dosh khaleen, right? Well, actually they are NOT the widows of deceased khals, they are a mix of common shamans and the Dothraki version of the Sisterhood. In fact, I was at Vaes Dothrak to learn a little about magic works among those nomadic horse-lords, when I heard about his wife Sarkan struggling in a difficult childbirth, and helped her during the delivery as she was brought to the dosh khaleen in the hope that the lives of both mother and child would be saved.”  

It was almost comical how Rhea 's eyes widened at the reveal of not only who had sired little Safiya, but how absolutely wrong everyone had heard of the only city in the Dothraki Sea. 

“You are telling me all the details right now so I can write down a PROPER documentation of their culture and anything else that is apparently being told wrong about the Dothraki! Like, just how MUCH have people been misunderstanding about the Dothraki all this time?! ” 

As she was dragged along back indoors so Rhea could get parchments, quill and ink to write with, Gael was not surprised that Rhea saw a chance to once again use her skill as a scholar, and made a personal note to herself to bring Rhea along on this journey to Essos so her good friend could personally witness what she would be writing down. Besides, her sister Alexandra and her family was used to handling Runestone whatever Rhea traveled to another part of Westeros for various reasons. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X    

A few days later, the lands surrounding Last Hearth, home of House Umber:

“COME BACK HERE AND FACE ME LIKE TRUE MEN INSTEAD OF COWARDLY BOYS, YOU ILL-BRED MUTTS!! ”

It was very rare for the Free Folk to slip past the well-guarded Wall and the eyes of the Night's Watch, but it had happened this time thanks to some rather careless black brothers on Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. A gang of self-confident and somewhat cocky youngsters, mistaken for a group of fishermen due to the distance they had been spotted at, had sneaked past said black brothers and entered the Bay of Seals, intending to kidnap young women from the various farms as their rather unwilling wives because they wanted to to show their lifestyle to be more superior to that of the “kneelers”. 

“No one said that the women of those lands are bear-like giants!”

But a rather nasty surprise awaited them in the form of Tyra Umber, who right now was leading a personal troop of Umber soldiers after the intruders to chase them off the land. 

“I AM GOING TO FEED YOUR SEED-FILLED BALLS RAW TO THE HUNTING DOGS OF MY HUSBAND!! AND I AM GOING TO TELL YOUR COVEN OF WITCHES ABOUT THIS!!” 

While Tyra was only a Umber by marriage, she was exactly that sort of big, thickset woman who would be called beautiful by many northerners because of how she showed that “traditional femininity did not mean weakness” was very true here in the North. 

“Get them!” 

In the end, the group of Free Folk youngsters were all captured, and dragged back to Last Heath where they would be imprisoned for a while, before literally being tossed back to the other side of the Wall by Gael on Frostfyre when she came back. 

After washing herself off in the sauna and dressing herself in fresh clothing, Tyra returned to leading the women and girls of her household in the steps of making cloth, as if the attempted raid had never happened. 

“When will Mama come back, grandma Tyra?” 

This question came from a girl who stood out a bit among the other girls who was learning how to sew and embroider the cloth, and not merely for the contrast with the copper skin tone and raven black hair that she had inherited from her father. But her small face reminded a lot about Gael if one looked past the baby fat, revealing that they had to be close relatives. 

“I think that answers your question, Safiya dear,” Tyra smiled at hearing the roar of a dragon from the outside. 

“Mama! And auntie Rhea!”

Of course, this brought some attention from the present children of Arne and Tyra who were home at Last Hearth. 

“Gael is home!” 

“Hey, sis! Did you bring Lady Rhea with you this time because your nephew is being an ass to her as usual!?” 

Frostfyre was used to the now grown adult Umber children gathering around her to welcome her rider, but the she-dragon still gave a warning roar. And with Gael having no less than six foster siblings, three brothers and three sisters, it could be quite a scene.

“Some things NEVER change here…uff! Put me back down on the ground, your big oaf! I am not being carried over your shoulder like when we were kids!” Gael protested to one of her foster sisters when she was caught in a literal bear hug that lifted her feet off the snowy ground. She was not petite compared to them, but even her reasonable muscle mass for a normal woman who needed to be physically strong for a lot of reasons, made Gael seem like a thin beanstalk even in adulthood and after a pregnancy where she had added in weight. 

“Maaaaama!”

Thankfully, the arriving figure of her daughter from the keep allowed Gael an excuse to be put back down. 

“Safiya!” 

As mother and daughter hugged each other, and seeing Tyra holding up her arms in a welcoming move, Gael knew that she had come back to the place where her home always would be, no matter what.

“Welcome back home, my sweet snowflake,” Tyra smiled as she too hugged Gael and welcomed Rhea as a unexpected guest, using her special nickname on her foster daughter which Gael had never felt like an insult to her, compared to being called the Winter Child of Jaehaerys and Alysanne. 

“I am home, Mother…and, there is something I need to tell you and Father.”

Gael knew that her foster parents would be saddened by her leaving for Essos with Safiya and Rhea, but that they would understand why when she explained the other reason outside the annual visit where her daughter would meet her father in the Dothraki Sea. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X   

Later that evening, when Safiya and the other young children had gone to bed for the night: 

Tyra combing and braiding the hair of Gael while both sat in front of the massive fireplace before bedtime was a ritual they had started when the Princess had been old enough, so long ago in her early childhood. This was their private time as mother and daughter despite not sharing any blood ties, a way of showing their bond.

“You did the right thing in giving poor Aemma a quick death. Dying from the massive blood loss of her belly being cut open against her protests…that sort of barbaric operation should only be done on pregnant mothers who are already dead and the child still left within their wombs, not on those who are still breathing. It is a horrible way of spending your last moments alive with such suffering in agony, especially when the husband shows that the unborn child is more important to him than the wife, all because of the slim chance that it may be a boy.”

And that sort of scenario proved a very good reason why the witches of the Sisterhood were more trusted by women than any Maesters, who were all men and would never understand why the birthing women had more faith in the witches to help them. Yes, sometimes a mother would be lost in the birthing fever or other reasons for her dying from childbirth, but at least everyone would know that the witches had tried their best to help the mother to not be taken by death. 

“Viserys is going to remarry, without doubt, and not to a respectable widow with her own children that would never pose a threat to Rhaenyra. No, he will aim for a noble-born maiden, and sire children on her that will become rivals about the Iron Throne in the future.” 

Even with Gael having her back against her, Tyra could see the tension in the shoulders as a sign of how Gael felt about being unable to prevent that from  happening, else she may draw unwanted attention to herself. 

“Then bring us along to the royal wedding to make a finely disguised protest about his choice of bride, and remind both your nephews that they can not pretend that everyone loves the Targaryens.” 

Allowing herself to laugh at the mental image she imagined how it would end as, Gael knew that the presence of House Umber and herself on the second wedding of King Viserys would be the talk of the year. 

“Oh, my sweet sisters are going to take the pampered southern nobles by storm.”

Given that all three of her foster sisters were full-figured and could look stunning in the right fashion style to bring out their feminine curves as well the right colors to make them look nice, Gael knew that many southern nobles would be shocked at hearing that all three of them already were married. 

Chapter Text

The Red Keep: 

With Aemma gone, most people knew that it was only a matter of time before Viserys remarried after finishing his mourning period. As Rhaenyra was his only child, and a daughter on top of that, this meant that Daemon would be viewed as a preferred heir by those who wanted a fellow warmonger on the throne, unless the adult Rhaenyra managed to avoid the same situation as Rhaenys just a few years ago. 

“Aunt Jocelyn, please be the main teacher of Rhaenyra. I want my daughter to not be uneducated about her future status.” 

The widow of the late Prince Aemon made a deep curtsy to the King. 

“It would be an honor for me to teach your daughter, Viserys, and I will make you proud of this choice.”

In fact, Jocelyn had plans of her own about this role. If there was anyone who could train a princess for the role of being a ruler when there were no sons, it would be her. The widow of Prince Aemon, mother of Lady Rhaenys Velaryon. With Rhaenys as the only child of their otherwise happy marriage, where the difficult birth had caused such damage to her body that Jocelyn would never be pregnant again no matter how much they tried, that reality had proved necessary. 

“I will not let another Princess be refused the crown on the grounds of what she lacks between her legs! ”

That rejection of Rhaenys and her children, in favor of Viserys with him ending up as the next heir of Jaehaerys, had not only been a personal humiliation for Jocelyn as the wife of the oldest Targaryen Prince of their generation, but she also saw it as an open disrespect towards her late husband from his own father.

“Damn you, Jaehaerys! If only you had not summoned the Great Council, where those men chose to have the male line taking precedence over the female line! My Rhaenys would wear the crown of Viserys right now, and have two children old enough for betrothals! My daughter is still trying to have more children because she and Corlys want to have a big family…!” 

No, this was not the right time to think of the past. There was a young, motherless princess who not only needed a shoulder to cry on, but also to be taught about what she would face as the chosen heir of her father. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X  

While Rhaenyra had mostly accepted her grief over Aemma, it still did not mean that she was willing to accept the idea of a stepmother. And no, not for the “wicked stepmother who hates her stepchildren” plot that often was told in stories for children, but rather something else: 

“I do not want Mother to be forgotten by people, or only remembered for later generations for her failures in giving Father a son!” 

This the young princess admitted to Jocelyn in the middle of a sewing circle with other noble ladies and daughters at court. And quite a few of them did actually agree with her reasoning. 

“There are so many women in a first marriage who end up overshadowed by a younger one, just because the second wife ends up having the desired male heir…”   

“My stepmother is really nice and I know that I can tell her if I have a problem of some sort that my Father would not understand due to being a man, but she has admitted that this whole pressure to have a son is limiting her joy in being married and caring for me.” 

“And my stepmother feels like she can never live up to the idealized image of my birth mother, thanks to Father not realizing how he is comparing both wives to each other!” 

“If being a second wife to a powerful Lord is bad enough, then I do not want to imagine being the second Queen consort to King Viserys. Poor Aemma had to face comparison to her own grandmother, Queen Alysanne, my late mother-in-law, because everyone talked about the need for royal children and how the elder Queen was blessed with 13 children in total!” Jocelyn muttered under her breath, making a finishing touch on the embroidery in her lap. From her seat, Alicent Hightower was one of the few to not join the talk. In fact, she seemed rather uncomfortable about the chosen subject: 

“Since my Lord Father is the Hand…I fear that he may try to suggest me as a possible second bride…” 

Alicent was eighteen years old, and while far from a age when she would be called a old maid, it was quite easily to imagine a scenario about that Otto Hightower had tried to keep other suitors away from his daughter for exactly this sort of event: That Aemma would die without a son, and everyone would demand Viserys to remarry because having only Rhaenyra as heir to the Iron Throne was dangerous since if she died young, there was a high risk of Daemon becoming the Crown Prince. 

“Why are so many people against uncle Daemon becoming King after Father if something happens to me?” Rhaenyra asked, feeling that she did not know quite the right details. 

“Daemon, the Rogue Prince, sitting on the Iron Throne?” a new voice suddenly spoke behind them, and Agnes, a common-born witch from the Crownlands coven, entered the chamber though the window from her broom like she did not stick out like a sore thiúmb with her simple clothing compared to what the nobles wore, “Princess Rhaenyra, that is inviting an era of war against Essos for Westeros! Endless fathers and sons, both nobles and commoners, losing their lives in unnecessary fighting far from their homes and families all because Daemon and his fellow warmongers think of war and fighting as glorious! Royal bastards being sired everywhere as he nags about poor Lady Rhea refusing to share his bed yet proves himself being the undesirable spouse by demeaning her to everyone who bothers to listen to his nagging about his wife and claiming that the sheep of the Vale is preferable in bed to the women! ” 

It was only a warning glare from Jocelyn that stopped Agnes from going into deeper details, partly out of that Rhaenyra was a few years too young to learn how babies were made and not wanting the unmarried women in the sewing circle to suddenly start dreading their wedding night. 

“Thank you, Mistress Agnes, for saying almost exactly what I would have tried to explain to the Princess about why her uncle would be a poor King.” 

“And exactly the type of disgusting man to try endearing himself to young girls with gifts and flattery, all so he can bed them later once they are old enough to start bearing children of their own. Be on guard around your uncle, sweet Princess, for he has a darker, self-central motive behind most of his actions, and that includes a wish to sit on the Iron Throne. If you were a boy, then you would be a rival for the crown that he would try to remove without any hints pointing at himself as the culprit. Preferably by death. ” 

Seeing how Rhaenyra paled in horror at the mention that Daemon would try to kill her if she had been a boy and all his previous gifts and sweets words to her had a darker meaning, Alicent hurried to hold the Princess in her arms. 

“Mistress Agnes, enough! The Princess is already having a difficult time from losing her mother! She does not need to learn this about her uncle as well!” 

The witch merely did a curtsy and then turned around to leave though the window again without another word, but there was something in her brown eyes as she quickly glared over her shoulder that told Rhaenyra that she had not lied about Daemon. Not a single word had been a lie. 

“How…? Why would uncle Daemon…” 

Again, it was Jocelyn with the wisdom of belonging to a older generation that gave the best answer: 

“There are sadly monsters to be found in every family if one looks close enough, and some of them can mask their true intentions very well for those who are willingly blind or less taught about the world not being all black and white like in stories and songs. Some monsters are even blind to their own actions affecting others around them despite originally meaning well, refusing to see the wider image or aftermath that will come.”

~X~X~X~X~X~X  

With dragons, you never quite knew what could happen. Even those who were used to humans and having riders, could still be unpredictable. And the Gods help any fool who acted carelessly around them. 

“What did you just say, uncle Boremund?” 

And now, such an act of fatal mixture of alcohol and youngful foolishness had cost House Baratheon the intended heir. 

“He was so drunk that he tossed a hammer at Vhagar and openly insulting her most famous rider, Visenya Targaryen?!” Rhaenys repeated in shock, not quite yet believing what her uncle Boremund had just told her. 

“Vhagar reminded everyone that she is a clever old lady who has seen much during her lifespan so far and gave my son a slow, painful death by burning him with her dragon fire in such a manner that he was not killed on the spot, before flying away from the Stormlands again. It took him three days of agony, even with the milk of the poppy, before the Stranger took him to the afterlife.”

Unlike what many might believe, Boremund had not been blind to the flaws of his son. It had alarmed him greatly that Borros refused to learn how to read and write as part of his education in favor of being on the training grounds all day, a behavior which the Stormland coven had pinned down as Borros being “born in the wrong era” aka that he was better matched for a life as a warrior in the pre-Targaryen Westeros with the separate kingdoms and sometimes wars or other conflicts between said kingdoms which involved weapons.

“And Borros was your only surviving son after that your dear wife Hannah and your five older sons sadly died from tuberculosis the same year as my own father died…” 

Really, Borros had actually done the Stormlands a great favor in secret by dying before he inherited the family castle and got married, because quite a few of the older generation did fear how his love for fighting and lack of social grace would cause massive problems in the future. 

“I am too old for remarrying, and most of the Stormlands actually agree with me on that,” Boremund admitted without shame, “besides, even if I did find a mature widow in her best years and she gave me a new son, there would be a too high risk of that I would die before seeing that son become a legal adult by law and not needing a regent. No, better that my witch daughter Hildegard becomes my heiress, as she is already old enough to be married and her status as a witch also allows her to pass down the Baratheon name to her own children.”

Rhaenys could see the logic in this. Hildegard was eighteen years old, a fine example of a weather witch which for her meant a control over winds, and having the common sense and social grace which Borros had lacked.

“Shall we try a little match-making for Hildegard on the ninth birthday of Princess Rhaenyra, uncle? Many people are bound to gather then, or when the King chooses to marry a new wife. Even if she may already have a good suitor in her mind, she needs to choose carefully. House Baratheon can not always be a family of warriors, there needs to be a mix of different talents.”

Boremund nodded, and he knew that Hildegard, now his only surviving child, would also think in the same lines. She was not the type of woman to be impressed by a suitor trying to show off his jousting skills in a tourney, after all, because fighting had been what her brother Borros loved and the siblings had contrasted greatly in that even before her magic had awakening. No, Hildegard wanted a man who appreciated other things in life and would not make her a widow early by a foolish need to prove his masculinity for a hare-brained reason, even Boremund himself could tell that. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

Somewhere in the Dothraki Sea: 

The camp had been set up for the coming days, and everywhere one could see the everyday chores happening. 

“No wonder Gael loves to come here once every year as a break from everything that burdens her.” 

It was not the first time Rahima Uller was coming along to Essos. Staying in Westeros could get a bit boring unless you tended to travel all across the seven kingdoms, and she had not been surprised at Gael using Frostfyre for longer travel distances so she could explore the world. After all, the Ice Witch had only needed to make a floating iceberg as a temporary resting place in the sea overnight with Frostfyre acting as a living blanket of warmth for the three women and sole girl so they did not freeze while sleeping, before they had continued the journey the next morning. 

“You seem to enjoy our time here, Rhea.” 

The female scholar looked up from her newest scroll where she had been writing down the details of Dokhraki culture over the past three months that they had been there.

“I do love the Vale as my home, but part of why I sometimes travel to the different Covens is to get help in this work. If I always remain at home and only get texts sent to me by some form of delivery, I can not personally confirm the truth or if something is being written wrong on purpose to try to make another culture seem even worse than they really are. Do you understand what I am meaning, Mistress Rahima?”

The Dornish Water Witch nodded as she looked around on the camp where everyday life went on. If one was to just read about the Dothraki as witnessed by outsiders, who did not not understand their customs and traditions, those horse nomads would indeed be viewed as bloodthirsty barbarians with no concept of trade, where women was good only as wives or female slaves the moment they started to bleed and was fertile, and ignorant of how every adult would be needed alive to protect their trible or clan. 

“And that sort of “foreignness” is used against Dorne as well, sadly, by the rest of Westeros. Because many of our customs are a legacy of the Rhoynar, and adjusted to a very different culture than the rest of Westeros.” 

Proving that sometimes, it was those very outsiders who misunderstood a different culture and believed themselves as the better people by trying to put an end to ancient ways of living without thinking that maybe there was a reason for this lifestyle so different from their own. 

“Daemon would likely faint in disbelief over that even I, who have never been in love with a person, can see why Gael wanted Khal Jochi or anyone else here in his Khalasar as the father to Safiya,” Rhea laughed softly, “Sure, he may not be the most handsome fellow or most merry person to be around, not someone who can be called wealthy in landholdings….but he is rich in followers, as those 10 000 men under him shows, and is one of the more powerful Khals around. Even without a formal wedding, carrying his child is a perfect revenge for Gael against her late parents.” 

Rahima laughed in agreement over that. Really, for all their claimed superiority as dragonriders, the Targaryen family was alarmingly blind to how their incestous customs were the very thing that would cause their family to die out one day in the future. Everyone with some basic knowledge of breeding animals knew how inbreeding with close-related animals could cause sick and deformed offspring, and therefore it was so important to have fresh blood to avoid undesirable results. 

“Gael truly got the best revenge against her parents with a daughter sired by a non-Valyrian husband, yes!” 

Further away in the camp: 

“There is no doubt about my husband being her father when seeing them together.”

Gael was watching Safiya, Jochi and his son Berke playing in the distance together with his legal wife, Sarkan. If one did not know that Safiya had a mother from Westeros, she would seem like a true Dothraki child because she took after her father so much in looks that there was almost no trace of the Targaryens in the daughter of Gael at all. 

“And yet I am still surprised that you allowed me to share his bed.” 

Sarkan looked up from her embroidery with a look that would have promised death to anyone else who said this. 

“You saved me and Berke from death when it turned out that he was in breech position and our normal midwives needed help to avoid losing us both. Besides, Jochi and I have shared lovers before in the past once we have grown comfortable around each other after the wedding. He knows that I am drawn to both men and women, just like yourself, Gael, and accepts it as long as it is his children that I carry in my womb due to being his legal wife.”  

Indeed, Jochi had been very grateful to her for saving his wife and first child, that Gael had expected. But she had been so unprepared on how she would fall for both Jochi and Sarkan the longer she stayed with their tribe, despite already knowing since a few years earlier that she liked both genders. In Jochi she had found a cultured man with a taste for poetry and music that simply came from a different standard of what culture did mean, and in Sarkan a woman that honestly could seduce people with her skill in the saddle during hunts and her fine embroidery. 

“I could not have found a better pair to become the father and second mother of my Safiya.”

Sarkan smiled with a look towards where Rahima and Rhea were. 

“You have found a great coven of mothers for her…what?!” 

Suddenly, a terrified shout was heard from Berke, drawing their attention as there was a smoking ring of fire around Safiya. 

“A grass fire?!” 

But as several adults hurried over, Rahima in the front to put out the fire with her water magic, both she and Gael noticed something different. 

“Wait…is that at her feet… lava?! ” 

And then they realized what they just had felt: the awakening of a magic inside a future Witch. 

“Oh, great! I can already hear the Senior Witches in the Sisterhood back home confirm this as the Iron Islands Coven cursing my father for wiping the whole culture out! Both a daughter and granddaughter ending up as Witches in revenge for his own terror of the Sisterhood! One as a Witch of Ice, and one as a Witch of Lava as part of fire, its counterpart! Now I have yet another reason on my growing list to ensure that Safiya is never found out by the other Targaryens outside those that I trust to keep her existence a secret! ” Gael groaned as Rahima put out the thankfully small pool of lava with a very huge dose of water, then hugged the confused Safiya in relief that she hadn't accidentally hurt herself, her half-brother, or her father. 

“Sweetling, we need to talk to uncle Corlys about this little finding causing some problems for your interest in ships and sailing…” 

Gael knew that Safiya would need to learn to control her lava powers first, or she would risk setting a ship or other boat on fire by mistake. 

Chapter Text

Despite his first shock over what Safiya could do, Jochi quickly realized what this could mean. 

“Hah, ha ha….what a tale this will be in a few years! Having a witch in the family is one of the greatest honors a Dothraki warrior can have!” 

And that was one of the biggest contrasts between the Dothraki and the noble families of Westeros. In a nomadic culture, magic was a way to keep peace between different clans and tribes, as the witches could prevent unnecessary bloodshed  over something foolish, not to mention helping in times of troubles. While a noble family in Westeros would moan about the loss of an important marriage alliance if a daughter showed magic. Of course, not all families would act like that, but for those who craved power in some form, a witch daughter could ruin quite a few plans for the future. 

“I am glad to give you that honor, Jochi, even if we may stay in Westeros most of the time…uff!” Gael was interrupted by her lover suddenly hugging her. What was it with the trusted men in her life and giving her those rib-crushing bear hugs that almost lifted her off the ground?

“Lets celebrate! A big feast all night throughout the camp!” 

Showing off his impressive physical strength, Jochi had no problem lifting up both Gael and Safiya to carry them back to camp. Even Berke seemed to have caught the merry mood of his parents as he dashed after Sarkan. 

“Jochi, I am NOT planning to get pregnant again, just so you know, even if you would be the father of a second child! One pregnancy was enough for me, thank you!!”

Smiling at each other, Rhea and Rahima also knew that Safiya being a fellow witch would be good for Gael's self-confidence. Not to mention an effective way of breaking this secret granddaughter away from the legacy of Jaehaerys and Alysanne. 

“I need to add this reveal of a new mother-and-daughter pair of witches in the History of the Sisterhood records once we have returned to Westeros! And I can see Daemon getting his butt nicely roasted by lava if Safiya sees her dear mommy getting bothered by him!” Rhea grinned like she just had gotten a really nice gift, already writing with her steel quill on her clay board for notes. 

“That is why you love seeing him being cockblocked, right? A nice poke to make a hole in his male ego and a free show of enjoyment to make up for the unhappy marriage,” Rahima laughed. 

A few more months passed in the Dothraki Sea with Gael and Rahima teaming up to give Safiya her first lessons in how to use her magical power without harming anyone. 

“Looks like the omens are in favor.” 

As Sarkan was pregnant once again, the tribe traveled to Vaes Dothrak to let the dosh khaleen foretell how this birth would go. 

“May the strength of this wild stallion join with you as you carry this new life inside you, Khaleesi Sarkan, and guide the soul of your child to feel pride over being a Dothraki from birth!” 

Rather than eating the raw heart of a wild stallion, the heart was instead presented to Sarkhan as a way of welcoming a new member of the Dothraki people to their culture even before birth, as the mother accepted the heart on behalf of her unborn child and then offered it to Jochi as a sign of him also welcoming his next offspring. 

“So this is why the raw heart of a stallion ceremony has been so misunderstood! I mean, making the pregnant wife of a Khal eating it raw as a sign that she will carry a son and her choking on the blood or retching up the flesh means she will either have a daughter, a stillbirth or a disabled child? What sort of weird ceremony would that be, apart from trying to show that only manly men are favored among the Dothraki people?” Rhea whispered to Gael, who had told her about this horrible misunderstanding prior to coming to the city. 

“I did ask about this misunderstanding when I first arrived at Vaes Dothrak back when I was eighteen, and the dosh khaleen was horribly insulted over that other nations and people would think that they would insist on such a foolish idea! Everyone knows that the stomach of an expecting mother will reject various foods, so eating a raw heart like that? Literally asking the poor mother to become sick in front of everyone and risk food poisoning if she eats it! Who wants their pregnant wife and unborn child to die from poisoning like that?”

Nodding in agreement, Rhea returned to watch the ceremony be finished with Sarkan taking a bath in the Womb of the World to be blessed by its holy waters.  

Again, Gael acted as a midwife to Sarkan when it was time for her to give birth and could present his second daughter to the very proud Jochi, before it was time to return home for a few pressing reasons. 

“We need to plan how to make the coming birthday of Rhaenyra overshadow the second wedding of Viserys that is bound to happen just a month later.” 

Through a magical hand mirror for communication with their fellow witches, Gael and Rahima had learned that Alicent Hightower was set to become the new Queen consort just a month after Rhaenyra turned nine years old. 

“Count me in on that. With you, Gael, I know that it is going to be the talk of the year across Westeros!” 

Yet one last surprise was waiting for them in Essos… 

~X~X~X~X~X~X    

Outside the Free City of Tyrosh: 

As slavery was part of the cultures here, it was to be expected that some culture crashes would happen whatever a Westerosi would be there on a visit. 

“A shipwreck?!” 

Frostfyre flew down at the command of Gael, and landed on a nearby rock in the sea, allowing her to make an ice path to walk over to the broken pieces of the ship, where it had crashed against several rocks that must have been unspotted during the night. 

“Are there any survivors, Gael?!” 

To their horror, the three women saw several dead bodies that was from the Free Folk, meaning that this ship must have been north of the Wall in a attack on a settlement before any of the local witch had been able to help, 

“Sch! Listen!” 

A faint cry, from a child. 

“Rahima, Rhea, help me here!”

A female child, no older than a year old at the most, the sole survivor thanks to the mother shielding the tiny body as the ship had crashed against the rocks. 

“Oh, you poor little one!” Gael said in the Old Tongue spoken by the Free Folk, gently picking up the child who reacted at hearing a familiar language. 

“Poor one, she seems to be blind from birth, and now an orphan…” Rahima said after using a healing magic with her water powers, as she found something that alarmed her about why the small child had not opened her eyes.  

“ Aemma. ”

Both of them turned at hearing what Gael said, holding the small toddler in her arms. 

“What?”

“Aemma, after my poor niece. Just because I do not aim for more pregnancies, does not mean that I am unwilling to be a foster mother. ”

And with this, Gael had earned a second daughter, showing again how different she was from most of the Targaryens before her. 

“Mama! Who is that?” Safiya called when spotting the small child in the arms of her mother as the three adults returned to her and Frostfyre.

“Your new sister, Aemma. She has lost her own mama and papa, so she needs someone to care for her.” 

Despite how sudden this chance in her life happened, literally out of the blue, Safiya seemed to understand that Gael was serious in this situation. Besides, she had been asking her mother if she could have a sibling in Westeros as well after that they had left Jochi and Sarkhan a few days ago to return home to the North. 

“Little sister.” 

Thankfully, Safiya knew that some families had children through fostering or adoption outside their own biological ones, as she personally had witnessed back home at Last Hearth. In this way, Gael was merely following an ancient tradition found both in the North and beyond the Wall, by ensuring the survival of an orphaned child with no family. 

“Um…Gael…look around you…it is a magical barrier around us.” 

Gael paled at hearing this from Rahima. 

“Looks like you will have your hands full in the coming years, with two daughters that are fellow witches! The Sisterhood will be happy to get two future members, though.” 

“You tell me that, Rhea…well, I will rather have a commonborn adoptive daughter from the Free Folk than having to foster a spoiled noble daughter from the south that is used to all kinds of luxuries and servants who do all the rough work!” Gael admitted as they mounted Frostfyre again after dressing little Aemma in some spare clothing and flew up in the air once more. She only hoped that any word about this little Aemma would reach the ears of King's Landing, where many nobles at court would view it as a insult to Viserys about Gael naming a orphaned Free Folk girl after his first wife. 

Chapter Text

Throughout her life so far, Alicent had grown up knowing that as a noble-born girl, she would expect a future marriage arranged by her father, Otto Hightower. Here in Westeros, a father showed care for the future of his children by ensuring marriages with suitable spouses for them, unless they were so far low in the succession order that they could be sent to the Faith or the Citadel. 

“Of all the grooms I was told to accept and thank him for…he chose to offer me in marriage to the king?!” 

To be fair, King Viserys was not an old man, or known for having several previous wives already buried. But what made Alicent so anxious about this unexpected betrothal and her future role, was that Viserys had no son from his first marriage. She knew that the late Queen Aemma had struggled to have more children than Princess Rhaenyra, and she did recall what the princess had mentioned a few months ago: 

The fear that Queen Aemma would be forgotten in the history books because her sole surviving child was a daughter, and that a second wife of Viserys would have the triumph of giving him a son and male heir. 

“I am just a replacement in the marriage bed for him…and Father will insist that if I have a son that survives to adulthood, or long enough to make me a grandmother, then this boy should be the heir instead of Rhaenyra!” 

Alicent was well aware of that Daemon would be a horrible King if he ever sat on the Iron Throne, and that it was exactly why Viserys proclaimed Rhaenyra his heir, having all the important lords of the Seven Kingdoms swear fealty to her, promising to honor and defend her rights of succession. In addition, Rhaenyra had been named Princess of Dragonstone.

“If I have a son…or even more…father will try to insist on tradition for male heirs and that my son should be crowned as the next King over Rhaenyra! A succession crisis…” 

Had it just been any other suitor, Alicent would have been very happy for her upcoming wedding, but with the realization of what sort of scenario that could happen, she instead feared the future. 

“Lady Hightower?”

It was Dowager Lady Jocelyn Targaryen, who had appeared without Alicent realizing her presence. 

“Lady Jocelyn….I…I…”

The honest look of fear was visible on Alicent's face, and Jocelyn could tell the exact reason for it, especially as it was only one day since the reveal that king Viserys intended to remarry. 

“I do not know if I can offer any comfort in this situation, but perhaps there is something I can still do to ease your fear…” 

Taking her hand in a gentle manner, Jocelyn brought Alicent along. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X  

Later, far outside the capital: 

A fine wheelhouse stopped in front of a small cottage, well hidden among the bushes and trees that formed almost a barrier to the outside world. Jocelyn and Alicent stepped out, dressed in cloaks with hoods to hide their faces. It was the home of a commonborn Witch named Noelle, and who was said to have the gift of foresight, but she was also infamous for refusing wealhy customers with selfish demands to see what they wanted to be their preferred future or that of relatives. In fact, there was whispers about that she had foreseen Jaehaerys having Viserys as his chosen heir over Rhaenys on the fact of their genders, and this had proven true. 

“Mistress Noelle? There is a customer for you in need of getting some of her fears about her upcoming marriage banished,” Jocelyn asked aloud, knocking on the wooden door to see if the owner was home. 

“Come in and be seated at the table, my ladies,” a faint voice said as the door was opened, revealing a rather old Witch with almost snow white hair set up in a respectable bun and a weather-bitten face. 

The cottage was set up in two rooms, and seemed clamped for those used to wider and far bigger living space, but even Alicent got a feeling that this was intended to feel welcoming to any guests that was not too fussy. 

“I take it that this young Lady is the future second wife of our king? I have heard about it.” 

Seating herself on a rough chair made of a single, thick tree trunk, Jocelyn removed her hood and placed three gold dragon coins on the table. 

“You were kind enough to warn myself, my daughter and son-in-law that my grandson would be of a different character than most youths of his age, so I felt that your gift of foresight may help Miss Alicent about any questions she may have. Perhaps not all of them, as I know that you can not see everything of the future, but a few core questions might be answered, at least?” 

Mistress Noelle nodded at the reminder of how she had foreseen of how young Laenor Valeryon would be drawn to men instead of women, but that he would be blessed with a wife that would see him as a good husband despite that “flaw” of his, according to the traditional view of masculinity here in Westeros among the high lords and nobles. 

“Will I…have children with the King?” Alicent asked nervously, “I want to keep having a good relationship with Princess Rhaenyra despite that we are ten years apart in age and not make her think that I will try placing any child of mine on the Iron Throne, but…” 

Noelle could see what the young Lady Hightower feared. It was a recurring problem in families with step-parents and younger half-siblings who could challenge the children from the first marriage for the inheritance of the shared parent. And even more so in noble families, sadly. 

“If you allow me a few moments.” 

Placing a bowl of water on the table between them and Alicent adding a small drop of her blood from a finger by picking herself with a sewing needle, Noelle began to whisper in the Old Tongue so her magic was awoken. 

“You will have four children with the King, Lady Hightower, and all of them will live to adulthood.” 

Well, that was one thing less to fear, Alicent knew, given how common it was to lose a child in the cradle or young childhood from illness. But she had more questions. 

“If they are both boys and girls…will he insist on marrying them to each other per those horrible incestous traditions from Old Valyria?” 

The brown eyes of Noelle began to glow again as she tried to find the answer in a glimpse of the future. 

“No. The Sisterhood successfully teamed up with the Faith on forbidding those abnormal marriages within the royal family, by bringing up the risk of a new Maegor the Cruel being born to a brother and sister sharing the same set of parents. The King and his brother will remain the last offspring of a marriage between brother and sister.”

Alicent relaxed at hearing that. For her, a native Westerosi who had grown up with being told of how incest was a sin in the eyes of the Seven-Who-are-One, this had been one of her greatest fears with marrying king Viserys. That if she had a son and daughter close in age, they may be forced to marry each other because Rhaenyra may be ten years or even more, at the birth of the first child Alicent would have. If Rhaenyra and a half-brother married, she would waste years of possible pregnancies by waiting for him to mature enough to sire children on her. 

“But you need to watch your two oldest sons, Lady Hightower. The oldest one will take after Prince Daemon and sire bastards outside marriage, as well cause himself to be hastily married to a girl from House Reyne after being caught deflowering her. And the second one, born three years later…he will be the Daemon of his generation, I fear.” 

Alicent paled in horror at those words, and Jocelyn facepalmed while muttering for herself: 

“Damn royalty and their entitled behavior despite people trying to poke holes in their pride and knock some common sense into their heads!” 

“...M-my second and fourth child…what about them?” Alicent asked, fearing some horrible reveal about them as well. 

“Your daughter will be happy as a septa in the Faith to avoid a bad marriage, and your third son will be the most gentle-natured of your three sons, but will require some help in moving out of the shadow of the two older ones.”

Three sons, and a daughter. With this reveal about some of their core personalities, Alicent at least could be ready for how to handle them. Sure, she knew that the boys would be trained by tutors once old enough, but as their mother, surely she would at least have a word in their upbringing? 

“Will Princess Rhaenyra be blessed with children in her own marriage, that can be her own heirs and push my own sons further down the succession line?” 

This time, the water inside the bowl glowed so Alicent could see a scene: 

An adult Rhaenyra, surrounded by…

“Five boys?! She will be blessed indeed with a healthy brood. Aemma will be remembered as the mother of a Queen regnant and grandmother of kings!” Jocelyn exclaimed in surprise as she counted the children of different ages and saw their clothing. 

“Then I will need to try acting against the wishes of my Father, who wants to be the grandfather of a King….” Alicent admitted in a low voice. If Rhaenyra was fated to have five healthy boys, that meant a whole six persons that Otto Hightower would need to remove, if he wanted her oldest son crowned. Not to mention the danger that was Daemon Targaryen, the uncle of both Rhaenyra and her still unborn four children. 

“You would not be the first daughter caught in a such situation, Lady Hightower, between a father and fearing the outcome,” Noelle said, “and given what the inheritage from your husband will be, it will be a difficult fight that risks to caught all of Westeros into the mess as well.” 

That was a warning, plain and clear. It would be difficult, Alicent knew it, but for the sake of peace within Westeros, she needed to make sure that Rhaenyra would not be challenged by her own sons. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

On their return to the Red Keep, both Jocelyn and Alicent pretended to anyone who asked where they had been, that their trip out in the wheelhouse had merely been a private conversation about how it was like to marry into House Targaryen as a bride from a different House. 

“Dowager Lady Jocelyn gave me a lot of good advice on what I need to know about having a Targaryen husband,” Alicent managed to lie with a false smile to Otto, who accepted it. 

“Hm. Better her than Lady Rhea Royne, who is estranged from her royal husband, I guess.”

But with the knowledge of what to come in the future, Alicent saw her father in a different light than before. Just like Prince Daemon, he too craved the crown, but not for himself. Rather, in a more traditional manner to gain power and legacy, by marrying his daughter to a King and hope for a grandson. 

“My future daughter and third son…I must stay strong for their sake, for Mistress Noelle said that they will be the blessings of my unwanted marriage! I do not know yet how to handle the nature of my first and second son, but perhaps I will find a way when they are born…” 

This royal wedding and the crown of a Queen consort was not what Alicent desired, but she knew that running away was out of the question. She had all eyes on her now, as the betrothed of the King, and every movement and spoken word from her would be watched. She needed to keep acting as an obedient daughter who did not cause problems, at least for now, and then carefully try to help strengthen the powerbase of Rhaenyra as the actual heir from the shadows. 

“I need to make plans for several scenarios to come…” 

Even for the worst one, that her oldest and second son might lose their heads as traitors for trying to usurp the Iron Throne from Rhaenyra, if she had managed to place her daughter and third son in a safe life among the Faith before then. 

Chapter Text

While Arne and Tyra were shocked at seeing Gael returning home with not only Rahima, Safiya and Rhea, but with an orphaned Free Folk female toddler who proved to have magical powers despite her tender age, they quickly agreed that it was the smartest choice to do. 

“Witches should be aware of new members as soon as possible, else some form of disasters can happen from a lack of control over the magic…Safiya dear, no!” 

Noticing that his adoptive granddaughter had accidentally set a training dummy of straw on fire with her lava powers as she walked around in joy over being back home, Arne rushed over to pull Safiya away from the risk of getting a few burns. 

“Well, what is this little cutie named, then?” Tyra asked in a tender voice, as Gael adjusted her hold on her adopted daughter. 

“As I do not know her actual name given by her birth parents…it is Aemma after my late niece,” Gael admitted without shame over her choice. And Lady Umber could see why this adopted daughter of hers in all but officially, had chosen that name. Not only would the late Queen Aemma live on in the North with this young witch sharing her name, but it was another way for Gael to show her own rejection of being a member of House Targaryen, rider of Frostfyre or not. 

“May she be blessed with the long life her namesake should have gotten without her too early marriage which ended up taking her from the world too young.”

Thankfully, this little Aemma would not be alone in the nursery, there were several similar-aged grandchildren there, especially at family gatherings where the married daughters of Arne and Tyra came on a visit to their childhood home, and their two oldest sons were married as well. It was only the youngest Umber son, twenty-year-old Harald, who had not yet found a bride or a male lover. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X   

It was to be expected that some of the personal things of Queen Aemma would be spit up at her death. Such as her dresses, which Jocelyn insisted to be inherited by Rhenyra and used as she pleased when being old enough. Besides, the slender Alicent was built differently than Aemma in body shape: Aemma haven't exactly been small in stature, but her constant pregnancies from a early age with little access to losing the pregnancy weight before starting a new one in the demand for a male heir in the form of a son, especially after the birth of Rhaenyra when Aemma was just fifteen years old, had made her more on the plump side. 

“I think the same with her jewelry…I do not want to be a literal replacement of her in her manner of dress, so I want to try bringing out a new fashion after my wedding…” Alicent admitted with unease at how so much of it was dragon-themed in style. Honestly, the late Queen had been an Arryn of the Vale by birth, even with the Targaryen princess Daella as mother, surely there could be something with a falcon in the jewelry boxes?

Books with what was known about the wider world and other cultures, maps of Westeros and Essos, handmade drawings of different people with Gael, Rhea, Jocelyn and Rhaenys among them, music sheets… 

All this being revealed as they went through it all for stuff that Alicent would be able to use without spooking the courtiers, gave Alicent a feeling that Aemma might secretly have longed to travel and see the world with her own eyes, to not spend her whole life in Westeros. 

“Ah…!” Jocelyn suddenly gasped, even turning a little pale, when the maids unwrapped something from a new chest, and the wedding dress of Aemma was revealed. If anything, the size of the dress, with the belonging small shoes, really revealed just how young Aemma had been when getting married to Viserys twelve years ago. The contrast of the small girl's body according to the shape of the wedding dress, and the loose dresses which the same wearer had used in adulthood when being pregnant… 

“ No girl aged just eleven years should stand as a bride! ” 

Grabbing the dress, Jocelyn quickly folded it again and almost tossed it back in the chest which she slammed shut with the lid. But Alicent could tell that with this reaction, the widow had revealed her own uncomfortness about seeing the niece of her husband getting married at that young age. 

“Um…lady Jocelyn, this seems to be a letter?”

As the maid was uneducated in reading or writing, it was understandable that she asked Jocelyn to check if the letter was intended for someone in the royal family or one of the trusted ladies-in-waiting of Aemma who grieved the loss of a good employer. 

“I will take care of this, thank you for noticing it.”

But as she walked past Alicent, the young lady Hightower noticed that something was carefully passed into her hand as Jocelyn pretended to bump into her by looking over her shoulder. And when Alicent looked at the letter, she saw why Jocelyn had done so: 

To my successor as the wedded wife of King Viserys I Targaryen

~X~X~X~X~X~X    

Alicent found a place to be alone out in the Godswood, under the ancient Heart Tree with its face in the truck and red leaves. And it was there, as she read the letter that Aemma had written to the, for her unknown, woman would take her place as Queen consort after her death: 

This is between us two as women. Please, do not be blinded by the “glory” of marrying a Targaryen. The crown is a chain, which bonds us as slaves to risking our lives in the birthing bed.

Even Viserys, who you are going to marry, is not without his negative sides. He is a peaceful man who hates conflict, but his eagerness to please people will come at a horrible cost in showing favoritism. I know this, because while he have refused to set aside the marriage between Daemon and Lady Rhea Royne, he will also not tell his brother to reflect on his own behavior in order to make a effort on changing himself and how Daemon himself may be the troublemaker in the marriage instead of Lady Rhea. To hear My brother-in-law calling his estranged wife a “bronze bitch” within earshot, what a show of disrespect to the point of me wanting to toss a goblet of wine in his face! 

Anyway, I want you to be aware of this flaw of Viserys: I fear that he may come to favorite Rhaenyra, my daughter, over your own possible children on the grounds of a idealized image of myself, a wife those “only” flaws was my lack of more living children outside Rhaenyra and dying  young. This contrast between the idealized image of myself and your living person will likely only grow stronger over the coming years, and indirectly cause Viserys to treat you with less respect than you deserve. 

Please, please, in the mercy of both the Old Gods and the Seven-who-are-One, do not let Viserys slowly kill you by poor treatment in the marriage and the demands of children. Please, do not throw away your own self just to fulfill an expected duty, to become an empty shell of yourself.

I was married at eleven years old to a five years older cousin and was robbed of my own youth before I even could have it. All those dreams of what I wanted to do with my life…was taken from me because my grandparents, Jaehaerys and Alysanne, wanted to keep the Targaryen blood as “pure” as possible, and cousin Rhaenys was believed to not let Viserys be the dominant half of the marriage. Corlys may be 21 years older than Rhaenys, but even I can see that this age difference between them is not the disaster as so often happens in such marriages.

Please…do not let yourself be forgotten in history outside the family tree just because you are not a Targaryen by birth. Please, do not let Viserys ruin your whole life just because you are marrying him. Please, try to find a way to remain true to yourself, the real you, beyond what everyone expects from you. 

Aemma Arryn 

The fact that Aemma had signed with her maiden name, and not her married one as the Queen consort, revealed how this letter came from the girl who had been robbed of her life, because of who her own mother Daella had been prior to her own marriage. And Alicent could see what this letter truly was: 

A warning from beyond the grave, with Aemma fearing that no matter who Viserys married as his second wife, her husband would always view herself in an idealized light due to her death and always compare his two wives to each other. Just like Aemma herself had been with her grandmother Alysanne, especially with the outcome of their pregnancies. 

“I will heed this warning from you, Aemma, and I will not let myself be silenced!” 

Alicent aimed to keep her personal promise in ensuring that Rhaenyra was not replaced by one of her foretold sons as heir to the Iron Throne, but with this written warning from beyond the grave, she also knew another thing to always be aware of: 

To be forced into the role of a passive, quiet doll who hid her true emotions behind a forced smile and secretly resented that her main role was to bear the children of her royal husband. 

Chapter Text

Early sixth month of year 106 AC, the Riverlands: 

It was well known that Harrenhal was a strictly forbidden place. Even as a ruin, no one could miss the feeling of being watched by unseeing eyes, and those who spent the night there for whatever reason, swore to hear the faint echoes of screaming women in the air, pleading for mercy, death or cursing the one who tortured them. After all, Harren the Black and his infamous Witch Queen had sacrificed captured members of not only the Riverlands Coven, but from the other covens as well, to the Drowned God in order to make Harrenhal a magical castle. 

The families who was named Lords of Harrenhal by the royal family, had to accept it as a noble title but no place of living, because the Sisterhood had placed a united magical barrier around the massive castle ruins to keep people out from the ruins, and among the commoners, the fact that the whole Sisterhood had teamed up to create this barrier, was a sign of that the legacy of Harren the Black and his Witch Queen was so horrible that the witches across Westeros honestly wanted to prevent a repeat. 

“Alys! Alys, please do not go near or touch the barrier around the castle! I do not want you to be caught in the united power of the witches who created it! Remember the tales of fools who died from it, all because they dismissed the rumors and tried to prove that it was nothing dangerous past that glowing line on the ground!” 

The seventeen-year-old, black-haired young woman took away her glare from the ruins, and hurried back to her mother, with an honest apology for not staying closer. 

“I am sorry, mother. I just wanted to see if there was anything to report to the Riverlands coven about something seeming odd. Someone sneaking around to find a weak spot in the barrier would be an alarming troublemaker.” 

Alys was a normal woman, born without any magical powers in a perfectly ordinary family of farmers who had a little extra income in the form of medicinal herbs that could be sold as medicine or exchanged for other goods for survival, but she had heard about another way to become useful for the Sisterhood despite this handicap: Becoming a part of a information network for the witches which span across all of Westeros, in case there was a problem more suitable for a witch with different powers than the nearest local witch or a need of more allies in case it was really bad. 

“Oh, you have that sort of goal, to be helpful! Yes, it is a good thing to aim for, but remember to not not invent something false just to have something to report! That is causing trouble for the Sisterhood, and you will come off as an attention-seeking liar if it happens too many times…”   

Alys nodded as a sign of listening to every word her worried mother said as they returned to picking herbs that they could season their meals with. Her mother meant well, and that sort of negative reputation wasn't something Alys wanted, either. It was bad enough that her father was unlucky enough to be a bastard by some noble that barely had cared about his natural son compared to the legal children he had with his lawful wife, aka why he was called Rivers as a surname, and Alys had faced mockery over this as well. 

Suddenly there was a roar in the air above them, and an unusual shape flew past the mother and daughter pair, clearly visible against the blue sky. 

“White, that sort of shape and sound…it must be Mistress Gael and her dragon!” 

Almost like proof of what Alys had guessed, a few snow crystals fell over them, though normally an Ice witch like Gael would be careful to not leave any trace of herself around. 

“Someone is flying down here.”  

It turned out to be no one else than Hildegard Baratheon who arrived at the ground in front of the two women. Even without the sign of her House on her clothing, it was impossible to miss her signature wind powers and that black hair. If that alone did not reveal Hildegard, her Stormlands accent in the manner of nobles would have been a hint. 

“Alys? Would you perhaps be…interested in expanding our secret network of contacts inside the Red Keep itself, while also helping the Sisterhood try to prevent another young woman's life from being ruined at the hands of the royal family? By using that few people pay attention to a lady's maid and that even a Queen needs servants to help care for herself and her belongings? Mistress Agnes is already using her powers as a Tread Witch to pose herself as a seamstress if needed, but more eyes and ears are always useful when a witch can not reveal herself.” 

Alys was smart despite having no education in reading and writing. She could already see why the Sisterhood aimed to have a commoner act in this role, because without a formal title or higher social rank, this spy for the Sisterhood would be able to blend in among the rest of the servants in the Red Keep. Besides, Alicent Hightower herself was not even twenty years old, it would be natural if she wanted servants around her own age. 

“Sometimes an honest friend is the best thing needed in a difficult situation. Someone with an outsider view, and is not naive about how the world works.” 

With this answer, Alys had accepted the offer. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X      

The day before Rhaenyra's ninth birthday:

Seeing the thirteen-year-old Laena on the back of the massive Vhagar as they flew around above the Red Keep still made Rhaenys wonder. Her daughter, somehow managing to claim the last of the dragons which had witnessed the Conquest, who could have imagined that? Her daughter, being only twelve years nine months ago, and yet succeeding in what others had only dreamed about. Given how old Vhagar was already now, perhaps Laena was fated to be her last rider.  

“I just hope that she will not have the same history as myself when it comes to her own children…” 

Despite it being nearly a whole year since her last loss in the cradle where she and Corlys had lost a second daughter only days after her birth, Rhaenys still felt an empty hole inside herself. The best Healer Witches had confirmed that it was the Targaryen inbreeding messing up the health of their babies, and that both Laena and Laenor had been the lucky ones so far.

“Mistress Noelle, am I…fated to have just my two first children? How much grief over lost children in my womb and the cradle do we have to suffer, because we wanted more offspring to keep Driftmark within the family?”

“Lord Corlys will give you a special birthday gift, the same day you turn forty, Lady of Driftmark. But your prayers for more surviving children shall be heard.” 

That had been the only clue Rhaenys had gotten as a sign that they should not give up yet. It would take more years of trying, and many tears, without doubt, but both she and Corlys had felt a small glimmer of hope at those words.

“Besides, better a similar-aged suitor from Braavos than Viserys, my own cousin…the son of the Sealord of Braavos is not a bad match, as long as he does not turn out to be horrible in character or with bad flaws that could pose a threat to Driftmark itself.”

Rhaenys knew about the gossip that she and Corlys felt insulted over Viserys choosing Alicent Hightower as his new bride than their own daughter, but in truth, they both recalled the sight of seeing Aemma standing as a bride at age eleven, a child forced into the role of a more grown woman too early, and how the pressing expectations to give Viserys a son started almost as soon as she had flowered, had ruined her life to the point that aunt Gael had needed to give Aemma the gift of mercy just to put a final end to Aemma risking her life in the birthing bed just for that son tradition demanded of her. No, their own daughter would be spared from that fate, Lord and Lady Velaryon had agreed, and instead be wed when she was past sixteen. 

“Maybe we need to take a break from trying to have more children, for now…so my body can rest and be strong, if that gift from Corlys on my 40th birthday will finally be another child that does not die in the cradle…” 

On the other hand, eleven-year-old Laenor and Seasmoke had flown a bit away from the city for some peace and quiet. 

“No, Seasmoke, you are a perfectly good size for me despite that we do not fly that often. Vhagar is scary because of how easily she would be able to eat me as a snack!” Laenor assured his pale silver-grey dragon, giving Seasmoke a treat in the form of a fresh fish for the dragon to first roast with some fire and then eat. It was not that Seasmoke was still too young to be ridden, or that Laenor was scared of flying, they simply had found a different hobby in the form of swimming in the ocean together back when Seasmoke had been a hatchling still small enough to sit on the shoulder of Laenor.  

“Come on, boy, let's swim!” 

Undressing himself sans his braies for the sake of decency because he was not home at Driftmark and then carefully hiding his fine clothing between some rocks where no one would be able to steal them, Laenor climbed up on the neck of Seasmoke. 

“Ready? Go!”  

Swimming like this with Seasmoke, was best done without the leather saddle which risked being ruined by the salt water if done too many times, so instead Laenor used a long rope around the neck of his dragon to hold on to, as Seasmoke dove into the deep. 

“Wow….so fast!” 

It was good training for him about holding his own breath while swimming in the deeper sea as well, and Laenor trusted Seasmoke to get back to the surface when his dragon needed air as well after swimming as fast as the dragon could do in the currents. After all, Seasmoke was a flying dragon intended for air, not a legendary sea dragon that lived in the dark and unknown depths of the sea.

“Great work, Seasmoke!” the young heir to Driftmark cheered as his dragon broke the surface and managed to get them both up in the air again, “Soon we will be able to surprise everyone by swimming under the surface like this! It could be a secret skill we may use one day!”

Seasmoke roared, and made a spinning movement back into the sea water so Laenor had to hold on to the rope for dear life. Breaking the surface again with a prey caught between his teeth, the dragon tossed up a large fish in the air, which he roasted with a flame and then swallowed in one bite. 

“Glutton!” Laenor scolded, knowing that Seasmoke would only ignore him anyway, “No wonder Father insisted on that you, Vhagar and Meleys should be used to eating fish because Driftmark have a limited amount of wild game and the farmers would not be happy with either of you dragons stealing the livestock for your own food!”

~X~X~X~X~X~X     

On the following morning, prior to the midday banquet with all the important Lords arriving from all of Westeros, Viserys witnessed how Lord Rickon Stark and the other Northern nobles swore solemn oaths to defend her rights of succession and that Rhaenyra was his true heir. After all, the long travel distance between the North and  King's Landing had made it impossible for the Northerners to be present at the lavish ceremony, once the mourning period for the late Queen Aemma was over, where Viserys had Rhaenyra declared the heir and Princess of Dragonstone instead of his brother Daemon, half a year earlier. 

“It is so hot here in the south…” Lady Gilliane Stark neé Glover whispered to Lady Tyra Umber as she fanned herself with a fan generously borrowed from Jocelyn, feeling uncomfortable with the indoor temperature with so many people gathered in the Throne Chamber. The Northerners had listened to a warning from Gael about the different climate compared to the North, but many did secretly agree with Lady Stark that it would have been a lot more pleasant if they had been outdoors. 

“Yes, Gael, Jeyne and Hildegard teaming up for some gentle, cold winds in here would have been wonderful…” 

But Hildegard was present as the heiress to House Baratheon and future Lady of Storm's End, not as a member of the Stormlands Coven. She and Boremund hoped to use both the birthday celebrations of Princess Rhaenyra and the incoming wedding of King Viserys to Alicent as a opportunity to meet as many suitors as possible, in the hope of finding a decent husband to Hildegard that would not try to steal her position as Head of House Baratheon. 

“Jeyne, are you feeling bored about having to be here as the reigning Lady of the Eyrie?” Rhea gently asked the eleven-year-old Lady Arryn, who showed all the signs of not enjoying it that it was more adults than children her own age here. 

“I wanted to try a new spell with air magic that could foreshadow what weather it could be over a day.” 

Almost like a blessing from the Gods themselves to keep her position strong and present other distant Arryn relatives from claiming her inheritage on the grounds of her young age and gender, Jeyne had revealed herself as a Air Witch not long after that she had been orphaned, and most people in the Vale knew better than trying to replace a Witch heiress with someone else. 

“I do not blame you for wanting to do something more fun than this. And if my so-called husband starts insulting the Vale again, feel free to make him pass out from suddenly not breathing. Just do not kill him yet, it would be a poor omen with a dead relative on a day like this.” 

Jeyne was already glaring towards Daemon with Rhea as a shield to partly hide herself, and made use of the suggestion by making a big Targaryen banner suddenly fall down over him without warning. 

The midday banquet was impressive with many expensive spices and food dishes that only the elite in Westeros could enjoy, as worthy of a royal heir to the Iron Throne. 

“This is almost too much…” 

Alicent was used to this sort of feasts since she first had came to the royal court in 101 AC when her father had been chosen as the new Hand of the King by the late King Jaehaerys, but in light of that she would soon become the new Queen, she had began to look at it a little bit different due to the more pious side of her personality, as the Faith of the Seven-who-are-One had been a comfort for her ever since her own mother had died not long before the Old King. 

“More than half of this amount of food…could have been served as almsgiving to the poor that are struggling to put enough food on the table for their families even in times of good harvests, and been used as a way to have Rhaenyra gain support among the commoners as well…” 

By pure luck, this was exactly what Gilliane and Tyra spoke about, from their seats beside their husbands. 

“Honestly. How much of this food is going to be wasted because it will not be eaten? Giving it to the poor would be better.”

“Especially orphanages and other places where they may be depending on almsgiving in order to have enough food, even with the Faith trying to help…” 

Suddenly, there were some guards and their commander running inside. 

“Your Majesty, King Viserys! Princess Gael Targaryen and other members of the Sisterhood have been seen…!” 

The commander was knocked over by Tyra tossing one of her finest bronze hairpins on him. It was not intended to harm him, but rather to correct how he had addressed her foster daughter. 

“It is Mistress Gael, you ignorant fool! Is it so hard for people to remember that she renounced her royal titles and any claim of her own to the Iron Throne as the youngest daughter of Jaehaerys and Alysanne, upon coming of age?!” 

From her seat among the other Vale nobles, next to Jeyne, Rhea hid a smirk behind her wine goblet. 

“This is going to be fun, I bet that Gael has a plan to remind the Targaryens that the Sisterhood are very much still alive and dangerous in their own way. Especially as they generally have not sworn oaths of obedience to any Lord or King, and act as an independent force to keep peace.”

Hildegard and Jeyne shared a look from their seats, and then left the tables to meet their fellow magical “sisters”. 

 ~X~X~X~X~X~X 

Not far from King's Landing: 

With the Northern Coven flying around her, Gael had chosen to ride Frostfyre for a better impression.

“Why can't I and Aemma fly with Mama, aunt Rahima?” Safiya asked, where the Dornish Witch had the young girls with her. 

“If King Viserys or Prince Daemon sees you two with Gael, or hears her being addressed as your mother, there will be some… troublesome questions since she officially is not married. After all, she does not want people to talk about who your father is, or whatever Aemma is sired by someone from the Free Folk. The nobles would be quick to notice that you and Aemma look very different from each other.” 

This caught the attention of Safiya. Gael had explained to her daughter that by Westerosi standards, she was unmarried, and would, in the best case, be seen as a concubine or mistress to Jochi, because they had not sworn any marriage oaths to each other and did not live together. In short, Safiya risked to be seen as a bastard if her existence ever was revealed to the Targaryens outside aunt Saera and her three sons who lived in Volantis.  

“But Mama got her gold earrings from Papa as a sign that she is under the protection of his tribe after my birth! Aunt Sarkan said that they are marking Mama as a secondary wife of Papa if she so wishes to view herself as that!” The seven-year-old protested loudly in confusion, because a Dothraki Khal could have secondary wives as part of a tradition of polygamy to strengthen ties between various clans, but his khaleesi remained the most important wife no matter how many secondary wives below her, and almost woke up her now two-year-old adopted sister inside the bag on Rahima's back. 

“This is not the time for that talk now while we are still flying, Safiya!”  

“Ma?” Aemma wondered in a sleepy voice, feeling by the air on her face that they were still flying.  

“Come on, everyone!” We are almost there!” 

Seeing the capital come closer for every moment, Gael removed the cloak she had been wearing, revealing herself to be wearing a deel, the traditional Dothraki clothing, made from green-coloured cotton fabric and embroidered with a pattern of white snow crystals. She had chosen to wear this for two reasons; first to once again show herself as different from the other Targaryens, and to reveal that she actually was familiar with the cultures of Essos, and not merely staying in the North or other places in Westeros all the time. 

“You are going to draw much attention by your choice of clothing, beloved,” Rahima commented, and Gael responded while setting up her hair with some hair pins crafted out of ice: 

“I am well-traveled, not stuck at the same place my whole life like Viserys out of my personal comfort, or trying to show myself as better than everyone else just because I have a dragon, like Daemon.” 

A rather good summary of her two nephews, actually. 

The roars of the dragons were heard from the Dragonpit, and out in the city itself, the common people had also focused their attention on the new dragon that was coming closer. 

“Hurry! Hurry!” 

“Give the Sisterhood a proper greeting as we do in the North and beyond the Wall!”  

“Show those southerners how the Sisterhood should be welcomed!” 

The gathered northern soldiers who had come along as an armed escort of the northern Lords and Ladies, had quickly abandoned their meal upon hearing that the Sisterhood was coming. Now, they did the same action as they would do whatever the Northern Coven would gather in a place with many of the nobles. 

“Move it! Make some extra space in case Mistress Gael rides in on Frostfyre on the castle yard like she sometimes does in Winterfell!” 

Grabbing the banners of each Northern House, the soldiers stood in two ranks, face to face with a wide distance between them. A few soldiers with drums and horns stood ready, and began to sound those as Frostfyre landed exactly where they had cleaned some space, the other witches lowering their brooms for a landing around the Ice dragon.

“Welcome, United Bane of the Others and Protectors of Westeros! ” 

While all this happened, Jeyne and Hildegard had also arrived at the grand stairs leading inside to the Red Keep, using this moment to carry their own black, topped hats as a sign of being members of the Sisterhood.  

“A good time to show how many our numbers actually are, even if not everyone could come for various reasons.”

For the nobles, who were mostly used to perhaps meeting the witches of a single Coven or the witches born in noble families, the gathered number of witches present was going to be a shock. After all, almost 90 percent of the Sisterhood was made up by commoner-born witches, itself a symbol that the smallfolk made up most of the population of Westeros. 

Chapter Text

As Ice Dragons was very different in nature than the Valyrian breeds of dragons, so did Frostfyre give a warning roar to all the present dragons about not being in a mood for mating right now and that if any of them wanted a fight, they would get their ass kicked, by dragon ways of doing so. Even Vhagar seemed to almost view her as a worthy opponent, at least in terms of size. 

“Frostfyre, go and hunt,” Gael ordered in the Old Tongue, hoping to avoid a possible fight between the dragons. Sending a warning flame towards Caraxes to not get any funny ideas, the almost pure white she-dragon did so. 

To his credit, Viserys did his best to be a good host to the unexpected number of female guests when he came out in the courtyard. 

“We wanted our arrival to be a surprise, not merely for the court, but for the people as well, dear nephew,” Gael responded to him with a light curtsy, refusing to let her foster family be viewed as not teaching her suitable manners for the noble families at all. 

“Is there anything I can do for you ladies?” Viserys asked, hoping to buy enough time for the staff in the Red Keep to quickly make a change of plans for today. 

”No need, Sire, because it looks like Frostfyre is already giving us a major help in making a charity so the people can share in the celebration of your daughter's birthday,” Hildegard said, and everyone looked up to see the massive shadow pass over the capital again when the Ice Dragon returned from the deeper parts of the Blackwater Bay, having caught a whole, almost fully grown whale as her prey in her claws. 

“If you excuse us, Viserys, we have a big fish to cook into charity meals for those who can not afford a rich variety of meals.” 

But Daemon had noticed how Rhea had smiled at Gael, and now hissed to his estranged wife as Rhea was about to walk past him: 

“So you would prefer to bed my aunt over myself? Is it women that you prefer, bronze bitch?” 

Yet Rhea was not impressed with his attempts of trying to find a reason for them to get their marriage annulled. She had explained her reasons to the High Septon, and to her surprise, the leader of the Faith did agree that if Daemon got married to a new wife, he would become even more dangerous by having his own possible heir to the Iron Throne. 

“Go and fuck some sheep, or why not Caraxes since you like to ride him so much. ”

Hearing the comment, and seeing the furious glares between them, Rahima brusted a big water bubble over Daemon without getting the nice dress of Rhea wet. 

“Daemon, if you insist on acting like a child despite being a grown man already, then go to your chamber and stop trying to ruin the mood for everyone else,” Jocelyn commented with a similar unimpressed glare at him.

~X~X~X~X~X~X    

Unlike the gathered nobles, the common people were much more welcome towards the Sisterhood, because the High Septon and many others in the Faith knew that the witches was helping with social problems often ignored by the Lords or somehow proving to be a challenge too difficult for the Faith to solve in a peaceful manner. And merchants from both Westeros and the Free Cities of Essos saw a chance to make a good investment, when the various Covens revealed themselves to have brought a lot of items with them that could be sold or traded. 

“May the Seven-who-are-One bless your charity and give the Princess Rhaenyra a good start of being the heir,” the High Septon said, walking around himself to see what was happening on the field that had been intended for a tourney but now changed into a massive feeding place for the poor. 

“Thank you, Your Holiness. It may be the birthday of the heir to the Iron Throne today, but it seems like King Viserys unfortunately forgot that it is deeds like this that give a deeper impression and help the poor in society. Focusing solely on the nobles is…not always the wisest idea.” 

Among other things, Gael created a small ice lake, and now the people of the North took the chance to show off some of their culture by ice-skating and what could be done with this. Such as figure skating, barrel jumping and even the art of dancing as a couple on the ice like it was done in a ball room. 

“Do not do any ice duels, please!” Arne reminded his sons, referring to the sport which could become known as hockey by future generations but naturally had a very different name in this era. 

“Yes, father!” 

Naturally, the noble children did not want the commoner children to have all the fun by testing ice skates, and Laenor proved to be quite a natural when he figured out how to keep his balance without help. 

“Now that is a graceful lad you have been blessed with, Lord  and Lady Velaryon!”

Rhaenyra also tried with Laena as support, but soon she wanted to skate on her own. 

“You sure on that, Princess?”

“Yes, now let go of me!” 

Alas, Laena proved to be right in the hesitation to let go of Rhaenyra's hands. The birthday girl realized her mistake pretty quickly, when she suddenly moved forward at a very high speed. 

