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Chapter Text

As Daemon stood in front of the heart tree and stared at its bleeding wounds, marks so callously made by his blade, he could not help but bitterly curl his lips at the similarities.

The old mangled tree stood eternally bleeding and alone in a castle hollowed out by war and time, yet still unflinching as new wounds were added by an uncaring hand.

He felt the tree’s wounds as if his own. Some still bleeding, some scabbed over, some even scarred over, yet all still aching. He felt that gaping hollowness of Harrenhal in his very soul. His heart an empty shell, bruised and stomped on so many, many times and then rendered asunder into a million tiny pieces, only for them to be then set aflame. Turned to nothing but ashes. Was his heart even a shell anymore? He felt nothing but a gaping emptiness in the center of his chest.

Daemon lowered his head and closed his eyes, so very tired.

He felt as if he lived a hundred lifetimes.

He felt as if he lived too long and did too much and yet somehow never enough.

Somehow, he was never enough.

He took a deep, shaky breath and tried not to think of the final betrayal.

The final betrayer. His Queen. His wife. His niece.

His jaw ached from the effort not to scream.

The one person that he loved unconditionally since the moment she had first drawn breath. The one he had believed loved him in turn.

First, she had ordered him from her side, and then… Then madness had possessed her, and she had ordered him back in the same breath she ordered the death of the other dragonriders, in the same breath she assured his own death.

A humorless chuckle escaped him. He would have been overjoyed that she wished to have him by her side, if only it was not jealousy. If only it was not madness that guided her actions and rid them of all allies, of all hope of winning this accursed war, of his children surviving it.

Oh, how like Viserys she turned out to be.

Both sending him from their side when all he ever wanted was to protect them.

Both putting their trust in anyone but him.

Both believing the worst of him.

Both betraying him.

He shook his head harshly and walked away from the tree.

In the end, it fell to him to clean up the mess their lack of faith in him had wrought, and the ever-reviled Rogue Prince would do his duty. Whatever may the history remember of him, let it be that he died for his Queen, securing her reign, securing her life, and ridding the Riverlands of the plague that was the Kinslayer.

And in doing so, let him give Vhagar the honorable death she deserved, rather than the shameful existence the Kinslayer reduced her to.

Would that he could erase the Kinslayer and his very name from history, so the presence of his name would not taint the names of Vhagar’s previous riders by mere association.

Would that Vhagar’s last acts were not the burning of defenseless villages.

Would that she lived her last years as they did in those happier days when Laena was her rider, traveling the known world and racing through the open skies with Caraxes.

Would that it would not fall to Caraxes to bring an end to his once faithful companion.

He closed his eyes in pain.

Would that Laena never died.

His beautiful wife.

Full of light. Full of fight. Full of love.

She had believed in him, in them, and paid the ultimate price for it. He had meant to show her the world, to give her the moon, yet settled for Pentos when she had given him their girls, and they became his world. It had not been enough though and his desire for a son had cost her her life and with her death, the light went out of the world. 

His unseeing eyes watched the sun slowly move across the sky while he stood in the godswood, contemplating the many ways he failed his wife and his daughters. The day seemed to pass away as Daemon remained lost in his memories, until a rumble of thunder startled him out of his black thoughts.

If he had any doubts of its origin, Caraxes’ happy trill in response immediately put them to rest.

Vhagar.

He made to leave the godswood before pivoting and returning to the weirwood.

He had put thirteen bloody gashes in it. It would not do to leave without recompense.

Daemon knelt in front of the tree with a glare and bared his arm in defiance. He slashed a shallow gash in his forearm and let the blood drip on the ground. As he got up after watching the gnarled roots drink it up, he spoke with venom, “My blood for yours. Make of it what you will.”

He turned sharply and as he walked out of the godswood, he was smiling.

It was time to meet his death. It was time to mete it out in turn.

Daemon was eager for battle as he climbed atop his faithful Blood Wyrm. It would not be long now. The dragon was eager to play as well. He did not yet realize that this would be the final game they would play together.

Caraxes roared in triumph as he leapt into the air while Vhagar was still collecting herself, issuing a mocking challenge. Many a race started the same. Yet this time, Vhagar responded with a vicious snap that sent a spike of confusion through Caraxes.

Daemon sympathized. There had been a time not long ago when he would not have believed that Vhagar or her riders could ever mean him harm. Yet that time was gone and the Kinslayer now infected the mind of the great she-dragon. It was time to end it.

And so the battle raged.

It was with triumph in his heart and a smile on his face that he leapt from Blood Wyrm’s back, Dark Sister pointed downward, unerringly piercing the Kinslayer’s single shocked eye.

It was with a laugh that he was thrown off Vhagar’s back, as she let out an agonized shriek and tumbled towards the lake.

Daemon fell through fire, through water, and into darkness.

And Daemon was free .

Chapter Text

The darkness was a relief. 

There was a peace in it, and there was a warmth in it that he could not recall ever experiencing in life.

He drew himself towards it and wrapped himself in it, seeking to become one with it.

He would bask for an eternity in this wondrous feeling.

Gradually, he became aware of a softness surrounding him in the darkness, and he was filled with a deep contentment, warmth, and light encompassing his entire being. 

The darkness became lighter and fuller but no less welcome for it.

An eternity ended too soon with the abruptness of twin impacts into his back that stole his breath.

Breath?

Why would breath concern him?

And his back?

When did he become aware of his body in this tranquil existence?

No matter. He would not abandon this hard-won feeling for the world.

He snuggled himself deeper into the warmth and the softness and was at peace.

There was an outrage in twin shrieks of “Kepa!” in the distance, and the sound filled his heart to bursting. The sound of soft giggling soon joined the youthful voices, and the darkness trembled.

He felt his head being lifted before unceremoniously being thrown down with yet another outraged “Kepa!”. The darkness around him started to shake uncontrollably, and the air filled with laughter, and yet he dared not open his eyes. He embraced the darkness more firmly.

“Daemon!”

There was no outrage in this voice, only warmth of amusement.

His breath froze in his lungs.

A warm hand pressed to his cheek and a thumb caressed his cheekbone.

“Daemon, you need to wake up.”

Why? He liked it here.

He pulled the warmth to himself, but it pushed him away.

“Daemon!” There was an exasperation beyond the amusement in the voice now.

A hope started to bloom in his chest, and he finally resolved to open his eyes.

He stared up at the face that greeted him in wonder. 

He raised his hand to her cheek with disbelief, his caress light as a feather.

“Laena.”

Confusion clouded her eyes and she cocked her head to the side, a single eyebrow scrunching the tiniest bit. She lifted her hand from his cheek and he mourned the loss before it was placed over his own hand on hers.

She gave him a soft smile and opened her mouth to speak. “Daemon, is something the matter?”

He gave her a tremulous smile before replying. “No, nothing’s the matter. All is as it should be.”

Her smile widened as he brought her face down to press a soft kiss to her lips. He pressed another, deeper one as she melted against him, and all was well in truth for a time.

That is until twin sounds of disgust reached his ears and “Kepa!” and “Muña!” sounded with a decisive whine.

He parted from his wife’s lips with great reluctance, and she laughed at him for it.

“Send the pests away,” he breathed out against her lips.

She laughed harder. “They’re your pests.”

“I know, but they listen to their mother better.”

She shook her head at him and shoved him. “Up, Daemon. Up!”

He grumbled to himself as he sat up in their bed and the twins seized the opportunity to clamber onto the bed beside their parents, finally quieting as they did so, staring at their mother suddenly shy.

Rhaena, ever the quieter one, seemed to gather her courage first and extended her arm to lightly brush her fingers against her mother’s belly. She raised her face to her mother’s, a question clear in her eyes. Laena’s smile turned very soft again as she nodded.

The twins launched themselves forward, silver locks bouncing, laying their heads on their mother’s belly with incredible care, laying still with eyes closed and breathing silently for long moments. Daemon looked on dumbly as Laena’s hands combed through their daughters’ hair.

“When will he finally be here?”

“It will not be long now, sweetheart.”

No, it would not be long now. It would be a whole eternity.

Daemon closed his eyes and took a moment to center himself.

He understood now what point in time this was. His afterlife eternally the time when they were the happiest. In Pentos, just before the labor that would kill Laena, happy and expectant of the new child to come, of their small family to finally grow again. After, they had plans to leave for Driftmark and High Tide, where they would live with their children’s grandparents and where Rhaena and the babe may hope to gain a new egg.

That never came to be.

The babe never came and Laena returned home only in a coffin, the sniveling Kinslayer stealing her mourning mount.

Knowing what he knew now, it was a bittersweet time. He would be grateful to spend an eternity in it.

A sad smile graced his lips as he opened his eyes to gaze at his girls. 

As Laena extended her arm to include him in the small pile, he allowed himself to be pulled forward into his wife and laid an arm across his daughters’ backs. The last vestiges of melancholy left him.

Yes, he would be content to spend an eternity here, with them.

He turned his head to press his face against his wife’s breasts, rubbing his nose across them teasingly. She breathed out a quietly scandalized “Daemon!” as his hand joined in the mischief out of sight. She bit her lip, flushing prettily, and resisted squirming under his ministrations so as not to disturb their ignorant children. 

She fought so valiantly, this wonderful wife of his. But alas, he was no ordinary adversary. He nibbled on a bud as it came into his range, clothed as it was, and Laena’s whole body jerked, dislodging the two silver heads still resting on her belly. Pale curls bounced around as the startled eyes jumped from parent to parent in confusion, suddenly alert as their pillow scrambled off the bed hastily.

Like the battle-hardened commander that he was, he took what opportunity presented itself and hauled the two off the bed, each under one arm, and carried them to the door, calling for their nurse along the way. Once she was within reach, he deposited them in her care and hurried to secure the door before they could get back to it.

His task completed, he turned to face the unimpressed stare of his wife, brow raised and arms folded beneath her breasts. Only the slightest curl in a corner of her delicious lips betraying any trace of amusement. Daemon gave her his best look of pure innocence. Laena’s exasperated huff and rolling of her eyes was the reward for his efforts.

“Why, whatever is the matter, dearest wife?”

He watched in helpless admiration as she let out another laugh and shook her head.

“Why, husband mine, as it happens, I am fiercely hungry, and you just locked the door.”

He shook a finger at her. “My, my, that happens to be exactly why I locked the door.”

The laughter was doing interesting things with her breasts clad in only the thin nightshirt, and he was enchanted.

“Hungry for food !” was what Laena managed to force out in between her peals of laughter.

Well, even the afterlife would have its small disappointments, it would seem.

He waited for her to calm herself, back leaned against the door and watching her. Impossible though it might be, she was even more stunning than he remembered.

Once she wiped her face of the tears that were spilled in her merriment, she gracefully glided to him, and raised her hands to frame his face, gently grabbing him by his ears to lower his head.

“You are incorrigible, dear husband,” she breathed against his lips, teasing. “But I crave food above all else now.”

As she rocked back on her heels and winked at him, she had mischief in her eyes. “Maybe we can have our fun once the children are asleep.”

Chapter Text

Staring out of the window, a slight breeze caressed Daemon’s face while Laena’s maids helped her with her morning ablutions. A sweet fragrance of trees blooming in the spacious garden of the magister’s manse was carried on it along with bird song, strengthening the sense of peace that had settled over Daemon like a warm blanket ever since his death.

He stole a glance at his wife again, letting his gaze linger on her naked form, and then turned his eyes back outside rather than chance being caught staring. Laena’s maids would be quite scandalized. Amused by his own thoughts, he started to whistle a rather bawdy tune that he had only ever heard in the inns of Driftmark. 

“Daemon, stop it!” His wife clearly did not have much appreciation for his whistling.

“Would you prefer me singing?”

“Daemon!”

He let out an affected, put-upon sigh and threw a wounded look in Laena’s direction.

Everyone’s a critic.

Suddenly, a horrible thought occurred to him and Daemon could no longer remain still. He pushed away from the sill, already moving through the room, gathering his belt and fastening it when he began speaking. “Dress comfortably. It seems a perfect day to spend in the garden with the children. I shall inform the magister that we shall not be at home for visitors today.”

“ You shall inform him?”

Daemon’s determined steps faltered at the question. That was rather uncommon of him, was it not? He shook his head to get rid of the useless thought and strode over to Laena instead with a smile. “Indeed, I shall take a leave of my busy schedule and do so myself,” and he leaned over to press a kiss on her forehead before taking his leave. “I will also bring the girls back here. You just wait for us.”

Out of the rooms, Daemon could breathe freely again. He maintained a brisk pace until he could duck into a rarely used hallway. There, he blindly grasped the wall for support as he finally let the thoughts percolate.

Did she know? Did she remember? Did she blame him, as he did himself?

He sank down to sit on the ground and let his head fall back against the stone.

They were both dead. Laena for far longer than Daemon himself. Did she remember her horrible death? Did she know that in just a few short days hereafter she would be torn apart by a babe that would not come out? Did she know and spend the time here constantly reminded of it? Was this most precious time for Daemon a constant torture for her?

He could not risk asking her. He could not risk breaking the fragile illusion of peace, of safety, of happiness, that Laena’s ignorance created.

Daemon took in a trembling breath and let it out slowly. And then again and again until his chest was no longer squeezed in a vice-like grip.

It was too horrible to bear thinking about, so Daemon would not. Over the years he had gained much practice in burying things that were too much to bear so deep in the vaults of his mind that sometimes he even forgot them for a time. Sometimes, he could even remember his grandmother with fondness. The world seemed a much kinder place to Daemon with those vaults firmly locked.

Mind made up and calm again, Daemon rose, straightened his clothes, and went in search of the magister. He needed to address the matter of excusing them from their host’s presence for an entire day swiftly, but as politely as possible. The man’s manse was a place where the majority of Daemon’s happiest memories had been created. There was no need for any unpleasantness.  

His twin treasures were valiantly resisting their nurses’ attempts at wrangling them into something presentable when he came upon them. The resignation on the nurses’ faces at his appearance gave enough of an indication as to how successful they believed they would be now with the great distraction that was Daemon there. He was not about to prove them wrong.

The sudden lack of fighting spirit in their torturers brought the twins up short, leaving them strangely directionless in a moment of stillness. It was a rare sight, and he fought the urge to laugh at their confused little faces.

Nevertheless, the pause did not last long as Baela quickly identified the source of the unexpected victory, launching herself onto him without a shred of doubt that he would catch her. His breath caught at such blind trust as he held her in one arm. Rhaena pouted at Baela, leaving her behind, and stared at him imploringly. He carefully bent his knees and offered his other arm to her. Rhaena’s smile was blinding as she put her arms around his neck and hid her face in it. 

As he rested his chin on her soft hair, he addressed the maids, “My children will spend the day with Lady Laena and me in the garden. Please have blankets, pillows, and refreshments waiting for us. After that, you are all dismissed until the evening.”

The arms around his neck tightened almost imperceptibly, and he needed not look at Baela to know she would be sporting an imperious look. 

Finding Laena ready in their bedchamber and waiting as instructed was frankly a surprise to him. She lounged on their made bed and smiled at him beatifically. He approached her with wariness honed by many battles and went to his knees to unload his cargo. As rare as moments of stillness were in his children, Laena’s biddability was rarer still. 

He remained on his knees long enough to capture Laena’s full attention and for her eyes to darken. Then he allowed his lips to stretch in a slow grin and spoke in a deferential tone, placing a hand over his breast. “Your humble servant is here to serve you today, my empress.”

Laena blinked at him in incomprehension for a stunned moment, which was just enough for him to spring back to his feet, scoop her up in his arms, and start for the door. “And as everyone knows, the empress is always carried by her humble servants.” 

He fought a wince as an outraged shriek sounded too close to his ear. “Daemon! You just made that up!”

“Oh, did I, my empress? You must forgive your humble servant.”

There were giggles following closely behind them, and Laena gave up her futile struggle to address them instead. Her voice carried a weight of ancient wisdom as she spoke over his shoulder. “Your poor father is insane. 'Tis all the flying, all good sense was swept away.”

“Do not listen to her. If it was all the flying, she would be the airhead between the two of us.” He cursed himself upon speaking, realizing too late that he objected to the wrong part of her statement, as was immediately obvious by the shaking fit his response provoked in her. He wisely kept his mouth shut for the remained of the trip.

Items he ordered were already arranged in the shade of one of the larger trees, several servants waiting close by. He gave them an appreciative smile and thanked them for their efforts, dismissing them firmly. He had little desire for any outsiders to intrude on a perfect day with his family. 

And it would be perfect. They would break their fast on the many various fruits, juices running down their fingers. They would lunch on plates of cheeses, cold cuts and bread. And they would sup on whatever was left over. They would chase each other through the shrubbery as Laena looked on, with a content smile. They would speak stories of Old Valyria and their own childhoods as the twins listened in rapt attention. They would softly sing old Valyrian lullabies at naptime as the children lay tired out across their laps.

As the sun slowly sank on the horizon and Daemon rose to take his sleepy daughters to their beds, he pinned his wife in place with a stern glare. “The empress is not to move before her humble servant returns for her.”

She rolled her eyes at him and snorted. “The empress shall await her most imperious servant.”

He grinned at her over the twins’ heads and dashed away.

There was not even a peep of protest out of them as he laid them down in their beds and tucked them in. He stood over them, heart full, for a long moment before returning to their waiting mother.

Chapter Text

Laena gave him a languid smile as he returned to her and allowed him to pick her up in his arms with no complaint. She rested her head on his chest and let her fingers play with the tie of his shirt. “This was a good idea, thank you. I did not even realize I needed it.” 

He kissed the top of her head in response and carried her to their chambers in silence.

Her mood must have shifted, for she moved in his hold, unlacing his shirt, and the fingers of one hand slipped inside it to brush along his collarbone, the fingers of the other teasing the back of his neck. Daemon fought not to pick up the pace as her lips brushed the skin of his throat. As her tongue came out to play, his body jerked and he felt her smile. He was near ready to beg for mercy by the time their chambers were in sight.

He strode in and deposited Laena on the bed before returning to lock the door.

“Why, husband, are you hungry?” There was a mocking tone in her voice that gave Daemon pause. Why? Did she not think he would follow through? Then again, Daemon never would in life, not with this pregnancy. 

After Baela and Rhaena had been born, weak as they had been, Laena had been weaker still. It had taken many moons before she truly recovered, and more still before the healers had allowed her to return to her wifely duties. When they had finally taken to laying together again, there had been nothing to show for it until now. Daemon had been terrified of causing her harm again when they had learned of the babe, refusing to succumb to his desires until she would be safely delivered. 

They had never lain together again, no matter the amount of teasing both of them had done.

But this was no life, and it had been a long time since Daemon had lain with a woman, much less Leana, so he allowed a slow predatory smile to stretch his lips as he approached her. And his wife appeared confused but pleased with the turn of events when he dragged her to the edge of the bed by her thighs and pressed a firm kiss to her lips. 

When he proceeded to work on ridding her of her gown, all the while peppering kisses along the column of her throat, her hands reached for the ties of his breeches. He caught them and pulled them away, pressing kisses to her knuckles. “Let me worship you, my beautiful wife.”   

The peace of Daemon’s sleep was rudely interrupted by violent shaking. By someone violently shaking him. He raised a hand to swat away the annoyance and had it slapped away in response.

“Daemon! Get up!” The urgency in the voice of his wife was clear, but it was the trace of fear in it as well that truly roused him.

His hand met with wetness as he pushed himself up, and he frowned. “Did you spill a drink? Should I rouse maids to change the bedding?”

His wife shook him again. “No! Daemon, focus! The babe is coming!”

No, it wasn’t. Daemon knew it would be a few days yet, and so he told her. “Don’t be silly. It’s not the time yet.” 

He dumbly stared at the spot where her balled-up fist hit him. 

“Daemon! I think I am the better equipped of the two of us to know whether the babe is coming or not!”

Horror slowly spread across his being as he watched her face contort in pain, her white-knuckled fists gripping the blanket. Breath died in his chest, his ears starting to ring. 

He scrambled off the bed, only for his feet to tangle in the clothes on the ground and fall. He started for the door as he rose, only to be stopped by the pained voice of his wife. 

“Clothes, Daemon.” 

He turned to stare at her in confusion. What was she worrying about cleaning the scattered clothes up now? 

“You’re naked,” she uttered through gritted teeth.

He fought to pull his breeches on quickly with suddenly clumsy fingers and made for the door, only for it to refuse to open. He pulled on it some more for good measure, but it remained stubbornly closed.

A helpless laugh sounded from the bed, and Laena’s voice was full of fond exasperation. “You locked the door.”

Making it out of their chambers without further embarrassment, Daemon ran for the entrance of the grand manse, dispatching one of the guards there to collect a healer and another to the servants’ quarters to rouse them. Then, he rushed back to his wife’s side.

He found her standing next to the bed, leaning against a nightstand. “What in the gods’ name are you doing?!” 

She glared at him and snapped, “Getting a damned nightgown! I will not birth my child in my nameday suit!” 

He bent over to grab his discarded shirt off the ground and strode over to her side. “Raise your arms. This will suffice.” 

She gave him a scandalized look he was utterly unmoved by, but eventually she relented with an adorable pout.