“Aaaaaah!” 

Waving with her arms in growing panic, she could not stop herself. Others hurried out of the way when spotting her, and she slammed into Laenor so both of them slid along the frozen water. 

“Oh, seven hells!” 

Proving himself to not be so hopeless on the ice skates as well, Harwin Strong turned around and saw that the two younger children were about to crash in not only into him, but also into a large drift of snow that Gael had formed around the temporary lake to avoid major damage to anyone, and he ended up below them when all three slid into the snow. 

“Nice catch there, Ser Harwin!” Jeyne Arryn called, as several servants hurried over to get the three nobles back up on their fleet. 

Obeying the order of Gael to not be seen around her unless Rahima was with them, Safiya enjoyed some freshly made ice-cream, made by her mother chilling fruit purees and cream which had been mixed together, with Aemma and some other children from Flea Bottom. Given how ice-cream was a real luxury food that only the rich could usually get served on their tables, the poor families took the chance to enjoy the cold dessert which really came into its own in the summer heat, eating slowly so as to enjoy it for as long as possible.

“The Rogue Prince is being mean to his legal wife again,” one of the boys commented on seeing Daemon arrive on horseback, now dressed in a different set of fine clothing. 

“How can he say that she is ugly? She looks really nice even if she naturally may not be the most stunning beauty around, and her charitable donations are well known.”

In fact, Daemon again showed that a handsome appearance did not always mean a good personality as well, as proved when Gael and Rhea made a show of dancing really gracefully together on the improvised frozen lake so everyone could see them. 

“Stop stealing attention whatever you are coming to the south, aunt!” 

And Gael did not like how he grabbed her arm like that, the moment she and Rhea stepped off the lake. 

“Watch it, Daemon, or I will really make you impotent for the rest of your life so you will never have any children! ” she growled dangerously, raising her magical staff made out of white weirwood above their heads as if she aimed to strike him. In fact, her normally purple eyes suddenly changed color as she growled this warning, becoming a cold sapphire blue around her pupils, a thin layer of ice crystals suddenly covering Daemon and making his hand numb. 

“You dare to threaten something such to a member of the royal family, damned bitch…ow, ow, ow!” 

Safiya has rushed over at spotting her mother being in trouble, dragging Aemma with her by still holding hands, and now burned the soles of the shoes and socks that Daemon wore, effectively burning his feet by making a small part of lava in the ground below him. Gael used the moment to slam the upper part of her staff down on the ground, the carved holes in the wood with pieces of shell and bone mimicking the same noise as a distressed Ice Dragon hatching would do to let the mother know that it was in danger.

“Gael! Watch your powers!” one of the Free Folk witches warned in alarm at feeling the temperature drop very quickly, knowing that they needed to avoid a possible disaster. Besides, if Gael called on Frostfyre though that little invention of hers…

“If you want to dance that much, Daemon, then do it with Frostfyre teaching you the needed speed!” 

Showing herself to be stronger built than what she looked, Gael twisted herself around and threw him out in the middle of the improvised frozen lake, and given that Frostfyre was quite protective of Gael like she was a hatching of her own, the she-dragon naturally viewed it as a threat when she heard the noise from Gael's staff. 

“Daemon, get off the ice!” 

Sending off a white flame from her mouth, Frostfyre almost roasted Daemon, had not Caraxes also arrived at sensing his rider being in danger and now a fight broke out between the two dragons. 

“Daemon, just go to your chamber and please stay there for the rest of the day!” Rhaenys groaned as the horrified Alicent covered her mouth in fear that people would be injured by the two dragons, her request indirectly done by Agnes who revealed herself ad a Thread witch by sewing Daemon up in several pieces of sackcloth like he was a mummified body sans his head and fleet, and then dragged him along the ground all the way to his chamber in the Red Keep by pointing her staff against the royal castle, not too gently of course, and made a spell on the cloth so Daemon would not be freed of them until the following morning.

“Get up in the air and stay away from us humans so no one gets crushed, thank you!” Hildegard yelled, joining up with Jeyne and other Weather Witches with the ability to control air, forcing the two dragons far above the capital. Well up in the air, Frostfyre began to chase Caraxes around, quickly showing why she was a very well-matched spiritual animal to Gael. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Without Daemon around to cause trouble and Frostfyre sending the defeated Caraxes back into the Dragonpit with his tail between his legs like a dog, the more peaceful mood returned and some more pleasant reveals happened. 

“Oh, Boremund, look! You seem to have a possible choice for a son-in-law there!” Jocelyn smiled at her brother, who looked around to see Hildegard dance with Harald Umber, the youngest son of Lord and Lady Umber. 

“Well, he is only two years older than her, and from a well-known noble family in the North, so I have no problems with him being the third and youngest son, as both his brothers and the three sisters are all married with their own children…” 

The current Lord Baratheon had long wondered if there could be more trade made between the North and the Stormlands as a result of a Stark-Baratheon marriage, or with some of the bannermen families under House Stark. As Lord Rickard Stark was rather freshly married to his Gilliane, the wedding having stood at the beginning of the year, they were undoubtedly working on getting their first child but it was way too early to suggest a match. Perhaps Hildegard would have better luck in offering a child to House Stark in marriage, at some point in the future. 

As for their part, many witches took the chance to talk a little with Alicent, asking her about her views on things and what she intended to do, now that Noelle kindly had let her know some part of the future about her children with Viserys. 

“I will try to raise them to respect Rhaenyra as the heir, but with my father…I fear that he will insist on following tradition, with a son succeeding his father, especially as I now know that three of my children will be sons…” 

Quite a few glares were sent towards Otto Hightower, where the Hand of the King was talking about something with Viserys. 

“Stuck between a rock and a hard place, indeed. But Princess Rhaenyra herself will affect things, with her own behavior and the results of it.” 

In fact, there was a secret worry between them about that Viserys would show paternal favoritism towards Rhaenyra as the only surviving child of Aemma, which the late Queen herself had mentioned in her secret letter to Alicent, and that this would affect his younger children born from Alicent in a negative way. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

At the end of the day, the gathered members of the Sisterhood agreed that while some things could have gone better, their main goal of showing their almost complete number of the Covens together, had gone well. 

“The nobles always seem to forget that there are more witches than just the ones born within their own social ranks.” 

“The smallfolk outnumber the nobles, of course it is going to be the same in the Sisterhood.” 

But the Senior Witches also took the chance to check on something with Gael, after the earlier fight with Daemon today. Removing her deel, Gael allowed them to look over a very complex tattoo on her back. 

“The tattoo to stabilize your control over your powers is still intact, thankfully. If it had broken, it would have become dangerous.”

“Would Mama have risked freezing everything around if the tattoo had broken?” Safiya asked in alarm over what the old women over sixty years of age were talking about. 

“The power of an Ice Witch over cold temperatures can become dangerous, yes. In fact, they are the only Witches among us who possibly can reach something that is only talked about in legends: Absolute zero, a temperature so low that no life can exist. It is said that this was how the First Witches united their powers to strengthen the magic of the First Ice Witch, to stop the Others and wiping them out of existence by annihilating them once they were unable to move due to the extreme cold.”

Gael had needed the tattoo to stabilize her magical powers, as proven by how she froze everything in the royal nursery in the Red Keep while still a baby in the cradle. The tattoo helped her to not harm any living being unless she actually desired it, and would also give her a quick, merciful death in the form of a heart attack if she became another victim of insanity caused by using magic too often, which was why the witches in the Sisterhood preferred to use non-magical means to solve problems whenever possible.

“Safiya. This is why I rarely use my magic, and why I am teaching you and Aemma to do the same. Using magic has a cost, and can become dangerous even for a witch.”

Hugging her two daughters to comfort them, Gael used it as a way of showing that she was fine, at least for now. 

“And that is why we all try to help your Mama from causing herself harm.”

“Rahima!” Gael protested in a affectionable manner to her lover, and none of the other witches made a protest about it. 

In the Red Keep: 

Despite that she still felt uncomfortable about marrying the King and what this future would hold for her, Alicent knew that she at least had allies with her. Sure, they would not always be able to rush to her help straight away, but she would not be alone with the struggles of balancing the whole “Rhaenyra as the desired heir VS tradition with male heirs in the form of sons” which was bound to happen in some form. 

“Alys, are you really fine with serving me as a maid?”

The Riverlands woman stopped in helping Alicent to undress for the night.  

“If I can be your extra eyes and ears among the servants, as well helping the Sisterhood, this is the best position I can get.”

They had only met today, but had already found a connection in the form of their pious natures and being normal women born without magic, despite the differences in social status at birth.  

Chapter Text

It was now mere days before the second wedding of Viserys, this time with Alicent Hightower standing as the bride. But Gael had no intention to be there sans a conversation with the bride just before the ceremony, because she did not want to have people stare at her and whisper about her presence being a bad omen again.     

“Alright, children, this is a great chance to see how ceremonies to the Faith of the Seven are done. Weddings are one of the most important events for humans, so it is a wise movement to witness the differences from the wedding ceremonies done up in the North,” Tyra explained to the group of grandchildren standing around her, all watching with great eyes on the sept and seeing how it indeed was made in a different style than in White Harbour. 

Despite having been raised in the faith of the Old Gods, a rather natural result of House Umber being from the North, Gael was somewhat familiar with the teachings of the Faith of the Seven as well. Not only due to House Manderly who ruled White Harbor, but also thanks to her late sister Maegelle, who had been a septa until she died in 96 A.C, after catching greyscale from nursing children with it. And now Saera, the other black sheep of the sisters, was the only one still alive. She had only met Vaegon once, not long after her failed attempt to more or less steal away Aemma with the blessing of Lord Rodrik Arryn to prevent her niece to stand as a very young bride, but that single meeting with his infamous lack of tact and social skills had resulted for Gael to literally refuse to have anything to do with her sole suriving brother again.   

“To understand customs and traditions across Westeros, the different gods need to be studied too. A successful witch knows how to behave with respect around those who believe in a different faith than herself, even if there are things which she may secretly disagree with. Remember how the people of your father do different ceremonies?” Gael added especially to Safiya, who nodded when remembering the various religious rites among the Dothraki which she had witnessed. 

“And we did make a Free Folk naming tradition to show that Aemma would have her name after my niece.” 

Even with the presence of the Sisterhood, infant mortality was still common no matter where one was in Westeros, especially beyond the Wall due to the harsh environment and as such, every surviving child was treasured by those who knew better than rejecting a new life. Among the Free Folk, a naming ceremony was held when a child was two years old, to symbolize that it had survived the dangerous first year of life where so many infants could be lost in the cradle for various reasons. That was when the parents, guardians or other people raising the child, would give the child an official name instead of the temporary milk name or nickname prior to the ceremony. Since Gael had adopted a Free Folk member, she had done the naming ceremony to show that her Aemma would not be raised in ignorance of her true origins. 

“It smells different than home,” Aemma said from her place in the arms of Gael, referring to the incense and scented wax candles that were used in a grand sept like this. With her being born blind, it was only natural that she used her other senses instead. And with home, she referred to Last Hearth.   

“Yes, is it too strong for your nose, dear?” 

Being such a young child, Aemma was pretty honest about things and made an unhappy face in response. 

“It stinks!” 

Thankfully, the Umber family was mostly alone for now, because the comment from Aemma would not have been viewed kindly by some people who came to visit the sept. 

“Mistress Gael? The High Septon wishes to meet you, if it is possible?” a septa asked when finding them. Handing Aemma to Tyra, Gael promised to return soon. 

In front of the Crone, Ser Theomore Manderly, grandson of the Lord Manderly with the same name, was praying that Viserys would not repeat the same disastrous marriage matches that the late King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne had done for their young daughters. 

“My late grandfather was horrified over the misunderstanding that Princess Viserra would be sent to White Harbor as his fifth bride with that huge age gap between them, when he did actually ask her hand in marriage for me, because we were closer in age…” 

Theomore was not that close to become head of his House, being a younger branch of House Manderly, but he had been trained as a knight to serve his family as a soldier in times of conflicts and this was what had indirectly led to him meeting princess Viserra in 86 AC when visiting the capital to buy grain so sow in the next spring, admitting to her that he was not the heir but would she perhaps like to use a possible marriage between them to get a better chance to get more familiar with Gael, who was fostered by House Umber? 

“I am really sorry for how you ended up dying after getting a personal letter from grandfather which explained which bridegroom you would actually have, sweet Viserra…” 

Unlike their father, the younger Targaryen princesses had actually wanted to have a sibling bond with Gael, and their acting out was a plan to make him want them married off to husbands that lived closer to the North so they got away from him and Alysanne, whose parenting beyond the “golden trio” of Aemon, Baelon and Alyssa was highly questionable, even by the standards of Westeros. In truth, Lord Rodrik Arryn had been surprised by Daella mentioning him as a possible husband, and this was partly out of the simple reveal that Rodrik never made fun of Daella for her struggles in learning how to read or write properly, or dismissing her as weak-willed. In fact, it was Rodrik once making a point of loudly scolding Prince Vaegon for his horrible lack of tact towards Daella after that the prince had made a insulting comment about his sister's intelligence again, that had proved the freshly widowed Lord Arryn to not be the sort of man who would lust after the twenty years younger princess on the grounds of her youth, but not tolerating bullying of those who was weaker or smaller.  

“Seven-that-is-One, I pray on behalf of the yet unborn children of Lady Alicent, that their father shall learn a lesson from the disastrous marriage matches of his aunts and that none of them shall end up dying for it…” 

The mere imagination of how it would be in seven years, when Rhaenyra came of age at sixteen and would be expected to marry, was bad enough. Theomore did not doubt that Alicent would try to prevent her stepdaughter from getting married off at a very young age, not long after that she began to have her monthly visitor as a sign of becoming a maiden, especially in light of how young the late Queen Aemma had been when marrying her cousin. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X  

The current High Septon was younger than what many would have expected of him, but he was born the same year as Maegelle, and had joined the Faith for the same reason, being given to the Faith as a sign of the parents wanting to thank the gods for a good number of surviving children being born in the marriage.  

“You called for me, master Torgrim?”  

The High Septon slowly turned at hearing her voice, a small hint of humor in his eyes. 

“Surely you know that calling a High Septon by their birth name is not appreciated, mistress Gaia.” 

Oh, he was playing that game with her again, huh? Gael was not surprised, however, because quite a few important people in her life had questioned whatever either Alysanne or Jaehaerys even had bothered to think much about her name or the spelling of its letters, because in some thicker accents among the smallfolk, it came alarmingly close to sounding like “gruel”, like she had been named for a food dish out of laziness from her parents or them plainly lacking any imagination for more baby names in the Valyrian tongue after ending up with no less than thirteen children! It was why Torgrim had started to address her as Gaia instead, after their first meeting when Gael had been the same age as Safiya was right now, despite Maegelle warning him about that Jaehaerys and Alysanne would not like to learn about this supposed misnaming of their youngest child. 

“My apologies, Your Holiness.”  

Seating themselves at the small table so they faced each other, the mood changed at once. 

“The Sisterhood are not comfortable with the King remarrying despite the rather justified reason that he has only one surviving child from the late queen Aemma,” Torgrim stated in a serious voice.  

“Correct. We fear that will lead to a succession crisis in the future, for even with oaths sworn to defend the claim of Princess Rhaenyra to the Iron Throne, King Viserys siring children in his second marriage, risks to make it seem like he actually would prefer a son to succeed him despite what he have said about making his daughter the first Queen regnant of the Targaryen dynasty.” 

Gael did not need to mention any examples of similar events in the past. Historical conflicts between older sisters and younger brothers, both claiming to be the rightful heir, and dragging a lot of people into the mess as well. 

“I will try to keep an eye on the royal family through my secret connection among the army of servants in the Red Keep. I do not doubt that Miss Alicent Hightower will try to raise her children with the King to be pious, but it will indeed be a mess for the very reasons the Sisterhood fears.”  

Torgrim knew that he too, was going to get involved in that mess as the High Septon, if he lived that long to witness it start. But he did not doubt one thing as he saw Gael slowly blink, her eyes switching color from purple to sharp ice-blue for a moment: 

If both Rhaenyra and the possible sons of Alicent proved to be inadequate as the next ruler sitting on the Iron Throne, then the Sisterhood would pull invisible threads to remove that generation from power altogether and instead crown someone from the next one, if both Rhaenyra and her half-siblings had children. After all, the witches hated when the weak in society suffered for something that people higher up did, because of wounded pride or some other foolish reason to start a conflict with deadly weapons. It was the smallfolk who would get their fields and houses burned, livestock and harvests stolen by soldiers, their women and girls suffering rape and other form of horrible treatment as their menfolk was slain.  

Hearing from a different septa that her foster family and Theomore had already left a while ago, Gael went outside to enjoy the sunlight. To her delight, she saw Rahima wave to her between some nearby buildings. 

“With so many people here that would frown on us, I have not gotten to kiss you enough over the past month!”   

Gael was hungry for her lover as well, and for more than just gentle touches and discret smiles behind the backs of those who would watch her. Really, people needed to start become more open-minded to that not everyone would be drawn to the the opposite sex, and that both men and women could be in a sexual relationship with each other. 

“Then let us find somewhere…” 

However, just as Rahima turned around, something snapped around her foot and she howled in pain as some form of trap for a rat revealed itself around the leather of her shoe. 

“OW!! ”

Worse, a giant man in the armor and mantle of the Gold Cloaks blocked them when Gael was about to bring Rahima out in a more open space to remove the rat trap from her abused foot. 

“Caught some whores for us, huh, Cheese?” 

Oh right, Rahima realized among all the pain signals to her brain, their plain clothing and not wearing anything that revealed them to be witches, and being near the Street of Silk…it had to give off a very different impression. And the silver-blonde hair of the Targaryens was also found among those who had either been born as illegitimate children on Dragonstone sired by the Targaryen men, or among sailors from Lys. 

“Sorry, but we do actually have standards about the men we may do more than kissing to.” 

And with that warning, Gael revealed once again that she was surprisingly strong for her body type, aiming a closed fist into the face of the giant to the point of stunning him from the blow. Ignoring her own pain, Rahima did the same to the rat-catcher who had tried to grab her. 

“Live with House Umber for most of your life and I would be surprised to NOT see a foster son or foster daughter gaining some muscle mass from the wrestling matches we did as children!” 

Given that she had been almost petite when growing up, compared to her six foster siblings, Gael knew what she talked about. 

“Damn whores…!” 

With Gael and Rahima beating up the men while trying to not use their respective magic, both of them suddenly saw something strange for a moment: 

“W-who are you?”

“Debt collectors. An eye for an eye, a son for a son. We only want the one, t' square things. Won't hurt the rest o' you fine folks, not one lil' hair. Which one you want t' lose Your Grace?”

The same two men, but aged somewhat, holding two terrified children with the Targayren hair in their hands, and the mother pleading for her children to not be harmed, a daughter hiding behind the skirts of her mother. 

“It has to be a boy.” 

The horrified mother looked like she was being tormented, looking between her sons. 

“...m…my youngest…Maelor…” she finally whispered, tears in her eyes.

“You hear that, little boy? Your Momma wants you dead,” the ratcatcher laughed. And then the giant grinned in a terrifying manner, before striking off the head of her older son instead with one single blow of his sword. The scream of the mother drowned out any other sound. It was in the light of the candles that her face was finally revealed, and she looked enough similar to Alicent, only more plump, to be a daughter by blood. 

The vision had ended, but Gael was already spreading frost and ice around her in cold fury from what she just had seen. 

“FUCKING MURDERERS!! No way I will allow you to bring harm to that family, even if none of them are born yet! ” 

Spinning around to the best of her ability on her unharmed foot, Rahima summoned water for Gael to freeze into deadly icicles which wore into the men like swords, and before they knew it, the former butcher nicknamed Blood and Cheese the ratcatcher found themselves without their respective heads, Gael forming two massive snowflakes with deadly sharp edges to act as an executioner's axe when she made them spin around in high speed. 

“Mistress Gaia, this better not be a sacrifice to the Old Gods to bless Miss Alicent to avoid death in childbirth.” 

Hearing Torgrim say this in an almost disappointed voice like she was a novice who caused some trouble, Gael realized a bit belatedly that there was quite a lot of fresh blood on the walls of the rather narrow alley where she and Rahima were, and that the High Septon had just passed by with a group of rather shocked followers.  

“More like preventing those two from harming innocents in the future, as per a very horrible vision Rahima and I just shared.”

With Rahima freeing her abused foot from the rat trap, and both of them telling the High Septon of what sort of details they had seen, Torgrim did agree that killing Blood and Cheese here and now was the better action. 

“An eye for an eye, a son for a son? That is something alarming, indeed, if it involves the expected mess that you mentioned earlier today, Mistress Gaia. For as we all know, people may have sworn oaths to make Princess Rhaenyra the rightful heir, but there is two long-term issues with it; One is that King Viserys is about to remarry with a new bride who holds promise of giving hím sons if the Gods blesses her with motherhood, and that we do not know for how long the King will reign. The Lords who have sworn the oaths, may die during that time and be replaced by sons or other forms of younger relatives, who have not sworn those oaths…” 

Torgrim could feel an oncoming headache about how King Viserys indirectly went against what he had personally said, and he did not doubt that many in the Sisterhood felt the same about the King. 

“The Sisterhood will aim for a peaceful solution, but we must be ready that both sides of the royal family will not agree that easily.” 

Especially with Otto Hightower insisting on tradition with male heirs, despite that while Rhaenyra would be the first Targaryen Queen regnant, she would only be the latest woman in Westeros to be named heir on the grounds of being the oldest. The old Kingdoms prior to the Conquest had been familiar with royal daughters or granddaughters ending up as Queen regnants, unlike those fools who tried to deny a such scenario and insisted on nonsense such as that there had been no Queen in the North at all over the many thousands of years that House Starks had ruled as the royal family from Winterfell. 

“I will ask the city grave-diggers to take care of those two bodies.”

Gael did not mention that she intended for Blood and Cheese to end up as the dinner of the hunting dogs in the royal kennels. Getting their corpses fed to animals was a worthy way of removing them totally. And she also used her magic to send the amount of blood somewhere else. 

Rumors among the smallfolk would later tell of how the bedchamber of Prince Daemon was drenched in blood when he returned that evening, with every single piece of his bed linen and clothing in the wardrobe also ruined by the blood. Not to mention the detail of how he had slipped on a frozen spot of blood on the floor and ended up with a concussion of the brain as well getting his dominant arm broken in the fall towards the stone floor, which prevented his attendance at the wedding of his brother and Alicent. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X    

It was the dawn of her wedding day, and inside the chamber where she had slept for the last time as the daughter of the Hand, Alicent could feel her nerves acting up. 

“Good thing that you did not eat much at dinner yesterday,” Jocelyn said gently, as Alys held the hair of Alicent away from her face as she emptied her stomach on the privy. 

“I am scared…because I fear what will happen to my children in an unavoidable conflict between Rhaenyra and my father about the Iron Throne…” Alicent admitted in a weak voice, getting some fresh water to rinse her mouth with and some pieces of fresh fruit to remove the taste of vomit. 

“The Sisterhood is well aware of that problem, and they will try to fight from the shadows to avoid unneeded bloodshed.” 

With her stomach no longer acting up, Alicent could try a lighter breakfast, if only to avoid fainting later. 

“People are gossiping that Lord and Lady Velaryon are refusing to attend the wedding on the grounds that Lady Laena was refused by the King.”

That comment from another maid, made Jocelyn annoyed on behalf of her daughter and son-in-law, because they had agreed that neither Laena or Laenor would be married before the age of sixteen, to avoid that Laena risked her life in a dangerous childbirth her body was not ready for. 

“No way we want to see my own granddaughter wed at nearly the same age as my niece, thank you very much!” 

Normally the wedding dress of a highborn bride would be made in white, but Alicent had chosen a few details on it that stood out a little bit, in the form of a pale blue fabrice being the inside part of the sleeves and also added in a diamond pattern on the front part of her bodice. That was an unspoken signal that she trusted Gael and the Sisterhood to help her in whatever discreet manner they could do, rather than letting the Targaryens act like Alicent was worth attention only as a broodmare in the royal bedchamber. 

“Lady Alicent! Mistress Gael asked me to give you this!” Lady Jeyne Arryn said at entering the chamber with something in her arms, and when Alicent unwrapped the small box, it was a silver-white piece of a dragon scale, tied to a small chain like a necklace. 

“I will wear this as my favorite necklace today and everyday after.” 

Without doubt, the message about the dragon scale was that the Targaryens had to adjust to the culture of Westeros, unless the Sisterhood acted against them. They may have become the ruling family by conquest, but their ties to the Valyrian Freehold was weakening for every generation that came and went. If the Targaryen family failed in adjusting to the vastly different cultures which they ruled over, not even their beloved dragons may help save them in the long run. 

Yet when Alicent entered the Sept with her hand on the arm of her father, it was noticed that absolutely no witches were present, not even the highborn ones. 

“They are not here…because they want to show their disappointment over Viserys was involved in Queen Aemma's death by impregnating her once again, despite her health already being affected by the previous failures and feeling the pressure on her to give birth to a living son…” 

Alicent shocked everyone by suddenly walking away from her father, before taking a lit candle and placing it in front of a small painting of her predecessor as royal consort. Then, as if she had not acted weirdly at all, she walked straight to Viserys in front of the High Septon. From there, the usual wedding ceremony according to tradition in the Faith of the Seven went as it should. 

“Treat me as a mere bloodmare that only exists to give birth to more princes and princesses, or be a poor father to my children in favor of Rhaenyra because she was born from your first wife, and you will regret it! ” Alicent hissed in a low voice to Viserys when they kissed, not wanting him to think that he could dismiss her that easily from the very beginning of their marriage. That secret letter, in which Queen Aemma had wanted to warn an eventual second wife of Viserys about the reality of being married to him, was hidden between the pages of Alicent's own prayer book as a reminder that she was not alone in not wanting to be married into the royal family. 

Chapter Text

Of course, most people did not expect Daemon to gracefully accept the second marriage of his brother. Once his dominant arm had healed and the same with his concussion of the brain, he had to show just how little he thought of the lives of others. 

“Invading the Stepstones so Daemon can have his own kingdom, what a waste of money and lives! Stop allowing your brother to let his desires affect others, Viserys!” Jocelyn loudly protested when this was spread at the court in late 106, a few months after the wedding, as she stormed inside the chamber for the small council. 

“And you, Corlys!” she added to her son-in-law, “Wasting the Velaryon fleet that is needed to defend the borders of Westeros! How much wood and labor are needed to build a single ship again, I wonder?”

A decade earlier in 96 AC, after making an alliance to defeat Volantis, the Triarchy of Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh invaded the Stepstones to subdue outlaws and pirates living in the islands. While the Seven Kingdoms were appreciative at first, they came to resent the high tolls, especially Corlys whose own wealth and fame as a seafarer was being affected by this alliance. 

“The Free Cities have imposed high tolls on trade in the narrow sea. That is affecting Westeros badly. If Daemon can rule over the Stepstones instead, we can allow ships to sail without those tolls.” 

Naturally, Jocelyn was not impressed, and ended up pulling Corlys out from the small council chamber by the ear.

“If you want to do something useful, then give Rhaenys a new baby in her womb or train Laenor as the future Lord of Driftmark on your ships instead, fool! Or add valuable things outside money to the dowry that Laena will bring in her marriage!”

Rumors among the servants later confirmed that Rhaenys denied Corlys into her bed for the rest of the year, agreeing with her mother in this situation. 

The Sisterhood was also seeing the planned invasion as a waste of human lives that would be better useful if the men were alive and doing things like farming the land and keeping their own families alive, and carefully spreading word to the commoners about the risks of joining Daemon. 

“Do you want to leave your wives and children alone on the farms, struggling to do everything that a strong, adult man is needed for? Do you want to die in agony from horrible wounds? Far from home, and regretting leaving?” 

In the end, Corlys commanded the Velaryon fleet, while Daemon led an army of sellswords, cutthroats and landless adventurers. Even with Caraxes and Viserys supporting them with gold, the eagerness for this invasion had been successfully sunk lower than what had first been expected. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X   

But in the Red Keep, other changes were happening. With a new queen consort, the feminine half of the royal court lived up. Alicent brought a lot of her Hightower relatives to be her ladies-in-waiting, but she also summoned young women from other parts of Westeros to enter this role. Besides, Rhaenyra needed her own ladies-in-waiting despite her young age, girls who would be schooled and trained alongside her. 

“One of the major flaws of the late Jaehaerys and Alysanne, was that they did not keep a good watch on their daughters, or made a poor choice in septas to overwatch the princesses.” 

Alicent had managed to find septas once in charge of the Targaryen princesses, and when asking them, she had found out that Saera and Viserra were not quite the terrors as described in the rumors about them. 

“They were bright in mind, and yet the King was not allowing them to use that to outshine their “golden trio” of older siblings! They knew that with Prince Aemon and Baelon already wed, they would likely be used to make marriage alliances to powerful families! They only wanted to have their possible suitors see them as more than just pretty faces and their royal blood!”

This fell in line with what Jocelyn could tell Alicent about her younger sisters–in-law, because as the wife to the Prince of Dragonstone, Jocelyn had witnessed a lot of the court in the older generation and those who were her in-laws. 

“I strongly suspect that King Jaehaerys actually ordered Braxton Beesbury to be drugged or damaged by some form of torture in some form before that duel. Because the King was 30 years older at 49, and sometimes it's simply being younger and having better stamina that ensures a victory. Yes, skills in fighting are important as well, but Jaehaerys could not stand the idea of being seen as having become weak from aging…” Jocelyn admitted, which Alicent was horrified by, especially as she remembered the Old King as he had been in his last years, frail and bedridden. 

“And Princess Saera was horribly guilt-stricken by the fact that Alys Turnberry had become pregnant because of her “kissing games” going overboard. She accepted being sent to the Silent Sisters out of guilt, knowing that she was the one to blame for the mess. Her running away was…the result of hearing that the King intended to marry her to a widower, with many heirs already, basically condemning her to life as a young widow and dependent on their sympathy, without being allowed to remarry again after the mourning period.” 

Not the aged Lord Theomore Manderly, who had been confused with his grandson in the match for Viserra, but someone with a similar history of having several previous wives buried and grown-up heirs from the earlier marriages. 

One major difference, however, was that Alicent changed the court by hanging up tapestries of the Seven, or other forms of nature scenes, over the walls with more erotic images. It had been perfectly normal in Old Valyria to have that sort of furnishings, but many felt that those drawings were better suitable for a pleasure house than a royal court. 

“The Targaryen may hail from Old Valyria, but this is Westeros! The south where the Faith is a different religion! If they can not adjust to the lands and people they rule over, they will ruin themselves!” 

Of course, High Septon Torgrim was with Alicent on that her children with the King should be raised as believers in the Faith, because neither one wanted a second coming of Daemon, and it was not like Alicent knew much about the Valyrian gods. or their ways of worship, for the matter. 

“If the Faith can offer a sanctuary in some form, then you shall have it. But they must know that they can not behave in a way that goes against the rules of a sept or another holy place.” 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

And in Volantis, Gael had just brought the news of the Stepstones to Saera.

“Men and their need for being the best fighters around! Those islands are a lawless borderland, and no one ever stays in control over them for long! I may be the proprietor of a pleasure house in this city, but I am not blind to how this will mean for trade between Westeros and Essos! My working girls hear this all the time from their long-traveled customers!” the now oldest surviving daughter of King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne, muttered in disbelief that Daemon seemed to think that using Caraxes was the key for a Targaryen victory. 

“Sister, please never use your hard-earned personal wealth to help Daemon out of a danger he has stuck himself into. Yes, it may be founded in a way that many would view as immortal, but I would be horrified to see you as a disease-affected street walker somewhere…” Gael said, taking more of the wine that she had been offered before. 

“Waste money on something like paying a ransom for Daemon when Viserys realizes that his brother will cost more than the taxes the smallfolk are willingly to pay? No way, if it was you or your sweet daughters, Gael, I would throw up as much money as needed, but Daemon, the troublemaker? Never! As for that detail about how I have become this successful, I owe it all to a little bit of luck, and finding powerful patrons, which can do wonders for a girl who realizes that sex can be quite enjoyable I have seen other girls, plain in face but with sharp wits, also rise to the status as celebrated courtesans in Lys. Besides, since one of my sons was sired by a Triarch of Volantis, it is hard to not get some form of influence,” Saera smirked, showing that for her current age of 39, she was still attractive for men who preferred women to not be quite that young and fresh anymore. Besides, Saera also showed some morals in never using slaves in the pleasure houses, but instead employed free women and girls who were protected in a written contract for each one with Saera, who wanted them to enter the sex trade of free will rather than being forced into it. 

“Ow, ow, ow! Mother, cousin Safiya accidentally burned a curtain right now! We were playing hide and seek in a manner that would allow cousin Aemma to hide well despite her blindness!” one of the three sons of Saera called as a faint scent of smoke came from the open window. 

“Your sons are surprisingly kind to spend time around my girls despite the age difference.” 

“You are the only maternal relative of theirs to come and visit sometime! Besides, it would only be foolish to ignore the useful connections my boys may bring one day, correct?” 

That was true. Bastards they may be, sired from different fathers, but this made the sons of Saera no different than Safiya. Not to mention, there was a likelihood that if someone ever asked about who Aemma had been fathered by, Gael would claim Gjermund, the Free Folks youngster who had been her first crush around the age of fifteen, as the father. He sadly was one of the Free Folks prisoners who had died in the shipwreck where she had found Aemma, as proved by a tattoo on the arm he had gotten upon entering adulthood, and she strongly suspected that Aemma might actually be his biological daughter with a legal wife. 

“Maaaama!” a small voice called, but it was not Aemma wanting Gael. Of course, Saera had a few younger children too, two daughters in different ages, who had just left the nursery. 

“Sorry, Saera, my communication mirror for the Sisterhood…” Gael excused herself at seeing something warm from her belt. Holding up the small hand mirror close to her face, Jeyne Arryn appeared in the glass. 

“Important news, Gael. Alicent is going to have her first child around the first wedding anniversary. This was just confirmed by the nearest healer witch in the Crownlands Coven and passed on from Alys, because she is the headmaid that naturally is almost always found around Alicent. ” 

Oh, so the incoming headache about Rhaenyra and her future half-brothers was starting now? Gael truly pitied Alicent in this moment, and hoped that Rhaenyra would not start to see the baby as a threat to her own position as the heir of Viserys already now, before Alicent even had given birth.

Chapter Text

Year 107 AC, Red Keep: 

They celebrated the tenth birthday of Rhaenyra, the day before Alicent would enter her chambers for “laying in”, the period before she gave birth. 

“I hope that we will not lose another royal child in the cradle…” 

“It is dangerous to have just one child, the King needs more in case something happens to the Princess!” 

“May the Gods bless Queen Alicent with a healthy babe and the ability to bear more in the future!” 

Most of the nobles congratulated Rhaenyra for surviving her first ten years of life and wished her good luck for her future role as the first Queen regnant of the Targaryen dynasty, but there were some who instead talked about the unborn baby Alicent carried inside her. 

“Why are they talking about Alicent and her baby when she has not even given birth yet?!” Rhaenyra wondered for herself in some offense as she stormed off from the throne chamber, because she wanted all the attention on her today and not on her stepmother stealing some of the spotlight with her big belly. 

“Princess, wait on me!” her sworn sword Ser Criston Cole, one of the Kingsguard members, called when spotting that the young heir to the Iron Throne was leaving all by herself without a septa or someone else to ensure that nothing happened. 

“Father, please, do not talk about the importance of my baby being a son,” Alicent warned Otto before he even opened his mouth, having heard throughout the pregnancy so far that she needed a living son. Even a daughter was preferable to a stillbirth, Otto reasoned, but Alicent felt enough pressure on her shoulders without him saying the same words as most people at court did.  

“I already know from Mistress Noelle that I am carrying a first son out of three, inside me right now. But…I am scared, ” Alicent thought to herself, feeling nervous because this was her first childbirth and she did not know what to expect outside that there would be a lot of pain involved. A kick made her place her hand on her swollen belly, hoping that it would soothe her firstborn a little if he could feel her hand where he now kicked. 

The following day, there was an elaborate service held in the sept of the Red Keep, with High Septon Torgrim and several other high-ranking septons in the Faith would ask the Seven to bless the coming royal birth and the mother, as everyone still remembered how Queen Aemma had died. 

“Let us all pray for a successful birth for both mother and child, and that the royal family shall be blessed with more living family members.”

Torgrim tried to be nice to Alicent by not mentioning the need of more royal heirs, but rather that she would not have to suffer the pain of losing a baby in the cradle or a stillbirth, which she was much grateful for, where she was praying to the Mother for guiding her through the childbirth with the help of the midwives and the secretly asked-for healer witches. 

“My King and Queen, may I ask if you have any names for the baby, depending on the gender?”

Of course, Viserys had to say Aegon for a son, Alicent felt her mood sour for a moment when hearing the name, but she got a small revenge when she said a name for a daughter: 

“Helena for a daughter, after my own late mother.”

Yes, she did expect that Viserys would most likely make the spelling more Valyrian by adding a ae in the middle of the name instead of the usual Westerosi norm, but no one questioned the idea of her wanting to name a daughter after her own mother who had died not long before the late King Jaehaerys, it was perfectly normal to name newborns after deceased relatives.

“Alicent…”

Suddenly, Rhaenyra grabbed the hand of her stepmother, just before Alicent was about to enter her private chambers. 

“Please, do not die!”

Everyone realized at once why the young Princess sounded scared. She must have recalled the death of her own mother, and all the times in the past when Aemma had entered her chambers for the laying in, as Rhaenyra was blocked from entering due to her young age, and would often slam her little fists on the closed door in a attempt to come in to her mother before she was forced away.

“I will not leave you, Rhaenyra.”

It was all Alicent could promise for now, because it was seen as not proper to allow such young girls into the birthing chamber, despite that a small part of her did agree with the Sisterhood that sheltering well-bred girls from this reality of married women, was asking for trouble when it was time for those first-time mothers to give birth. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X      

Fifteen days later, Alicent entered her labor. 

“Do not let in those Maesters!” Alicent snapped from the bed when Viserys tried to request the Maesters to be let inside the all-female space of her confinement, “Between a Maester who has only delivered six noble-born babies, and is a man that will never know the struggles of pregnancy either for the matter, and a set of midwives who all have delivered more than a hundred babies among smallfolk mothers, I trust the midwives to know what they are doing! ” 

“You tell him, Alicent. Giving birth is the work of a woman, not a man,” Rahima smirked, where she and Gael had snuck inside by dressing up as septas intending to pray for the laboring Queen during the birth. After all, not counting the summoned midwives, all the women inside were female friends or relatives of Alicent.

“Right. Alicent, have you tried to walk as much as possible here in the chambers, despite the lack of wider space?”

The young Queen consort nodded, having been told early in her pregnancy that a lot of exercise, even something as simple as a daily walk out in the gardens or just along the whole Red Keep in case of bad outdoor weather, would get the birth to happen faster. 

“It gets a little boring with just reading, laying in bed and praying while waiting for the birth to start,” Alicent admitted, though she did mention that her ladies had tried to keep her entertained with simple music and song among it all. 

“Good to hear that you all are doing such a great job.”

Milk of the poppy was not a safe pain-killer in childbirth, so instead Alicent got massaged on her lower back while Rahima filled her bathtub with warm water. 

“Warm water helps a lot with normal stomach pains or backaches, because the warmth helps the muscles relax, so a bath will help you to feel that you have some control over it.” 

After little over a day of Alicent fighting in this female-only battlefield, she finally delivered her firstborn with the help of the birthing chair instead of laying on her back in the bed. The loud and rather angry crying from him should be enough to make Viserys stop fearing the worst outcome of the birth.  

“Aegon…” Alicent whispered, holding her son against her chest so he could hear the familiar sound of her heartbeat. His hair, still wet after the birth, was not quite clear in color, only that he was a light golden brown. 

“Of course he is not going to get the classical Targaryen white-blonde hair color when his mother has added in a new color to appear in the family tree,” Gael commented, recalling how Safiya took after Jorchi so much in her looks that her daughter would never be mistaken for having Targaryen blood unless someone took a closer look at them together. But just in case someone had the nerve to question Alicent's faithfulness to her royal husband, Gael used her ice magic to gently bleach a few of the tiny looks on the baby into more white-blonde, and no one blamed Aegon for protesting against the cold despite her trying to be quick. 

“Sorry, sweetie. Your great-aunt is just trying to make sure that you will be hailed as the legitime prince you are,” Alicent said, hushing her son. 

With the successful birth of a new royal prince and the new queen not dying in childbirth as many feared, the whole realm celebrated that Aegon had been born. 

“Well done, Alicent. Well done,” Otto told his daughter from the door to her chambers, showing clear pride over that she had not only survived the dangerous birth, but succeeded in having a son. 

“Thank you, father. I will soon come out again.”

Well, not quite everyone. Because Rhaenyra was now old enough to realize that this male baby in the cradle could steal her position as the heir despite what her father had promised. And at the Stepstones, Daemon was not happy with being placed behind a newborn in the succession order. 

Alicent spent about a month after the birth in confinement to be allowed rest and recover her strength. But on the day when Aegon was one month old, she was ritually welcomed back to society in the sept, where she was sprinkled with holy water by the septon serving the royal family, then made an offering and received a prayer where everyone thanked the Seven for her survival and that of her baby. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X  

Two years later, in 109 AC, Alicent entered the birthing battlefield for a second time. She had managed to avoid Viserys knocking her up again not many months after the birth of Aegon, with some creative help of her maids and ladies to escape those close-timed pregnancies, which was said to be extra dangerous because the female body was not allowed enough rest between the first birth and the start of a new pregnancy. But in the end, she had to accept her duty when Viserys summoned her to his bed, because House Targaryen needed more family members. 

“Aegon is my firstborn, and the oldest of three sons, as Noelle said…surely this birth must be my only daughter! ”

Alicent was proved right, as Princess Helaena entered the world. Unlike her brother, she took after their mother with brown hair. 

“Oh, my sweet girl!”

Helaena may be a daughter, and Rhaenyra did not see her half-sister as a threat in the same way as Aegon, but Alicent was determined to prevent her daughter from being at risk of experiencing the same life as the daughters of Jaehaerys and Alysanne. Expected to marry, yes, but there was no way Alicent would allow Helaena to be wed at a young age to a much older, several-times widower with adult heirs already, or to a husband who only wanted her for her royal blood and connections. 

And with two living children, despite one of them being a daughter, Alicent had strengthened her position as Queen consort by not only having living children, but avoiding the horrible death in childbirth and thus still lived. House Hightower was already one of the oldest Great Houses of Westeros, and their support for the Faith of the Seven had also been a powerbase in itself. 

“Why do I have to learn The Book of Holy Prayer and The Seven-Pointed Star by heart?” Rhaenyra complained during one of the religious lessons with her own lady companions and the other young girls at court. 

“Not knowing the teachings of the Seven-who-are-One is seen as having a poor education, Princess, and it is the dominant faith here in southern Westeros. Unless you were to marry a Northern husband like Lady Hildegard Baratheon, you must know the holy rituals and ceremonies,” one elderly septa tried to explain without sounding angry over that Rhaenyra did not seem to be very pious in nature. Then again, the Princess was also somewhat familiar with the Valyrian gods, from which several dragons had their names, despite that House Targaryen had converted to the Faith of the Seven prior to the generation of Aegon I and his sister-wives Visenya and Rhaenys. 

“Boring…!” Rhaenyra muttered as she returned to the reading, feeling that she would much rather be out and flying on Syrax when the weather was so nice outdoors. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X  

Yet the following year, in 110 AC, Alicent was cursing her husband as she was about to deliver her third child, just fifteen months after Helaena.  

“Damn you, Viserys! Damn you, damn you!” 

She had wanted to wait two years between the children again, only for Viserys to ruin it all by knocking her up the same day as Helaena had turned little over six months in age and had started to learn sitting up by herself with less support.

“Do not waste time with screaming, Alicent! Push!” Alys said, supporting her employer so Alicent could be seated in the birthing chair. This pregnancy had been a difficult one, and led to Alicent fearing that her baby was a new coming of Daemon for the new generation. 

“Careful, catch the baby, here he comes!” 

Entering the world from the womb with a loud cry, Prince Aemond was half the size of Aegon at his birth, but he was twice as fierce, as proved by how he kicked and waved his little arms around. Out of his siblings, he was the most Targaryen-looking one so far. 

“You better not be taking after your troublemaker uncle, Aemond…it is bad enough with him alone…” Alicent begged in a tired voice, where she held him in her arms. 

“Oh, Mistress Noelle!”

The old Seer Witch had appeared outside the window on her broom, and was let into the birthing chamber though that way despite how silly it seemed. 

“I had a new vision of your children, my lady, that may ease your fears for their futures in some form.”

Again Noelle was using a bowl of water, and Alicent was allowed to see her children. An older Aegon standing over a map, and a pregnant blonde lady who had to be her future Reyne daughter-in-law next to him. Helaena in the uniform of a septa. And a side-profile of Aemond, as he was laughing with a dark-haired girl similar in age as they were riding together in a horse race on the fields outside the capital. Finally, her youngest, still unborn son, with his head in the lap of an auburn-haired girl whose dress had the sigil of House Norridge. 

“There they are, your future-daughters in-law: Sophie Reyne, Albina Bracken and Elina Norridge. ”

Alicent knew that two of them had already been born. Sophie the same year as she married, and Albina was just a month younger than Helaena. That meant Elina had yet to be born, and perhaps there was a pattern in that all three of them would be one year older than their respective royal husbands. Well, she preferred that over the girls being younger and them carrying the pressure of starting to be pregnant as soon as they had flowered, Alicent still remembered the sight of the wedding dress that Aemma Arrryn had worn as a bride at age eleven and how the small size had revealed the youth of the wearer. 

“I look forward to finally meeting them when they are all old enough to come to court, and hope that my sons shall have a good impression of them as well without knowing that they are their future wives.” 

It clearly pleased Alicent to see how they seemed to get along in the vision, the three married couples and Helaena, but why did she only see Aemond from the side? Had something happened to him around the age of marrying Abina? Hopefully it was not a horrible injury from the weapon training that took a long time to heal, she had seen her own brothers beaten up, spotting bruises and nasty cuts even from the wooden swords they had first used as young boys in training. 

But for the now 13-year-old Rhaenyra, the birth of Aemond was once again a reminder of how her position as the heir was not quite as stable as she and Viserys may prefer to see it as. 

“Why could not all of them be girls instead?! Why do you have to birth sons?!” she actually accosted Alicent when being allowed inside the nursery to meet her newest sibling, once her stepmother had finished her confinement. 

“A mother has no control over the gender of their children, or else you would have been a boy and seen as a younger rival by Daemon for the crown!” Alicent snapped back, not being in the mood for Rhaenyra acting childish. Yes, her stepdaughter had flowered mere weeks before the birth of Aemond, but that troublesome transformation from a girl into a maiden, fertile yet untouched, was not an acceptable excuse for Rhaenyra to act like things were not going as she wanted. 

“Hmp!” 

Rhaenyra stormed off, and Alicent sank back into her most comfortable chair, feeling exhausted. In her private thoughts, Alicent wondered how Rhaenyra would handle her own future pregnancies and childbirths once the Princess had been married to a future husband, since she had refused the invitation to be present at both the birth of both Helaena and Aemond, on the grounds of her being old enough to learn what it actually meant to give birth and mentally prepare Rhaenyra on her life as a married woman. 

“Viserys can not shelter you from everything unpleasant in life as you grow up, Rhaenyra…” 

“Stupid Nya!” Aegon screamed from his corner of the nursery where he had been riding on a rocking horse, before sitting off to instead toss one of his soft ball toys after his sister as Helaena hugged the leg of her mother. They may still be toddlers in different ages, but they could see how their mother was sad. 

“Aegon, no screaming. Aemond will remain awake in the cradle and start to cry if you are raising your voice, and Helaena will be scared too,” Alicent reminded her firstborn in the most gentle voice she could master at this moment, and he did actually seem a little ashamed over doing something he should not. 

“Sorry, mommy. Sorry, Lena,” Aegon said with his eyes to the floor. Seeing how he was sad as well, Alicent offered him a comfort hug and thanked Aegon for trying to be her own brave little knight. 

Chapter Text

While it had been somewhat overlooked due to the birth of Prince Aegon which was a matter for the whole realm, Hildegard Baratheon had chosen Harald Umber as her future husband and they had wed in 108 AC after a year of being betrothed. The following year, not long after Princess Helaena, did their oldest son Gorm arrive into the world. 

“You have done well, my dear Hildegard, really well, in terms of a match! If a Stormlander lass and a Northern lad can produce this sort of healthy, strong offspring, there will be more Houses willing to try similar marriages,” Boremund smiled as the family gathered in front of the hearth in the Great Hall. Now, as the new heir to Storm's End was happy playing with some soft toys in the lap of his maternal grandfather, they had an important visitor there. 

“Mistress Gael, I hope that you are pleased to see all six of your foster siblings happily married.”

“I am, Lord Baratheon, and yet I could never expect Harald to catch such a fine heiress as wife,” she smiled at the aged Lord, her fellow witch and foster brother. And she did mean it by how Harald had done well for his status as a third son, because he had never expected to inherit Last Hearth with two older brothers and three nephews ahead of himself in the succession, so Harald had taken the usual path for a younger son in the North: 

Make himself known in the area he was most successful in, his case being fighting with a warhammer, and then trying to find an heiress to marry. Compared to Daemon, Harald was far more successful as a husband because he had learned early on to respect women and knew how important the role of a woman was in the survival of a household. 

“And I am very glad that neither Father nor Harald have joined in that worthless war for the Stepstones.”

Both Boremund and Harald were quick to realize the deeper meaning of what Hildegard had left unspoken. 

“I am 58 years old, Hildegard! I may be a Baratheon, but I want to die peacefully in my bed, surrounded by whatever number of grandchildren you can accept bearing!” 

“If I tried to join the fight over the Stepstones, you would literally send my ship backwards home to Storm's End with your winds!”

Gael laughed at their responses, enjoying seeing her fellow witch being respected by the men in her life. And hopefully little Gorm, who had gotten a Northern name to honor his paternal family, would join them too as he grew older. 

“Safiya and Aemma are back home at Last Hearth with my parents, I guess, sweet winter sister of mine?” 

That was true. And Gael could also answer why she had been traveling on her broom for this visit: 

“Frostfyre and the other Ice Dragons living in the White Waste and the Shivering Sea have their breeding season right now, and it happens every fifth year, as I have found out during the twenty years that I have been bonded with her. The male offspring born in the precious litter is chased out from the territory of their mother after surviving the first year, while the female offspring stay for another year to learn how to take good care of a nest and protect the hatchlings when it is time for their own first litter.”

Not even Gael herself, who was bonded to Frostfyre as her spiritual animal, would be welcomed to come close to a nest with eggs or hatchlings when Frostfyre was in protective mama mood. After all, egg thieves still existed among animals, and the coal-black dragon known as the Cannibal here in the south of Westeros, had a few equivalents among the Ice Dragons who Frostfyre and other dragon mothers loathed. 

“I can still remember how one of them tried to eat me in the air as I flew around on my broom and Frostfyre tore the head off after a rather violent battle because she mistook it as an attack on her own offspring…” Gael thought, hiding the shiver she felt along her back from the memory. 

That said, soon their talking switched to something else which had happened last year as well, which had affected the Red Keep a bit. Namely that Otto Hightower had been removed as Hand of the King for hounding Viserys to declare not only Prince Aegon, but other future possible sons of Alicent as the heirs to the Iron Throne instead of Princess Rhaenyra.

“After that he first suggested to Viserys that Princess Rhaenyra should be his heir instead of Daemon not long after the death of Queen Aemma, it does look a bit suspicious that Otto tried to get the King to change his mind again on his heir and instead declare the toddler-aged Prince Aegon as crown prince instead of his ten years older half-sister. Because that ten-year age difference will mean that Rhaenyra will always have one decade more than Aegon to grow up, marry a suitable husband from a powerful family, have children and build important alliances for her own claim.”   

“He have realized that without Rhaenyra or Daemon blocking the path to the Iron Throne for his grandsons, he will become known in history as not only Hand of of the King and father to a queen consort, but also the maternal grandfather to Targaryen Kings….” 

Both Gael and Hildegard had gotten letters, written in the hand of Alicent herself, that it was exactly this very change of mind from her father which Alicent feared would put her children in danger. By knowing that she was fated to birth four children, and two of the current ones was two thirds of the sons she would have, Alicent worried that Otto may try something which would sow the seeds of a possible civil war over the Iron Throne. 

“A lot of this depends on Rhaenyra and her own actions as an adult. Besides, no matter what, she is the oldest surviving child of Viserys, and her own children should come ahead of her younger siblings. That is how it is, with male heirs: Firstborn son first, then his own children, followed by his brothers and any nephews. As frustrating as it is to have younger brothers be the preferred heirs to their older sisters, at least the sisters are following in birth order.” 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

Naturally, Gael did visit the Red Keep to see how well Alicent had done in adding new family members in the youngest Targaryen generation so far. Not to mention, it was a sign of how the actions of Otto were not held against his daughter by the Sisterhood.  

“It is nice to hear that Noelle could confirm that Aemond will not take after Daemon in how to be a husband, at least,” Alicent told Gael as she held her second son in her arms, Aemond having fallen asleep there after being restless earlier. 

“I think…” Gael started carefully, “that quite a few problems with Daemon, hails from the plain fact that he is a warrior by nature, but also that most of his previous attempts of holding some form of power, is ruined by himself. Just look at what happened in the first years of this current reign. Yes, he thrived in the position as Commander of the City Watch of King's Landing, which he maintained for two years, but his broken record of short-lived positions of power is not very promising for what he is trying to do now.”

Part of why the Sisterhood was so skeptical to Daemon somehow succeeding in making a long-term kingdom for himself at the Stepstones, came from how Daemon served briefly as master of coin from 103 AC until 104 AC and master of laws for six months after that. However, as had been revealed in the past prior to him being named the Commander of the Gold Cloaks for two years, governance bored Daemon, and that was a serious flaw for anyone who wanted to be a ruler. Yes, words had spread about Daemon getting crowned as King of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea last year after Daemon's armies now controlled all but two of the Stepstones, and Corlys' fleets had naval supremacy, but as Gael said, Daemon did not exactly have a steady record of staying in a position of power for long. 

“I see your point, and I must agree.”

Despite being a little shy around this unknown woman, Aegon had been won over by Gael crafting a small snowman that moved around on the floor and proved to be quite soft, if a little cold, to hold in the small hands. Helaena was also figuring out how to make a small tower of similar snowballs. 

“Um…Gael, I am not sure if it is just a weird idea that Viserys has, but…he talked yesterday evening about trying to arrange a match to House Lannister… with you as the bride in exchange for getting more money for that foolishness of Daemon on the Stepstones.” 

For a moment, there was silence in the nursery. Then, Gael explored, showing this by the temperature dropping and snowflakes starting to cover the window behind the playing children and snowflakes starting to flow around her. 

“WHAT?! ” 

How dare he?! How DARED Viserys think that he could offer her as bride in such a plan, when she had renounced her royal title as a Targaryen Princess and anything it involved, when she came of age?!

Sensing that things risked to become ugly, Alicent hurried to add that Lord Lyonel Strong, the current Hand of the King who had replaced her father, had immediately protested this crazy idea and instead tried to remind Viserys how important it was to secure Princess Rhaenyra's future marriage instead, even though she most likely wouldn't be standing as a bride for another couple of years. Because as a fellow native Westerosi, the Lord of Harrenhal had realized how little Viserys actually knew about how important the Sisterhood was for Westeros. 

“I am going to have a TALK with Viserys, right now!” 

Gael stormed out of the nursery, leaving a shocked Alicent behind. That said, the queen consort had full understanding for the reaction, because being a member of House Hightower also meant deep respect for the Sisterhood, and knowing that there were some lines to not cross. 

“If possible, please ensure that he will stay out of my bed until Aemond is three years old at the minimum! I want a little rest from my duties of carrying and birthing children!” 

With how Gael being the first Witch born in House Targaryen, and said family of dragonlords from Valyria having been the ruling House of Westeros for little over a century and yet their ancestors had lived at Dragonstone for a century before the Conquest, it spoke volumes of culture blindness for him to think that he could offer his witch aunt in marriage without even asking her first. 

“VISERYS TARGARYEN!! ” 

A blizzard was forming inside the throne chamber as Gael forced the doors open and stormed towards the Iron Throne, causing the present Kingsguard members and other courtiers to be swept towards the walls with no so gentle care with a movement of her hand. 

“A-aunt Gael, how nice to see you…” 

But Gael was not in the mood for any smalltalk with her royal nephew. She would make Viserys regret this idea, by force if so needed. 

“How dare you?! How dare you still treat me like a royal princess to be offered in marriage to whatever suitor you find acceptable, and for such a flimsy reason as to gain more money for Daemon!?!” 

Her eyes changing color, Gael pointed her staff against Viserys, pushing him deeper into the seat of the Iron Throne before freezing him in that position, not allowing him to move.  

“You better listen and remember what I am going to tell you now, Viserys. Hildegard married as the future Lady of Storm's End because she is the only surviving child of Boremund, and she knew that she needed a formal marriage to keep the Stormlands stable. I am a rogue witch, meaning that I belong to no coven at all. I live my life as I please, with no one controlling me! That involves that you can not use me as a marriage pawn on the grounds of me being an “old maid” now at age 30! If you are so desperate for the wealth of House Lannister, then marry Rhaenyra to either Jason or Tyland Lannister, the two twin heirs of that House!”  

By all the gods, Jason and Tyland were fifteen years younger than herself! Fine youngsters on the road to adulthood, yes, but still children compared to Jorchi and the other two men that Gael had been involved with over her life so far. 

“A…aunt…” Viserys pleaded, feeling the tattoos on his palms numbing him more and more. 

“I will not sink so low as to commit kinslaying and bring shame upon the Sisterhood with my actions or cause chaos for your succession, Viserys, but this is a warning nonetheless: Stay out of my personal life, or you will regret it. ” 

Gael made herself sound extra threatening, because she feared to be revealed as having been pregnant and giving birth eleven years ago, thanks to the wider hips she had since then and the very faint hints of stretch marks on her belly. She always lived in fear of what would happen to Safiya if the existence of her daughter was revealed, of a scenario where not even their shared witch magic may protect Safiya from narrow-minded people and harmful prejudices. 

“Y-yes…” was all Viserys could bring himself to whisper, his eyes wide of terror and fear for what Gael might do if he did not agree to everything she said. 

“Sire!” 

Ser Criston Cole had managed to stand up despite the strong force of the cold winds and snow around Gael, and now he made something that was a major no-no for anyone with common sense around a witch: 

He tried to attack Gael from behind with his drawn sword. But she sensed the change in the air, and quickly spun around to “greet” his blow with her staff, adding a trick layer of ice around the wood to avoid it breaking from the steel. This resulted in the Kingsguard member being unable to move. 

“Eh?!” 

Gael only snorted in annoyance over how he had believed that he would do something like that. 

“What in the frozen secrets of the Land of Always Winter is it with this royal court and its members somehow failing to realize that there are other magical powers outside the dragons and their riders?!” 

Again revealing how her fostering in House Umber had involved training to train physical strength, Gael added magic around her left leather boot to form a miniature block of ice before she kicked Criston aside like he was a ragdoll and sent him flying into the wall again. 

“You heard me, Viserys. Try something like this behind my back again…and you are going to regret it for the rest of your life.” 

Snapping her fingers, Gael thawed out the throne chamber from the freezing temperatures and then left without another word, glaring over her shoulder as one last warning. 

“S-sire….” 

No one in the throne chamber had been seriously injured, but all the white armor on the present Kingsguard members was covered in a thin layer of frost and Viserys was shivering not only from the cold, but from fear where he still was sitting on the Iron Throne, the cold steel of the melted swords hardly offering any warmth after the freezing temperature below zero. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Compared to the drama which had just happened in the Red Keep, things were a lot more quiet in Lannisport, where a big market day was happening today. 

“Can you really confirm that this is an acceptable price for your goods after taking so long to bring them here, my good man?” 

“Um…” 

At the moment, four-year-old Sophie Reyne had a personal entertainment in the form of watching her five years older sister, apprentice witch Julia whose power was based in Omnilingualism, the incredibly rare ability to understand any spoken language across the known world, as Julia surprised merchants from the Free Cities with questions in their own mother tongue and rather pressing questions about their goods and other things. 

“Quite funny, you know? Because I have a rather strong feeling that you secretly are trying to increase the price of fine goods that really appeal to those with money….” Julia smiled with her eyes half narrowed, but it was a rather terrifying kind of smile. 

“I will lower the prices, Miss!” the merchant from Pentos finally gave in, unable to escape the glare she had trapped him inside. 

“Sis! Sis, this one for mama! Saffron!” 

Taking a chance to point at various spices, Sophie literally hurled questions at the poor merchant, such as where across the known world that the precious spices came from and the like.

“Planning to travel the world yourself one day, Sophie?” Julia wondered in a joking manner as a male servant in the Reyne household found himself carrying quite a few items for the young ladies, as Julia had her arms full with her younger sister. 

A similar scene between an older, magical sister and a younger, non-magical sister was also happening at the outer fields of Stone Hedge, the seat of House Bracken in the Riverlands, as a smaller horse came galloping towards a group of workers. 

“Miss Matilda! Hurry!” 

The nine-year-old daughter of Lord Bracken had been blessed with healing magic, and now she used this ability to help save the life of a local farmer who had been caught under a collapsing roof in an old cottage that was to be torn down and rebuilt because it was so old and risky to live in. Matilda ignored any faint protests about the man being stripped naked on his lower body, and set to work, because she knew that she would need to treat both men and women with her abilities, and with House Bracken having a tradition of breeding horses, she was no stranger to seeing the male organ on stallions. 

“Watch and learn, Albina. You may have use of this skill as well one day when you are older,” Matilda spoke to the one-year-old toddler who was strapped to her back, watching the hands of her sister with great focus as Matilda emptied a bottle of strong alcohol to clean the deep wounds before she began to sew the wounds closed with a magically sterilized needle and thread. Alas, she did not have enough to use a pain numbing salve, because blood loss could be fatal if too much was lost from the body.  

“Ow, ow, ow! Missus, that hurts!” the injured farm worker protested at waking up and naturally felt that not only was he naked on his lower body, but the pain from his wounds. 

“Good to hear that you are awake and your nerves are working as they should, my good man. Now you others, keep him still so I can sew up those wounds!” 

It was only for the men to obey and let Matilda do her work. She may be young, but as a witch, she was a completely different kind of authority than the worldly one. 

“There. Hope that you enjoyed this little lesson in first-aid, Albina.”

Albina did not answer, as she had not yet learned to talk clearly due to her young age, but kept looking over the shoulder of Matilda in wonder, as if to really memorize this for when she was older, as her sister worked with her hands to heal the injuries.  

Chapter Text

To cool her temper about what Viserys had tried to do behind her back before returning home to Last Hearth, Gael flew on her broom to Dorne. To be more precise, she aimed for Hellholt where House Uller lived.  

“Aunt Rahima, you have a special visitor!” someone of the younger Uller relatives called in a teasing voice as Gael was spotted outside the windows. A snowball quickly silenced the youngster from the sudden cold in his face, and a servant hurried to show her the way to the chamber where Rahima lived. 

“Ah, you are here to meet my Aziz, right?” Rahima smiled at seeing her fellow witch, sitting up in bed towards a pile of pillows to support her back, holding a bundle in her arms. 

“Well, if we both are going to have children born from our bodies, we need to get them in the traditional way with a male lover despite the fact that you Water Witches can take the seed from a man if you use your magic a little bit.”

“Oi, that would make us female rapists with male victims and would give us a really bad reputation,” Rahima protested mildly, before showing her one-month old son to Gael, revealing him to be sired by a sailor from the Summer Isles based on his dark skin color. 

“Handsome little fellow. It looks like we share a taste in foreign fathers for our children, huh?” 

While Gael was drawn to both men and women, Rahima was only into women, but she had been willing to try the necessary act of begetting a child because both of them had talked about raising their children together. 

“Born the same year as Prince Aemond. I hope that when they grow older, the children of Alicent can form good relationships with people outside the nobles. Because I worry about Rhaenyra showing the same entitlement as Daemon and Viserys refuses to leave the comforts of the Red Keep.”  

The Uller-born witch snorted in displeasure, knowing how Gael did not want to worry about those details in the back of her head while she did the usual witch duties to the people in need, before hearing the faint cry from her son that hinted to Aziz being hungry. 

“A moment, I need to feed him.”

Pulling on the string tying the top of her loose caftan dress together, Rahima had no thoughts of shame as she revealed her breasts swollen with milk. 

“I will bring the girls here in a few weeks to meet Aziz when he is a little older. Traveling with a baby north will be a shock for him with the temperature difference.” 

Ignoring the two women, Aziz began to nurse from his mother. 

“You think that Last Hearth with its thick stone house walls on the longhouses and massive hearths in every building is cold for us who hail from further south? You can only last in the Land of Always Winter because you are an Ice Witch and have powers connected to the cold there.” 

And with that, Gael and Rahima enjoyed a night together in the company of each other. They had talked about their relationship before, and what to do if a man entered their lives like this. Being mature adults and not some young girls in the first romance of their lives, they tried to not feel too much jealousy if there was something to upset the balance between them. Rahima knew of Jorchi and Sarkhan still being important for Gael, not only for Safiya to be familiar with her paternal Dothraki culture, but as an important step for Gael to find out her tastes. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X  

Of course, with year 111 AC being the fifth year since Viserys married Alicent and she had also proved her fertility by already having three children, something had to happen.

“A tourney. He had to arrange a tourney instead of something more useful for the commoners, especially those who are really poor and struggle to get food and a roof over their heads!” Alicent muttered in displeasure as she and Alys finished the dressing of Alicent for this day, choosing a green dress for the opening feast. 

“I agree about it being a waste of money with the war for the Stepstones not having ended yet, my lady.”  

It really came off as a waste when Daemon was still not grasping finer details of being a ruler, even of such a meager kingdom as the Stepstones, and kept requesting men and money from Viserys to keep his holdings from being recaptured by the alliance ships and soldiers from Essos. 

“If he keeps this up for several more years, the Sisterhood may end up involved and make the Stepstones a neutral area by force of their magic. The war affects trade, families lose their young men and the Six Kingdoms lose huge sums of money that could be better used.”  

Alicent had tried to plead with Viserys to give Daemon a ultimatum; either sharpen up and prove that he was capable of being more than a warrior, or being exiled for dragging Westeros into a worthless conflict that only wasted time, human lives and money, but he had not wanted to listen on her. Personally, Alicent was growing extremely tired of her brother-in-law only causing trouble, and even dreaded that one day in the future, Daemon would face a situation where his royal title, skills as a warrior or even being the rider of Caraxes would not save Daemon from something horrible. 

At the age of seventeen, Lady Jeyne Arryn of the Vale had been of age for a year. Knowing that she had no close relatives left alive, unless counting Rhaenyra who was a half-first cousin, by her late father Joseph and the late Queen Aemma being half-siblings sharing Rodrik Arryn as the same father, she could not avoid the pressure of having to enter a legal marriage and have children born from her own body as her heirs. Hildegard, who had found herself in a similar situation due to Boremund preferring to have grandchildren over new children born from a much younger wife that was closer in age to Hildegard herself, tried to help out as much she could between her duties as the future Lady of Storm's End and as a fellow witch in the Stormland coven. 

“At least you have found a fiance that you actually feel able to grow fond of with time and is not too many years older than yourself. Besides, Camil Mallister is… drawn to his own gender, remember?” Hildegard reminded the younger Lady Arryn, using a polite term among the witches about people who generally fell in love with their own gender, such as Rahima. 

“Yes. We have talked about that once we have the number of children agreed on and they are old enough to not die in the cradle or anything such, we can take separate lovers if we so pleases. He is even willing to get some…outside help from the Vale coven if he has trouble performing in bed with me, because he knows that they will not gossip about it to others.” 

Jeyne herself was drawn to women, but her fiance was pleasant enough in her eyes to not make her stomach revolt at the thought of the needed act between them to make her pregnant. Camil Mallister had admitted that secret about himself from the start, because he knew that a witch would be a lot more open-minded about it than most people who were not taught about same-sex relationships outside it being called a sin and unnatural. 

“Excuse, Hildegard…Oi, you brats! Leave Camil alone! That book he reads is old and valuable!” Jeyne called at seeing said Mallister family member being picked on by some noble boys who said rude things about the book he had opened. 

“Jeyne, could you please…” Camil stopped for a moment as she sent the boys literally flying back to the tourney grounds with a small whirlwind, “do exactly that so I can return to reading in place?” 

“Those who think that only fighting skills matter in the world, are going to be bested by those who try to think outside the box and find a weakness.”  

Another thing that Jeyne liked with her fiance was how he did not care much for jousting and other sorts of dangerous sports that so many other men were into. Yes, him being a scholar instead of a knight was something which a few people in the Vale had complained about, but he had learned the basics of self-defense and was far from a coward, he simply did not enjoy conflict and would try to solve it in a peaceful manner first. Besides, he had no problem with hunting, so calling him less of a man for not being knighted was just… so damn narrow-minded about what men and women could act.

“Is something on your mind, Camil?” Jeyne asked, noticing that he seemed to be deep in thoughts, as they walked together towards the nearest sept to pray to the Seven for a successful marriage despite their respective preference of bed partners. 

“Recalling how young Laenor began to realize that he was the same as me, last year? I am actually worried that the King may arrange a marriage for the Princess with him as the bridegroom because he honestly is the only legitimate male descendant of the Old King around, and that…Princess Rhaenyra may not really understand the dangers of possibly taking a secret lover to sire her children and claim those as the offspring of Laenor. I mean, Laenor would likely not really care about that detail as long as the Princess is happy, but given that both of them come from Houses with well-known Valyrian traits…” 

Jeyne nodded, having caught the hint of what Camil could not say openly. With only Lord Rogar Baratheon and Lord Rodrik Arryn as the non-Targaryen or non-Velaryon ancestor in her family three, it would look very suspicious if Rhaenyra gave birth to children who showed no signs of those well-known Valyrian traits. One child standing out slightly by inheriting the black hair from House Baratheon though Jocelyn, not too impossible, or the light brown hair that House Arryn had in the past two generations, possible as well, but if every single one of her children did not look like Laenor if they wed… 

“Please do not give me a headache about that sort of mess before Rhaenyra even has started to meet possible suitors,” Jeyene commented, and Camil obeyed by changing the subject to their own wedding instead. 

For her part, Gael had not wanted a repeat of the battle between Frostfyre and Caraxes on Rhaenyra's ninth birthday, so she had left the Ice Dragon back in the North and taken her daughters south in the normal way for a witch, using her broom. Besides, it could draw unwanted attention to herself if Frostfyre was around. 

“We are only here to try and keep things calm. Analyze a situation, and see what can be done. Are we needed to step in, or can others solve it on their own?” 

With Safiya now being twelve and Aemma seven, her daughters may be in different stages of learning witchcraft but some lessons were best repeated many times so it really was firmly set in their minds about what to do.

“Sometimes it is best to let people try to solve problems themselves. If they start relying too much on us witches for every problem in their lives, they will grow lazy about using their own brains and start blaming us if things go wrong or different than expected.”   

Aemma showed that she paid attention to her lessons, and Safiya was doing exactly what Gael had just said; watching for possible problems and seeing if she may be needed. 

“Safiya, are you feeling uncomfortable in the dress? Agnes tried to adjust it to a bigger size so it would not be too tight for you, depending on how quickly you have been growing lately, but if you want, we can try to change it into a robe.” 

“A robe may be a good idea, because I do not like the glares that some people are sending at me…” Safiya admitted, pulling a silk scarf across her shoulders as if to hide her body from view. Honestly, Gael could not believe how tall and quite muscular her biological daughter was already for her age. Both Jorchi and herself were pretty tall by most standards, but Safiya was showing signs of possibly entering womanhood soon if nothing changed. It was not those changes of the body that alarmed Gael about her daughter, but rather something else. How Safiya may be treated by people for not matching the ideal of a woman, here in Westerosi generally meaning fair skin, long hair, being plump for those who could afford it or slender if she was a very young maiden as a sign of not having undergone pregnancy yet.

Safiya was neither malnourished or overfed, but she showed strong signs of possibly becoming one of those unusual tall, muscular-from much physical work-type of women that often was associated with the hard work of the commoners among the pampered nobles and therefore a target to be labeled as “unfeminine” just for not living up to those ideals of a delicate and ladylike woman.

“Maybe you just are the type to look better in male clothing than dresses, sister,” Aemma said with a straight face that may have fooled others to think that she was attempting to make a bad joke, but Gael and Safiya knew from her voice that Aemma was being serious. 

“Most likely, if you keep growing like a weed and refuse to stop wrestling and doing other physical sports with your Umber cousins,” Gael agreed in a light-hearted tone, making Safiya smile awkwardly. 

“Mother, I may need that physical strength one day to make fools obey what I am telling them as a witch. If I can not use magic, then the ability to smash a table in half with my heel is very effective.” 

Ah, yes. If Safiya would be seen as unfeminine by southern Westerosi standards for a noble lady, then the opposite would happen among the Dothraki. Refusing to be passive in difficult situations and helpless when facing danger was an important trait for a khal's daughter since she often would lead the khalasar if her husband and the men were out in war and her children were too young for that task. The same mattered for her daughters with said husband, or their half-sisters born from secondary wives of the khal, because the actions could either bring glory or shame upon the whole clan depending on what they did. 

“That is exactly why I was drawn to the idea of trying to have a child with a Dothraki khal. Not merely for the wish to give you fresh blood to remove some of the health issues that could result from the Targaryen inbreeding, but to let you know that different cultures have different standards of what a woman can do and what sort of life she can expect with her upbringing.” 

Closing her eyes for a moment, Gael suddenly felt herself desiring a longer time aboard in Essos again, just to escape the frustrations of dealing with Viserys and Daemon clinging to the claim of Jaehaerys I that Targaryen family was superior to all others because they were dragon riders.

~X~X~X~X~X~X  

During the opening feast, it was not just Alicent in her green dress which drew attention, but also Rhaenyra in the traditional black and red colors of her House. 

“The Princess' party and the Queen's party…I have a feeling that we will see this grow stronger in future years,” Hildegard muttered to her father in unease, referring to not only the supporters of Rhaenyra as the legal heir of Viserys but also those like Otto Hightower who insisted on tradition by making little Aegon the Crown Prince over his ten years older half-sister.

“The Blacks and the Greens, from the dresses they are wearing today? Most likely,” Boremund said as he watched the banquet, praying that the worries of his daughter and the Sisterhood would not become a reality and leave ugly consequences across all of Westeros.

While many enjoyed the tournament, there were some like Alicent who did not enjoy watching both riders and horses getting injured. And it did not help that poor Aegon seemed to be scared by the loud cheers and crashes from the lances as they were broken. Against the protests of Alicent, Viserys had insisted that their firstborn would watch the tourney, to learn the art of knighthood already now despite his tender age. 

“UNCLE!! ” the young Prince screamed in terror from the lap of his mother as his youngest uncle, Ser Gwayne Hightower, was unhorsed by Ser Criston Cole, yet thankfully Gwayne proved to be unharmed sans a sore back from his landing. As Aegon now cried in fright, Alicent allowed Alys to carry him away back to the royal nursery where young Gorm Baratheon had joined Helaena and Aemond alongside Aziz Uller on a playdate under the watchful eye of Rahima and the nursemaids, because Rahima was not seen as a threat by Alicent despite hailing from Dorne. 

“Not a single one of the champions for Queen Alicent and her part of the court is remaining…” Gael noticed with some distaste. Yes, Ser Criston Cole was a skilled warrior, and no one was surprised by him wearing the favor of Rhaenyra, but that he had unhorsed not only the brother of the Queen but two of her cousins as well, almost seemed like a unspoken way of showing how Alicent was a outsider in the royal family by not being a relative prior to her marriage. 

“That roar is not Frostfyre, right?” Aemma asked upon something being heard in the distance, being familiar enough with the sounds of the Ice Dragon to know that it was not the dragon bonded to her adoptive mother. 

“Here comes trouble in human form,” Safiya groaned and Gael shot a death glare upwards as Caraxes appeared in the air, carrying Daemon on his back. 

“What in the seven hells does he want now? Claiming that being the King of the Stepstones is not fun and give the islands to Viserys to rule over?” 

Surprisingly, this was exactly what Daemon did, offering his own crown to Viserys and swearing loyalty to his older brother once again. And much to the dislike of the gathered witches to witness this scene, Viserys not only welcomed brother's return after five long years with no other contact but through letters and messengers, but also gave Daemon a seat on the small council.

“Two gold dragons on Daemon causing himself to be exiled within a year?” Alexandra, the younger of the Royce twin heiresses, asked Rhea who watched it all with an emotionless face like she was a statue. The bet was not to make a fool out of Rhea, but rather from knowing the pattern of how Daemon had acted in the past. 

“Make it ten, dear sister,” Rhea forced out between her clenched teeth, sending death glares at the back of her estranged husband. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X  

The following six months proved to be hell for Alicent, as Daemon was cold to her and showed no warmth towards her young children who had pushed him further down in the line of succession. Just as feared by many, neither age or exile had changed Daemon's nature. He took up again with old companions in the City Watch and returned to the brothels on the Street of Silk. Worse, he spent hours in the company of his niece, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, praising her beauty, enthralling her with not always so truthful tales of his adventures, taking her hawking, and mocking her stepmother Alicent and her allies at court just to make Rhaenyra laugh. Daemon gave her books, pearls, silks, and a jade tiara once owned by the Empress of Leng. Daemon and Rhaenyra often flew to Dragonstone on their dragons, Caraxes and Syrax.

“I fear that he encourages her negative personality traits, just for his own amusement!” the very stressed-out Alicent admitted to Gael during a rare secret visit from the Ice witch so Aegon, Helaena and Aemond became somewhat familiar with their great-aunt. 

“Given his character, that is clearly in line for him.”

Normally, Alicent did not have that much trouble with her stepdaughter outside that Rhaenyra had become aware that her half-brothers could pose an alternative to herself as the royal heir. The mood swings, growing amounts of small rebellious acts and sometimes open rudeness from Rhaenyra could be blamed on the fact that she was undergoing the troublesome body changes from a child into a maiden. But with Daemon back at the Red Keep, things were just getting worse than ever. 

“Alicent,” Gael said as she hugged the Queen in an attempt to comfort her and let Alicent feel that she was not alone, “how are Viserys reacting to all this?” 

“Happy to have his family gathered again under the same roof, despite barely spending any time at all with my children.” 

Muttering under her breath in the Old Tongue, Gael swore to give her oldest nephew a literal kick in the rear and lock the door to the nursery with magic so he had not choice but actually spend time with his second wife and the children she had borne him, as a reminder that Daemon and Rhaenyra was not his only family. 

“Shall I arrange a visit to Oldtown for you? I think some months in the company of the expanded Hightower may be the cure you need, a proper break from your duties as a queen and just enjoying being a mother…” 

In the next moment, a strange scream was heard from the other end of Maegor's Holdfast. 

“Was that… Viserys? ” Alicent gasped in shock, having never heard her husband scream like that before. 

“I think Daemon has finally crossed a line that not even he can ignore…” Gael admitted, hoping that Rhaenyra had not been deflowered by Daemon in a attempt to force though the denied annulment of his marriage to Rhea and creating a scenario where Rhaenyra had to be married to him as soon as possible to save her social reputation or risk bearing a bastard sired by her own uncle. 

“He is even screaming at Rhaenyra…?” 

Ser Criston was attempting to bring Rhaenyra past the nursery back to her own chambers, but both the women saw that the Princess was only dressed in her chemise under the white cloak of the Kingsguard that the knight had tossed over her, and they also heard the Princess screaming: 

“Father! Father! You are misunderstanding!! Uncle Daemon was only giving me some help in how to appear pleasing for a future husband…!” 

Catching Alicent before she hit the floor, Gael did not blame Alicent for fainting in horror about hearing Rhaenyra using a well-known euphemism from the ladies of the night about how to seduce their customers. Given where Daemon often spent his time, there was no guessing where he had picked it up. 

“I am going to allow Frostfyre to roast Daemon one day, kinslaying or not…!” Gael growled as the glass in the widow became covered in frost. 

Before the day was over, Daemon was exiled from the Six Kingdoms with Viserys ordering him to not leave the Stepstones again, and Rhaenyra was effectively held in room arrest within her own chambers, not allowed to leave. Not even for her daily flying on Syrax, which did not help Rhaenyra in her outrage that uncle Daemon had been ordered away by her own father. Given how doting Viserys normally was towards his oldest child, this was a first taste for Rhaenyra to the less pleasant side of her father, and a harsh reminder that he was the King. 

“Alys. Pay the women in change of the laundry to keep a close eye after the bed sheets of Rhaenyra…and whatever her monthly visitor arrives or not,” Alicent pleaded in a faint voice to her head maid, her pale face showing that she was still in shock from what had happened, giving her six gold dragons to pay the women with for their silence as helping to confirm the risks of the worst-case scenario. 

“Gael…” Alicent started as she turned around, first not seeing where Gael in her septa disguise had gone. 

“I am already about to bring Rahima here,” Gael confirmed behind Alicent as she was about to leave though the window, her broom floating in the air with a foot on it, “If we so have to force the growing fetus out from the womb of Rhaenyra with the water magic of the Rhoynar behind the back of Viserys, so be it. Daemon will not have a child whose existence is a massive scandal and will ruin the future of his own niece. ” 

With this promise, Gael went off towards Dorne, loudly cursing Daemon to the various hells and back as she left the capital.

Thankfully, the monthly visitor of Rhaenyra did arrive just five days later as proof of that the seed of Daemon had failed to take root in her womb, but the unspoken scandal of Daemon deflowering his niece and the Princess denying exactly what had happened, opened an even wider chasm in the relationship between the Princess and the second Queen of her father. 

“I want to believe her that it did not come to anything more than him helping to loosen her dress as she was hot from the dancing lesson earlier that day and that Viserys mistook it for something else…I really want to believe it, but… I just can't …not with knowing how much Daemon badmouths Lady Rhea whatever he gets a chance and knowing that he desires the Iron Throne…” Alicent wept in despair as she had gone to the royal sept for a secret meeting with a few of the Crownlands coven members. 

“Alicent. Let this be a useful lesson to the Princess that her surroundings will not turn a blind eye to everything she does and pretend that nothing has happened. ”

“And that her father has limits for what he is willing to accept from both his brother and his own child.” 

“A dose of reality upon doing something wrong has never harmed those who are sheltered from consequences. They need to learn right from wrong at an early age, or risk growing entitled that bad things only happen to others.”

“The Princess is going to be an adult in two years, she must learn that the actions of an adult woman will not be forgiven in the same manner as if she was a young girl.”

“A future ruler must learn that their behavior and actions can damage others in ways they often can't imagine.” 

Those words echoed in the mind of Alicent, mirroring her own thoughts over the last two months as she had waited in growing anxiety over the dreaded confirmation that Rhaenyra was indeed pregnant by Daemon and what Viserys might do in his anger about this. She really did feel relief over that Rhaenyra was not pregnant, but it still hurt over how her stepdaughter refused to see how close she had come to ruin her future as the Queen Regnant of Westeros by letting Daemon entering her chambers with no one to keep a eye on them in there and just how much Daemon was a danger for her. 

“I and several other women have tried to make Rhaenyra cautious about Daemon…” she said, recalling the number of more experienced women at court who knew about the true nature of Daemon, “but I fear that it is the same story as so often told about young girls and women who feels bored with a more pleasant-natured suitor: being drawn to the dangerous nature of a person because it is exciting, and ignoring common sense screaming “No, no! Dangerous! Stay away! ” somewhere in the back of their minds…” 

Mercy by both the Seven and the Old Gods! Alicent could remember her late mother Helena Hightower explaining to her, exactly why Prince Daemon was a very good example of a “bad boy” whose negative qualities could turn into both murder and other sorts of horrible crimes as he grew older, and how this behavior from the younger grandson of King Jaehaerys had always been off-turning for the younger Alicent long before Helena had died from a really bad pneumonia when Alicent had been the same age as Rhaenyra was now. 

“Alicent. This with Daemon being exiled has not gone unnoticed. The King will likely order suitors from powerful Houses to start coming to court and try for her hand in marriage, and no matter what the Princess thinks, she must marry and have legitimate children to avoid future scandals that your father may use as a basis to install Prince Aegon as the expected heir instead.”

Ugh! Alicent knew that if Otto managed her oldest son as the future King, Daemon had basically handed him some very effective tools to destroy Rhaenyra. Daemon was well known for his desire for the Iron Throne despite having proved himself as a very poor ruler of the Stepstones, and despite Viserys trying to teach her what she needed to do as a Queen Regnant by letting her watch how he handled things in the throne chamber, the rather sheltered upbringing of Rhaenyra also meant that her stepdaughter willingly ignored that all her behavior would affect how she would be written down in history for future generations. 

“I…will pressure Viserys into having Rhaenyra wed before she is seventeen. For the sake of her own social reputation, and to have her understand that her enemies will do everything to place the crown on Aegon instead of herself.”

Alicent did not like the idea of having to force Rhaenyra into marriage, but they could not risk a repeat of what had happened with Daemon. The sooner her stepdaughter was married and settled down on Dragonstone with her own growing family to care for, perhaps her understanding of being responsible for the lives and well-being of others would finally wake up, if she was also removed from Viserys sheltering his daughter as he so often did. 

“That reminds me…have Mistress Gael returned to the North, or stayed in Dorne? She may want to know about this being needed to fix the future of my stepdaughter,” Alicent asked when realizing that the aunt of her husband would most likely pay close attention to Rhaenyra now. The Crownlands witches shared a nervous glare between them. 

“Gael is at Harrenhal…most likely cursing Prince Daemon into falling from grace in such a manner that not even the King may save him.”

Alicent knew at once that she did not want to know any details. Gael and Daemon hated each other, and after the most recent scandal here in the royal family, the Queen consort could tell that Daemon would bring himself into massive trouble at some point in the future. 

“I…will return to Oldtown and my paternal relatives for a while with my children, then. I know better than standing close to a wide-spread explosion caused by the magic of a witch, especially one whose limits are being pushed. My late mother made sure to teach me that the Sisterhood can be deadly.”

“A wise choice, Lady Alicent, because Gael is very right in that you need a break from the royal court after everything in the past six months.”

Making a curtsy to the Crownland witches as a sign of respect, Alicent watched the women leave the royal sept. 

“My dear mother Helena in heaven, please give me strength to deal with these three impossible Targaryens whom I must call husband, brother-in-law and stepdaughter!”

It was not without reason that Svea Gardener, the last-born witch of that royal house, had grown infamous across the Reach by cursing House Tyrell to “never have a witch daughter born to their main line or a royal crown placed on the head of a daughter ” on her deathbed for stealing Highgarden from other Houses with a better claim though blood ties to House Gardener, and Alicent was pretty sure that if House Targaryen kept annoying Gael with their sense of entitlement, they were going to get a personal taste of why the Ice Witches was among the most feared sort of witches here in the south. 

Not by the false claim that the first Ice Witch had originally been a Other like that she had been the Night Queen herself or an somehow impossible offspring born from a “star-crossed” romance between a human and a Other as some more outlandish tales insisted on, but for the ability to bring frost to ruin crops and kill by bringing dangerously low temperatures for both humans and animals. In the North, claiming such a thing like an Ice Witch being connected to the Others was viewed as a such unthinkable insult to the Sisterhood that the offender would find themselves hunted down and brutally made into slaughter waste by any Northerner who heard this insult.

“I really hope that Sophie, Albina and Elina will not be afraid to stand up against both Viserys and Rhaenyra in times of need, because they need to be challenged sometimes despite all the power they hold as the King and his preferred heir…” Alicent sighed in honest fatigue from all this with Daemon and Rhaenyra over the past months. The heavens knew that her future daughters-in-law were going to need that sort of courage here in the Red Keep when marrying her sons, and she was not going to passively watch them face similar troubles as herself. 

Chapter Text

The beginning of year 112 A.C was promising to show the year becoming a symbol of contrasts, even before the first dawn. 

Given how quickly news spread about how Daemon had gotten himself exiled back to the Stepstones, followed by a quite nasty feeling of unusual cold weather around the ruins of Harrenhal, there was little doubt that Gael had enough of her youngest nephew. 

“Gael! Gael! Do not overstrain yourself like this!” 

The barrier around the ruins was still intact and no one had been hurt yet, but there were the remains of several wild animals which had been slaughtered in a sacrificial ritual to the Old Gods, and her blood-stained face and clothing, the ritual knife still in one hand and dripping flesh blood to the barren ground, would have sent any sheltered noble screaming in terror. 

“Gael!” 

Not the aged Mistress Aurora Hightower, though, the current leader of the Reach Coven, one of the Senior Witches in the Sisterhood and paternal great-aunt to Queen Alicent.   

“Damn that fool who you have to call nephew! Causing you to slip out of control like this because he keeps pushing your sore points!” 

Slamming the top part of her own staff on the head of Gael to bring her out of the trance, none of the others was that surprised over how Aurora chose to break the intended ritual. The Targaryen-born Ice Witch had reached quite far into her own magic, and they had seen the tattoo on her back beginning to glow in warning. 

“Gael. Look at me.” 

The almost ice-blue color in the pupils vanished, returning them to the usual purple one as a sign that Gael was back in control. 

“Mother!” 

The sounds of her two daughters from where they looked out from behind a safe cover, seemed to help Gael recalling where she was. 

“....am I…weak for…being this affected by what Daemon…is doing?” she whispered, sounding almost like a scared young child instead of a mature woman with children of her own. 

“No,” Aurora responded firmly yet gently, holding the face of Gael between her hands in an almost motherly manner, “your reaction shows you as a flawed human like everyone else, not an inhuman creature or a living statue. Daemon is a rotten fruit spreading his odor of unpleasantness everywhere, and he will cause his own downfall at some point with how he keeps doing things while thinking that he will be protected by his family name, their social status or being a dragonrider.” 

Thankfully, someone else arrived by broom at that moment, her infant son strapped to her back and waving his hands happily at seeing Gael. 

“Aunt Rahima!” 

“It is quite impossible to miss you throwing a hissing fit over Daemon with how some of the underground wells back at Hellholt is literally frozen,” The Umber witch informed her lover as she handed little Aziz over to Safiya for holding, referring to how Gael had one cast a spell to ensure that Hellholt and other important places in Dorne would never run out of freshwater for as long as she lived. 

“Sorry about that causing problems with the drinking water, Rahima…” 

“Mother have been in a foul mood for weeks,” Aemma informed in her typical manner, not being too scared by the outbursts of frozen air and cold weather that Gael had released while cursing Daemon to the seven hells and back, it was what she had known all her life, after all. 

“Right. The goal of this improvised meeting is to literally let karma strike Daemon by cursing him?” 

Agreements from all the present adult witches, while those who were still in various steps of training, were told to merely watch from a safe distance. 

“This sort of magical curse can be dangerous and risk ending out of control if a sole witch was attempting this all by herself. A group effort is not only safer, but easier to handle.”

Taking the knife again, Gael made a faint cut in a finger to help guide the curse towards Daemon by their shared blood. There was a good reason why Blood Magic was considered a forbidden art to learn here in Westeros, considered the darkest and, by some most powerful, sorcery. But this was not that sort of dark magic, merely a way to ensure that the correct person got the curse around them like invisible chains. 

“Come on, we keeper check so one is watching this and trying some foul play once out of sight,” Safiya suggested to the other witch apprentices, recalling stories told during long winter nights back in Last Hearth how magic could prove dangerous for normal people who had no idea what they tried to do. Some real horror tales even suggested that the Others had their origins in a such way, created by a misused magical ritual by someone who was not trained in magic during a war between the First Men and the Children of the forest, 

In Oldtown, Alicent was not quite sure why she felt something in the distance, but House Hightower had birthed many legendary witches over the passing of time, so perhaps it was merely an echo of those connections by blood ties that made her look in the direction of Harrenhal. 

“Mama!” Aemond demanded her attention as he pulled on her skirt, and the Queen smiled at her youngest as she offered him the stuffed bird that had accidentally been tossed upon the table next to her. 

“I must say, it was a good idea to come here for some time. Look at much happier Aegon and Helaena is to have some more friends in their own age,” Alys smiled as the other two royal children were playing around with some distantly related Hightower children. 

“I did not marry into the royal family to witness their less unpleasant sides and whatever else that they will do without thinking of how it may affect others. And I refuse to become a mere broodmare to birth children.”

With Aemond distracted by his favorite toy, Alys quickly kissed the cheek of Alicent. It had taken some years for it to become clear, especially with how pressing it was for Alicent to have living children with Viserys so Rhaenyra did not remain an only child, but they had realized that they actually was drawn to each other as women in a more emotional sense, not merely employer and employee. 

“How is it going with collecting the ransom money for the common soldiers held as hostages in the Stepstones?”

While Daemon had wasted six months in the capital and then getting himself exiled for the deflowering of Rhaenyra, a lot of Westerosi soldiers had been taken captive by a new fleet of ships serving the Triarchy and it was the Dornish Coven who helped with the more difficult parts of this part. 

Two years ago, Prince Qoren Martell had made it clear that his main reason for joining the Triarchy was how Dornish merchant ships often suffered a heavier tax on their goods in the trade with Westeros, as well all of Dorne taking a deep personal insult over that the Targaryen monarchy claiming “King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men” as well “Lord of the Seven Kingdoms” as part of their royal title when Dorne had never been conquered by the first Aegon and his sisters. 

“If the Sisterhood can not make a coin be enough for a lowborn soldier because their families are too poor to afford any higher ransom, I do not know what will be enough as money for the common soldiers.” 

That Alicent could agree with, and she hoped that this war would finally end soon. The hunt for glory had not exactly proved Daemon to have changed from his youth, with more and more people getting disillusioned by him for every year that passed. 

“Oh, there is a letter from the Eyrie for you, Alicent!” 

It was an personally written invitation for Alicent and her young children to be guests at the wedding of Jeyne and Camil, with none of the other royals. 

“Finally, a social event where I will not have to worry about my husband, brother-in-law or stepdaughter!” 

Traveling to the Vale for the wedding with some help from the Sisterhood would be a quick journey there and back to Oldtown. 

Much to the comfort of the worried families, both well-off and those of lesser social status, the Sisterhood managed to ransom back a high number of men, who found themselves deeply disillusioned by the promises of war glory and what else that Daemon had told them to join him in the war for the Stepstones. 

“If the Prince wants to control the Stepstones so much, he can do the fighting himself with that fire-breathing dragon of his!” 

“Let's see how well he manages to get more men fighting for him, with next to no income of his own and us spreading word of the reality of working under him!”

With this, the problematic side of the estrangement between Daemon and Rhea Royne came to light: Rhea was the ruling Lady of Runestone, a heiress who could support herself through her inheritage, while as a second son that had never been a heir straight from birth, Daemon had not been expected to inherit lands or a get an income of his own and now, with no other way of getting a income in ways that did not involve violence or threats of using Caraxes to scare people into giving him what he wanted, Daemon was slowly gaining a new reputation: 

That for all his skills as a warrior and a royal prince, he had a poor habit of not thinking ahead about details and what sort of consequences his behavior would cause. Furthermore, with more tales of his violence and arrogance, Daemon was not keeping up an image as a hero in the eyes of people, but of an untrustworthy jerkass. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X   

Another not totally unexpected thing to happen, was the reveal that Viserys had organized a tour across Westeros for his daughter, with a particular goal in sight: 

Finding her a suitor so she could get married.

“Wow. Is that the most strict punishment he could think of, for losing her treasured maidenhood to her uncle? Forcing her to travel around on Syrax and getting a taste of what most women here in Westeros will face when it comes to their marriage?” Gael commented in a honestly unimpressed voice when Alicent read this information from a letter that Viserys had sent to his wife by raven. 

“I worries about that Rhaenyra will make a similar mistake as with Daemon and not think that there may be a gold digger she is being courted by…and finding herself chained for life to a husband that will prove to be two-faced just like him, unless she is blessed with early widowhood after having a heir and spare for herself,” Alicent admitted, feeling that her attempts of warning Rhaenyra about this sort of suitors had been ignored by her prideful stepdaughter. 

“A fair worry, given her character.” 

As one could expect, the tour to find Rhaenyra a suitor almost proved a disaster if the Sisterhood was not working from behind the scenes to smooth things out. 

“You youthful IDIOTS!! Do not even attempt to make this an excuse to start that foolish feud between the Houses again! WASTING TIME LIKE THIS LIKE YOU WERE TODDLERS IN THE NURSERY  FIGHTING OVER A TOY AND NOT YOUNG MEN, YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELVES! ” 

Both the aged Blackwood witch and Matilda Bracken were not impressed as the sons of Lords Bracken and Blackwood almost entered a duel over the Princess when she visited the Trident. 

“But…great-great-aunt…” the older son of House Blackwood started as Matilda dragged her brother away to a safe distance, only to get a fresh fish literally thrown in his face by magic to shut him up. 

Forrest Frey was another suitor from the Riverlands for Rhaenyra, and made a minor scene when he boldly asked openly for the Princess of Dragonstone's hand. This would lead to him earning the nickname of “Fool Frey” by others when he was rejected, though a few of the witnesses did agree that he hardly was among the worst suitors that Rhaenyra faced. 

The twin knights Jason and Tyland Lannister wooed Rhaenyra at Casterly Rock with little success despite being only two years older than the Princess, and she was also courted by the sons of Lords Oakheart, Tarly, Tully, and Tyrell when she came to the various castles and strongholds of important families. 

“The Tyrells I can understand for failing in getting her hand in marriage, given that they did not exactly win themselves any favor with the curse of Svea Gardener on her deathbed, but the other suitors, all hailing from powerful families?”

“Can the Princess not see the connections which Queen Alicent bought with her in the marriage to the King, by being a Hightower?” 

Ser Harwin Strong, the son of Lord Lyonel Strong of Harrenhal, also courted the princess. Rumors also said that King Viserys I Targaryen considered wedding his daughter to Prince Qoren Martell to bring Dorne into the Seven Kingdoms. 

“Nope,” Prince Qoren himself confirmed to Gael as the Ice Witch arrived at Sunspear on Frostfyre to personally hear this out, “A Targaryen marrying House Martell? Um…I can imagine it happening if a witch daughter from either House was to find herself with this very unlikely groom, proving that he is a far cry from how most of House Targaryen have viewed themselves so far, because witch daughters generally are not used in marriage alliances and are free to marry as they pleases, but a dragon riding Targaryen as the birth mother of my heirs, a future Prince or Princess to rule Dorne after myself? Please tell King Viserys to forget about Dorne joining the Six Kingdoms in this manner, because I am actually mere days away from my own wedding with a lady from House Wyl.” 

Gael visibly relaxed at hearing this confirmation, and agreed that he had a very good point that for as long as they still had their dragons, any idea of a Targaryen bride for House Martell or the reverse, was plain impossible with the history between Dorne and the Iron Throne. 

“I will tell my older nephew this, and I hope that you will keep being a thorn in the side of my younger one, because Daemon really deserves to have things go wrong for him….ow, Frostfyre!”

Having enough of flipping her wings so she stayed afloat in the warm air, Frostfyre used the tip of her long tail to push Gael out of the saddle and then dived deeply into the sand dunes outside the city to keep herself cool until nightfall, all while leaving her rider to cling to the railing on the balcony else she would fall down to the courtyard.  

“Mistress Gael!” 

“And that proves how native Ice Dragons of Westeros are so different from the Valyrian-bred ones controlled by House Targaryen…I may be bonded to Frostfyre with her as my spirit animal, but she is still an untamed wild beast at heart with a mind of her own. Even after twenty years together, I know better than believing that she will obey me,” Gael muttered for herself as Qoren helped her to climb over the railing and up on the balcony instead. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

If the tour to find Rhaenyra a future bridegroom ended as a failure for quite a few reasons, then the wedding between Lady Jeyne Arryn and Ser Camil Marbrand was a welcomed success. 

“Blessed be the bride and groom!” 

With her marriage, Jeyne had ensured that she would never be questioned about who the father of her eventual children would be. Yes, both she and Camil were drawn to their own gender, but they got along well enough to not make their sharing of a bed an unpleasant duty alone for the sake of having children. 

“I hope that we can provide help, or at least some form of support, for others in similar situations.” 

Many of the witches knew what he hinted to, and they hoped for the same. Even if support could not always be given openly, it may still help those who were in need of it. 

“Alicent, what are you checking?” Jeyne asked when noticing something after taking a break between all the dancing with both her groom and other people. The Queen had a list in her hands, revealed to be the names and locations of various motherhouses across the south of Westeros. 

“If I ever need to send Helaena to the Faith to save her from a bad marriage, then I want her to be a novice in one that will treat her well, not merely for being a royal princess.” 

Ah, yes. With how things were in the royal family, with the paternal favoritism of Rhaenyra and Noelle telling Alicent that all three of her sons would be married but not mentioning any groom for Helaena, it was wise to be prepared. 

“The Starry Sept in Oldtown, would mean not only a close travel distance to my family, but there are a lot of historical Hightower daughters who have become famous septas there. Besides, I think many people secretly worries about a…attempt to revive the marriages within the royal family, despite the Sisterhood and the Faith teaming up at the death of Jaehaerys to put a firm stop to it and make Viserys and Daemon the last known Targaryens born from a brother and sister marrying each other.” 

It was not that Aegon or Aemond was mean to Helaena, far from it, but Alicent felt abhorrence at the mere thought of her children marrying each other like the Targaryens in the older generations and if she could ensure a life for her only daughter far away from that sort of sibling relationships, then she was willing to give Helaena up to the Faith. Not to mention, with all of her three future daughters-in-law hailing from various Houses in Westeros, their marriages would strengthen the royal family by the sort of firm alliance that only a legal marriage could offer.  

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

Alicent returned to the capital with her children after half a year away, once a pleading letter from the few literate servants in the Red Keep arrived to her in Oldtown. 

“I am gone for six months and THIS is how you allow the court to become, Viserys?!” 

It was not a fall of morals or anything such that would cause massive scandals like someone of the ladies-in-waiting getting pregnant by a secret lover and having to get married hasty, but Rhaenyra had made quite a mess when trying to do some of the duties that Alicent would do as Queen. The charity for the poor in Flea Bottom had hit rock bottom with no one checking if there was coins or food sent as help, letters from Daemon where he demanded more money and men to keep his holdings at the Stepstones, complaints from various Lords about how Rhaenyra had refused their unwed sons, nephews or other relatives… 

“I have been focusing on getting Rhaenyra a bridegroom.” 

Something about the answer made Alicent nervous, though she managed to mask it quite well. The need for her stepdaughter to marry was understandable, but the question was about who it would be. 

“Please do not tell me that you are planning on Laenor Velaryon because of his family ties to House Targaryen by Rhaenys!” 

“He is three years older than Rhaenyra and has never been involved in any scandals, and he is a fellow dragonrider. They have gotten along well since childhood. If Rhaenyra has not found herself a different bridegroom at her sixteen birthday, it will be Laenor who marries her.” 

But he is always surrounded by young men his own age and never by any maidens. 

With her own realization about herself and Alys, Alicent was not blind to what this could mean about Laenor. Sure, Camil Marbrand and Jeyne Arryn were examples of people who would agree to do the baby-making duty in order to not have nasty gossip spread about them, despite being drawn to their own gender. But Laenor and Rhaenyra?

“Have you asked Corlys and Rhaenys if their son is not…already betrothed to someone else?” she asked carefully, praying for a different answer than what she dreaded. 

“It is Laena who is promised to the son of the Sealord of Braavos and Corlys not allowing his ships with her dowry to sail to Braavos while the matter of the Stepstones are not over, not Laenor.” 

Ugh. Unless the Velaryon heir or Rhaenyra managed to find an alternative marriage match quickly, Alicent knew that there was a high risk of her stepdaughter crossing a dangerous line again. She had seen that Rhaenyra seemed quite interested in Ser Harwin Strong…. 

“If there is some crazy claim like that all of her children somehow inherited House Baratheon's famous black hair despite both Houses Targaryen and Velaryon being well-known for having silver-blonde hair, Rhaenyra can kiss the Iron Throne good-bye for real on the grounds of her children being illegitimate and Aegon will have a hell for his life! ” Alicent thought for herself in alarm over how that would be exactly what her father Otto would use to crown her oldest son as the next King after Viserys, causing herself to walk straight to the castle sept and spending the next few hours there, praying to the Seven that Viserys would allow Rhaenyra to wed Harwin and avoid a even worse succession crisis caused by his failure of teaching Rhaenyra that even his paternal favoritism had its limits and that she could not keep offending powerful Noble families with her behavior without causing future trouble for herself.

“I better ask Jeyne and Camil exactly how they plan to ask the Water witches for help in the baby-making if there is trouble for him to perform…” 

The very idea felt embarrassing, like she was trespassing on something very private, but if Rhaenyra and Laenor needed the same help to avoid her sleeping with a lover and carrying bastards with no legal claim to either the Iron Throne or Driftmark, Alicent knew that there was uncomfortable things that she needed to face. 

Just like how she had always disliked her duties in bed to beget her own children, without first understanding why she loathed having the hands of her husband on herself and the not very enjoyable act of him entering her so his seed could enter her womb. 

The Seven did not answer the prayers of Alicent about Rhaenyra and her suitors, but there was one small comfort for her nonetheless: 

Four months later, she got the news of Lady Norridge being pregnant with a new child, and Mistress Noelle confirming that it was Elina who would be born in the second month of the year 113 A.C. 

“If the pattern of my older sons and their future wives in terms of the girls being one year older than their princes are to follow, then I will be having my last son sometime after that Rhaenyra has married.”

Not that Alicent was looking forward to being knocked up by Viserys again, but at least she felt better at knowing that this would be her final pregnancy and that she would hopefully be freed of that duty as a wife after the birth.

Chapter Text

While they had teamed up to ensure that only Daemon was struck by the curse, the Sisterhood was well aware that Harrenhal as a magical place was untrustworthy thanks to all the blood magic and dark magic that Harren the Black and his Witch Queen had done there before Aegon the First had literally burned the place into the ruins it was now. 

So, Lady Rhea Royce did not question why some of the Vale Coven members visited Runestone regularly to see that she was safe and healthy.

“There is so much twisted magic still inside Harrenhal, that not even we witches can be fully safe there. Not to mention the risks of the curse aimed at Daemon causing trouble for others around him as well…” 

Rhea did not blame Gael for wanting to curse Daemon after hearing how he had caused himself to get exiled, and personally, she found the use of Harrenhal the sort of self-destruction that he deserved. 

“As long as everyone is careful around Harrenhal, I hope that it will be alright.”

No matter how tempering it was to be free of Daemon by ending their marriage though a legal divorce with permission from the High Septon, Rhea knew that it would give Daemon the freedom to remarry and sire legal heirs on another wife. That would give him a powerbase by having an alternative line separate from the children of Viserys, and honestly, she could see Daemon try something to place the crown on the head of his own son if he could not have the Iron Throne himself. 

“How is it going with the search for a bridegroom for Princess Rhaenyra?” she wondered, changing the subject. 

Bad news on that front. Rhaenyra was getting closer and closer to her sixteenth birthday, which would mark her as a legal adult by law, and there was still no chosen suitor in sight despite there being a lot of fine young men who would make good matches for her. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

Driftmark, about eight months into year 113 A.C: 

Much to the confirmed worries of his mother and maternal grandmother who had realized the same problem as Alicent and those in the Sisterhood who had guessed his true attraction, Laenor did not react well to hearing that Viserys demanded him as the bridegroom to his daughter, because Rhaenyra had failed the deadline by not choosing a future husband prior to her sixteenth birthday. 

“No…please…no…. I can not…not with any woman, no matter how pleasant she is of character or how fair she is…!” 

His honest breakdown in despair over those news, was not good. He had been honest about his taste for young men around his own age because he could trust Rhaenys and Jocelyn to not look down on him for this reveal, and while he and Joffrey Lonmouth had managed to hide their relationship from Corlys by how the Lord of Driftmark still was involved with Daemon on the Stepstones, those news about him having to get married had caused a emotional meltdown. 

“We tried to tell the King that Rhaenyra needs a different bridegroom! That I have already allied House Velaryon and Targaryen together by marrying Corlys! But did my cousin listen? Nooooo!” 

They could hear Seasmoke roar from the outside as a reaction to feeling how his rider was not well, emotionally, as Rhaenys hugged her son, allowing him to cry bitterly against her shoulder. 

“I can not marry Rhaenyra…I will not be able to…” 

“Shhh, grandson,” Jocelyn whispered gently in his ear, “do not despair yet. We will ask the Sisterhood for some discreet help about the… the consummation of the marriage and the procreation of children between the two of you.”

Whimpering something inaudible, Laenor could not bring himself to protest. He did like Rhaenyra, but only as a friend. In fact, he was terrified of how life would be as her Prince Consort, with all the eyes at court on him if he could not be left in peace at Dragonstone enough. 

“Go to Joffrey. Ride out on Seasmoke, both of you, do something together where no one can see you. But please, try to not give in to despair yet.” 

With the young knight being the favorite companion of Laenor, no one would question seeing them together. 

Much like her brother, Laena was not that happy over what the King had demanded. 

“Great news for House Velaryon that the heir is getting wed to the Crown Princess and that we will have a future royal heir with Velaryon blood, less so about who the couple is!” 

Laena knew that Rhaenyra had likely also protested against the match when she was told who her bridegroom would be, not out of dislike towards Laenor but for how her brother was known to prefer the company of young men his own age over any women. 

“According to what Queen Alicent wrote in this letter about witnessing the event with her own eyes, the King threatened to appoint Prince Aegon as his heir over Rhaenyra if she would not wed Laenor.” 

Jocelyn groaned over hearing this. It was the same thing happening again, the Targaryen King wanting to keep the power and any dragonriders within the direct family. With the brother-sister marriages successfully banned by the Faith and Sisterhood teaming up after the death of King Jaehaerys, this situation was a such result. Rather than Viserys forcing her to marry a suitor from a powerful House, Rhaenyra would wed the closest male relative that was not named Daemon, but there were already details that would cause trouble. 

“All we can do is to offer support for both Rhaenyra and Laenor, and pray that some help from the Sisterhood will ensure the birth of enough children so they can feel less pressure about heirs.” 

Perhaps it was a very passive act by them, but they could not risk doing something that could cause danger to either Laenor or Rhaenyra. There was enough plotting with the enemies of Rhaenyra NOT wanting to see her sitting on the Iron Throne instead of the ten years younger Aegon. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X    

Just as Laena had said, it was not that Rhaenyra personally disliked Laenor, far from it, but she was clever enough to realize there being a very good reason to why he was never seen in the company of any women outside his direct family. 

“If he is one of those sword-swallowers…damn you, father! Did you honestly think that I would be able to get pregnant quickly with such a husband?!” 

Laenor acted a perfect gentleman during this remaining period between the betrothal and their wedding, never doing anything indecent with her, but Rhaenyra could see in his eyes that he was just as “happy” as herself about that her father seemed blind to the lack of sparks between them. 

No, the main problem was the unspoken expectations that she would find herself pregnant by Laenor within a couple of months after the wedding, to secure her own line of heirs. He did not pull back in badly hidden disgust then they touched hands or anything such, but Rhaenyra had a nagging feeling that anything more intimate in nature, was impossible to expect between them. 

“I need a child quickly if I can remove Aegon as the spare after myself…!” 

Her eyes fell upon Criston Cole, who was changing with one of the other Kingsguard members in guarding her father in the Throne chamber. She had always found him handsome even as a young girl, and to be honest, he was part of the reason why she had gone to uncle Daemon to ask for some private lessons in how to seduce a future husband. 

So the very evening before the wedding, Rhaenyra asked Criston to come inside her chambers for something she needed some help with. 

“Princess, you wondered if I could help you?”

Just to not shock him and ruin her plans before the door was closed, she had covered herself in a long robe. 

“Yes…I was thinking of putting those flowers from Laenor above my mirror to have something nice to look upon when waking up tomorrow, but I am not tall enough the upper part to reach without having to step up on a stool and it would not look good if I was limping tomorrow from a injured ankle, do you not agree?” 

Red roses that had been trimmed to remove the thorns, likely grown in a glass house because this was the wrong season for them to grow outside.

“Of course, Princess.” 

He could see why she needed help, her dressing table with the large, imported mirror from Myr was taller than herself and as Rhaenyra said, it would not look good if she was injured right before one of the biggest events of her life. 

“At the very top?”

“Yes, please." 

Since he had his back turned to her, and blocked her reflection by how he stood in front of the mirror, Rhaenyra hurried to undress herself from the covering robe before he turned around. 

“I am glad to help you even if this is not the usual thing I do…?!” 

The Kingsguard member froze at seeing how she was barely dressed, only wearing a thin silk chemise that did not exactly hide her body. Furthermore, she had moved to stand in front of the closed door, not allowing him an easy way out. 

“Criston, you know as well as I, that Laenor has no recognized bastards to prove that he can sleep with women. I need heirs, and I doubt that he can give them. Do you remember that day when you and Father found me and uncle Daemon together? It was because I wanted you. Not just as my sworn sword and a member of the Kingsguard. ” 

Inside his mind, Criston was slowly being filled up with drawing horror at what Rhaenyra said. 

“I swore an oath to remain celibate, meaning no marriage or lovers, when entering the Kingsguard!” he said, hoping to reason with her before things went wrong. 

“And yet you do not look at me with totally innocent eyes like you did when I was younger! Do not deny it, you want me, right?”

He paled when she said this in a harsh voice. He had prayed that she would not notice that, because with how much time they spent together everyday, it had been impossible to miss how she was becoming more filled out at some places… 

Feeling how he was trapped, Criston tried to keep himself under control. 

“....only if you agree to us eloping to Essos and living as a married couple there.”

From how offended she looked at hearing it, she did not like the answer. 

“If you are that willing to break your oaths as a Kingsguard, then how sure can I be of you staying loyal to marriage oaths? And I was meant to be more than the wife of a common sellsword.” 

This struck a nerve for Criston. 

“...How dare you…?” he growled in a angry voice that he had never used around her before, causing Rhaenyra to flinch, “How dare you think that you can do as you pleases and escaping punishment if we slept together tonight, while it would be MY head severed from my body by the executioner's axe if your father, the King ever was to find out that your firstborn was actually a bastard not sired by your legal husband?! ” 

Then, Rhaenyra gave a response that would really ruin things between them: 

“If you are such a coward below all the courage that I have witnessed from you before and not helping me in this matter, then I will find someone else to get me the children that Laenor is unlikely to give me.” 

By this indirect reveal that she only saw him as a possible fling, a stud to get children from and not caring what sort of punishments he would face if this was revealed, the old vision of Rhaenyra as an pure-hearted and sweet Princess shattered like a broken mirror inside the mind of Criston, tainted black by what she had just said. Only the sudden knocking on the door prevented things from turning really ugly in that moment, because Criston was still dressed in his full white armor, sword at his hip, while Rhaenyra was basically naked. 

“Princess? I have brought the scented oils you wanted for tomorrow,” the voice of her maid was heard. 

Tossing her robe at her before pushing Rhaenyra aside, Criston stormed out from her chamber. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

The following day, the seventh day of the year 114 A.C, was the wedding between Rhaenyra and Laenor. He could see that she was troubled by something, but this was not the right place to ask if it was something personal. 

“I hope that we can work things out, despite…well, you know.” 

She smiled a little at hearing this, feeling better and trying to put the event from yesterday behind her. To be honest, Rhaenyra had been a little scared by that furious glare Criston had given her when she rejected the suggestion to run away to Essos, and she had not seen him during the day so far. 

In the tourney to celebrate the wedding, Rhaenyra gave her favor to Ser Harwin Strong, while Laenor gave his to Joffrey. Some people noticed that Ser Criston had asked for the favor of Queen Alicent, but did not think too deeply about it. Perhaps the Princess wanted a different champion this time

“I am glad that you are not taking part, Laenor, it would not be good if I was widowed mere hours after swearing the marriage oaths.” 

Her husband smiled sadly at those words, and responded: 

“I prefer to ride on Seasmoke…” 

However, in the melee, Harwin lost against Criston, leaving him with a broken collarbone and shattered elbow, prompting the court fool Mushroom to call him “Brokenbones” instead of the usual “Breakbones” nickname that Harwin had earned from a young age due to being massive and formable in fights. 

“Mushroom, no more bad jokes!” Alicent warned in annoyance, and did not protest as her great-aunt Aurora Hightower sent the dwarf away with a small dose of magic. 

“Next up, Ser Criston Cole of the Kingsguard, and Ser Joffrey Lonmouth!” 

To the horror of the freshly married couple and quite a lot of other onlookers, Criston attacked Joffrey with a morningstar like he was a hunting dog catching prey, cracking his helm with the deafening sound. 

“JOFFREY!!! ” 

The horrified screams from Lord and Lady Lonmouth as they saw their son collapse, echoed as several others rushed forwards to force Criston into stopping from injuring the other knight even more. 

“That is ENOUGH, you horrible brute!” 

Trapping the movements of Criston with some magical chains, Aurora hurried over to the still body of Joffrey, Laenor and the Lord and Lady Lonmouth following her, even Alicent. 

“Is he…?” 

Checking by laying a finger on the carotid artery for any heartbeat, Aurora could tell that it had been a fatal hit. Shaking on her head to confirm, Laenor just barely managed to keep himself together as Lady Lonmouth let out a heartbreaking wail, though everyone could see how horrified he was over this sudden death by his companion and good friend. 

“Ser Criston… was this an honest accident? ” the old witch asked loud enough to be heard beyond the group as the grief-stricken Lord and Lady Lonmouth cradled the broken head of their first son in their arms, glaring at the bound Kingsguard member, raising her wooden staff to cast some magic that would force him to only say the truth. 

“Yes. I was caught up in the heat of battle and lost control. ”

He was speaking the truth, but there was something that Aurora felt to not be quite the truth too. There was an unspoken anger deep within Ser Criston, a desire to hurt , and Joffrey had been unlucky to become the target for that wrath in a sport where injuries were to be expected. 

“You will pay the full bill for transportation of his body back to his family home and the burial. And swear to not lay a finger on the younger children of House Lonmouth else you will be the cause of the loss of all their offspring. ” 

Alicent felt that there was something wrong, for her great-aunt to demand such a magical oath from Ser Criston after that he had answered that he had not intended to kill Ser Joffrey. 

“I swear to not harm the younger children of Lord and Lady Lonmouth, in my honor as a knight and Kingsguard.”

But as he left the area, Criston felt some dark pleasure over that his secret goal by killing Joffrey, well-known to be Laenor's best friend, confidante, and possible lover; to spite both Rhaenyra and Laenor and sour their celebratory occasion, was a success. 

And by feeling that dark pleasure, a similar one to what Otto Hightower felt over that Criston had been the champion of his daughter this time and seemed to have some fall-out with Princess Rhaenyra, both Criston and Otto was attracting an unseen enemy of both the Sisterhood and the descendants of Aegon the First:

The ghost of Svetlana, the infamous Witch Queen of Harren the Black, the user of Black Magic that had seen what he could offer her as a team.

Perfect, perfect. Two pawns to use because of how close they were to the royal family, what exquisite desires that she could use. 

If she played them both right, that Princess would ruin herself with time because Criston could become a very dangerous enemy, and make Otto think that the best way to put little Aegon on the Iron Throne was to use forbidden arts. 

Perhaps this time she would succeed in using the Sisterhood as the best human sacrifice to seize power over all of Westeros. Too bad that she had failed more than half a century ago because the captured Witches had joined their remaining lifeforce together to curse the Iron Throne and kill their captor, since that King calling himself Maegor the Cruel had been a wonderful asset, because she had sensed extraordinary tracks of him being conceived by black magic to the barren Queen Visenya Targaryen when she had been desperate to give Aegon a back-up heir after how Aenys had proven himself to be very lacking as the son of the dragon riding Conqueror. 

And just like how blood connections to previous Hightower Witches had allowed Alicent a faint sense when something magical happened, the same thing happened now to Princess Helaena Targaryen. 

“Monster! Monster! Monster!” the four-year-old Princess cried upon Ser Criston passing by the nursemaids and their royal changes, though everyone believed that her unusual behavior was from a very exhausting day and that perhaps Queen Alicent or her headmaid Alys was needed to help comfort the young girl.

“Begone, Ser Cole!” 

“Begone!” 

Both six-year-old Aegon and three-year-old Aemond seemed to think that it was Ser Criston who had scared their sister with the still fresh blood from Joffrey on his white armor, holding Helaena between them in an attempt to shield her from the adult man. He did so, but no one could really figure out why Helaena kept crying about a monster and that there was a scary woman somewhere in the crowd. 

Chapter Text

The rest of the week-long celebrations over the royal wedding was a lot more moderate, after how the death of Joffrey so visibly broke Laenor. Even Rhaenyra could not find the right mood for it, and few protested when they took flight towards Dragonstone on their dragons as soon as they could get away from the Red Keep.    

“Are the ships with our chosen guards and household following after us still?” 

“Yes, not far behind us.”

Silence echoed between them, apart from the sounds of the wings as the dragons flew and the usual sounds that were to be expected from the sea and winds on a reasonably fine day like this in winter. 

“Nyra…I am sorry about saying this when we are freshly married and all that, but I am really not in the…mood for…you know…” 

She could not blame him, if he wanted to fly home to Driftmark for some time and get a chance to personally mourn Joffrey in peace without a lot of eyes on him. Rhaenyra had only met Joffrey a few times during the courtship, but she had seen why Laenor had fallen for the same-aged knight. Besides, she was still shocked by the brutality that Criston Cole had used when killing Joffrey. It was alarmingly easy to imagine herself being the target instead, with that fury that she had seen on his face the evening before the wedding. 

“Can you try coming to Dragonstone in two weeks or so? Just to keep up the public image that we are not already estranged like my uncle and Lady Rhea Royce.”

That Laenor could agree to, because both their respective fathers would keep a close eye on them. 

“Again, give Harwin my thanks for his sympathy over Joffrey despite not knowing our true relationship!” 

But what neither Rhaenyra, Laenor or Harwin Strong could imagine in that moment as the heir to Driftmark bode Seasmoke to fly towards his home island, was that their future relationships between each other was going to plant seeds of a possible disaster because House Strong was the current Lords of Harrenhal and that this had been noticed by a ghost from the past who intended to use this to create gaps between the different sides of House Targaryen and prevent them from becoming a unit against different opponents. 

I saw it, Dragon Princess. You like the young Ser Strong, huh? You want to be bedded by him.  

In short, while Rhaenyra had managed to keep it hidden from public view for now, the ghost of Svetlana correctly guessed what the Targaryen Princess aimed for: passing off any child sired by Harwin as a child of Laenor because the Velaryon heir had agreed to it, but failed to remember a rather important detail; That with the completely different looks on both of them, especially traits that neither Rhaenyra herself or Laenor would have from their family trees, there was a serious risk that someone with sharp eyes would detect crucial differences between Laenor and his "legitimate" offspring.

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

Last Hearth, the North: 

Having very politely refused to attend the royal wedding between Rhaenyra and Laenor, Gael was instead spending time at home with her foster parents. It was a great pleasure that Rahima had brought Aziz with her on visit, and all six of her foster siblings with their own respective families had arrived as well. That meant Hildegard and Gorm being there too, as the wife and son of Harald while Boremund had attended the royal wedding for them. 

“Gorm looks like he has some fun with all the northern relatives here,” Hildegard laughed as Harald got a snowball tossed in his face by their son, and the other children joined in at teaming up against the adults. Well, Aemma kept herself in the background and made new snowballs for the children, on the grounds that she could not exactly see if she was getting a snowball aimed at her. 

“It is important for them to have fun or they will not enjoy life well.” 

Well, there was one little one who was extra dressed for the cold, because he was not used to the temperature. 

“Are you feeling cold, Aziz?” Rahima asked her son, having seen him take shelter from the snowball fight and just hid away behind the created wall of snow from earlier.

“No-huh! Wanna play!” the boy responded from inside the layers of woolen clothes and warm furs that they dressed him in earlier in the day. Out of the children in various ages, he wore the most layers of clothing, yet he was shivering a little with the way he was hugging himself. 

“No way that he is freezing with me to heat him up!” 

Hugging Aziz from behind, Safiya used some of her lava powers to make him stop shivering. 

“We too!” 

“Safiya, warm us too!” 

Of course, this was noticed by the other children, who ran towards her with open arms. 

“Oi, I am not a walking fire for you to use!”

The parents only laughed at this, because Gael would sometimes find herself hugged in the same manner whatever someone felt the South was being a little too warm compared to what they were used to, even in summer. 

In the evening once all the youngest children finally were asleep after a long day, Hildegard was reading a letter from Boremund about what had happened at the wedding between Laenor and Rhaenyra. 

“Criston Cole not wearing the token of the Princess at the tourney? That is quite unusual, from what I have seen myself.” 

Those who had been at the royal court regularly over the years, could see why this confused Hildegard. 

“Did they have a fallout over something and need some distance between them to cool off before managing to talk about it in a more civil manner again, perhaps? From what Lord Boremund writes, there is no mentioned Kingsguard to keep being her sworn sword now after getting married and setting up her own household at Dragonstone.” 

Looking over a letter addressed to herself, Gael realized a possible reason: 

“Alicent is pregnant again, it could be Viserys finally getting some common sense and wanting to keep his younger children safe…in case there is something aiming to cause trouble.”

She did not need to mention the name of Daemon. With Rhaenyra now legally married so she would soon start having her own children and Alicent carrying her third son and last child under her heart, the younger brother of King Viserys would be pushed even lower in the succession order. 

“Speaking about him, the Sisterhood needs to make a choice about what to do with the Stepstones soon, it will be eight years of that wasteful war in late summer and Daemon is not showing any signs of willingly stopping,” Rahima reminded, treating herself to a fresh summer apple from the gardens of Last Hearth. 

“Ugh, I am getting a headache just from imagining all the work…” 

“Besides, what is Daemon going to do afterwards? Being a guest of various important people in the Free Cities?” 

Gael could perfectly imagine Daemon getting rejected by Saera personally from her villa in Volantis, because her older sister saw their shared nephew as a troublemaker that would never learn from his previous failures. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

As it turned out over the coming months, Rhaenyra and Alicent had their pregnancies and expected due date for the births very close in timing, and for some, it became a bet on who would give birth first. The Crown Princess, or the Queen. 

“Of course they are betting money on this,” Alicent signed when Alys informed her about what was happening. With Noelle having confirmed that Rhaenyra would have five sons, Alicent did not doubt what the gender of the royal grandchild would be, but she was worried about her own, youngest son getting overshadowed by his nephew already from birth. 

“It will happen as the Gods see fit.” 

But there was one third pregnancy, apart from the two royal ones, that also got attention. And true to what Corlys and Rhaenys had been told by Noelle several years earlier, the 40th birthday of Rhaenys on the 7th day of the 7th month in the year 114 A.C, did came with a unexpected beginning: 

“CORLYS!! THIS IS MY LAST CHILDBIRTH, YOU HEAR ME!?! ” 

Few of the present midwives blamed the Lady of Driftmark for being angry at her husband for knocking her up with such a timing so the delivery had to be today of all days, when Lord and Lady Velaryon had planned something quite different for her birthday. 

“Rhaenys, dear, you can scream and toss stuff at Corlys later once the little one has entered the world, ok?” Jocelyn suggested with a calmness next to her daughter that Laena wished that she could share, as Rhaenys groaned from another labor pain. With Laena now being eighteen years old, she has found herself dragged into the birthing chamber to get a real lesson in what childbirth involved, because the Sealord of Braavos had started to send Corlys some rather serious threats about ending the betrothal between Laena and his son if the War over the Stepstones did not end within a year. 

“Just want the brat out of me already…”

“Get up on the birthing chair, Rhaenys, and let us see what sort of birthday gift Corlys gave you back when,” Gael commanded, washing her hands in warm water to keep them clean. 

“I really mean that this will be my last childbirth…” 

Given that they were not sure of the exact date when Rhaenys had become pregnant, everyone worried about this being a premature birth that risked breaking the hearts of the married couple again by the Stranger taking another baby from them. 

“Oho! Finally that son-in-law of mine is doing something better than aiding Daemon in that meaningless war, I must say!” 

“Get the rest of the family in here!”

The cries of a newborn told Corlys, Laenor and Rhaenyra on the other side of the closed door that it was not a feared stillbirth, at least. 

“Are everything fine with Rhaenys?” 

“Look for yourself, Corlys.” 

As he was standing in a different angle than his stunned son and shocked daughter-in-law, Corlys had to take a double-check upon seeing what Jocelyn meant. 

“Twins!? ” 

“Boys, to be precise. You gave Rhaenys a very good birthday gift, if somewhat troublesome one by timing it to her own birthday.” 

With Corlys being frozen in shock over the news that Driftmark now had three sons from his marriage, Rhaenys took the chance to name the twins before he did: 

“Addam and Alyn, after two younger brothers of Argella Durrandon that sadly died young.”

With this choice in names, Rhaenys took a chance to honor her mother and the ancient House Durrandon, which had been forced to change surname into Baratheon, the surname of Orys, after the death of Argella in 47 A.C under death threats of Maegor the Cruel.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Eventually as the ninth month of the year arrived, it turned out that Alicent was the one to enter labor first, seven days before Rhaenyra. And just as Noelle had promised, her third son entered the world. 

“Daeron…” 

It was like seeing the newborn Aegon seven years earlier, with golden brown hair, but this time, Gael would not need to bleach a few of his tiny looks to avoid any doubts about the newborn prince being legitimate. His nose, purple eyes, all of it was Viserys. 

“Four healthy children. What else can I ask for?” the King spoke in a rare soft voice to his wife, as Daeron was presented to his father. 

“Thank you, sire.” 

But Alicent did not miss how Viserys ordered how Daeron and the unborn child of Rhaenyra would share a wet nurse, in the hope that being milk siblings would create a strong bond between the infants as they grew older. 

“Oh no. I am not letting Daeron board a ship at this tender age, or have him be brought to Dragonstone by Laenor or Rhaenys on their dragons as the fastest way there!” 

Most other mothers at court did agree that Alicent was right, and that Viserys really had not been thinking about the travel distance between the capital and Dragonstone. A newborn infant was most safe in the arms of the mother, and the idea of bringing said baby on a journey like that? A lot of dangers could happen to the little one, no matter how well-protected it would be by the best guards and a army of nursemaids. 

Exactly seven days later at Dragonstone, seventeen-year-old Rhaenyra gave birth as well inside the chambers that had been prepared for her. Much to the joy of the King who had arrived to witness this important event for his daughter, she birthed a healthy son. For now, much to the relief for both Rhaenyra and Laenor, he thankfully was quite anonymous in looks, not revealing the truth of his paternity. 

“A grandson! The Princess has been blessed with a son of her own!” 

Gathering at the door to the birthchamber, visiting courtiers was pesting Laenor about whatever they had talked about names for the baby, depending on which gender of course, but before he could answer, Corlys put a firm end to any questions: 

“Jacaerys. ” 

A traditional Velaryon name. Rhaenyra saw how Laenor looked away in distress at that, because they had talked about maybe naming the child after Joffrey if it was a boy, but her father-in-law clearly had guessed what his son intended and found it not suitable to name a baby after a dead lover. 

“I am sorry,” she managed to whisper to Laenor as he returned to sit at her bed, allowing him to hold the baby that was not his own. 

“I will invite Harwin to come to Dragonstone soon, so he can meet our shared baby,” he promised. 

By a royal decree from his grandfather, little Prince Jacaerys got a dragon egg in the cradle, and soon, the birth of a dragon hatchling was proving that the baby would be a future dragon rider. 

“I do not feel too comfortable with the idea of a dragon hatchling being found in the cradle of Daeron. Mainly because I fear the possibility of him getting bitten or burned,” Alicent told Alys as her three older children came on their daily visit to their mother and newest sibling. 