He lifted her back onto the bed and then joined her there to arrange pillows behind her back. He held her as another wave of pain hit her, her screams sounding over the sounds of the rousing household.

After the screams cut off, she spoke in a breathless voice. “Daemon, I think the babe is coming.” 

He gave her an irritated glance, and his answer was drier than the desert. “Yes, I believe you now.”

She bit down on her lip as she fought off another scream and breathed short, shallow breaths. She squeezed his hand near hard enough to break. “I need to push.” That meant nothing to Daemon, and she seemed to realize that quick enough. “This babe is not waiting on anyone.” She screamed again, even worse than before, and continued once she regained her breath. “You need to pull him out.”

Dread settled in the pit of Daemon’s stomach as he moved down the bed to come to rest between Laena’s bent legs. He could already see the top of a blonde head, with more becoming visible at an alarming rate. He rushed forward to support the emerging head when another great wave of pain struck Laena, and she bellowed out a great scream, mirrored by a thundering roar of Vhagar in the distance. 

The child’s body slipped from her body all at once into Daemon’s waiting hands and as Laena’s screams subsided, wails filled the room.

Daemon brought the slippery bundle to his chest, afraid it would slide out of his trembling hands, never looking away, too afraid he might blink, and it would be gone.

A babe.

The weak voice of his wife sounded from a distance. “What is it, Daemon?”

He responded with a whisper full of awe. “A babe.”

Somehow, she gathered whatever strength she had left to kick him.

He shuffled over on the bed to bring the babe into her outstretched hands, and he brought his arms around Laena, laying his cheek on the top of her head as she cradled it gingerly.

“A boy.” There were tears on her cheeks and in her voice. “We have a boy. What shall we name him?”

Daemon had no idea. For so long he had dreamt of a son of his own to name Baelon, but the babe meant to carry that name had died in Mysaria’s belly thanks to his brother. He had wished for a boy with that name still when he had wed Laena, but then the twins had been born, and the name had gone to Baela. He knew he would not have two children of the same name. After, a son by Laena had been such a fragile dream that he had not dared to think of a name so as not to tempt the gods. They had never discussed it. He knew what names it would not be now, but he was no closer to what it would be. 

“What do you think, Laena?”

She turned her head to him at that. “Do you think he looks like an Aemon?” There was a shy hope in her voice.

He looked at the babe and yes. He did look like an Aemon.

There was a bustle outside their chambers that spilled inside while they marveled at their son. A stream of maids entered, lighting more candles as they came, followed by a round man covered in sweat.

When the man took notice of the blood-covered threesome on the bed, he cried out in dismay. “You have not tied off the cord! Out! Out with you, man! The aspects of the birth must be removed from the lady’s body, and you may not be here for it!”

Still in a daze, Daemon let himself be guided out of the rooms without a word of protest to slide down the wall right next to the door.

He was no longer so sure this was an afterlife.

Chapter Text

As sunlight teased Laena’s eyes open, she smiled at the sleeping face of her husband. The poor thing resisted her seductions for the entirety of her pregnancy, only to finally surrender the fight just hours before her labor. He had clearly not yet regained his wits by the time she shook him awake hours later. She firmly planned to tease him mercilessly as soon as laughter no longer hurt. 

Her smile widened when her gaze moved to the basket resting between them, their son sleeping in it. Once they let Daemon back inside their chambers, he refused to let either Laena or their son out of his reach. And so even though a cradle had been moved to their chambers, a basket had to be brought and lined with pillows for their son to sleep in. It was as though her husband feared them suddenly disappearing. Laena feared waking and finding their son had been a dream too, so she said nothing, quietly grateful for the arrangement.

She hesitantly reached out to lightly brush her fingers along the pale hair on top of Aemon’s head to confirm to herself that he was truly there. Tears of joy threatened to rise to her eyes again. He was finally there.

It was with great shame that she remembered the birth of the twins. 

She had been so proud. So proud to have caught herself such a handsome and renowned dragonrider, a man so widely desired and yet caught by her, who many believed already in her dotage. A man that had killed her wasteful drunkard of a betrothed so he could claim her. A dangerous man willing to show her the world and treat her as an equal.

And she had been proud to fall pregnant so quickly, and so proud to suffer no difficulties in her very first pregnancy despite her age. She had been so sure that her triumph would be crowned by providing her husband the long-awaited son. When a daughter had been pulled from her body, cries weak, she tasted a bitter taste of failure. 

The twins had been born weak, unlikely to live more than a few moons. Laena herself had been left ravaged by their birth and unable to care for them for a long time. She had been grateful, for she had had little wish to see the undeniable proof of her failure. It had been Daemon, who brought them to her, who cared for them and never showed any disappointment in their sex. It had been Daemon, who eventually brought her out of the blackness that she had fallen into. She wished to make up for it to him for so long, and now her efforts had been finally rewarded.   

She gave her son’s soft head a last careful caress and shifted her attention back to her sleeping husband.

Something changed in him ever since he woke up the previous day. There was a certain lightness to him the day before that she had never witnessed before. It was as if a great weight had been removed from him, and nothing and no one beyond the four of them mattered or even existed. 

She laid a hand on his cheek and watched as his lips curled in a smile as she brushed a thumb along his cheekbone. Eyes still closed, he breathed out her name. 

“It is a good thing that you do not call out a different name. I might have to set Vhagar on you otherwise,” she told him. 

A chuckle escaped him, and he opened his eyes to look into hers. “There is little need to dream of other women, when the most beautiful one in the world already lies by my side.” 

A warm glow surrounded her heart at his words, and a warmth rose in her cheeks. “I am hardly beautiful now.” 

He took the hand lying on his cheek into his and spoke in a whisper. “You will always be to me.”

Difficult as it was to move, she still had to lean over to kiss him as her eyes filled with tears. There was awe in his eyes. She first spotted it the previous morn as well. She had never doubted her husband’s care for her, but he rarely spoke his feelings, which left her uncertain often enough.

He must have sensed something in her, for he sat up after she finished her kiss, eyes turning somber and taking her hands into his. “Laena, I… I realized something.” The eyes filled with anguish bore into hers. “I don’t… I don’t remember if… You do know… don’t you?” There was a note of desperation by the time he finished.  

A sigh escaped her. “Daemon, I have no idea what it is you are trying to say.”

He turned a haunted gaze somewhere over her shoulder and heaved out a great sigh. After he seemingly collected himself, he looked at her with determination and spoke carefully. “Laena, I realized that I do not remember whether I ever told you that I loved you. But you do know, do you not? Because I do love you.” He looked at her pleadingly.

She looked at him for a moment without truly taking in the words he spoke before breaking into uncontrollable sobs. She had not known that. She had hoped. She had convinced herself. She had believed. But she had not known.

He let out an anguished cry and pulled her into his chest. “Have I truly never told you?”

She shook her head in his wet nightshirt. “But… Surely I have shown you.” He sounded aghast.

When she spoke, she spoke wetly. “Some things need to be said to truly be known, Daemon.” 

There was a moment of hesitation before he spoke again. “Do you then?” Then, rushing to clarify, “Do you love me?”

She pushed away from his embrace to frame his face with her hands and let her heart show in her eyes. “More than life itself.”

Chapter Text

Daemon had no plans to leave either his wife or his son, and he knew well enough that soon the door to their chambers would burst open, and their daughters would fall upon them.

Laena woke from time to time to smile at him and the babe and touch his downy head reverently, only to fall asleep again, her sleep surprisingly light after her ordeal. She woke each time the babe let out even the softest of cries, and fed him at her own breast. She had refused to arrange for a wet nurse ahead of time, and refused to send for one now. 

Daemon could well understand. Their son was too precious a gift to hand into a stranger’s hands.

It was much later than usual that the twins entered their little bubble of contentment, and they did so without the accompanying bustle that he remembered so fondly. They entered carefully, their faces hopeful, voices reverent. “Do we have a brother now? Truly?”

He gave them a soft smile. “Yes, truly. Come meet Aemon, your brother. He could not wait to meet you two any longer.” 

They gave him matching beaming smiles and looked at their brother with awe.

“He is so small. Like a doll,” breathed Rhaena. “Can I touch his hair?” 

He let out a quiet chuckle and nodded. It would appear that when it came to the babe, she would be the braver one. 

It would be a sennight before Laena was allowed to rise and take more than just a few steps, their family congregating each day in the bedchamber, around the bed containing Laena and the babe, the twins still docile.

Daemon regaled them with old Valyrian tales or sing lullabies, keeping his voice soft at all times, ever-mindful of his sleepy wife and the new, mostly-sleeping babe. And yet, by the time Laena was allowed out of bed with only minor restrictions, her mind seemed to be firmly made up, allowing no opposition. 

They would leave Pentos for Driftmark within days, and they would do so on their dragons.

Daemon was far from content to allow his wife her folly. Her body was not yet fully mended, yet she intended to spend hours in a dragon’s hard saddle. She would not hear of delaying, so he arranged for her saddle to be made comfortable for her situation. She would not hear of parting from their son in case he needed feeding, so Daemon arranged for a special harness to be made for him to be safely carried even when being fed on dragonback.

The twins would travel with Daemon on Caraxes, the much-smaller Moondancer following behind them. Their household and the many treasures they had gathered over the years, far too many to carry on a dragon with a lively set of twins, would travel on their own, on a ship departing before them.

Laena seemed to care not that she would be leaving her home of several years behind, and Daemon certainly did not, for he had left it behind long ago. Her only thoughts were of Driftmark and reuniting with her parents and her brother. Her thoughts were on causing mischief, he knew. 

Laena had forbidden him from sending a message informing her family of their son’s birth or their impending homecoming. She demanded many and more things of Daemon those days, things he was helpless to refuse her. His wife was shameless in taking advantage of his willingness, exploiting his weaknesses as they presented themselves, and for once, he was happy to leave her to it.

They left Pentos behind not quite a fortnight after the birth that would have killed Laena, flying into the endless sky.

It was a heady thing to be back atop a dragon, soaring through the sky without a care as to what enemies could one encounter and what strategies to use in a fight against a dragon and what against armies.

They flew over the clouds and then so low their dragons’ claws divided the waves. They did not race their dragons as they once would, but they did make the long flight pass by quickly, showing off for their girls. Even Moondancer kept up with the larger dragons’ leisurely pace without any issues, owing to their countless loops and whirls. 

When they approached Driftmark mid-afternoon, Laena overtook him for the final time to lead the way for landing, Moondancer disappearing in the clouds as their intentions became apparent. Vhagar, followed by Caraxes, circled High Tide and let out a bellowing roar to announce her presence to all and sundry, Meleys and Seasmoke crying out in response. Even from a distance, Daemon could see Laena’s beaming smile.

By the time they unchained themselves and descended from their dragons, there was a smattering of people rushing in their direction, Laenor Velaryon leading the charge. He passed Daemon as if he were not there at all, hurrying to embrace first his nieces, and then his sister, slowing only when he noticed a bundle fastened to her chest. “What is this, sister?”

Laena beamed at her brother and went to loosen the bindings, Daemon moving to assist her. “This, dear brother, is your new nephew.”

Laenor looked at Aemon admiringly before scrunching up his nose. “He looks like Daemon.”

Daemon deemed the punch he received from his sister response enough and kept his peace.

Rhaenys, when she reached them as well, was all smiles, and even Daemon was given a hug and a kiss to welcome him to her home. “Come, Corlys is already ordering a feast to welcome you tonight.”

They were guided to the castle and settled in Laena’s old rooms, his cousin promising to clean out additional chambers for their use. The castle was all aflutter by their abrupt return and the presence of the three children. 

The last time any of the Velaryons visited them in Pentos, Laena had yet to show, and now the babe was here. There were smiles on every face they passed, be it a servant, a guard or a distant member of the family.

To Daemon, it truly felt like coming home.

Chapter Text

His wife had been like a hound with a bone. No matter how many times he would stop her, she always returned to the same. Even long after Rhaenyra had returned to Dragonstone with her boys, she would not stop worrying at it. He was a king. He had a hundred matters to attend to, and yet his wife would not stop nagging at him for their son lacked a dragon. Viserys had put up with the matter long enough. He would put the issue to rest for good, one way or another.

The royal family would sail to Dragonstone and there Aemond would either find a dragon to claim or remain dragonless, and Viserys would hear no more of it either way. He was set on his plan, and yet Viserys knew his daughter well enough to know that to write to her of their coming would be inviting a refusal. They would surely not be at home or one of the dragons would be in a particularly foul mood or there would be a sickness among the children.

Three ships set sail out of King’s Landing on the morning tide. One carrying his family, two providing a meager escort for the journey. By the time they would return to the Red Keep, Viserys would finally know some measure of peace. One way or another.

He was anticipating that time with some eagerness, and he spent the last day of their voyage out on the deck of the ship, refusing to return belowdecks, to be with the rest of his family. Viserys had had quite enough of that. So here he was, pacing impatiently and awaiting the first sight of the island.

His impatience was somewhat rewarded as he sighted land rising on the horizon, though it was not yet Dragonstone. The green of Driftmark rising from the sea meant that their goal was not far now. Good, he thought with a sense of satisfaction, for a fierce hunger was rising in Viserys and his stomach would not thank him for eating on a rocking ship once more.

A smile stretched across his face as they sailed forward, and he stood admiring the luscious island so unlike the volcanic nature of Dragonstone, the two islands so close in distance yet so far in scenery. The smile died a slow death as he saw two dragons approach the distant island, flying low, clearly preparing to land, and he cursed himself for a fool.

True, not announcing his intention to visit would prevent a refusal. Yet clearly, he picked a time when Rhaenyra would not be at home in truth. Arriving unannounced would be one thing. To arrive unannounced when Rhaenyra was not at Dragonstone to claim a dragon for her half-brother would be quite another.

They had come too far to turn back now, though, he decided. But they would not continue on past Driftmark. They would land there, spend the night, and set off for Dragonstone in the morn. Rhaenyra would not be able to refuse him in person when they came this far already.

He ordered a change in course, quite satisfied with his decision. It would be a much shorter time now before he could eat, at least. Alicent came to join him on the deck as the crew started to prepare the ship to enter the port, looking around in confusion. “Viserys, what is going on? This is clearly not Dragonstone.”

He turned to her with a chuckle. “You are correct, my dear. We have arrived at Driftmark. I saw dragons land here, and it would be unpardonably rude of us to visit Dragonstone when Rhaenyra is not there.”

His wife let out a heavy sigh. “Viserys, dragons live here. How could you possibly be sure it was Rhaenyra?”

“Because it was two of them. Meleys is the only dragon on Driftmark. Rhaenyra and her husband are plainly visiting.”

“But-” 

Viserys was growing irritated with this line of questioning. “That is enough, Alicent. We are already here. There is no more sense in arguments now.” 

She shot him a look full of dismay and turned back to the cabins. “Very well, I will inform our children.”

There was no one to greet them at the docks, but that was to be expected, with the lord and the lady unaware of their arrival. Amused, Viserys decided to keep it that way, foregoing the forerider. If they come as a surprise, let it be a proper one.

He was quite winded by the time they made the steep climb to the High Tide, and his irritation mounted when the Kingsguard had to show their mettle, the castle guards suspicious of the unannounced party. It was not kingly to snap, and so he did not, letting his knights handle the matters, his head held proudly.

The nerve of those guards! Had they no eyes to see the heraldry?! No wits to recognize the king when faced with one?! He would have to have a word with his cousin and her husband.

One of the quarrelsome, now properly chastised, and shamefaced guards was dispatched to be their guide, and Viserys realized with a sudden surge of embarrassment that he needed one, for he had never been to his cousin’s home. But it mattered not. He was here now, and theirs would be one of the few houses that he honored with his presence.

He straightened to his full height to be at his most regal as the guards at the entrance to the great hall pushed the door open for him, the sounds within speaking of great merriment. 

Their guide’s voice carried even over the bustle as he announced him, “King Viserys of House Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm!”

Viserys stepped forward into the sudden hush, prepared to send gracious smiles to all around, only to freeze almost immediately.

Daemon.

His brother was there.

His little brother.

His little brother, whom he had not seen since his banishment from King’s Landing more than eight years past.

Tears threatened to rise into his eyes. His little brother.

Somehow, Daemon looked younger than the last time he saw him. Taller. Content. Happy.

They stared at each other for an eternity before Daemon moved.

He bowed. 

He bowed deeper than ever before and spoke, “Your Grace,” and Viserys felt like weeping.

“Your Grace!” A joyous Corlys Velaryon appeared at his side, distracting him from his brother. “Welcome to High Tide! You have come just in time for the celebration!” 

It seemed to him that the Lord of the Tides had indulged in some celebrations already. 

“We are celebrating the birth of my grandson!” Cheers sounded around the room at the proclamation. “Laena! Come show His Grace his new nephew!”

Viserys could barely breathe as Laena Velaryon approached with a small bundle. He had not known his brother’s wife had been with child. Indeed, he had not heard any news of him since his marriage to her and their hasty departure.

She made a shallow curtsy as she greeted him with “Your Grace” as well.

He was among his family, yet they all bowed to him. It was not supposed to be this way.

Viserys smiled at her. “Goodsister, congratulations.” He cast around for more words to say to the woman he had rejected as his bride, the woman that looked stunning. His brother’s wife glowed with happiness and hardly looked to have recently birthed a child. He found no more words to say to her, merely asking to hold his nephew.

The boy was a solid weight in his arms, his face peaceful and pale and beautiful. His nose was straight and the shape of his ears was the same as his brother’s. He was the very picture of his brother the first time he had been allowed to see him. 

When the babe let out a wide yawn, blinking his eyes open, he stared at him with his brother’s eyes. He could not resist the wide smile splitting his face, and he turned that smile to his brother. “He looks exactly the same as you did at that age.”

Alicent’s voice sounded next to him, entirely unwelcome. “What do you know, at last, a Velaryon child that looks like their father. This is indeed a surprise.”

“Alicent!” He rebuked her as he saw the smile on his brother’s face dim further and hostility enter his eyes, Velaryons by his side stiffening, and he scrambled around for something to avert the rising conflict.

Daemon’s voice had a deceptive lightness to it when he spoke. “'Tis a good thing, goodsister. Laenor would not have enjoyed life wearing Corlys’ ugly mug.” He affected a shudder. “Indeed, I may have not enjoyed my wife were that the case.”

Corlys Velaryon let out a great laugh. “I would prefer not hearing about how much you have enjoyed my daughter, Daemon, much as I appreciate my grandchildren.”

Children? Daemon had children?

He saw Alicent move to speak again and grew desperate to prevent whatever words she might speak next. “We must arrange a great tourney to celebrate the birth of a new Targaryen prince!”

Daemon’s eyes were cool at his proclamation. “I apologize, Your Grace, but my wife and I have just returned to Westeros. We have not made plans to visit King’s Landing yet.”

“Visit?” Viserys faltered, taken aback, thinking quickly, floundering for a reason to bring him there. “Oh no, I need you by my side, brother. I would name you my Master of Laws. You would oversee the City Watch as well in that role, though you would not command it.”

Daemon’s response was far from what he would have hoped for. “We have come to spend time with my wife’s family. Such position would not be in accordance with that.”

Viserys laughed as if Daemon said something humorous rather than refusal, mind spinning. “Well, then it is a good thing that I am here today to ask Lord Corlys to accept his previous post as Master of Ships back!”

Alicent gasped beside him and Daemon raised a skeptical eyebrow, but Viserys was already set on his course and turned to the surprised but hopefully pleased Lord of the Tides. “My Lord Velaryon, we have missed you in the Small Council for far too long. It would please us greatly if you were to accept our invitation to become our Master of Ships.”

Corlys Velaryon puffed up with pride and Viserys knew he was victorious.

Chapter Text

Viserys’ moment of victory was interrupted by his wife. “Do you intend for us to stand in the doorway for the entire night, Lord Corlys?” 

As the Sea Snake turned to Alicent startled, Viserys abruptly remembered his children arrayed behind him. “Ah, Daemon, I do not believe you will still recognize all of these faces!” Indeed, he would not. Daemon had long been exiled when Daeron had been born, and Aemond was but a babe last he had been in the Red Keep.

He turned to bring the children forward. “Come, meet your uncle.” 

“This is Aegon, my eldest son. You must remember him.” Aegon rolled his eyes as he stepped forward and yawned. Daemon’s face showed unadulterated disgust.

Viserys hurried on. “This sweet girl is my Helaena.” He thought there was a flash of something in Daemon’s eyes for a moment, but then he blinked and only saw pity there as Daemon’s lips made a slight turn upwards in a simile of a smile. She in turn gave him a shy smile and darted forward to kiss his cheek. Daemon looked stunned. Viserys was amused. “The gods’ favor is with you, uncle.” 

His brother seemed to have not recovered from the shock Helaena delivered him, for when he brought forward Aemond, Daemon’s face lacked any expression and his eyes were so devoid of emotion they might as well be dead. He did not even seem to register Daeron’s introduction, and Viserys frowned. His brother did not seem well. 

The royal family was seated at the high table as was only proper, Corlys Velaryon to one side, Alicent and their children on the other. His brother was sat by his own wife, who in turn sat next to her mother on her father’s other side. Seated at the end of the table sitting on Daemon’s other side was Laenor Velaryon, and his wife, Viserys’ daughter Rhaenyra was nowhere to be seen.