“A dragon is a wild beast at heart, Alicent,” the other woman reminded her gently as she picked Helaena up in her arms, “and to think of them as domesticated even if they are handed by humans since hatching from their eggs, is…an error that can prove dangerous. Look at Gael and Frostfyre: they bonded when Gael was ten, but even after all those years she knows better than lowering her guard around that Ice Dragon. And some of the riderless dragons at Dragonstone have returned to roaming free despite having been around humans earlier.” 

“Are dragons…bad?” 

The unexpected question from Helaena made them both pause in the talk they had. 

“All wild animals can be dangerous, Helaena,” Alys hurried to explain, “because they are not used to humans and especially animal mamas with their young babies to protect.”

“Like our mama!” Aegon commented loudly, tossing his arms out without warning so he almost hit poor Aemond by mistake. 

“Thank you for those kind words, Aegon.” 

No, the idea of her infant son being defenseless against a living animal in the cradle was a very good reason for Alicent to keep her children away from the Dragonpit until they were older. As the saying went after the Field of Fire, “Dragons plants no trees” as a warning of how they could kill and bring destruction. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

If one was to compare the southern parts of Westeros and the lands beyond the Wall where the Free Folk lived, it was safe to almost call the witches and members of the Sisterhood here for shamans and folk healers. 

“A prayer for a merciful winter where not too many will starve from a reduced food supply because the spring will be late in arrival. A prayer that not too many will die from illness or the cold temperature.”

Compared to the minor royal drama in the Red Keep, here in the lands beyond the Wall, life was reasonably peaceful here for the time being and most people could see how different Gael acted with the wast distance from the royal family: 

This far north, the Ice Witch came off as far more relaxed and self-confident . And why not? Even in the warmer seasons when there was no snow or ice to be found, few doubted that this was her territory, her powerbase, her own realm where she was uncrowned Queen. 

“Look at how joyful she smiles for once, Arne…” Tyra sighed, feeling that her foster daughter was carrying a lot of unneeded loads on her shoulders because of how the royal family had a bad habit of causing wide-spread drama. 

“Aye. Gael deserves a long break from whatever Daemon, Viserys and Rhaenyra will likely cause. She should only have to worry about her duties as a witch and as a mother raising her own daughters, not getting involved in stupid things that can be prevented and stopped by blowing holes in the egos of others.” 

Arne hoped that no matter what, Last Hearth and House Umber would always be a place where Gael could find peace from the troubles of the world. Her own dual nature as a Ice Witch born in a family of dragonriders and strong connections to fire, was not always easy for her to handle, despite all the support and love she got from others. 

“Mother and the others are dancing as part of the prayer, right?” Aemma asked, listening to the chanting and sounds of movements to try and form a mental image in her mind. Just because she was blind from birth and kept her eyes closed most of the time to avoid unwanted comments about her handicap, did not mean that she was helpless. 

“Yes, they are, Aemma.” 

With how much humankind had moved across Westeros and settled down in various places over the years, it sadly had affected the Children of the Forest as well. Ever since the Long Night and the defeat of the Others eight thousand years ago, the Sisterhood had managed to protect those who remained, but it was hard to not see the truth of how the human race had already proved to be stronger than the Children on the grounds of how many offspring a human couple could have together during their fertile years, and how they were able to have descendants in a shorter time. 

“It is regrettable to hear that the Children one day will go extinct because of us humans and the demand for more land to settle down into as the current settlements ends up too crowded for everyone to keep living there.” 

Fiona, one of the Free Folk witches, had been visiting one of the last remaining villages of the Children to give the Sisterhood an update on how things were for this mysterious non-human race. 

“It is our self-brought punishment,” the oldest Child, basically a village elder by human standards, told her, “We once thought that the First Men would only stay for a few decades or centuries, before disappearing back to their original homelands beyond the sea. War broke out when we tried to force them into leaving through our own use of magic and they responded by using their bronze weapons as protection, and we failed to realize that we could not keep up with their speed about having offspring to replace those who died and grow faster in numbers.” 

Fiona bowed her head in sorrow. Humankind had its good and bad sides, claiming anything else would be naive, and sadly, this was one of the things that the Sisterhood would be unable to prevent. 

“Beware of the southern-born Ice Witch if she was forced into a situation where she unleashes her full strength, though. Out of all Ice Witches born since the First Witches, she has the promise to be the closest in power over winter and cold to the Others, if she was pushed hard enough.” 

Uh-huh. That was a clear warning, Fiona realized with some dread. Not that Gael would try to harm any innocents in such a situation, but rather for how wide-spread an outburst of her powers would become. There was a very good reason why Gael had that tattoo on her back, to help keep her powers under control and place a limit of how much she would release whatever she used magic. 

“Have you seen a possible future where she is pushed beyond her limits?! Or something triggering her to willingly use her full power!?” 

Fiona paled in fear when thinking of various scenarios where Gael could find her full power to be the only way to stop a massive disaster. Daemon proving himself too dangerous to stay alive and Gael only being stopped by the taboo of kinslaying, some madness from the royal family that would affect the whole of Westeros, the Targaryen dragons no longer obeying their riders and attacking humans… 

“Thank you for this warning. Gael won't like to hear it, but she will understand why I am passing this on to her.” 

Fiona could only pray that Gael would never enter such a situation where she had to do this, because she was still human and even if she was able to reach the legendary absolute zero temperature, her mortal body would not be able to stand it. To try and reach that level of coldness in a desperate situation…was basically a demanded suicide as the cost and why the North and the Free Folk refused to let this happen to any Ice Witches. Because it was a Ice Witch who had figured out how to fight the Others by using their own control over cold temperature against them, and had played a key role in their defeat by the First Witches. 

No matter how the South misjudged the Ice Witches, or even had the nerve to falsely claim that the First Ice Witch originally had been a Other herself that betrayed her own race for a unknown reason, or the absolutely ridiculous idea of her as being the actually impossible result of a star-crossed romance between a human and a Other, Ice Witches was saviors along with other Weather Witches during really bad times for the North and that was why everyone had accepted Gael despite her being born in House Targaryen. 

Her birth family being dragonriders and having a lineage from the Valyrian Freehold did not matter when she was a member of the Sisterhood, it was her magical powers that were more important for the people around her who sought her help for something. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X   

On the other hand, Safiya had left the North for both a personal mission and a test of her magical strength. Right now, she had arrived at Dragonmont, the volcano at Dragonstone. 

“Oi, you old bastard. Get your scaled ass out of here, you are blocking the lair of the previous Lava witches and I am the heir to their secrets in there,” she called out loudly, undressing so she only kept her basic layers of clothing, else she would have gotten too warm from the lava and heat around the cave she was standing in front of. The angry roar of a fully grown adult and very bad-tempered dragon answered her from the depths of the lair, and the Cannibal attempted to make a living snack out of the young girl. 

“Think that you are scary, compared to Frostfyre who can tear your long throat off your body and come out as the victorious one in a battle against male dragons whatever it is mating season? That is my mother!” 

Shooting up lava from cracks in the rock, Safiya blocked the dragon fire that would have roasted any other person alive.  

“I would not be surprised at all if you were originally an egg in the cradle for Maegor the Cruel and he tossed your unhatched egg away in favor of Balerion because he did not want to wait until you were old enough to be ridden. You are nothing else than a violent brute, just like him!”  

By growing up around Frostfyre literally straight after birth, Safiya knew from a young age that she had to be very careful around the Cannibal and other dragons, even those who had their own riders and were used to humans. They were still wild, massive beasts at heart, and thinking that the dragons would blindly obey a dragonrider just because of given commands or something like that, was asking for trouble. 

“Keep myself firmly to the ground where I can use the lava and molten rocks to defend myself against his fire breath…he can fly, and my broom is made out of wood! If it is set on fire, I risk crash landing badly even if I use some lava to catch myself!” 

The same with her staff, made from birch wood. She had to think carefully, not rush into something, try to outsmart the black feral dragon. 

“Here, an explosive eruption for you!” 

Knowing that there were people living here at Dragonstone, and how a massive volcanic eruption was not only affecting humans and animals but also risked to damage the local landscape, Safiya tried to keep any of her magic to a minimum and limited it to around where she was standing. 

“Fine, you overgrown flying lizard, time to stop playing and have a burning dance!” 

Sending up balls of burning lava against the Cannibal, Safiya aimed to overwhelm the dragon by how unlikely it was to face an enemy like herself. Other dragons avoided the black dragon, and humans did the same. Even the Sisterhood was weary about him because of his fearsome size, violent temper and sometimes being far too eager to try eating passing witches as they flew past him on their brooms. 

“HEART OF MAGMA!! ”

An explosion of lava and molten rocks flew up in the air around Safiya, as the Cannibal was first trapped inside a cloud of volcanic gas, pulverized pumice and hot ash so he could not see anything. By instinct, the dragon opened its mouth to breathe fire, but this proved to be a fatal mistake as Safiya aimed several molten rocks into his mouth so he almost choked on the lava forced into his throat. Following this, a lava fountain burst out directly under the Cannibal, badly burning his leathery wings and proving that even age-hardened dragon scales had its limits against such forces of nature. 

“Time to end your life here and now, damned beast!”   

Placing her wide open palm on the ground, Safiya opened up a new crater, big enough to be even triple the size of the dragon, and watched how the Cannibal fell into the lava with one last, furious roar before he was roasted alive and the lava covering his whole body. 

“Forget the idea of dragons being near unkillable to humans,” Safiya muttered, to no one that could hear it, “If the Rhoynar could figure out that using siege weapons on dragons could both injury and actually kill them if the angle was right, and Yasmine Uller managing to kill both Queen Rhaenys and her dragon by shooting a scorpion bolt into the eye of Meraxes, then why should not a witch be able to kill a dragon by mixing her power, some cunning and common sense?” 

Of course, she was not blind to the fact that not all witches had the requested power or ability to kill a dragon, but perhaps by teaming up several witches and then acting as a unit, it was possible. 

“Ugh…it reeks of dragon here!” she groaned in disgust at entering the cave and seeing the sorry mess inside, not merely dried blood on the walls from what the Cannibal had eaten and bones, but what she had feared: 

Few belongings of the previous Lava witches had managed to survive the flames of the dragon in here, and she would have a major job trying to restore what remained and create new magical runes for any testing for her own successors with this form of elemental magic. 

“What I worry about, is that the last Lava witch before me, Iona of the Free Folk, mysteriously vanished without a trace the very year before Visenya Targaryen was born. If somehow, she was caught by Aerion by using some form of dark magic from Valyria and secretly is the true birth mother of the Targaryen trio rather than Valaena Velaryon…”   

Safiya shuddered in fear of the possibility that Visenya, Aegon and Rhaenys could have been so powerful and dangerous during the Conquest by having a magically enslaved Lava witch as their true birth mother, who could have been killed once Aerion had enough children from the unwilling Iona and how this could be a connection to the Targaryens being so associated with the destructive side of fire though their dragons. It made far too much sense that Aerion Targaryen would be behind the disappearance of Iona, because no witnesses had seen her as among those witches killed at Harrenhal and there was also the fact that Valaena had died from a illness not long after the birth of Rhaenys, leaving Aerion to raise his three children as a widower. If Aerion had made his legal wife pregnant around the same time as Iona to explain where his children came from, and possibly had slowly poisoned Valaena to make her own memory have gaps of the births to pass off Visenya, Aegon and Rhaenys as her actual children and also make it seem like she had never recovered from the third birth… 

Dragons plants no trees. 

No, she could see why her mother Gael worried so much about House Targaryen finding out that Gael had borne a daughter at the age of nineteen. Not merely for that she had a Dothraki Khal as a father and would be viewed as a bastard by most Westerosi terms if Gael had not been a witch herself, but for the risk of Safiya becoming a target for something horrible by her own material relatives because of her magical powers connected to lava and fire. 

And going by what the records said about Iona, she was highly unlikely to have entered a romance with Aerion for several reasons, such as actually being a lesbian in a established relationship at the time of her disappearance, him being a married man, and almost getting burned alive by Balerion at one point, giving her an honest terror of the dragons and avoiding Dragonstone as much as she could, unless she had to be there as a sort of reminder to ensure that she could still control lava without slipping out of control at a critical moment… 

“No, Mother,” Safiya said in a raised voice, “I will not let the Targaryens realize who I am, not after all the work you have done already to keep my existence hidden from them. I will not allow myself to be used to adding more inbreeding into the royal family, or to try giving any resulting children a stronger resistance against heat to further sell the idea that House Targaryen are not normal humans. ” 

Aegon, Aemond and Daeron were no threat on that point, unless they made some alarming personality swap that made them act the very opposite of how Alicent tried to raise them. No, it was Daemon that posed the biggest threat, that Safiya herself had witnessed. He had already managed to deflower Rhaenyra, herself just two years older than Safiya, three years ago. Him somehow finding out that she was a Lava witch and getting a similar idea to Aerion was bad enough to imagine. 

“It is time to end the meaningless war over the Stepstones with Daemon losing everything he has struggled to do in that fight, and ruin him so much that he can never recover.”

Kinslaying was out of question, of course, since Daemon was her own, older cousin by blood, but Safiya recalled how much the Dothraki, her paternal culture, hated the Valyrian Freehold and any reminder of their time as slaves under the dragonriders, not to mention what aunt Saera once had said that she would never hesitate to pay a demanded ransom for Gael, Safiya or Aemma if it was needed, but refuse to spend even the most worthless of coins on Daemon in a such situation. 

“Mother would love to have aunt keep true to that promise…” 

If Daemon came off as the losing side in a peace agreement over the Stepstones, and made a foolish mistake in his wounded pride that not even Viserys could protect him from, then he would no longer be able to escape a self-caused disaster for himself.   

Chapter Text

With Gael being the first, and so far only, known witch in the whole history of the Sisterhood to successfully have gotten an Ice Dragon as her spirit animal, she had been expecting unknown side-effects of that relationship, as she did not exactly have any useful advice from someone else about what to do in certain situations.  

Now, there generally was no major problems with how Frostfyre would react when the mating season arrived closer and closer, as this period only happened every fifth year, but this year, in the first month of year 115 since the Conquest, proved to be a bad one.

“Could it be a reaction to Safiya being more or less an adult now and Aemma is no longer a small child that is always needing her parents?” Rahima asked, referring to how the biological daughter of Gael was going to turn sixteen this year and her adopted one being nine years going on ten. 

“Would not…surprise me…!” Gael grasped, holding tightly to the linen bedding as she tried to keep herself in control. Being naked already and having tossed the furs aside, she was sweating like she would be in a really hot sauna, but the heat inside her was caused by something else. 

“After that really nice and long love-making just yesterday evening, you are almost worse than before…!” 

Rahima was honestly alarmed by how much Gael struggled to keep herself under control, as her bond to Frostfyre allowed her to sense how the female Ice Dragon right now had entered her current mating season and was aching for mating with a suitable male. 

“Lock the door from the outside and block people from entering unless I allow it! I do not want to assault one of my foster brothers or one of the servants just because Frostfyre is following her suvival instincts as a wild animal…!” 

A careful knock, and Tyra looked inside the chamber. 

“Um…Gael? I know that it may be poor timing given what is happening to you right now, but Cahal is in the group of traders from the Free Folk that just arrived at Last Hearth.” 

Sharing a look with Rahima, Gael tried to ask something without spoken words. The Uller witch ruffed her own hair in frustration. 

“Using my otherwise trusty dildo yesterday seemed to work to help you calm down enough to be able to sleep, but maybe your reaction today is because it is not a real one?” 

“...Rather Cahal than Daemon, if there was a choice! And not merely for Cahal being a non-relative!” Gael muttered, before biting again into her now rather poorly-looking pillow. 

“There was no problem for me to see how you can remain friends despite being old flames, my sweet frost flower.” 

Tossing a blanket over Gael just for the sake of some modesty if someone else was near, Rahima pulled her gown and overcoat on her so she could go out and search for the person needed. 

“Aziz, stay out of her chamber!  Adults only, today!” 

The protest from the boy was heard as he tried to follow after his birth mother. 

Thankfully for Gael, who felt very embarrassed about this whole situation, she did not need to wait long before the door was reopened. 

“Gael? Can I come in?” a male voice asked, and she could just barely whisper in response, heavy footsteps followed by the door being shut again. 

“...Did they tell you why I need some…help?” 

“Yes.” 

She dared to look up, taking in his familiar form, slightly more muscular and more ragged compared to their youth, but still that same aura of that he was someone to trust. This blonde man from the Free Folk had not been her first lover, but he had proved a much needed emotional support after the death of Maegelle and Gael had never regretted them losing their respective virginity together despite that they had not remained lovers throughout the following years. Instead, he remained a beloved friend, and she still trusted him in difficult situations.

“May I?” 

Gael did tense up at him coming closer to the bed, not out of fear but feeling how she wanted Cahal to touch her. 

“You have been struggling to focus on normal things,” Cahal said, low and calm, tranquil, almost, and Gael breathed in tightly. So her need to have sex was that obvious. Though she hadn’t put too much effort to hide her current problems, not when Rahima and she had been lovers for almost as long as her Aemma had lived. 

“I have,” she replied, covering her face with her hand, not out of shame but to try forcing herself to relax. She had never liked rough sex and found it very off-putting without much foreplay to settle the mood. 

“You are… frustrated,” Cahal continued, his unusual amber-coloured eyes watching her. 

Gael couldn't exactly deny it, with how she already was naked under the blankets, so she nodded. 

“Incredibly. ”

Cahal inhaled deeply, chest straining against the tight brown leather armor he wore under his travel cloak. Watching it was… 

Gael looked away.

“There is tension brewing deep within you, that can not really be explained with human logic,” Cahal offered gently, “thick and unbearable.” 

She managed to nod again. Then his tone took on a raspy, husky quality, a tone that made something deep and primal in Gael shiver: 

“Even if I can't feel it, I can almost smell it on you. It's so very strong.” 

And now the blood returned with a vengeance, and Gael’s face was burning hotter than before and she pressed her shaking hands to it.

“I am going to kill that female dragon,” she tried to joke, though it fell flat just as it had done when she had needed Rahima. Taking the last few steps to the bed, his strong, battle-worn fingers touched Gael's chin with all the gentleness of a spring breeze. 

“I am willing to help you from this agony, crystal dancer. I'd be eager to do so, if you want,” Cahal murmured. 

Crystal dancer. That old nickname he had called her, after first meeting Gael as she was dancing in a sun-lit cave filled with icicles hanging from the walls and almost mistaken her for a nature spirit because of how well her Targaryen looks had blended into the frozen landscape, yet her human skin tone, as her cheeks had been blushing in joy over the pleasant dance on a lovely day, had avoided a misunderstanding about her possibly being a female Other somehow returning after so many thousand years. 

Gael finally found the courage to meet Cahal's eyes. That amber was burning, hungry like the fire in her fireplace to keep the bedchamber warm during the nights, and Gael's breath caught in her throat. 

“Please. ”

Cahal may not be a southern noble raised to act like a gentleman around ladies, but that gentle, careful touch on her hand with a finger was enough. Seeing Gael relax, if only very small, Cahal turned away, shoulders shifting, and then his leather armor was rustling and coming off. Taking a quick look over his shoulder just to see if Gael might react with some animal-based instinct without warning, Cahal quietly set it on the ground. He crouched down to pull off his boots and gently set his sword in its scabbard next to his armor, helmet included. Now with only his braies on, he smoothed his strong hand through his pale hair, the light from the fire making it gleaming like gold.

“Relax, Gael,” Cahal soothed, low and nearly crooning in the way that the adult men in his tribe would do to charm women, “I am going to give you a massage first, get some of this tension out of your muscles first, and we shall see how you feel after that, yes?”

She drew a tight breath. 

“Y-Yes. Rahima and I managed to calm me down first with just that, but over the last week it has…grown worse.”

“Troublesome spirit animal you got, indeed. But I would have been far more worried today if you had been one of those people who never feels sexual attention to others and was content to live your life without sex.”

Gah! That sort of scenario would have been a living nightmare with how things were right now, indeed! She could already imagine how it would be for poor Rhea, who was one of those people. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

With him first warming up the oil by rubbing it in his hands first, the massage felt like a bliss, with the big, warm, callused hands of Cahal slowly working down her body, from neck and tense shoulder blades, along her arms and Cahal even gently picked up each hand to expertly dig his thumbs into the palms, the meaty parts, along the fingers.

“Reminds me of how we set the mood to old times between us. A full body massage to help both relax, and get used to seeing each other naked.” 

Down, gentle but firm, along her ribs, next to her spine, then the small of her back. Briefly, his buttocks, making her gasp and tense against the blankets, but Cahal was quick to move on, kneading the meat of Gael's thighs. Each leg, thigh, calf, foot and then back up. 

“You have added a few more scars here and there since then. But it is eighteen years that have passed.”

Gael would have answered, but a new wave of pure animal instincts though the bond to Frostfyre broke her off, as she pressed herself down in the mattress to not raise herself up on her hands and knees. Instead, she quickly turned herself over to her back. 

“You have not changed your view on being taken in that manner like an animal, I guess?” he asked, and she managed to find her voice to answer:

“No, I still do not like it from behind because it feels like my insides are getting stabbed and how my partner has most of the control, holding the hips and thrusting in and out of me! I prefer it more intimate with eye contact and such!”

Having his answer, Cahal gently kissed her on the lips, before moving to do so across her face and throat, his hands tenderly massaging her skin to keep the mood. The side of her neck endured another soft, teasing squeeze, and then that hand was migrating back downwards. Wherever those thick but dexterous fingers scoured another spot that made Gael twitch, hot lips greeted her skin. Kissing, mouthing, sucking. Teeth bared and brushed, and then the gentlest of bites, she arched and gasped. 

That inner heat which was her own and NOT that of Frostfyre was pumping through her now, traveling through her veins and making her whole body ache, in another way entirely, in a way that made her fingers shake and her hips twitched against the bed. Each touch was hungry but purposeful, teasing and drawing up the tension lurking in every crevice of Gael's being. 

“C-Cahal…” 

She arched, gasping, at the feel of that wet, hot tongue inside her as he tenderly lifted her thighs aside for better access and showed that he did remember how important foreplay was. No doubt that he had been with other women in those eighteen years, because they had broken up on good terms with no regrets about their half-year long relationship as lovers and, well, refusing other people for a previous relationship that would only risk to become idealized with the passing of time, was just immature. 

“Oh!” 

He had replaced his tongue with an oiled finger, and she knew that he was preparing her for what she truly needed now thanks to Frostfyre being in heat and causing trouble for Gael. 

“Cahal… please …before you enter me…I don't want the risk of another pregnancy…” 

She was not sure how she managed to reach out, but inside one carefully locked small wooden box under her bed, there was a small collection of cleaned and washed animal intestines, and he did not need to ask what they were for, as he took one and rolled it onto his erect penis, taking one small cotton string from the box to tie it at the base and keep it in place. 

“I would be selfish to not respect your wishes about avoiding a pregnancy, and we did use them back when we had our first relationship as well. Just because that dragon of yours is mating to have offspring, does not mean that you want the same.” 

 Cahal's voice was not quite unrecognizable, thick and throaty and heated, sexual and hungry.  

“Y-yes…” 

The feeling as he entered her, his hot breath against her skin, was kicking up memories to the front of her mind. Of how she had been so firm of losing her virginity to someone who would not see her as just an unusual conquest in bedding, the unspoken fear that any boyfriend would later brag about bedding a royal princess if they ever was to learn about who her true birth parents were. And how Cahal had proved himself a contrast to Daemon as soon as he realized that she belonged to the Sisterhood, because her one year younger nephew was basically a breathing, walking symbol for some of her worst fears about men. 

“You are gorgeous, Gael,” Cahal breathed, his eyes focusing on her face as he used his own physical strength to hold her hips momentarily as he turned them around and switch positions with ease, ending with her on top without even breaking the steady rhythm of his thrusts into her, “and I do not mean it in physical looks. That inbred family of yours have no idea what sort of sacred treasure they threw away, when your powers over cold and winter were revealed already in the cradle.” 

Among the Free Folk, sharing bed with a witch was seen as an honor that could not be given to just anyone. It was a belief that you had to prove yourself worthy of her choice, by treating her with all the respect and privilege that came with the magical powers she had been born with. Even more so was to become a father figure of her children, even if they had not been sired by himself, just as what Gael had asked Cahal years ago when Safiya had been small and if there was not some obvious differences in their appearances despite both being pale-skinned and having blonde hair, it was easily to mistake Aemma as the daughter of Cahal. 

Comparing Cahal and Jochi to each other was not fair to either of them. Gael loved both the men, but in a separate manner. Cahal was symbolizing the respect the Free Folk held for the Sisterhood, while Jochi symbolized her inner desire for a life away from the Targaryen. It was the same with Sarkan and Rahima, Sarkan being a woman that would never fit into the ideal of a passive wife among the Westerosi nobles, and Rahima openly admitting that she sometimes could be a little more violent than needed. 

On the other side of the closed and locked door, her ear pressed against the wood, Rahima smirked for herself when she heard the sounds of two different climaxes not long after each other, followed by the poor bed frame being dangerously close to breaking. It had taken some abuse over the last days between her and Gael because of how hungry Gael had been for sex as a side effect of Frostfyre having her mating season, and clearly this was becoming the final snap for the wood. 

“If she is in this mood, maybe a nice threesome will be perfect for her.”

Grabbing one of her hairpins from an inside pocket of her robe, that was normally used to keep her wild hair firmly set in a more controlled hairstyle during formal events and when she wanted to look really nice, Rahima unlocked the door and sneaked inside before the couple in the bed could protest. 

No one of the Umber members themselves or the servants at Last Hearth dared to openly mention or question about the sounds of a bed suddenly breaking not long after.

~X~X~X~X~X~X  

Roughly the same time far south, at the Stepstones: 

Another day of Daemon being in a bad mood because there was literally no successes for their side of the fighting, and not even Mysaria or some of the younger, prettier camp whores seemed to help. 

“Get out! I said, get out!” 

Not even the Maester was spared from the anger of the Prince, as he locked himself inside the master bedroom of the otherwise not too grand-looking “mansion” of stone among the tents for the soldiers.  

“Well, doctor,” Mysaria addressed the Maester with the closest title she had grown up with at Lys, helping him to pick up a few medicinal toys and such from the floor, “is it as I worried about? The real reason why deflowering fresh girls no longer works for him in bed?” 

The rather aged Maester thought for a moment, then realized that it was no use of keeping this a secret. 

“Afraid so. The Prince is…. infertile as a result of his many visits to ladies of the night since his youth. You should know, my lady, the sort of…often unplanned souvenirs of such visits that they then pass on to their legal wives or mistresses. And yes, his…problems of getting his manhood up and strong is caused by it as well.”

Yes. Mysaria had not spent her childhood and youth in Lys, working as a dancer in the brothel where Daemon first had met her, without snapping up some knowledge of the risks that both customers and work exposed themselves to when they did not keep to a single partner, or even using some form of protection. She had suspected what the real problem of Daemon getting more and more reckless, truly was. Too many men thought of themselves as invulnerable, but they rarely bothered to think of other consequences than the risk of siring bastards on women and girls working in the pleasure hoses or other places where one could find such workers. 

Really, him being infertile as a result of having caught some STDs in his youth because of his visits to the finer pleasure houses in the Street of Silk, would explain why she had never fallen pregnant by him despite being his paramour for well over a decade now. And why there had never been any sex workers coming forwards and claiming that a very Targaryen-looking child was the bastard child of Daemon, sired on a visit about a year earlier or so. 

But the other problem of his, that he nowadays had trouble staying erect even with a fresh virgin to deflower, was alarming. It was a huge blow to Daemon and his pride of following the ideal of masculinity here in Westeros, by being a skilled warrior and very much a womanizer. 

“And I fear that he will either find a scapegoat, or do something in desperation to prove a lie to himself that this is not something that will last for a longer time…”

In fact, Mysaria was already imaging two people who could become scapegoats for Daemon to blame: 

His legal wife Rhea Royce in the Vale of Arryn, and his aunt Gael up in the North. Rhea because he wanted to end his unwanted marriage to her and his firm belief that a new, younger wife would give him the legal children that Rhea had refused him for eighteen years of marriage. And Gael was one of the few women who had never fallen for his charms, and openly acted like Daemon was not worth any attention from her sans poking holes in his ego and calling him out on whatever actions that she disliked from him.

Chapter Text

Just like every other human, Gael would often dream during the night as she slept. But tonight, the phantoms of her past were haunting her dreams as she twisted around under the bearskin serving as a warm blanket during times when she was sleeping outdoors.   

A rather awkward landing in the inner courtyard of the Eyrie for Frostfyre, given her unfamiliarity with landing in human dwellings. Gael herself narrowly avoided slipping off the saddle, because she was not yet fully accustomed to being a dragon rider. It was three years since Gael and Frostfyre had bonded as witch and spirit animal, but since the female Ice Dragon was a feral breast with next to no human contact prior to this bond, expecting Gael to be able to ride her from the start had been impossible.

“Gael!” 

Seeing her, Lord Rodrik Arryn rushed towards the white dragon, pulling Aemma with him. His youngest child was already dressed warmly for the improvised escape with her aunt to the North, a good habit given how far up in the air that the Eyrie was. 

“Hurry! Hurry and get away from the Vale as fast you both can! The Queen will soon come here to bring Aemma with her to the capital!” The fearful Lord Arryn pleaded, helping his eleven-year-old daughter to get up behind Gael,”My last promise to Daella on her deathbed was that our daughter would NEVER marry into the royal family because the King and Queen insisted on that madness of marrying within the family! Anyone who breeds animals knows that breeding close relatives will result in deformed and sickly offspring!”

“I do not want to marry Viserys or anyone else! I do not want it, papa! I am scared that the King and Queen will never let me become my own person, just like the King disrespected Mama for her being terrified of dragons as well as not being the most clever of his daughters in the school lessons and the Queen treating her as a frail baby because of her allergies!” Aemma pleaded, showing just how terrified she was for the future that she risked to be forced into it.

Rodric drew a sharp breath at the reminder of Daella and how she had only been given a chance to show her true personality after their marriage after setting down as the new Lady Arryn. Shy, yes, and suffering from a learning disorder that King Jaehaerys had no patience with as she struggled to learn basic reading and writing. That detail about her being scared of bees? She had nearly died from an allergic reaction after getting stung once as a young child, and she was allergic to cats as well, leading to Queen Alysanne treating her fourth daughter as if she was frailer than she actually was. And the reason why Daella had insisted on both consuming the marriage and becoming pregnant one and half year later to avoid the marriage getting annulled by the High Septon after some heavy bribes from her father? The fear of being forced back into her previous life at the royal court, the princess who was only a disappointment to her father and could only escape her overbearing mother by either marriage or joining the Faith.    

“Aemma, my dear falcon, I do not want to see you stand as a bride either this young! That is why we are doing this! Gael is the only one to challenge the Queen with a dragon of her own!” Rodrik answered, touching the cheek of his daughter. 

“Exactly! And that is why we are leaving for somewhere beyond the Wall! Going to Last Hearth is a bad idea because that will be one of the first places to be searched because everyone knows that I am fostered in House Umber, but we will never be found among the unnumbered tribes and clans of the Free Folk if we lets Frostfyre fly back to the White Waste once we arrive to one of the clans I am familiar with though their members in the Northern Coven!” Gael agreed from the front of the saddle. 

“Go!”

Hearing the order from Lord Arryn, the female dragon roared as she raised her wings and took flight once again. 

Only for the respective roars of two dragons being heard coming closer. 

Thankfully, Gael awoke before the nightmare turned worse. The memory of her failure to save the eleven-year-old Aemma that horrible day was bad enough, and the aftermath of it all. 

“It must be the phantom pains that are aching up again….” 

Her left shoulder and arm were aching in the faint scars that remained as a physical memory, same with the scar in her right side. During the dragon chase across the whole Vale back and forth in a attempt to shake off Silverwing and Vermithor, Gael had crafted a snow storm high in the air, aiming to give Frostfyre a chance to show Ice Dragons blended in so well in such weather that the two Targaryen dragons ridden by her birth parents would be caught unaware. 

And it had worked at first. Sure, Silverwing had been named for her scales being that color and could almost blend in as well, but Frostfyre was bigger and far more used to fighting other dragons. Only for Jaehaerys to suddenly order Vermithor to aim his dragonfire straight at the two girls. Gael had managed to shield them by focusing the storm around them, followed by Silverwing literally slamming Frostfyre into the mountain top as Vermithor attempted to tear off the left one of her wings with his teeth. Because of the angle and speed as Frostfyre had hit the mountain, Gael had narrowly managed to avoid Aemma suffering similar injuries as herself , breaking her dominant left arm and shoulder at the impact as she had acted on instinct and tried to protect her head, ending up with a concussion of the brain.

“Ugh….!” 

Even now in adulthood so many years afterwards, Gael shuddered in memory of how Alysanne had thrown her own belt about the throat of her 13-year-old self to jerk her away from Aemma, followed by Jaehaerys drawing Blackfyre, one of the two Valyrian swords owned by House Targaryen, and showing no mercy to his youngest daughter as he cut her unprotected side under the horrified screams of Aemma as Alysanne forcefully pulled over her granddaughter over to her own saddle, with the servery injured Gael falling out of sight under the clouds, her last memory before fainting being of Alysanne and Jaehaerys not listening to their granddaughter screaming that she did not want to marry Viserys and screaming that she would never forgive them for what they had just done with Gael. 

“I WILL NOT MARRY VISERYS!! I REFUSE! I REFUSE!! I WILL NEVER BE THE MOTHER TO HIS CHILDREN!! I REFUSE! I REFUSE!! I WILL NEVER SAY THE MARRIAGE VOWS!! I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU FOR HARMING GAEL!! MAY BOTH THE SEVEN AND THE OLD GODS CURSE YOU TWO FOR HARMING A MEMBER OF THE SISTERHOOD!! ”  

The same furious screaming from Aemma that still haunted her nightmares to this day.   

“They were cursed in various ways already before that day, yes, dear niece…” Gael muttered in a bitter tone as she opened her water skin to drink some water and then laid herself back next to Rahima and her two daughters, who thankfully was sleeping peacefully. 

That day had been her closest fight with the Stranger so far in her life, almost bleeding out from the injuries and also drowning after landing in a small mountain lake. Only Frostfyre had ensured her survival after chasing away Silverwing and Vermithor, carrying her young rider inside her own mouth like she was a hatchling in need of a safer nest and literally dumping Gael at Runestone because that was the nearest human settlement. 

Even with the help of the ancient Healer witch born in House Royce who had still been alive, it had taken Gael several months to recover from her injuries. Months where Aemma had been forcefully married to Viserys by their grandparents, with Rodrik banned from attending because the King feared that the Lord Arryn or his four older children would try to prevent the wedding ceremony from happening.  

“Heh…Daemon, you will find out what it means about family members suffering for something another family member did in the past…”

Tomorrow was going to be a great day for her to take out some old frustration about her birth family. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

In the wee hours just before dawn, it all seemed to become another day of fighting, especially as there was a small fleet of enemy ships coming closer. 

“Not another sea battle to defend whatever land mass we have left on this island…” 

“Are the Prince going to burn those ships with his dragon and claim it as his own personal victory again in the hope of looking more impressive in the next letter to the King to demand more soldiers or money?” 

Many of the now very reduced number of soldiers under the command of Daemon were not exactly looking forward to this morning. So far, only landless adventurers and sellswords remained, for the common farmers and other landless workers found across Westeros, no longer was charmed by whatever promises of glory and what else Daemon tried to attract more soldiers with, for now it was well-known that he did not have a great income of his own and indirectly was dependant on Corlys for food and other deliveries by ship. Even in the Velaryon fleet, the sailors were whispering among each other to simply dump both Daemon and Corlys to deal with this themselves.

“Hey…are those fishing boats?”

In fact, it was lady Hildegard Baratheon standing in the front of the first fishing boat that was coming closer, carefully moving silently through the water by the oars, wearing her black hat and holding her magical staff in one hand. 

“Good morning, my good men. The Sisterhood have chosen to put an end to this senseless war over the Stepstones and make Prince Daemon realize that he have wasted almost nine years in something that was bound to be a failure long-term, but you common soldiers need to avoid getting caught in the incoming chaos that will involve the Sisterhood.” 

Since so many of the common soldiers and landworkers had the little thing called common sense as well having grown up with horror tales of what could happen if someone showed disrespect to the Sisterhood or dismissed their warnings about a very possible danger to themselves, few of them wasted any time. 

“Come on, into the boats!” 

They moved quickly, but also silently to avoid getting caught and punished for deserting. 

As for Daemon himself, the Prince was not exactly amused by Mushroom, the court jester who had banished to the Stepstones by Alicent after he had made a unacceptable joke about the North and how Hildegard had invited “Northern ignorance about noble behavior” into House Baratheon by her marriage to Harald Umber. On top of it, Mushroom had come dangerously close to openly insulting Gael in front of Viserys and the whole royal court by attempting a poor joke about whatever “she was still a old maid or having a secret child somewhere”, which had been dangerously close to crossing another thin line and Alicent had paid some servants to both drug and then remove Mushroom from the Red Keep during the night. 

“I need more money and men that can fight, not a jester…!” Daemon muttered in annoyance, sending Mushroom away by flinging an empty wine goblet at the dwarf. He was already in a bad mood from another failed round in the bed with deflowering a new, confirmed virgin girl among the camp followers. And Mysaria was not there either, he had sent her in a small ship heading to Dragonstone in the hope that Rhaenyra could be willing to hand him some more money to attract new sellswords. 

"Damn all of this! Why is everything going wrong for me lately…?” 

Falling asleep, Daemon did not exactly enter a peaceful dream-memory of his early childhood: 

He was being hugged by Viserys, as they hid to listen to what the adults were talking about. His father Baelon and grandparents Alysanne and Jaehaerys, standing in front of the tomb where the cremated ashes of Alyssa and their youngest son Aegon had been laid to rest, only half a year apart. 

“Baelon…” Alysanne started, only to be cut off by her son:   

“I will not remarry any other woman, mother! No one can ever replace Alyssa! How can anyone shine as bright as she did, in the ways she enjoyed life?”

Jaehaerys seemed to agree with their widowed son. 

“Baelon has two fine sons which Alyssa gave him, Alysanne. Do you really want to see them getting…influenced by the wrong sort of ideas a stepmother may bring? Like that it was the Seven who punished Alyssa through a slow death by the “sin” of marrying her own brother and bearing his children?” 

“NO!” Alysanne protested in horror, “if marriage between brother and sister was a sin like our enemies says, then we would never have been blessed with our wonderful children!” 

“I will say it again, mother,” Baelon said with honest grief in his voice, “no one can ever replace Alyssa for me. None of my other sisters, nor any other woman. Please, let me honor her memory until my own death by remaining faithful to her as her widower.”

It was the sound of an explosion just outside the mansion that woke Daemon from the nightmares. 

“An enemy attack? At this time in the morning?!”

Had they gotten enough close to attack with cannons from the ships? If so, where was Corlys and his fleet intended to protect the base?

“Fucking hell!”

In fact, it was not cannons from enemy ships coming closer to the shore, but rather the members of the Sisterhood flying around on their brooms and aiming with magic. They had already trapped Caraxes by binding the male dragon with vines and tree roots from the earth-magic magic, ensuring that he could either fly or breathe fire on them. 

“Ha, ha, this sort of surroundings is so perfect for us Water Witches!” Rahima laughed as she summoned up sea water to take the form of a gigantic cobra, a water form of her spirit animal back home in Hellholt, and then forced out the few remaining servants outside the building before she began to tear apart the mansion where Daemon had just been sleeping. 

“Nice how you are having fun by not restraining yourself too much for once.” 

As for Gael, she was showing how foolish it was to imagine her as dependent on Frostfyre to come off as scary. For every mating season and following months of the female Ice Dragon being busy with caring for her resulting eggs and hatchlings in the nest, Gael had used that time to train up her own strength and finer control over her powers, or just being busy by being a mother herself. 

“Safiya! This will be your true test to show your abilities as a Lava witch! Go!” 

Nodding, the fifteen-year-old went downwards to the ground, mindful to stay way out of reach for Caraxes in case the dragon managed to break free, or Daemon tried to do something.  

“Daemon! We must leave!” Corlys called over the sounds around him as his men were rushing towards the last ship in sight, realizing that if the Sisterhood was getting involved, trying to fight was asking for trouble. Behind him, Mushroom was floating in the sea water with his face down, having been drowned by Rahima in the rather violent attack on Daemon to prevent him from reaching Caraxes.

“No! I will not become a laughing stock by those women…!” the Targaryen Prince responded, pulling out Dark Sister from its scabbard and running towards Safiya who had just landed, hoping to break her focus because of her youth compared to himself and the alarm at having a sword aiming at her.

“Honestly, do you think you can scare me by that?!”

Only for Safiya to send up a fountain of lava right in front of Daemon, coming dangerously close to burning him. With how Daemon just had acted and did not seem to understand the situation, Safiya could not believe that he was her eighteen years older first-cousin. No wonder her Mother always felt embarrassed by her nephew, and would say that Daemon would be the cause of his own death one day. 

 “By the Old Gods and the Seven, Daemon! Stop acting like you are some invincible male character in stories that are protected by really strong Wishing Magic! ” Gael snapped in annoyance, trapping him inside a large block of ice so he could only move his head. 

“Everyone, away from the mountains and hills!” 

Laying her wide-spread palm on the ground, Safiya focused her magic, causing her eyes to become a warm amber under a few moments as she spiritually connected with the previous generations of Lava Witches before herself. 

“HEART OF MAGMA!! ”

Lava burst out from all the mountain tops and sides on the Stepstones, covering the morning sky in ash clouds and the sounds of the earth rearranging itself below the surface of the sea as the islands was hit by small scale earth earthquakes, revealing just how powerful Safiya was for her age. 

“By the Seven…if this is the power of a Targaryen mother and her offspring with a non-relative, then I almost get scared of what could happen in a life and death situation…!” Jeyne Arryn muttered in awe, pushing away some toxic gas with her wind powers so no one breathed in that. 

“Or how powerful the Sisterhood could have been in the days of the Conquest, if not for Harrenhal and the Doom of Valyria somehow causing the witches to be far fewer in numbers by birth than ever before! And I mean both among the nobles and commoners!” Hildegard agreed, flying around to ensure that no one got hurt by mistake. 

“Come on, everyone. Time to mark those islands as our territory.” 

Raising their respective staff above their heads, the various Senior Witches of the Covens connected their magic with everyone else in the Sisterhood. 

“To put a final end to the fighting over those islands! ” 

“The end of the pirates that always seeks out this area! ” 

“A place where everyone, no matter where they come from, has to follow the set rules or face punishment! ” 

Across all of the Stepstones, a blinding light appeared, almost as bright as the sun against a less blue sky. 

“I will not have people saying that I lost this whole war because of those women!” Daemon snarled in growing anger and humiliation as he tried to free himself from the block of ice. However, due to the blinding light from tbe united magic of the Sisterhood causing some momentary flash blindness in his eyes, Daemon instead saw a strange vision in front of himself: 

A semi-transparent young man, sixteen to seventeen years at the oldest. His clothing wore the sigil of House Royce, and his brown hair and features were so similar to Rhea's that he couldn't be anyone else but a close relative. 

“How ironic that this will be our first and last meeting in which you can see me in this world, Daemon Targaryen. Not that I feel sorry about it, or even plans to do anything to change your circumstances against great-aunt Gael. ”

“Who are you?! And what do you mean!” Daemon demanded in his most commanding voice, but the youngster only watched him with crossed arms and that sort of scornful glare that Rhea always would look at him with. 

“If you had not been so foolish as to start your conquests of women in the pleasure houses as soon you started to notice the fairer sex and causing yourself to catch that sexual disease which made you infertile without treatment, my existence would have come to fruit the year after Rhaenyra. I am the only child that you sucessfully conceived in this world, yet was lost to my mother after that you spooked her horse with Caraxes and caused her to fall badly out oif the saddle a few weeks after the wedding. In the alternative world where I truly comes from and can see you from, in this very moment…I am your legal son, Rodrik Royce, named after the father of Queen Aemma Arryn and raised by Mother herself because you were never present in my life or even wanted to admit my existence. ”

Impossible, was all Daemon could think of. He was only seeing a hallucination because of the flash blindness, his mind was playing tricks on him! Rhea was barren, everyone knew it!

“Farewell, Prince Daemon Targaryen. ”

Turning around, the hallucination mounted a bronze-scaled dragon that was clearly Vermithor, and vanished as the blinding light faded away. 

To his credit, Racallio Ryndoon, the Tyroshi captain-general who had been leading the fleet against the camp of Daemon, had enough common sense to not question what the Sisterhood had just done. By using some long distance magic, the current leaders for Tyrosh, Lys and Myr and Prince Qoren Martell also could take part in the, admittedly, unplanned discussion. 

“Those tolls set by you ladies are reasonable in cost, and being the same for every ship that passes back and forth,” the Archon of Tyrosh admitted in a slow voice, looking at the magisters of Lys and Myr to see how they may react. 

“No more capturing and enslavement of people who live near the Stepstones, OR any other coast of Westeros, ” Mistress Joanna Swann said sharply, recalling how close she had came to be enslaved by Lysense captains in 96 A.C at the age of fifteen, in their capture of women, girls and comely boys to turn into slaves for their pillow houses. Despite her shadow magic often being seen as creepy and unnatural, it had proved very useful against the sailors who had overheard her being addressed in a manner that revealed her to be of a higher social status and thus having wealthy relatives that could pay a ransom for Joanna if she was successfully kidnapped. Rumors said that Joanna had never forgiven her stingy uncle for his slip of tongue in which he had indirectly confessed that he would never pay a ransom for her if she was kidnapped, witch or not. 

“You are refusing us new…” 

The Lynese magister who had spoken up, found himself with no less than five thin daggers made out of dark chaos magic very close to his fingers, a clear warning that if he was to finish saying what he intended, he would lose all fingers on his dominant hand.

“Fail to follow those terms, and it will be Lys on a whole that will suffer. ”

Compared to the different magisters who tried in vain to change some of the details, Qoren had already signed the various peace agreements without question after looking it over thoughtfully, and enjoyed how there was no clear winner in this final war over the Stepstones that would be able to brag about the victory in the future. Sometimes equivalent terms for everyone involved was the best solution. 

“Thank you for making this a permanent end to the fighting about those islands, ladies. I hope that King Viserys will not be too difficult to be made to sign this as well.” 

Once everyone had finally signed the peace agreements, and got a magical copy to keep as a reminder if there was any attempt to restart the fighting over the Stepstones, there was another thing to deal with. 

“Daemon. This is the last crossed line for you and we will no longer accept any more stupidity from you to justify your own desire for glory and coming off as the living example of a manly man here in Westeros. From here on, you are banished from the North and beyond the Wall, Dorne, the Vale, the Stormlands, the Riverlands, the Westerlands, the Reach and the Crownlands. ” 

By adding that magical seal on him that would block him and Caraxes from entering anywhere in Westeros, he would never be welcomed back to his homeland again. 

“You…!” 

But the seal was already active, and prevented him from coming anywhere close to the nearest witches. 

“Enjoy your remaining years of life living in exile, nephew, and know that you have only yourself to blame for this.” 

Screaming foul words at them, there was nothing else Daemon could do than mount Caraxes and fly towards Essos to find a place to live in exile. 

“Did we add that extra seal on him to prevent a scenario where he may try to ruin the intended wedding for Miss Laena Velaryon?” 

“Oh, he will not be able to go anywhere near Braavos or any other place where she will be in the future. Even with him actually being infertile from STDs which he caught in his youth and therefore unable to father children, he can still be a danger to women and men in different ways.” 

It was the Maester who had revealed this secret little detail about Daemon o the Sisterhood, not out of greed for extra money, but out of personal dislike towards the Targaryen Prince for having deflowered a few close relatives and thus ruined their hopes for a good marriage match despite neither of the young women having fallen pregnant. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X  

At Storm's End, the news about the end of the war and the exile of Daemon, was much welcomed. 

“Finally! No more trouble from that self-centered Prince!” Lord Boremund cheered, tossing his three-year-old toddler granddaughter Ingeborg up in the air and making her laugh because it was not the first time he did so. 

“I agree, Daemon was asking for a wide-spread banishment from Westeros with his actions,” Harald said, holding one-year-old Adrian in his arms as Gorm hurried over to hug Hildegard in joy over his mother returning home. 

Similar talk happened in the Vale, as Jeyne returned to her home so Rhea would know that she would not have to fear Daemon trying to use her as a scapegoat for what he had personally caused. 

“Our magic keeps you protected from possible murder that he may attempt to pay for, in order to finally free himself from this estranged marriage with you as his unwanted wife, Rhea.”   

The Lady of Runestone signed deeply. She knew that this would be a golden moment to finally be free from Daemon, especially with the information that he had caused himself to become infertile thanks to being careless in the brothel visits of his youth, because no matter which wife he may try to have as his second wife, or said lady coming from a well-known fertile family, he would never pose a threat in the form of having his own children. 

“I will ask High Septon Torgrim for a divorce from Daemon. Surely he can agree that infertility is a good ground for ending a fruitless marriage that has lasted for nearly eighteen years.” 

Rhea herself would not be blamed as the infertile one, she had written proof of her monthly visitors and she had a strong feeling that Daemon had managed to knock her up during the first month of their marriage, but later ended in a early misscarriage after that Caraxes had spooked her horse into rearing and causing her to fall out of the saddle to land badly on the ground, because her monthly visitor had been absent for about five weeks and the bleeding after the fall had been heavier than her usual period. 

“You are not even 34 years old, Rhea! Surely there is still a chance for finding a much better husband and possibly having one child…?” 

Jeyne tried to be tactful, knowing that an insensitive comment could ruin quite a few things in this talk. 

“Nope,” Rhea said firmly, “I have had enough of marriage thanks to Daemon being the husband and not even his rank of being royalty helped things out. Besides, no matter how fond I am of my own nephews and nieces from my dear twin sister Alexandra, I am one of those women who feels no desire for children either, I have never wanted children from a young age. I only married Daemon because Father wanted to secure my future as his Heiress before his death and prevent me from being chased around by suitors who only saw what I was bound to inherit as the oldest daughter, and Queen Alysanne wanted her grandson to marry a heiress because he is a second son with no inheritage of his own.” 

With this, Jeyne returned home to the Eyrie, where she was welcomed home by a much enjoyable sight: 

Camil sleeping in their marriage bed, taking a nap with their infant son Ronald Arryn, who was the undoubted heir to both House Arryn and the Vale by being born in a legal marriage. 

“I am glad that you managed to give me a son already in my first pregnancy, Camil, despite needing some outside help from the water witches when we were not sure of us making the right act to conceive. Because I can imagine Rhaenyra hoping to use our kinship in gaining a very important ally for herself, by offering her firstborn son to a daughter of mine.”

Kissing her husband lightly on the cheek to not take him up, Jeyne changed into a comfortable everyday dress and took the chance to start making a drawing of her little family as a memory for the future. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X  

Due to his own conflicted emotions about how the War for the Stepstones had ended, Corlys first returned to Driftmark, both to tell his family about what had happened and to gather some more time to figure out how to explain it all to King Viserys as well, because it had been the Velaryon fleet that had aided Daemon. 

“Where is my wife and children?” the Sea Snake asked in confusion when neither Rhaenys or Laena could be found, same for Addam and Alyn. Vhagar and Meleyes were nowhere to be seen as well, and Seasmoke was most likely at Dragonstone because that was where Laenor lived as the consort of Rhaenyra. 

“The Sealord of Braavos sent a letter with a ultimatum, uncle: Either Laena is to come to Braavos and marry his son before midsummer, or he will break the betrothal that have lasted for nearly ten years,” his nephew Vaemond Velaryon answered, even holding up the letter in question for Corlys to read with his own eyes. 

“What?!” 

Another letter, written in the hand of Rhaenys, explained that she, Jocelyn, the twins, Laenor and Laena had chosen to go to Braavos on their dragons and prove that House Velaryon would keep their half of that betrothal, not the least because Laena was already 22 years old and unkind whispers starting to spread that Corlys intended to keep his sole daughter unwed to become a old maid despite her fine lineage from both parents. 

In Braavos, Laena was getting ready for her wedding. Proving himself a good big brother despite the age difference, Laenor kept Addam and Alyn busy by playing with them, offering soft toys that was suitable for such young children.

“I am a little sad that Vhagar will have to return with you to Driftmark, mother, but I can understand the reason behind the refusal to have her here. She is a dragon, a living memory of history.”

Unlike the other Free Cities, Braavos was never part of the Valyrian Freehold. The youngest of these cities, Braavos was founded by escaped slaves, fleeing the grasp of the Freehold and its dragonriders, and this explained why Laena would be unable to keep Vhagar with her for as long as she lived in the city.

“I will come and visit as often as I can, sweetheart,” Rhaenys promised as she brushed the hair of her daughter to later set up in an elegant updo for the ceremony.  

“You may only remain as the daughter-in-law of the Sealord until his dying breath because it is an office served for life and not inherited by a son or other relatives, but no one can deny the fame of Corlys and his wealth.” 

Neither Rhaenys or Jocelyn felt any guilt about Corlys missing the wedding of his daughter. He had chosen to focus on the Stepstones and helping Daemon, now he had to face what he had ignored. 

“That reminds me, brother: before we went here to Braavos, Rhaenyra said that you are to become a father again! Jacaerys will be a big brother around his first birthday!” 

Laenor managed to avoid act oddly at the reveal, thanks to Alyn falling over on his back and accidentally tossing his soft toy in the face of his older brother. 

“Rhaenyra wanted the two “Heir and spare” children to be born as soon as she could manage, to avoid the pressure of a second child…”  

That said, he did secretly hope that this second child would look more like Rhaenyra to avoid possible problems in the future. Harwin was a great man and both the Princess of Dragonstone and Laenor was fond of the heir to Harrenhal for different reasons, but Laenor was not blind to that they could not always claim the Baratheon blood from his maternal grandmother Jocelyn or the Arryn blood from Rodrik, the father of Queen Aemma, to explain the dark hair on each one of his “legal” children.

Chapter Text

As much as the Sisterhood was her enemies, both back when she was alive and now as a ghost seeking revenge, Svetlana had to agree with them when it came to Prince Daemon Targaryen. 

“Even Maegor the Cruel was a more useful puppet in my hands, and that was because he could actually prove why he became so feared! Yes, I was able to ensnare him thanks to that little detail of Visenya actually being barren and using dark magic to conceive Maegor, but she at least made sure that her little hellish bull to son had the skills of a warrior that would have made him a unmatched King of the Iron Islands, if he had been born in my culture. ”

No, Daemon was a type of man she had seen far too often even when still alive, back home in her native Iron Islands. A cruel and impulsive man, Daemon Targaryen tended to do whatever he liked with no regard for the consequences. And she was sure that his anger over failing to be the winner of the Stepstones and resentment over being exiled from pretty much all of Westeros sans the now ruined and abandoned Iron Islands, would cause Daemon to make another fatal mistake. 

“Hm. Wonder if he is not part of a curse laid upon House Targaryen, by the last members of the Iron Island Coven… ”

Honestly, a curse intended to make their descendants lacking common sense, the more inbred they were by those incest marriages, would serve Jaehaerys and Alysanne Targaryen right, for teaming up against the Ironborn with the Sisterhood. Sure, the witches would have been able to defend themselves with their own magic, but the two dragonriders who were siblings yet married to each other and having children together by following ill-considered customs from an almost extinct empire… 

Anyway, Svetlana knew that using Daemon as her puppet was just a waste of time. Even as a ghost, she could actually smell the scent of death starting to cling around him, as a sign that he was unlikely to live to old age.  

“What confuses me is the faint glow of wishing magic around him and yet he also carries the smell of Harrenhal. Were his parents stupid enough to conceive this manchild there of all places, while both his mother and father were expressing a shared desire for him to be the most manly man in all Westeros, without realizing how that sort of wish can actually backfire?! ” 

If that level of stupidity from Baelon and Alyssa Targaryen was not a secret revenge from the last witches in the Iron Islands Coven, then Svetlana had no other idea to explain how a married couple would be so stupid as to beget a child right where Harren and herself had their powerbase! 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

Since she was still a witch apprentice and would not finish her training until another six years or so, Aemma tried to not feel too disappointed that she didn't get to come along to the Stepstones. After all, with that creepy Daemon Targaryen and his dragon there, her mother had a good point that things could turn very ugly if the Prince tried to attack the apprentices and force the older witches to protect them. 

“Grandmother Tyra, uncle Cahal said something odd earlier when he mentioned that Frostfyre actually is weird for a spirit animal.”

Stopping in branding the hair of the girl, Lady Umber merely said: 

“About your mother using her as a mount when not flying on her broom for longer distances?”

“Yes. Not even the witches who have horses as their spirit animals, tend to tame and ride them.” 

Of course this would come up at some point, Tyra realized. And, so she tried to explain with what she knew: 

“As I am not a witch myself, I do not know all the details of witches and their spirit animals. However, it is said to be a sign of a daughter being a witch if an animal keeps coming back and is spotted around a home over several years, without causing trouble in some form, and may even allow the female child to touch it once to confirm their spiritual bond that will last for as long as the witch lives. In fact, most witches allow their spirit animals to live as their species will generally do, and never use them apart from keeping an eye on their home areas while being in a different place.”

“But can any witch be a skinchanger with their spirit animal?” 

Today her adoptive granddaughter was really having questions. A skinchanger was a person with the ability to enter the mind of an animal and control its actions.

“More common here in the Northern Coven than further south, sweetling, because the witches born among the Free Folk such as yourself are often taking the role of shamans and other spiritual leaders, and yet skinchanging can be dangerous, because even with a strong bond of trust between the witch and the spirit animal, the witch can end up displaying more animal behavior in her human self if she feels tempered to enter the mind of her spirit animal too often. There are even horror stories of careless use of such magic, where witches can cause themselves to become trapped in the mind of their animals, never escaping because they neglected to use common sense.”

Tyra could recall what had happened the first time Gael had tried to enter the mind of Frostfyre, at the age of twelve, two years after first finding out that she would be the first known witch in history bonded to an Ice dragon, and spent the last two years trying to make Frostfyre enough familiar with humans so Gael would not have to worry about someone getting burned without warning. The young Ice witch had been overwhelmed by the sheer force of the much older female dragon, collapsing mere moments after trying, and later described the experience as hearing an unwavering voice inside her own head warning against trying to believe that Gael herself was the stronger half, and the threat of being eaten alive if she ever tried to treat the Frostfyre like the dragons that House Targaryen had. 

“....so the fear of being trapped inside their minds during a bad situation that can be hard to fix, is why almost no spirit animals are found among the Sisterhood when they are traveling? As well, sometimes, traveling by broom simply is the faster way and there can be difficulties if a spirit animal ends up in a landscape where it has a harder time surviving for a longer time, or just sticking out like a sore thumb?”

Hiding a sigh, Tyra hoped that Gael would come back soon and take over this talk. 

Lucky for Aemma not long after, Cahal could offer some suggestions in her quest for more knowledge. While he was not blood related to any witch among the Free Folk, there were still a few details shared among the normal humans in the clans and tribes. 

“It is true that most spirit animals are left alone while the witches go on with their own lives. And yes, it is often so because the coven members travel a lot. Some elders also believe having a spirit animal that is connected to where one is born in Westeros, will ensure that the witch will never forget her roots.” 

“But Mother was born in the Crownlands, yet raised in the North! Should not that cause some…issues with a spirit animal?” Aemma asked, again showing how Gael was raising both her daughters to think of the big image in everyday life and not limit themselves to the most obvious explanation. Pausing in sharpening his sword with a borrowed whetstone, Cahal had to think for a moment. 

“This is only my guess, but perhaps the Old Gods and the Seven together wanted your Mother to be able to match the dragon-riding Targaryen dynasty, in case there ever is a new threat towards the Sisterhood with a Targaryen member involved as an enemy? Yes, a younger dragon may have bonded with Gael easier, but Frostfyre is one of the largest adult Ice dragons currently known and there are even legends that this native breed of dragons in the North can even reach up to three hundred years if they manages to avoid dying in fights or other causes of death much earlier.” 

Thinking about that sort of scenario, Aemma could see why the Gods had wanted her mother to bond with Frostfyre, of all the spirit animals she could have had otherwise. House Targaryen was used to nothing matching their dragons in battle, as proved by the Conquest when the Sisterhood had already been weakened by the horrors of Harrenhal and the extremely lessened number of births that proved to be future witches, both among the commoners and the upper classes. 

But fighting against an Ice dragon, known to be cunning by using the surroundings to ensure a victory in a fight and especially dangerous if it was a female with a nest of unhatched eggs or hatchlings to protect against anyone who could pose a danger to said offspring, was likely a threat that the Targaryen family had never faced. And Gael, by crafting her staff with shells to mimic the sound of a distressed Ice dragon hatchling in need of its mother, had shown the same realization whatever she used the staff in that manner to protect herself.  

“Do you think that Mother having struggles in controlling Frostfyre, is because of the age difference between them and that Frostfyre has been a wild animal with next to no human contact over her life before it was time for Mother to start searching for her spirit animal?”

No wonder Lady Umber had warned about Aemma being unusually inquisitive today, because the girl was normally not that much for talking. Well, Cahal knew that if he did not answer, she would likely run off to find someone else to question, and heaven knew what sort of weird answers from clueless adults that may come out of that!

“Well, try to see it from her view: life is fine, the hatchlings are safe, maybe you just have been in a successful hunt for some food, and suddenly there is a much smaller lifeform poking around in your mind. Maybe Frostfyre sometimes acts as she does, to remind Gael about who is the actual boss between them and that as an Ice dragon, she can survive much colder temperatures than a human?” 

Thankfully, before he was attacked by a new question that he was unlikely to know the right answer to, they now heard a servant call to Lord and Lady Umber that Gael and Safiya had just come back home. Even Rahima had come along to Last Hearth, bringing Aziz with her. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X  

Thanks to a quick warning from her foster mother, Gael was not surprised when Aemma showed up and, after hugging her mother and sister as a way to welcoming them back home, started to question her about the spirit animals of witches, since she was around the age when they may start bonding with such an animal if they had not already been found by it.

“In a way, our spirit animals can also be a reflection of our own selves. Remember what is often said about various, normal animals here in the North?” 

Aemma tried to repeat what she had learned before:

“Cats and weasels are protecting the harvests by hunting mice and rats, therefore being a very effective pest control for farmers. Female bears are well known for being protective mothers. Elks are a symbol of the northern wilderness. Direwolves and normal wolves are seen as a sign of strong family bonds. Owls are silent watchers because they have wide eyes and can see in darkness. Eagles and similar hunting birds are symbols for freedom. Dogs are loyal. Deer present grace, speed and ability. Boars present danger and ferocious strength. Horses are a symbol for vast travels. While cattle are less common as spirit animals because they are often viewed as farm animals and rarely found north of the Wall outside the known villages, cows symbolize fertility, motherhood and serenity, and a huge herd of cows symbolizes wealth because of the amount of animals. It is similar to goats, though they are viewed as sure-footed. Squirrels are seen as hard workers for trying to ensure that they gather enough nuts and seeds to survive throughout winter. Hares are known for their speed, and foxes as being cunning. Ravens are known as intelligent birds, but they are also connected to death by being a carrion bird. Snakes are viewed as transformation and long life, due to them shedding their skin though molting.”  

Gael stroked her thumb over the forehead on her adoptive daughter, a way of showing that Aemma had been a good student when learning about nature. After all, with Aemma being blind from birth, smiling in pride at her answer would not be noticed. 

“There is some truth about the spirit animals of witches being a reflection of ourselves. Yes, not everyone may like which animal in question, wanting it to be cuter or different altogether, but in the end, it shows what sort of character we really are. As unpredictable as she is at times around humans, Frostfyre is still preferable over Gael bonding with one of the Targaryen dragons,” Rahima added, recalling some things she had witnessed over the nearly eleven years that she and Gael had been a couple. 

From the way Aemma seemed to think about all this, her questions about the spirit animals had been answered for now.

“I just hope that it will not cause trouble for Mother…”

Ah, fair point. Gael herself knew how troublesome Frostfyre could be at times, and that was why she tried to not be too dependent on the female dragon when not using her magic. 

As the witches also shared the news of Daemon being banished from literally all of Westeros unless he wanted to spend the rest of his life as a penniless “Lord” over the Iron Islands and whatever few criminals that lived there as punishment for horrible crimes instead of being executed, the whole household of Last Hearth naturally had to celebrate. 

“Recalling those silly misunderstandings in the south about the Wall and the Night's Watch being less suitable for knights than for the dregs of Westeros? Hah, that suits the Iron Islands better those days! With the Sisterhood teaming up with Jaehaerys and Alysanne to wipe out both the Ironborn and their culture nearly 70 years ago, the islands themselves are abandoned for any other use than as an isolated prison out in the sea, far away from the mainland!” 

Lots of laughter on that reminder, because many knew that Daemon would be literally bored to death if he ever got that fate. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X  

Later that evening, she had a chance for a different sort of talk with Rahima and Cahal, as they watched the sun setting. 

“Am I wrong for not stepping in and warning Rhaenyra about that if she is not careful with her behavior or sharpening up about her worse habits, there is a strong likelihood that the Sisterhood may actually replace her as the heir to the Iron Throne with either her own children, or her half-siblings, depending on who that may show better sense of responsibility and understanding that their own actions affect others on a wider scale?” 

“Nah,” Rahima said in a dismissing voice as Cahal offered both of them more water in a set of wooden cups, “There is a very good reason for the saying “all actions and words have their consequences ” existing in the first place, and some people honestly needs to learn this the hard way. Especially if they are being sheltered from the consequences by others, or people not reacting in the most likely manner, like how Viserys does with her.” 

“If anything, recall the tale of how your mother thought herself brilliant in trying to bring southern civilization to the Free Folk, little over sixty years ago when making that royal tour to Winterfell. The Lord Stark of that time was named Alaric, right?” Cahal wondered, making Gael frown in dislike at the mention of her birth mother.

Back in 58 A.C, with the royal progress happening mere months after the end of the Ironborn culture and its people, Queen Alysanne Targaryen thought that she was clever by suggesting to the Free Folk to stop their nomadic lifestyle and start building cities, even tried to arrange marriages between the various chiefs' daughters and knights down in the south to “teach proper civilization” to them. But as had been proved, the Free Folk had not been amused by being called uncivilized by a foreign Queen from the south, and few of the chiefs had accepted Alysanne trying to bring their daughters with her back to the Red Keep, officially to teach them southern manners and then marrying them to knights or wealthy merchants because no southern nobles were eager at the idea of getting a daughter-in-law from a place that was even further north of the Wall, no matter how pretty, healthy, clever or skilled the girl was in the traditional arts of survival beyond the Wall. 

It had ended in disaster, to use a nice word, with a lot of spears and arrows involved, because the Free Folk did not like how the Targaryen queen had looked down on their traditions and customs, a legacy from the First Men. Alysanne had needed to escape on Silverwing back over the Wall before risking to get injured, and Alaric Stark had sternly warned both her and Jaehaerys from trying any form of revenge “else they may come to regret it, and risk leaving their little sons all the way down in the South orphaned ” as he had spoken bluntly to the King and Queen, and they had no other choice but to forget the idea of using their dragons to scare the Free Folk into fear of the last dragon riding family from Old Valyria. 

“I am glad that her idea was so forcefully rejected, because otherwise the last true links to the First Men and their culture would have been lost. Besides, where did she imagine we would build any city? How much work would be needed? That we would somehow accept having a ruler deep down in the distant south that we may never see?” Cahal muttered to himself, agreeing with his older relatives that Alysanne had just been imagining some grand glory-for-herself project that was impossible to do in reality. 

“And then there are some very unlikely-to-be true whispers that Alyssa was the secret bastard child between her and Alaric Stark, based on how different her looks was from the rest of the other siblings, because Alyssa actually was born two years after that royal progress. Hah, as if there is not a better candidate for that role in Ser Lucamore Strong in the Kingsguard, with the reveal that not only did he wed once in secret despite his oaths, but with three different women and siring no less than sixteen children between them before he was found out! Looking at how upset she is mentioned to have been upon this reveal, the idea of Alyssa being a secret bastard could hold a lot of meanings…” Gael said, recalling what she had read about that scene between her parents and the Kingsguard member. 

Especially with the fact that Alarra Massery, the maternal grandmother of both Jaehaerys and Alysanne, was known as a great beauty but not of Valyrian lineage. Combined with the mentions of Lucamore Strong described as an amiable, strapping, broad-shouldered, blond bull in his youth, the possibility of Alyssa herself lacking the Valyrian appearance and the similar behavior of Daemon now one generation later, as Lucamore had been gelded and sent to spend the rest of his life in exile on the abandoned Iron Islands for his crime, just two years before Alyssa and Baelon had wed… 

Personally, Gael did not really care if Alyssa had been sired by a different man than the brother-husband Alysanne was wed to, but it would have explained a few things about the treatment of her compared to the younger sisters: Why Alyssa had been allowed to act more like a boy and duel with wooden swords as if she was being raised to become a new Visenya, when her sisters had been expected to act more ladylike and accept their arranged marriages without protests, and also possibly why Jaehaerys had insisted on making Alysanne keep bearing children until the birth of Gael herself. As a punishment for cheating on him and perhaps jealousy over that Alysanne was no longer blindly in love with her own brother as back when they were married, but had started to realize that other men existed. 

“Fucking hypocrite…!” 

And people here in Westeros viewed Saera as the “whore daughter” by having three natural sons that had pressed their claims to the Iron Throne at the Great Council about fourteen years ago, and joyfully had expanded her family with three natural daughters in the following years afterwards? As if “Good Queen” Alysanne Targaryen herself was some living saint and tried to make herself look better by stealing credits for banning the First Night in the North, when the Sisterhood had done it several thousand years before!

“Are you not worried that Rhaenyra may actually have bastards that she may claim as false heirs to Driftmark, Gael? Given that Laenor is, well, drawn to his own gender?” Rahima asked, changing the subject back to the original. 

“Trying to explain the non-Valyrian looks by using Jocelyn being born in House Baratheon and Lord Rodik Arryn being a natural light brown in hair color? Hah, that lie will be destroyed by Jocelyn herself, Rhaenys and Corlys if this second baby AND the following one of Rhaenyra does not look like Laenor when coming out in the world. While I have full sympathy for Laenor not being able to perform in bed and sire children on her, I think Rhaenyra willfully ignores the dangers of passing off a bastard as a legal child and therefore pose a threat to legal heirs. If Lucamore Strong truly was the real father of Alyssa, then Rhaenya is proving that she lacks the crafty mind of my birth mother when it comes to successfully pass off a bastard as the legal child of her Valyrian-looking husband; 1) foolishly doing it already with her needed heir and spare, not afterwards when a third child would get less attention, and 2) failing to realize that a dark-haired child is going to stick out among the Targaryens. Jocelyn and Alicent are both dark-haired, and yet their offspring still have enough traits from the Targaryen parents, Aemon from Rhaenys and Viserys for the children in his second marriage, to not be doubted as anything else than legally born.”

Even Helaena, who took after Alicent the most in appearance, was enough like Viserys in the face to not be mistaken as a bastard sired by another man!

Picking up the last water in her cup, Gael formed a drop of ice from her finger, letting it shatter against the ground. 

“Besides…children can easily die in childhood accidents or from illness that can be perfectly natural, with no motive for murder in the background. That is the same for every set of parents, be they commoners, lords or royals.” 

Another reason to see if Rhaenyra did wise up as she got a little older, was that the children of Viserys and Alicent were still children, all with less than a decade in age. But, as Queen Aemma Targaryen neé Arryn had told Gael on that last day she had been alive: 

“I grant you the freedom to not be bound by an oath or strict promise to make Rhaenyra the Queen Regnant, aunt Gael. If Viserys messes her up by paternal favoritism and sheltering her from facing consequences for ill-suited behavior, then you have my permission to keep Rhaenyra off the Iron Throne as punishment for acting out of line too many times. Perhaps the worst punishment could be to have to witness someone else be a more successful ruler than herself, and face the hard reality that she has only herself to blame for messing up her own life and possible legacy for future generations. ” 

Even if she had never reached her 24th birthday, this proved how the late Lord Rodrik Arryn had successfully raised his youngest child before she was stolen from him. That Aemma knew the difference between idealism and reality, and understood that her daughter could easily become her own worst enemy. 

Chapter Text

For all of that the news of Daemon getting sent into exile was much welcomed by most people, there was naturally some who did disagree with that. Like how Mysaria suddenly found herself without a protector in Westeros, and Rhaenyra offering to take the Lyseni woman into her own household, because as a foreigner, Mysaria would face a difficult future unless she found a work where she could put her skills to use, and she was not that keen on returning to selling her body.   

“They cannot do this to Daemon! Uncle…can those damn broom-flying women in their black hats NOT see how they have robbed him of the glory of being one of the best warriors in our family tree yet!?” 

Growing alarmed over her reaction and what sort of possible results that could come if this went out of control, Laenor tried to reason with his wife, that the Sisterhood did not cast a such wide-spread exile on a person without some form of justification, but Rhaenyra refused to listen on him. 

“Nyra, please! Do not…”

Too late, she had mounted Syrax and flew away towards the capital, likely to complain to her father about the exile of Daemon. Sighing loudly, feeling very disappointed over that he couldn't change her mind, Laenor adjusted his hold on Jacaerys in his arms. 

“I care for your mother as a good friend, son, but sometimes I…worries about her doing something that will cause long-term harm to not only herself, but those she cares about, like you and me….” 

Laenor knew that he should fly after Rhaenyra, but at the same time, he had a strong feeling that it was best to remain at Dragonstone for now, if only to hide that his “son” was starting to show in his physical appearance that Laenor was not the true father of Jacaerys, but rather Harwin Strong. 

“I am sorry, son. Out of all times when House Targaryen and Velaryon have such clear Valyrian traits in nearly every generation, you were unlucky enough to take after Harwin instead of Rhaenyra…” 

Was it a mistake to allow Rhaenyra to be with Harwin, letting him sire her children? Perhaps, but Laenor wanted her to be happy, and have the children that he could never give her. Yes, he knew that the Sisterhood would offer assistance if asked, just like Jeyne Arryn and Camil Mallister had done to have their own child, but…    

Laenor knew that Rhaenyra, in her pride, would never request help from the Sisterhood with having his children. Not to mention, as the Crown Princess and her Consort, there was already enough gossip about his taste in men over women, and that the King had only wed them to unite the bloodlines of the descendants of King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne, instead of having the possible claims spread across more families in future marriages. 

“....merciful Seven, am I the one to blame for the chaos to come?” Laenor asked towards the sky, feeling lost, “If so…then I beg for forgiveness over my weakness…”  

It was already a nightmare to just think of what the King and his own father Corlys would do, if Jacaerys was revealed as a bastard and therefore a illegal claim to both the Iron Throne and Driftmark. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

And this very unhappy Crown Princess was exactly what met Gael and Rahima when they visited the Red Keep together, to give Aegon a little private lesson in how Daemon had failed to keep the Stepstones for quite a few reasons despite his skills as a warrior and having Caraxes. 

“Why did the Sisterhood make a peace agreement that did not let Westeros take control over the Stepstones?! Uncle Daemon could have beaten their fleet with Caraxes!” 

To be fair against Rhaenyra, her having mood swings because of her pregnancy, was to be expected. But at the same time, Gael was not in the mood to hear her great-niece insisting that Daemon would have been the winner of the war without the Sisterhood, and this also showed how little Rhaenyra actually understood some details from a different view. 

“Rhaenyra, stop it! ” Gael snapped, cutting off the Crown Princess before she could start another long rant about how Daemon would have won because he was a dragonrider, “I do not want to hear anything more about your uncle and his “supposedly easily” victories because of Caraxes! For the mercy of the Gods, you are the future monarch, yet you think that being a dragonrider is the key to victory?” 

Stunned by Gael cutting her off like that, Rhaenyra tried to start again:

“A dragon can burn a whole fleet…” 

“Not when there is an alliance of enemies that can afford to build up a new fleet and pay fresh soldiers to take the place of those who are lost!” Rahima muttered, and her somewhat tense body language alongside that glare, did warn Gael that her lover would not hesitate to give Rhaenyra a cold shower from above if the princess didn't listen to them.

“Aegon, please lend us a hand here with that map.”

Hearing himself being addressed from where he was studying a world map for one of his lessons later that day, the oldest son of Alicent got off his chair and brought over a small bowl with nuts at the request of Gael. 

“Look here, Rhaenyra.”

Placing a nut on each of the Free Cities of Lys, Myr and Tyrosh on the map, Gael started: 

“First, it is three cities that have enough money for building a fleet and pay whole companies of sellswords for fighting. The trade from all over the world gives them that income. Westeros? We have to draft men from across the whole continent, and there will be a limited number of affordable soldiers for the Targaryens or Lords to call upon, the longer a war goes on…” 

“It is just to draft new men from the smallfolk, then!” 

In response, Rahima slammed her closed fist into the table, causing the nuts to jump. 

“No,” she almost snarled in the face of Rhaenyra, “Try to tell that to the widows who get left behind in a war. The wives whose husbands were ordered to march out in war on orders from a noble they have never seen. The aged, already widowed mothers who may see their adult sons vanish out of their lives, never to return alive, dying far away from home. The children, who lose their fathers and other men who could prove a safe adult in their lives. The fathers, grandfathers, uncles, brothers, cousins, sons and friends... All those who never return home. All the commoner men who leave behind grieving families all across Westeros, who do not even have their dead bodies to bury back in the small villages or other places they call home, because all these men have died in a senseless battle or for other reasons far from home. Do you really think that a huge number of lost men in their best years of life, will not affect society and the economy in the longer term?” 

Because a bard's ballad about a victorious Prince and his fire-breathing dragon defeating the enemy, doesn't put a roof over your head, it doesn't put food on the table, it doesn't hold you during the chill of winter, and whisper that it'll be okay as the storm rages outside. 

“Because the Free Cities can pay more sellswords to replace lost soldiers, while we would be affected by the growing loss of men and the Stepstones cost the Crown a huge amount of money because uncle did not set up an economy for the Stepstones as his own kingdom?” Aegon asked carefully, to which Rahima smiled and responded in a far more gentle tone:   

“Good showing of your Hightower blood and how a lot of their power base comes from ruling Oldtown, one of the main trade posts in Westeros.”

Of course, Rhaenyra did not like to be proved wrong. 

“The war could not have cost that much, Father never asked for raised taxes…!” 

Gael held up a parchment roll.  

“Then take a look at this sum before you say anything more.”

It was the master of coins, who had collected men with good skills in math and finances, to try and see how much money the war for the Stepstones had really cost the Crown. Judging from how she paled upon seeing the final sum and could not even say anything as she looked between the parchment and Gael in disbelief, Rhaenyra clearly had not expected that amount. 

“Do you really think that Daemon will be able to pay back that amount of money all by himself, without having anything close to even resembling a steady income outside regular plundering and acting like a pirate or something similar?” Gael made a point of asking in a raised yet calm voice, grabbing the parchment so Aegon could also see why his older half-sister was stunned to silence, “And do not even mention Rhea as the Lady of Runestone, everyone knows how estranged their marriage is and Jeyne would never accept Daemon trying to claim the lands, castles and income of House Royce on the grounds of said marriage, when her twin sister Alexandra and her children are the heirs of Rhea, should something happen to Rhea herself.”  

While impossible to say if Rhaenyra really understood the depths of how much money that Daemon had wasted in the senseless war over the Stepstones, she tried to not act worried as she turned around and left. 

 When Alicent was told by Aegon of the words her stepdaughter had said to Gael and Rahima, she somehow was not surprised. 

“If Viserys has any common sense, then he should send over someone to teach Rhaenyra finances. I know that it generally falls on a steward serving a castle or keep, to check on bills and similar, but it is part of the education for a noble's daughter to learn financial management. Otherwise, it will go the same way as many families find out the hard way: Spending too much on various things that may actually be worthless in the long run, and you risk getting trapped in debts that will leave the family noticeably poorer and struggling to keep up their expected standards of living.”

All Hightowers learned to not be careless with coins, both boys and girls, as a way to be reminded of their origins despite whatever path they may take in life, depending on their birth order and such details. 

“Mother…am I…weird for being worried about Rhaenyra possibly crossing a line with the Sisterhood? I mean, great-aunt Gael is a Witch, and yet House Targaryen somehow…does not seem to understand why it could be fatal to reject her?” Aegon wondered, scratching his neck in the manner he would do whatever he had a strong feeling of something being wrong. 

“No, Aegon,” Alicent responded, laying her hands on his shoulders so their eyes met, “I have managed to teach you the importance of keeping a good relationship with the Sisterhood, so naturally the behavior of your father, sister and uncle towards Gael…is even more baffling when compared.” 

For Aegon, who was not yet eight years old, that answer was good enough for now. For him, it was indeed confusing over how Gael was treated, when Mother always stressed that making yourself the enemy of a witch, was asking for ruining your remaining years of life. 

And if this proved right, then uncle Daemon really was in trouble, and not merely for what had caused his exile from the whole of Westeros. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X   

On the other hand, there was a nagging feeling in her mind that Gael could not throw away.

“Rahima. We need to gather our children and travel to Vaes Dothrak, as soon as possible, even without Frostfyre as the more comfortable and faster method of travel. I fear that Daemon may aim to “conquer ” the Dothraki and make himself their ruler by how the Valyrian Freehold once enslaved those horse-riding nomads for shorter periods before the dosh khaleen revealed themselves as their version of the Sisterhood here in Westeros.”  

Facepalming at the mere mental image of Daemon doing something such and thinking that he would be the winner thanks to Caraxes, the Dornish water witch muttered something about “stupidity caused by inbreeding” and “blinding entitlement” that was best to stomp out as soon as the brat in question was still a toddler and learning how to behave.  

“Do you realize the very real possibility that Daemon may actually use Caraxes to distract you, and then use Dark Sister to harm you?” 

“And that is why I will request Cahal to come along. As my champion in battle, because while I am good at self-defense with both magic and improvised weapons, Daemon is far more muscular than myself and will not be above cheating in some form.” 

This was serious stuff, Rahima knew, for the Free Folk viewed it as a massive responsibility to be named as the champion of a witch in a duel or something else involving weapons, where the witch was not sure if she could grab the victory herself without serious harm. Not only was it a public statement of deep trust between the witch and the man chosen for the task, but of the witch also showing humility before the gods by not believing oneself invincible by being blessed with magic, in realizing that she still had her own limitations. 

“Daemon facing Cahal in a duel? And him pissing off the Dothraki by targeting their holy city? Now that will be a tale to spread!” Rahima smirked as she almost jumped in delight, sounding a little too eager for what to come, but Gael did not comment. It was just how her lover enjoyed witnessing arrogant people cause their own humiliation or other forms of fall from grace with their own actions. 

“Yes. Besides…it may be a good lesson for Rhaenyra as well: That dragons and their fire are not always the right solution to problems, or to show themselves as superior to others. ”

Alicent was already doing a good job in raising her children to have common sense, so there was no reason to worry about Aegon, Helaena and Aemond yet, and Daeron was just a baby still. No, it was Rhaenyra that would need that dose of reality dumped over her head with how Daemon kept ruining everything for himself. 

Chapter Text

Knowing that Frostfyre was busy with raising her newest set of hatchlings and protecting her nest from any dangers towards her babies, Gael did not even travel to the Lands of Always Winter to try getting the female dragon with her group.  

“When even I who have her as my spirit animal, risk to be set on fire as a possible threat at this state when her hatchlings are only a month old, then no one else will succeed in coming close to the nest,” she explained as they packed very lightly, only two sets of clothing to have outside the ones to be traveling in. Not only was it the beginning of summer, but they needed to travel as fast as possible and could not carry a lot of packing with them, if Daemon would arrive on Caraxes to Vaes Dothrak not long after them. 

“Fair point. Besides, if Frostfyre is there, Daemon may actually try to make it a duel between dragon riders…”

At once, Gael tensed up for a moment, the memories of that day threatening to surface before she pushed them back down. Because of how she nearly had died thanks to her own birth parents, she had never felt comfortable with the idea of a duel between dragon riders up in the air. Even with all the power and strength of Frostfyre, Gael was far too familiar with how quickly things could change if two dragons and their riders teamed up against a third one. 

“Everyone ready? Then let's go.”

Without Frostfyre, the journey was a little different. They went straight from Last Hearth to White Harbour, where they slept overnight as guests of House Manderly. From there, crossing the Three Sisters towards the Eyrie in the Vale where Jeyne and Camil welcomed them overnight. And finally, setting off from Gulltown towards Braavos, as a group of merchant ships offered them a dry place to sleep overnight because crossing the narrow sea in one day would cost too much magical power. 

“I can see the logic in taking the journey in steps. Is it because traveling by portals between two places is said to have a high price?” Cahal asked as they came closer to Braavos. 

“Takes too much magical strength from a single witch because portals are a very high level of magic far beyond everyday use, and even a bigger group can have difficulty to cover enough distance. Besides, there are tales of witches getting stranded somewhere half-way to their original destination because their power has been drained too much.” 

That confirmed his guess about why they were traveling like this. 

From Braavos, they went towards Norvos and Qohor, because it was the fastest route towards the Dothraki Sea. 

“We will not stay here for long, I can sense a lot of eyes on us…” 

With how Qohor had a certain reputation for the dark arts, it was very rare for witches to be found here outside those who would perform blood magic and necromancy. Besides, in a city like this, it was hard to miss that there were many glares towards Gael, Cahal and Aemma despite them covering up themselves to hide their pale skin. In a place like this, enslaved Free Folk with pale skin and natural blonde or red hair alongside blue eyes, was seen as exotic and only sold to the most wealthy of the noble families here. 

“Ah, there is a caravan aimed for Vaes Dothrak! Let's team up with them until we leave Qohor behind!” 

~X~X~X~X~X~X  

About two days away from the holy city, they met up with the khalasar led by Jochi, who welcomed the group upon realizing who the travelers were and Safiya hugging everyone on that side of her family in joy over meeting again. And neither he or Sarkan was impressed to hear what Daemon might do, as they kept traveling until evening when they would make camp for the night. 

“I have to agree with literally everyone else in this, Gael. Your nephew by blood is dancing with death by his chosen lifestyle and will find out the hard way that dragons can be defeated, even if it seems unlikely. Did not that ancestor of Rahima manage to shoot down one of the three dragons used to conquer Westeros?” 

“Yasmine Uller, yes, by shooting a scorpion bolt into the eye of that dragon and causing it to fall from the sky, crushing Rhaenys Targaryen to death underneath its own body upon landing on the ground. It is not like a human can control the angle of landing when being pulled along by a dead body far bigger than yourself,” Rahima confirmed with pride over her ancestor, keeping a eye on a carriage where Aziz had been allowed to sit with some other children in his age, while the rest of the group had been lended horses to ride. 

“Not to mention, destroying or dishonoring a holy site will have the Gods curse you. Punishment does not always come directly like a bolt of lighting, but slowly when you least expect it,” Cahal said from his place further back behind them, using an amber amulet that Gael had added a translation spell on, so he could make himself understood despite the different languages. 

“Like how Maegor the Cruel undoubtedly did to himself by burning the Sept of Remembrance.”

Seriously, it was for reasons like this, that Gael felt ashamed of being born into House Targaryen. 

As they made camp for the night, Gael made a point of glaring over between Jochi and Cahal just in case, because she really wanted to avoid a misunderstanding between the two men. Yes, they were both someone she had slept with yet firmly made clear that she refused to get married just for losing her virginity to Cahal and that Safiya was the daughter of Jochi, and the least thing she wanted was to become the object of jealousy between two men. 

“You are not building up a harem of lovers that will compete for your attention, if that is what bothers you, Gael. Jochi is not that sort of guy and is merely trying to see if that handsome fellow is willing to test a duel,” Sarkan commented when noticing what the white-haired woman was doing, pausing in the middle of sewing on a piece of fabric that would become a new tunic, just as Jochi and Cahal did indeed test out how the fighting styles of their respective culture would go against each other. 

“I have heard a little too many stories of two suitors that will compete for the maiden's hand and how not all of them end in a joyful manner…” she said, while Aziz, Aemma and the children of Sarkan with Jochi got their full attention on what the two men was doing. 

That sort of courtship was literally unheard off in the North because they did not have the tradition of knights outside White Harbour, but in the South of Westeros you could hear stories about Queens of Love and Beauty in tourneys, and how it was not always the best way of getting a spouse for yourself. 

“Seriously, are you two grown-up men or boys?!” 

The good-natured scolding brought Gael back to reality, to see Jochi and Cahal ending up in a draw about their improvised wrestling match where a lot of the khalasar could see them. Well, at least they were mature enough to not act childish and insist on the other man having cheated in some form, like what Daemon would have. 

“Well, Cahal, you have just won some high level of respect from the warriors here by both being a skilled fighter and not trying some dirty tricks.” 

Dusting off his clothing, he calmly responded:

“I do not fancy ending up like a hedgehog with arrows in my body for showing disrespect for other cultures.” 

And with that, he also showed why he and Gael had succeeded in staying friends even after beaking up their more romantic relationship. 

Finally, they arrived to Vaes Dothrak. There, showing no shame over undressing herself as a sign of honestly in what she had to tell, Gael did not waste any time in telling the dosh khaleen about her worries in how Daemon may try to attack the holy city as the Dothraki gathered here for one of their most sacred festivals, held every fifty years to honor the number of the dosh khaleen who had saved their people from the slavery of the dragon riders. 

“I know that I am possibly being too paranoid when it comes to this nephew of mine, but his…history in life so far is not exactly peaceful,” Gael admitted, where she was seated in front of the Dothraki witches and shamans, sitting with crossed legs as they talked. 

“Gaea,” one of the older women addressed her with the closest variant of her name to be found in their language, “Even if Prince Daemon Targaryen shows some common sense for once in his life, we still are grateful for you coming here in person and warning us about what he may do. You are right in that, should his dragon attack during the sacred festival, a lot of people will be injured and even killed. That is not what we desire to witness happening during a holy time like this.”

Kneeling in gratitude for their words, Gael knew that if Daemon indeed showed up, he would find out what a mistake it was to be attacking as a single dragon rider. 

“Can you and your daughter help us with defending Vaes Dothrak, Gaea? Alongside that water witch you have brought along.”

“That was the reason behind our journey here.”

From the way she clearly was happy when reuniting with the rest of her group, they could tell that the meeting was a success. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X  

Meanwhile in Spicetown on Driftmark: 

The protests of the mother were in vain, as she was forcefully thrown out though the front door, her two-year-old daughter crying from being handed roughly as the child was tossed into her arms. The dark skin on both mother and daughter revealed them to have a lineage from the Summer Isles 

“Do not come back here! I have no use for a whore as a servant!” the old widow of the small household shouted, holding a cane in a threatening manner towards the former maid of hers, who had been a payment to the household from a sailor some years previously. 

“Please, have mercy, milady! I was not willing, on that night my Nettles were begotten! The young master and his friends were drunk…!” 

“Lies! All lies from a whore! First you sleep with my son, and then with my grandson! That bastard of yours, is no blood relative of this family! Spreading your legs for sailors down in the docks, that is what you should be doing! I only kept you here until now because my late son wanted some company in bed after the death of my respectable, hard-working daughter-in-law!” 

With the door slammed shut, the mother knew that she had lost the last attempt to stay as a household maid. 

“I am sorry, Nettles…Mama is really sorry…” 

She knew that none of the other households around the town would take her in, nearly everyone knew about Nettles and there was a high risk of something happening again… 

“No, not the brothel or the docks! I will not sell my body for money or food if I can avoid it!” 

Honestly, even a foreigner such as herself had some self-respect! If she allowed others to step over her and treat her like dirt on their shoes, then Nettles would suffer more than what she already did at this young age! 

The first part for tonight was to get as far away from her former employer as she could be, but food and a roof over their heads was another problem.

Nettles had been quiet ever since stopping crying, as if she could sense that her mother struggled with something she did not really understand. 

“Eh?” 

The sound of a herd of terrified sheep, and the roar of a dragon, followed by the smell of smoke. 

“Oh, no…someone has lost a sheep to Sheepstealer again…” 

But the smell of roasted mutton was too tempting for the mother, who knew that her child needed food. And if there was any fire left in the grass, they could stay warm for the night if she managed to keep it going in a small campfire. 

Tomorrow, as soon as the dawn broke, she would bring herself and Nettles to the local smallfolk witch, because selling her own body for coin down at the docks was not the only way of survival and Nettles would learn that being a bastard was not always promising a unhappy life. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X    

Being a holy festival that only happened every fifty years, it was something that not every generation among the Dothraki could expect to witness. 

“By having it start after dawn, it is meant to symbolize the new life of freedom that those fifty dosh khaleen managed to give their people.” 

As always, it was forbidden to wear a blade or shed a free man's blood within the confines of Vaes Dothrak. Outside said confines, it was a different matter, but everyone knew that the Gods would punish anyone who broke that taboo and disgraced the sacred city. 

“Look, the dance and horse race with the torches now in the last remaining light before dawn is almost magical despite there being no magic involved…” 

Here, the lava power of Safiya even was used to create beautiful shapes of fire above the ground. 

Basically, it was a festival meant of gratitude for the Dothraki people escaping slavery, as shown in how a central part was to first shoot arrows on and then burn straw figures of the Valyrian people and their dragons. 

“And…silence!” 

At the order, an almost unnerving silence fell over Vaes Dothrak as a sign of respect for the fifty women who were hailed this day, only the cracking fires and the horses around the city. And in the far distance…

The roar of a dragon. 

“Keep baiting him to come by making all the expected noise that is to happen when so many people gather together.” 

Without question, Gael and Rahima teamed up with those of the dosh khaleen who had similar powers as themselves, creating a massive fog over both the city and the surrounding parts of the Dothraki Sea to better hide from Daemon, who would be forced to trust Caraxes about following scents. 

“It is time for my nephew to learn a lesson…” Gael started, setting up her hair in a braid so the earrings, showing her as a secondary wife of Jochi was visible, “about what it really means that not everyone will bow to the Targaryens and their dragons.” 

Taking her broom, she flew up in the air to act as bait for her nephew. Not only would Daemon not expect to see Gael there, but she knew how to distract him from the real danger that would be hidden on the ground. 

Chapter Text

Due to the distance between Essos and Westeros, it was impossible for Helaena to know what really happened at Vaes Dothrak at that moment. 

“Um…” 

And yet, she woke up, looked around to see Aemond asleep in his corner of the nursery and Daeron the same in his cradle, and then carefully slipped out of her own bed and walked across the chambers towards a closed window without a sound like a little ghost, ignoring the feeling of her bare feet against the floor as she first grabbed a few pillows to stand on. Then, trying to keep her balance, the young princess opened the shutters to let in the faint morning light. 

“Beware the animal whisper and the brown dragon when you return home to Westeros, uncle. ” 

Again, it was her Hightower blood that acted up, in the manner it would sometimes do even in girls who were not fated to become witches. After all, with that family being one of the oldest ones in Westeros, sometimes odd things happening to normal family members in every generation was almost expected by this point. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X    

It was not the morning fog that worried Daemon, Caraxes could smell the intended targets and according to what he had heard while being in Pentos, those horse-riding nomads would be easily defeated from the air. 

“Hah! As if a life in exile will mean me getting dependent on the goodwill of others!” 

It had annoyed him very much that for some reason, he had been unable to enter Braavos in the hope of charming Laena into making her husband and his wealthy father, the current Sealord of Braavos, to having him as a guest for a unlimited time, but he had tried to not be too bothered by that. 

“Annoying thick fog, though…”

Then, a shape burst out from below, and Caraxes made an unamused sound at the temperature dropping around them as Gael revealed herself. 

“Good morning, nephew. Planning to cause trouble as always?” 

Her appearance did not exactly make him happy, if that was the right word for what Daemon felt when realizing who it was. 

“Since you are without that dragon of yours, and no other form of backup to help in a battle…suit yourself! ” 

Caraxes bolted forwards, his jaw half-open to try and burn Gael alive with dragonfire. Yet she merely dropped herself down a little bit as a way to duck for the heat. 

“I think that you need to cool your head, clearly you have been drinking cheap alcohol in a bar somewhere in the Free Cities before coming here.” 

Snapping her fingers, Gael sent down an ice shape right below Caraxes, so he could be tracked even in the fog, before creating a small snow storm around them. 

“Are you calling me a cheap sellsword waiting for employment?! You and the other witches denied me the chance to reclaim the Stepstones!” 

Yup, Gael thought for herself as she swiftly flew around Caraxes in circles, keeping out of reach for the dragonfire and not staying still, Daemon really was pissed off about the Stepstones. 

“What, exactly, are you whining about?” she asked, crossing her arms as a sign of not being impressed with his words, “Daemon, your record of not being able to stay in bases of power for long, was proved when you gave your self-claimed crown to Viserys four years ago! Besides, exactly what were your long-term plans for the Stepstones, really, outside fighting and asking Viserys for more money and soldiers?”

She planned to make him become more reckless and get caught by surprise, if she just kept Daemon focused on herself. But the problem was the very high risk of him ordering Caraxes to set her on fire this high up in the air, because it was a long way down to the ground if she fell off the broom and no witch was fond of crash-landing that would cause serious injuries if they could not prevent the fall.   

“Shut up! Shut up and stop laying obstacles in my way towards being a name that will be remembered for all future! Dracarys! ” 

But that was a mistake for Daemon to order Caraxes to burn her, as Gael just steered her broom down into the fog and naturally, Daemon was too angry to even think of the possibility of a trap as he followed after his aunt. 

“RELEASE!! ” 

At once, the responding attack from the Dothraki came. A literal sea of arrows was shot against the red dragon, and even as the hardened scales on his belly and throat did protect any weak spots, the first wave of arrows had just started.

“Spread out! Spread out everywhere! Keep that flying lizard away from the holy city!” 

Any rivalry between different khalasar was forgotten at this moment, as they all teamed up to protect their holy city. In fact, while the men were riding out in groups to spread out, women, elders and children past a certain age, assisted by firing their own bows as far and wide as they could without hitting their own men. 

For Daemon, this was really not going to plan. As far as he had imagined, it would be an easy victory, making Caraxes burn any enemies that they met, and keep any other Dothraki trembling in fear for the dragonfire. 

“What the…?!” 

He tried to have Caraxes burn a few of the riders, but the waves of arrows did not stop coming. In fact, to his growing alarm, the arrows kept picking holes in the leathery wings, and Caraxes was visibly struggling to stay flying as his full body weight was no longer easily carried. 

“No….no, no…no…!” Daemon whispered in honest panic as he realized what was about to happen, and was proved right in the following moment, as there now existed enough holes on the wings of Caraxes to make the dragon literally crash landing with no way to stop it.  

“Eh?” Daemon wondered in the following moment, as he realized that there were two large shadows falling over him and looked up. 

Only for the shadows to reveal themselves to be two massive horses made of all the previously released arrows, as they reared on the hind legs, the four front hooves aiming straight for the spine of Caraxes.  

“Of course you are close enough to the ground to not die…and that last wishing magic around you is fading away…” Gael muttered as she just swept aside, ignoring the sounds of Caraxes roaring in pain as his spine was breaking under the force and weight of the magically crafted massive horses. And there was nothing Daemon could do than cling to the saddle and the long neck of the dragon, as Caraxes fell to the ground. 

“AAAAAAAHHH! ” 

It was neither a comfortable or gentle landing for neither dragon or rider as Caraxes crashed along the ground for some hundred meters, and Daemon had to roll away as the massive hooves came down again from the sky, unable to do anything else than watching in helplessness as Caraxes was not exactly given a painless, quick death as his body was stomped over and over, repeatedly. 

Landing near the nearest group of riders who kept shooting arrows at Caraxes, aiming for the massive, bleeding wounds that were not protected by the scales anymore, Gael did not need to tell Jochi and the others what to do.  

“Remember what the dosh khaleen told everyone, if he is captured alive he will be worth a fortune in ransom.”

This was how Gael planned, to weaponize the already bad reputation of Daemon across Westeros though his own impulsive behavior, to the point of forcing Viserys and Rhaenyra to make a choice about him: Would it really be worth the well known dislike of Daemon among the nobles and the smallfolk alike, to collect the demanded ransom and yet also risking that Daemon had still learned NOTHING about all this later? 

“Cahal, be ready to act as my champion any moment now, please.”

The Free Folk warrior nodded, as he drew his sword and Gael placed herself so she would be visible when the dust settled.  

~X~X~X~X~X~X   

Finally, the last, painful sounds from Caraxes died out, as the “Blood Wyrm” laid still on the grass and the dust was blown away in the winds, blood still slipping out from the gaping wounds with ribs sticking out and the whole body broken from the repeated stompings. For being made of arrows, the magical hooves had been overwhelmingly heavy and sharp enough to tear through the protective scales on the dragon's body. Not to mention, with his wings too tattered to keep his body floating, the crash landing had been inevitable, and there had been no way that Caraxes would have been able to escape with his spine broken in this manner. 

“...Caraxes….?” 

Daemon was staring at the unmoving dragon, his face showing a mixture of pain, disbelief and dawning anger quickly turning into an angry snarl that was completely changing his otherwise still handsome appearance for a man his age. 

“YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS, GAEL!!! YOU AND THOSE UNCIVILIZED BARBARIANS!! ”

With Dark Sister drawn, Daemon rushed forwards towards Gael, showing clearly that he would not be above committing kinslaying, one of the strongest taboos in Westeros, in his wrath over losing Caraxes in this manner. 

“Cahal, please be so kind and take out that trash which I have to call my nephew by blood,” she requested in a disappointed voice over how Daemon had still not caught on how outnumbered he was. 

“As you desire.”

With his current tunnel vision focusing on his aunt that always seemed to ruin things for him by her mere presence, Daemon did try to strike Gael in a manner that would either lead to beheading or a long cut across her upper body, only to suddenly find himself blocked mid-blow by Cahal, whose height and physical strength was matching Daemon, as the Free Folk warrior had no problems to push Daemon backwards with sheer force. 

“Here is much-needed social lesson number one for you, nephew,” Gael commented in a low voice, “Aiming to harm or kill a Witch is punishable both in the North, beyond the Wall and here on the Dothraki Sea!” 

Sending off a cold dust of ice crystals and razor-sharp snowflakes towards Daemon from her closed fist, Gael threw her nephew backwards without harming Cahal, who did not waste any time in capturing Daemon into a sword duel. 

“Ha, ha, ha!” Rahima laughed from somewhere above, as she used a large snake made out of water to watch what happened, “Let us see who will win! The hardened Free Folk warrior…or the inbred royal prince who caused his own health to be ruined by brothel visits from a young age and never thinking that there may be unpleasant side-effects from such a visit?”   

Indeed, there was no nothing left of whatever faint remains of the wishing magic that have surrounded Daemon from his conception in Harrenhal as a very poorly chosen place for some love-making by Prince Baelon and Princess Alyssa. It was like a glamor suddenly had fallen off him, and rather than the handsome man that had successfully groomed Rhaenyra into letting him take her virginity some years ago, there was now a unhealthy look to Daemon in how he seemed paler than normal, his eyes had bags and he seemed less muscular than previously despite still being in reasonable good shape as a warrior. Clearly, for all his time at the Stepstones, there was something which he had tried to hide very hard from those who may see.

“And that is why I am so careful about staying faithful in every relationship that I have had. Not merely for avoiding unwanted pregnancies from some unknown man, but the risk of catching something more unpleasant that could wreck my health at some point in the future,” Gael muttered to herself in distaste, as Daemon grew more and more desperate to defeat Cahal, only to find out that the other man indeed could match his own skill with the sword and had the stamina to possibly defeat the Targaryen Prince by not wasting energy on unnecessary movements. 

“Is there something you would like us to ensure, while he is going to remain in the custody of our people until that planned ransom for him has been fully paid?” Jochi asked, seeing in her tense body language that Gael would not want to be physically touched right now. 

“Yes. Remove that tongue of his and geld him into a clean-shaved eunuch because those are Daemon's favorite weapons outside that family sword and his now dead dragon. He is far too used to being able to belittle and insult people without suffering any real punishment for his words of choice, and he has always been proud of trying to be a prime example of a manly man back home in Westeros.” 

Honestly, had this been happening in the pre-Targaryen kingdoms before the Sisterhood lost so many members for various reasons and grew weaker as a result, Daemon would have already in childhood been dragged off to “learn better manners” by physical and mental punishments than the behavior he had always gotten away with by being a royal prince and dragonrider. 

“Admit it, sweet Ice Crystal, this is a perfect timing for him to learn that some people just will not bow to a Targaryen dragonrider for any reason,” Rahima said in a almost seductive voice, indirectly “kissing” Gael boldly on the lips by planting some water drops there. 

“What do you think I am doing right now?” 

And then Daemon proved again that he was a impulsive person without thinking ahead of possible consequences that were possibly not what he expected: 

Grabbing a dagger from his belt, he threw it straight at Gael while Cahal instinctively pulled himself aside because it could be aimed at his face. Tossing both their hunting bows in front of her, Jochi and Sarkan shielded Gael by blocking the dagger, as did Aemma, Safiya and Rahima though their respective powers.

“Oi, you inbred freak…” Rahima growled in a dangerous voice as her eyes narrowed in anger over what Daemon just had tried to do, “You are really desperate to dance with DEATH just like how Princess Meria warned that foolish sister-wife of the first Aegon!! ”

Even Jochi, normally quite stoic, was really pissed about what could have happened if they had not reacted in time. Yes, Gael was technically not a secondary wife of his because they did not live together or anything such like her choosing to start living the same nomadic lifestyle as his people, but she was the mother of his eldest daughter and the woman who had saved Sarkan from dying in childbirth back when their firstborn son Berke had proved to be a difficult birth! 

“Daemon, you really know nothing about Dothraki culture,” Gael said in honest disappointment over his failure to read the current situation as Jochi rode forwards with his own arakh sword raised for attack, “Another man being caught red-handed in the act of attacking a khal's woman with either the intend to harm or sexually assault her, be she his legally wedded Khaleesi, a secondary wife of lesser status or a slave concubine given as a gift…you are literally asking to be gelded with a heated-up blade without any painkiller by a such act.” 

Unleashing a huge amount of water as she made a sweeping movement with her arms, Rahima ruined Daemon's steel armor by turning every single piece of it into rust and then have the pieces falling off his body, before she forced Daemon to focus on keeping his balance as the ground below his feet suddenly became muddy and slippery, followed by Sarkan shooting one arrow into his dominant arm in a show of how the Dothraki women was expected to learn archery as well from a early age. 

“Ow!” 

But they were not the only ones attacking Daemon in fury for his attempt to harm Gael. Running forwards as her father slashed the Prince in the shoulder almost at the same spot as Sarkan's arrow had landed into his flesh, Safiya had grabbed her own Dothraki hunting bow. Showing how it could be used in other ways, the biological daughter of Gael knocked Dark Sister out of Daemon's dominant hand by swinging the bow like a sword for a wider reach, sending the Targaryen heirloom flying up in the air to land at the feet of Cahal, before she threw herself over Daemon, keeping him in place and forcing him to land on his back, by kneeling across his chest with her knees on his arms to prevent any movements and pushing down the bow over his throat. 

“TRY ANYTHING OF THAT TARGARYEN SUPERIORITY NONSENSE AND USE OF YOUR DRAGON OR VALYRIAN BLOOD NOW, FUCKING BASTARD!! NONE OF US WILL BOW IN SUBMISSION TO YOU OR ANYONE ELSE FROM YOUR DAMN FAMILY!! ” 

Again, Safiya's lack of the classical Targaryen appearance and taking so strongly after her Dothraki father was proving to be in her favor, even this close to Daemon, who really got a clear look on her furious face, her black eyes filled with repulsion, from how he laid below her. By being dressed in traditional Dothraki clothing, per her habit at every visit, and screaming at Daemon in the native language of her birth father, Safiya had successfully disguised herself as a possible daughter of Jochi and Sarkan. Unless she was directly addressed in a manner that revealed their blood ties, there was no way Safiya would be revealed to him as a until now unknown female cousin born from Gael.   

“That is my girl,” Gael smiled in pride, enjoying the sight of how beaten Daemon was, as others rushed forwards to bind him with ropes. Not far away, Cahal picked up Dark Sister from the ground, looked over the Valyrian sword thoughtfully, before tossing it aside in a dismissing manner.  

“Its design stands out too much compared to other swords crafted in the North and beyond the Wall at home. It would attract too many questions about how I got my hands on it, and I have no desire to be hunted around as a thief by the royal family down south.”

Honestly, he already had a good sword that he had been using since his youth. Why switch it out to a Valyrian steel sword when it was not damaged in any manner? Yes, Valyrian steel blades were lighter, stronger, harder, and sharper than even the best castle-forged steel, but given how rare they were now since the Doom of Valyria, Cahal did not want that sort of unwanted attention. 

Chapter Text

Once he was bound and gagged, Daemon was forcefully dragged along the ground. Insults and other harsh words in the air, in a language he naturally did not understand. A few of the Dothraki even tossed a few stones at him, just to show how unwelcomed he was here in the most holy site of their people.  

“Kill him! ”     

“He tried to murder us and burn down our holy city! ” 

“Kill that dragon rider! We do not want any descendants of those slave-owners from Valyria here! ” 

It was only on the firm orders of the dosh khaleen that Daemon already had not been killed, because as Gael had told them, he was a member of the last known dragon riding family from Valyria and with House Targaryen becoming the royal house of a mostly united Westeros, that meant they could afford to pay a ransom for him as a prisoner. 

“Kneel for the sacred guardians of the Mother of Mountains and the Womb of the World!” 

It was rather pleasant for Gael, to see how Daemon was forced to kneel with his forehead literally slammed into the ground and held in that position with hands on the back of his head. With that arrogance of his, she knew that her nephew would never accept that sort of humble position. As far as she knew, he would barely give the needed depth of a respectful bow to Viserys outside formal events. 

“Nephew…” she started, crossing her arms as she did so, “Out of all idiotic things to do after the Stepstones in your new exile, did you really imagine that you would be able to pull off a successful conquest of a nomadic people like this, even with Caraxes?”  

Of course, the muffled sounds behind the cloth gag did not help in getting an answer to her when Daemon was allowed to raise his head, but Gael did not want to hear anything out of his mouth anymore. After years of hearing him insult and belittle others with no real punishment for it, Daemon being forced to shut up like this, was only the first step in what he would face now.  

“Whatever, I am not listening to any of your pathetic justifications for your actions. And forget about me doing anything to save you, this is something you have caused for yourself and you honestly need to learn that there are times and situations when other family members are unable to offer anything to help.” 

Turning her back on him, Gael hoped to show Daemon that she was serious about what she was telling him. Besides, she was not going to watch his punishment for attacking her. She was used to violence, yes, but there were limits to what she wanted to witness if she could avoid it. 

“Come, Safiya, we need to take care of the cadaver of Caraxes before the body begins to rot.”

The dragon skin with its scales was pretty useless as leather, and the meat was inedible, but the bones, oh the mere amount of bones in the skeleton once they had removed the head of Caraxes to use as proof of Daemon truly being a hostage of the Dothraki, that would make a high amount of bows, and hilts for daggers and swords, even sewing needles and fine jewelry to add for a dowry upon the marriage of a female relatives of a khal. 

“I get it, we need to burn the skin and meat off the bones first…” 

And then, right as the gag was removed in order to have his mouth forced opened in order to cut out his tongue as per the request of Gael earlier, Daemon had to scream out something in High Valyrian: 

“How you can be the last-born child of my grandparents, is beyond me! No true Targaryen would side with those below us, you are nothing else than a disgrace to our family name!” 

No true Targaryen. 

Those three words made Gael freeze in the middle of a step, as the memories of that failed rescue of Aemma Arryn from her unwanted marriage to Viserys broke up to the surface of her mind like a dam breaking from too much water.

No true Targaryen. 

A disgrace to our family name.

No true Targaryen. 

The blurry memories of Jaehaerys and Alysanne as she fell down into the mist, barely conscious after the injuries she received…their voices, and those words in High Valyrian which they had spoken to her right as she fell down…

“You are no true Targaryen princess for defying us like this. Your very birth as an Ice witch is a shame for our line.”

“How can I have given birth to such a disgrace of a daughter, an even bigger one than most of my other daughters?” 

Sensing how the air around her mother quickly dropped into a freezing cold one akin to the nights in the middle of winter back home at Last Hearth and how the grass around her feet turned white from frost, Safiya quickly backed away, preventing Aemma and Aziz from coming closer by stepping in front of them, just in case Gael would become violent.  

“SHUT UP!! ”

In the next moment, a wave of blood splattered the ground around Daemon, as Gael formed dragon-like claws out of ice on the fingers of her dominant left hand and violently clawed at his face with such speed that no one was prepared for it. Five wide wounds were now bleeding across his face, and his left eye had been ripped out by the ice claw, now laying among all the blood on the ground. The Targaryen Prince himself seemed to be stunned by shock at first over that she had actually wounded him like this, as he did not make a sound in pain.  

“...shut up, Daemon…” Gael said in a furious voice as she tried to not start crying from how angry she was, her eyes glowing a middle blue as a warning sign of her magic acting up, as she tried to push down the memories deep within her again, refusing to answer him in Valyrian as she responded in the Old Tounge, knowing that he had never studied the ancient language of the North or beyond the Wall, “ ...shut up, shut up, just fucking SHUT UP!! STOP SAYING THE SAME THINGS THAT I HAVE HEARD ALL MY LIFE FROM THOSE TWO YOU CALL GRANDPARENTS, ALL BECAUSE I AM A WITCH INSTEAD OF BEING A NORMAL PRINCESS!! SHUT UP!! SHUT UP!! CAN YOU NEVER LEARN TO CONTROL THAT LOOSE TONGUE OF YOURS!? JUST FUCKING SHUT UP FOR ONCE!! OR I WILL SUMMON FROSTFYRE HERE BY MAGIC RIGHT NOW AND HAVE HER EAT YOU ALIVE!!” 

Seeing how visibly upset her lover was as Cahal had to physically holding her back or Gael would likely attack Daemon again, Rahima did not hesitate in pulling out her own dagger with a hilt made from the bones of Meraxes, the dragon slain with its rider Rhaenys at Hellholt so long ago, and grabbed the jaw of Daemon, forcing his mouth wide open and, not too gently, pulled out his tongue by a pair of water-crafted pliers as she heated up the dagger in a nearly torch. 

“You heard Gael, you bastard,” Rahima hissed in her native Dornish with an murderous death glare in her hazel eyes that was almost a full green in the right light, the sort which could set things on fire if it had been possible, as she raised the dagger above her head, “Shut the hell up if you can never learn to stop insulting and belittling others. If you have nothing nice to say, then say nothing at all! ”  

Taking a quick moment to enjoy the look of honest, growing terror in his eyes as Daemon realized what was about to happen, Rahima cut out the tongue of the  dragonrider with no mercy. Now overwhelmed with pain, Daemon made the closest sound to a scream that was possible without his tongue. Much as she disliked it, Rahima used a quick water-based healing spell because Daemon would not face Death yet.  

“Mama and Auntie Gael are angry, Saya…” Aziz whispered in fear from where she was sheltering him from seeing what was happening.    

“....that man just said something about my mother which both our mothers really did not like, Aziz,” Safiya explained carefully, he was only five years old after all, and some things would be tricky to explain even if he was a smart child. Aemma, on the other hand, was more used to the sounds of battle because she was older and needed to know how to defend herself despite being blind from birth, and seemed to have almost expected something like this to happen.

“We have just begun with his punishment for trying to attack Vaes Dothrak, leave the rest to us.”    

Gael said nothing when her oldest daughter asked if she still wanted to help remove the head of Caraxes from the body, but froze the clawed-out eye of Daemon inside a piece of ice so as to keep it as proof for Viserys. 

“Remove that blood from yourself, girl, it is making you impure because you have said that he is the result of two generations of a brother and sister bedding each other,” one of the dosh khaleen said, pouring a huge jar of holy water from the Womb of the World on Gael's hand so the blood of Daemon was washed off, and her nephew was forcefully stripped of his remaining clothing before being dragged away to a stone altar for offerings to the Dothraki horse god. 

That the Dothraki viewed the Targaryens as impure, and the same with what they knew of the old Valyrian tradition of incest within the dragonriding families, had never surprised Gael with her upbringing in the North. With how important the horses were for the Dothraki way of living as nomads, preventing inbreeding to avoid sickly foals was something everyone in a khalasar had to learn from an early age.  

 ~X~X~X~X~X~X  

They ignored the indistinct cries of pain from Daemon among the voices cheering on in the Dothraki, undoubtedly as he had his testicles and cock removed in a not very gentle manner without any painkiller to become a “clean-shaved eunuch” as the result of that sort of operation was called. Crafting a giant ax out of ice was no problem, or Rahima using large pillars of water to bring it up and down over the neck of Caraxes, but it still took some effort to properly behead the dead dragon.

“How can that long neck be so hard to cut apart, thanks to the scales…ugh!” 

Still, it was good that Gael got something safe to take out her anger on, because it was clear that whatever Daemon had said in High Valyrian, it had not been something pleasant for her.

“Ugh!”

And of course, when Safiya was burning the body to leave behind only the bones, the massive bonfire created by her lava powers, caused quite an unpleasant odor as the meat and scaled skin was burned into something inedible. 

“Really! I do not think dragon meat is safe to eat for anyone outside themselves, if it smells like this for us humans!” 

If someone needed to throw up because of the horrible smell, there would be no weird thoughts about it. In fact, poor Aziz was not the only one to bid goodbye to his breakfast because the smell of burning flesh was so overwhelming. 

“The saddle for Caraxes, his temporary frozen head to avoid it rotting, Dark Sister…”

While it was rather gruesome “souvenirs” to add to the pile of proof of Daemon now being a prisoner of the Dothraki and held as a hostage for ransom, Gael did not comment when she was offered the now served cock and testicles of Daemon alongside his eye. 

“With how dense my older nephew and his elder daughter are, maybe those three body parts from Daemon may actually scare them into action.” 

She did not even intend to sound like the villain in horror stories, and yet Gael smiled in an almost creepy manner as she froze everything in a small pile for now.

After that a healing spell had been cast to prevent his death from blood loss, Daemon had been firmly whipped enough many times to leave permanent, ugly scarring on his back and chest, followed by his hands being broken by having heavy stones repeatedly dropped on them so every single bone in his hands was broken. 

“As a warrior, he will be greatly weakened in everyday behavior by having his hands permanently damaged from this as they heal, and those wounds from you lashing out on him, will result in ruining his face,” Sarkan explained to why this was being done, and Gael felt no regret over her actions.  

“He has long been asking for something like this to happen, with his lack of thought for possible consequences of his words or other actions. Has his status as a royal prince or dragonrider saved him, this time? No. This is but reality finally catching up with him, and finding out the hard way what will happen.”

Daemon was half unconscious from pain, when he could vaguely make out Gael in the crowd thanks to her Targaryen hair and pale skin. But she merely shot him a cold glare full of contempt and turned her back to him as an unspoken sign that she would not help him, her face showing no other emotion. 

“You brought this upon yourself, Daemon, and this is but one of endless results of why making a witch your sworn enemy is something to regret for the rest of one's lifespan.” 

Those unsympathetic words, said in an uncaring voice without even looking at him as she walked away from her nephew, would be the last ones ever spoken to Daemon from Gael. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X  

Once Daemon had undergone the public punishments for his actions and chained to a pillar inside a tent guarded by a lot of soldiers obeying the dosh khaleen directly to avoid that someone tried to kill him without permission, the intended celebration for this day could restart. 

“Are you really alright, Gael? You had a nasty reaction, earlier…” Jochi asked, noticing that she had entered his personal yurt and checked though the opening just to ensure that Gael was not having a mental breakdown of some sort that she did not want others to witness. 

“I am having phantom pains in my old scars from the events that happened nearly twenty-two years ago, triggered by what he said…” Gael admitted from where she was sitting in the middle of the yurt, only wearing her trousers and boots, pressing her palms against her left shoulder and the right side of her ribs while trying to not tremble too much from the memories, where she had gotten those injuries that would have killed her, alongside drowning in the mountain lake, had not Frostfyre managed to bring her to Runestone as the nearest human settlement. Sitting behind her, Rahima tried to lessen her discomfort by using warm water in a gentle manner akin to massage, Aemma and Aziz having brought some water jugs for it. 

“We will come soon and join the celebration, Father, just need to fix this first because Daemon coming and disrupting Vaes Dothrak today, is bad enough,” Safiya promised as she gave Gael a clay cup of some heated up mare milk to drink, just to give her mother something else to focus on. 

“If there is something else needed, do not hesitate to tell me. It is my responsibility as the khal and host to ensure that none of you, as my guests, are in need of something.” 

Again, this way of caring for others, was showing one of the reasons why Gael had fallen for him in the past, as he asked Sarkan to help him keep an eye on Gael in case the events of today became too much. 

“...are you scared for what sort of possible reactions there will be from the court, when they hear about what Daemon did today?” Cahal asked, wondering if this could be why Gael seemed almost numb with little emotion. 

“I have no intention to reveal myself as having been here today. With the way Daemon has been injured from his punishments, he will not be able to reveal that I was the bait to lure him into the trap the Dothraki made for him.”

By the mercy of the Gods across the known world! All she needed to do tomorrow or the following days after this rare festival that happened only every fifty years among the Dothraki, was to use the messenger mirror and ask Julia Reyne to hurry over to the capital because her magic was based in Omnilingualism, the incredibly rare ability to understand any spoken language across the known world, and act as a translator once the dosh khaleen opened up the portal in order to speak directly with Viserys. 

“Come on, even if it is just for the rest of today, I want to forget what happened this morning. This is a really rare and holy festival from a different culture than our own ones back home, that we may not live to witness again.”

Fixing her hair in a braid and redressing herself, Gael took the lead out from the yurt. 

The second part of the festival was a massive praying ceremony where offerings in the form of food, fine wine, and the traditional clothing of the dosh khaleen was gifted as sacrifice in a holy fire as way to keep the spirits of the fifty original dosh khaleen clothed and well fed in the spirit world until the next festival in fifty years. 

“It may seem as a waste to make all the work to make those clothing and then have to burn them as a religious sacrifice, but it is to avoid getting cursed by the spirits of those women. After their magical powers did awoke and they started to search each other out to avoid being found out by the Valyrians as a possible threat, they became known as holy shamans giving the Dothraki the hope of escaping a life in slavery to the dragonriders and proved themselves able of doing so.”

That was the legacy of those fifty women, and the founders of the Dothraki version of the Sisterhood in the dosh khaleen, whose magical powers as witches had saved their people. 

“We do similar offerings in the North and beyond the Wall, so it is a showing of gratitude for the risks they took, and succeeded in their goal.”

Then as a ending, a horse race was held, where the of age but still unwed daughters of various khals showed off their skills in archery and other weapons on horseback in order to show that they could defend the khalasar of their future husbands if the warriors were away in a fight, alongside a massive blessing from the current dosh khaleen to all the expecting mothers gathered here at Vaes Dothrak to birth strong and healthy children. 

Throughout the day, there was no worry about food and drink running out despite the amount of people gathered in Vaes Dothrak, for each khalasar had brought along sheep and other livestock to slaughter for the festival, along different sorts of grains to make bread and other foods like vegetables and spices outside wild herbs which they ate more rarely outside their normal cuisine of dairy products, meats and animal fats. 

“This is what I wanted to protect from Daemon when I realized that he may target the Dothraki in an attempted conquest by dragonfire just like the first Aegon and his sisters. A people and nation who escaped the dragon lords of Valyria, and just like the Rhonyar, knows the ugly side of the Valyrians. If someone like Daemon can finally have the harsh reality of his behavior coming back to strike him down, then it will show that even royalty can not escape,” Gael said mostly to herself as she watched the endless sea of men, women, children and elders around her, enjoying the sight of Safiya getting praised by several elders for her courage in helping to take Daemon physically and managing to do it as well. 

If she was born as an Ice witch to teach the Targaryen family the meaning of true humility, and that there existed magical powers that could actually threaten their dragons, then she would not question the will of the gods. If Daemon was just the first Targaryen that she had destroyed with some creative help from others, then Viserys and Rhaenyra may be next on the list. 

“I need to watch Rhaenys and her children, as well as the children of Alicent. For arrogance like this one of Daemon…will prove fatal no matter which one it appears into.” 

Had not the various Covens of the Sisterhood an unspoken agreement about preventing dangerous people from getting a position of power, where they could bring out harm and suffering towards an endless number of innocents? The needs of many will always outweigh the needs of a single person. The First Witches had awakened their powers in response to the White Walkers threatening humankind, and ruling Houses would never be sure of that the expected heir would be next to follow, if said heir or another relative did something which the Sisterhood viewed as a too great danger for the common people and therefore the troublemaker needed to be removed? Not always by death, but to be stripped of all power and exiled to a life in imprisonment, eventually forgotten by the outside world. 

“You will become known as a fallen Targaryen per the tradition of those who ended up as enemies of the Sisterhood as well non-magical people, Daemon, all thanks to your own actions and words.” 

She intended to make that happen, and honestly, he had already handed the Sisterhood the perfect toys in his horrible reputation and well-known behavior from all his life, to ruin him forever in the eyes of future generations. . 

Chapter Text

Just in case Viserys and Rhaenyra did prove that they too, could be predictable in their own manner, Gael took contact with Saera about what had happened to Daemon, though her communication mirror:  

That was, once Saera had stopped to laugh until her belly hurt over this new level of stupidity from Daemon, because losing Caraxes in that manner and still inviting himself to even worse humiliation by simply acting as he always has done, like how he had lost his tongue and been made a “clean-shaved” eunuch as it was called with both the cock and balls removed? Proving that 1) Daemon was not as clever as he liked to think, and 2) really starting to face that there indeed existed situations where his family name, skills in battle or even his beloved dragon could NOT save him from something nasty which was a result of his own actions. 

“I am repeating what I have said before, sweet sister; If it was yourself, Safiya or Aemma in trouble, I would never hesitate even for a moment to collect the money that would be needed for a ransom or the like. But Daemon? Our trouble making, the “I do as I please” and “Consequences? What are those?”-type of rogue to nephew that is so used to getting away with his actions because he is a royal prince and a dragon rider? Never. Not a single coin, not even the most worthless one.”

And that's why Gael loved her sole remaining sister. Yes, Saera could deliver some harsh truths in her words, rarely sugar coating them, but she had witnessed throughout her childhood and youth that House Targaryen were not as perfect as they preferred to appear in the eyes of others. 

“I knew that you would answer like that, Saera, but I felt that it was only fair to give you a warning if Viserys reached out and tried to use his rank as a king to…well, demand that you helped to pay this ransom for Daemon,” Gael admitted, and the older sister snorted over how the eldest son of their late brother would be so blind to reality. 

“Viserys is not my king,” Saera said in clear displeasure, “I have sworn not a single oath of loyalty to him when he became king, and I refuse to be used as a relative that can be ignored until maybe I can prove some help.” 

Of course. The Dothraki had just proved that they could bring down a dragon, and Viserys would never want to risk his precious daughter possibly becoming a prisoner as well, meaning that he would have to ransom back both his brother and preferred heiress.  

“I will wait with letting the dosh khaleen getting in touch with Viserys about the current state of Daemon as their prisoner until that Torgrim have ensured Rhea her divorce from Daemon on grounds of his infertility, as proved by anonymous witnesses, so Viserys can not request Rhea to hand over money to waste on her former husband by using their marriage…again.”

Saera howled in laughter over the mental image of what sort of confused reaction Viserys would have, upon hearing that not only had Rhea gotten a legitimate divorce from Daemon from the High Septon himself in person while visiting Oldtown, but that his brother was the main reason for their failed marriage all along, as well their lack of children. 

Well, as anyone with some common sense would also point out, there would not be children in the marriage bed if the couple did not sleep together regularly, and Rhea had refused to cause scandal and make herself the subject of nasty gossip by taking a lover and pretend that the resulting bastard actually was sired by Daemon.  

Sometimes it truly was the husband who was to blame in a bad marriage. And no, blaming everything on the wife as the one to be causing trouble was just idiotic. Because the actual world did not work as neatly and idealistically as in stories where most things were told in a black and white point of view, and trying to excuse the actions of a man by insisting that a woman was the one to blame, was something that the Sisterhood never liked to accept as explanation.   

While Gael was informing Saera about what Daemon had done and the most likely result from this new idiotic action of his, Rahima got herself busy with some healing though her water magic because even if thankfully very few had died from the dragon fire when Daemon had ordered Caraxes to attack, quite a number had gotten burn injuries and she did not question that the dosh khaleen was going to demand some form of compensation from the Targaryen royal court for this. 

“Is that scary man gone now, Cahal?” 

Aziz had not met Cahal that often, but it did help that Safiya and Aemma were at ease around the blond Free Folk warrior, though the sisters did most of the talk while keeping an eye on Aziz so he did not get lost. 

“Yes, as a prisoner held in chains, he will not be able to scare more people with his dragon, and a dead dragon is mostly dangerous by how toxic it will be when its flesh and inner organs are decaying.”  

That was why Safiya had burned the body of Caraxes with her lava powers once they had removed his head to use as proof that Daemon indeed was a prisoner of the Dothraki now, to avoid that the dragon body would reveal itself to be toxic from whatever it was inside the body that allowed dragonfire to be made, and Dothraki logically feared massive grass fires that covered a huge area because of the damage it would leave on both the steppe and wildlife 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

A few days later, King's Landing: 

Unaware of what sort of chaos that Daemon would cause again for the royal family, this time by his recently started captivity by the Dothraki, the people living in the capital of Westeros had all the attention on a bigger summer market in the fields outside the city walls. And not only that, there were different forms of enjoyment as well. 

“Prince Aegon has quite a fine singing voice, I must say!” 

“It is a psalm that he and the other choir boys are singing, and given how pious the Queen is, I am sure that he has learned the written words of the Seven-Pointed Star.” 

As part of Alicent trying to teach her children to be pious and good followers of the Faith of the Seven, she had offered Aegon and other noble boys in his age group to form a choir to sing in the castle sept, and today they were having a more public performance for the common people. 

“Hm?”

Looking up from his place beside Helaena, Aemond noticed that there were quite a number of witches flying towards the Red Keep on their broom. 

“Mother? Do you know why the witches are coming here today?” 

Of course, Alicent had no idea why, but she got a strong feeling that it may not go as planned. 

“The High Septon too?!” she exclaimed in surprise when spotting Torgrim sitting behind Aurora on her broom, realizing that it had to be something really serious if the High Septon was brought here as well. If her great-aunt was bringing the leader of the Faith of the Seven here…

“We better hurry back home and see what is going on, with both the Sisterhood and the High Septron gathering! If it is uncle Daemon causing trouble again…” Aegon said with some hesitation in case he would be proved wrong, and his mother did not disagree with that logic. 

The small council had hurried to the throne chamber upon being told that they were needed by the King as quickly as they could arrive at the throne chamber, and Rhaenyra as well, to the best of her ability with her pregnant belly. 

“Father?” 

In front of the Iron Throne, a portal was opened, but the large group of women in different ages on the other side were foreigners, dressed in a style unseen in Westeros. At the moment, fifteen-year-old Julia Reyne was speaking with them, using her magical gift of Omnilingualism to act as a translator. 

“King Viserys, my good lords, those ladies are the equivalent to the Sisterhood among the Dothraki. And I am afraid that they have some rather serious news about Prince Daemon,” Julia informed in a serious voice as she turned around, hoping that her role as a witch would make them overlook her age compared to most of the men who had gathered. And there was someone who was brave enough to mutter quietly: 

“He better not have caused trouble  again…!”    

Of course, right as a maid carefully opened the door for Alicent so she could enter, Rhaenyra had to speak in a manner that was a big no-no. 

“And what can those horse-riding barbarians claim to have for information about my uncle?” 

Julia had not translated it, but the dosh khaleen still guessed what she had said, based on their less than pleasant faces.  

“Maybe this will be proof enough.”

A different portal opened up on the roof of the chamber, and the thawed head of Caraxes was literally dumped on the floor, joined by the custom-made saddle and Dark Sister as well. 