She had yet to appear still as first courses were served, and he decided to give voice to his question. “Will Rhaenyra not be joining us?” 

Looks of confusion were traded between Velaryons, and it was his goodsister who spoke up carefully. “Should she be joining us, Your Grace? We were unaware that she would be coming.”

Viserys felt offended on his daughter’s behalf. “You have invited her husband from Dragonstone, but not her?” 

The husband in question seemed to be choking on his drink, and his brother’s shoulders were shaking as Laena Velaryon blinked at him mutely for a long moment before responding slowly. “No invitations were sent, Your Grace. Laenor was already on Driftmark when we arrived. In truth, he was the first to greet us.”

He turned thoughtful at that. “I wonder what kept her from her husband’s side. Is everything well at Dragonstone, Laenor?” He was given a mystified look by Laenor but received no answer, for his attention was diverted by his goodbrother.

Daemon seemed reduced to a shaking fit, and he muttered something to the Velaryon siblings that earned him an amused look and a head shake from one and a solid punch into his shoulder from his wife, as she descended into hushed rapid-fire Valyrian. Whatever she was saying to him seemed to only increase his jolly mood as he turned to Laenor and spoke softly, something that earned him a scandalized “Daemon!” from his wife and another punch. 

Daemon turned a wounded look so reminiscent of their youth on Laena Velaryon that Viserys’ eyes misted. She threw herself into the back of her chair with a huff, crossed her arms on her chest, and turned to ignore him. Her husband was not deterred, though, taking her hand in his and pleading with her imploringly. Her head turned from him, the corners of her lips twitching, she shook her head in helpless exasperation.   

Viserys looked on in fascination, Lord and Lady Velaryon separating them forgotten. He had never witnessed his brother acting in such a way, yet looking at the hall around them, there were no looks indicating that such behavior at the high table was a surprise. If anything, the looks spoke of fond amusement and familiarity.

He had long disbelieved the story of great love at first sight that drove Daemon to kill the unworthy betrothed of Lady Laena Velaryon and wed her himself. Yet… looking at the scene unfolding in front of him, he could not help but doubt his conviction.

Seeing the looks between the two, he could not help but doubt others as well. 

When he had exiled his brother last, he had been advised to execute him for treason instead. He had stood accused of dishonoring the heir to the throne, and Daemon did not fight the charge, requesting Rhaenyra’s hand instead. But his brother had never looked at Rhaenyra the same way he looked at his wife. Viserys could see now, that while there had always been fondness in his brother’s eyes, there had never been true desire. A sudden anger at his brother rose within him. The fool had thought to protect Rhaenyra instead of defending himself, and Viserys had almost executed him for it.

He felt Alicent tug on his sleeve and when he faced her, her brow was furrowed. “Is the food not to your liking, husband? You have barely eaten.” He patted her hand, appreciative of her concern.

“Do not worry, my dear. I am merely thinking of our plans. It seems the gods are smiling upon us. Daemon is the most skilled dragonrider there is, I am sure he will be able to give Aemond valuable advice on claiming a dragon for himself.” 

The smile his wife gave him seemed a bit pained. “Of course, husband.”

His wife having expressed her concern, Viserys took care to eat, though he remained distracted and kept stealing looks in his brother’s direction. While the Targaryen side of the table was steeped in silence, the Velaryon side was quite lively, banter and smiles exchanged freely. Daemon pulled his wife from her seat sometime over the course of the evening, and she smiled sleepily in his embrace as her husband’s hand softly stroked her hair. It was difficult to reconcile this domestic scene with the persona of the Rogue Prince, the second coming of Maegor.

When eventually his brother rose, it was to pick his wife up in his arms. Viserys rose as well, alarmed. As the others at the table scrambled to rise with him, he waved them down. “I only mean to speak a few words with my brother before he retires.”

Daemon seemed filled with indecision as he stood in place, his wife still held in his arms. He spoke as Viserys approached, a note of censure in his voice. “What is it that I can help you with, Your Grace?”

Viserys did not appreciate his tone or his choice of words but decided to overlook it for now and gave him a chastising smile. “Did you mean to leave the feast without speaking to your brother?”

Daemon dropped his nose into his wife’s hair before responding with an even voice. “You must forgive me, Your Grace. My wife has had an exhausting day, and she is not yet fully recovered besides.”

“Do not worry, I will not keep you for long, we may speak in the morn. We will head to Dragonstone from here, so my son can claim one of the dragons there, and any advice you can share on the matter would be much appreciated, brother.”

Daemon let out an amused snort. “Which son would that be, Your Grace? The eldest?”

Viserys’ head was already shaking in denial before his brother even finished speaking. “No, it will be Aemond.”

Daemon’s brow jumped. “I was not aware that Your Grace had so many sons now as to throw their lives away on a folly.”

Dread settled over Viserys. “What do you mean? Speak plainly!”

“How old is the boy? Nine? No adult dragon will let themselves be claimed by a child. Laena and I both claimed a dragon when we were thirteen, and there is a good reason for it. When one hatches a dragon themselves, they build their relationship for years before they first fly together. When one seeks to claim an adult dragon, there is no relationship yet, and so one needs to be built before any claiming can be attempted. Caraxes had been without a rider for years before I did so, yet it was weeks before he accepted me. Vhagar was the same with Laena. As was Meleys with our cousin. Any dragon left on Dragonstone has been left riderless for much longer than them, and is therefore much more dangerous. Others have never been ridden and are more dangerous still. None will accept a child not even capable of coming to them of their own will. Laena was thirteen when she found and tamed Vhagar on her own, her parents left unaware. When the time comes for your son to claim a dragon, he will know. But that time is not now.”

Viserys breathed a sigh of relief. The gods were indeed smiling upon them. Were it not for their unplanned stop at Driftmark, he might be mourning a son soon. Indeed, were it not for his brother’s words, he might have still lost him tomorrow, were they to continue on as planned.

He gave his brother a grateful smile and squeezed his arm. “Thank you, brother. Your words today saved my son’s life.”

Chapter Text

As Daemon stared at his brother’s ship depart for King’s Landing, he could not help but think of the evening before. It had certainly been… surreal.

His brother’s presence at High Tide had been a shock, the only time he had ever visited before had been to attend Laena’s funeral. To see him there with Laena and their son at his side… Daemon shook his head to get rid of the thought. He had not seen his brother since he had left the table in the evening, the royal family’s departure made hastily after a loud argument between his brother and his wife. 

The Kinslayer would not get to claim a dragon for a few years yet. Never, if Daemon had anything to do about it. 

The encounter with his niece had been disconcerting, to say the least. He could not recall her as much as speaking to him before, and yet she had now given him a shy kiss and confusing words. He certainly did not feel favored.

Laena’s arms embraced him from behind, her head coming to rest against his back. “What troubles you, husband?” 

He turned in her arms and held her to himself. “Just a dark dream. It matters not.”

Her hold on him tightened. “I think it does matter when it troubles you so.”

Arrested by indecision, he stared at the top of her head for a long moment. When he spoke, he spoke Valyrian in a soft voice. “ I dreamt that there was a great war. ” She turned her face up to watch him, but he brought his gaze away, staring at nothing.

“There was a great war and no matter what I did… Every decision that I made… I could not prevent  bloodshed. And I could do nothing to stop it. Everything I ever built reduced to ashes. Everyone I ever cared about either gone or changed irrevocably. In the end, it felt easier to accept death rather than to fight on.”

“And your brother’s visit brought this on?”

“Helaena was in it.” There were others but she… With her, he did not understand what went wrong.

He shook his head. “ The fighting had not yet started. Though there were some deaths already.” He would never forget Rhaenyra’s pained scream as the news of Luke’s death was brought to her. “But there was hope still of averting the war if only they could be made reasonable… And so we needed a valuable hostage.”

“That does not sound bad.”

A bitter grimace twisted his face and a sigh escaped him. “Something went wrong. The men sent killed the boy in front of his mother. She was driven insane.” He could still not understand how it could have gone so wrong. His instructions had been clear. A dead heir did them no good, Aegon had another.

A gasp escaped Laena. “Helaena?”

He gave a short nod.

Laena seemed to hesitate before asking her next question, barely audible, “Was it Rhaenyra and Aegon fighting?”

He gave another short nod.

They stood quietly for a while before Laena spoke again. “Everyone you cared about was dead or changed. What about me and our children?” He thought of Baela left to defend Dragonstone alone, and of Rhaena sent off to the Vale.

He took a tremulous breath and turned to look into her eyes to reassure himself. “You were dead. The children scattered beyond my reach.”

Her eyes were pained. He framed her face in his hands. “It will not happen, Laena. I swear to you, I will not let it happen.” It was not desperation that colored his voice. It was not.

She gave him a sad smile and covered his hands with her own. “I thought it was just a dream that did not matter?”

“I was a fool. At the Great Council, your father gathered his fleet and I gathered an army to support my brother. It was a show of strength. We would never have fought, not even for a throne. We are one blood, the blood of Old Valyria. The only pieces of it left in the whole wide world. I thought a show of strength would be enough. But I underestimated the hate between Rhaenyra and her siblings. The Hightower spawn have no understanding of what the blood of the dragon means. I am no longer sure even Rhaenyra knows its meaning.” A pack of starving wolves held more affection for each other than his brother’s children did.

“You do not have to accept the post your brother offered you.”

He sighed, dropped his hands, and turned away from her to return to the window. “I have to if I want to change anything.”

He would do his best to keep as many dragons as possible away from the fighting, to reduce the damage wrought to the smallfolk. But to keep the dragons away, Daemon would need to gather as many loyal dragonriders to himself as possible. It was good that five dragons were present on Driftmark already, Laena’s Vhagar secured. Laenor would surely follow his lead, and Rhaenys could be reasoned with. He suppressed a smile. Indeed, it was good that they were on Driftmark.

“You do not have to come with me to King’s Landing.”

She came to stand beside him, a slight smile playing along her lips as she rolled her eyes at him. “I have to if I want to change anything.” She let out a slight sigh. “I will have to convince my mother to join us as well. We will need her support.”

He smiled at her and winked. “I think her grandchildren will be incentive enough.”

As loath as he was to leave his wife, there were matters to attend to if they were to depart Driftmark soon, and so he went in search of his goodbrother. 

He found him in his chambers, ready to depart, dressed for a flight. “Laenor, you were never the one for a morning flight after a night of drinking. Are you certain of it being a good idea?”

Laenor gave him an unhappy grimace in response. “The king was right. Rhaenyra should have been informed. If not of your return, then of the fact that they meant to claim a dragon on Dragonstone without her knowledge. These are not news I would put to paper.”

“I am not so certain of that. Her ire will surely be raised. She might do something foolish.”

Laenor gave him a grin. “As is her wont.” 

Daemon frowned. There had been a time when he would have admonished Laenor for such words, but that time was gone now.

“I came to see if you could accompany me on an errand, goodbrother.”

Chapter Text

The Hand of the King frowned when he was given news that the ships carrying the royal family were sighted. It was too soon. He had wished for more time to rule in the King’s name. He was gone from his post for too long and much of his influence needed rebuilding, but it did not matter. All would be well in time. He was back and he had strong allies on the Small Council.

His frown turned into a smile. It had been barely enough time to sail to Dragonstone and back, much less claim a dragon and spend the night. Was the girl truly foolish enough to turn them away? Otto could only hope.

He was all graciousness when he greeted the returning royal party at the steps to the Red Keep. He rejoiced as he saw the thunderous expression on the king’s face. All the better for him. His grandson might have to remain without a dragon for a time but the whore dug her own grave. Alicent’s steps were quick as she tried to keep up with her husband, face worried. Good, his daughter knew how to play her role well.

The king swept past him as he called for servants. “Have the Small Council gather at once! There is news to share!” He could have wept for joy.

He affected a concerned tone as he followed. “Your Grace, we were not expecting you back so soon. Did anything amiss happen at Dragonstone?”

His daughter shot him a dark look and spoke in a low voice. “We did not go to Dragonstone.”

Otto was caught wrong-footed by the statement and even more so when the king snapped at his wife. “Enough, Alicent! We will speak of this in the meeting of the Small Council and not before. I have had enough arguments out of you!”

Alicent sent him a wary look and apprehension filled him. It would not be good news then. Not for them. Otto was confused. What could possibly happen while sailing on a ship?

It took longer than usual for the Small Council members to gather at the unexpected summons when the king was not supposed to be in the Keep and Viserys only grew more irritable for the wait. As they waited in tense silence, the apprehension Otto felt kept rising. Alicent would not meet his gaze. What was going on?

The Master of the Ships was last to arrive and Otto let out a breath of relief. Tyland Lannister smiled an affable smile as he went to take his seat. “Your Grace’s trip to Dragonstone was quicker than expected. Is anything amiss at Dragonstone?” Otto hid a wince and could have kicked him as the king shot him a baleful glare.

At last, the king chose to speak. “We did not go to Dragonstone.” Otto suppressed a wave of irritation rising within him. He already knew that. “We stopped at Driftmark. My brother has returned to Westeros with his wife and children.”

Otto’s mood ruined, he well understood the king’s state of mind now. He prepared to listen carefully to whatever the Rogue Prince did this time to provoke his brother so but there was a sudden lightness to his voice as he continued.

“It is my great pleasure to announce that Lady Laena has recently birthed a new prince for House Targaryen. Let it be known across the kingdoms, that there will be a great tourney to celebrate the birth of Prince Aemon.” Otto was horrified. Not only was a title being granted to his nemesis’ child but the very name of the child bore ill tidings for Otto and his line.

Viserys was not done though. “With my brother’s return, there will be changes to the Small Council.  My Lord Wylde, we thank you for your leal service and allow you to return to your keep. My brother, Prince Daemon graciously agreed to take over for you as the Master of Laws.” Otto was horrified. The City Watch would have been bad enough. But it would seem the king was not done yet for he turned to Tyland Lannister next.

“Ser Tyland, we thank you for your leal service as well. However, Lord Corlys Velaryon accepted my offer to resume his previous post and so will be taking over your duties. You are welcome to stay on and to assist him in them if you so wish.” Tyland Lannister turned puce. Which insult stung more was anyone’s guess.

There was a stunned silence in the chamber as the king finished speaking. He looked at all of them, nodded to himself seemingly satisfied, and left. Alicent sent her father an apologetic look and hurried after her husband, nearly running to catch up to him.

There was an explosion of noise as the door closed behind the king and Otto allowed his eyes to fall closed. He knew not what the Gods were punishing him for. All things considered, he would have preferred the news of one of his grandchildren dying.

It was much later that he managed to find Alicent alone in her apartments and biting on her nails. She looked to have been expecting him for she flung herself at him the moment she saw him.

“Father, he will not listen! He said it is too dangerous for Aemond to try for a dragon and he will not hear any more of it! You have to do something!”

He grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her away from himself. He wanted to shake her. “You think I care for that when fucking Daemon Targaryen is back to plague us?” His voice soft and dangerous. He did shake her. “When he removed not one but two of our closest allies from the Small Council before even stepping foot into the city? When his crony Corlys fucking Velaryon is back as well? Do you think I care about trifles like that? You have other sons with dragons and a daughter besides.”

His daughter freed herself from his grasp undeterred and seethed at him. “My sons have only two dragons among themselves, with only Helaena’s Dreamfyre an adult and my sweet daughter is not fit for fighting. Rhaenyra’s sons have three young dragons and Rhaenyra’s own Syrax as well. When it comes to dragons, she holds the advantage.”

He calmed himself enough to respond with reason. “And have you given thought to just how many dragons Daemon Targaryen controls? Vhagar, Caraxes, Meleys and Seasmoke are all grown, Vhagar the oldest and by far the largest of the dragons now alive. Your focus on Rhaenyra blinds you to the true danger.”

Alicent’s brows furrowed. “You count Seasmoke among his.”

It was all Otto could do not to throw his hands in the air in frustration. “Do you think for even a moment that Laenor Velaryon would support his wife and her bastard’s get over his beloved sister’s trueborn son? Do you think Corlys Velaryon would allow that?”

He took a deep breath to calm himself. This was not Alicent’s fault.

“Now tell me how it is that you were at Driftmark, not Dragonstone.”

And so Alicent began her tale.

Chapter Text

They walked through the town with haste. They left their heads covered so as to disguise their hair color, though, to Daemon’s eyes, they need not have bothered. There appeared to be pale heads aplenty. It was clothes that they should have changed if they wished to avoid attention. Velaryon men-at-arms, sailors, and others cast suspicious glances their way as they passed. Daemon smiled as a pair of eyes watched them more intently than others. The smile widened when the eyes followed after them. Maybe he truly had a helping hand in this endeavor.

As they headed for the shipyard, Laenor kept shooting questioning looks over his shoulder at him, doubtless curious about what errand might bring Daemon to such a place. The shipyard was as much a hive of activity as it ever was. They walked along, Daemon’s eyes searching for something or someone familiar, failing that, at least someone competent enough to point them on their way.

Daemon’s patience left him quickly in the unknown surroundings, so he decided to try his luck with a group of workers having a lively conversation rather than working. “Good men, do you happen to know where we would find the owner of this fine shipyard? We are looking for his daughter.”

He did not need to look in Laenor’s direction to know that his brows would be climbing on his face, doubtless already thinking of a report of mischief to give his sister.

Once given the directions, he set off quickly, Laenor barely keeping up. “Daemon, what is going on?”

“You will see soon enough, good-brother.”

When they found the man, Daemon grasped him by the shoulder. “My man, we are here to speak to you and your daughter on behalf of Lord Velaryon. Is there someplace we can speak in private? Perhaps your home?”

The man was taken aback by Daemon’s sudden appearance and familiarity as well as his words and agreed quickly, guiding them away from the bustle of the yard and towards his home.

“My daughter is at home with my grandsons. I hope that they will not trouble you, my lord.”

Daemon suppressed a smile yet again. That would not trouble him at all. It would serve him well. It would serve him very well indeed.

The man entered his home in front of them and called for his daughter. “Marilda!”

Daemon frowned at seeing Laenor jerk and looked at him in puzzlement.

“Come! We have guests sent by Lord Velaryon.”

The woman entered as they were removing their hoods and gasped as they turned to her. “You!”

Daemon’s mouth moved before he realized it, the response instinctual. “Me.”

The woman gave him a startled look. “Who are you?”

“I thought we already settled that I am me.” Laenor was very pale and very still next to him and of no help.

Daemon rolled his eyes. “We came here because it came to our attention that there is someone of Velaryon blood in this house. Besides us, that is.”

Laenor turned a wide-eyed stare in his direction, jaw dropping.

Poor thing, the result of his father’s indiscretion seemed to be quite a shock to him.

Marilda of Hull raised her chin defiantly. “Well, it is about damn time you showed up!”

He smiled at her. “I assure you, woman, if Lord Velaryon knew of the situation, we would have been here sooner.”

There was a flash of irritation in her face and her expression turned thunderous. “This has nothing to do with Lord Velaryon! A man should take care of his sons!”

Laenor’s voice was very weak next to him. “Sons?”

Daemon threw him an irritated glance. Could the man not keep up? He started to think that Laena might have been the better choice for this visit, though the consequences to the health of her father would be far less predictable.

The woman called over her shoulder. “Addam! Alyn! Your father is here to see you!”

Wait.

As the two boys appeared from behind their mother, Laenor sank to his knees, tears in his eyes.

“Good morrow to you. I am Ser Laenor Velaryon, your father.”

What?

Stunned, Daemon remained silent for most of the ensuing conversation, frowning. This was not shaping up the way he expected.

“I take it that you are here to take them to High Tide?”

Laenor seemed at a loss as to the answer and so Daemon did. “I want to take them on as my pages. As they age, they will become my squires and if skilled enough, they will become knights. I would offer them education alongside my own children, their cousins. They would go where my household goes.”

The boys’ mother furrowed her brows. “And who would you be? You never said.”

“This is my good-brother, Prince Daemon Targaryen.”

The boys’ eyes widened in admiration and their faces flushed with pride.

The woman flushed and then paled rapidly, dropping into a clumsy curtsy. “Forgive me, my prince.”

He waved her apology away in annoyance. “There is nothing to forgive. But I am waiting for your answer.”

She gave him a considering look. “Would I be allowed to see them? Would they be allowed to visit me?”

He rolled his eyes and prayed for patience. “You are their mother. I will not keep them away from you, but I am traveling to King’s Landing soon and may remain there for some time.”

She bit her lip and looked to her boys. She heaved a great sigh filled with sadness. “I accept. The boys need an education and you can offer them a much better future than I.”

He pushed off the wall he leaned against. “Great, then let them gather their things and let us get going. Laenor has somewhere to be. I will wait outside.”

Laenor and his sons joined him soon enough, all their belongings clutched against their little chests in their little arms. He extended a hand for the satchels and set off with them. Letting the boys carry them would only slow them down.

“We are heading for the castle. We left our horses there.” He explained to them loudly for lack of anything else to say.

The eyes were following them still.

It was not a long walk when they knew where they were going and they set a leisurely pace.