“What?!” 

“Is that….!?”

“The Blood Wyrm?!” 

Both Viserys and Rhaenyra started in disbelief at the head, unable to fully realize the implications of this. 

“Where is my brother?” Viserys finally managed to ask, trying to not show how alarmed he truly was by the sight of the dragon head. In return, the portal shifted slightly, so they all saw Daemon, naked as the day he was born, chained up between two poles, but it was just impossible to miss that something was missing from his groin area, and he even wore a special gag that forced his mouth open, revealing that he had literally lost his tongue. 

“UNCLE!! ” Rhaenyra screamed in horror at the sight of what had happened to Daemon, then turned back to the dosh khaleen: “HOW DARE YOU?! How dare you do that to him?!”

But she was unable to sound threatening to the other women. 

“This man had the nerve to attack Dosh Vaes during one of our most holy festivals for the history of our people, and he was punished in an appropriate manner for what he tried to do. Normally, he would have been beheaded right away after losing his tongue and male parts, but since he is a member of your royal family…” 

Anyone with common sense, realized what the dosh khaleen aimed for. Daemon was now a powerless hostage, depending on his brother for getting free unless he somehow got himself killed before that.

“They will demand a hell of a ransom for him, both as one of the extremely rare dragon riders still existing among the descendants of Valyrian blood, and as a royal prince! They may not know about him being banished from Westerosi soil by the Sisterhood, and therefore…!” Tyland Lannister thought for himself, glaring over to Alicent who responded with the same worried look in her eyes. But their attention was caught by Rhaenyra saying something that really highlighted her lack of training in diplomacy for being the preferred heir of her father: 

“You will regret this once I come and BURN you all with my dragon…!” 

Only for the head witch among the dosh khaleen to brutally stop the threat with another one: 

“Our people succeeded in killing the dragon ridden by your uncle and he is now our prisoner to do with as we please. Are you truly that eager to join him in being held in chains, with words spreading about us successfully killing TWO dragons from the only known family that still rides them, and add another family member for your father to ransom out? ” 

If it was not for him wanting to draw attention to himself, Aegon would have facepalmed from where he and his siblings poked through the door to listen, because even he, at his current age, could tell that having both Daemon and Rhaenyra as prisoners of the Dothraki was something best avoided. Not that he liked his half-sister that much, but surely she could not be so stupid as to fly over to Essos and risk getting herself captured and lose Syrax in the same manner as Daemon had with Caraxes? 

“Are we honestly witnessing an example of how the Sisterhood in historical times would sometimes force an expected heir out from the succession order of a House and be replaced by a different relative because the original heir has proved themselves unsuitable for the future role as a leader? ” 

Not that Aegon honestly wanted to become King, but if this was a small foreshadowing of what sort of reign Rhaenyra would have, once she found herself crowned after the death of their father… 

And then, the attempts of setting an amount of money for the ransom which would free Daemon, naturally failed. But not the exact date that the dosh khaleen set for the Targaryens to have the money gathered, or Daemon would face a even worse fate than what he currently was undergoing: 

“The summer solstice in five years. Not a single hour later. If you can not pay that money for him…well, this will be the last time you ever see him. ” 

And the portal closed with no chance for more talk. In other words, they may have little under five years on them to get the money to summer solstice in the year 120 after the Conquest, as that day had already passed this year. 

“Corlys…” Viserys managed to say, turning his attention to the man who had wed his cousin and now was the father-in-law of his daughter. 

“No. The war over the Stepstones cost me a minor fortune, both in money and destroyed ships in the fleet from Driftmark, during these nine years that the war lasted,, and Laena had her dowry as well…” 

Getting a bad feeling about what that could be asked, Alicent managed to sneak over to Torgrim, and both went towards the door. 

“Alicent…” Viserys started, but Lyonel spoke up quickly: 

“Prince Daemon is not a relative of the Hightowers by marriage since he did not marry the Hightower lady in question, sire. And given the resulting cost of the war over the Stepstones, we can not afford to collect a certain percentage of the requested ransom, not without raising the taxes to a degree that would cause unrest among the commoners and lord Velaryon himself just confirmed that he can not give much aid in coin…” 

And then came what Tyland dreaded to hear: 

“Ser Tyland, did your twin brother not have two daughters?” 

At once, he held up his hands in protest, mentally praying that he would be successful in preventing what he could imagine to happen. 

“No, no, no and NO!! Cerelle is only THREE this summer, and Tyshara is less than half a year old!! And my brother will not accept her being married to either Prince Aegon or Aemond just to have her dowry be used for a ransom that will free Daemon!” 

“Who said that my brothers would be the ones married to your nieces, Ser?” Rhaenyra had to say aloud, and the unspoken implications of her words did not go unnoticed. 

“I am a second son with no major inheritage of my own, especially now that Jason and his dear wife Joanna have proved themselves able to have children together! And I am two years older than yourself, Princess Rhaenyra, making your sister Helaena therefore a whole twelve years younger than myself! Royal Princess or not, I can not marry a bride that is not even six years old yet….” 

In the next moment, the voice of Helaena was heard by everyone: 

“I swear to serve the Seven-who-are-One from the bottom of my heart. I swear to cast away my worldly life for the spiritual one, to live according to vows of poverty, chastity and obedience. I swear to be faithful to my Gods, and to obey the holy words in the Seven-Pointed Star. To no longer be counted as a daughter of a worldly man, I instead enter the care of a spiritual Father and Mother. ” 

Everyone stared in disbelief over what they heard. With that oath of a novice septa, spoken loudly and clearly where everyone could see her hold her tiny hands in the ones of Torgrim who knelt to come closer to her own eye level, therefore saying the oath with the High Septron himself as witness, Helaena had just ruined whatever idea Viserys may have to use her as a very young bride to try and get a part of the Lannister wealth to use as the ransom for Daemon. 

“Princess Helaena?!” 

Alicent herself had covered her mouth in shock, yet also to hide her growing pride over that her only daughter had outsmarted her father and half-sister by such a simple action as having the High Septon accept her oath in front of so many witnesses. By becoming a novice septa, Helaena had just saved herself from being used as a pawn because of something Daemon had caused. 

“I will gladly welcome you among your Hightower kin who are serving the Faith already in Oldtown, novice Helaena,” Torgrim smiled in a almost fatherly voice as he placed his own seven-rayed star necklace around her little neck as a confirmation that Helaena was now a novice of the Faith, giving neither Viserys or Rhaenyra the chance to protest that surely, it could not be a legal oath Helaena had just said. 

“My brave girl…!” 

Hugging Helaena carefully as to not spook her with a unexpected physical contact and hurrying to bring her out from the throne chamber as quickly as she could, with her sons following after while Alys carried Daeron, Alicent hid a happy smile over that her daughter would be spared from whatever marriage that had been intended for the younger princess, just because Rhaenyra was already married to Laenor and Viserys not being that willing to use his beloved eldest for political gain in the same way as the children from his second marriage. Yes, Rhaenys was his own cousin, and anyone could guess that it was not merely the massive wealth and power of Driftmark under Corlys as head of House Velaryon that had caused the marriage, but Viserys wanting to keep the dragons within the family line. 

Only when they entered the nursery and locked the door, did Aegon finally dare to ask: 

“Mother…father will still try to find wealthy families that have daughters, right? He will try and use us in a marriage game…for their dowries, just as Ser Tyland said…” 

She took a deep breath, because he spoke the honest truth. 

“He has a grandson to suggest as well if he gets really desperate for money as time draws short and the taxes are not enough to cover the ransom cost, and when Rhaenyra has given birth, it will be another prince or princess.” 

Not that Alicent could trust her kingly husband to upset his dear Rhaenyra too much by arranging betrothals for her children without her own permission. Prince Jacerys was safe in who his mother was, but not even he, as the eldest son of the preferred heir to the King, would be able to get away with the freedom of marrying whoever he wanted. 

No, with the Valyrian custom of sibling marriages successfully banned by the Faith and the Sisterhood not long after that the late King Jaehaerys had drawn his final breath, that meant all the members of the royal family would have to get a spouse from across the different noble Houses in Westeros. If the Great Houses had no family member in the right age or gender, that search would spread to their bannermen as well for a greater chance of a catch. 

“So this is how you three young ladies risk becoming linked to my sons by marriage…Sophie Reyne for Aegon, Albina Bracken for Aemond and Elina Norridge for Daeron!” 

Somehow, it was a true irony in how Daemon may succeed in ensuring a marriage match for each one of his disliked half-Hightower nephews by his actions, yet Viserys refused to use his firstborn grandson in the same manner despite everything pointing to Jacerys having a high chance to be the ruler sitting on the Iron Throne after his mother. 

“I am not sure if Rhaenyra even realizes that her failure in diplomacy today will affect her young son as well…” 

With Helaena now a novice of the Faith and people hopefully realizing that Jacerys was far too young for a betrothal despite his rank in the succession order, it would be interesting to see how the Lords and Ladies responded to Viserys offering her sons in a betrothal, with the news that it was mostly to get money to ransom back the widely disliked Daemon.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Alicent was proved right over the coming weeks. Letters by ravens came and went from the Red Keep. And literally all held the same answer about getting a daughter betrothed to the three half-Hightower princes: 

The dowry of my daughter is NOT to be wasted on Daemon

In short, those families with both daughters and a reasonable wealth gathered up over generations by being from old and powerful Houses, knew what the King planned. Yes, some were more open for a possible betrothal than others, wanting their daughter wed into the royal family, but many did not like how their daughters would only be used to free Daemon. 

“Why can no one understand how important Daemon is for the realm as a whole?!” 

Again, her pregnancy hormones caused Rhaenyra to have mood swings, and she had not enjoyed how the dosh khaleen had shown no fear of her threat to fly over to Essos and try to burn Dosh Vaes to free Daemon herself. 

“Well, we have just finished a war, and the treasury for everyone involved has taken a hit…” Laenor tried, but she was not listening: 

“Just raise the taxes until we have the requested sum collected! Surely a solution can be found there!” 

Laenor wisely withheld a comment about both of them were using quite a few luxury goods and clothing in their everyday life that only the very richest families in Westeros could afford and which could be sold for a nice sum in times of crisis if money was really needed, because he was enough familiar with Rhaenyra from before their marriage to know that she would never accept living anything less than what she was used to. 

“Oh, great, Gael and that Dornish whore is here. I bet that Alicent is bragging about how her sons will try and catch the maidens who could instead be wed to my Jacerys if he was a little older…hm?”

Suddenly, Rhaenyra found her attention caught by something other than the three women through the open window. From her angle, she did not see Safiyra, Aemma or Aziz as they spoke to the children of Alicent, But she had a very good view of Cahal who stood behind Gael as he bowed in respect for Alicent. 

“Not as massive in height or physical strength as Harwin, but still…!” 

And in that moment, Rhaenyra knew what she wanted: If she could catch that blond man in her bed, she would add another man to sire the children which Laenor could not give her. His plain clothing spoke of how he surely must be lowborn, and coming to the capital for work. 

If she could seduce him now before anything else, she could be able to sneak him onboard the next ship for Dragonstone under the claim that he was joining her household as a new guard… 

No one had found out about Harwin being the true sire of her dear Jacerys yet, not with how his dark brown hair could be blamed on his great-grandmother Jocelyn who was born in House Baratheon. Yes, the blond hair of this man was a little too golden to truly match the silver-blonde one of House Targaryen or Velaryon, but Queen Alysanne herself had gotten the honey-coloured curls and blue eyes from her own maternal grandmother Alarra Massey, esteemed as a great beauty in her generation. 

“Time to put the lessons from uncle Daemon to test again. If I could catch Harwin, then this lowborn commoner will be even easier!” 

But Rhaenyra was forgetting two important detail in her new plan: 1) namely that perhaps she honestly was NOT the type of woman that Cahal generally was attracted to, and 2) the possibility that he, despite hailing from the Free Folk and therefore a complete different culture than the south of Westeros, already knew tales about what generally happened if lowborn men and highborn ladies was caught in bed together by witnesses, especially if adultery was involved, and therefore would firmly refuse her to avoid a horrible punishment. 

Chapter Text

After that their small group left Alicent and her children, Gael warned Cahal and Rahima about that she needed to check on a important source of information which acted as her eyes and ears here among the commoners living in the capital to snap up what the common people actually thought about the royal family, despite her rarely being there outside whatever once of her nephews or Rhaenyra somehow fucked things up and said source was regrettable illiterate, though they were using the Crownlands Coven as a way to pass on oral information to Gael.   

“A possible treasure from the Valyrian Freehold, stolen from an otherwise well-hidden cave at Dragonstone of all places?!”  

Safiya managed to keep her voice down to a whisper, also using the Old Tongue to avoid someone overhearing them, but she shared the same shocked look as the others. 

“Well, given who it is that has asked me to come and take a look…” Gael admitted in an unsurprised voice, like she almost had expected this person to be able to pull off this sort of strunt at some point.  

“Right,” Rahima agreed when realizing who her lover must be talking about, I will bring the kids to our usual place to sleep when we are here.”

“I am tired of sleeping in unfamiliar beds…” Aemma muttered, not as a complaint but rather to show that she was feeling homesick for Last Hearth after being away for so long.

“I will try to stay out of trouble, especially if high-born women get involved,” Cahal promised, and neither of the two women needed to ask what he meant. For Safiya, who now was old enough to know about this too, it was a reminder of how the nobles rarely viewed commoners as fellow humans. As if they somehow could get away with doing things by using their higher status, social power or wealth. 

“That is all I ask of you until we are back home north of the Neck.” 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

As usual, Flea Bottom showed itself as a down-trodden area of town, rife with poverty and crime. A maze of twisty, unpaved alleys and cross-streets below the Street of Flour on the way down the east side of Rhaenys' Hill. As she looked around, the buildings leaned over the narrow alleys, almost touching because of the narrow space. The air filled with the stench of pigsties, stables, and tanner's sheds, mixed in with the smell of winesinks and cheap whorehouses. Gambler's dens and rat pits could also be found there, for those who wanted to waste their few coins on something else than food and other necessities of life. It was deep within Flea Bottom that Gael needed to go, using her pointy black hair as an unspoken warning to people to stay out of her way as she walked. A few spots of ice on the muddy ground also helped to keep any thick-headed thugs from trying anything funny as she passed. 

“That Gold Cloak has only himself to blame, if he follows after me without any comrades to help in danger…”

Really, did Daemon have to give the City Watch of King's Landing those tell-apart woolen cloaks that were dyed in that revealing yellow shade that was almost golden, in that single year he had spent as their Commander? How many city guards in the eleven years since then, had found themselves beaten up or even killed when entering Flea Bottom, because they stood out among the residents thanks to said cloaks? 

“Whatever, not my problem.” 

Soon, Gael arrived at the usual meeting place where she would meet this source of information, and she could hear that unfortunate fellow in the Gold Cloaks finding himself caught in a fight between some thugs who saw him as an easier target than her. 

The air inside was heavy with the scent of food being cooked in pots over a large hearth, masking it almost like a pot-shop, but not where the usual “bowl of brown” was being served.

“Welcome, Mistress Ice.”

Among the barely existing half-light coming from the nearest window, locked up with wooden boards to prevent break-ins, a man stepped out from an inner room. 

“It has been a while since last, Thief King Iah.” 

“Indeed, Mistress Gael of the North.” 

For those who saw his hair color or the eyes in the strong sunlight outside in a more open part of the city, it would have been a first instinct to label him as a dragonseed, a term to describe the bastards of Valyrian descent, usually fathered by members of House Targaryen, who lived in the islands in the Blackwater Bay. And yet Gael knew him to not be a blood relative of any kind from the wrong side of the bed sheets from either Jaehaerys, Baelon or Aemond: 

Iah was a bastard of mixed origins from around Castle Wyl in Dorne, his ash-blonde hair and bluish-grey color on his eyes was not proof of having Valyrian blood in his veins, and with being in his mid-twenties, he was far too old to be a possible bastard of Daemon, himself only one year younger than Gael, and given the history between Dorne and the Targaryens, the idea of Daemon somehow acting totally unlike his usual self and managing to sneak around the villages under castle Wyl long enough to sire a child on a village girl, was laughable. 

As for why he was known as a King of Thieves here in the capital, so far uncaptured by the city watch or other people working for the law? Simple answer, Iah knew of how little respect the Targaryen family and the royal court had for the Sisterhood, and acted as a “distraction” on the outside of the Red Keep so any spy for the Sisterhood, such as Alys Rivers, could sneak around unnoticed in the Red Keep and other places inside the royal court. After all, as Alys herself knew, the nobles barely paid any attention to her outside her role as the chief maid of Queen Alicent, and she in return could pass on information to others in that secret network of spies for the Sisterhood. 

“So, about what I wanted to show you, especially as a daughter of that dragon-riding family…we made those findings on Dragonstone, originally my gang was just there as a test of the security there, and I literally tramped through what first seemed to be a rabbit hole but quickly grew to a bigger hole as I fell though the grass. Took us half the night to empty that place and sneak back to our “borrowed” boats before dawn.” 

She did not comment about his mention of “borrowed” boats to reach Dragonstone. Unless told especially to keep a watchful eye for strangers, no one paid attention to a group of skiffs, the small sailboats used by both fisherfolk and smugglers. Besides, it was well-known that some fishers could be away for weeks and even months to try and catch as much fish as possible, to get an income for their families, and few people in the upper ranks cared about fishing boats “vanishing” for some days unless it directly affected their demand for seafood either in daily meals or for a grand feast.   

“This way, if you want.”

Iah showed Gael inside the same room that he had come from, using several lamps to let her see better, and the contents were exactly what she had secretly worried about. 

“Scrolls on dragon breeding. How to tame and use them. Different sorts of magic used in the Valyrian Freehold…”

There were items as well. Glass candles made in obsidian, swords and daggers made of Valyrian steel, coins in different metals, gem engravings, and even items made from dragon bone like bows and fine brooches. Glass items in styles like cups and bowls. Even dragon eggs that had never hatched but became fossilized over the passing of time. 

“As much as I would like to set those scrolls about the dragons on fire, the information inside them can be needed if the…Targaryen dragons are used against the Sisterhood again at some point in the future.” 

Aegon the First had set Harrenhal on fire with Balerion, not caring about the captured witches inside. And the dragons had already proved themselves able to set flying brooms on fire, causing witches to crashland to an often painful death if they could not use their magic to save themselves.

“I will bring those scrolls to the Headquarters. You can sell the rest on the black market so my idiot nephew on that ugly chair never gets his hands on those unknown treasures. But those dragon eggs can not be left around.”

Using her ice magic, Gael created a frost weathering on the eggs to literally cause them to crack and split so deeply that the eggs were left in uneven pieces. 

“As you command…what?” Iah snapped at an underling, who dashed inside the room without permission. And what the man said, alarmed Gael: 

“What the hell… DOES RHAENYRA WANT TO DO WITH CAHAL?! ” 

Iah quickly held up his hands above his head in surrender, backing away from the door without a sound as a sign of not stopping her, as Gael stormed out, leaving a trail of ice and snow behind her.  

“This will be interesting to watch, the Thief King dared to laugh once the Ice Witch was a safe distance away, “How will that thick muscle-head to Captain over the Gold Cloak react to that careless Princess paying attention to other men than himself? ” 

Really, Harwin Strong was a fool if he thought that people had not missed him being around Princess Rhaenyra whatever he had a chance on her visits to the capital. But just in case things turned ugly, Iah pulled on a long red robe, a souvenir from another raid, and climbed up on the house before starting to jump between the roofs, knowing that Harwin Strong really wanted to catch him and therefore would have hard to miss the brightly coloured robe. 

Unfortunately, said Captain of the City Watch was stupid enough to stand in the way for Gael right as she left Flea Bottom. 

“Princess Gael, I would like you to help find a thief that is calling himself the King of…”

But she really was not in the mood to deal with the secret lover of Rhaenyra who clearly was thinking with the wrong head in their forbidden relationship. 

“GET OUT OF MY WAY, DAMNED BONEHEAD!! ”  

A blast of fine ice crystals slammed Harwin into the nearest wall, and the rest of the Gold Cloaks around was forcefully dragged out of the way by bystanders so Gael could set off on her broom. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X   

True to his words, Cahal had really tried to not draw attention. He had just found some nice wood to carve something from and possibly sell for some coins if it was needed, standing at the end of the Hill of Rhaenys where the Dragonpit was found, when a shadow had fallen over him. 

“Yes?” he had first asked in his best Common Tongue as spoken below the Neck, in case it just was someone curious about his clothing that admittedly stood out a little bit from the other commoners who lived in the capital, and then tensed up at seeing that it was a noble lady, as proved by her fine clothes in rare fabrics of purple and maroon, bodice decorated with fine gemstones, her plump appearance a sign of never facing the risk of starvation ever in her life and the two escorts behind her. But it was the silver-blonde hair set up in braids and her purple eyes, that revealed her identity. 

“You are even more handsome up close.”     

Those words said in a seductive voice, originally intended as an attempt to flirt with him, the hungry look in her eyes and the touch of her hand against his face to make him look directly at her without him giving her any consent, was enough for Cahal to realize her goal. Raising to his feet, he looked Rhaenyra straight into the eyes and said plainly: 

“You are not my type of woman, Princess. And I refuse to lose my head for sharing your bed. ”

For a moment, Rhaenyra was stunned in shock and disbelief. How could the lessons of uncle Daemon fail to charm this…this lowborn peasant who did not realize who he was talking to?!

“Do you really think that you can refuse...” 

But she never got to finish the threat. The two Kingsguard members, twins Erryk and Arryk Cargyll, were caught by surprise as Cahal literally pushed Rhaenyra backwards into them as a physical show of rejecting her. 

“Hey! How dare you lay a hand on the Princess…!?” 

But Cahal had already drawn his own sword in an act of self-defense as he pushed Rhaenyra backwards, and immediately began to show why he was one of the best warriors in his clan despite only having a single sword and no steel armor. 

“Fucking mongrel….!?” 

Erryk came to quickly regret wasting time on talking, as Cahal proved why he had been able to defeat Daemon at Dosh Vaes. Yes, the steel armor offered the Kingsguard brothers better protection, but it also gave the Free Folk warrior more ways of being creative in defeating them, just by trying to slam their helmeted heads into the building that was literally standing right next to them and knock them out that way, or at least stun them long enough to escape into the crowd. 

“Do not let him escape!” 

Unfortunately, Arryk had not been as well stunned as his brother, and threw his own helmet at Cahal, calling the blond man to strumple from the blow. 

“Ow!” 

Even if Cahal recovered quite quickly, it was more than enough time for the twin knights to overman him and wrestle him down on the ground. 

“Maybe he will be more willing to respect me, if he loses the hand which pushed me…” 

“KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF MEN THAT BELONGS TO OTHER WOMEN, RHAENYRA TARGARYEN!! ” 

Suddenly, a massive snake formed out of sea water from the Blackwater Bay appeared right above the small group, its mouth opened wide as if it intended to swallow Rhaenyra whole. It was Rahima, who had been closer than Gael and just like Cahal, had realized what the Princess likely intended.  

“W…” 

Two water punches straight in the faces forced the Cargyll twins to let go of Cahal, who did not question why Rahima pretended that he was her lover as he hurried back up on his feet and took back his own sword. After all, Gael did not want the Targaryens to find out about Safiya or even that Gael was a sexually active woman instead of the “old maid” that Viserys, Daemon and Rhaenyra likely mistook her for. Better to make it seem like Rhaenyra had targeted him as the unknown lover of the Dornish Water Witch instead 

“Come on! Let's leave before she runs to her royal daddy and claims that you were the one to attack her instead of the other way around!” 

The unspoken “before Gael appears” was understood, and Cahal made no protests as Rahima dragged him up on her water snake, right before said Ice Witch showed up in the middle of the rather wet and muddy place. 

Looking very much ready to actually murder someone, kin or not, with that almost demonic look in her eyes. Cold blue eyes. 

Cahal paled even more in horror at seeing the color that her eyes had taken, because of how he had been told stories of the Others basically from birth, and Rahima knew it to be bad when her eyes had changed to that shade. Without a sound, Rahima made the snake bring them away as quickly as possible. 

“TRIAL OF TRUTH!! ”  

Instead of attacking Rhaenyra with her ice magic or even start beating up the Princess with her staff, as she was very much tempted to do, Gael forced herself to remain in control and instead used a different magic. Fine golden threads of magic came out from the heads of Rhaenyra, the Cargyll twins and Cahal, uniting into an image to show the events as they truly happened instead of someone trying to lie or claim that things did not really happen at all.

“Rhaenyra…are your future role that of a ruler over all of Westeros, or a top-class courtesan who wants to gather a secret harem of men?”

Gael's voice was full of contempt as she asked this, and Rhaenyra was looking up at her in pure horror, as if she somewhere among her own selfishness and warped world-view, seemed to realize that she may not be far from death at this very moment. In fact, it was only the visible swelling of her belly, with her unborn second child, that stopped Gael from giving her anything worse as punishment for what she had intended for Cahal.

“May every bastard born from your line become a single branch of the family tree, with no descendants left behind, neither trueborn or natural. ”   

This was an example of how a Witch could try and be creative with curses in order to avoid a possible kinslaying of some degree. By this style of wording, it was possible to say that any bastard born from the line of Rhaenyra was fated to either die young before they could marry, or live to adulthood but finding out that they were actually infertile. 

“Y-you dare to…?!” 

But Rhaenyra never got to finish whatever she had intended to say, as Iah suddenly showed up behind her and actually pulled her backwards by grabbing the heavy gold necklace with fine gemstones around the neck.

“Show some gratitude that you are not lying in the mud like a frozen corpse right now for disrespecting a Witch, high-born whore. ”

While Gael knocked the Cargyll twins back into the mud by a small snowstorm without even looking over her shoulder, Iah tore off the necklace with a dagger, which he also used to slash her bodice apart to grab some of the pearls and diamonds used to decorate it.  

“Help! Help! Robber! Murderer!” 

Normally Rhaenyra would likely have called for Syrax to set Iah on fire, but she was seriously shaked up by both the clear threat towards both Jacaerys and the unborn child in her belly because both were sired by Harwin and therefore counted as targets by the curse she had just heard, not to mention how easily Gael had dealt with the two Kingsguard members.  

“Princess Rhaenyra!”

Of course, right as Rhaenyra was shoved into the mud once Iah had grabbed what he desired, Harwin Strong had to appear and try to show off like he was some heroic knight in shining armor to save a damsel in distress. 

“See you again some day, Ser Dragon-sire! Your royal paramour has some nice fancy stuff on her, I am not the only one wanting to grab those things from her!” the Thief King laughed loudly as he used a rope and hook to jump back up on another roof, dangling the stolen necklace and bodice part in front of his face as if to taunt Harwin over being unable to prevent Rhaenyra from losing said items, before Gael swept up a miniature snow storm that covered the whole street.  

“Memory Alteration! ” 

Normally Gael hated to use spells of this sort, but she did not want Rhaenyra, Harwin or the Cargyll twins to tell Viserys that she had threatened the Crown Princess and “made a fuss over a commoner who did not show Rhaenyra the respect her rank meant!” as she could hear either Viserys, some other snobbish noble or Rhaenyra herself mutter about.

No, better to make it seem like Rhaenyra and her two Kingsguard members had been attacked on the street when leaving the Dragonpit by some ruffians who had seen the Crown Princess show herself dressed up in so much valuable and expensive items that was visible for everyone, and that Harwin had failed to protect her better as Captain as the City Watch. 

Maybe that public scolding to come, perhaps even losing his position as a result of his supposed “negligence”, would make it harder for Rhaenyra to keep meeting Harwin in secret whatever she returned to the capital if he was sent back home to Harrenhal in disgrace. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

Once they had all gathered at a safe house in Flea Bottom used by visiting Witches in disguise, far away from the main street, Gael did not hesitate in pulling Cahal close. 

“Are you alright?! Did she touch you somewhere?!” 

At hearing where Rhaenyra had been brazen enough to touch him without permission, Rahima poured up clean water in a huge bowl and added a pinch of salt into it, following the worldwide view of salt having purification and protective qualities that can help the body and spirit to heal.

“Here, it may help with some spiritually pure water to clean your face after that touch?” 

It was much welcomed, and Cahal felt really grateful that the two adult witches did not dismiss this event as “something that could never happen to a man” which sadly was not unheard of as a view. But in order to help as many people as possible, Witches in general had to be open-minded and try to see things from more than one angle, which was partly why Gael was so upset over what nearly had happened to him. Not just for their more personal relationship, but how often double-standards about both men and women could do more harm than good.   

“Bloody Targaryen wench! Acting like she can bed any random man as she pleases and daddy dearest will turn a blind eye to the fact that the resulting brat clearly IS NOT sired by the Velaryon husband she married!”  

Gael was ranting high and low about Rhaenyra and the entitled behavior of House Targaryen as she almost stormed across the room in how fast she paced back and forth, showing how upset she was over all this. 

“It is not the same, and yet I can not help but be reminded of that…of that selfish Rhaena and how she damaged Androw Farman, one of the recorded Witches in recent history who identified more as a man while growing up and was unfortunate to be used by her!” 

“Ah, yes,” Rahima agreed as Aemma and Aziz helped Safiya to bring something to drink for Cahal so he could focus on something more pleasant, “A Targaryen princess who disrespects a man “born far below her in rank” and does not care for how her treatment of him will end up backfiring in the long run.”  

Androw Farman. A male-identifying Witch, who sadly had been a unusual late bloomer in his magic to awaken, and treated as a joke by almost everyone in his life for first being born as a younger girl who came off as timid, unremarkable, and uncertain in nature compared to his older sister Elissa, known from a young age to be sharp of wit and sharper of tongue, as well being a fine singer and a skilled archer, with her greatest love being to sail, and then as the “second son of Lord Marq Farman” who ended up known as a failed squire and unable to study at Oldtown to become a maester due to having difficulties in learning how to read and write despite that his family could afford a expected good education. 

At first, the unexpected marriage between Androw and the former queen Rhaena Targaryen had seemed to work despite their age difference and the poorly-hidden fact that she clearly preferred women over men, until cracks had started to shown due to her open lack of respect towards Androw as her legally wedded spouse began to be spread among the servants and the rest of the household at Castle Dragonstone as well. 

Androw's loneliness and discontent had grown worse when his sister Elissa had fled Dragonstone, and with Rhaena accusing him to have known that his sister had planned to steal three dragon eggs with her on that escape. In fact, all surviving eyewitnesses agreed that this ill-treatment from Rhaena and the whole household on Castle Dragonstone had been the trigger of Androw awakening his unusual Poison Magic out of reaching his breaking point from being dismissed and insulted by literally almost everyone who did not think too much of him, and led to Rhaena being forced to witness the murders of her five favorite ladies before Rhaena herself and her daughter Aerea was poisoned in a way that left both paralyzed in their whole body so mother and daughter would have to be completely dependant on others taking care of them for literally everything for the rest of their life. Some people even claimed later that Aerea had tempered the Seven to to have her join her mother in a such helpless state, both because of her infamous horrible behavior to basically everyone around her and Rhaena being a awful mother to her, as a way to teach Rhaena and Aerea that their behaviors towards others had crossed a thin line and that being royalty could not protect them forever from facing consequences. 

“Master Androw is not only one reason why the Dornish did not ask about me identifying as a male too when I was younger and even removed my womb so I did not have to worry about my monthly bleeding or the risk of a pregnancy, right?” Iah asked Rahima in their native language, removing his red robe and switching the everyday tunic underneath to another disguise, temporarily revealing two scars on his upper chest which could be mistaken as memories of a knife fight at some point. But they were actually physical memories of an operation where Iah had become the closest thing to an actual male body that the Sisterhood could give him, and others like him. 

“Some people are not born in the right body to match their minds. Those people do exist, even among the Sisterhood, which is why we are always calling Androw Master instead of Mistress, to respect that he was a male soul born in the body of a woman.” 

Not caring about how she was being ignored temporarily, Gael had came to nearly the end of her rant: 

“Androw was miserable because he was never respected prior to his magic awakening, neither as the younger sister born after Elissa or as the second son of House Farman, and the Sisterhood even had to help fake his death in order to prevent Jaehaerys and Alysanne hunting him down and possibly feed him to their dragons for how Rhaena and Aerea found out the hard way just how easily it is to take a functional body for granted! ”     

Master Androw Farman had spent the rest of his natural life beyond the Wall, as a male Witch among the Free Folk, where he had became famed for his use of plant poisons to remove pests like rats from more permanent settlements like small villagers and dealing a quick death to both dangerous people and wild animals that could pose a threat to humans, like bears that awoke early from hunger during failed hibernation. Gael had actually met him more than once in his last years as she grew up at Last Hearth, before his own death from high age fifteen years ago. In fact, Androw had refused to ever return south again after being brought past the Wall to hide him in a place where no one in the south or the royal court at the Red Keep would imagine him to ever be hidden, when the Free Folk gave him  all the respect he had never gotten in the southern homeland of his birth.    

And his sister Elissa? She had gotten her face forcefully altered by magic when being found in Essos by some Dornish witches on a travel, and then dragged back home to Westeros before finding herself magically bound to become the main caretaker of Rhaena for the rest of her life, making the two women face a empty life with little meaning while Androw could live his life to the fullest as a male Witch, far away from them. 

Dressed up in his new disguise, Iah went out on the streets to once again blend in with the crowds and be impossible to spot for any Gold Cloak unless they really knew who they would be searching for. 

“Time to spread some truthful words about that the Realm's Delight is unfortunate a little too close to her despised uncle in character: Being willing to harm and use others for her own pleasure, and the King failing to teach her that we subjects is not mere lambs to scare into obedience with threats of dragonfire whatever she is unhappy about something not going as as she wants.” 

Seriously, at this rate, Queen Consort Alicent and her young children were really going to become the most popular members of the royal family for NOT being inbred Targaryens who clung to the customs of a foreign, long gone empire. The second wife of King Viserys I was already beloved for her pious nature, as a native Westerosi royal wife with no Targaryen blood in her veins at all and thus free from the taint of incest-based sibling marriages within the family, and for hailing from a family that was on good terms with the Sisterhood. 

In fact, Iah had even heard speculations that Princess Helaena could perhaps be the second Targaryen Witch after Mistress Gael thanks to her mother with House Hightower was famous for birthing Witch daughters in both the main line and side lines, or a granddaughter of Queen Alicent though her three sons now when her only daughter had joined the Faith as a novice septa. Whatever that was true or not, it showed which side of the royal family that the common people secretly preferred despite the fact that Rhaenyra was the Crown Princess and expected successor of the reigning King. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Gael remained awake long after that everyone had gone to bed, sharing the bed with Cahal so the cold touch of her ice magic could bring him the comfort of dreams about his homelands beyond the Wall. Hopefully, it would keep any nightmares about Rhaenyra away until morning when they would travel back north. 

“I am trying to give her a chance to grow up and actually mature…she is only eighteen years old, she is still learning how to be a adult woman in more ways than one way to be it…I am trying to give her a chance to prove that she can be better than her current behavior when she knows how much work it is to have a growing family of her own to be responsible for…parenthood and ruling are not that different in being responsible for others… ” the Targaryen-born Ice Witch reminded herself deep in her own thoughts so as to not wake up anyone with her mutterings, but if she was truly honest with herself? 

Gael feared that Rhaenyra would end up becoming another entitled Targaryen ruler who thought that being a dragonrider meant that no one could really challenge her power. 

If that happened…

“No. My birth as a Ice Witch in a family of people who riders fire-breathing dragons, was a omen from all the Gods here in Westeros that the Targaryen family needed to adjust to their new homeland or destroy themselves by being unable to throw away the customs of the Valyrian Freehold! If I had not been blessed with magic and revealed it for everyone while still being in the cradle…I would have joined my sisters in being dead by now, one way or another, thanks to the awful parenting from the ones who were our birth parents! ” 

Suddenly there was a faint whistle from the other end of the door. One which Gael had heard more than once in her life, and knew what it meant. Once again, Flea Bottom would prove to be the place of death for someone who dared to walk around there at night.  

“Someone is about to die?” 

No one in the Sisterhood knew why Death would warn of Their Presence with that lullaby-sounding whistle, but where some people may find it a soothing sound to hear, others would be scared out of their wits by knowing how they could not escape the end of their earthly life. 

A shout and the sound of a just-started fight just outside the house revealed what happened: 

“Get out of our territory unless you want to be gutted up like a pig and made into meat to ad into bowls of brown, fucking Gold Cloak! Do you seriously think that ANY old friend of that royal man-whore is still found here?!” 

Ah, she realized. Iah had mentioned something about still needing to thoroughly clean out whatever crazy supporters that Daemon may still have here from his short time as Lord Commander of the City Watch. Daemon had developed a dark reputation as a very unpleasant fellow in the stews and brothels in Flea Bottom, and those who had followed him had been deeply despised as well. Some of those supporters must still be in the City Watch, even now ten years after him leaving that post. 

Of course, this also woke up Cahal and Rahima, both less than pleased to be woken up at this late hour in the night, especially as the Dornish woman stomped over to the window and opened the window shutters with enough force to slam them into the wall. On instinct Safiya sat up in bed at the sound, then fell backwards again without opening her eyes when sensing that there was no danger happening.  

“Oi, you two-legged rats… BE SILENT!! People are trying to sleep here!” 

Gael froze the spinning water without a word or leaving her side of the bed closest to the wall, and Cahal showed another skill of his with a well-aimed throw of the frozen water through the small window, rewarding them with the sound of someone getting knocked out so the fight stopped, before slamming the shutters shut again, this time causing Aemma to repeat the same movements as her adopted sister without even waking up.

“And people from the south claim that the North has an unnerving silence in the least populated parts where you can travel for several days without seeing a village or other settlement…?” Gael muttered in distaste as she pulled Cahal back under the covers. 

“They have never needed to listen for the howls of a wolf pack coming closer in the distance.”  

“Ma, you and aunt Gael always get so noisy when you do that kissy kiss stuff…” a barely awake Aziz commented in a low voice, before promptly falling back into dreamland again as Rahima returned to the bed and gently shushed her son to be quiet by stroking a finger across his lips. 

Chapter Text

Once the group was back home at Last Health, Gael personally escorted Cahal back to his home village north of the Wall.  

“....I…am sorry for what nearly happened…”  

But he held up a hand to make her stop apologizing about the actions of Rhaenyra. The Free Folk warrior had known the Ice Witch long enough to know how she tended to react when she was deeply upset about something, yet unable to really bring attention to the event and demand justice because it would be dismissed as her fussing over something unimportant in the eyes of the socially powerful. 

“She would hardly be the first noble to try that sort of thing to those she views as below her, or learn that the Sisterhood will not accept nobles doing that.” 

Yet Cahal could see in her eyes, the way she crossed her arms, that Gael seriously doubted that Rhaenyra would truly learn a lesson from this. 

“I know that a single witch can not fix every problem in the world, and yet I am bothered about how this could be another part of a growing long-term disaster…”

He placed a broad on her shoulder as an unspoken sign of understanding her worries, because as the future Queen regnant, every single word, choice and action from Rhaenyra would affect not only herself but those around her. 

“Thank you for preventing things from going really bad, Gael. In the worst case scenario…my head would likely have been separated from my body for pushing Rhaenyra backwards as I did, or…what she intended to do with me.” 

Both of them shuddered at the mere thought of what could have happened. No, it was better that Rhaenyra had gotten a scare of how her being a woman, a dragonrider or royalty, would NOT save her from possibly meeting her death at the hands of a witch. 

“I really hope that she takes the warning to heart, because otherwise her reign will be a very short one and cause a lot of trouble not only for herself, but her whole family in one way or another…”

Cahal could not fault Gael for hoping so. Like rings on water after a stone or leaf broke the surface, a leader affected so many people beyond themselves that it sometimes was impossible to say how far consequences would reach. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

It was a much merrier affair at Last Hearth seven days later, as the Umber family celebrated the 16th birthday of Safiya. Her birthday had come and gone while the group had been with the Dothraki, but it was hardly the first time the Lord and Lady Umber had held a later celebration like this, because with all six children married and grandchildren spread out both in the North and in the Stormlands with Arne being the husband of Lady Hildegard Baratheon, it was to be expected that they could not be present at every birthday celebration. But now the whole direct family was there with their families, and not merely because it was the coming of age for a witch.  

“It is not that you look horrible in traditional Northern dresses, Safiya, but you honestly are one of those women who look better in male clothing, depending on what sort of fashion it is.”

Lady Tyra Umber was not joking. Her granddaughter by adoption really looked better at times when she chose to wear male clothing, partly because of her unusual muscular build, though this did not generally mean that Safiya identified herself more as a man than the female she was born as. 

“Thank you, Grandmother.”

Mostly as a joke aimed at the male servants and household guards, Safiya raised her arms up as if she would set up her long hair in a ponytail or anything, allowing the sleeves to slide down along her arms by the movement, and showed off her impressive arm strength with said movement. More than one of the present youngsters had to quickly turn around at the glare Arne sent at them, a clear warning to not try anything funny. 

“Dear, you are acting like you did every time you realized that our four girls were beginning to grow into young maidens…” Tyra warned gently, again using words to show how Gael was adopted into House Umber in all but name and therefore counted as one of their own children. 

“I do not want any of our female descendants to be noticed by someone unworthy of them!” Arne responded in an emotional voice, one that Gael knew a little too well. 

“Father…do not even think that thought…!” 

Neither the warning from her or the tossed snowball in his face did not stop Arne from gathering Gael and her two daughters in a massive bear hug, lifting all three of them from the ground. 

“Grandpaaaaa!” 

“We too! Do not just hug them!”

Of course, this sparked some jealousy in the younger Umber generations, much to the amusement of the grown-up members. 

“Put us back down, you old mammoth!” Safiya ordered, preferring to what Tyra would sometimes call her husband for his massive size. 

“Gunvor! Birger! Signe! Eskil! Aase!” Gael called to her foster siblings, “Stop laughing and get your own broods of descendants under control unless you want to spend the rest of the day indoors because of a snow storm suddenly happening in the middle of summer!”  

Gael was not making an empty threat, As a toddler, before she had gotten finer control over her magic, it had not been unusual with a snow storm suddenly appearing out of the blue around Last Hearth on an otherwise perfectly fine day.

“Alright, Arne, let the girls go now.” 

In the end, Tyra had to free her adoptive daughter and granddaughters from her husband, so they could celebrate and just enjoy the day together as a family. 

During the family meal in the Great Hall, between the nice food and the chatter of the others. Gael and Rahima heard from Hildegard about what had happened in the capital after their group had left. 

“So…Harwin Strong and the whole City Watch got the next six months of their payment cut in half for being unable to catch the “thieves who attacked the Princess” as a warning to sharpen up in doing their job properly, and the Cargyll twins in the Kingsguard had found their “poor protection” of Rhaenyra to become the reason for everyone in the Kingsguard to have MORE daily training so they can actually prove that they are the finest knights in the Six Kingdom and actually able of protecting both the King and the royal family from danger?” Rahima asked, just to double-check. 

“Correct. This whole thing is an embarrassment for the Kingsguard, and for the City Watch as well. Harwin Strong may not be the Commander, but as a captain, he is still expected to do better than this “failure” in ensuring that his men are both keeping the streets safe for law-abiding citizens and capturing criminals,” Hildegard agreed as she helped her and Harald's oldest son, five-year-old Gorm, to pour some more sauce on his plate. 

“Proves the importance of them NOT being brainless minions to the royals or even whoever the current or a former Commander is.” 

That was a jab aimed at Daemon and his one-year-long term as Commander of the City Watch of King's Landing, no doubt.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

While Harwin Strong was extremely lucky to not get fired from his position as a captain of the City Watch of King's Landing, some rumors saying that Viserys only allowed him to stay as a favor to Lord Lyonel Strong, the current Hand of the King, things also turned out unpleasant for Rhaenyra over the coming months. 

When she had given birth to her second son Lucerys Velaryon in late 115 AC, almost on the tenth anniversary of Queen Aemma Arryn's death, and naturally came to the royal court in order to present him for his royal grandfather as soon as she could manage to fly on Syrax without too much pain, there was a nasty surprise waiting for her:  

“No…tournament?” 

The words of her father echoed in her shocked mind. There would be no tournament or any other grand event held at the Red Keep to celebrate the birth of his second grandson. 

“...why?” she whispered, unable to fully have it register in her brain. 

“Is it because of the cost for the nine years long war over the Stepstones, as well the need to save money for the ransom of Prince Daemon?” Laenor asked his father-in-law, while allowing Jace to hide behind his leg due to shyness and there being so many unfamiliar people around. 

“Unfortunately yes. If I can not free my brother from his captivity, I would regret it for the rest of my life and I don't want to spend any “what-ifs” or “what could have I have done better”-thoughts when that time comes…” 

Rhaenyra smiled sweetly at her father and allowed him to hold Luke for a better look, but on the inside, she was fuming in anger. How could her precious second son NOT get the public celebration of his birth which he deserved?! He was her son, the spare to Jace as her own heir! She was the Princess of Dragonstone, the future Queen Regnant! Why did her father suddenly act like her children were not the most important children in the realm?! 

“Nyra! It is for your uncle getting freed, remember? The money spent on a tournament could be an important part of the ransom!” Laenor whispered in her ear, hoping to avoid a scene here and now in front of the whole court. 

“...of course I want my uncle back home, safe and sound…I forgot the exact sum demanded in the ransom,” she managed to force out between her lips without sounding too unlike her usual self. However, those with sharp eyes had noticed the look in her eyes. 

“ She seriously thinks that the ransom for her uncle can still be gathered without the crown having to sacrifice something in return? ” 

Again, Alicent was getting worried about how Rhaenyra had grown used to her father laying out a huge amount of money on her as his heir in the form of stuff like expensive silk fabrics from abroad, the finest imported lace from Myr, rare pearls… 

Her stepdaughter was used to at least one new gift per year from her father, and somehow Alicent could not see Lord Corlys do the same thing for his daughter-in-law, especially not when he now had two younger sons to try and leave an inheritance to. 

Thankfully, Rhaenyra soon became far more cheerful as people called for the successful marriage having two sons already and how well she had inherited the famed fertility of Queen Alysanne. 

But a few too many cups of her favorite wine, and this sort of flattery, did not prove to be a wise combination in public, especially not when Viserys was leaving temporarily for perfectly normal human body needs after a huge amount of drinking… 

“I do not plan for thirteen children, though. I would hate to outlive most of them, or have the same problems with my own daughters! Really, they should all have been shipped to the Faith or spent their lives as old maids here in the Red Keep if they were so troublesome to marry off… ”

At once, the mood suddenly changed to a more uncomfortable atmosfear, at least among Alicent and those of her allies who actually knew that it was the horrible parenting of Jaehaerys and Alysanne who had ruined the lives of their daughters. The way Rhaenyra kept disrespecting her late great-aunts, of which only Saera and Gael was still alive, was alarming in how she had been taught to view the daughters of Jaehaerys and Alysanne. Not to mention, she was indirectly insulting her late maternal grandmother Daella, who had married Rodrik Arryn and died from the difficult birth of her own mother Aemma, with those words as well. 

“She really needs to keep that loose tongue in control…” 

“That sort of careless comment will not do her any favors among the Sisterhood or the few friends of the late princesses who are still alive…”  

“May I have the honor of a dance, Princess?” 

Suddenly, Lord Boremund took hold of Rhaenyra's arm, and easily swept her along into a dance across the hall without Laenor being able to protest or the Princess herself. 

“My Lord, let go….!” 

But Boremund was so much stronger and taller than Rhaenyra, that she was unable to get free from his hands. As such, she had no choice but to follow along in the dance movements, and around them, other people were doing the same, mistaking it as the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands had felt that it was too much talk and too little action happening. 

“Do NOT speak about others with that sort of a loose tongue so carelessly in public, Princess,” Boremund whispered to her in a low voice, “It may seem like harmless words to you, especially when said like this within many ears, but they can come back and bite you in a really bad way in how they cause other people to dislike you and not finding yourself without any allies at all in the long run. Just like what your uncle found out the hard way.”

“Y-you are speaking nonsense! I just meant that if my great-grandparents had known what sort of troubles most of their daughters would bring, they should never have begotten them in the first place…” 

“Princess Daella marrying Lord Rodrik Arryn allowed you to come into existence through your late mother, Princess. Are you even realizing that, without princess Daella being born, you would never exist in the first place? Because without her birth happening, the late Queen Aemma herself would never be born. ” 

That sharp reminder of how she owed her own existence to both Princess Alyssa and Princess Daella as the mothers of her own parents, forced Rhaenyra to shut up, quite nicely actually, because Boremund doubted that she had been encouraged to think in a way like this before. 

“Kindly do not look down on other women around you or view yourself as special, Princess. Because under different circumstances, like if your father was not the King but just the oldest son of the Old King's second son, the expected lives of marriage and motherhood of other women or girls could very well be your own. ”

Boremund was not even intending to threaten Rhaenyra in any form or shape, merely giving her a warning that she needed to have female allies in her life as well. Focusing solely on male allies was a great risk of alienating other women who could perhaps even be a better choice in the longer run, because of simple details as being the regents of a underage son if her husband died, or being the heiress when both her father, brothers and any other male close relations had died a premature death for some reason. 

After all, there was far more women across Westeros who would have identified themselves in some form with the very different fates of Princess Maegelle who had been sent to the Faith, Princess Daella who had been the second wife of a widower, Princess Saera who had found her father openly calling her as a “whore” just for spending time with boys when she actually was old enough for courtship and Princess Viserra who had feared to be sold in marriage to a much older man instead of a husband much closer to her own age, rather than the dead-at-only-six-years-old Princess Daenerys, the often tactless and openly shunning-the-company-of-other-girls Alyssa and, well…

Again, no one had expected Gael, the 13th child and seventh daughter of Jaehaerys and Alysanne, the child who would normally be viewed as the least important child in a dynastic view on behalf of her gender and place in the birth order, would end up being an Ice Witch of all things.  

~X~X~X~X~X~X

But there was one person, who really had begun to wonder about something after getting a nice close look at the newest prince in the arms of his parents, and was now searching through her own memories for confirmation. No one else than Jocelyn, in fact.    

“I can buy one great-grandchild or two inheriting my black hair, unlike the silver-blonde hair in House Velaryon and Targaryen. And yet…it is the wrong shade for House Baratheon! We are known for coal-black hair, not that dark brown color on little Jacaerys! And it is the wrong shade of brown to be from Lord Rodrik Arryn, the maternal grandfather of Rhaenyra, since most of the direct line of House Arryn was brunettes in his generation and those of his children! Lady Jeyne herself has the same shade of chestnut brown hair as him!”   

While most Great Houses were known for characteristic traits, marriages between different families did not mean that those traits always showed up in the next generation. For example, if a Stark married a Tully or Lannister spouse, expecting all the resulting children to have purely Stark, Lannister or Tully appearance with nothing from the other parent was just stupid. It was far more likely that the children would have a varied amount of mixed looks from both parents.

Not to mention, something else that she had spotted today. 

“Neither House Baratheon, Velaryon or Targaryen have a pug nose or brown eyes as a common trait…Laenor have a aquiline nose from Corlys…” 

If Rhaenyra or Laenor thought that they would be able to pass off Jacaerys and Lucerys as their legal children, and somehow fool Jocelyn, who had spent most of her life married into House Targaryen and also seen her only child Rhaenys wed to Corlys Velaryon before Laena and Laenor had entered the world with pure Valyrian traits despite Jocelyn herself having a Baratheon father and being a maternal half-sister of the late King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne, they had done a massive miscalculation. 

Because by choosing Harwin Strong to sire the children that Laenor would never give her due to his homosexuality, Rhaenyra had taken a lover who had no Valyrian traits at all. 

“Oh, Lady Jocelyn.” 

Lord Lyonel Strong bowed deeply in respect for her, and he had arrived just in time for her to ask something which may not have been completely out of the blue, given the age of his heir:  

“My good Hand…you first brought your eldest to court, ten years ago, correct? And it is three years since he was one of the many possible suitors for Rhaenyra before my grandson Laenor was chosen for that role. Is it…not quite high time for Harwin to finally wed a lady of his own?” 

She did have a good point, and Lyonel knew that. Harwin had been knighted the same year as Queen Aemma Arryn had died, and with fifteen being the minimum age for that to happen…

A heir to a seat like Harrenhal remaining unwed at age 25 without any previous betrothal at all, even with his second son Larys as the spare, it would make more unflattering rumors both at court and outside it start to spread. Especially as Lyonel had already seen his two daughters being wed in those ten years. 

“I shall request his resignation from the City Watch and have him returned home to Harrenhal so he can start getting a taste of the expected duties of a lord in his own home before my passing and he ends up looking like a fool for not being familiar with his own household.”

She smiled in understanding of his growing worry about such a situation. 

“Shall I give you a list of unwed maidens and young women of good families across Westeros, perhaps? A little help could lessen the burden. I do not know how well a Northern family may react to a marriage offer for a southern suitor, for reasons such as different faiths and other possible risks of trouble in the marriage, but I can help looking for Westerlands and Vale candidates among my own ladies-in-waiting?” 

It was a welcomed offer of help, the Hand thought. Not all noble families would be at court, for different reasons such as the travel distance, being poor and similar, but Lady Jocelyn was also more familiar with the female side of the royal court and would be able to give him some hints of girls who would not be too young for Harwin but also maybe a few adult women who wanted to avoid becoming “old maids” for being unable to attract suitors for their hands in marriage. 

“Please, my lady. Help me find a suitable daughter-in-law because my own duties as the Hand take so much of my working day and Harwin is always out running on the streets with the City Watch where he is unlikely to meet a noble lady unlike on a social event like a ball or something similar where many noble families are bound to gather together. As the King himself said earlier…he will have to do those sorts of events far less than before, if Prince Daemon is to be freed with the right amount of money for his ransom.” 

“I shall ask Queen Alicent for some names among her ladies from the Reach, too, to expand the search. Someone of those ladies should be a good choice as the new Lady Strong by marriage to Ser Harwin.”

If anyone else had overheard Lyonel and Jocelyn having this conversation between them, it would be viewed as perfectly normal by other nobles for Lord Strong of Harrenhal to want his heir finally getting married before people started to wonder why Harwin remained unwed well into his late twenties. No sane Lord wanted an ill-prepared successor, least of all a firstborn son who tried to run away from one of his most important duties as the heir: Marriage and legal children of his own so the family name lived on for future generations. 

And unknown for them both, this plan to finally get Harwin returned to Harrenhal and married to a spouse of his own, would cause some trouble for future love meetings between Rhaenyra and Harwin, simply because it would raise questions if she was spotted to be flying on Syrax towards Harrenhal, and they no longer would be able to sneak around as they had done in the capital because of her often being at court.   

Chapter Text

Again, time passed. It was now in the spring months of year 116 after the Conquest, and Aegon did try to finish his homework for his lessons. 

“I should not be jealous, because not all Targaryens get a dragon when still young, but that both of the dragon eggs placed in the cradles of my nephews have hatched, is annoying…”

He was not alone with those thoughts. Aemond, young as he was, had also expressed a wish to have a dragon, and while Helaena was away as a novice septa in Oldtown, surely his sister would want to fly in the sky too? 

At least there was some comfort in that Lady Rhaenys Velaryon had been 13 years old when claiming Meleys, and great-aunt Gael had said that she may have bonded with Frostfyre as her spirit animal at age ten, but still needed two whole years to make Frostfyre enough used to the presence of humans before she even could start climbing up on her back and fasten a saddle so she could ride the Ice Dragon! 

Uncle Daemon did not kinda count as a dragonrider at this point, for while he had claimed Caraxes in the beginning of the current reign, you could not ride a dead dragon. And while Father had been the last rider of Balerion the Black Dread, that bond had lasted for less than a whole year before the famed dragon of Aegon the Conqueror had died from old age. 

“Aegon? Would you like to come out for a ride with me and your brothers?” Alicent asked, knowing that it was nice weather outside and that each one of them needed a short break from the Red Keep. She did not like to join on hunting trips, but riding on the open meadows outside the capital was fine. 

“Yes, please, mother!” 

It was a fine, far too sunny spring day to spend indoors! 

While Daeron was still only one and a half years old, far too young to even try riding a pony, a simple solution was to let him ride in front of the saddle in which Alicent or Alys was seated. 

“Mother, surely that is the shape of a dragon in the distance?” 

Pausing her horse, Alicent tried to get a better look. It was not silver, from what she could see, so that ruled out Silverwing, the dragon once ridden by Queen Alysanne. 

“I do not think that is Vermithor on a rare hunt away from Dragonstone, and it does not look like Syrax?” 

Vhagar was much bigger than that shape, Alicent knew too well despite that the ancient dragon was rarely seen in those parts of Westeros ever since Laena had moved to Braavos for her wedding and she had not been allowed to bring her dragon there. 

“Ke!” 

Suddenly, a small creature literally crash landed in front of Aegon. Clearly visible among the green grass, laid a golden-scaled dragon hatchling with pale pink wing membranes, whose tiny body gave off a serious impression of fatigue. 

“Eh? A baby dragon, here?!”

Dismounting in alarm, Aegon hurried to pick up the hatchling in his arms, causing it to cough out a small golden flame from its mouth. 

“I am no dragon expect, but that hatchling surely…can not be a newborn, or it would never be able to fly all the way from Dragonstone of all places? It is one of only two places with dragon eggs,” Alys asked in disbelief, giving words to what Alicent herself was thinking. 

“Not one of the baby dragons at Rhaenyra!” Aemond pointed out, because the baby hatchling bonded to Jacaerys had olive green scales and pale orange wing membrane, while the one bonded to Lucerys were pearlescent white with golden eyes and a golden chest. 

“You are right, Aemond. We would have known if Dreamfyre had laid a new clutch of eggs in the Dragonpit, and Rhaenyra always tells Viserys, either in letters or in person, when Syrax does the same.”

It would be weird if Lady Rhaenys Velaryon had not mentioned Meleys laying a new clutch of eggs, given that both her only daughter and oldest son had claimed dragons so far and their little brothers Addam and Alyn could almost be expected to do the same, given their Targaryen lineage though their mother Rhaenys. 

Vhagar…well, Alicent had no idea if dragons had a age when she-dragons simply grew too old to lay eggs, much like most human women stopped being fertile in their mid-to-late forties, as proved by how the remarried Dowager Queen Alyssa Velaryon had been 47 years old when having Lady Jocelyn and sadly had died in that childbirth due to her belly being cut open, because Lord Rogar Baratheon chose to save his child over his wife. 

“Sunfyre,” Aegon smiled when looking into the eyes of the dragon. 

Given that a baby dragon sadly was not a pet, Aegon could not have Sunfyre in his chambers and instead had to bring his new little friend to the Dragonpit. But Dreamfyre made happy noises when spotting what the prince held in his arms, and even spread out her wings in a way that clearly was no threat to Sunfyre, inviting Aegon to place Sunfyre next to her body. 

“Do you want to take Sunfyre under your protection until he is a little bigger, Dreamfyre?”   

As a mother herself, that was the best guess Alicent could imagine. She still was scared of touching Sunfyre, despite him being a baby dragon and no bigger than a cat, but if Dreamfyre had no problem caring for the younger dragon despite not being hatched from her own egg, well the Queen would not complain. 

“Can we show Sunfyre to Helaena tomorrow when she comes?” Aemond asked, referring to that Alicent had a magical mirror in her chambers that could be used for faster travel by magic, and Helaena had also gotten a such mirror so she could travel between Oldtown and the Red Keep if she felt homesick and wanted to be with her mother and brothers. 

“Yes,” Alicent agreed with a smile, knowing that her daughter would undoubtedly tell of Aegon and his golden-scaled dragon hatchling for everyone in the Starry Sept. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

By pure coincidence, Safiya was at Dragonmount, literally in the opposite direction of the castle named after the island, and looking around for something. 

“Where is that annoying little pest hiding this time?” 

Ever since she had started to live here to make maximum use of her lava magic, she was not surprised over sometimes literally tripping over the amount of dragon eggs found in different caves around the volcano. Some were old enough to have turned into stone with time, likely from the earliest era of Targaryen dragons living there, and possibly even from before the Fall of Valyria. 

“Good thing that I killed the Cannibal, because that golden hatchling would never have been able to blend in among the smoke or rocks!” 

The dragon commonly called Grey Ghost due to his pale grey-white scales that allowed him to blend into clouds and mist, was well known as a notably shy dragon, who avoided men and their works, and preferred to feed on fish, so he had never been a danger to that hatchling. Same with Sheepstealer, well-named for his favorite food. 

The hatchling of that golden dragon a few weeks ago on spring equinox of all times, however, had been totally unexpected. However, Safiya did not doubt that the timing must hold some special meaning. Spring equinox generally marked the end of winter, a promise of the longer days of summer. Besides, in ancient traditions, gold was the color of the sun, and silver the color of the moon. 

“Hm, as long as Rhaenyra has not heard of that little pest and sent men to try and catch it for another one of her future brats….Noelle said that she would have five sons, and with two of them already born…” 

It would not surprise Safiya if Rhaenyra secretly hoped that none of the four children of Alicent would end up being a dragonrider, just to “prove” that they were not “proper” Targaryens with a Hightower mother who had no connection at all to Valyria and the ability of taming or riding dragons. 

“Somehow I would not be surprised if that golden one had tried to fly all the way to the mainland…and gotten bonded to Aegon of all people. It is something about that golden hatchling which reminds me of him, oddly enough?” 

Hearing the roar of Vermithor in the distance, the older daughter of Gael muttered in annoyance under her breath about “needing to teach those bloody dragons to NOT think of witches as something to set on fire when flying around” and how that golden hatchling had proved to be a very good student in that lesson. Granted, a hatchling could only set a small piece of meat on fire to cook it before eating, but they still had sharp teeth to bite with and claws.  

If she could teach new generations of dragon hatchlings to actually fear witches and their magic to the point of flying away instead of breathing fire on them, the Sisterhood would not face the same problems as during the difficult years between the Fall of Valyria and the Conquest. 

“If Aemond does not get an egg to hatch, maybe he can claim one of the adult dragons instead. Same for Helaena and Daeron, better to let a new generation of riders take over.”

The news of Aegon getting his own baby dragon, actually seemed to unnerve Rhaenyra a bit when she heard about it. 

“I-it is just random luck,” she tried to explain her shock, “Not all of the children of Jaehaerys and Alysanne were dragonriders either, especially not those who never became the eventual line of succession later…”

But Laenor did not quite buy that idea about future heirs to the Iron Throne being the only Targaryens to become dragonriders. After all, Jace and Luke were not even his blood, yet their eggs had still hatched while they were babies in the cradle. And Daemon had been a second son, never to be the heir of King Viserys in the longer run. In fact, King Jaehaerys was born as the third son of his parents, meaning that he had never been the heir or the spare from start, and Alysanne had been 13 years younger than her sister Rhaena, the firstborn of their parents. 

“By that logic, neither Mother, Laena or myself would even be dragonriders, if the descendants of Prince Baelon and Princess Alyssa in their marriage union were fated to become the eventual rulers of Westeros…” 

Not that he said this aloud, because Laenor honestly did not want an argument with Rhaenyra about this supposed “only future heirs are dragonriders” idea of hers. 

In the autumn of year 116, news came from Braavos that Laena had given birth to twin daughters, Rhaena and Baela. The names of the baby girls were chosen in honor of Rhaenys and her royal bloodline, as Laena explained to her proud parents when they flew on Meleys to Braavos for a visit, and Corlys was not complaining. After all, it was Valyrian names, and sometimes a name simply was inspired by a distant relative somewhere. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

But the collection of money for the needed ransom for Daemon, went horribly slowly. Far slower than what Visenys and Rhaenyra actually were comfortable with. 

And it became extra alarming for Rhaenyra after the birth of her third son, Joffrey, in year 117 after the Conquest. Because it marked how two years had already passed and the ransom was not yet finished. 

“ At this rate, my uncle will never be freed! ” Rhaenyra ranted to Myrsaria, “I asked Laena if she could speak with the Iron Bank about this, and they have the nerve to claim that we are having financial trouble after the Stepstones and therefore are unlikely to be able to repay a loan!” 

The former dance girl thought for a bit, and then looked at a map of Lys. 

“The Iron Bank is not the only bank around. There is the Rogare Bank in Lys, owned by the family of the same surname. Descendants of Valyria, if I remember right from my time in Lys. Maybe they are willing to have a talk if you invite the head of the family, Lysandro Rogare, to be a guest?” 

Yes, Rhaenyra realized, that could work. If she appeared in Lys by flying there on Syrax, untrue rumors would start popping up and she did not want to deal with that sort of annoyance again, not after how some at court had been looking a little oddly on her sons at the last visit. 

And within a few weeks, when Laenor once again had brought the boys to visit his parents and little brothers at Driftmark, a grand ship from Lys arrived at Dragonstone. 

“It is true that words about the unfortunate circumstances of Prince Daemon have spread to the Free Cities, Princess, and whispers about how those horse-riding barbarians are demanding an almost impossible fortune for letting him go free again. So I have full sympathy for your fear about him never returning home,” Lysandro Rogare spoke as they had dinner together, allowing Rhaenyra to tell a slightly reworked version of what had happened in the throne chamber with the Dosh Khaleen, to make the Dothraki Sisterhood seem even worse than what they actually had acted or spoken. 

“Father and I are working on raising money for the ransom, but everyone insists that the taxes for the commoners can not be raised, and none of the noble families are willing to offer money either! I mean, my father-in-law needs to repair his fleet after the Stepstones, and the Lannisters are not even willing to betroth one of their daughters to my dear boys as part of the deal…” 

In fact, Rhaenyra was showing for Lysandro that no, she really had no gasp on money and likely would be even easier to fool than what he first had thought. Faking a sympathetic smile, he said: 

“It could be that they are scared of the deal not falling through in the future? Like an unfortunate childhood accident, or illness, that results in death? Or the chosen girls in question becoming a target for a plot that will… remove them as the betrothed to the future King and the second prince, and be replaced by someone else as the bride at the altar? After all, death is not the only way to prevent a marriage from happening, destroying someone's social reputation can be even more devastating for the chosen target and the belonging family.”