Daemon was feeling quite satisfied with himself as they readied their horses, a slight smile in place. Two birds with one stone.

As he felt something brush his side where he kept his money pouch, his hand darted out and caught a skinny arm in a firm grip. His smile stretched as he gazed down into the scared brown eyes of a small, brown-skinned girl.

Make that three birds.

Chapter Text

The girl fought as the first shock at being caught passed. She bit his gloved hand, kicked his legs, and beat whatever part of him came into her range with her free hand. Daemon left her to it and kept his grip on her. As she tired herself out, he let her become aware of the castle guards now surrounding them.

She gave him a stare full of defiance as he kept smiling at her. Laenor and the boys stared openly at the scene.

He lowered himself to his haunches to look straight into her eyes.

“I am Prince Daemon Targaryen. Do you know that it is customary for a limb that strikes a member of the royal family to be lost? Tell me child, how many limbs it is you should lose if you are a thief as well?”

A terror entered into her eyes as he spoke. Good. She thought herself with nothing to lose, let her realize just how much she could.

“Now tell me, where are your parents, child?”

She gave him a sullen glare. “I got me no pa or ma.”

He gentled his tone a little. “I see. How about the person that takes care of you?”

“I got me nobody!”

Daemon sighed even though it was the response he expected and turned towards Laenor and the boys to point at them. “These are Addam and Alyn. They are coming with us to be my pages and to learn with my children. Would you like to join them? You would always have a place to sleep and enough to eat. How would you like that?”

The look she gave him was full of distrust. She turned her head a little, considering the guards arrayed around them for a few moments, and then turned her gaze back on him. It was full of resignation. “Alright.”

He let go of her arm carefully. When she did not run immediately, he slapped his thighs and got up. “Very well. We dilly-dallied long enough. Let us get going.”

Arranging themselves on two horses with three small children, each sitting a horse for the first time, took some time. In the end, Laenor took the boys, one in front of him, the other behind, with Daemon taking the girl.

Laenor let out a laugh once they left the castle and the town behind, choosing to ride along only a rarely trodden path to High Tide.

“I have not known you to be one for collecting children, good-brother.”

Daemon, being quite happy with the day’s endeavors, would not let himself be baited. “I think these will suffice, good-brother.”

Laenor seemed to hesitate before continuing. “Did my father really send you?”

“No, Corlys knows nothing about them. I learned of them recently but thought them his.”

Laenor let out another laugh and shook his head. “Father will worship the ground you walk on.” At seeing Daemon’s questioning look, he elaborated. “Two days ago, he had no grandsons of his blood. Then you showed up and now he has three.”

Daemon watched the children for signs of having understood Valyrian for a while. Finding none, he decided to get some answers while there were no witnesses.

“No grandsons of his blood?” He had been certain before but not since finding Addam and Alyn to be truly Laenor’s. That certainty was lost. He had known Laenor since his birth and shared a war camp with him long enough to be baffled by the whole thing.

He shook his head in response and sighed. “You know how it is to have a wife that wishes to have nothing of you. I am no rapist and you know my preferences well enough besides. I learned to be content knowing I would have no sons of my own.”

Daemon could indeed understand at least a part of it. “Then how come these boys came to be?”

“When father started the talk of the betrothal, I knew I could not let it go through if I could not fulfill my duty. It would be too dangerous for all of us. And so, I decided to… experiment.” He gave a shrug.

Daemon was mystified. “Why not go to a whore?”

Laenor gave him an annoyed glare. “People might speculate as to what I do in private but were I to go to a whorehouse, they’d know. There is no secret as to what goes on in there.” He lowered his unseeing gaze to the pale head in front of him. “I met their mother often enough to consider her a friend and she liked me well enough. She is no whore but she knew what she was doing. She was kind to me.”

Daemon’s voice rose to heights previously unknown to him. “Twice?”

Laenor blushed. “Once when the negotiations were starting. The second shortly before the wedding. I wanted to make sure. But she did not tell me…” He shook his head sadly. “I did not know.”

A bitter grimace twisted Laenor’s fine features. “When Rhaenyra talked to me of doing our duty and then doing whatever pleased us best, I thought she spoke of begetting heirs. She meant the duty of our wedding.”

Daemon let out a shuddering breath and cursed in the privacy of his mind. The girl took his lessons and twisted them beyond recognition, regardless of the context in which they were given. He had laid the blame for the state of her marriage squarely at Laenor’s feet, yet it would seem that he was blameless. He knew his duty well enough.

He shook his head and then opened his mouth to speak the only words he could. “I am sorry.”

As Daemon spent the rest of their journey in silent contemplation, it was Laenor who entertained the children by describing the sights they passed and telling of stories. As he spoke animatedly, Daemon was much reminded of how he was with his sister’s children.

Laenor Velaryon loved children.

And he had been barred from having his own in the life Daemon had lived by his niece’s refusal to recognize her duty.

Worse, she ensured that his inheritance, everything his father had built, would have been stolen by boys carrying his name but not his blood.

Daemon felt great shame flood him as he realized that were it not for him, for his actions dragging them to war, the Velaryons would not have lost near everything they had had. Were it not for Baela’s and Rhaena’s betrothal to Rhaenyra’s sons and the hope of retaining their name and their lands for their blood…

He remembered the tales of his cousin’s burned and mangled body, the head of her dragon paraded through the streets of King’s Landing and felt a sickness rise within him.

His fault.

As much as he might wish to lay the blame elsewhere, it was his alone.

They returned to High Tide to find the household already all aflutter, the news from Hull or Castle Driftmark apparently preceding them. They found Laena pacing in the entrance hall, waiting for them, Aemon in the arms of a nearby maid, and the twins playing on the ground nearby. She froze when she spotted them.

Laenor, his face beaming with pride, ran to embrace her and twirled her around. When he set her down on the ground again, he spoke loud enough to be heard by all in the hall. “Sister, come meet my sons, Addam and Alyn from Hull.”

Laena shot Daemon a bewildered glance over her brother’s shoulder. “Your sons?”

Laenor beamed at her. “Yes. Daemon agreed to take them on as his pages.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Daemon did, did he?”

Immune to his sister’s skepticism, Laenor pressed on. “Where are mother and father? I must introduce them.”

Laena’s eyes ceased their jumping between Laenor and Daemon to settle on the boys and her breath was stolen away. She gave them a kind smile that threatened to turn into a weepy one as she leaned down towards them. “It is a pleasure to meet you, dears, I am your aunt Laena. Let me show you to your grandfather’s solar.”

As she rose, her eyes settled on the girl standing half-hidden behind Daemon, peeking curiously. “And who would this be?”

Before Daemon had a chance to respond, Laenor did so for him, grinning widely. “That is the orphaned thief Daemon decided to take on instead of ridding her of every limb.” Laenor bounced happily on the balls of his feet having delivered his piece of news.

Laena opened her mouth as if to speak and then closed it. She frowned, seemingly rallying herself, and then a smile returned to her face. The next she spoke, she addressed the girl. “What is your name, dear?”

The girl looked at her wide-eyed and flushed, scuffing a foot on the floor before shaking a head. “I got me no name.”

She tried again, her tone gentling further. “Well, how did your family call you?”

“I never got me no family.”

His wife seemed at a loss and turned her pained eyes to Daemon for help, yet Daemon had little help to give. While Nettles did not sound like a true name, he never doubted it was hers.

Daemon dropped to her height again, laying a hand on her shoulder to turn her from Laena to himself. “Well then, how about we call you Naerys?” Nettles was no proper name for a dragonrider, after all.

She nodded mutely but energetically.

That settled, he let Laena lead Laenor and the boys to present them to their grandparents while he arranged for servants to prepare chambers for them and the newly-named Naerys in the family wing, near their own chambers.

He took the twins, one under each arm, and bade Naerys to follow. There were many things she would have to be taught again. But first, she would need to bathe and while he would happily leave that battle to the maids, their victory would be made easier if the twins were to join her.

Daemon had never seen Corlys Velaryon cry.

He had not cried upon the death of his daughter or at her funeral, not even when her brother had joined her but a few moons later. He had never even heard of such a thing happening. And yet, when he joined the others in the Lord’s solar, he was.

Chapter Text

Laenor did not leave for Dragonstone that day, nor the day after.

He spent all his time with the children, his sons, nieces, and Naerys trailing after him wherever he went. When he took to the skies atop Seasmoke, Addam and Alyn were with him, Caraxes and Vhagar alongside with their own loads of children, Daemon and Laena fearing the others feeling left out.

He spent whole days showing them every nook and cranny of High Tide, exploring hidden coves and leading raids on the kitchens, looking for sweets.

Wherever Laenor took them, he always returned them covered in dust and grime from their exploits, exhausted but happy enough to accept their baths and bedtime with grace. There was clear adoration in the face of each child as they looked at him.

It was as if new life was breathed into Laenor and smiles spread across the castle, everyone quickly growing used to the sound of children’s laughter that now accompanied him everywhere.

It was Laenor who presented all of them with wooden swords and showed them how to hold them. It was he who fought mock battles and built castles of sand or pillows with them.

Daemon observed it all and stewed in his guilt.

He was already dreading the day they would depart for King’s Landing, leaving Laenor behind to rule in his father’s absence.

Alas, that day was growing closer and Daemon had every intention of visiting Dragonstone with his wife and children before ever reaching King’s Landing. Knowing his brother, delaying might mean never getting the chance again.

He was loath to steal whatever time Laenor had left with the children so, he put a pen to paper and wrote a raven to his niece, informing her of his return to Westeros and asking leave to visit Dragonstone with his family and pay tribute to the ancestral dragons residing there. Instead of all of them traveling there by ship before continuing to King’s Landing, it would be just Laena and his children flying there.

It would fall to Daemon to inform her of Viserys’ thwarted plans and of his appointment to the Small Council. It was the least he could do, to weather his niece’s ensuing rage in Laenor’s place. Then again, their visit might give her reason enough for aggravation.

His wife, upon seeing the contents of his letter before he sealed it with his signet ring, found a reason for a raised brow again. “You wish to pay tribute to the ancestral dragons?”

His reply was short. “Yes.”

She laid her arms around his neck and settled herself in his lap. “Would you care to elaborate on that?”

He leaned back in his seat and smiled up at her. “Not really, no.”

She gave him a sweet smile and lightly scratched her nails along his nape. “Are you sure about that?”

He closed his eyes at the feeling and his lips stretched in amusement. His wife was evil. She knew that she was nowhere near to recovered yet.

Keeping his eyes closed, he allowed his fingers to roam her body. “Do you remember when your brother was a babe?”

There was a frown in her voice. “No? I was too young.”

“Did your mother ever mention you visiting the Dragonpit with your great-grandparents when you were a babe to you?”

Both her brow and her voice rose in confusion. “No?”

“Well, they did. With both you and your brother. I was there too.”

“What about Rhaenyra?”

He opened his eyes and went to move his wife off his lap and stand, suddenly restless. “That would have been up to Viserys. I certainly wouldn’t know. I was exiled to the Vale already.”

Laena watched him pace with a slight furrow between her brows, biting on her lip and arms folded protectively.

“Why would we be taken to the Dragonpit by our great-grandparents?”

He stopped and grinned at her. “Because you were family and no one wants their dragons to eat their family on accident.”

The reply from Dragonstone was swift and affirmative. His niece would welcome them gladly.

The journey was entirely too short for Daemon’s peace of mind. Apprehension had been rising within him for days and now near enough prevented him from mounting Caraxes. Were it not for the anticipation he felt at finally being able to put his plan into motion, he probably wouldn’t have.

He saw Laena throw him more than one worried look before they took off, clearly aware that Daemon was not at ease. Considering that it was Daemon carrying their son for the short trip, he gave her a reassuring smile for every look he caught.

He lightly touched his son’s head as they were about to start their descent for landing outside of the castle, well away from dragon pens. There was a bad feeling gnawing at his insides, his chest squeezed tightly.

As he climbed down from Caraxes’ back and loosened the bindings securing Aemon in place, he took off his gloves, stuffed them in his belt and caressed his son’s head again.

As Rhaenyra approached with her sons by her side, youngest carried by a nurse, he fought with the conflicting emotions arising within him. He had to remind himself that this was not the woman that had betrayed him and sent him to his death. And as he looked into the faces of her sons and saw that they held no trace of recognition, of familiarity, of love, and he felt his heart tear to pieces, he had to remind himself that these were not his sons, these were not the boys he had raised and then had sent to their deaths in a war not of their making.

His niece approached him with a warm smile on her face. “Welcome to Dragonstone, uncle. I have missed you.” She paused, seemingly on the verge of embracing him before noticing the bundle strapped to his chest and giving him a puzzled look.

He gave a smile in response, fighting to keep the pain of seeing them all together on Dragonstone again. “Niece, it is good to see you.” He touched Aemon’s head again.

At a loss, he turned to Laena, approaching with the girls from Vhagar’s direction and greeting Rhaenyra with a bright smile and a hug. “Good-sister, it is good to see you. Let me introduce our children. These are my daughters Baela and Rhaena. And I think you already met my son Aemon, carried by Daemon.”

Rhaenyra gave his wife a tight smile and replied. “My uncle has not had time to introduce him to me yet.” She turned to her sons to bring them forward. “These are my sons – Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey.”

Daemon smiled at them and gave each a nod as they were introduced.

Laena went to her knees and greeted them still smiling her bright smile. “It is good to finally meet you, nephews.” She turned to her daughters. “Baela, Rhaena, come meet your cousins.”

They came forward, looking at the boys with unveiled curiosity, eyes sharp. Baela turned her face up to her father in confusion. “Cousins? Are they Addam’s and Alyn’s brothers?”

Daemon’s smile froze on his face and Laena’s eyes became guarded. He chanced a quick glance at his niece, her face carefully blank. The short answer “half-brothers” was uttered through his gritted teeth. That was certainly not how he imagined the visit to start.

Baela pouted at him. “But they look nothing alike!”

Fantastic.

Chapter Text

As the face of his niece twisted in fury, he quickly scooped up his unrepentant daughter into his arms and buried her head in his shoulder to stop more words from escaping her, thankful to not have freed Aemon just yet, hissing “Be quiet, Baela” into her ear.

Laena let out a light laugh and picked up Rhaena as she rose to her full height, suppressing a wince. “Children, their minds work in queer ways, don’t they, good-sister?”

Daemon let out an amused laugh of his own. “Indeed, Baela is our mischief-maker.” He gave a kiss to the top of her head and let go of it to flick her nose, knowing well what response it would provoke.

Baela pouted, folded her arms, and stuck out her tongue at him. He used the opportunity to catch it and lightly tug on it. She giggled madly and threw herself at him to hide her face in his neck, careful of her brother. Her sister and cousins laughed as well, already distracted, relief shining clearly in Laena’s eyes.

Rhaenyra’s face relaxed at the sound of her sons’ laughter though her eyes remained sharpened. He gave her a soft smile over Baela’s head and her eyes softened as well, lips lifting a fraction in response.

“You look well, niece. And your sons… you must be proud of them.” He inserted as much warmth into his voice and eyes as he was capable of with the ice spreading through his veins. It was not too difficult. It was a boon to see her as she once was, not as she had become, broken by her losses.

Her smile widened and there was pride in her voice as she raised her chin. “I am, uncle. Thank you.”

She gave what seemed to be a look of triumph in Laena’s direction. “Good-sister, you and your daughters must be exhausted after the journey. Let us retire to the castle. There are refreshments prepared. I am sure you would like to partake of them and take a rest for a while.”

Daemon, remembering Laena’s wince, readily agreed and smiled in thanks at the consideration. Rhaenyra turned to lead them into the fortress and he turned to Laena to take Rhaena from her arms.

Laena gave him a mutinous glare. “I can carry her. And it was not a long journey at all, I am not tired.” She rolled her eyes.

He felt like rolling his as well. Instead, he lowered his voice conspiratorially. “I do know that but all the same, I’d prefer if I was the one praised for their strength between the two of us.”

She melted under his gaze and finally let him take her burden with a fond head shake and went after Rhaenyra, Daemon close behind, worried eyes fixed on her back.

As they entered the solar where refreshments were waiting for them and Rhaenyra finally turned back to face them, she let out an amused laugh at seeing him so burdened. “Uncle, look at you! The great Rogue Prince reduced to a pack animal. One would hardly believe it true!”

Daemon laughed as well. He could hardly believe it himself sometimes. Seeing Laena, Baela, Rhaena, and Aemon… all together, alive and well and right by his side… It would have been beyond his wildest dreams just a moon ago.

He gave each twin a kiss on top of her head and lowered himself to his knees to release them, finally moving to remove Aemon from his bindings, the babe still asleep. He stared at him reverently for a few moments before rising to hand him into Laena’s waiting arms and kissing the top of his and her head in turn as well.

He turned to Rhaenyra as she spoke. “I am happy to see you returned to Westeros, uncle. I hope the journey from Pentos was not too grueling?”

She addressed him, yet it was Laena who responded. “The journey was quick enough on our dragons. Children enjoyed it and we had a sennight already to recover on Driftmark.”

His niece faltered at the news. “You have been on Driftmark so long already?”

It was all he could do not to wince at her tone and he gave her a conciliatory smile. “It has been an admittedly eventful sennight on Driftmark.”

Laena spoke up again with a smile. “My father threw a great feast in celebration of his grandson’s birth. It was quite a happening.”

Rhaenyra gave her a thin smile and a look full of condescension. “It must not have been so remarkable. We have not heard of it even here on Dragonstone.”

Amusement was clear in Laena’s face. “Indeed? I would think all of King’s Landing has heard by now, what with the king and his family being there.”

“My father was on Driftmark? When? Why?”

“It was the day we arrived. They stopped there on the way here but then turned back.” Daemon spoke quickly.

Rhaenyra stared at him for a moment before opening her mouth only for Laena to interject again. “The king wished for his son to claim a dragon here but my husband changed his mind.” She gave Daemon an adoring smile and touched his hand.

Daemon stared at his wife. He could understand Baela providing delicate information unprompted but Laena…

“What?!”

There was fury in Rhaenyra’s voice but Laena seemed undeterred and continued with wide innocent eyes. “Did they not announce their visit?” She well knew they did not. What was she doing?

“Regardless, when my husband advised against it, the king decided to return to King’s Landing. I am sure there was much to do for him, with my husband and my father back on the Small Council.”

“What?” This time, Rhaenyra’s voice was weak with shock.

“We will all be heading to King’s Landing in a few days. My father, my mother, my husband, our children and I. And of course, my brother’s sons. They cannot be left behind as they are my husband’s pages.” She let out a light laugh.

Daemon was stupefied. What was wrong with his wife?

Rhaenyra, getting out of her shock, was glaring daggers at her. Were Laena a lesser woman, he would expect her reduced to a pile of ashes already but she merely smiled pleasantly back at her. His niece rallied to give him a bashful smile. “It will be a boon to have your support in King’s Landing, uncle.”

She laid a hand on his arm and looked into his eyes as she spoke and Daemon could do little else than look back and respond. “You will always have it.” But never again at the expense of his family.

She gave him a beaming smile and finally hugged him. He hugged her back and gave her a soft smile as they separated.

Judging the situation safe enough for now, he brought up the dragons. “Unfortunately, we cannot stay from Driftmark for too long. The children tire out quickly and they must be on their best behavior in the dragon pens. Would it be too much to ask your leave to visit them now?”

She was still smiling as she replied. Good. “Not at all, uncle. Not for you. Let us go then.” She took his arm in hers and was already leading him away. He looked back to Laena to make sure she followed with the children and found her glaring at him. As his brows furrowed minutely, her glare lessened and she shook her head with a sigh and turned to collect the twins quickly. “Baela, Rhaena, come!”

Rhaenyra set off at a fast clip and Daemon fought to keep their walk at a pace where Laena would not lose them in the labyrinthine corridors. While Dragonstone had been a home to him, he doubted that Laena had ever even visited.

“I must admit that I am confused as to what it is that you wish to visit the dragons for. Your children are too young to claim one.”

Daemon smiled. That was true enough. “When Laena was a babe, her great-grandparents, my grandparents presented her to Vermithor and Silverwing. We simply wish to preserve the tradition.”

“Do you not fear it to be dangerous? They have been without a rider for a long time.”

No. He held no fear of them. Daemon and Laena were presented to them as babes and they would be the ones holding their own children. As long as there was no rider to order them otherwise, they would not harm them.

“Have no fear, niece. I know what I am doing.” He patted her arm and she laid her hand on top of his. “I truly hope so.”

“Regardless, it would be for the best if everyone else stayed well clear of the pens when we are there, including the dragonkeepers.”

As Daemon stood at the entrance to the dragon pens with Laena by his side and took a deep breath, he could not hold back a giddy smile. He was home. He turned to his wife and brought their foreheads together for a moment and then gave her lips a sweet kiss. Still smiling, he took first Baela and then Rhaena into his arms and led the way.

The caverns belonging to Vermithor and Silverwing were the largest presently occupied and while there were others, all of the caverns opened to the central yard Daemon stood in.

He gave a nod to Laena and together they started to sing.

Fire breather

Winged leader

But two heads

To a third sing

From my voice:

The fires have spoken

And the price has been paid

With blood magic

With words of flame

With clear eyes

To bind the three

To you, I sing

As one we gather

And with three heads

We shall fly as we were destined

Beautifully, freely

As they sang, Vermithor and Silverwing came out of their lairs to listen and watch them.

As they finished, the dragons roared as one and let out a breath of fire towards the heavens.

Silverwing approached first, smelling Aemon, held by Laena, and then Baela and Rhaena, held by Daemon. As she breathed in the smell of the twins, she let out a contented hum and bumped her massive head gently against Rhaena. Rhaena fascinated, gave her father a pleading look and at his nod, rubbed her hand along the warm scales. Her smile was blinding. As Silverwing retreated satisfied and laid herself on the ground of the yard, Vermithor took her place.

He smelled the twins first, then approaching Laena and Aemon. When he breathed in the smell of the babe, he reared back and let out an excited rumble before moving his head in to touch the babe. The babe being wrapped in Laena’s arms, all that he succeeded in was pushing her a step back. She gave Daemon a wide-eyed look but he gave her a nod and she did as they agreed with a sigh. She changed her hold on Aemon so that she could present him to Vermithor in extended arms. His head closed in again and touched the only skin Aemon had left unwrapped, his head, with a gentleness hardly fathomable in a dragon. He retreated to join Silverwing and stare at them unblinking.

Daemon and Laena remained standing where they were for a few moments more before taking a step, then two back, and then turning and leaving.

Forlorn cries of the two dragons followed their footsteps.

Chapter Text

Leaving the dragon pens, they came upon anxious Rhaenyra awaiting them with dragonkeepers arrayed nearby, doubtless ready to interfere if something were to occur. Her eyes spoke of relief as she sighted them returning and rushed forward. “Uncle! I take you were successful?”

Daemon shrugged his shoulders. “As much as could be expected. Thank you for this, niece.”

She laughed suddenly. “Would that I knew of this when my sons were babes, Laenor never mentioned it.”

He nodded. “Laenor would not have remembered it. Even Laena was surprised when I mentioned it.” And even then it would not have mattered. The babes had to be presented by their parents. They were not Laenor’s blood and Rhaenyra may have not been presented herself. Dragons would not react kindly to what they might perceive as an attempt to fool them.

Rhaenyra shook her head, smile still present. “You were always the most knowledgeable of all of us. There is no man with greater knowledge of dragonlore than you.”

It was all Daemon could do not to laugh in her face as his gaze slid to the dragonkeepers. All that Daemon knew he had learned from watching and listening to those more knowledgeable than him. Giving her a nod of acknowledgment, he turned to address them. “Thank you for your service, keepers. The Gods’ blessing be upon you for your hard work.”

He gave his daughters a nudge and they spoke as well, their voices quiet, Laena joining them with a smile and a nod. “Thank you.”

Their elder gave him a bow. “Thank you, Prince Daemon.”

Turning to face his niece again, she let out a puzzled laugh. “You are a changed man, uncle.”

He gave her a slight smile. “I suppose children do that to a man. However, I fear it was a bit too much excitement for the children already. They are quite ready for a nap. You must excuse us for we must return to Driftmark already.”

His precious daughters, well accustomed to Daemon using their tiredness as an excuse to get out of any number of situations, gave twin yawns and nestled themselves against his chest sleepily.

His niece shrugged. “Would that you could stay longer. We shall have to catch up properly once we are all back in King’s Landing.”

Laena saved him from a response. “Oh, are you coming as well?”

Rhaenyra smiled at them. “I wouldn’t miss the tourney in honor of my uncle’s son for the world.”

Daemon cursed in the privacy of his mind. Rhaenyra rarely returned to the Red Keep after the death of Ser Harwin and he had hoped it would remain the same. He had no wish to experience more of the strange hostility Laena seemed to exude in her presence.

He gave her a pained smile. “It will be good to see you there, niece.”

There was a quiet fury about Laena as they returned to High Tide and handed the excited girls back into Laenor’s care. When they returned to their chambers to change out of their riding leathers having deposited their son into the care of his nurse, Daemon expected an explosion.

Thus, he was rather pleasantly surprised when his wife pushed him into the wall, his head striking the stone as her lips assaulted him. He met her eagerly. When her hands reached for his clothes, he returned the favor and started to guide them to their bed. After all, if Laena judged her body recovered well enough, who was Daemon to tell her differently?

“Daemon!”

He separated from Laena and hanged his head in resignation. That was not the voice of his wife.

“Cousin, could I perhaps persuade you to come back later?”

“Most definitely not! What do you think you are doing?! Do you know no restraint?”

Daemon was exerting an uncommon amount of restraint in his humble opinion.

He rested his forehead on Laena’s red one and sighed. “What is it that I can do for you, dear cousin?”

He could hear the judgment in her voice. “Other than letting my daughter be?”

“Yes, other than that,” was gritted out through his clenched teeth.

“What is this folly I hear of visiting Dragonstone?”

Daemon sighed again and let Laena go as he realized there was no ridding themselves of Rhaenys.

“We did visit Dragonstone with the children. We went to present them to Vermithor and Silverwing as we once were.”

“You should have waited until Laena is better recovered!”

Daemon’s irritation got the better of him and he snapped back. “Wait until when?! We are leaving for King’s Landing soon and who knows when my brother decides to exile me next! There are no eggs to be given to my children unless Vhagar brings forth a clutch! What else was I supposed to do?”

Rhaenys reared back at his words, her eyes wide, though she relaxed some as an understanding dawned. “You mean for your children to claim them.”

Laena’s voice was conciliatory. “They are a bit too young for that but the presentation went well, I think. Silverwing and Vermithor took to the children well enough.”

Rhaenys’ head was already shaking before her daughter finished speaking. “I do not think you fully understand what your husband did. They are old dragons. The memory of their riders fades but they remember the blood. Daemon is a child of their riders’ children, as close to them in blood as possible and you…you are their great-grandchild but also a Velaryon. Jaehaerys and Alysanne had a Targaryen father and a Velaryon mother, as your children have.” She snorted. “The dragons likely believe them to be their riders come again. They will not accept another rider while they know them to be somewhere out there.”

Laena smiled at her words. “Then all is well, is it not? They need not eggs to hatch.”

Rhaenys rolled her eyes. “Did you already forget why the king was here? He means to let his son claim a dragon. Daemon knows that. By this little visit, he ensured that there will be no tame dragon for Aemond to claim.”

Daemon shrugged. “How unfortunate. Alas, the king has any number of eggs he can provide his son.”

His cousin glared at him. “And you know well that he will not do so when he thinks there to be grown dragons available to him.”

He gave her a look of wide-eyed innocence. “I am hardly responsible for whatever folly my brother believes.”

His cousin left them in a huff.

Laena frowned at the door as it closed behind her mother and bit her lip. “Was that truly why we went to Dragonstone? Why did you not tell me?”

He shrugged again. “I could not be sure of their reaction. I did not wish to raise your hopes needlessly.”

“My mother seemed to believe it guaranteed.”

A snort escaped him. “Your mother has a higher opinion of my knowledge of dragonlore than I have myself.”

Chapter Text

“Kepa?” A child’s voice interrupted Daemon’s brooding as he stood staring out the window at the ships being loaded once again. This time it would be them leaving.

“Hm?”

There was a tug on his clothes and so he turned away from the window to look down at the face of Addam of Hull.

“What does kepa mean? Baela and Rhaena call you that. They say that we can call you that too.” There was a frown on his face.

He lowered himself to his haunches as the other children stared at him. “They are right, you can. It means father in Valyrian or uncle. High Valyrian does not distinguish between the two.” At least not on the paternal side but he had little wish to confuse them further. “As your father is my good-brother, I am your kepa too.”

Addam tilted his head in consideration of Daemon before giving him a smile and bouncing off. “Alright, kepa.”

Naerys was still looking at him with a frown and so he turned to her next. “What is it, little one?”

“If they all call you kepa, what should I call you?”

“I suppose you can call me kepa as well.”

Her face twisted in a fierce scowl. “But you’re not. I got no family.” He smiled at her. Her language was already improving.

He thought of what her presence had meant to him in those dark moons before his death. He thought of what he meant to be to her and what he meant to give her and asked her very softly. “Don’t you, now?”

Tears filled her eyes as she stared at him and she bit her trembling lip. He laid a hand atop her shoulder lightly and she threw herself around his neck, sobbing. He looked to the other children, looking at them with open curiosity, and brought up a hand to pat her back. “There, there. No need to cry.”

“Thank you, kepa.” There was a bit more sniffling before she let him go and bounced off too.

He smiled after her sadly and lowered himself to the ground completely.

There was a time when only Rhaenyra called him that. A time when he believed she would ever be the only child to do so. A time when there was no hope of escaping his childless marriage. A time when Viserys, so focused on getting a son, ignored his daughter so completely that Daemon thought to replace him in her heart. Taking her on her first flight on Caraxes, teaching her all about mastering Syrax and the history of their House, doing with her all the things her father should have done, and spoiling her beyond imagination as only an uncle could afford.

That time was gone. It had been for a long time, yet Daemon had been unable and unwilling to rid himself of that need to make himself the first in her heart still until shortly before his death. He would have done anything for her. He had done everything for her. But he would not have killed the girl he came to see as another daughter, who helped preserve his sanity during those moons in the Riverlands, who had been innocent of any wrongdoing, for her.

And finally, as Daemon had plummeted to his death, he had been finally free of trying to buy himself Rhaenyra’s love.

As the ship that would take them all to King’s Landing cast off, Laenor’s sons fought to maintain a brave face in the face of the unknown. Baela and Rhaena were bouncing along the deck in anticipation of a new adventure, their enthusiasm in stark contrast to the somber mood reigning among the adults.

Daemon looked at Driftmark growing smaller in the distance with a heavy heart. He would miss it. Life was certainly simpler there than it would be in the Red Keep where danger would be ever-present and every word spoken could hide a lethal trap. He did not feel ready. He doubted he ever would be.

The city, when they finally sighted it, looked no different to what it had been before he left for the Stepstones, no different to what it had been during the Usurper’s reign when he came to conquer it and it opened its gates to him. His brother might have forgotten all that he did for him but the city and the City Watch remembered. They remembered him and they welcomed him.

He would make sure that they had a reason to still. Loyalty after all should be rewarded. And betrayal taken care of.

The approaching tourney had the docks even busier than usual as they approached and they had a lengthy wait before the dockmaster allowed them entry into the harbor and a place at a pier. The wait itself unusual for the Velaryon ships were regular enough visitors to have their own berths assigned. As Corlys cursed up a storm, Daemon shared a look with his cousin. The welcome awaiting them was meant to send a message.

When they finally disembarked, there was no one to receive them. There were no horses or wagons to take them or their baggage to the Red Keep. An amused smile spread across Daemon’s face as a harbormaster stuttered his apologies to the furious Sea Snake. The Hand was trying to ruin Daemon’s disposition towards his brother and the Hand himself before they ever even reached the Keep.

He clasped his good-father on the shoulder with a widening smile. “Worry not, Corlys. This gives us an opportunity to show the children the city we would not have otherwise. Surely they’ll enjoy the market. Once we reach the Red Keep, we will send for the rest.”

And so, the Rogue Prince, his lady wife, the Queen That Never Was, the Sea Snake, and the various children in their care left the harbor for the Red Keep on foot, an action rarely taken by anyone quartering there, much less those seated on the King’s Small Council or his kin. They were followed by but a few members of Velaryon household guard, doubtless insulted on their behalf.

Daemon, recognized by the gold cloaks stationed at the River Gate, was greeted with great enthusiasm as were his companions. A rush of shocked whispers passed among the mass of people at the return of the Prince of The City and spread out into the city itself like a forest fire.

When they entered the Fishmonger’s Square, the vendors there crowded around them offering their fares, hoping for a rich sale. They browsed the many stalls and the Velaryon guards became quickly overburdened by the many purchases, Daemon’s and Corlys’ money pouches lightened considerably. As the children dashed from stall to stall, attracted by this display or that item, Daemon followed after them with a smile, satisfied. Children were a treasure.

Having finally exhausted themselves and the square’s wares, Daemon picked his daughters up and left the square with his wife by his side, leaving behind the many blessings called out after them. They found the path ahead of them lined by gold.

He stepped forward, his voice carrying. “The King has named me to his Small Council as the Master of Laws. Together we will make this great city greater still. It is good to be back, men!”

A cheer rose high above the roofs and butts of spears met the ground.

As they walked along the Hook and up Aegon’s Hill to the very gates of the Red Keep, there were gold cloaks lining their path still. Daemon gave them all a smile and a nod as they passed, Laena’s smile warm by his side and their girls waving enthusiastically.

The Hand of the King was waiting for them at the steps to the Red Keep, the expression on his face sour. “Welcome to King’s Landing, Prince Daemon, Princess Rhaenys, Lord Corlys, Lady Laena.”

Daemon pointedly looked back to the gate behind them and turned to him with a bright smile. “Thank you, Otto. I could not be more grateful for your warm welcome.”

His face turned sourer still.

Chapter Text

“The King is awaiting your presence in the throne room. He has been waiting for some time now.”

“Well then, we should not keep him waiting any longer, should we, Otto? Lead the way.”

As the irritated Hand turned away from them. They moved to follow. When they reached the great door to the throne room, Daemon placed his daughters back on the ground and still crouched, grabbed Baela by her shoulder, looked directly into her eyes, and pointed a finger in her face. “Behave.” Her giggle and an eye-roll was his only sign of acknowledgment.

He straightened as the door started to open and they were announced to the King.

“Prince Daemon of House Targaryen with his lady wife, Lady Laena Velaryon, and their children. Lord Corlys of House Velaryon, Lord of the Tides, Master of Driftmark, and his lady wife, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen.”

Whispers followed them as they moved through the hall to stand before Viserys and they bowed as one. The king gave them all a happy smile. “Welcome back to King’s Landing and the court. We have missed you, brother, cousin, Lord Corlys.”

Daemon bowed his head with a smile in a sign of acknowledgment and spoke deferentially. “We thank you for your warm welcome, Your Grace. We apologize for keeping you waiting but our escort seems to have been waylaid.” He turned to his children. “Let me present to you my son, Aemon, and my daughters, Baela and Rhaena.” He touched each of his children’s heads in a light caress.

Viserys smiled at them benevolently and stood from the throne. “Let us all welcome Prince Aemon, Princess Baela, and Princess Rhaena to court!” A muted clapping rose at his words.

As he turned to return to sit on the throne, his gaze fell on the children standing with Corlys and Rhaenys. “And who would this be?”

Daemon let out a soft chuckle as he beckoned them forward, touching their shoulders. “These are my pages, Addam and Alyn of Hull.” Dressed as they were in reversed Velaryon colors, there would be little doubt as to who they were. “And this is Naerys, my ward, and companion to my daughters.”

The smile on Viserys’ face grew strained. “I see.”

Rhaenys stepped forward to place her hands on her grandsons’ shoulders protectively. “We thank you for your warm welcome, Your Grace.”

The smile grew even more strained at her actions.

They were assigned chambers in Maegor’s, Daemon quite amused at finding himself in his old chambers, looking exactly as he had left them. He had never returned to them after Viserys had exiled him for the last time. A delicate cough sounded behind him as he stood there with his wife. “I would show your wife to her rooms now, my prince.”

He turned, startled. “That will not be necessary. She will remain here.”

“But the Queen…” Daemon interrupted, annoyance rising quickly. “I said that separate chambers would not be necessary. You may leave now, thank you.”

His eyes followed Laena as she made a few steps into the room, looking around curiously. “How very… Targaryen.” He followed after her as her steps took her to the bedchamber and she let out a laugh. “Truly, do you know no other colors than black and red?”

He rolled his eyes and shrugged unrepentantly. “I am also known to be partial to the color gold.”

She laughed at him in earnest then.

The chambers would not retain their bare appearance for long anyway, trunks with their belongings filling them up.

As she threw herself down on the bed, face full of wonder, he joined her there to stare up at the canopy. Her voice was barely audible. “I still can’t believe our children are a prince and princesses.” In truth, neither could Daemon. His brother enjoyed feasts and tourneys and he expected those but he did not believe he would truly keep with granting his son the title, much less include his daughters too. Viserys rarely remembered his promises when his Hand got involved. He reached for her hand and held her.

They stayed like that for a time before Daemon spoke up with some reluctance. “I should head to the Dragonpit to settle the dragons.”

She turned her head with a scrunched nose. “In your traveling clothes?”

He laughed. “Our trunks are not here, wife. Do you expect our dragons to patiently circle above the city while we await them?”

She propped herself up on one arm with a petulant twist to her lips and raised a brow. “Well, what if I wished to ride a dragon?”

His eyes darkened as he caught her meaning and he drew her to himself. “You could hardly be expected to do that in our traveling clothes.”

Their lips barely touched when the door to the bedchamber banged open and Laena jumped away from him. His head hit the bed.

“Daemon, we need to attend to the dragons.”

He growled. “Cousin, I truly must insist that you announce yourself before entering our chambers.”

He heard her snort as she left. He felt the bed shaking and rose, looking at his wife, betrayed.

Rhaenys kept her tongue while they were in the keep but once Daemon rode out with her for the Dragonpit, she could no longer remain silent in her disapproval.

“Daemon, do you truly need reminding to control your urges? Let Laena recover in peace.”

“I believe your daughter the best judge of her recovery, cousin. I assure you I restrained myself well enough for a moon already.”

She turned to him scandalized with a fierce glare. “Daemon! Your son was born only a moon ago!”

He wisely kept his mouth shut as he felt his ears redden at what he admitted. A need to defend himself was strong but the only defense he had would hardly endear him to Rhaenys, merely make her think he lost his wits. So he bade his horse into a quick trot and left her to catch up.

She would have little chance to continue her scolding at the Dragonpit, Daemon determined and was already in conversation with the dragonkeepers when she got off her horse to join him. While her glare spoke volumes, he pretended to be ignorant of it for there were larger issues at hand.

While the three dragons that accompanied them from Driftmark were used to roam freely and nest unchained, the dragonkeepers informed them, that there could be no unchained dragons within the pit. The King declared so due to the age and lack of training of the dragons currently residing there and it seemed that no amount of cajoling would get the keepers to bend to Daemon’s and Rhaenys’ wishes. They were especially wary as additional dragons were set to arrive from Dragonstone the next day and there was little love lost between them and the ones at the pit already.

Daemon left the Dragonpit in a huff, no closer to settling the dragons than when he arrived, his cousin closely behind him.

“This is preposterous! The dragons are tame and old besides, they will not attack another dragon unprovoked.”

He agreed with his cousin but did not think his brother would understand their disgust at limiting their dragons’ freedom in such a way. He sighed and shook his head. This had never been an issue in his youth, not even in dragons that lost their riders. Vhagar had been left chainless when his father had died and Daemon had visited her often enough before she had grown to accept that his father would not return and had left the pit behind.

“Come, cousin, let us return to the Red Keep. I believe I know where the dragons can nest in peace and be accessible enough to us.”

She raised her brows at him, amused. “Do you mean to stable them at the Red Keep instead of horses?”

He laughed. “No. There is a hidden cove that is accessible by tunnels leading from the Maegor’s. It should be sufficient in size for all three and they can hunt freely from there.”

Daemon had little wish to attend the feast that evening. Alas, it was thrown in honor of their return to court and therefore inescapable. He envied the children, either too young or deemed too low to attend.

He approached his wife as she stood ready in front of a mirror to place a kiss on the side of her neck and rest his head on her shoulder. “Promise me you will affect weakness or illness or dying so we need not remain long.” She threw her head back as she laughed at his words.

She brought his head up to lay a hand on his cheek and give his nose a kiss. “I promise I shall keep you distracted.”

He let his head fall back to her shoulder with a groan. “Rhaenys is going to kill me.”

Chapter Text

Laena could well understand her husband’s lack of enthusiasm at the thought of attending the feast. She would much prefer if they were to dine with her parents and children in private without the intrusive eyes sitting at the high table invited. Her last time at the King’s table had been for her brother’s wedding celebrations and that entire affair had proven itself a horrible experience.

She held her head high as she entered the hall on her husband’s arm, smiling gracefully. She was a lady of high birth after all and it would not do to show any of her inner turmoil on her face. But there was something wrong. Something was niggling at the back of her mind, causing her disquiet. Her mind working even as she sat at the King’s table and sampled the many dishes served, unable to taste even a bite of them.

When the dancing started, she turned to her husband, in need of movement. His eyes were fastened at her, worried and she gave him a smile that clearly did nothing to assuage his concern for he leaned close to her ear. “Laena, are you alright?”

She gave him another smile which trembled around the edges and threatened tears for reasons unknown even to her. “I would merely like to dance.”

His brows lowered in a frown but he rose from his seat and offered her a hand up. “Then would you grant me the honor?”

She gave him a truer smile at that, gave him her hand, and rose as well to follow him to join the dancers.

As they spun across the floor, her mind kept spinning still and when the tune changed and the music slowed, she had to rest her head on her husband’s chest to chase away dizziness.