That, Rhaenyra had to agree to be a reasonable fear. Besides, Jace and Luke were still toddlers, and Joffrey was still a baby in arms. It would take extreme circumstances for a wedding to happen at such a young age, like when either the bride or groom was the last of their lines and really needed to have their future secured.

After some more talk, and quite a few glasses of fine wine, did Lysandro show a written contract for Rhaenyra. 

“This is just so people can not accuse me of demanding back money which I never loaned to you in the first place, Princess. A written proof can be valuable evidence of an agreement.”

Rhaenyra was not quite drunk yet, but she did not truly read through the contact before she signed with her name and sigil next to that of her guest. Or at least, not enough to notice one important detail that would mean some serious consequences for the next generation: 

In exchange for Lysandro loaning this amount of money to her so Daemon could be freed from his captivity among the Dothraki, she would have to marry off her youngest son to a daughter of Lysandro. 

And why her youngest? Simple, for the same reason as so many others knew: 

Sometimes neither the expected heir, the firstborn son, or the spare in the form of a second son, would end up becoming the future successor of a family, due to dying young from either a fatal illness or accident, or something else would happen to change the original succession. 

After all, King Jaehaerys was a good example of a younger son who found his whole life and future changed by the deaths of his older brothers. And back when the current King Viserys had been born in 77 A.C., no one ever expected him to become King after his grandfather. After all, his father Baelon was the second son, and Crown Prince Aemon and his wife Jocelyn had not quite yet found out the hard way that Rhaenys would be their only child. 

Chapter Text

Even with the borrowed amount of money from the Rogare Bank that she had managed to get her hands on, it would still take some time before the full ransom for Daemon was collected. But at least now, Rhenyra reasoned as the bank owner sailed back to Lys after his secret visit at Dragonstone, her uncle would truly be freed within the expected time limit.      

“As if I will leave my uncle to suffer and possibly even die by the hands of those barbarians who have no idea of civilization!” 

Again Rhaenyra was revealing how she held some prejudices about people who were neither dragonriders or descendants of the Valyrian Freehold, and how she did not think of how those views could become a danger to herself or those she cared for. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X  

With how the magic of the Sisterhood had changed a lot since the era of the First Witches 8 000 years ago when they had defeated the Others, and ended the Long Night, it was to be expected that some members would have more unusual magic powers. 

Among those witches, was Lilith Norridge, who could, truthfully, be said to have a mixed reputation, said to be either “blessed or cursed” depending on whatever view of the Sisterhood that the asked person had. 

Why? Because her magic was a Shadow magic, and she used it in “games” to test a person's true character and to act as a judge in order to punish wrongdoers in a way that did not always involve death but could still have life-long effects. And right now, she was dealing with a thankfully single robber knight, who had caused trouble for a nearby village. 

“Penalty Game: The Golden Rule! ” 

The command echoed, and the shadows vanished to reveal the sunny day again. Only that the adult man in front of Lilith, found out that something was not quite the same. The thug let out a panicked yell as he realized his legs wouldn't take his weight. 

“W…what did you do?” He demanded in an angry voice, not that Lilith even looked at him anymore as she turned around.

“When you learn that even the weak have a right to respect, the penalty will fade.” she told him, “Until then you'll have to work through everything without resorting to brute strength.”

Ignoring his foul language and empty promises of revenge, the preteen picked up her broom from where she had dropped it on the ground earlier and flew away, after taking his horse, weapons and sorry excuse for rather old and worn armor to be given to the villagers to do with as they pleased. 

“Good thing that Julia and Matilda could watch Elina for me alongside their own sisters…” 

Even if they would belong to different covens as adults, it was not uncommon for witch apprentices to form friendships across the borders of their homelands. And sometimes, it simply did not matter if they were a little apart in age or had different personalities. Thanks to the same type as transportation mirrors that allowed Helaena to visit her mother and brothers in the Red Keep if she ever felt homesick in the Starry Septs, there had been no problems for Julia Reyne, Matilda Bracken and Lilith Norridge to arrange a girls' day out for themselves and their sisters at Stone Hedge. 

When she arrived back to Stone Hedge, the seat of House Bracken and landed in the central courtyard, a four-year-old with similar auburn hair was running out from the keep. 

“Big sis! Big sis Lily!” Elina called in joy at seeing the nine years older sister, almost bouncing in delight over that she had returned from whatever it had been that had requested her help. 

“Hi there, little cider,” the witch apprentice smiled as she picked up her younger sister, while two older teenagers and their own sisters arrived too. Together, there was little doubt about them being related in some form to each others: 

16-year-old Julia and 11-year-old Sophie Reyne with their rich golden hair and grey eyes. 16-year-old Matilda and eight-year-old Albina Bracken with their dark brown hair and hazel eyes. And then, 13-year-old Lilith and 4-year-old Elina, reddish auburn hair and green eyes.

For some people, it may seem odd that the two sixteen-year-olds were willing to hang around their younger sisters and guests, but to be honest, they wanted to keep some connection with their birth families even after leaving to begin their training in controlling their magical powers and also teach said younger sisters that you could sometimes find friends outside your own age group. And it was not always a sign of immaturity or not having anything in common with those in your own age group if this happened, but simply a proof of shared interests and sometimes even running in the same circles, such as belonging to noble families AND the older sisters being witches with non-magical younger sisters who they still were close to, despite their respective age difference. 

“How did it go with delivering justice to that trouble-maker?” Julia asked, noticing that Elina was about to drop her hair ribbon from one of the braids and quickly helped to fasten it better, since Lilith had her hands full with holding the three-year-old in her arms. 

“If he does not want to starve to death due to needing to literally drag himself around on the ground after that I did remove his ability to walk, he better throw himself at the feet of the villagers and beg for their mercy. Just because he lost a supposed income by serving Prince Daemon when the war for the Stepstones ended two years ago, does not mean that he is allowed to harm innocents if he can not get employment with some local Lord or someone else with money.” 

Both Julia and Matilda rolled their eyes in shared annoyance. This was another indirect problem caused by the Rogue Prince, in how he had hired sellswords for that war, and clearly had NOT been thinking ahead of what may happen with those if the war ended as it did. Most of the sellswords had been dealt with by the Sisterhood since then, but a few were still causing trouble out in the countryside.

“Right…let us see how this first try in a saddle may do for Elina?” 

Sophie and Albina were already skilled horse riders for their ages, because they were also expected to know how to ride when being their current age for various social events among the nobles, but as they also had younger siblings than themselves, there was little problem for them to act as an example of how to ride in a sidesaddle. Though, of course, Elina was seated on top of a small pony, first learning to ride astride to train her balance, and Lilith leading the pony around the courtyard. 

“Will I ride like you one day?” 

The older trio of sisters smiled at the toddler, as it was an honest question. 

“I look forward to that day when we can ride together, yes. But first, you need to train on those basic steps in riding.” 

Despite being some years older than Elina, Sophie and Albina showed how having younger siblings could help with a similar-aged child who was both shy around strangers yet also was a little curious about the new people. As such, Elina did not feel like the three older girls and two young women ignored her, or just did things that she was too little for compared to them. In short it was a good girls day day for the three pairs of sisters, both with the riding and some nice music lessons with songs later indoors. 

Eyes will always be on you in one way or another

Know when to be proper and when to not be

Be mindful of what you say and how you act

Too often, actions speaks louder than words

Be careful else you become your own downfall

By the use of your own words or actions 

Do not wish for something impossible

Else you will be finding yourself with

The well-known saying that goes

Be careful what you wish for 

Because idealization and reality

Are completely different sides 

To any such spoken wish

You never know who's listening- or what.

The three witch sisters were singing this song as part of teaching their younger sisters about that every single day, basic human decency is always more important than the grand political ideas and "the greater good". Because while “the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one” did sound logical in difficult situations, it did only sound good until someone found themselves as one of the few to be sacrificed. And that was without mentioning the other sides of such an action: a deep-seated grudge resulting in hostility, resentment, or even vengeance. 

Good or bad deeds

Good or bad words

They all have consequences

Some expected, others unpredictable

Not only for yourself, but also 

For those around you and far beyond

Actions speaks louder than words   

Sure, those teachings was not always granted to always be remembered or followed, for various reasons, but Julia, Matilda and Lilith was were determined to at least try and ensure that their younger sister knew this by heart, because then said trio of younger, non-magical sisters would not be able to claim that “no one had taught them this much earlier” or at least attempted in any form. 

Lord Bracken with his wife enjoyed being good hosts to their female guests even if the Westerland sisters and Reach sisters would only stay for a couple of hours over the day. 

“So…Ser Harwin Strong is FINALLY getting married, for real?” Lilith wondered as they were preparing to return home to their respective families, helping Elina to fox the brooch on the travel cloak the four-year-old wore to further show that this had not been a day as unusual at home for her. Not that Lilith had started to play attention to boys or girls in a different manner than before, not yet at least, but she knew from gossip that Lord Strong viewed it as high time for his heir to settle down with a wife and prepare for the day he would take over as the new Lord of Harrenhal in the future. 

“Of course,” Lady Bracken confirmed and her husband nodded in agreement to her words, “It is going to look bad for his position as the heir to Harrenhal if he does not get wed soon, even with a younger brother that is a spare if something happens to him before having children! That is, even without those other rumors that have been appearing since Princess Rhaenyra presented her third son to the King at court…about Ser Harwin and Princess Rhaenyra…” 

Even with Princess Rhaenyra rarely showing her trio of sons at the royal court, of the justified grounds of their young age and the travel distance from Dragonstone even with dragons, those with sharp eyes had noticed that neither Prince Jacaerys or Prince Lucerys resembled Laenor in particular. In fact, those open suspicions that they were actually bastards, fathered by an out-of-wedlock lover who really had no Valyrian blood in his veins, was only proved stronger with little Prince Joffrey entering the world from the womb of Rhaenyra and proved to be a third example of a supposed son of Laenor yet looking nothing like him or Rhaenyra with their clear Valyrian appearance at all. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

As it was, Lord Lyonel Strong had chosen to have Harwin wed in early 118, because just like more than a few other people who noticed that the Crown Princess did spend quite a lot of time around her sworn shield rather than her lawfully wedded husband, he was beginning to fear that his son was the true father of all the sons birthed by Princess Rhaenyra so far, and dreading the most likely scenario of what would happen if this was revealed, he chose to act quickly as soon as he had found a suitable bride. 

“That childless woman is nothing compared to you, Princess. I do not care that she is my own age, she is no grand beauty in the freshness of youth”

In theory, it was a great honor to have a member of the royal family as a special guest during a grand wedding between two noble families. But Rhaenyra was very much unhappy to see her personal sworn shield be set up with a widow of all women Lord Strong could have chosen for his son. Granted, said woman was widowed after a previous marriage, and she had proved to be fertile in that marriage bed too, even if the Stranger sadly had taken her only child in the cradle due to an illness. 

“Please, do not father children on her, Harwin. Let others whisper that she is barren, or so disagreeable in character that you can not stand being around her and how that plays a role for why you are not at Harrenhal. I can not stop your father from marrying you to her, but you can still protest about the match in not having children. I would rather have the Stranger take you, than seeing her hold your baby in her arms.”

But Rhaenyra failed to think about why the saying “be careful what you wish for” was often used as a lesson by the Sisterhood in that wishes could come true in a way that often made the speaker regret that wish… 

For in this very moment, Svetlana had returned to Harrenhal, sneaking around by possessing a maid servant that none of the important guests even paid attention to, and happening to overhear what Rhaenyra and Harwin talked about, in the false belief that they had managed to escape from anyone who might have followed after them. 

“I would rather have the Stranger take you, than seeing her hold your baby in her arms? Well, dear Princess, I think that you need a little lesson in expressing such words…” Svetlana smiled a twisted smile, looking forwards to causing trouble in the very powerbase that she once had held.

The careless words of Rhaenyra came true, the very next day, during the wedding tournament. Now, everyone knew that joursts was a risky sport, and yet, no one could foretell that Harwin would get a fragment of the splintered lance of his opponent into an eye, despite wearing a helmet that should have prevented such an injury. 

“Harwin?!” 

And it was not a small fragment, either, as those who rushed over to the fallen body, realized. In fact, it was long enough to go though his very eye and enter the brain, effectively killing him from how he had landed facedown when falling off his stallion. 

“No, no, no! My son, my son! Seven-who-are-One, have mercy! Mercy for my boy!” Lyonel Strong wailed in despair and held the body in his arms when it became clear that Harwin had died in front of everyone as a witness.

“No…!” Rhaenyra whispered, her eyes wide and face pale, unable to look away from the horrible scene from where she was seated as a guest of honor, before running over to the small group, knowing that no one would question her horrified reaction of seeing her personal sworn shield die in front of her eyes like this. She could not believe what she had just seen. Her Harwin? Her strong, powerful lover? The man, whose arms she would never be held by, again? The man who had given her three lovely sons? 

But Svetlana was pleased with the outcome. Sure, the Princess may not realize that her careless words about that she would rather have Harwin be taken by the Stranger than seeing him have a child with a lawful wife, had been part of what had triggered the accident, but that did not matter. She had seen enough of the royal heir to know that Rhaenyra would cause problems for herself without thinking of possible consequences, and play Svetlana into her hands with no troubles. Besides, it was a good proof of how Wishing Magic worked with someone speaking carelessly, and how it could come true in a rather unpleasant way sooner than what one may imagine. 

Over the following months, it got revealed that no, Harwin had not slept with his bride on the wedding night, for whatever reason, and she refused to place a cuckoo in the nest by pretending that a bastard was the posthumous child of Harwin, instead packing her belongings once it became clear that there would be no new heir to House Strong from her womb and chose to accept a third marriage about a year after that Harwin died. 

And some would say that the horrible death of his son just a few months earlier did play an indirect role in how Lyonel Strong was found dead in his bed, by a heart attack, when spring went over to early summer. Not that many found it surprising, it had been a nasty shock for all the witnesses to see the heir to Harrenhal die in a tragic accident the very day after his wedding, and that Lyonel hardly was a younger man in his prime anymore. 

Leaving his second son Larys to be the new Lord of Harrenhal with his father and older brother dead, and Otto Hightower to return to the post of being Hand of the King when there was few other candidates showing up in time for Viserys to find alternatives than the father of his second wife. 

And Rhaenyra….

While she did grieve Harwin and what she had lost with his death, with Laenor doing his best to support and comfort her whatever Rhaenyra needed it, she soon returned to something else that she wanted to focus on, now with three sons to have her own line secured for the day that she would succeed Viserys: 

Freeing Daemon from the Dothraki through the huge amount of money in their ransom for him. 

And the man she trusted to bring Daemon home, back to Westeros, though an escort of his famous Velaryon fleet?

Corlys, her father-in-law. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Showing how they would spend time together as sisters and finding something which the blind sister could still enjoy despite her handicap, Safiya and Aemma enjoyed to dance together, barefoot over the soft grass outside, singing a improvised song to keep up with each other: 

While Gael would have liked to be dancing with her daughters, she had a good reason for sitting down in the shade of a huge oak and talking with Saera in the communication mirror. Saera rarely got news about events in Westeros outside trade ships and this way of contact, she did agree with Gael that judging from how different the three sons of Rhaenyra looked to their supposed father, there was little doubt that the princess must have broken her marriage vows not long after marrying Laenor and slept with a lover to have them. 

“Somehow I doubt that she must have managed to keep meeting with this man WITHOUT anyone seeing them at some point, even at Dragonstone. And everyone knows that the late Harwin Strong was her personal sworn shield,” Gael explained, and Saera nodded from her side of the hand mirror. 

“Our dear mother managed to pass off Alyssa as a legal princess without the Targaryen looks by using her own maternal grandmother and being clever enough to choose a lover whose looks were close in color to our known traits. The honey-blond hair of mother herself? From that great-grandmother of ours. The dirty-blonde hair of Alyssa, a noticeable darker shade? Could also be explained as a little more odd but still possible. But dark brown hair, pug nose and brown eyes, which neither the most recent, very much Valyrian-looking ancestors of Rhaenyra and Laenor, had? No. Even with Jocelyn passing down some Baratheon traits and the brown hair of Lord Rodrik Arryn, it still looks very weird for all three of those young boys to end up with non-Valyrian looks.”  

And it really got suspicious, when all four of the children between Viserys and Alicent still had traits from both their parents, and that little Addam and Alyn clearly had the Valyrian look despite the possibility of Rhaenys wearing a dark-haired child thanks to her Baratheon blood though Jocelyn. 

“I am afraid that their most likely status as bastards and illegal heirs to the Iron Throne may only be revealed if Rhaenyra pops out a child with a pure Valyrian look in next childbirth, and even then I doubt that Viserys will open his eyes to the truth and instead remain willfully blind to what everyone can see.”

Saera facepalmed, muttering under her breath how both their nephews from Baelon and Alyssa must have inherited the stupidity of House Targaryen to different degrees. 

“Well, Rhaenyra can only blame herself for going down in history as a fool who thought that she could get away with passing off three obvious bastards as her heirs, especially with how the paternal favoritism from Viserys is her main protection from facing more unpleasant consequences. Yes, Laenor may be drawn to his own gender, but that is still not an excuse to be so stupid as to expect that no one will question why your children look nothing like said legal husband! Especially NOT in a marriage between two families who are known for their Valyrian blood! Just look at our own kids, none of them can really be said to have pure Valyrian looks because we wanted them to be sired by different men!” 

Exactly, Gael thought for herself, recalling how the six children of Saera looked like. And despite having a Targaryen mother from a family with well-known Valyrian appearances, Safiya had ended up with more Dothraki looks, in the almost black eyes and raven-colored hair of hers, rather than having the silver-gold hair or pale lilac eyes of Gael with the copper skin color that she had inherited from Jochi, and yet the Ice witch had never really expected her biological daughter to enter the world as a miniature copy of herself thanks to the very different appearance of Jochi. Honestly, Aemma was more likely to be mistaken as a possible biological daughter of hers, if people saw Gael and her two daughters together in the distance, thanks to the pale skin, pale golden hair and blueish-grey eyes that had been common in the Free Folk tribe where Aemma had been born!   

“Yes. If now Harwin really is the father, why did that foolish girl NOT accept his courtship before Viserys arranged her to be wed to Laenor? By marrying him, no one would question the legal status of their children, or them taking after him in appearance!” 

For all their differences in personality and such, Gael and Saera were in agreement on this, proving that Rhaenyra was not quite as clever as she may fancy herself to be, or realizing how easily it was to ruin your own life through your choices. And it sure was nice to be able to badmouth the royal family with someone who fully agreed about how the Targaryen entitlement would likely backfire on Rhaenyra at some point, sooner or later.   

After all, as the saying went: Actions speak louder than words.  

“Mother! Come and dance with us!”

Hearing the call of her daughters, Gael said goodbye to Saera with a promise for a new talk within the coming future and hurried to join them out in the sun. 

Chapter Text

Early year 119 AC, The Vale of Arryn, the Eyrie: 

Camil Mallister, Lord Consort of Lady Lady Arryn, was troubled, where he was looking out through a window to watch the sun begin to sink behind the mountains. Not for something involving his own family or their household, but something else.  

“So…without Harwin alive, the Princess and Laenor are facing a difficult situation.”

As someone who was drawn to his own gender, Camil had sympathy for Laenor, as a fellow homosexual man, most likely had never slept with Rhaenyra in the needed way to beget children in their arranged marriage. However, there was a limit to said sympathy, in light of how Rhaenyra posed three obvious bastards sired by a clearly non-Valyrian lover as their sons, and how this risked to become a massive problem in the future about the succession to both the Iron Throne, which King Viserys wanted Rhaenyra to inherit after himself, and Driftmark which Laenor was the heir to, by being the oldest son of Corlys. 

“Honestly, is it that embarrassing to ask for some outside help from the Crownlands Coven about having legal children together in a slightly different method? Yes, I was awkward about it too, but no one is doubting that Ronald is the son of me and Jeyne…” 

Really, all he and Jeyne had needed to do in order to conceive Ronald in the non-traditional way, was to drink a special drink, mixed in cups with their favorite wines to mask the taste, and do some simple form of repeated physical contact for an hour or so later! It had been no problem to dance together since it had been a feast for the Vale nobility in the Eyrie that day, and even in everyday life, they did like to hold hands together as a mutual sign of trust and friendship. 

“What sort of methods do Rhaenyra and Laenor think the Sisterhood is using for helping couples who have problems getting children? Using a turkey baster to gather the seed of the man and then insert that into the woman, while she has to lay with her legs spread in the bed, so everyone can see it?”   

It took some courage because it sounded so weird, but Camil had asked about that, and gotten weird looks from the witches who had healing magic and were gifted with Midwifery magic. Not that they could disagree with how that sort of method would work to some degree, but they had far better ways that were less awkward for the couple in question, like that special drink Camil and Jeyne had used. 

“But I am not the heir or second son of my family, while Laenor is the heir of House Velaryon as the oldest son to its current Lord. It would take some … serious trouble for Lord Corlys to be justified in replacing Laenor with Addam and Alyn as his new heirs, and especially if Rhaenyra does bear a legal child of Laenor though the same way as we got Ronald…”  

Not that Camil thought that Rhaenyra would manage to get a marriage alliance though one of her three bastard sons and a possible Arryn daughter in the future. With how Princess Daella had been the second wife of the late Lord Rodrik Arryn and their daughter Aemma had been wed to her first-cousin Viserys, there was no need for a third marriage match between House Arryn and the royals. In fact, Jeyne had admitted to Camil that she felt uncomfortable at the mere thought of Rhaenyra as the mother-in-law to either Ronald or another possible child of theirs in the future, because Jeyne feared that a such marriage could easily be used to demand unquestioned support for Rhaenyra as a claimant to the Iron Throne, with their child possibly even becoming a hostage in disguise to ensure that support from House Arryn and the Vale. 

“ Rhaenyra and King Viserys take it for granted that her claim will be supported with no problems. But those who once swore those oaths, will they even be alive by the time the King himself dies? It has already been over a decade since then, and what if it takes another ten years? Fifteen years? ” 

That was a very good point about how the King had not really been thinking too clearly in that situation, actually, the passing of time. In just a few months, it would be 13 and ½ years since then, and there had been no mention of King Viserys summoning the successors or other heirs of those Lords and landed knights to the capital to swear those oaths to defend the claim of Rhaenyra over any claim from the children of Queen Alicent…    

No, he would not be thinking of this now. If Laenor wanted to be written down in history as a man who willingly allowed the supposed family nest be filled with cuckoo offspring rather than asking the Sisterhood for a way that would really ensure legal-born children to both the Iron Throne and Driftmark, then he only had himself to blame. 

After all, actions and choices like that, did not affect just oneself and those around oneself, but would spread out like rings on a water surface when something broke the calm surface. And in this case, all of Westeros risked being affected by Rhaenyra taking a lover and expecting her bastard children to be accepted as the sons of Laenor despite the boys looking nothing like their Valyrian-looking mother and supposed father.  

~X~X~X~X~X~X   

Finally, the full ransom for Daemon had been gathered and loaded on board the fleet of Velaryon ships which, under the command of Corlys, would sail towards Essos. 

“Please bring uncle Daemon back home safe and sound, Corlys. We need him to remind everyone that House Targaryen is the royal house of Westeros,” Rhaenyra pleaded to her father-in-law on the day of departure, clearly not thinking of how her words could be read as her wanting Daemon home for a completely different reason. 

“He is a dear friend of mine, Rhaenyra, I would not abandon him either.”

Now, to be fair, Corlys had become disillusioned with Daemon after how the War of the Stepstones ended up as a disaster for Westeros, and costing Corlys himself quite a number of ships in the Velaryon fleet, but Daemon was still the cousin of his wife Rhaenys and given that the following generation in the royal family was still young, Rhaenyra herself the oldest of them, there was little doubt that Daemon was still needed in some form…

As one of the two adult Targaryen males, until then the sons of Queen Alicent were legal adults. The unspoken problem of old King Jaehaerys and queen Alysanne having 13 children together and yet only had four grandchildren in the following generation, of which Viserys and Aemma had been wed, narrowing down the side lines even more to only Rhaenys who had wed Corlys and…well, Daemon had no children with Rhea Royne. In other works, the four children of Alicent were actually more needed than what Visenys may openly admit, than just as the spares to Rhaenyra as the expected heir. Even with Princess Helaena joining the Faith, her three brothers Aegon, Aemond and Daeron would still be able to offer alternative royal claims than Rhaenyra and her own children. 

And speaking of her children…

“Three children, and none of them looks like Laenor! If he can not bring himself to bed Rhaenyra as expected, then I may need to do something about ensuring that they will have the legal children they were supposed to have!” Corlys thought for himself, feeling so massively disappointed in his eldest son and daughter-in-law. Seriously, how naive was they both to think that claiming that the non-Valyrian looks of Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey could be blamed forever on Lady Jocelyn and her Baratheon blood, when many had been aware of how Rhaenyra had seemed unusual close to her sworn shield Harwin Strong? 

No, Corlys did not like the idea, but if he had to trick Rhaenyra and Laenor into drinking a conception drink which would ensure her becoming pregnant with a legal child of Laenor, so be it. 

It took months of travel. First by sailing to Myr, where a passing Dothraki khalasar became an escort for Corlys, his men and their valuable cargo. 

“Why did the dosh khaleen demand such a huge sum…”

The khal happened to overhear it, and smirked as he responded: 

“The gold in the ransom for the dragon prince will be remade into jewelry for the various wives and daughters of khals. This generation of daughters will become known as the “Dragon and Gold daughters” because of the wealth they will bring into their marriage.”

Corlys made a point of keeping quiet, having guessed a motive like this. Jewelry was often family heirlooms passed down from one generation to the next, and if it was made in the bones from Caraxes and the gold from the ransom for Daemon, then the future brides would indeed be wealthy indeed. 

Vaes Dothrak was unlike any other city Corlys had seen on his famous journeys. But he was here on a mission, not to explore. The dosh khaleen looked pleased at seeing the many caskets with gold money Lord Velaryon had brought along, and pointed to a small tent in the back.

“The one you have just made free, is in there.”

He only gave a quick bow as a sign of respect for those fearsome Dothraki witches and hurried inside the tent. This was quickly followed by a horrified shout upon seeing exactly what condition Daemon actually was in.  

“We said that we would keep him alive until that fifth summer solstice, not that he would be treated as an honored guest.” 

During the time spent in captivity, Daemon had gotten both his achilles tendons and the tendons in his wrists served, effectively making him a cripple who would never return to the skilled warrior he had once been. And now he was really ruined by the many STDs he had picked up from his brothel visits over his life. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X   

It was in the first weeks of year 120 AC, as Corlys finally could spot Dragonstone in the distance. 

“Daemon? We are nearly home now.” 

Not that the ruined prince could answer, from his bed inside the cabin. And then the roar of a dragon could be heard, which he seemed to react to.

“Hold on, that is not…?!” 

It was Sheepstealer who appeared out from the clouds above the ships, and worse, he had been attracted to the few remaining sheeps which had been brought so the crew would have some fresh meat during the long journey between Myr and Westeros. 

“Push the sheep overboard! If he sets the ship on fire–!” 

Too late. Sheepstealer was already burning the famed Sea Snake ship as he flew around it, aiming for the sheep onboard. 

“Daemon! Someone get prince Daemon!” 

But his men ended up disobeying Corlys in this order, dragging him along by his arms and pushing their captain into the water before following after him, leaving Daemon to die inside the cabin either by dragonfire or to drown as the Sea Snake sank below the surface. 

“What is the use of saving a cripple who would never show gratitude for the fact that we saved his life, captain?!” 

“Daemon!!” 

Thus, Prince Daemon Targaryen met the Stranger in a really ironic way: 

As a dragonrider, he had always been up in the sky, now he met his death in water. As a warrior, he had expected a glorious death in battle which would inspire songs and tales for future generations, not to die helpless in a bed. 

And the Stranger took the appearance of Nettles as she would look like in nine years at the age of sixteen, mocking Daemon in his last, horrible moments alive as one of the countless young girls whose virginity he had taken and shown to have a taste for. 

Chapter Text

Same day as Daemon found his death by Sheepstealer:

Normally, Aegon would have his usual lessons by this time of the day, but with Lady Hildegard Baratheon and her family visiting the court for some rather important matters in the Stormlands which the King needed to hear in person, he found a chance to ask Arne about something he had noticed in written records about the North and with great-aunt Gael still up in the North for her witch business, the Umber-born husband of Lady Baratheon seemed to be his best source of answers for now. 

“So…Sara Snow is a fictional character?” Aegon asked, after that Arne got to look though the book in question the prince had brought to explain what this was about.  

“Yeah. Never have existed. That sort of made-up person whose tales have been around for so long that some people take it for granted that she really did exist at some point.” 

Arne was actually not surprised of Aegon wondering this. Snow was the traditional surname of northern-born bastards with a noble parent, and some of the most famous “Sara Snow tales” found in various settlements across the North would claim her as a bastard of House Stark in some historical era, so a few such stories being heard by the Maesters in the Citarel and them mistaking the tale for a real event before writing it down in history records, was less weird than it seemed if one thought a little deeper. 

“Eh…you see, since it says here in the most recent record of House Stark that Lord Rickard has a daughter apart from his legal son Cregan, but it is not sure if Lady Gilliane is the mother, or someone else …” 

“You thought about this “Sara Snow” being mistaken for a legal-born daughter who Rhaenyra may ask for as a bride to Jacaerys?” Arne offered, to which the prince nodded. 

“More or less, yes. I mean, the Sisterhood and the Faith have succeeded in banning brother-sister marriages in House Targaryen, with Father and uncle Daemon being the last generation to be a fruit of such marriages, so the logic would be to see out brides from the noble families here in Westeros, and why not start with the Lord Paramounts?” 

Yeah. A marriage match between House Stark and House Targaryen, basically giving Rhaenyra a very strong supporter for her claim to the Iron Throne? 

“Good work in finding this and choosing to tell about it, my prince,” Arne said, nearly pushing Aegon forwards with a friendly pat on his back though the prince realized that it was merely because of the difference in size and strength between them, “Because Lord Stark may take offense to a marriage offer for a non-existing daughter and think that someone is making fun of how common the names Rickard and Brandon are in House Stark, as well how often a tale will portray a “Sara Snow” as the natural daughter of a Lord Stark with that name.” 

For Arne, it was just a perfect time to inform the oldest son of Queen Alicent about how to look for the bigger picture, and how misunderstandings could be spread by people simply not bothering to actually check whether something was true or not. 

“I am glad that court jester Mushroom died when the Sisterhood chose to end the War over the Stepstones with a show of their united powers,” Arne thought for himself, remembering how many had secretly disliked that sex and scandal-obsessed dwarf, “He was exactly that type of person who would write down the idea of Sara Snow being a bastard daughter of Lord Rickard, possibly claim that one of the Strong boys of Rhaenyra wed her in a secret marriage despite already being betrothed and even write down something akin to Rhaenyra reacting poorly to the truth of her three sons not being sired by Laenor, to the point of ordering Queen Alicent and Princess Helaena being sent to a brothel and forced to remain there until they are pregnant with bastards of their own…”

The mere idea of Rhaenyra allowing a such horrible treatment to her stepmother and half-sister, especially because it became more obvious for each visit to the Red Keep that her dark haired sons were NOT sired by the Valyrian-looking Laenor, were something Arne felt repulsive about. And if his wife and the other witches would hear about such a thing really happening…

He did not doubt for a moment that Rhaenyra would most likely find herself dethroned within a day and finding out the hard way that she could not always view herself as a “special case” compared to other women and hide behind Viserys to escape consequences for her actions. Normally, that sort of punishment would be the last choice of action among the Sisterhood, if there really was no other alternative left, but Arne knew a few horror tales where Rhaenyra could easily become the villain suffering a taste of their own medicine and only having themselves to blame for whatever hardships they would face. 

“You seem tired, my prince?” Arne asked upon noticing something with Aegon. 

“Slept poorly during the night. I am rather tempted to take a short nap, but I can not seem lazy or gossip will talk about it…” 

This only earned him a new pat on the back from the bear-like Northern man. 

“Nah! A growing lad like yourself needs some proper sleep, and sometimes a nap may be the very thing to avoid a bad afternoon.” 

No longer feeling ashamed over being tired, Aegon thanked Arne and went back to his own chambers. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X   

It was that dream again, he realized upon noticing where he was. 

“The Starry Sept? I wonder what I will see this time…?”

Aegon doubted that he was one of those Targaryen blessed with dragon dreams, that was more what Helaena seemed to be. But he could not shake off the feeling that this dream had to be more important than others. 

“Underestimated all this time, how stupid are they truly, to believe that I am harmless by being a “frail, simple-minded” little girl? I am a daughter of the dragon, with the blood of the Green flames in my veins! I am the heir of my father, not that boy who is the son of that woman fed to Sunfyre!”

The voice of a young girl, who sounded alarmingly bitter about something for how young she sounded. In fact, Aegon even started to run towards the source of her voice before he realized what he was doing, panic growing in his heart. 

“It is not Helaena, but someone else! Who?! And why do I feel so worried about her?!”

Suddenly, Aegon tripped over something on the floor and fell forwards. 

“What on….?!” he wondered, looking over his shoulder to see what he had tripped over, and suddenly wished that he had not. Two small bodies, some years apart in age. One was…

Beheaded. 

“An eye for an eye. A son for a son.”

Why did he hear the voice of Daemon, of all people, right now?! Like his bloody uncle was involved in having that boy murdered despite his age?!

“NOOOOO!!! JAEHAERYS!!!” 

The voice of…Helaena?!

And the smaller one…

Wounds all over the tiny body, like he had been beaten to death by a violent mob. 

But the worst to see for Aegon was the purple eyes and Targaryen silver-blond hair on them both, revealing them to be of the royal family. What seemed to be a older Daeron, who looked up from the smaller body, and said in a furious voice which promised no mercy: 

“You shall receive the same terms you gave my nephew Maelor.”

Jaehaerys…Maelor…

And then the scene changed, to an all-too-familiar bedchamber and its window  in Maegor's Holdfast. In front of the open window, was a Targaryen-looking girl, no older than ten at the most, her throat being picked by the sword trip from a man dressed in the white armor of the Kingsguard. 

“You are in the way for my half-brother Unwin Peake, to see his own daughter Myrielle, married to the King and become his queen instead. Jump by your own move, brat, or I will push you out.”

In response, she dropped her doll on the floor. A brown-haired doll with the Hightower sigil on its green dress, which Aegon knew to belong to Helaena at this very moment. A doll inspired by the looks of their mother Alicent, to ease her homesickness during her first months as an novice septa in the Starry Sept.

“You intend for me to die a horrible death, just like my mother Helaena, by being impaled on the spikes of the dry moat below, and unlike her, I may not be lucky enough to die at the landing, Ser Merwyn Flowers. This is all because I am the daughter of Aegon II and granddaughter of queen Alicent Hightower, right? Just like my brothers Jaehaerys and Maelor were murdered to wipe out to avoid their claims being a threat to Rhaenyra and her line, I am the last one left of the Targaryen-Hightower bloodline. If I die…my cousin the king, my husband, will be free to marry either Miss Myrielle Peake or anyone else of his choice. ” 

“Shut up and die already!”

And with terror filling his whole body as the girl was shoved backwards by the man, Aegon rushed forwards, trying to grab hold of her before she fell out though the window…  

“JAEHAERA!!” 

Aegon made himself wake up by his own screaming. 

“ JAEHAERA!!! ” 

He could feel himself covered in sweat as his heart kept beating, grasping for breath as he tried to control his feelings of terror and fear. But his focus was not on the ceiling or anything else in the bedchamber. It was the faces of the three children from the dream. 

His children, in a world where he had married Helaena as per the Valyrian custom of sibling marriage and they had those three children together. A daughter, Jaehaera, and two sons, Jaehaerys and Maelor. And they had all been murdered at a young age because of their claims to the Iron Throne, by being his heirs.

“No…no…this can not be what is fated to happen…!”

Mistress Noelle had once told Aegon that the future was not fully set in stone as some people tended to believe, that sometimes a single different choice of acting was the very thing to start a complete new future. And while Aegon and Helaena did not have to think about getting married to each others when they were older due to the Sisterhood and the Faith successfully forbidding any more sibling marriages in House Targaryen or Viserys would not be crowned in a legal ceremony by the High Septon himself, as well that Helaena now was a novice septa, Aegon did not doubt for a moment that this horrible dream may have been a omen of some sort. 

That maybe Jaehaera, if there now existed alternative versions of people in other worlds, had tried to spiritually reach out to anyone who had been a beloved family member during her last moments of life, to not feel utterly alone, and he had been the one to accidentally be the one to “answer” her pleas. 

“Unwin Peake….Mervyn Flowers! Even if that version Jaehaera may never be born to me and whatever wife I will marry in the future because her mother was Helaena, I swear to NOT let you two escape some form of punishment for her death! Why don't you two being the ones to fall down to a such horrible death instead?!” 

Outside his window, a bolt of thunder flashed as the rainy weather outside changed into a winter storm and he heard the roar of Sunfyre somewhere out there. And despite the distance to Oldtown where the Starry Sept was, Dreamfyre reacted to the horror and despair Helaena felt over having the same nightmare as Aegon about her children in an alternate reality where they had died in such horrible ways. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

As it happened, the two men in question were at court, and had been caught by the sudden change in the weather when being out on the drawbridge between Maegor's Holdfast and the rest of the Red Keep. 

“Ugh! Better get back indoors!” 

Like many other ambitious Lords in the Six Kingdoms, Unwin Peake knew that though the Sisterhood and Faith teaming up to forbid sibling marriages in the royal family, House Targaryen had no choice but to accept brides or bridegrooms from native Westerosi families. And with the birth of his daughter Myrielle a couple of months ago, he saw a possible chance to see her wed into the royal family at some point. With Princess Helaena being a novice septa in Oldtown, this left the various princes to pick out as the royal bridegroom, and like many others, Unwin was not fooled by Rhaenyra claiming that her three brown-haired sons truly were the sons of Laenor. 

“Better to choose one of the three sons of Queen Alicent, because everyone can see how they are the legitimate sons of the King with an even mix of how both the King and Queen look like.”

His half-brother Mervyn was one of the few he had told his plans to, so far, because Unwin knew that he hardly was the only Lord at court to desire a scenario where a daughter was wed into the royal family and he would need to do quite a lot of less than honest works behind the scenes to ensure that Myrelle was not overshadowed by any possible rivals. That Myrielle would be younger than any chosen groom, was not a problem either for Unwin. All she needed to do was to remain alive and healthy until she started to have her monthly bleeding as a sign of becoming a maiden, fertile but untouched by any man in the way that marked a married woman from a maiden. 

“Uh…brother, is that one of the dragons?!”

Indeed, it was Sunfyre appearing in front of them, the lighting revealing his golden scales. And on the opposite side, was Dreamfyre, blocking them from escaping the smaller dragon. In short, they were trapped on the drawbridge. 

“Bloody lizards! Shoo!” 

But neither Sunfyre or Dreamfyre moved. Instead, both dragons opened their mouths, and the half-brothers had to duck for the flames or they would be roasted alive. 

“Prince Aegon, stop that golden dragon of yours!”

But no one was outside in this weather, and no one of the common castle guards was nearby either. Instead, Unwin and Mevyn were pushed to the sides of the drawbridge as they desperately tried to avoid getting burned by the dragon flames, both knowing that if they fell down, the dry moat with its bed of formable iron spikes would be their death. 

“Help…Anyone! Stop them!”

And then Sunfire literally smacked Unwin over the edge with his tail, Dreamfyre doing the same with Mevyn, both men falling down with the knowledge that this was truly the moment of their deaths unless a miracle happened. 

“Nooooooo!!” 

As both of them fell down, terror filling their minds over what was happening with nothing to stop it, an apparition of Jaehaera from the other dimension appeared in front of them with an innocent smile on her face that only terrified them both even more. 

“You wanted Myrielle to be queen? Sadly, that will never happen with so many other maidens to be alternative choices to her, my good Hand and Kingsguard member. Enjoy what it means to not have a quick and painless death.” 

These were the last words, apart from their own terrified screams and the roars of the two dragons, which Unwin and Mervyn heard before they got impaled on the iron spikes. 

They would only be found in the morning after the storm had vanished, and officially, their deaths would be deemed an accident, by slipping on the wet stones of the drawbridge as they were pushed around by the powerful winds, perhaps one brother falling over the edge and the other trying to catch him before both found out that their united body weight as either Unwin or Mervyn tried to pull up the other brother back to safely, were the very thing to doom them both. 

Sadly, the death of Unwin also came to happen nearly at the same time as his toddler son Titus was accidentally killed by a spooked horse kicking him in the head as the young boy ran behind it, and with no other sons having survived their infanthood or young childhood yet, little Myrielle Peake became the heiress of her father despite her tender age, with her widowed mother as regent for her sole surviving child. 

And while he had to hide a twisted pleasure over how Unwin and Mervyn had died in a such way, Aegon hoped that if this event would allow Jaehaera, or whatever child to “replace” her as his daughter in this world, to grow to adulthood without the risk of being murdered at a young age, he would do his best to protect her and whatever children to “replace” Jaehaerys and Maelor as well.

“ But you three shall not be forgotten! Jaehaera, Jaehaerys, Maelor! I will name my first daughter and two older sons after you three, and ensure their survival! They may not be kings or a queen consort, but they will live! Even if I must pay my own life as the price to ensure that! ”

Aegon knew better than swearing an oath which would be impossible to hold true, but he refused to let that nightmare become true and his children being fated for death at a young age. 

Chapter Text

Of course, once the news of Daemon dying for real, and meeting his end in an ironic way of being unable to escape dragonfire from Sheepstealer and drowning thanks to that very same inability to escape, was spread across all over Westeros, very few people actually mourned him. 

“Finally, he is gone!”   

“No more troubles caused by that arrogant fool!”  

“About time that he learned that being royalty or a dragonrider was not gonna keep him free from reality forever!” 

In fact, it was a wide-spread celebration of Daemon facing a not very peaceful way of dying, because in a sense, he had been asking for it to happen to him since…well, a long time. 

At the Red Keep, Viserys was the only one in the royal family to really mourn his brother. Alicent had never liked her brother-in-law, and Daemon had not exactly been a nice uncle to her children either. So while Helaena only did a basic prayer for the Seven to make a appropriate judgment for his actions during life upon the soul of the dead prince at Starry Sept because she had never really met Daemon at all sans during the tourney for celebrating the fifth anniversary of the wedding of Viserys and Alicent and hardly anything at all during the following six months before Daemon was exiled by Viserys for deflowering Rhaenyra, and neither Aegon or Aemond cared at all about the brother of their father. Daeron had never met said uncle either, and thus could not be expected to feel sad over someone he had never known. 

“So…the future you saw about my sons before I married, may have been one where Daemon was still alive and…well, not showing a good example of what a younger Targaryen sibling may do?” Alicent asked Noelle, who she had invited for some herbal tea and belonging cakes over a more private talk in her chamber.

“Most likely, I am afraid. Daemon may not have sired any children, but even if he did have bastards, he hardly was the type to take any form of responsibility for them, even if they were born to noble mothers whose families would have been very upset about their daughters carrying the out of wedlock offspring of a married man who have already shown that he is willing to slander his own legal wife for not liking her as a person. Which hardly would help Aegon in that future to understand that he can not just sleep around and ignore the following results. And as a fellow second son, Daemon would not be a good role model for Aemond either.”

No, Alicent shuddered at the mere thoughts of her two older sons becoming like that. Noelle had mentioned before that sometimes, a single different choice of acting was the very thing to start a complete new future, and right now, she felt very sure that his time spent as a prisoner of the Dothraki and now dying, was two such major things to change the future. 

“I hope that this will lead to a more promising future for all four of my children. Because I want them to be happy.” 

And somehow, Alicent was not surprised to see the door open at those words, to reveal Mistress Aurora Hightower entering the chamber like she owned it. Even the old woman sitting down next to her on an empty chair, and then took one of the remaining cakes from the plate to eat as a snack before speaking: 

“Even if Aegon does not become King, dear great-niece, Princess Rhaenyra can not just disown her younger half-siblings upon taking the Iron Throne, or toss you out from the Red Keep. Or if your sons marry, expect us Hightowers or the families of their wíves to be ones giving them an income or a home to call their own. Disliking each other or not due to the favoritism of the king and his other poor choices related to his family, you are still family and she can not do things on a whim because that is what Viserys allows her while still being alive.” 

Aurora was speaking similar to her own thoughts. Alicent had rarely needed to explain herself to the witch aunt of her father and uncle, which was one thing about Aurora she had liked from a young age. Pouring up some herbal tea for Aurora, Alicent asked: 

“Am I selfish for desiring a seat for each of my sons, to call their own homes if they do not become King and the following heirs? Prince Baelon was the second son of King Jaehaerys, but he never got a seat to call his own while his elder brother, Crown prince Aemon, got Dragonstone.”

Aurora raised an eyebrow as she held the steaming cup to her mouth. After drinking some of the tea, she gave a expected answer: 

“No, you are not. If Rhaenyra tries to do something stupid again on a whim, use the Widow’s Law to prevent her from tossing you out, or stripping away your income as the widow of her father. Besides, earlier generations in House Targaryen have done a very poor job at preparing for a scenario where they have more than two sons in each generation.” 

Aurora had a point. Aegon the Conqueror had two sons, Aenys and Maegor. Aenys in turn had three sons, Aegon the Uncrowned, the first known Targaryen Prince named Viserys, and the eventual Jaehaerys I who had only become king because both his older brothers had faced death thanks to their uncle Maegor. Jaehaerys, in turn, had six sons among the thirteen children he and his sister Alysanne had together: premature-born Aegon who had only lived for three days, Aemon who had lived to age 37, Baelon who had lived to age 44, the still alive Vaegon who now was archmaester of the Citadel, Gaemon who had lived for less than three months, and finally Vaerion who had died a fortnight before his first birthday. 

Even if three sons had died in the cradle, Aemon had been the heir and Baelon the spare, meaning that Jaehaerys should have prepared a seat somewhere for his younger male descendants who were low in the succession order. Only the death of Aemon had made Baelon the new heir, and the current King Viserys I should have gotten a seat to call his own if his uncle had never died, as well Daemon who had been the second son of Baelon, because Viserys had been fifteen years old and Daemon eleven when Aemon died. 

But King Viserys I sadly did not seem to realize this scenario, that the descendants of Aegon, Aemond and Daeron logically would not be able to live in the Red Keep alongside those of Rhaenyra as the generations passed on. 

“I am conflicted about wanting to witness Rhaenyra to be the first Queen Regnant of a united Westeros, and tradition with the oldest son being the heir,” Alicent admitted to her great-aunt, who could see the problem.  

“It IS a tricky situation, yes. Either Rhaenyra realizes herself that she is risking her position if she keeps acting as she does now, or she will find herself replaced by Aegon if she does not sharpen up. If not by Viserys, then the Sisterhood will do that.” 

But Aurora agreed that Alicent must have a good instinct about how the coming burial of prince Daemon at Dragonstone Island would be a possible place to show whatever Rhaenyra understood this self-causing loss of her position as the preferred heir of the King or not. Alicent may not have magic, but she still had a good gut feeling about good or bad things happening soon. 

“Oh, by the way, my queen,” Noelle smiled as she refilled her tea cup, “Your three future daughters-in-law are coming to court today with their older witch sisters. Go and have your boys get a nice first meeting with their eventual brides without Rhaenyra or Viserys ruining that meeting for the three pairs.” 

Royal wives did not run in public unless absolutely needed, it was not proper, but right now Alicent did care about that. She needed to check where her sons were, and hoped that they had not been too busy at the training field to the point of making themselves dusty and muddy. On the other hand…maybe that first impression would help Sophie, Abina and Elina to look past their royalty and instead see the boys as fellow humans. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X      

In the North: 

Gael was, unsurprisingly, not among those who mourned Daemon. Instead, she told Saera about those news in the family, and her older sister agreed that their nephew had been asking for trouble and faced a death which hardly would be what he likely had been wanting. 

“He was a male Alyssa to the very core of his being, and I am not saying it as a compliment.” 

As the older sister by 13 years, Saera had been far more familiar with Alyssa, and therefore able to spot similarities between her and Daemon before Gael had gained more worldly experience that came with growing up. And after leaving Westeros forever, Saera had gotten even more insight into how their oldest surviving sister would not fade well with time, had Alyssa lived for longer than her 24 years of life. 

“If we were to remove her being allowed to be the only sister to be a dragonrider, take a sharp look at how she shunned the company of other girls and preferred to ride, climb and duel with wooden swords over more lady-like activities…She was raised to believe her entire existence was to birth sons for Baelon, and she had no purpose other than that. I seriously doubt that Alyssa would successfully manage to actually live a life which was not connected to being the eventual wife of her own brother.”

Gael could not deny that most of their sisters had been lucky, when one thought about it. Yes, Daella had once been intended to marry Vaegon, but he had successfully made that sibling marriage so unlikely to happen that he had literally handed Daella the chance of marrying outside the family on a silver platter. Saera knew that Braxton Beesbury had been serious about getting her hand in marriage and Viserra…well, Gael did not doubt that the younger Theomore Manderly would have made her happy in their marriage, if Viserra had not broken her neck in that nightly horse race which had ended in tragedy. 

“Not to be mean towards other women who are not so lady-like as many would prefer, but that thing about Alyssa saying that she is “not like other girls” and openly rejecting their company as well refusing to learn lady-like skills she may actually need, if Baelon was made Hand of the King much sooner and she was the third most important woman at court after our mother as the queen consort and Jocelyn as the wife to the crown prince, aka Aemon? If that is not asking for trouble further down in her life, and possibly ruining her chances of finding a decent husband among the noble families in a scenario where she was not marrying Baelon, I do not know…” Gael muttered loud enough to be heard though the communication mirror, to which Saera snapped in annoyance not aimed at her: 

“I can not stand anyone, be they male or female, saying those four damned words. I simply can not view “not like other girls” as anything else than a thinly veiled insult aimed at girls and women of all kinds, plain and simple, because it is a double-edged sword. Beginning with the fact that this “compliment” relies on diminishing the rest of the female population. It tells the receiver her gender is bad, but since she is different from the rest, she is good. It gives off the impression to the girl or woman in question that “other girls” are inferior or boring, and she has to avoid becoming like that, at any cost, no matter if it may ruin herself in the long run to keep up that image. Were Maegelle “boring” for actually enjoying her life as a septa without knowing another future of marriage and children? No. Was Daella “inferior” for her learning disability, and secret suffocation under the burden of Father viewing her as useless for anything and Mother treating her as if Daella was more fragile than what she actually was? No. Were any of us other princesses “boring” compared to wild, secretly bully-of-her-own-gender Alyssa because none of us had a dragon? No. Are we, the normal princesses with no magic, inferior or boring compared to you, Gael, who was blessed by the gods themselves to become the first Targaryen witch? No. Not every man in the world likes the same type of woman, and different cultures have different views on what counts as femininity. Perhaps there are cultures out there, where Alyssa would be viewed as an ideal woman, and at the same time, there are others where she would be the one rejected by others for refusing to learn acceptable lady-like activities, and not out of them thinking of her as weird but simply for not having anything in common with them and thus making it harder for Alyssa to actually find a honest connection with other women.” 

Yes. Gael could not imagine Alyssa successfully surviving in a Free Folk surrounding, despite the oldest surviving daughter of Jaehaerys and Alysanne having some traits which were found to be attractive in spear-wives. No, the likelihood of Alyssa disrespecting customs she had no actual idea of, and pissing off the wrong people one time too many if she acted just like Daemon, was quite high in that scenario. She would also have struggled in the Dothraki way of living, because a woman who refused to learn how to sew and how to embroider different types of cloth as decoration, was seen as disrespecting her female ancestors who worked so hard with needle and thread to make those patterns on clothing and other cloth, and even invented new patterns or develop new techniques for sewing a motif. Because it was the mother and her other female relatives teaching a girl how to sew, unless she learned from someone else. 

“....going by what I and my working girls have been told by travelers and merchants from Yi Ti, the imperial harem would be like Alyssa's worst nightmare come true: Even if she somehow managed to pass though the tests for choosing concubines despite her personality and how she was allowed to act by mother compared to us younger sisters, she would have hundreds, if not even thousands, of rivals with the same goal of gain the Emperor's attention alongside his affection, keep both of those, and hopefully give birth to a son who will become the next Emperor after his father,” Saera said, regaining the attention of her sister, “And that is without her knowing what sort of different fates may happen to concubines: If she fails to gain the attention of the Emperor, she may be bestowed to a military officer or someone else in his service. The consorts and concubines can't leave the inner court at all for a certain number of years if the Emperor doesn't visit them, and even then they have to rely on his goodwill and their families arranging a good marriage for them in order to be released from their position and return to the outside world, and if the concubine is a former maid servant who managed to change her status from a servant to a low-ranking concubine by the Emperor noticing her…well, if she was actually sold by her family to the palace as a indentured servant, she and her birth family really would have no right connections to leave the harem at all. And yet, is that marriage to another man a really a worse fate than the alternative: Any court lady or maid servant the Emperor takes as his concubine is not allowed to leave the inner court, where the harem is placed, meaning that they are trapped there for life even as he tires of them. There are times when the concubines may be given away to vassals, or married off to other countries, but only if they are of high enough status from birth. In some dynasties, there even existed a custom for the chosen concubines to follow their Emperor into the afterlife upon his death, willingly or not.” 

Yes. Going by what was known of her personality, Alyssa would have hated to find herself imprisoned within the inner court for life, unable to ever see the lands outside its guarded walls again, by finding out the hard way that it was the price for the Emperor noticing her and sleeping with her, thus making Alyssa chained for life to her status as a imperial concubine. If she entered a that sort of place as a 15-year-old maiden, naive about its reality beyond the concubines being expected to bear children for the Emperor, Alyssa possibly killing herself at age 24, after spending nine years finding out the ugly sides of the imperial harem and realizing that she risked to literally fade into the background, never to make anything meaningful impact in history beyond the record of her birth family and finding out that her younger sisters had more meaningful lives as married wives and mothers outside the inner court, was quite a reality Gael would imagine.  

“Even if I had been visited by the Emperor before losing his affection and having no child from his nightly visits, I would rather have the Emperor gift me to someone else for as a reward for good service to the country, than wasting away in a place I was unable to leave again because of being deflowered by the ruler,” Gael admitted, again showing that she was quite a realist and tried to find something positive even in a scenario where a such alternative self of her would not be in a position to become mother of a future Emperor or to a imperial princess. 

“Good logic. Because which fate would be worse, in the long run? Trapped in the inner court for life and only leaving it upon death, or having a chance of having children with a different man? Alyssa would have some real difficulty to accept that she was not divinely chosen to be Empress by marriage or the mother of a future Emperor, and being gifted to a bureaucrat when she could have been the most powerful woman in the country by being the Empress by marriage, or mother to the following emperor and raising to be the Dowager Empress.”

Both Gael and Saera had no trouble in imagining what Jaehaerys may have done if the Targaryens had been a noble family in Yi Ti. He would have sent all of his daughters to the imperial harem as soon as each of them reached the minimum age for entering, all to increase the chance of becoming the maternal grandfather of a prince who was the future Emperor and gain influence though the daughter who became the mother of that prince. Given that Alyssa was twenty years older than Gael, Saera could even imagine that her oldest surviving sister and her youngest sister may even enter the harems of two different Emperors, and even that Jaehaerys would have tried the same with their nieces Rhaenys and Aemma Arryn, if that Yi Ti version of Rodrik Arryn had not prevented his father-in-law from dragging his fifth, youngest child into the plot of becoming the maternal relatives of a possible Emperor. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X   

Until Aemond and Daeron claimed dragons of their own, Aegon tried to ride on horses with them as a way to not rub in their faces that he had Sunfyre. Besides, he could not stop doing this sort of traditional riding all the time for flying on his dragon in the future.  

“Well done, Daeron! A good race!” Aemond called as they allowed their youngest brother to win over them on his smaller pony.

“Yes, you were faster than us this time.” 

And in that moment, something golden flashed by in the corner of his eye, making Aegon slow down his own horse for a better look. If it was Sunfyre flying around, he needed to make the dragon not stay here and scare the horses. 

But it was not Sunfyre. It was a light-blue dressed girl his own age, with rich honey-blonde hair in a shade that reminded a lot of the scales on Sunfyre in the sunlight. Next to her, was a girl with dark brown hair and the red stallion of House Bracken carefully embroidered on her darker blue dress. Finally a slightly smaller, auburn-haired girl on a pony, with three older, young women riding on horses behind the younger trio, each of them a almost ideal mirror image of the younger girls, but having three black topped hats resting their upper backs as a sign of being witches. 

Being busy laughing together over something, Sophie Reyne, Albina Bracken and Elina Norridge was mere moments away from meeting the three Targaryen-Hightower princes, whose futures they would change by how the Faith of the Seven and the Sisterhood had successfully made Prince Baelon and Princess Alyssa Targaryen the last brother-sister marriage in the royal family or King Viserys I would not be crowned at all as the successor of his paternal grandfather Jaehaerys I. 

“Like the scales of Sunfyre…” Aegon whispered in awe as he could not look away from Sophie, while Aemond finally noticed that his older brother had not come after him and Daeron. 

“New race!” Daeron suddenly called, “New race!” 

Taking the lead due to his two brothers being caught by surprise, Daeron galloped past the six ladies, and Elina naturally wanted to join. 

“A race!” 

“Oh no…” Aemond groaned slightly under his breath as it was now two young children galloping on their ponies. 

“Hey! Do not ride away like that!” 

Just because Elina was not their blood sibling or another sort of relative they were watching, did not mean that Sophie and Albina would let the smaller girl risk coming to harm if something happened. 

“You two!” Sophie ordered the two princes without really paying attention to who they may be on a closer look, “Take the left side! We take the right!” 

As the two pairs of older children galloped to get closer to Daeron and Elina, Aemond noticed that Albina gave off the very-hard-to-miss impression of being born in the saddle and had been taught how to ride before she learned to walk. Well, House Bracken was well-known for their horse breeding in the Riverlands and beyond, so it made sense for a daughter of that family to be a good rider for her age group. 

“She is good!” He thought for himself with an impressed smile on his lips, since Albina was giving him a better challenge in this horse race than the other noble boys at court when having their riding lessons as part of learning how to be fighting as a knight. 

As for Sophie, she also showed that she knew how to ride well, even in a sidesaddle. Aegon, in turn, was impressed by how elegant she kept herself in the saddle, back straight and all that, even with Sunfyre suddenly showing up from the sky and flying alongside the group of young humans. In fact, it was a grace strongly reminding him of Alicent, and likely would show itself again if she was walking or dancing.  

Daeron and Elina just had fun trying to outride each other, even as Albina and Aegon managed to grab hold of the reins to the ponies and everyone slowed down to a trot, then to a walk without anyone falling out of the saddle. 

“You ladies ride very well,” Aemond spoke, as the three witches came riding as well, and even Aurora flying on her broom to see this meeting. 

“Thank you. It is easier to avoid something bad happening to ourselves or the horses when we are many,” Sophie said, before noticing the color of the dragon flying in a circle around them and then looking back at the brothers as realization dawned on her face. 

“Aegon, Aemond, Daeron,” Aurora smiled at her trio of royal great-grandnephews,”say hello to the Misses Sophie Reyne, Albina Bracken and Elina Norridge. They are the younger sisters to all three of the young women I am proud to call my fellow witches, Mistress Julia Reyne, Mistress Matilda Bracken and Mistress Lilith Norridge.”

As a clue, the three older sisters arrived in the group.

“....ullo…” Daeron said in a small voice, suddenly shy among the female strangers. The three teenagers and their younger sisters nodded a greeting in return, because they could not exactly do a curtsy to show respect to the princes while they were still in the saddle. Up this close, Aegon and Aemond noticed how the eyes of Sophie were a stunning pale grey, while Albina had hazel eyes and Elina a green color on her eyes. Aegon even blushed slightly at the imagination of how this world's version of his three children Jaehaera, Jaehaerys and Maelor may look like if they had those grey eyes and blonde hair or the dark brown hair of Alicent instead of the Targaryen looks from that nightmare where he had realized who had been in another dimension. 

“That golden dragon is Sunfyre, right?” Sophie asked, breaking the ice between the youngsters and allowing them to have something not so awkward to talk about as they rode back to the capital. But Aurora was pleased, tonight would be good for Alicent. 

Chapter Text

Late evening, the Starry Sept, Oldtown: 

High Septon Torgrim smiled at seeing Helaena walk past him with a big, honest smile on her face. She always smiled like this when she had been visiting her mother and brothers in the Red Keep though that portal mirror, so she must have been having dinner with them today. 

“You seem to be in a very good mood, novice Helaena. Is there a reason why?”

“My brothers have found some very nice ladies their own age today!” she said, in a neutral manner which would not reveal the girls as possible future betrothals or anything serious, just sounding like Aegon, Aemond and Daeron did not avoid the noble daughters in their own age group. 

“That is nice to hear about the princes, indeed. I hope that an honest friendship will be started, one which can last for a lifetime.”

The way Helaena made a little spin in joy as she went back to the septas who were teaching her the ways of the Seven, secretly made Torgrim a little sad to see, because it reminded him of how childhood innocence would not always remain. 

“May you be blessed with a far longer life than what most of your great-aunts got to have, little princess.”  

Out of all the seven princesses born as the daughters of King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne, only Saera and Gael remained alive as of this year. Saera would turn 53 years in just a couple of weeks, while Gael would turn 40 years old on the second-last day of the fifth month of the year. It was really an irony that instead of the clear favorites among the royal children, crown prince Aemon, the spare Baelon and oldest surviving princess Alyssa, the golden trio in that generation, it was the fifth and ninth princesses who had been effectively disowned by their father for different reasons, to be the ones to outlive him alongside his third and least favorite son Vaegon.  

Up in the sky, away from any human eye, Dreamfyre and Sunfyre were flying around together in the first steps of a mating dance. Yes, the golden dragon bonded to Aegon was still very young, but not so young as to not have reached enough maturity to breed. And just because Haelena and Aegon would not marry each other in this world, it did not stop their dragons from having offspring together. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X    

A few days later, as many from the royal court was gathering to be witnesses to the burial of Daemon: 

Aziz Uller knew that he was not supposed to walk, or even climb for that matter, alone on the volcano because of the wild dragons and the risks of the dangerous gasses here. His mother Rahima, aunt Gael and older sister-in-all-but-surname Safiya had said it. Even Aemma, with her congenital blindness, was not allowed to walk anyhow here. 

And yet, he had now managed to get himself back near the entrance to an semi-hidden cave, softly singing parts of a Dornish lullaby to let the dragon inside knowing that it was him who came close: 

A daughter of the Sun

Of desert sand and air 

She sits as Queen upon 

her throne of red sandstone 

A golden crown of gold

set upon her head

Her twin sister, fair daughter 

of the silver Moon

She dances in the nights

visible against the dark sky 

A shining crown of silver

set upon her head

Their vast halls filled with the 

lights of sun, star and moon 

The dragon commonly known as Grey Ghost, raised his wings slightly and hissed at the sound of the lullaby as well the human footsteps, but did nothing else. There was a reason for why Aziz was here, despite the risks of something bad happening if the dragon got spooked: 

Namely, that Grey Ghost had somehow gotten a hind leg tangled into the semi-rotted rope to an anchor while hunting for fish in the waters around a shipwreck, and the weight of the iron anchor not allowing the pale grey-white dragon to flight with the ease he normally had. And Aziz was worried about the rope somehow cutting into the flesh of the hind leg too, risking a wound which could cause an infection inside the body which not even a dragon may be able to survive.     

“Here is for you.”

Backing away after placing down the fishes between them, Grey Ghost relaxed slightly at smelling food. Aziz was not that good at fishing himself, because Hellbolt was in the middle of the Dornish desert, so he had to use his own allowance for buying fresh fish from the fishermen in the village below Dragonstone castle. A few had commented on his appearance and Dornish accent, but most ignored him because sailors from Driftmark and other places to deliver goods to the island by trade was a perfectly normal sight here, especially as Laenor Velaryon was the husband of the Crown princess and no one found it odd that Corlys and Rhaenys Velaryon sent suppliers to their son and daughter-in-law. 

“Ok…just one last tangle to cut….” 

Gael and Rahima may not be married, but Aziz saw the Ice witch as a second mother and therefore had never questioned why he had gotten a dagger made with a tooth from Frostfyre. 

“Stand still, please…” 

He was nervous about this last part of the rope around the hind leg, because it was literally next to the scaled skin on Grey Ghost and he feared to accidently cut the dragon if he had to use more force. 

“Easy, boy, easy, please….yes!” 

The anchor was too heavy for Aziz to catch by himself, so he did not fault Grey Ghost for getting spooked at the resulting echo when it landed on the stone ground without warning. Knowing that he could not stay in the cave if the dragon chose to breathe fire, Aziz hurried outside. 

“Stay away from shipwrecks in the future, alright?! Not everyone is gonna have the patience to feed you free food over several days if you gets tangled up like that again!” 

He had to return to the other side of the island before anyone noticed that he was gone again. The witchers here had not gathered to be guests at the royal burial, but rather to test what magical power the young girl named Nettles had. 

At the same time, Aemma was using her defense magic to block a dragon flame from Silverwing. The silver-coloured she-dragon was relatively docile and friendly to strangers, but thanks to being used by Alysanne not only to exterminate the Ironborn culture, but also for attacking Gael so many years ago, Silverwing had come to associate witches as a threat. 

“Confused over how I was able to block your flames? I will show you more than just this.” 

She did not lower her barrier around herself as she spun around her staff, showing how growing up around Frostfyre had proved useful for something like this. 

“ This is not everything I can do. ”

Twisting her shield, she sent the flames back at Silverwing. 

“I will teach you to not merely obey House Targaryen as a mount for them! You will fear the Sisterhood when I am done with you.” 

Aemma knew that if she succeeded in this, it would really be a sort of revenge against Jaehaerys and Alysanne for Gael, by her own adoptive daughter of the Free Folk being able to bend a dragon to her command. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X     

Aemond knew that this may be his best chance to claim one of the adult dragons living on Dragonstone. His older half-sister never invited her stepmother and them to be guests at the island, so the second son of Alicent had to act now, even if it meant causing trouble during the burial of Daemon. Thankfully, no one expected the royal children or their same-aged peers to stay up well into the night, for the banquet held in the honor of Daemon.