Daemon embraced her and held her. She did not see his face but she knew his eyes would be shining with worry which she did not wish to see. No, he treated her as if she would break any moment for long enough. Ever since he had woken that morning before Aemon’s birth he had treated her like a precious thing that would disappear the moment his attention turned away.

Laena closed her eyes in pain and suddenly knew what it was that her mind kept worrying at. A sickness rose in her.

Her voice was very weak when she spoke. “Daemon, I want to leave.”

“Are you ill?”

Her hands clenched the fabric of his doublet on his chest. “I think I might be.”

She could feel herself being picked up in his arms and a sudden rise in whispers but she kept her eyes closed and her head buried in her husband’s clothes as he carried her away with haste. She could not face the world now.

They remained silent until they reached their chambers and he laid her on the bed. “Do you think it was something you ate? Should I fetch a maester?”

She mutely shook her head and finally looked at him as the words they had spoken sounded in her head.

“Everyone you cared about was dead or changed. What about me and our children?”

“You were dead. The children scattered beyond my reach.”

Her husband was a dreamer.

The morning before Aemon’s birth he had woken and could not believe her there.

Daemon had known the fate of their children in that dream.

And yet it was Laena that had named Aemon. Daemon had had no name to give him.

“In your dream… How did I die?”

Shock replaced worry in his eyes and they skittered away from her. “Does it matter?”

A fury seized her and she launched herself at him to beat at his chest. “Of course, it matters! How come you knew the fate of our children, of Helaena’s children, yet did not know how to name your son?!”

His wince at her words gave her satisfaction and she raised her chin in defiant expectation, her voice cold. “I want your answer.”

Her worried parents entered the bedchamber to see her tear-stained face glaring at Daemon’s back.

Her father’s voice was fury itself. “What in the Gods’ name is going on here?!”

Her voice was calm and colder than the heart of winter. “What is going on is that my husband is a dreamer and he will not tell me how I died. How he could know the fate of our children, yet not know what to name our son.”

Daemon was shaking his head even while she spoke. “I am no dreamer.”

“Oh, truly, then tell me how you know of this great war that is coming. That Rhaenyra and Aegon will wage against each other.” He flinched but a fury seemed to enter him as well as he turned to her and she was glad. She was glad that he was finally showing appropriate emotion.

“I know it because I lived it. I lived it and died it. I lived through you choosing Vhagar’s flames over fighting for your life! I lived through my brother dying, a rotting corpse years before death finally took him! I lived through your mother’s dragon being torn apart by Vhagar and Sunfyre, your mother’s body broken and burned and unrecognizable! I lived through my niece turning into another Maegor as her losses mounted!”

Something in him changed and his voice became softer. “And I died. I died when I took Caraxes and finally killed Vhagar and her accursed rider. But not before they reduced Riverlands to nothing but ashes. And as I jumped off Caraxes’ back to kill that bastard, I knew I would die and I died gladly! For I could not bear to live another day in that accursed world!”

Her husband’s chest was heaving with great breaths but she could not breathe herself. She suddenly wished she had not asked.

He closed his eyes and finished in a defeated voice. “I died as I plunged into the Gods Eye but then I woke and there you were.” He sat on the bed and dropped his face into his hands.

Laena was crying. Daemon was likely crying too so she approached him and hugged him from behind and spoke into his ear. “And here I am.”

“What?” It was the horrified voice of her father that spoke. Laena had forgotten about her parents’ presence completely.

Chapter Text

“Kepa.” Laena was torn. She was torn between staying with her husband and throwing herself into her father’s arms so he could protect her from every evil like he had when she had been just a little girl.

Her father seemed to be barely standing himself. Pale and wide-eyed and breathing quick shallow breaths. He stood in stark contrast to her mother who was deathly still as if carved from marble, pale and unmoving. If she breathed, Laena could not see it.

Her father spoke again. “What…” and her mother finally came to life, her voice harsh. “No! We will not speak of this here anymore!”

She turned to Laena’s husband. “Daemon, I need you to guide us to the dragons. We can speak there.”

He shook his head and remained as he was so Laena spoke into his ear softly. “Please, Daemon, we need to talk about this. Please.”

He turned his head to hers and so she continued. “I am here. My mother is here. My father is here. We will not let it happen, do you hear me? You are not alone. We are all here with you.”

He took a shuddering breath and straightened his back, eyes still closed. Then he snapped his eyes open and got up abruptly, speaking in a gravelly voice. “Very well, let us go.”

She stared after him, gaping, as he went to lock the door with them still inside and then moved directly to the wall next to the hearth to take a torch from a scone. She let out a gasp as the wall opened and hurried off the bed when he disappeared in the opening, her mother already moving to follow him.

Laena hastened after them into the hidden corridor, her father the last to enter and closing the wall behind them. Her eyes roamed the darkness around her, trying to catch on something, anything, the feeling eerie, the light her husband carried flickering in the distance. Daemon led them in silence none of them dared break.

The sounds of the sea, waves washing against the shore were the first sounds besides the sound of their feet stepping on the gravel beneath them for the longest time. Then she heard the low rumbling of dragons in slumber and she felt a smile rise to her face despite everything. Vhagar’s sleepy rumble loudest still and calming her instantly. Vhagar was here, she was not dead, and no monster had taken her… yet.

The dragons came slowly awake as they emerged onto the beach where they rested and Daemon wordlessly directed Caraxes to guard the opening they came from. He came to stand at the edge of the water, waves gently lapping at his feet as he stared out to sea, silence unbroken.

Laena looked to her parents, unsure.

It was her mother that finally spoke and she could not be more grateful even though it was Laena she addressed. “You knew of this.”

She kept her eyes on her husband. “Yes. He told me some of it after the king’s visit to Driftmark.”

Her mother approached her cousin as one would a wild dragon and laid a careful hand on his stiff shoulder. “When did you first start to dream?” Her voice was impossibly soft.

“I told you. I am not a dreamer.” His voice was rough and angry but her mother was not deterred.

“And yet what you describe is exactly that.”

“It was not a dream. It was my life, my actions, my death.”

“Well, how about you start from the beginning then?”

There was a pause before he did.

“Laena never returned from Pentos. She died there. She labored and labored but the babe would not come. I was given a choice, the same choice my brother made but I could not. In the end, she took it out of my hands. She walked out of the birthing chamber and she ordered Vhagar to burn her right in front of my eyes and I was powerless to stop it.”

And Laena could see it. Could see herself making that decision. Could feel Vhagar’s pain at the order. Could see her husband brought to his knees at his and she spoke up. “But it did not happen.”

“No. It did not. I woke up after I died and you were there and I was convinced it was the afterlife. I did not know what I did to deserve it and I did not care because you were there.” He let out a bitter laugh. “Do you know the only thing that I did differently then?” Laena did not. “I would never dare lay with you that close to your labors and yet what did it matter in the afterlife? And the babe came.” He laughed a laugh filled with bitterness and pain. “To think… I could have spared myself and our daughters so much pain if I had just fucked my pregnant wife.”

Laena’s cheeks were flaming in the darkness and she dared not look to her parents. Her mother’s hand still rested on Daemon’s shoulder.

“We consigned you to the sea in the tradition of your House at Driftmark. The king and his family came. Your funeral was not yet over when the Kinslayer claimed Vhagar.” Sharp intakes of breath came from her and her mother. To a dragonrider, that was the highest sign of disrespect.

“Aemond, that is the Kinslayer you speak of.” He gave a short nod. “Why? Why Kinslayer?”

“When my brother died… They did not call for the Silent Sisters to attend him. They did not burn him. They closed the gates to the city. They arrested Lords loyal to Rhaenyra and they killed Beesbury for objecting. For over a sennight, they let my brother rot in his bed until the stench in the Red Keep could not be ignored nor covered anymore. They crowned the Usurper and called for the Lords to swear their fealty and only then wrote to Rhaenyra. We had the numerical advantage when it came to dragons but Vhagar unbalanced the scales. And so Rhaenyra sent her two eldest sons on their dragons to garner the support of Lords Paramount. Luke was sent to Storms’ End for that was considered the safest trip. He encountered the Kinslayer there. Borros Baratheon sent Luke away and let the Kinslayer pursue him on Vhagar. Luke was not yet fourteen.”

Laena closed her eyes in pain.

Her mother spoke up with a frown. “How do we stop it?”

“It is already too late. My brother is a fool and always has been. The board was set long ago. The best we can hope is to stay out of it.” He laughed a mirthless laugh again. “You see, my brother believes himself a dreamer. And he believes...” He gave himself over completely to laughter. “He believes Aegon to be the prince that was promised. Aegon!” His laughter left him gasping for breath and yet he could not stop.

“Daemon! What is this foolishness?!” Her mother was not amused.

He calmed himself at last but had to wipe his eyes of tears of mirth before responding. “There is a Valyrian steel dagger that he has with a hilt of dragonbone. When you heat it, it shows some prophecy of the Conqueror’s. From my blood comes the prince that was promised and his will be the song of ice and fire.” Laena could hear the eye-roll in his voice. “It has been passed from king to heir since the Conqueror. Tell me, cousin, have you ever heard of it? I did not. My brother never considered me his heir in truth.”

Her mother was scowling. “I did not.”

“Ah, do you see now what fools we were, cousin?” Daemon was speaking to the sea still.

“Yes, I do.” She was squeezing his shoulder surely hard enough to hurt now.

For if Daemon had never been considered his brother’s heir in truth, neither had Rhaenys been considered her father’s.

Laena looked to her father who had remained silent throughout. He was still pale but his face was twisted in fury.

As the silence stretched, he finally spoke. “Are you telling me that my wife was slaughtered in a squabble between Viserys’ children?! All so that Rhaenyra could sit her bastard on the throne and in my seat?”

Daemon laughed again. “You don’t know even half of it. You fell ill some years before the war broke out. Before you recovered, your nephew Vaemond claimed that he was the only true heir to Driftmark as my niece’s sons were bastards. She had me seize him and then fed him to Syrax. When five of your nephews complained to the king, they had their tongues removed for suggesting the same. And as the war raged, High Tide and Spicetown were razed, Velaryon fortune and third of the fleet destroyed by the Triarchy.”

Laena could hardly contain her shock but her father was frowning rather than gaping. “Why would Vaemond do that? My heir is Laenor and that is clear enough.”

Daemon’s voice was distant. “Laenor died shortly after Laena.” And Laena could no longer contain her gasp. “What?”

“He was killed in an argument with Ser Qarl in the middle of a fair at Spicetown. I was generally suspected to have arranged it.” She gaped at her husband. “What? What reason could you possibly have to kill Laenor?”

Daemon shrugged, her mother’s hand dropping from his shoulder and he turned his face to the sky. “So I could marry Rhaenyra, apparently.”

She looked at her husband horrified. Why was he even telling them this?

Her mother’s hand came up to slap the back of his head, voice stern. “Stop trying to distract us!”

Chapter Text

It was a long night and promised to be longer still if Daemon did not cease with his childishness. They needed a plan of action and for that, they needed information only he had even if he was clearly in no fit state of mind to provide it.

Oh, the irony of it all. One cousin believing himself a dreamer on a folly, another being one in truth and denying it with every breath. For all his following the old religion and traditions, Daemon was a man of action and thus had always been skeptical when it came to dreams and prophecy. He believed himself a master of his own destiny and would bow to no such power.

Daemon could still be insane rather than a dreamer. He certainly sounded enough so at times. But there was a method to the way he revealed information this night and it was a method she grew to be well familiar with over the years.

“If you wished to discourage us from your side, perhaps you should not have married my daughter. Alas, now you are stuck with us as we are with you.” Her voice hardened. “And if you believe we are about to judge you for actions not yet taken then you are twice the fool you believe yourself to be.”

“Now, what is it you mean to do? Stay clear of the war and bow to the winner?”

He was shaking his head. “I do not know. Whoever wins, the realm loses. Our House loses more with Aegon, for any memory of our customs and our religion would die quickly with his reign and Hightower influence.” He shook his head again. “But Rhaenyra is little better. She herself may know our customs well enough but her sons know as little of Valyria and Valyrian as the Hightower spawn. Both have let the Andal blood grow too strong.” He snorted as he realized his own words. “In truth, I know not how to keep our House the House of dragonlords of old.”

She came to stand in front of him to take his face into her hands and look him in the eye. “We do that by living and by keeping the traditions and by teaching them to our children. I may have not done as well with my children as I mayhaps should have but there is time still and I will do better with my grandchildren. I can promise you that.”

She released his face and took a breath. “I think my daughter and you both have had an exhausting day already. I shall not ask more of you tonight but we will speak more soon. Go back. I will stay with Corlys some more. Leave the torch for us. I am sure you know your way around these tunnels even blindfolded.”

Laena was frowning at her at their dismissal but Daemon accepted it without argument. She did not expect otherwise from him since everything he told them that night was meant to shock them, to give him the upper hand and control of the conversation. To escape it.

She moved to take Daemon’s place and looked out to the sea. She remained silent for a long time after he had left with Laena.

“If what he dreamed is true, I will die before I let any of Viserys’ spawn take that throne and destroy the legacy of my family.”

Her husband came to her side and looked out to the sea with her. “Then we are in agreement.”

As she walked through the Red Keep next morn, she took care to note any changes. And she could see it. She could see where the Andal influence pushed out the Valyrian artwork so carefully safeguarded from the Doom and brought over from Dragonstone. She could see where dragon mosaics were replaced by seven-pointed stars. Worse, when she came to Balerion’s skull, not a single candle was lit and the place was poorly maintained. She must have been the first visitor in a very long time. She ran her fingertips through the dust gathering on the altar before giving a short prayer.

She reemerged into the busier corridors and walked the path she trod often when her father was the heir to the throne and her grandfather was the king. She had been eighteen and two years married and her father’s heir for all of her life when her father had died. She had believed that he had never treated her as any lesser for her sex and yet if what Daemon said was true…

Her father had not truly expected her to succeed him. As he had flown off into battle that had taken his life, he had not once mentioned to Rhaenys a secret prophecy. Indeed, when she cast her mind back to those times, the dagger had never been mentioned as something to be passed to her. And she had not cared for she had seen no value in it.

She needed to know.

And so she stood in front of the king’s solar and awaited being let in as she once stood and waited on being admitted to her father’s and grandfather’s presence.

She gave Viserys a smile and a light bow of her head as she entered. “Cousin. I came to see you in a reminiscent mood. Would you mind it terribly if I stayed here for a bit?”

He smiled at her and welcomed her to his chambers.

She shook her head with affected fondness. “I was walking the keep and I thought of grandfather’s dagger, the one with dragonbone hilt, do you remember it?”

Something in Viserys’ face shuttered. “Yes. I carry it with me always.”

“Would you mind terribly borrowing it to me for but a moment?”

His face became stern. “I think you know that I cannot, Rhaenys.”

Her face did not give away her disappointment but it was a close thing. He thought she knew.

She bit her lip and considered her next words carefully. “When did you come to learn of it?”

Who told you? When?

“My father showed it to me when he was named the heir.”

She felt a sharp pain pierce her heart. Oh, what fools they had been indeed.

She wandered blindly after leaving the king’s solar. She had always believed that it was the realm that rejected her and now she came to learn the truth. She preferred ignorance.

To think that in some other future, she would fight for the rights of another woman when she had not done so for her own. To think that she would lay down her life so that claim of her own blood would be erased.

Her lips twisted bitterly.

She understood now that no queen would rule in Westeros. Not Rhaenys. Not Rhaenyra. Not any other woman.

Yesterday Rhaenys had had little interest in involving herself in the affairs of the throne and the realm for it was the realm that rejected her for the throne.

Today she knew differently. Today she knew it was not the realm that rejected her but her grandfather and nothing would give her greater pleasure than to render what his Great Council wrought asunder.

Chapter Text

Daemon unerringly led Laena back to their chambers, holding her hand the entire way. He did not release her hand once there. Instead, he led her to the locked door of the bedchamber and then out of the chambers completely.

He did not release her even standing in front of the door to the chambers where their children rested, giving a nod to the Velaryon guards standing guard there. There were none at the door to their own chambers but he would assure that tomorrow. As they entered the main chamber, they could hear a soft voice coming from behind one of the doors and it was clear enough which chamber was the girls’.

Laena’s lips lifted in amusement as she headed there and raised a finger to her lips. They stood at the door, heads bowed together, and listened to their daughter’s voice softly singing. When she paused, Laena carefully pushed the door open.

Their daughters were both nested in their beds with the toy dragons they picked up at the market that day. Baela was sleeping peacefully with her face pressed into her toy. It was Rhaena who was lying awake in her bed, caressing the toy and singing to it in Valyrian.

He finally released Laena’s hand to go sit on Rhaena’s bed and run a hand through her hair. “Shouldn’t you be asleep, little dragon?”

She gave him a brilliant smile and thrust the toy into his face. “Will you sing your song to Silverwing? She liked it very much.” He heard Laena’s soft chuckle from the door. “Mayhaps another time. How would you like to come to sleep with your muña and kepa tonight?”

Her eyes widened in excitement. “Can Baela and Aemon come too?” He looked to her sleeping sister and then to her smiling mother. “Of course.” He picked up Baela, careful not to wake her, as Rhaena climbed from her bed. He turned to leave the chamber with her when Rhaena’s scandalized voice stopped him. “You can’t leave Moondancer behind!”

“Well, how about you take him? My hands are quite full.” He could tell she was pouting at him without looking but she did reach for the toy. They met Laena back in the main chamber as she emerged with Aemon. He was quite grateful that Rhaena did not argue a lack of a toy for him. The toy dragon the girls insisted on buying for their brother was almost twice the size of the babe.

The guards looked at them in surprise as they left the chambers and moved to follow them but Daemon waved them off. Let them stay at their post lest someone think his children or his wards an easy target. He could defend them in their chambers alone for one night if anyone was fool enough to try.

Daemon awoke to a stuffed toy being smashed against his face. “Will you sing to Silverwing now?” He cursed the idea to invite his daughters into his bed. A weight landed on his chest and his breath left him. “Will you sing to Moondancer too?”

“Where is your mother?” Judging by the lack of laughter as their daughters tortured him she was not in the chamber with them.

Rhaena’s bright voice answered him. “Don’t know. Aemon is gone too. Will you sing your song to Silverwing now?”

“Did you like the song that much?”

She shrugged. “Silverwing liked it very much.” Baela chimed in as well, outraged. “And Moondancer did not hear it yet!”

He sighed as he sat up and looked into Rhaena’s wide hopeful eyes. He sighed again. This was his own fault. He repeatedly showed weakness and he would be bullied forevermore.

He steeled himself against Rhaena’s pleading eyes. “How about we do something else?” Her lip started to tremble and her shoulders fell.

He closed his eyes in defeat. “Alright, but you have to help me sing. And then we will go about finding your mother.” The twins launched themselves around his neck and he received a knee to his ribs and stomach for his reward.

Laena returned to them before Daemon had a chance to free himself, already dressed, and watched them fondly from the doorway. At his pleading look, she moved forward to take over. “Come, let’s get you back to your nursery so you can get dressed and break your fast with Addam, Alyn, and Naerys.”

Daemon was getting dressed himself when she returned again, locking the door behind her. She remained there, back to the door, watching him.

He stepped up to her. “What is it?”

“You would have married her. Had I died. Had Laenor… You would have married her.”

He looked her in the eyes and nodded.

“Do you wish you could? I’ve seen how you acted on Dragonstone.”

He turned away from her and laughed, shaking his head. “I quite enjoy being married to you, thank you very much. I would not trade you for a dozen Rhaenyras.”

She frowned. “But on Dragonstone…”

“On Dragonstone I wished to visit the dragons. Rhaenyra could grant us a visit or turn us away.” He shrugged. “I’d known her long enough in this life and that to know what works and what does not. And you, dear wife, did everything in your power to make her throw us out.”

She raised her chin, unrepentant. “She was all over you! And you let her!”

He could not stop himself from rolling his eyes and he turned back to crowd her against the door. “Like I said, I know what works and what does not.” He smirked down at her. “Were you jealous, wife? Was that why you attacked me so when we returned to Driftmark?”

She glared up at him and pushed him away. “I was not jealous. I was angry. You are mine. Mine. Not hers.”

“I see. Not jealous then. Just possessive.” There was laughter in his voice.

She glared at him again and her tone was imperious. “Just so. Dragons do not share.”

He smiled at her words. “No, they do not.” His smile widened in mischief. “What is it you expect me to do then when she comes? I can hardly ignore her.”

Her eyebrow rose in a challenge. “Hardly?”

He laughed and bent down to kiss the tip of her nose. “So be it.”

Chapter Text

Otto smiled in amusement when he heard the news.

There was no egg placed in the cradle of the son of the Rogue Prince and it seemed his daughter had none either. The man so proud of being a dragonrider, of being the blood of Old Valyria and two of his own children would have no dragons of their own.

If they could bind the girl with one to themselves, the prince would be if not eliminated then at least lessened as a threat. Even creatures such as he might balk at waring against their own daughter and her eventual children. Daeron would be the ideal choice. It would not do to let the girl and therefore her father too close to the throne, after all.

He was quite satisfied with the plan. He would propose it in the Small Council meeting scheduled for later that day. Princess Rhaenyra was expected to arrive from Dragonstone with her sons before noon and attend the session as well. It would do well to raise the topic with the king before she had time to conspire with her uncle.

As he stood by the king’s side when Princess Rhaenyra was welcomed back to court, his smile was wide. Maybe she would not be as united with her uncle as he had originally thought them. The man attended court with his wife and her family, bringing the little Velaryon bastards as well. If the boys were truly sons of Laenor Velaryon and not his father as their closeness to Princess Rhaenys seemed to indicate, they surely put into stark contrast the features of Rhaenyra’s own bastards. The princess would not be happy with her uncle and yet Otto himself could not be happier.

As the princess moved to greet the prince and the Velaryons, he rejoiced at signs of hostility among the children before the elder Velaryons were able to quickly quell it. He enjoyed seeing the prince’s attention firmly directed downward toward the children rather than his niece too. She took notice and her annoyance was clear for everyone to see, her lips gaining a petulant twist.

Even with the Rogue Prince and the Sea Snake present, the council was bound to be a rewarding time. He could hardly wait.

When he entered the council chamber later that day, he was not surprised to find the king and his wife already there. The princess came shortly thereafter and though she had no official position on the King’s Council, he had long learned better than to object it. As the places filled, it came as no surprise that the king’s brother and his good-father would be the last to arrive. However, Princess Rhaenys accompanying them did.

A minute frown flashed across Otto’s features before he could stop it.

The king did not object and accepted her presence with grace, welcoming her along with the new Master of Laws and Master of Ships.

There were entirely too many females in the council chamber now for his tastes. They were bound to interfere with his plans. He would have to work fast if he wished to achieve what he set out to.

“Your grace, I would like to again express my gratitude for the invitation to join your council once more after all this time. However, before we turn to the topics of governing the realm, I would ask to discuss a matter close to my heart.”

The king smiled a warm smile at the Sea Snake and bade him continue as if speaking with an old friend rather than the snake he truly was.

“I am an old man, Your Grace, and a matter of inheritance has weighed on my mind heavily for some time now. While the succession to the Iron Throne is secured quite well with my three grandsons, this is hardly true for Driftmark. I might train Lucerys for his role well enough but were anything to happen to his older brother, he would be taken from me as my heir and I would be left to begin again anew with Joffrey.” Corlys Velaryon shook his head in apparent sadness. “The succession of the Iron Throne is quite secure but it is made so at the expense of the succession to the Driftmark. I would therefore ask Your Grace to allow the lordship of Driftmark to pass to my eldest child, my daughter Laena upon my death.”

The request seemed to come unexpected even to the Rogue himself.

Otto could hardly believe his luck. “You wish to disinherit your only son?”

The Sea Snake looked at him in surprise. “Disinherit, my Lord Hand? Laenor will be King Consort. His sons are royal princes. I would hardly call that disinheritance.”

“And yet you would place his sister before him.”

“His older sister, my Lord Hand.”

He snorted at such a thinly veiled plot. “And yet you would expect it to pass to Prince Aemon after her ahead of his older sisters, would you not?”

Corlys Velaryon smiled at him. “Not at all. Driftmark would pass from Laena to her oldest child, her daughter Baela.” The Sea Snake shrugged his shoulders. “Baela would be expected to shed her father’s name upon her marriage anyway. Let her and her husband take the Velaryon name.”

Were Otto a less skilled courtier, he would have gaped at him. There was a minute twitch in Prince Daemon’s eyebrow. The prince was clearly not expecting any of this either. It would seem that Velaryons were desperate enough to preserve Driftmark for their blood to pass it not once but twice into the hands of a woman. He wanted to laugh.

It was then that Princess Rhaenyra spoke up with a smile. “There is little need for that if she is betrothed to Lucerys. Let us betroth my sons to your daughter’s daughters and there is little need for any of this.”

“No.” The answer was short and swift and came from her uncle. Otto was amazed.

Now was his time to press his proposal. If Driftmark were to pass to a woman, it would be even more to bind the girl to them.

“If Princess Baela is to hold Driftmark securely, she will need a strong husband by her side to support her. I believe a betrothal with Prince Daeron would best ensure that.”

Many at the table seemed startled at his words and turned to look at him, including his own daughter.

The Rogue looked him directly in the eyes and spoke “No” yet again.

So he deemed the prince too low? “Prince Aemond then.”

The Velaryons twitched. And as Prince Daemon curled his lip in a snarl and opened his mouth to refuse him again, Otto quickly supplemented his offer. “And a betrothal between Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaena as well.”

The prince reared back in his chair and stared at him. Otto felt hope spark as he seemed to be struck speechless for a moment.

But then he burst out into a hearty laughter and gave another emphatic “No” in answer.

He seemed to collect himself only at the king’s stern “Daemon!”

He shook his head and took some time before collecting himself enough to speak with the corners of his lips still twitching. “Forgive me, Your Grace, but both my wife and I have long and bitter experience of unwanted arrangements. I have no intention to subject my children to such. Any of my children.”

The king looked saddened by the news. “Are you sure? It would gladden my heart to see your daughters marry my sons or grandsons, to see our blood united.”

The prince shook his head. “I will leave it to my children to make the choice for themselves and whomever they choose, should they meet with my approval, they will be free to marry.”

Well, it would seem that the prince truly was in love with his wife, unlike Otto had believed, to make such a statement for their children.

The princess too looked unhappy with the news, though she seemed angered rather than saddened by it. Her lips were pressed together firmly and her countenance became entirely stiff.

Otto took heart in that and turned to the frowning king. “Your Grace, there is little cause not to grant Lord Corlys his wish.”

It could only serve them well for the Lord of the Tides to remember who assured that Driftmark remained Velaryon in truth, not in just a name. And even the whore could not complain about it under the conditions given for while it was clearly done to exclude her bastards, with her uncle’s trueborn son preceded as well, few would be fools enough to remark so.

While he was not successful in binding the Rogue Prince to their cause in even the loosest of bonds, whatever cords bound the niece and uncle together seemed to be loosening as well. Otto could laugh and he would, once in the privacy of his own apartments. But first, he would visit the royal sept right after the meeting to give thanks to the Gods for this development. 

Chapter Text

Daemon walked out of the first Small Council meeting after his years-long absence utterly perplexed. Not only would be Driftmark going to Laena upon the death of her father, it would be then passed down to Baela as their eldest child. It was everything he could have wished for before Aemon’s birth. And while he was not exactly keen on his son not inheriting, he was not worried either. Were Vermithor truly to bond with him in the future, there would be no door left closed to him.

He originally intended to hand the Stepstones into the care of his wards were any of them to come to claim a dragon eventually but they would not be a necessarily bad choice for Aemon either. He grimaced at the thought. He would much prefer a more pleasant seat for his son. The Stepstones could be considered a too large gift for a baseborn but for a prince, it would be almost an exile. It certainly had been for him.

He would have to think on it and there was time enough for that in the future. Worse come to worst, he would make his own way in life like Daemon himself did. And even though there had been more than enough pain and straining and striving in his life, he was certainly not complaining about the current state of affairs.

He needed to tell Laena. She would be beyond herself with happiness. She was so proud of all that her family and especially her father had built so painstakingly and the fact that her children would not stand to inherit it had ever been the only true source of dissatisfaction she allowed herself.

He moved to take the shortest path to their chambers and hopefully, the place his wife would be only to be stopped by the voice of his niece. “Uncle.”

He cursed his luck and stopped. “Niece.” He did not turn.

She came to stand by his side and gave him a strained smile. “It is good to have you back in King’s Landing. Do you see now how they attack me from each side? They would even steal my sons’ inheritance.”

Daemon blinked. She could not truly be coming to him to complain about this? “Your sons are Targaryens and their inheritance is the Iron Throne and Dragonstone. No one is taking that away from them.”

“And what about their father’s inheritance? Driftmark should be Luke’s!”

Daemon bit down on his tongue to prevent the immediate reply and started walking at a brisk pace towards Maegor’s. “I doubt that Corlys would do this if Laenor raised any objections.”

Besides, Luke had never wanted to be the Lord of Driftmark anyway. He had been seasick and miserable whenever on a ship.

She walked with him and laid a hand on his arm to turn him towards her and looked at him intimately. “It is not too late yet, uncle. I must ask you to reconsider the betrothals. Let us bind our blood as it should be and together face the Greens.”

That would not happen. Not now, when his daughters had a chance to get what should have belonged to them in the first place without a need for any husbands. Not now, when he could ensure they would not be bound to a path that could only end in unhappiness at best, tragedy at worst.

“My daughters will be free to determine their own fate, as their mother and I were not.”

She remained silent, frowning for a long enough while to make him hopeful for the end of the discussion. But then she continued with a smile. “Your daughters would be happy enough with my sons. They are fine Valyrian princes and I can think of no others worthy of them.”

He had bound himself to Rhaenyra in blood once to ensure that the future husbands of his daughters would be worthy of them. He had come to care for those boys as his own and yet he would have never called them fine Valyrian anything. They were certainly not as they were now, growing up between King’s Landing and Dragonstone yet never seeming to reach for any of their Valyrian heritage beyond their dragons. He could still well remember his cringes as they would butcher Valyrian even after years of his tutoring. He could not guess at Rhaenyra’s reasoning for neglecting their education in such a horrific way.

She must have misinterpreted his silence for an agreement. “So you see, uncle, the betrothal is the best way forward. Your daughter would still get to be the Lady Velaryon and inheritance would remain Luke’s as it should be.”

She shook her head with a laugh. “This all is truly preposterous. Laenor is the heir clear enough. For his sister to inherit before him…” She shook her head again. “What has the world come to.”

He stared at her. She could not be this blind, surely. He spoke slowly. “Laena is Laenor’s elder and her father’s chosen heir, as are you.”

She laughed at his words. “That is different. We are the blood of the dragon, uncle. Velaryons are not.”

He stopped and turned to face her completely. “Laena and Laenor Velaryon are both dragonriders. Their mother is a Targaryen princess. Mine own cousin. They are our closest kin. I assure you they are the blood of the dragon.”

She stepped closer to him and let go of his arm to lay her hands on his chest. “But not like we are.” She looked up into his eyes imploringly, full of confidence in her words and Daemon suddenly realized his mistake.

In his lessons to her, he had spoken too much of the blood, too little of the customs, too little of the religion. He had spoken in Valyrian but not of Valyria. He had spoken of the blood and the dragons, speaking not enough of the fires that forged them and the price. And the price has been paid with blood magic resounded in his head.

He remembered the bloody tree at Harrenhal.

He took her hands into his own. “No, not like we are. They are the old, the true, the brave. They remember.”

He removed her hands from his chest and took a step back.

And he left.

They were already in Maegor’s when he left her and therefore thankfully not far to their rooms. Daemon was grateful for small mercies. He did not believe he was up to facing anyone else at the moment.

He found Laena in the children’s rooms, demonstrating the Valyrian style of braiding hair on Naerys, surrounded by adoring stares of children in their care. He smiled at them and rested against the door so as not to disturb them.

She brushed her dress off after she was done and her gaze met his when she finally rose to her feet. She gave him a puzzled smile. “Husband, why did you not join us?”

“I rather liked the view from here.”

She came over to kiss his cheek and lay a hand on his temple. “What is wrong?”

He turned his head to kiss the palm of her hand. “Nothing is wrong.” He sighed and rested his forehead against hers. “I just realized that I might need to travel to meet some cousins soon.”

He could feel her brows scrunch up. “Cousins?” Then she pushed him away as her eyes widened in horrified realization. “Volantis? You mean to travel to Volantis?”

“There is no better place to find scholars of Old Valyria and I would have our children learn from the best.”

His wife glared at him. “We are the best! We are the last of the dragonlords!”

Daemon shook his head. He had thought so too. He framed her face in his hands and gave her lips a soft kiss. “Valyria was more than just dragons and dragonlords and they need to know it too.”

Chapter Text

On second thought, starting with Volantis may have not been the best idea. His wife was wroth with him before he even gave himself a chance to share any other news. She left the nursery behind in a huff and Daemon was left to follow.

She stormed into their chambers and as he closed the door behind them, she let out a scream of frustration. She turned to him with her fists clenched. “You can’t just leave now! After everything you… you just can’t!”

Tears were shining in her eyes and she made a sharp turn away from him and walked to a window instead. Daemon cursed himself and joined her with hurried steps. He took her clenched fists into his hands and spoke to her with a soothing voice. “I would not be going now. I am not leaving today or on the morrow. It would be a moon or maybe more. But we need to think of our children’s education.”

She looked at him as if his wits left him and spoke very slowly. “Your daughters are not yet four. Your son is little over a moon. I assure you, there is some time before the need for tutors becomes so pressing.”

He shook his head. “When I see how I failed with Rhaenyra… We can’t put it off. What if we never get a chance to…” He shook his head again.

An annoyance flashed in the face of his wife which was quickly turning from angry to suspicious. “How you failed Rhaenyra? So this is about her?” Her voice carried a challenge.

Daemon cursed himself again, folded his arms, and turned his eyes to the ceiling. “This has to do with the fact that I am not quite as good a teacher on Old Valyria as I believed myself to be.” He could feel the weight of her eyes on him.

She scoffed. “And you discovered this in a Small Council meeting?”

He grimaced. “Not exactly.”

“I see.”

She took a deep breath but whatever she was going to say next was lost as the door to their chambers opened and her parents walked in.

Possibly for the first time ever, Daemon was grateful for their interruption.

“Daemon means to go to Volantis.” Or not.

Rhaenys turned to him with a glare. “Daemon, what is this foolishness?”

He rolled his eyes. “I only wish for the best education for my children.”

His cousin was aghast. “Now?”

Annoyance with the conversation was growing quickly in him. “Not now now. In a moon or so.”

The censure in his cousin’s voice was clear enough to hear. “Daemon, the king has just named you as his Master of Laws. You can’t go gallivanting off to Volantis.”

His jaw clenched as he bit down on his answer.

Rhaenys sighed and shook her head at him. “I will go if the need is so great.”

Daemon blinked. That was not a half-bad solution. Why did he not think of that? He could feel the tips of his ears redden with embarrassment and let out a cough. “Thank you, cousin.” She rolled her eyes at him.

Corlys was frowning. “What was it that Rhaenyra spoke to you after the council that has you so worried for your children’s education?”

This time it was his good-father that Daemon cursed in his head as his wife turned to him outraged again.

“She insisted on the betrothals. And that Lucerys remains the heir.”

Laena folded her arms and cocked her head, frowning. “What betrothals?”

Her mother answered her gently as she laid her hands on Laena’s folded arms. “We petitioned the king to recognize you as your father’s heir to Driftmark. Rhaenyra offered betrothals between her sons and your daughters instead. The Hand offered betrothals to his grandsons in support.”

Laena’s eyes widened and her brows kept climbing higher at what she was hearing but then she frowned in confusion. “How would my daughters’ betrothals solve anything?”.

It was her father that answered. “As part of the petition, we requested that your oldest child, Baela, inherit after you.”

Laena appeared stunned for but a moment. Then her eyes filled with suspicion as she gazed at her parents. “I see.” There was a distinct frown marring her features.

Daemon could relate. There was something off about this. He knew Corlys well enough by now to know that he would not place a daughter above a son and he would not place a granddaughter above a grandson either.

She shook her head and her suspicion with it and let out a sad sigh. “So I take it Baela and Rhaena are betrothed now?”

Rhaenys rolled her eyes and scoffed. “No. Daemon insisted that they will marry whomever they choose. Apparently, you two are traumatized by your own arrangements and wish no such thing on your children.”

Laena looked at him with shining eyes and a soft smile he could not help but return bashfully even as he felt his cheeks heat under her gaze.

“Unless Rhaenyra managed to convince him otherwise when he walked off with her.” Rhaenys finished and the look was gone.

“What?”

Corlys looked to be choking on a laugh. “You should have seen them. He walked so fast she almost ran to keep up with him.”

Daemon glared at them both. “I meant what I said. There are not going to be any betrothals for my children.”

He received a pitying look from his cousin. “Daemon, be reasonable. While the princes may not be the best choices, there are still other alliances to be made.”

He stepped closer to her and his voice was deadly when he spoke. “Listen to me and listen to me well, cousin. My children will not be pawns to be moved on a board and traded at will. They will grow and they will learn all that they need to be well. To be happy. To be free. And they will be free to make their own fate as they wish. I will love them and I will guide them but I will not bind them.”

He could feel Laena’s warm hand take hold of his and give it a squeeze. As he turned his head to gaze down at her, she gave him a smile full of love. “On that, we agree.”

Rhaenys let out a sound of disgust. “You two are hopeless.”

“Hopeless, cousin? Is it not for the parent to ensure their child lives a happy life? Would you not prefer your own children be happy rather than miserable?”

She frowned at him. “And what about legacy?”

“It is for each man to build one on their own. It is not for them to build it on the bones of their children’s future.” His voice was full of bitterness and Laena’s warm hand was squeezing his fingers harder now, her other arm snaked around his and holding it to her breast.

Daemon breathed out a long breath, leaned back, and looked at his wife. There was little need to antagonize his cousin over things that were long in the past. There was entirely no need for resentment towards his good-parents for mistakes Daemon himself had repeated in his previous life.

Daemon and Laena had each other now. They had their children, untouched by the cruelties of the world. And the Rogue Prince would do his damned best to ensure that untouched they remained.

Chapter Text

It would be an evening spent on yet another feast that Daemon was not looking forward to. This one to welcome the Princess of Dragonstone back to court and he wondered at that. Was Rhaenyra gone that long to warrant it? Or was his brother merely using any excuse for a feast? If so, old Beesbury must be quite vexed with him.

Nevertheless, he was quite determined not to let himself be caught alone by his niece again. He almost snorted to himself. If she even had any interest in it after he had left her so just that afternoon.

Laena looked just as stunning as the previous evening but Daemon was twice as worried for her. “Are you sure you are well enough for this? No one would find it strange if you were to remain in our rooms tonight.”

She glared at him in the mirror. “I am well enough. I find it unlikely to receive another shock like the one yestereve.” Daemon would certainly hope so. “I would like to dance the evening away.”

Daemon grimaced. “Shall I hope for it to last more than one dance this night?”

He received another glare. “I am well.”

“You were well yestereve as well before you nearly caused my heart to stop. I do not believe myself quite recovered yet.” Daemon was not happy to attend the feast at all. There were dozens of things he could be doing instead.

Laena sighed and patted his cheek. “Stop pouting, husband. Your face is not best suited for it.”

As they approached the King’s table once again and Daemon’s eyes ran over it, he realized that there were five places from each side of the king. Five places for the Greens, starting with the queen, her father, and her children. Five places on the other side for the Blacks, starting with Rhaenyra, ending with Corlys, the two open seats between Rhaenyra and Rhaenys clearly intended for Daemon and Laena.

Daemon would be tempted to pull out the chair next to Rhaenyra for his wife were Dragonstone not still fresh in his memory. Being seated between his niece and his wife would do little to improve his mood. Perhaps he truly should dance the evening away with Laena. Then again, mayhaps they would restrain themselves with the king so close.

There was thankfully little talking as the first courses were served and Daemon could well understand why he thought the food the source of Laena’s sudden sickness the evening before. The food served was not the same as the previous feast and yet it matched in its heaviness. If this was how they always ate at the Red Keep, he could no longer wonder at the king’s bulk, though that made one wonder about the queen’s lack of one. It stood in stark contrast to the food in Pentos or Driftmark and even more so to the food he grew accustomed to during the war.

As his nose wrinkled in disgust at yet another dish steeped in fat and gravy, Laena’s hand found his thigh and squeezed. His expression smoothed out as she leaned in and whispered into his ear. “Behave.”

He bit down on a grin and turned his head to whisper back. “I’ll let you know my name is not Baela.”

She let out an unladylike snort and quickly brought up a hand to cover her sudden fit of giggles. He already missed it so he caught it and brought it to his lips.

“I say, uncle, you do not seem to be very hungry,” sounded from his other side.

Laena was reduced to another fit of giggles as he muttered under his breath. “Certainly not for food.” Gods, he hoped Rhaenyra did not hear that.

His niece persisted despite annoyance at Laena’s behavior writ clear across her face and tone. “Is the food not to your liking?”

He gave a heavy sigh. “It is certainly… heartier than what we are used to.” He gave the thing on his plate an unenthusiastic poke.

She gave a light laugh. “Do not worry, uncle, you will get used to it again quick enough.”

Daemon would most certainly not be getting used to this poison. “I would rather not.” He did not remember his grandfather’s court serving these kinds of meals so often and the man had lived to be near seventy. Viserys had died at fifty-two, body rotted through long before that.  

He chuckled darkly, amused. Did Viserys preserve Daemon’s health by constantly sending him away? What a good brother, after all.

Laena was looking at him with a quirked brow, her giggles forgotten and yet Rhaenyra let out another airy laugh and shook her head. “Sometimes you remind me of Joff so.” Daemon’s fork froze in its poking and he could see Laena biting on her lip to stifle a gasp. Viserys burst out laughing.

Laena’s hand was on his thigh again, squeezing hard. He clenched his jaw for a moment and then released a deliberate breath. The smile that appeared on his face was entirely false. “Fascinating.”