“I bet that most of the court is only here on the orders of Father, who wanted to send off his brother in something more matching for his royal status…” 

Not that Aemond went all alone, several hours later in the wee hours just before dawn. In fact, Aegon came along, and to their surprise, Sophie Reyne and Albina Bracken had sneaked out of their beds too. 

“If something happens, we may need to get the adults or someone else to help,” Albina explained, holding up a bag with a first-aid kit she had gotten from her sister on her latest birthday. 

“I do not know if you should climb the sides of the volcano with….” Aegon started, only for the two girls to remove the mantles around their bodies and reveal that they had pants as well leather boots underneath.  

“Ww are not gonna climb in dresses, silly,” Sophie teased him, her smirk causing Aegon to almost blush.

“Alright, come on! We can not waste more time here!”

Sunfyre made a happy squeak at smelling Aegon as the group sneaked past the guards, and Aegon got an idea on how to avoid being seen by anyone. Opening a bag of various roasted meats he and Aemond had taken from the banquet, Aegon tossed two of the bigger ones past his brother.  

“Sunfyre, catch! Here is for you too, Dreamfyre!” 

The smell of the piece of roasted meat landing in front of the golden dragon naturally attracted Arrax, the dragon of Lucerys, as well Vermax, the dragon of Jacaerys, though Sunfyre quickly chased them away from his treat with a powerful blast of dragonfire, as well Dreamfyre not wanting them to steal what she had gotten. 

As far as the guards would see it, the dragons had simply gotten in a fight over something not seen with human eyes, and all attention from the nearest guards fell on them for the next hour or so.

As the four preteens climbed alongside the volcano and tried to find a lair for the dragons, using torches for seeing in the weak light of dawn and the morning mist, Aemond admitted his doubts that he would be able to claim the Cannibal, even if the black dragon had not been seen for quite some time now. Grey Ghost was well-known for being shy and avoiding humans, and Sheepstealer was last seen just yesterday on Driftmark when lady Rhaenys had arrived from there by flying on Meleys. 

“So I am going to try both Silverwing and Vermithor, in case one rejects me. With Lady Laena still alive, Vhagar is out of question for a new rider to claim her and Seasmoke is bonded to Laenor.”

Logical to try the two dragons who had been ridden by humans first and therefore would be used to humans being near them, Aegon agreed, and then see if they could come close to Grey Ghost or Sheepstealer if they were on the island. 

They found the lair of Vemithor first, and Aemond asked the other three to stay at the entrance, just in case the male dragon chased him out with dragon fire. 

“Good luck, brother. I would join you in there, but I do think he would be confused about which one of us to claim him, or that I am smelling of Sunfyre from earlier today.”

“Thank you,” Aemond said, taking one torch with him inside the lair. Around them, an echo of a song could be heard. 

“Is that the Old Tongue?” Aegon asked, “I am not familiar with it outside from hearing Gael saying some words, so I am not sure of which language this is?”

Sophie listened, recalling how Julia would sound like when she used her magic to speak with foreigners in their native tongue. 

“Yes…I think? It says…”

Let those who are worthy

Prove that all can claim

Dragons without having

Valyrian blood in them

Let the House Targaryen

See the errors of their

Belief that they alone 

Can be dragonriders  

It was actually Nettles who sang this song despite not knowing the Old Tongue too well, as she activated her magical power to speak with animals, petting Sheepstealer on the snort as she climbed up on his back. 

“Get out of the way!” Aemond managed to warn his brother and the two noble girls, before Vemithor almost threw himself out from the lair with the Targaryen-Hightower middle prince on his back. 

“Hold on to the saddle and do not let go, whatever happens! If he flies straight up in the air before you have secured yourself with the leg ropes—!” 

This was exactly what happened. Thankfully, Sunfyre appeared at that moment by landing in front of Aegon, showing that despite his young age, the golden dragon was unusually large for his age and therefore Aegon could now ride him.

“Come on, Sunfyre! If Aemond falls off…!” 

Not far behind them, Helaena also arrived on Dreamfyre. 

Aemond had been allowed to fly once with Gael on Frostfyre, but this…

This was something completely new. As Vemithor changed into a straight line, Aemond could switch his position better and took the chance to tie his legs to the saddle so he did not fall to his death into the sea far below. 

“Hah….ha, ha….try and claim the Bronze Fury for one of your own children now, Rhaenyra!” 

Coming up at each side of Vemithor, Sunfyre and Dreamfyre joined up in the flight. Marking the first time three of Alicent's children proved to be dragonriders by flying their dragons together. Once Tessarion, the dragon hatchling of Daeron which had hatched a few months ago, was old enough, they hoped to have him join this sort of flight. 

And unseen to anyone else on Dragonstone Island, three other dragons had also taken their first flights with riders on their backs this night. Three different young people who had no drop of Valyrian blood at all in their veins. 

Nettles, born from a Summer Islander mother and an unknown Westerosi native father, with Sheepstealer.  

Gael's adopted daughter Aemma, of the Free Folk, with Silverwing. 

And Aziz Uller, the son of Rahima Uller from Dorne and an unknown Summer Islander father, with Grey Ghost.   

Those three may not be seen by anyone yet, but by being able to take this first flight with the dragons, they had just proved that the Targaryens were not having the only claim to become dragonriders.  

Chapter Text

As Grey Ghost was not yet used to having a human on his back, Aziz did not dare to fly too much. So when the grey-white dragon landed again, he made a point of quickly sliding off the scaled back and rewarded Grey Ghost with one last dried fish he had brought as a midnight snack. 

“I will need to explain this to Madre, though…” he thought for himself, watching as Grey Ghost flew off again, and for a very good reason. Back home in Dorne, dragons were associated with the Targaryens and the Valyrian Freehold, so Aziz knew already that he could not have Grey Ghost come with him back home to Hellbolt. He was far enough from Dragonstone Castle to not be seen by guards, so he should be able to slip away in the morning light. 

“Sorry, could you help us a little with climbing down here, please?” a voice of a girl asked, making him look up to see Sophie and Albina not far above him. They had brought a rope along in case they needed to climb while looking for dragon lairs with Aegon and Aemond, but right there it was still some height between their cliff and the path where Aziz was standing. 

“Of course. Be careful where you put your feet or hands so you do not cut yourselves, the morning light is not quite strong yet.” 

They did ask nicely, so what reason did he have to deny that request for a little help? 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

Aemond would have loved to fly more, but when Dreamfyre and Sunfyre flew back to outside the walls of the main gate leading to the central courtyard of the castle, he did allow Vemithor to join. After all, people would soon wake up and it was better to sneak back indoors before Rhaenyra heard about the Bronze Fury being seen alongside the dragons of his siblings. 

“Well done, brother!” Aegon smiled in honest pride at his three years younger brother as he slid off Sunfyre, even hugging Aemond out of the blue, “You managed to claim the Bronze Fury! The dragon of the Old King!”

Even Helaena joined the sibling hug after dismounting Dreamfyre. 

“You are finally a dragonrider, and now we only need to wait for Daeron and Tessarion to be old enough to join us in the sky.”

“Yes…” Aemond said somewhat absent-mindedly, still in wonder over that he now had a dragon himself. 

“We need to find Miss Reyne and Miss Bracken, too!” He then realized with some alarm over how far they had been from the castle, suddenly fearing how it would look if the two noble girls were missing from the castle and they were not found quickly. 

“Aegon! Miss Reyne and Miss Bracken…”

“Is already here.” 

A tossed leather glove was used to smack Aegon from behind to get his attention, revealing Sophie and Albina alongside Aziz. 

“The funny thing with downhills, is that it takes significantly faster to come down than up, especially if someone can also help to quickly climb to cut time too,” Sophie started with a nod to the Dornish boy standing beside her.

“Yeah, we hurried back directly after Aemond and Aegon had flown off, no use in waiting at the lair when the servants soon wake up in the castle and we need to appear as if we have been asleep all night,” Albina added. 

“Good point. But what are you doing here at Dragonstone, Aziz?” Aemond asked, revealing that the Hightower-Targaryen siblings already knew him. Crossing his arms in a neutral pose, Aziz responded:

“Madre, Gael and a few other witches are teaching the dragons here to not view witches as something to attack. Balerion the Black Dread got infamous among the Sisterhood for setting the brooms of flying witches on fire even prior to the Conquest, and that is not something which can be allowed to keep happening. I simply followed along because this must be done without the King and his desired heiress finding out, and thus someone to keep watch is needed.”

He was not completely lying, this was the real reason why Gael, Rahima and quite a few others had come here, beyond those like Lady Hildegard Baratheon and Lady Jeyne Arryn who had come as the current female heads of their families. Not to be guests during the burial of Daemon, but simply using a golden moment to be at Dragonstone without a lot of unwanted questions popping up. By also mentioning Viserys by his title and Rhaenyra as his desired heiress, Aziz was indirectly showing that the Sisterhood had no problems with Alicent and her children knowing about this. 

“Alright, let us try and get back indoors now before someone sees us out here at this early hour.”

Offering his hand to Sophie to show proper manners, Aegon was about to check if there were any guards around, then taking the lead. 

But they did not get far past the gate, before the characteristic roar of a small dragon was heard behind them. 

“Intruder!” 

Aziz, who had come along to the gate, was forced to run over to the small group else he would have gotten burned by the flames of Arrax, the dragon bonded to Lucerys, the second son of Rhaenyra. The pearlescent white young dragon may be smaller in size than Sunfyre, noticed to be unusually big for his age, but the ability to breathe fire still made even dragon hatchlings dangerous. 

“What are all of you doing out here with an intruder?” Prince Jacaerys asked as he and Lucerys appeared with the type of wooden swords used in training, looking displeased to see the half-siblings of his mother with a few others out here.  

“Not your business. And you should keep a better control on your dragons, allowing them to breathe fire at random people is a bad habit. What if they think that burning your future wives is acceptable thanks to this?” Aemond answered as he and Aegon moved in front of the others, Helaena grabbing the trembling hand of Aziz to try and help him calm down in an act of unspoken support for that they would not let the Strong boys harm him on a whim. 

“Exactly,” Sophie said coldly, straightening her back in a manner which reminded strongly of Alicent when she needed to remind people who they were talking to, “Do you think that any Lords will be happy to see their daughters wed to a set of princes who can not control their dragons when those are out of sight? Learn some manners in how to addressing people properly or you will only make yourselves be viewed as ill-mannered!” 

Behind her, Albina nodded in agreement, searching over her shoulder for the nearest doorday to run inside and get an adult in case things got out of control. 

“It is our business to know the identity of the person who flew around with the Bronze Fury earlier! Mother said that she intended for a future sibling of ours to claim him, and Silverwing for her first daughter!” 

Ah, yes. Of course someone would have noticed that it was not only Sunfyre and Dreamfyre taking their riders for such early flight in the morning, despite the small group and Helaena trying to sneak out without being noticed. 

“And why should your yet-to-be-begotten younger siblings have the only claim on the dragons ridden by the Old King and his sister-wife?” Aemond wondered, knowing that he risked to reveal himself as the new rider of Vemithor but he also knew that if his bastard nephews hurt Aziz for supposedly be a intruder who may aim to steal something of valuable from Dragonstone castle because no one of the nobles generally paid attention to the servants down in the kitchens, it would not be good. 

“Shut up, half-breed! ” Lucerys sneered, and that struck a nerve in both the present sons of Queen Alicent as well Aziz. For the princes, it reminded them of what Daemon would insult them as not being true Targaryens, and it was not the first time the son of Mistress Rahima Uller had heard someone throw that insult at him beyond the borders of his native Dorne.

“Watch that tongue of yours, Strong bastard!”

Those two insults started the fight. Sophie and Aegon may be the oldest with her being 14 and him nearly 13, followed by 11-year-old Albina and Helaena, and Aemond and Aziz who both was just a few months away from turning ten, but what did that help when the younger Jacaerys and Lucerys called on their dragons, Vermax and Arrax, to “even out” the fight? 

“Cheaters! Using your dragons?!”

Snowing that she had a talent for dancing since a young age, Sophie managed to avoid the flames from Vermax by using some dance steps and not having a long skirt which could be set on fire right now, dragging Albina with her in the same move, who instinctively reached for a small riding stick in her belt and managed to smack the olive green young beast hard on the snot as Sophie made them spun around together a second time. 

“Bad dragon! Bad!”

Maybe a bit childish to say in this situation, but somehow fitting at the same time. Especially as this small distraction from Albina managing to hit Vermax gave Aegon an opening to break the nose Jacaerys though a well-aimed punch, allowing Sophie to grab the wooden sword in the same movement from the oldest base-born son of Rhaenyra and cracked it over the snort of Arrax.  

“Learn some manners, indeed!”

And then Aemond howled in pain as Lucerys drew his dagger and slashed Aemond in the face, taking out his right eye at the same time as Vermax tried to threaten Helaena, but the jaws instead close around the left elbow of Aziz as he pushed the princess out of the way. 

“AEMOND!!” Both the terrified Aegon and Helaena screamed at seeing the wound on their brother as the middle sibling fell on his back, screaming once again from the raw pain. 

“M…M-Ma….” Albina whispered in horror over what she saw, panic rising inside her, as she grabbed something from her belt purse with the first aid kit and threw the item on the courtyard stones, causing an improvised emergency rocket to explode in the faces of Vermax and Arrax as it shot up in the pale light of the morning sun, freeing Aziz from getting his arm bitten off at the elbow by Vermax but still having a massive bleeding wound.

“MATIIIIIIIILDAAAAAAAA!!! YOUR HEALING MAGIC!! WE NEED YOUR HEALING MAGIC!! MATIIIIILDAAAA!!” Albina screamed on top of her lungs for her older sister as she somehow managed to pick up both Aemond and Aziz on her shoulders, running past the shocked Jacaerys and Lucerys who had never seen someone be able to carry that weight all by themselves, towards the front gate, not that this prevented Sophie from punch both the sons of Rhaenyra hard. 

“Royalty or not, you two will NOT escape punishment for maiming your own uncle!” the daughter of House Reyne warned, as she and Aegon ran after Albina while Helaena now dashed inside to get Alicent: 

“Moooooother!! Aemond was attacked! Aemond was attacked!!” 

The horrified screams from their respective riders from just a few minutes ago had attracted Sunfyre and Dreamfyre, who now attacked Vermax and Arrax, while Jacaerys and Lucerys were stopped from running away from the crime scene, by Safiya suddenly appearing and trapping them both inside a ring of lava which shot up from the ground, joined by Lilith Norridge next to her. 

“We saw what you two brats did without justification for your actions, and knowing the nature of your grandfather and mother, it falls upon the Sisterhood to teach you the meaning of ACTIONS HAVING CONSEQUENCES and that you will not always be able to escape punishment for your behavior towards others!! Penalty Game: The Golden Rule!!” 

The magic of Lilith joined together with that of Safiya, and now it was Lucerys' turn to scream in pain next to the terrified Jacaerys as the dominant hand he had used to maim Aemond, was burned by lava into a unrepairable state of fourth-degree burns. 

“You gave your uncle a life-long handicap with a lost eye, so you get to suffer an amputated hand as punishment, Strong boy.” 

Not sparing the two Strong bastards a second glare, the two witches left though the front gate, knowing that Matilda and the other present witches must have gathered where Albina had taken Aemond and Aziz for Matilda to give first aid on their injuries. 

“Let us see how you and the King will handle this unjustified attack on the three older children of Alicent, the daughters of two noble Houses and a son of a witch, Rhaenyra,” Safiya thought with a glare towards the castle, where people had woken up by the screams and dragon roars outside. 

While unplanned, this was a perfect time for Rhaenyra to prove to both the Sisterhood and those who was against her taking the Iron Throne instead of Aegon as the oldest surviving son of Viserys, that she could handle things without the protection of Viserys, and testing how she may be as a ruler in her own right. 

Chapter Text

It was pure chaos in the upper levels of the castle as Mistress Matilda Bracken and the other present witches at Dragonstone brought Aemond and Aziz indoors to a free room. Aegon had joined Helaena in telling Alicent what had happened, same with Sophie and Albina doing the same to their parents. 

“Heat up wine I can use to disinfect the wounds, with the most amount of alcohol anyone can find, Safiya!” 

The lava witch had no problem doing so with the not yet opened bottles of wine not used during the banquet in memory of Daemon just hours earlier, as Matilda first focused on stopping the bleeding in the face of Aemond and the arm of Aziz. 

“M-mother….!” Aemond whispered as Matilda carefully tried to dull the pain around his lost eye before doing anything else, being in too much pain to feel ashamed over being seen crying in front of so many people. And no wonder, he was sweating in his face, shaking uncontrollably and looking ready to pass out any moment. Aziz was having similar reactions to the pain in his arm. 

“Aemond!” Alicent called as she rushed inside, stopping for a moment at the horrible sight, and then hurried over to Lilith requesting her to help keep Aemond still though a hug. Safiya was doing the same with Aziz, because Gael and Rahima had not been with the others right now but were expected to show up quickly. 

“I can help…” Maester Gerardys tried to offer, only for Julia Reyne to snap at him as she literally kicked him out of the room: 

“NO!! You go and handle the fucking bastard rats who caused those injuries!” 

Julia did not care if she was heard openly insulting the supposed heirs to the Iron Throne, the children of the Crown Princess, because if Rhaenyra saw this as a golden opportunity to get rid of a possible rival to the throne by secretly ordering that Aemond was not given the proper treatment to prevent a death by infection or that Aemond was poisoned though his food or drink when he was so vulnerable…

And this was exactly what Alicent was fearing inside her mind as well, hugging her middle son tightly. 

“If she and Viserys dismiss this as a childish fight going overboard which was actually started by my children to make her own sons look bad, I will never forgive them!”

Thankfully, the pain-numbing magic of Matilda with the aid of willow bark was doing its work, and she could soon sew up the wounds on Aziz and Aemond after a thoughtful washing with alcohol to avoid infections. 

“Now for the bandages.” 

It was true that the Maesters often were the healers of nobility due to their schooling, but for the wider masses, healer witches like Matilda were normal. As such, Matilda had inherited a different sort of passed-down medicinal knowledge. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X  

As one could expect, Rhaenyra did not react well to hearing what her sons were accused of doing. Nor to the fact that the dominant hand of Lucerys so badly burned that Maester Gerardys really had no other choice in treatment than have it amputated.  

Despite the present witches even using a Trial of Truth-magic to actually show from the memories of the children, it did not seem to convince Rhaenyra that her two oldest sons had truly done this harm to Aemond and Aziz, not even when seeing the injuries in person as the boys was carried up to the Great Hall to show her and Viserys what “all this fuss” actually was about. 

“Lies! My sons can not have done something like that! If anything, my half-siblings should know better than sneaking around in the middle of the night! And I want to know where they have picked up those lies about my sons not being sired by Laenor!” 

Not that this denying helped her, as Lord Julius Reyne and Lord Humfrey Bracken revealed while holding Albina and Sophie close to themselves: 

“Our daughters could have been harmed because your sons thought it fair to use their dragons against your siblings, princess!” 

“Stop denying that none of your sons look like Lord Laenor!”

“Silence, all of you!” Viserys ordered in a for-him-unusual raised voice, though this did not stop the furious glares across the Great Hall between the parents whose children had gotten involved. 

“Aegon,” Viserys started and made his oldest son come closer to him, “Where did you hear such calumnies about your sister-sons?”

Aegon knew that he was unlikely to be believed by his father even if he did spoke the truth, and his lack of immediate response seemed to annoy Viserys, causing him to almost scream in his son's face:

“Aegon! Tell me the truth of it!”

To his credit, the oldest son of Alicent did stand firm despite that outburst, and said in a more calm voice than what he really felt inside: 

“Everyone knows, Father. Just look at them. You have known Lord Boremund Baratheon longer than anyone else in the family, and Lady Jocelyn Baratheon is the still alive birth mother of your own cousin Rhaenys. Are it truly the classic Baratheon traits of coal-black hair, blue eyes and strong, square jawlines that all three of Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey are showing? Especially compared to young Gorm Baratheon over there, who has an Umber father?” 

Even with Joffrey still in the nursery under the orders of his mother, it was plain impossible to claim that Aegon was lying. While most of the younger Baratheon children had stayed home at Storm's End, Gorm had come with his parents to Dragonstone as the heir. In fact, 11-year-old Gorm, born the same year as Helaena, was looking like a true Baratheon in every inch thanks to black hair and blue eyes being perfectly normal in House Umber too, while the brown hair and eyes, and a pug nose on Jacaerys and Lucerys…. 

More than one eye went in the direction of Lord Larys Strong, who was not massive in the same manner as his late brother Harwin but still enough similar in looks to prove a clue to the unspoken suspicion, and then towards Laenor himself, with his aquiline nose, silver-white hair, and purple eyes.

And then, in a unplanned attempt to take back control over the situation, Rhaenyra said something that really did not calm down Lords Reyne and Bracken, Alicent or the present witches: 

“No, father! I want every single one of those children sharply questioned so we know for sure that they are not lying to make my sons look like they are illegitimate!” 

“We are not lying! You are the one trying to hide the truth!” 

Rhaenyra did not get to say more, or Sophie to speak more in protest, before everyone suddenly became aware that the temperature had sunk alarmingly fast, a clear sign that Gael and Rahima was back, and had just found out what had happened to Aziz and Aemond. Then, a furious female voice was heard: 

“RHAENYRA TARGAREN!!! ” 

The sound of breaking glass in the windows as balls made out of sea water burst through, followed by ice spears breaking through the stones used to build Dragonstone castle. In fact, one such ball shot forwards and even went straight through the already burned hand of Lucerys, effectively slicing off his ruined hand from his arm as the water transformed into an ice blade. 

“Aaaaaagh!” 

Maester Gerardys hurried to catch the boy, as all attention now went to two shapes in the raised sea water outside. It was Gael and Rahima, both looking utterly pissed. 

“I promised Queen Aemma to watch your road in life, if it would end with sitting on the Iron Throne, and you respond by hurting my godchildren?! ” Gael snarled, pointing her staff against Rhaenyra in a sign of open threat. This made the Crown Princess and King turn their eyes towards Alicent, who nodded to confirm the words. 

“I asked Gael to be the godmother of all my four children prior to each birth, should something happen to me and none of my Hightower kin would be around to act instantly in that scenario.” 

This made Rhaenyra pale in alarm, because a godparent could claim legal guardianship of a child if anything happened to the parents. 

“And the Queen's children are not the only godchildren of Gael to be present here! I have been so gracious as to never chase away the dragons of your damned brats with my magic until now, and yet you allow them to use those beasts to harm this son of mine!” 

Now all attention went to Rahima, who used a momentary glamor to appear as Aziz. 

“That’s right, the boy who could have lost his arm in the jaws of that young white dragon, is mine by birth and another godchild of Gael.” 

“No…” Corlys whispered for himself, understanding that this was no longer just a conflict between the different sides of the royal family, but directly involving the Sisterhood because one witch-son had been harmed, and two sisters to another pair of witches had also been at risk to be harmed. Not only that, but Sophie and Albina belonged to two of the most well-known and long-lived noble houses in Westeros. 

“Neither yourself or your sons seem to understand the meaning of consequences for your actions, or that you can not treat other people as you please on a whim, so….

“No!” Viserys ordered in vain as ice-cold sea water slammed over him, causing chains of ice to trap him, unable to do anything as Rahima slammed her staff over the face of Rhaenyra, drawing up a cut alongside her check, followed by Rahima forcing her to roll around over the floor to avoid getting hit either by the water witch or the ice spears breaking through the floor. 

“Daddy dearest is not gonna be able to save you from consequences this time, Rhaenyra, or his grandchildren, for that matter. This is our judgment: Your sons are losing their dragons as their lesson that being royalty will not always protect them from harm!”  

A united glow of light blue water was forming around the staffs of Gael and Rahima as they were crossed. 

“No!” 

But it was too late. Though the shattered windows, everyone could see how Vermax and Arrax, already injured from the bites of Sunfyre and Dreamfyre before the two younger dragons had managed to flee, now was shot through their bodies with ice spears and the same floating water balls Rahima had used to break the window glass. In fact, they even aimed for such an angle that the two young dragons were first losing the ability to fly though targeting the wings, followed by several cuts in the long necks, ensuring death by blood loss upon landing on the ground. 

“Stop it! I command you to stop as the King—!” 

Now Viserys found his hair grabbed and himself tossed around as a ragdoll for everyone to see, by Gael as she spun around in a circle. 

“Be silent, Viserys Targaryen! You are the worst kind of good because you are not even great! Your great weakness is that you hate conflict of any kind, yet acts blind and deaf to how your legacy will be tainted by Rhaenya NOT learning that she can not act as she always pleases, and even allow your grandson to risk become a new coming of Daemon in the future because you dotes upon them just like you shelters her from taking responsibility!” 

And then, an ice blade slashed up the back of Viserys, damaging the nerves in his spine to such a degree that he would be paralyzed in his legs from now on.

“Father!” 

“Your grace!” 

With the Kingsguard members running over to Viserys, who had fainted from the pain, Gael pointed her staff against the horrified Rhaenyra, clearly warning her from taking a single step closer. 

“Remember this, Rhaenyra Targaryen: With time, our true characters are revealed, though our words being compared to what we actually do. Keep claiming all you want that you are the true heir of your father and that your sons are true-born despite not looking like Laenor, if you so want, but it will cost you in the end.” 

Rhaenyra was visibly trembling in fury, and then without warning, grabbed a dagger from the belt of Laenor, one which he normally wore for self-defense, and went straight towards Alicent of all people, dragger held up in the air. 

“You! If only you had stillbirths, or never had birthed a son—!” 

This time as the terrified Aegon rushed in front of his mother as Helaena also pulled Alicent backwards in a shared attempt to protect their mother, it was Lady Hildegard Baratheon and Lady Jeyne Arryn who stopped Rhaenyra, by wapping her up in a miniature tornado and removing the air from her lungs, threatening to suffocate her. Collapsing down on the floor, Rhaenyra gasped for breath, unable to really accept how close she had come to dying for real at this moment. 

“Your willingness to become a kinslayer of your own kin, have revealed your true character, Rhaenyra. And you can not use our connection as kin to demand my loyalty anymore.” 

Jeyne held up a yellow-colored glass miniature of Syrax, which shattered upon being dropped on the stone floor. Hildegard mirrored this, as well every single one of the other witches. Despite his shock from just seeing how Rhaenyra had been willing to harm his mother, Aegon did not miss the meaning of those shattered miniatures: 

Rhaenyra had just lost the support of the Sisterhood to be a claimant in her own right to the Iron Throne. That meant he, Aemond and Daeron had to work really hard now, because in the eyes of the wider population, the support by the Sisterhood outweighed that of the nobles.   

His thoughts was confirmed by Mistress Noelle, who spoke up: 

“Your next pregnancy will be your last, Princess Rhaenyra, so make sure to treasure the result well. Because you can either be replaced as heir by one of your half-brothers, or your legal born offspring.” 

Then a flashing light blinded everyone, and when the light died out, all the witches with their families were gone. Even Alicent and her children. After a few moments of shunned silence, Rhaenyra found her voice: 

“N-no….the Iron Throne is mine…my children are true-born! They are all lying, I have done nothing wrong…!” 

She broke down in tears, unable to yet fully understand how much she had messed up this time, and how Aegon had proved her to be lying about her three sons being sired by Laenor by pointing out their looks compared to the legal Baratheons. 

“Rhaenyra!” 

Laenor hugged her, as Corlys also came over with an open wine bottle. 

“I think you both need this? To calm your nerves after all this.”

His daughter-in-law grabbed the bottle, emptying a good amount of it and ten offered it to Laenor, who took a smaller slip. 

“Father and my sons! Give them the medicinal treatment they need!” 

But what Rhaenyra did not know was that this was the second magical fertility drink which Corlys had fooled her and Laenor to drink together. At the banquet yesterday after the burial of Daemon, they had shared another bottle with a such drink mixed into the wine, and just like in this moment, Laenor had done the necessary physical touch to replace the normal baby-making by hugging Rhaenyra close and trying to silently comfort her that way. 

Before year 120 after the Conquest was over, a true Targaryen-Velaryon child between Rhaenyra and Laenor would be born as the desired fruit of their arranged marriage. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

The HeadQuarters of the Sisterhood, not far from Oldtown: 

Aemond and Aziz had been placed in two guest chambers for resting, while the rest was busy with a meeting. Alicent had been allowed to sit down in a chair, and offered a cup of strong herbal tea to battle the shock over that not only had Rheanyra been willingly to torture innocent children for speaking the truth, but even trying to attack her. Alys helped her to not drop the cup from her trembling hands, as Alicent finally found her voice: 

“....A-Aegon…please never fall that low….not with your siblings…please…” 

“No, mother. That was an act of madness indeed.”

Aegon was more terrified than he admitted, because this showed just how far Rhaenyra was willing to hide that her sons were bastards. 

“My Queen, may we have a talk of a more private nature?” Lord Bracken asked, while Lord Reyne spoke in low whispers to Rahima, trying to navigate some form of reward for Aziz for helping the princes and Helaena protecting Sophie and Albina from Vermax and Arrax despite that he could have just saved himself by simply running away from the scene. 

“You may, my Lord. Because I wanted to thank your daughters for helping my sons and my own daughter in this mess.”

On the other hand, Gael had dragged Safiya out in a private chamber. 

“Alright, young lady, split it out: When is my grandchild due? ” 

While not all witches in the Sisterhood had it as training or their base of magic, most were familiar with acting as midwives at some point or another when the normal midwives faced a difficult birth and needed help to prevent either mother, child or both from dying. Safiya was her only biological child, but Gael was familiar enough with pregnancy to guess why her oldest daughter had been in a more foul mood than normal lately. 

“Middle of the eight months of this year. The father is Fahir, from a lesser branch of House Wyl. The one with a mother who is a trader captain from the Summer Isles.”

It took a moment for Gael to connect the name with the right face, an auburn-haired, brown-skinned man around the same age as Safiya and stunning green eyes, and she smiled. 

“Ah yes. That kind-hearted king of games, as he is called around Dorne. Well-known for never cheating in whatever game he is challenged in and being a graceful loser the few times he loses a game, despite that physical sports are not his strong point. Taking after me in falling for someone from Dorne, which few people would expect by a Targaryen descendant, are you?”  

Safiya blushed, but she did not deny why she had been so irritated lately. Besides, just like Gael had once done 21 years ago, she had wanted a possible partner that could give her own child fresh blood to battle the Targaryen inbreeding in her lineage and hopefully not look too much like a pale-skinned, purple-eyed, silver-white haired baby at birth to reveal that there was Valyrian lineage in the mother or father. 

“Yes, mother.” 

Gael made a mental count in her head. She was a Targaryen, Jouchi was Dothraki, and the sire of her grandchild was Dornish with a Summer Isles mother. Yes, the risks for her new descendant to be viewed as a dragon seed sired by either a Targaryen or Velaryon man, was quite low, with this amount of mixed-race lineage. A silver-white hair could be mistaken as a very pale blonde to a darker skin color, and she doubted that with the dark eyes from Jouchi and Fahir's mother alongside the green eyes known in House Wyl, purple eyes would really manage to come off as a different shade than a dark lavender. 

“You are the mother, your choice in revealing the father or not. But Aemma should be told because she is your sister.”

Withín a month, a new message was spread across Westeros:

That Prince Aegon was formally betrothed to Sophie Reyne. The same with Prince Aemond to Albina Bracken, and Prince Daeron to Elina Norridge. In short, the three sons of Queen Alicent now had their future wives, and were following the new tradition of House Targaryen no longer having brother-sister marriages but instead had to wed spouses from Westeros if they wanted to keep the Iron Throne. 

Words were also spread about that Aziz Uller, the son of Mistress Rahima Uller from Dorne, was also now under the protection of not only Queen consort Alicent Hightower, but also Lord Humfrey Bracken and Lord Julius Reyne, for protecting both the three elder children of Queen Alicent as well Sophie and Albina from the Strong boys and their dragons.

And upon hearing that Rhaenyra had accepted Alysanne Blackwood as the betrothed to her oldest son Jacaerys, few doubted what this could mean: That the royal dynasty risked to wake up that infamous feud between House Bracken and Blackwood, and get tangled into it themselves by making it into a sucession war over the Iron Throne if things went really wrong.  

Chapter Text

His wound did hurt, Aemond could not deny that fact, during the first days following the event at Dragonstone. The same for Aziz, who needed to keep his left arm in a sling for the time being. After the first day at the HeadQuarters, they had been moved to the same chamber with two beds on both sides of a central window. 

“Matilda said that, had I been bitten by one of the older and bigger dragons, I would have lost my arm for sure. Apparently, Vermax also had not lost his baby teeth yet, so even with the strength of his jaw, the teeth were not the permanent ones. As it is now, I am lucky to not suffer any worse nerve damage and scarring.” 

Having turned his head around to see with his remaining eye towards the other bed in the chamber they shared for the time being, Aemond whined at hearing this. That Vermax still had his baby teeth by dragon standards was likely proof that dragons could grow at different rates, like that Sunfyre was less than five years old but noticeably bigger already than Vermax, whose egg had hatched in the cradle of Jacaerys the year before, and Tessarion was not even a year old yet. Mother had once compared it to how Ronald Arryn was half a year older than Lucerys, yet the second bastard of Rhaenyra had looked slightly taller when the two boys had been standing next to each other once at a court event when they were nearly 3 and 2 ½ years old. Something about same-aged human children growing at different rates, if Aemond recalled right, so something similar also made sense for dragons.  

“Time for your pain-numbing medicines so you can sleep tonight without too much pain, boys,” Rahima said from the doorway, carrying a tray with some cup filled with liquid medicine. It was also near time for the twice-a-day look at the wounds so no inflammation or infection was spreading. 

“I am sorry for how this happened, Mistress Uller, just because Aziz wanted to help us sneak back inside Dragonstone castle before anyone noticed that we was not in bed,” Aemond told in a low voice, looking crestfallen over how his desíre to claim a adult dragon had caused all this. 

“Aemond, Rhaenyra never invites us as guests to Dragonstone and prefers to fly to the royal court to visit her father, never us. With Viserys wanting to hold the burial of Daemon on Dragonstone because that is the ancient family seat, this might have been the only chance for you to claim one of the riderless dragons there without having to sneak around there and getting into trouble for being somewhere you were not supposed to be,” the voice of Alicent suddenly caught their attention as she entered behind Mathilda, both mothers holding their sons still so the healer witch could take a look on the healing wounds. 

“Exactly. A far worse scenario would be you sneaking around on Dragonstone island with no one knowing exactly where you were, and getting burned at being rejected by the dragon. Worst case scenario, you would be unable to move too far, and end up dying in agony all alone before any help could find you in time to save your life.” 

“But Sophie and Albina…” Aemond started, twitching in pain as Matilda gently cleaned the scar from his lost eye with strong alcohol. 

“Old enough to make choices for themselves, and knowing that there will always be risks or consequences with what they choose to do. Now stop brooding over it, the bastard sons of your sister have faced punishment for their actions and Rhaenyra has also gotten a warning that she can not run away from consequences forever. If they can not learn that they can not always act as they pleases, then they are reaping what they sow and can not complain about the results,” Rahima reminded in a stern yet also gentle manner, kissing her son on the forehead before personally wapping his elbow in fresh bandages. 

“Um….may I come in with this for Aemond and Aziz?” Albina asked while she peeked in though the open door, revealing that she had found some snowdrop flowers outside. 

“The first spring flowers are always a welcomed sight, and we can place them in a cup of water like this. Just because it is more common for girls to get flowers from boys, I think it is a nice way to show a wish for someone to get better soon, no matter what gender the sick or injured person is,” Alicent smiled. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

That evening, inside a private chamber of the Starry Sept: 

High Septon Torgrim was not happy to hear about what had happened at Dragonstone. Both because a communication mirror with the present witches in the HeadQuarters allowed him to hear the side of Aegon, Sophie, Helena and Albina about the event alongside what Aemond and Aziz could remember among the pain as they had gotten their injuries, and a rather upset letter from Rhaenyra about how her sons were the true victims here.  

“Does the royal family have to drag in people outside the direct persons, every time there is a family drama causing conflict?” 

Rubbing his eyes at feeling an incoming headache, he wanted to just lay down and sleep for the night without any more thoughts of this new mess. Torgrim had always known that House Targaryen had a cruel side to them, but Rhaenyra wanting her half-siblings and three other children tortured for speaking the truth, was an alarming sign which should not be ignored. In fact, the High Septon dreaded what sort of scenario her orders could have caused for negative consequences across the realm, if Mistresses Gael and Rahima had prevented it from happening. Yes, Rhaenyra had gotten a clear warning and her sons had been punished for their behavior in a way which not even King Viserys had been able to prevent, but Torgrim still felt troubled over the likelihood that this may not be a stand-alone incident. 

“Grandmother Eydis, please guide me in what to do here…you, who were the last Seer Witch of the Ironborn Coven,” he whispered, opening a small wooden box to reveal an old, rather well-worn brooch of iron inside. It was a well-guarded secret of Torgrim, that his now late mother Gertrud was one of the few survivors from when the Ironborn culture was literally wiped out of existence back in the winter of year 57 after the Conquest. How Gertrud had survived the end of her birth culture was also a sad tale, because the then current Lord Greyjoy had insisted that the Iron Islands needed Svetlana back to reclaim their glory days under Harren the Black… and demanded the twelve-year-old Gertrud as a human sacrifice to offer Svetlana a host body to take over instead of summoning her spirit into a infant which would need years to grow. Eydis, understandably, had made the emotionally painful choice of placing her daughter in the care of Lord Edmund and Lady Sibylle Bracken with this brooch as the only keepsake of her mother, pleading with the pair to let her pose as a newly arrived household servant so Getrud could survive to adulthood and hopefully live a happy life with a husband and children without someone hunting her down for her true identity as a young woman hailing from the Iron Islands…

While Eydis betrayed Lord Greyjoy by revealing to the Sisterhood what he had intended, arguing that her whole birth culture needed to be wiped out to prevent that something like this order risked to be given again in the future, and sadly, there was members of her Coven who did see Svetlana as a prime example of how successful a Ironborn Witch could be, even agreeing with Lord Greyjoy that Svetlana needed to return for people on the mainland to start fearing the Ironborn again. 

Had it really been needed to kill every man, woman and child on the Iron Islands, those identified as Ironborn and followed their customs? Perhaps not everyone, that was true, but King Jaehaerys I and his Queen Alysanne had insisted on giving those orders to their men in the fleet sent to the Iron Islands, even using their dragons to burn castles and villages, while the members of the Sisterhood had not realized this before the dragon fires was already used in a way which remained far too much of Harrendal. 

“Alright…just accept whatever she is sending for vision this time…”

Laying down on his bed, Torgrim held the brooch in one closed hand. 

An slightly older woman in her early forties, with similar green eyes to himself, flying around the young King Jaehaerys on Vemithor. 

“Dracarys!”  

But Eydis did not remain still long enough in the air for the Bronze Fury to burn her. Instead, she flew around the pair, proving to be impossible to hit by hiding herself in the rising smoke around them. 

“You may be a more promising King and better husband than your cursed uncle, young man, but soon, with time, your true nature shall reveal itself! I see a young love fade with time and wither, I see the sacrifice of innocent girls, I see portrayals of betrayals and a strained legacy when the truth finally comes out! I see you on the brink of death, I see your final breath, ignored by the only son and hated by the daughters who survives you!"  

“What?” 

Ordering Vemithor to breathe fire again, Jaehaerys cursed as it failed to strike their target once again. 

“Those are my last words to you, Jaehaerys: For each daughter you one day will try and replace Alysanne in bed with once they are the same age as she was when you had your marriage, because you will refuse to accept her changing nature as you both grow older as well that you desires to remain the only man in their lives, a son of yours shall die before yourself! I see one daughter whose own daughter is wed too young to her own cousin and dies in childbirth because of a demanded male heir! I see a daughter forced to flee from the Silent Sisters because you view her suitor as a threat to your own power over her and you being unable to accept that she does not worship you! A third daughter shall be intended for a Northern marriage, but Alysanne being resentful over her youthful beauty and instead insisting on her marrying a widower older than yourself! I see your last child and youngest daughter drowning herself in the Black Bay the year before Alysanne dies, because you are the TRUE father of her stillborn child and your wife pretends to not see your SEXUAL ABUSE of all those four daughters because she views them as rivals for your attention and believing that she somehow is special for being “good Queen” Alysanne with her woman courts and all else she is doing as your sister-wife! I curse you, Jaehaerys Targaryen! I curse you to be unable to hide your true self for those four daughters, and the same for Alysanne! Because being good parents and being a good pair of rulers are two completely different things, and your way of being parents will be the ruin of the happy royal marriage you present to the realm! May your flesh mast become unable to raise tall and proud in the presence of any other woman than Alysanne, and those children within the marriage shall be the only ones you ever sires! May your daughters reject any touches of yours on them, and firmly keep their distance from you so you never can do this horrible treatment to them!”

The face of Jaehaerys darkened as he heard what Eydis said, and the possible meaning of those words. 

“Silence! I refuse to hear any more of your lies! I will only ever love Alysanne, and our children shall continue the traditions of the Valyrian Freehold by marrying their brothers! Dracarys!” 

But Eydis did not die from the dragon fire. No, she willingly let herself drop from the sky by simply sliding off her broom which still flew forwards and poked Vemithor in one eye before it also fell down, the sudden touch in the eye greatly annoying the dragon as Jaehaerys found himself busy to keep the dragon under control, knowing that there were several sharp up-pointing rocks right below this spot where she and Jaehaerys were.

"Remember, Jaehaerys Targaryen! Ice and cold are the opposite of fire and heat!" Eydis called, as she vanished out of his sight, "Winter as the opposite of summer! Remember the tales of THE LEGENDARY QUEEN OF WINTER, ICE AND COLD!!"  

And that she would die a quick death if turning herself upside down, so her head hit the tallest, deadly sharp, up-pointing rock first. 

“Make sure to make that third daughter of theirs, that septa who thinks she can belittle her own siblings because she is oh so pious and gentle compared to them, face that she is no better than her parents, grandson.” 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

As he woke up, the dark winter night outside telling him that dawn was nowhere close to happening yet, Torgrim knew this vision which had masked itself as a dream in his sleep. He had seen it once before, back in year 89 after the Conquest, when Maegelle had been busy trying to make her parents reconcile in time for the wedding of their granddaughter Rhaenys to Lord Corlys the following year, the royal couple having spent two years estranged and living apart after a bitter argument about Saera who then lived in Lys after escaping from the silent sisters upon finding out that Jaehaerys had planned to wed her to a several times-widower, old enough to be her grandfather and having heirs from his earlier marriages.  

“Seven-who-are-One…!” 

Even now, nearly 31 years later, he was still horrified by what his grandmother had revealed. The late King Jaehaerys had bedded his own daughters in a different dimension, which his grandmother must have seen in one of those visions of alternative selves, and Eydis had cursed this world's Jaehaerys to suffer impotence whatever he tried to bed any other woman outside Alysanne to ensure that the Gael of this world never would become pregnant with a child sired by her own father, and that the Daella, Saera and Viserra of this world would be safe from him as well. 

“And it is not like Maegelle proved herself to be a saint compared to her sisters, exactly!” 

Yes, much as Maegelle had denied it. She had shown a similar cruelty as both her parents, in a different form, by openly belittling Saera to have “acted like a whore” despite how remorseful Saera had been about getting her friends in trouble, and not acting like a role model of a well-mannered, pious princess who would never shame her parents. Torgrim himself had overheard Maegelle say in a not very nice manner to Alysanne that the Faith would not accept Daella because she could not read well or remember her prayers correctly, if she found herself unlikely to be married off. And that Viserra was a fool for protesting about being married to the elderly Lord Manderly, though she had known from a sneaked-in letter that it was the younger Theomore Manderly who was her intended bridegroom rather than his same-named grandfather as the Queen aimed for. 

And then there was how Maegelle had told Torgrim about how she had handled the two Great Quarrels of her parents:

“It seems like Mother had forgotten the “to be an obedient and faithful wife” part of her marriage vows, from when her 13-year-old self married Father in their first, secret wedding, and then, just a year later, did a second, more public ceremony where they also consummated the marriage . Besides, does she really want to see a younger woman take her place next to father? See this younger woman bear him more children, and their mere existence causing wide spread whispers that all of us, the children born from the former Queen Alysanne, are actually bastards, born from brother-sister incest and thus illegitimate, therefore making us unable to claim that we are the true heirs to the Iron Throne. Does she want to cause a new civil war over succession, and have that strain her legacy? No, Mother has to be at court, she has to be by her husband's side, because that's her place. ”

And with those words, Maegelle had revealed herself to be hiding this cruel side of herself behind a mask of being a supposedly ideal septa. Just like how she had been unnecessary harsh on Saera, her way of telling her own mother basically “you made this bed, now lay in it”, revealed Maegelle to not only have picked up some unpleasant behavior from both her parents, but also she had became one of those septas who sadly got a thrill out of torturing other women who don't conform properly to a ideal image of a woman. And Torgrim strongly suspected that much of this two-faced personality of Maegelle where she presented herself as a kind, gentle septa while hiding that cruel side of herself in public, could be traced back to the fact that Maegelle had been sent as a novice to Maidenpool of all places, supposedly to make it seem like Alysanne had forgiven the order of holy sisters from the Faith there, for the attempted assassination of her pregnant fifteen-year-old self when she had wanted to bathe in the healing waters of Jonquil's Pool and how Alysanne always believed that her firstborn child, the premature-born prince Aegon Targaryen, would not have died after only three days if she had been allowed to bath in the pool. 

If there still was members of the order who remembered that event and thus believed that Maegelle, like the rest of her siblings, were a abomination born from a sin of brother-sister incest, it was way too easily to imagine how they had twisted the ten-year-old novice Maegelle into becoming this sort of two-faced septa with time, as a revenge against Alysanne. In fact, Torgrim could swear that it was not just his imagination playing a trick on him: 

“You sent your daughter here of all places? Well, let's see how much you enjoy being wedded to your own brother as time passes and your older self has to keep up your expected duties as wife and queen, oh naive little queen, with your own daughter as the mouthpiece of our view of what an ideal woman should do in her marriage.” 

Signing for himself as he emptied a cup of cold water to clear his head, Torgrim knew that he had to tell about this vision to the Sisterhood and what his late grandmother had seen Jaehaerys able of doing. Many people who had lived at the Red Keep back in year 84, had already doubted that Saera really was such a trouble-maker back as a young girl when that scandal about herself and her friends broke out at court, or that all blame could be laid on the 17-year-old princess, because more than one very suspicious noble had pointed out to Jaehaerys and Alysanne in written letters that the burden of everyday ruling was no legal excuse if their household employed such poor servants and septas who could not think for themselves like reporting a threat to have their tongues ripped out to someone higher up who could make a such threat null, like Queen Alysanne herself who outranked both her daughter princess Saera and all four of her friends who came from different noble families. Few had blamed Viserra for not wanting to be the fifth wife of a widower older than her Jaehaerys herself, and many had also viewed Jaehaerys as being overly harsh on Daella about her chances for marriage. 

Laying back in the bed, Torgrim held up the seven-pointed state pendant in front of his eyes. The late Lord Edmund Bracken, who had taken in his mother despite this plea from Eydis coming out of the blue, proved true to this promise, because the Lord and Lady had known better than risking Eydis cursing them, for breaking this promise to a witch, from her grave. Gertrud had raised in status over her life to become a respectable lady's maid to Lady Sibylle Bracken, marrying the valet who served Lord Edmund and no one had raised a eyebrow over that Torgrim, upon it being noticed that he was clever and could raise above the status of a servant if he just was given the chance to get a education despite being a commoner by social status, had been sent to the Faith with the elderly Dowager Lady Sibylle Bracken financially backing the son of her trusted long-term servants. 

After all, the siblings of Torgrim and their own children were now a stable part of the Bracken household, and Miss Albina Bracken was even going to have a younger niece of Torgrim as her own lady's maid while staying at the royal court. So yes, the House of Bracken had indeed proved to be a wiser choice to leave Gertrud in, despite Eydis knowing that she would never see her only child again once leaving the twelve-year-old girl there. 

“And they were a much better choice than the Lord Blackwood of the time, said to have sired natural children on every new household maid who entered service there…” 

All families had their good and bad members, but Eydis had not wanted Gertrud to end up shunned by society for having a bastard child with her employer who would never recognize the child of a maid servant, and Lord Blackwood back in year 57 after the Conquest sadly was one of those nobles who could not stay faithful to a legal wife even after several children together, no matter how beautiful, gentle and skilled she was in the classical feminine graces while growing up and preparing herself for the expected life of a wife and mother in the noble social status. 

And Torgrim had sworn to never disgrace the efforts of Dowager Lady Sibylle Bracken to have him rise in status through the ranks of the Faith. Now, as the High Septon for the last 20 years by being selected to the post despite being the youngest candidate by being only 38 years back then, this role as the High Septon was literally raising as high as he ever had been able to come. Now, with knowing that Mistress Noelle having foreseen that the younger daughter of the current Lord Humfrey Bracken and his wife Victoria Bracken neé Waynwood from the Vale of Arryn, Miss Albina Bracken, would be a royal princess by marriage to prince Aemond Targaryen, he would not let princess Rhaenyra ruin this by either claiming that Albina was unsuitable as a bride for a royal prince or something else to remove Aemond and any possible legal child of his as a threat to her own claim to the Iron Throne. 

Same with Prince Aegon and Sophie Reyne, daughter to Lord Julius Reyne and his wife Lady Alina Reyne neé Marbrand. And Prince Daeron with Elina Norridge, daughter of Lord Louis Norridge and Lady Hedwig Norridge neé Estermont. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

As it was, Gael could not sleep either, and now told Saera about what happened at Dragonstone though a communication mirror. The older sister paled in shock over what had happened, then switched to anger as she heard how Rhaenyra had handed it all. 

“She is extremely lucky to not be living in the years of my youth, or the following decade. If Maegelle was still alive and heard about the Crown Princess openly parading around her bastards as legal sons and heirs in front of everyone….” 

Saera had accepted that she and her four friends had acted out of line, back in year 84 when the scandal involving them broke out, but she had been very shocked during her stay at the silent sisters in Oldtown by how similar Maegelle acted like Jaehaerys and openly calling her a whore over a few innocent kisses from Braxton Beesbury as a sign of that he intended to formally ask for her hand in marriage in the proper way. And how was it her responsibility alone that Alys Turnberry and Roy Connington had been sneaking around together, enough to the point of Alys becoming pregnant with his child, when she was not their nursemaid and there was servants and septas who had been designed to keep a eye on the young members of the court so nothing such did happened? 

It was bad enough that the unwed Lord Roy Connington had refused to marry Alys Turnberry and restore her social honor by a legal marriage when Queen Alysanne had suggested it, even after that she had given birth to a girl whose bright red hair revealed the baby to be sired by Roy since red hair was well-known as a trait of House Connington, which he had as well. But it was the news of her being intended as the newest bride for a much older widower with living heirs already, alongside Maegelle threatening to take the innocent child of Alys away from the Motherhouse of Maris in Gulltown, not long after that her friend had been wed to Lord Dunstan Pryor of Pebble, and personally raise the little girl to know that Saera was the main cause of her being born as a bastard from sinful lusts, that had spun Saera into action and flee Westeros as the only way to escape a horrible fate and legacy for something she had no control over. 

“I had already offered to take  responsibility for my friend's child as a way of showing remorse for the scandal and showing that I had learned a harsh lesson from it. I simply had to change that plan a bit.”

Thinking a bit about her three nephews and three nieces from Saera, Gael had to confirm something about a red haired woman who rarely had been away from her sister whatever Gael visited her in Volantis:

“That child of Alys and Roy…it is Birgitta, right? You have birthed six natural children with different fathers since leaving Westeros, but your oldest one, who makes that number to seven, has always…looked like I have seen her red hair and rare jade-green eyes somewhere among the nobility in Westeros. Red hair from House Connington, and jade-green eyes from House Turnberry. Yet even with only one of your sons having a pure Valyrian appearance that makes him look nearly identical to our father in his youth, she still sticks out somewhat by not having a mixed appearance like her siblings, and it is hard missing that dark birthmark spot on top of her left hand.” 

Saera did not seem ashamed over Gael guessing the true identity of her oldest daughter. 

“I still had my hair white-blonde shaved off so I was bald, the grey robes and face veil of a silent sister to hide my face, and no one paid attention to an additional silent sister walking around in Gulltown because one of the Vale nobles was being prepared for burial when I arrived there. How did I identify Birgitta among the other small children? Simple, her red hair and that birthmark, which Alys had mentioned in the only letter she managed to send me before her marriage. I did not like having to push a few of the other children into the seawater around the island as a distraction for the septas, but I needed some way to quickly grab Bírgitta before anyone saw me and row away with her in a rowboat before anyone noticed that there was one missing child among the toddlers, and I had already warned the captain of a ship aiming for Lys that there would be a mother with a young child joining the journey. It helped a lot that Birgitta was already weaned and did not need nursing when eating, but was already starting to eat solid food.”  

Yes, Saera had been with the silent sister for one and a half years, before escaping from Oldtown. More than enough time for Alys to give birth to Birgitta, and the girl to not be a infant in arms when Saera had “stolen” her away from a life of being a bastard who would spend her whole life in the Faith as a punishment for her very existence, all because Roy Connington had refused to wed Alys despite Birgitta having the same red hair as him and thus proving that he was the father. 

“At least Roy did not escape full punishment. Yes, father gave him the choice between joining the Night's Watch or ten years in exile upon hearing that he refused to marry Alys even after that Birgitta was born, but the aged uncle of Roy made a third alternative by literally dragging his nephew to the altar in the castle sept and had him marry another girl who he had deflowered and made pregnant. Even better, the bride was the only daughter of a landed knight who had married a wife who was from a wealthy merchant family and her uncle was the one who helped me and Birgitta to Lys.”

Gael had to hold in a laugh. Roy Connington was said to be “cursed with only daughters for the way he had rejected Lady Alys and their natural child”, since he had no son in his marriage despite siring two more children after the birth of his legal first born daughter and he had died a mere eight years after the scandal at the Red Keep, alongside Prince Aemon, in year 92 after the Conquest, at Tarth. In fact, his widow had even visited Gulltown to see Birgitta after the burial of Roy to see if there was something she could do for the girl beyond a future in the Faith, despite that natural children of a husband generally was not the responsibility of a wife. Yes, Saera, her own firstborn and Birgitta had already left Lys for Volantis by then, but Roy's widow had known that it was only thanks to the quick actions of her late uncle-in-law that her own first daughter had not suffered a similar fate as Birgitta, a bastard child literally abandoned by the father, and had set up a settlement where noble-born bastard daughters could learn legal trades to their own money and not be fully dependant on their noble father for a good marriage despite not being a legal child, a fate of becoming a servant in his household or joining the Faith to become septas. 

“With the way Maegelle behaved towards me, I had no intention to let the innocent child of my friend be ruined by her cruelty. She was no saint compared to us other sisters and I have no doubt that if she had lived longer, ever learning about Safiya or my own children, she would use them as justification for calling both of us whores.” 

“And yet there are both septas and silent sisters who break their vows of chastity, ending up with a bun in the oven themselves. Yes, those cases are rare, but not all of them are young and pretty young women upon becoming pregnant, who could be married wives in other scenarios. Some families only marry off the oldest or most pretty daughter, sending the rest to the Faith because a dowry for every surviving daughter could cost a lot. Some parents do not want to see a daughter wed to a man of lesser social status, or risk the unwed daughter becoming an unwanted economic burden on the family or getting caught in scandals which damages the family's social reputation if they remain at home. And then there are times of war, where not even holy women are safe from dangerous men…”  

Yes. It was not talked about much, but there was septas and silent sisters who had been raped in times of war, later giving birth to children sired by soldiers. Were they “whores” for being unable to escape that horrible event and having to give birth, if they failed to abort the child in the first weeks? No. And Maegelle had grown up, and become a septa in a peaceful era. It was very doubtful that she would be able to keep looking down on other women who did not act in a proper way, without having to face her own hypocrisy, if she had found herself in such a situation. Gael did not like to imagine this sort of scenario for Maegelle, especially back in year 92 when Maegelle had been in a Motherhouse somewhere along the coast of the Stormlands right as the Myrish invasion of Tarth happened, but the plain truth was that some people found out about reality and how it worked, the really hard way in a manner they could not ignore or ever forget afterwards. And far too often, people had a habit of thinking that bad things would never happen to themselves.

Once their talk had been finished, Saera punched her pillow with a closed fist, as to not harm her hand or risk waking up anyone at this time of the night. 

“Damn you, Maegelle! Acting all high and mighty, just like mother and father, thinking that you could judge others like that, just because you were serving the Seven-who-are-One by taking vows!” 

Even after all those years, the cruel words spoken by Maegelle still hurt emotionally. Daella had broken down in tears upon her older sister saying that the Faith would not accept her as a septa due to her inability to read or write properly, and for how often she mixed up the more complicated prayers to the Seven. And while not as oversensitive or delicate as Alysanne had believed her to be, Daella did not have the stomach needed for the unpleasant task of tendering to the dead, as often done by the silent sisters, which Saera had understand way too well during the one and a half years she had sent with them in Oldtown. 

Due to being away from Westeros by the time Viserra had died, Saera did not really know what Maegelle had said about their second-youngest sister, but she could really imagine something nasty like that Viserra “should be grateful” for Alysanne even allowing her to marry any man at all after supposedly being vain enough to imagine herself as the new wife of Baelon with some chance to become his queen consort since Aemon had only one child in Rhaenys, and tried to “acting like a whore to seduce” Baelon into marrying her. 

And her threat to Maegelle herself raising Birgitta, the innocent child of her friend Alys, to twist the truth about her origins and how Saera was to blame for it… 

That had been the last drop for Saera. And the one to really help her to escape that same night, after overhearing what horrible things Maegelle said to her younger sister? A elderly silent sister, who Saera had renamed Birgitta after to honor the old woman, rather than keep the girl's original name of Rose Hill which was a too open reveal of her birth as a bastard with a noble parent from the Westerlands, since Roy Connington refused to accept her as his and he came from the Stormlands where bastards was given the name Storm. And Rose was just…well, not what Saera would call a plain or boring name personally, quite the opposite actually, but in her eyes it had felt more like Birgitta originally being named for her red hair, since red roses were quite common flowers in the gardens of noble castles and keeps. 

“No, I am really glad that Maegelle died from greyscale 24 years ago. In a way, I doubt that she even understood why mother was miserable in her marriage to father compared to the early years when they were young and in love with each other, because Maegelle had not been living under the same roof as them since she was ten years and having never gotten married herself thanks to her vow of chastity when becoming a septa, I am unsure of how much she understood that a marriage can become a living hell for various reasons. Both for men and women if there is no way out besides the spouse dying.” 

But Saera did not want to think more of this. She had her own life now, and seven wonderful children to love and care for. If Gael ever needed her help in some way, Saera would do her best to give it as long as it was not something impossible, because Gael was the only sister left alive and had managed to break free from the suffocating chains of being a Targaryen princess already in the cradle thanks to being born as a Ice Witch. And as far as Saera knew, Gael had never fallen for Maegelle's two-faced nature even with their sister being her tutor about the Seven-who-are-One in the south. Maybe it was an instinct from having an Ice Dragon as her spirit animal, and Frostfyre warning the young Gael that Maegelle could be dangerous, just like Jaehaerys and Alysanne could have committed kinslaying of their 13-year-old, youngest child so long ago. 

Or simply Gael learning from the Umber family, her foster parents, that she would find out more about someone's true character with the passing of time, as they would reveal themselves by their behavior and she needed to compare what people said vs what they actually do.  

Sheltered from reality and the cruel side of the world? No, Gael had never been that, and if she somehow would travel back in time to meet her sisters back when they were young, in those fateful years of their youth? No doubt that she would spirit away both Daella, Saera and Viserra to foster families that would love them, and protect the three princesses from Jaehaerys and Alysanne under some creative use of disguise. Getting herself as a baby away from the nursery in the Red Keep may be a little trickier, but she would still find a way to make House Umber her own foster family once again. Most likely, Maegelle would be left in the Faith thanks to already having sworn her vows as a septa by the time Gael was born, and Alyssa had been pregnant in the early months with Daemon by the time baby Gael had her first reveal of her ice powers, basically making the second Targaryen princess unlikely to imagine any other life for herself than as a sister-wife to her brother and being the favorite daughter of Alysanne by that point. 

Chapter Text

No one was surprised that Rhaenyra tried to slander her half-brothers and their betrothals once it became widely known that the three Targaryen-Hightower princes had gotten future wives chosen for them. 

“Seriously, Princess, is this really the best way you can think of preventing your brothers from becoming even more of a legal challenge to the Iron Throne?” 

Most of the attempted slander could quickly be traced back to Mysaira, partly because some of the slander was heard first in the brothels on the Street of Silk with some very implied sexual content, and well, sailors from Dragonstone indirectly revealed that the Lyseni former dance girl had basically replaced the late Daemon with Rhaenyra as her protector. 

“Of course a former prostitute would take some of the old whispers about Daemon and try to remold it with the three princes.”

Few among the spies for the Sisterhood in the capital were surprised that most of the more sexual-natured slander focused on Aegon. He was the oldest prince Queen Alicent had given birth to, closest in age to Rhaenyra with only ten years between them, and he was at an age where he would likely soon start to notice girls in a different manner than before. 

Other forms of slander tried to paint Prince Aemond as growing more violent after losing his eye, that he somehow had been affected by his physical injury even worse than he really was, and Prince Daeron as slow of mind. 

“Are the Princess honestly trying to paint her middle half-brother as a younger copy of the worst traits Daemon had? And her youngest one as a male copy of what is said about her own maternal grandmother, Princess Daella Targaryen who married into House Arryn?” 

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But what really made Rhaenyra a laughing stock across Westeros, was the way she now tried to arrange betrothals for her Strong boys, as the trio now was called to use a loophole in what Viserys had said about openly calling his grandsons for bastards: 

With Aegon betrothed to Sophie Reyne, Aemond to Albina Bracken and Daeron to Elina Norridge, Rhaenyra seemed to believe that she needed to get her own sons betrothed as well, and preferable to daughters of even more powerful families in various parts of Westeros. 

That she aimed first for the Lord Paramount families, and later their most powerful bannermen families, was no surprise. 

House Stark rejected her offer of Jacaerys getting a Stark bride, with the reveal that “Sara Snow” was just a fictional character rather than a living bastard daughter of Lord Stark who could be legitimated as part of the progress to be a acceptable match and there currently was no legal-born Stark daughter existing unless you counted some adult women who was distantly related to the current Lord Stark and most of them already being married with children. 

Lady Paramounts Hildegard Baratheon and Jeyne Arryn blocked a similar attempt from Rhaenyra to their families, by simply acting faster than the Princess and betrothing Hildegard's older daughter Ingegerd to Ronald, the Arryn heir, and Ingegerd was only three years older than the five-year-old Arryn boy, a prefectly acceptage age difference in a such match even if it usually was the other way around. Both women and their husbands had a daughter in the cradle since mere months ago, but both little Astrid Baratheon and Beatrice Arryn was far too young for this sort of arrangement about their future, and no one would accept Gorm Baratheon or one of his two brothers Alf and Knud as a male consort to the Strong boys. 

House Lannister also refused the Strong boys for the two heiresses Cerelle and Tyshara, the two oldest legal daughters of Lord Jason, on the valid grounds of that Rhaenyra had not handed the “Driftmark incident” in a very good manner, as well showing how her demands for a “sharp questioning” over something her Strong boys had started, did raise the question of whatever a daughter-in-law would be safe from a similar event by speaking up against the Strong boy who became her legal husband. Besides, Jason had just arranged a Mallister bridegroom for Cerelle because he did not have a son yet, and Tyshara would have a a Royce husband from one of Rhea's nephews. 

Lord Grover Tully had no living daughters or granddaughters to offer as a bride, and both his niece and great-niece from an already dead brother had both joined the Faith prior to this. 

The similarly aged Lord Matthos Tully had no true-born female relatives in the right age unless Rhaenyra was willing to accept a daughter-in-law who would be several years older than her sons and Rhaenyra seemed to have learned a tiny lesson from the embarrassment about first believing that Sara Snow was a real person, because she refused a offer to have Viserys first legitimate one of the Flower girls found at Highgarden a proof of being sired by one of the Tyrells and then make that girl become a future princess by birth. 

Hypocrite, was the thought of many when this came out in hushed whispers. Passing off her own bastards as the supposed legal sons of Laenor despite them looking like miniatures of the late Harwin Strong, and then rejecting a fellow bastard girl as unworthy to become a possible future Crown Princess and later Queen Consort? 

House Velaryon seemed to have a small chance in getting another family member becoming royalty by marriage and birth with how things were going, but Laena found her Braavosi in-laws firmly refusing to have her twin daughters Baela and Rhaena betrothed to their claimed first-cousins, despite that Rhaenyra preferred her sister-in-law for the role as a mother-in-law to one or even two of her own sons.  

Eventually, Rhaenyra managed to get her hands on one legal-born girl of an ancient bloodline and the right age, for Jacaerys: Alysanne Blackwood, herself only a year older than the “Velaryon prince” she now was betrothed to. 

“Lord Blackwood is an ambitious fool who makes his legal daughter a laughing stock by making her the future wife to a royal bastard. If Rhaenyra somehow does admit to the Strong boys being sired by Harwin and therefore not a legal claimant to the crown at all…the girl is going to be so humiliated and have that marriage taint her name for all time.” 

“The Blackwoods are following the Old Gods, is Rhaenyra honestly thinking that this may not lead to a possible conflict with the Faith in some way, if a such daughter-in-law of hers becomes a Queen consort…?” 

Few doubted that the infamous Bracken-Blackwood feud, which the Sisterhood was well-known to openly view as a childish and very immature bickering between the two families, risked to make things worse about the succession the moment King Viserys had drawn his last breath, now when a both Bracken girl and a Blackwood girl were betrothed to princes in the royal family, and in two different factors about the crown.