His hand joined Laena’s under the table and brought it up into the view to kiss her knuckles again. “My love, I hope dancing will start soon. We must enjoy ourselves as much as we can. We will need to retire rather early, I fear.”

“Oh, why would you need to do that, uncle?”

“We have an early start tomorrow.”

“After a feast? Uncle, you truly need to learn to enjoy yourself.” Her voice still held that airy quality.

“Oh, trust me. I plan to.” He was looking directly into Laena’s eyes as he spoke and she rolled them at him.

“What is it that you plan to do tomorrow?” Why was Rhaenyra still talking to him?

“Training.”

Rhaenyra laughed again and laid a hand on his arm. “You hardly need your wife for that.”

“I mean for Laena to instruct our daughters in archery. I certainly need her for that.” His wife was frowning at him. While he truly planned that, he had not originally meant for the lessons to start the next morning.

The hand patted his arm placatingly. “I am sure you can teach them just as well, uncle. You are a great warrior.”

He answered carefully. “While that is true, I can hardly teach them about how to work around the limitations of women when it comes to wielding a bow.” Laena’s stare was decidedly unimpressed as his gaze dropped to her breasts while he spoke.

There was a frown on his niece’s face. “I never knew you to give weight to the limitations of women as compared to men, uncle.”

He smirked, amused again. “I assure you, these limitations I give a great weight to.” Laena burst out into uncontrollable laughter, her hand pressed to her chest.

Rhaenyra’s voice was frosty when she turned to her. “Are you quite well, good-sister?”

Said good-sister was still gasping for breath and crying tears of mirth. When she calmed sufficiently, she gave Rhaenyra a beaming smile. “I am well indeed, good-sister. Thank you.”

His niece pouted, her voice full of censure. “I do not see what amuses you so, good-sister.”

“Breasts.” The pout changed into a frown at Laena’s giggled word. “Daemon was oh so cleverly talking about my breasts, good-sister.”

She was reduced to helpless giggles again at Rhaenyra’s horrified face.

Chapter Text

He woke to bangs and soft curses and an empty bed. He lifted his head to look around himself and frowned in confusion. The bedchamber was strewn with clothes, the door leading to the main room left open to show it in a similar state.

He sat up in the bed to listen to the stream of curses flowing from his wife’s mouth. As the curses grew increasingly creative and the voice frustrated, he scrambled off the bed. “Laena? What is going on?”

He found her sitting on the ground, surrounded by piles of clothes, the chests from whence they came gaping open, mostly empty. She gave him an unhappy look, near tears. “I have nothing to wear!”

Daemon moved his eyes over the room in a rather obvious way and raised his brows in disbelief. She hugged the dress she held to her chest and pouted at him. “Nothing to wear for training. I do not have any dress suited to it and I cannot find my chest guard or bracers.”

He fought off a chuckle as he joined her on the ground among the piles to take her hands in his. “I am sorry to have sprung this on you. How about you wear your riding leathers for today?”

She gave him an outraged glare at his placating tone and hissed at him. “They are not suited for archery.”

“We need not start with archery already.”

She gave him a wounded look. “But I want to train with you and the children.”

He planted a kiss on her temple and gave her a mischievous smile and a wink. “I did not say I would have no other use for you.”

The training yard was empty just as he had hoped.

The children stood arrayed in front of him in a line, Laena to the side and behind him. He paced in front of them as a commander inspecting his troops. Rhaena was staring at him with huge eyes, hugging herself. Baela glared at the ground, kicking at it. Addam, Alyn, and Naerys watched his every move with rapt attention and were somehow the only people not causing him any headache that morn.

Rhaena took a breath as he stopped his pacing and faced them and he forestalled her question with a firm “No.” Her lip trembled. Baela kicked at the ground with vengeance.

He steeled his spine and watched the children mirror his stance. “We will be training here every morning hence. Nothing will be brought here from your rooms and nothing will be taken from here either.” There will be absolutely no stupid toy dragons in his training yard and no training swords in their rooms, unsupervised.

“What you will learn here, you are not allowed to use outside of this training yard. Not unless there is a true danger to you. And I do mean a danger of violence, not mean words or a shove.  You will not use it to fight each other or any other child, especially not any of the princes.”

He paused to give them a stern glare. “Let me be clear. If I ever learn of any of these rules being broken, there will be a punishment made to suit the culprit and the crime precisely.”

He paused to let them mull it over and found Baela frowning at him. “Like Moondancer no longer being allowed inside?”

He saw a flash of white out of the corner of his eye and he turned his head to follow it as he considered his answer carefully. “Yes.”

Ser Steffon and Ser Harrold gave him a friendly nod and he returned it.

Baela’s face cleared and hope shined there. “Can Moondancer come back inside if I promise not to make him set my bed on fire again?”

The answer was swift. “No.”

The hope was gone from her face and she let out a whine. “But why?”

The two Kingsguard knights were being suspiciously quiet.

He blinked down at her. “There are two reasons. The first and the most important is that I am no fool and that was a very specific promise. The second is that dragons have no place in houses once they start breathing fire.”

“Now, let us return to the topic at hand. I need you all to promise me that you will abide by the rules I set out.”

There was a chorus of “I promise, kepa” and one mouth that remained stubbornly closed. He dropped to his haunches in front of Baela. “You must forgive your poor old father but it seems my hearing is failing me. Can you repeat that for me?”

Baela’s glare was mutinous and her mouth still closed. He affected sadness and shook his head. “I fear I cannot allow you to stay here with us if I do not hear your promise. You will have to spend our time in training alone in your rooms every day.” Baela’s eyes widened and fear entered them but the stubborn set of her jaw remained and so Daemon delivered the final blow. “Like the babe.”

She gasped. “No! Kepa, I promise! I promise!”

He rose to his full height again. “Laenor taught you all how to hold and swing a sword but it will be a few years yet before you will be able to wield it with any sort of effectiveness. In the meantime, it would serve you well to know how to keep yourself safe.”

“Now, what do you think you could do if someone like me attacked you?”

The children were all looking at him doubtfully, Naerys hugging herself. It was Addam who spoke up. “Die?”

He rolled his eyes. “What would you do not to die if someone like me attacked you?”

Naerys was the one to chance an answer. “Run away?” Alyn snickered at her and even Addam’s mouth quirked but Daemon smiled at her, pleased. “Yes, run away.”

Alyn’s smirk died and a frown replaced it. There were frowns on all their faces. “But…that does not help us win.”

He shrugged at Alyn. “Isn’t you not dying or being beaten up by a bigger and stronger opponent already a victory?”

“But we’re not cowards!” Alyn’s voice carried anger.

“No one would accuse you of that. Do you remember how we met Naerys?” Alyn hesitated before nodding and his frown deepened. “She was brave, wasn’t she? She fought with all her strength, didn’t she? And did all that help her?”

“But you’re good. You weren’t gonna hurt her.”

Daemon almost laughed out loud at the statement and shrugged. “I could. Were it anyone else, she would be in a world of trouble. What I said then was all true.”

Alyn was chewing on his lip in thought. “But what is there to teach us about running away?”

“Well, most often you need to create the conditions to allow for your escape.” He grinned at the confusion writ in their little faces. “My dear wife volunteered herself to help me demonstrate some for you and we will start with the simplest and most important for someone your size.” His gaze met Naerys and his grin widened. “Getting out of a hold someone has on your arm.”

Chapter Text

Laena looked at him in curiosity as he prepared himself to go out that evening after supper. She could no longer contain it as he fastened the belt with Dark Sister. “Should I ask where you are going at this hour?”

Her question provoked a chortle. “It depends, wife. Do you wish to know?”

She frowned at him. “I am unsure.”

He shrugged and threw on his cloak. Her voice stopped him as he reached for the door. “I do wish to know.”

He grinned at the door and pulled it open as he replied. “The Street of Silk. I have some business to attend to there. Do not wait for me.” He pulled the door closed quickly behind him, Laena’s outraged shriek of “Daemon!” muffled by it, and strode out of the rooms.

His grin faded as he walked through the corridors and towards the gate that would lead him out of the Red Keep and into the city.

He left the matter to rest for too long already. He had no idea what had turned Mysaria against him but he did not intend to give her a chance to do harm to his cause again.

He had two trusted gold cloaks with him as he entered the lair of Lady Misery. She was not in the public rooms but she appeared in the shadows soon enough as he was recognized. She gave him a coy smile from across the room and beckoned him to follow and follow he did.

As she led him inside her solar, he bade the men stay outside and entered after her, closing the door behind him.

Mysaria approached him with dancer’s grace to lay hands on his chest and spoke in a sultry voice that had once snared him so. “I was expecting you, my prince. I knew it would not be long before you came to me once back in the city.” She pouted at him. “Though I must admit that you stayed away longer than I believed possible.”

He raised his hands to lay on top of hers and spoke softly. “We need to talk.”

Her brows rose in mirth. “Talk, my prince?”

“Yes. Your work for the Hand stops now.” Her eyes widened in terror and she tried to pull her hands free and Daemon was confused.

Why would Mysaria fear his knowledge of her engagement with Otto Hightower?

It had been years since she would have had anything of use to give the Hand regarding Daemon himself. In fact, there was nothing truly incriminating she could have given him even then. There had been nothing shared between them since their disastrous departure from Dragonstone.

Daemon still tasted bile whenever thinking of the loss his brother caused them. For all that Viserys named Daemon a plague upon him, somehow it had always been Daemon suffering the losses and the pain caused by a brother. Viserys had suffered many losses himself, yet none had been caused to him by his brother.

He shook off the reminiscent thoughts and continued speaking softly to her. “I need you to leave Westeros and never to return. For all that we have shared, for all our shared losses, I will give you more than enough gold to live like a queen for the rest of your life anywhere in the world. But you must never return to the Seven Kingdoms. You must never turn your attention here or involve yourself in the matters involving the Iron Throne.”

Her face morphed into one of disbelief and she laughed until she gasped for breath. When her laughter subsided and she opened her mouth to talk, it was to spit venom. “For our shared losses? Our? You dare?” She did her best to beat her trapped hands against his chest. He had never seen her in such a fury.

“It was my loss! Mine! My womb that carried the child your brother murdered!”

Daemon’s breath left him and he was left to stare at her in shock. They had been separated when it happened and when they had reunited years later it had become a gaping chasm of silence between them. They had never spoken of it. Never even alluding to the babe. He had never realized there was this much pain in her still.

His silence seemed to enrage her even more for she started to kick at him with her slippered feet.

He released her hands. “Mysaria, I did not know…”

Her hands finally free, she shoved him with all the force in her body. “Did not know? Or did not care? Did not care for me or my babe at all.”

Anger rose in him as well at the words. “Of course, I cared! That babe was mine too!”

She laughed a hollow laugh. “Oh, truly? One would think you happy.”

He recoiled from her as if she slapped him. “What? How could you say that?”

Her face was twisted in a hateful grimace. “Because you forgave him! You forgave him and you forgot! And you came crawling back to him!”

He stared at her at a loss. “He is my brother.”

“He is your brother and he killed your child. And you would not even seek to pay him back.” Something sinister shone in her eyes then. “So I did.”

He could not help but laugh in dark amusement at that. “And how have you, Mysaria of Lys, paid my brother, the king, back? You work for his Hand!”

She rose to her full height and glared at him but then her gaze softened and a pity appeared in it. She glided back to him with a slight smile on her face and caressed his cheek gently. Daemon was unnerved. “Have you ever wondered why your brother threatened to execute you? And how your little niece came to be so quickly betrothed?”

He rolled his eyes. “The rumors. The Hand’s doing, no doubt.”

Her smile widened and she gave a thoughtful nod. “The Hand’s doing, no doubt. But my rumors.”

Daemon could not believe what his ears heard. “What? How did that hurt my brother? It was Rhaenyra and I that paid the price for your lies!”

She raised her shoulders in a careless gesture and walked away from him. “I had no intention to get you killed, my prince, I assure you. Though you would have deserved it for your lack of action.” She shook her head harshly. “No, I had no wish for you to die. I lost a child, not a brother so it would be a child the king lost too. A child for a child. A son for a son.”

He snorted. She must be insane. “Rhaenyra is no son.”

Her smile was blinding. “No. But with no heirs of her own, her reign will never be secure with her half-brothers still living. I need not kill them. They will do it themselves.”

Daemon’s insides froze and he closed his eyes. “Rhaenyra has three sons.”

Her laughter was uproarious. “She might have three sons but anyone with eyes knows they are no heirs of hers.”

When he opened his eyes again, his voice was deadly. “You have until morning to leave this city and these shores. If I ever learn of you so much as looking in the direction of the Seven Kingdoms, I will kill you myself, do you understand me?”

Mysaria’s glare and a raised chin was all the answer she gave him.

He nodded to himself, still stunned. He needed to leave before he did something he would regret. “Until morning then.”

He turned and made a step toward the door when she let out a shrill scream and threw herself at him once more. There was a sharp pain as she hit his back and he was forced forward onto one knee under the weight of her.

Acting on instinct, he turned his body from under her and forced himself to his feet, drawing and slashing Dark Sister in one move.

When he blinked again, the light was leaving Mysaria’s eyes, blood rapidly spreading around her.

He fell to his knees again and Dark Sister clattered to the ground.

There was a bloody dagger in her hand.

And Daemon’s shoulder fucking hurt.

Chapter Text

It was later than usual that Viserys left the great hall for his rooms, two white shadows attaching themselves to his back. While his brother and his wife opted for a private supper, all of his children, including his eldest daughter joined him at the high table, bringing his grandsons as well. It always brought him great joy when he looked at all his children and grandchildren together. Despite growing up in the same keep, the occasions seemed few and far between, both the children and their mothers resistant to Viserys’ best attempts to bring them closer.

He did not understand how his brother did it. He had his daughters, the bastards of his good-brother and the little brown girl about him and all them looked upon him as if he hung the moon. They listened to him and obeyed him. And despite all the vileness he knew his brother possessed they believed him to be good. His own children considered Viserys pitiful at best. The respect they gave him more for the rank he held than for who he was to them. Among the two of them, it had always been Daemon who was respected by all, even his enemies. Viserys was the King, he wore the crown, yet it was his brother who captured the attention and the imagination of the masses.

Viserys could not stop thinking of it since he passed the yard on his morning walk. What was it about Daemon that gained him all he could wish for so easily and left Viserys himself hollow and ailing despite wearing the crown? Daemon took a woman that he had rejected and somehow got all that Viserys wished for. A happy family. The Gods truly favored his brother.

Even Viserys, the fool that he was, loved his brother despite all his flaws and could not bring himself to remain without his presence for too long, allowing him back to court despite Daemon never asking forgiveness for his previous offenses.

The supper with his family was the only time that day that he was not consumed by the thoughts of his brother and the unfairness of it all. It had been such a relief. Now, walking back to his apartments and alone again, the thoughts returned to him in full force.

He was well into Maegor’s when he realized that the holdfast was considerably more busy than usual and found himself annoyed. His brother’s doing without a shadow of a doubt. He set his jaw in annoyance. Well, Viserys would put a stop to it.

He set off towards his brother’s chambers and was not at all surprised that he was passing gold cloaks. The nerve! To bring so many of his men into Maegor’s! There was concern on many of their faces as they parted for him and concerned they should be. There were limits to what his power-hungry brother could be allowed within the Red Keep and this went far beyond them.

There were yet more gold cloaks in the main chamber of his brother’s apartments and he grew even more irritated when he saw a flash of gold through the door into the bedchamber as well. His mouth set into a stern line, he stepped through into it.

Daemon was sat on the bed naked above the waist, his wife in front of him, his head buried in her chest. There were three gold cloaks in the room as well. Truly, his brother knew no shame.

“What in the Gods’ name is going on here?” His voice was mayhaps a tad too loud in his outrage for everyone in the room, except his brother, flinched.

Neither his brother nor his wife spared him any attention. I was a man in the grey robes of a maester yet without a chain of one that responded. “The prince was stabbed. There is little to worry about. The wound bled profusely but we managed to stop it in time and it is stitched closed now. There is not much damage otherwise.” The man shrugged as he continued. “The prince was very lucky that the blow struck the bone and skidded along it.”

The prince in question seemed to be unconscious as his wife caressed his hair tenderly. He was enraged that someone would dare hurt his brother in his own city so.

“I want the culprit found. Now.”

One of the gold cloaks in the room moved towards him. “Your Grace, the prince killed the person that stabbed him.”

“Then I want them beheaded and quartered, the parts displayed at each of the main city gates, the head above the gate of the Red Keep.”

His brother turned out not to be unconscious at all as he raised his head to glare and snarl at Viserys. “No.”

The gold cloak’s eyes darted to Daemon and he spoke again. “The body was already handed over to the care of the Silent Sisters, Your Grace.”

Viserys could feel his face twist in fury. “Why would you allow that?”

The gold cloak darted another look in the direction of his brother but his head had already dropped back to his wife’s chest. “The prince insisted, Your Grace.”

Confusion was all that Viserys felt as he turned to his brother. “Why would you allow that, brother?”

He did not raise his head but he did turn it to answer. His voice was even. “It was Mysaria.”

Viserys could not quite place the name at first, frowning. Then, he laughed as it occurred to him. “Your Lyseni whore? What have you done to anger her so?”

Daemon’s fingers started to stroke along his wife’s arm.

“Forgive you.”

Viserys laughed harder. “You forgive me? What would you have to forgive me for?”

Daemon’s fingers stopped their stroking. “The death of our child.”

He could not stop himself from rolling his eyes again. “This again. The babe was but a bastard fathered on a whore. A shame on our house.”

Daemon finally raised his head again to stare at Viserys and continued in the same even voice. “The babe was a babe. A child of my body. My son. Your own blood. And he died due to your order.”

“Better then than later. Who knows what wickedness would that ill-begotten of yours son get up to.”

His brother rose from the bed, his wife hastily rising with him to support him. “My ill-begotten son? What about yours? Aegon might be just thirteen but were he anyone else but the son of the king, he would be gelded already. That ill-begotten son of yours is more of a fucking rapist already than any the Watch ever dealt with.”

Daemon’s voice was even still but Viserys’ had risen as his temper got away from him. “My son is no rapist!”

Daemon’s laugh was hollow. “Oh truly? Did you not notice the pace at which your wife’s maids keep changing? And your daughter’s? How servants avoid places he is known to frequent? I have been in this keep but a few days and I noticed all that already.”

His voice turned mocking and cold as he finished. “You see, Your Grace, it is not how the babes are made or born. It is how you raise them that matters. And yours were raised poorly. Yours were raised to bring ruin to the Seven Kingdoms.”

Viserys was mute with fury.

When speech returned to him, he addressed his brother in a voice that carried his full regal authority. “I will forgive these words of yours tonight for you are injured and beyond reason but if I ever hear you speak these falsehoods again, I will have you executed.”

He turned sharply and left his brother’s rooms.

The assembled gold cloaks had the sense to avert their eyes and bow their heads as he passed them once again. Now they all saw the venom Viserys had to deal with in his brother. They would do well to remember that it was only by his grace that his brother breathed still.

Chapter Text

Daemon would barely speak to her. She tried to be a support to him, yet he seemed to want none. He had been silent when the gold cloaks brought him to her, clothes and bandages soaked with blood. She had thought him gone from the milk of the poppy but he had refused it and the dreamwine both when offered.

Silent he had remained as the bandages were removed and stitches inspected. Silent he had remained as his brother had appeared. And then he had been silent no more and Laena had been horrified. She had kept herself turned away and focused on her husband so she would not fling herself at the king herself to scratch out his eyes.

She had known there had been a babe. She had known the mother had certainly not been his first wife. She had known that Baelon must have been its name. She had known that it had not lived. She had not known the king’s role in any of it.

When she had been a girl of twelve, offered by her father to the king for a wife, she had not protested for she had known it useless. Nothing would have changed her father’s mind. But she had prayed to the Fourteen. Let him die. Let him die so Laena could be free.

When the news had come that he would marry another, she had been relieved and she had ceased her praying, horrified that she had wished such on a man. Now she found herself wishing she had prayed harder.

A shocked silence reigned as the king left.

Daemon’s strength seemed to leave him and he sagged against her completely, both collapsing back onto the bed under his weight. As she turned her wide horrified eyes to him, he let out a chuckle. “Worry not, wife. Hardly the first time Viserys threatened me with execution for speaking the truth.” And then he was silent again.

The healer approached them with a great deal of hesitation. “My prince, the shoulder needs to be wrapped again.” Her husband nodded and left him to it, his gaze distant.

Laena watched him carefully as the healer worked.

“You must protect your brother. You must stand by him. You must never let others turn you against each other. For only when the House of the Dragon stands united can it stand strong against all threats.”

At her drawn brows, he elaborated. “Those were the last words my father ever spoke to me. He should have spared them for his other son.” He still spoke in that disturbingly even tone.

They waited for the healer to finish wrapping Daemon in fresh bandages, her husband seemingly numb to everything. She had never seen him so quiet, so still, so removed from the world around him as this night.

It was the healer that broke the silence again. “My prince, you must not move the arm so as not to tear the stitches.” He was hesitant to continue. “You must keep it in a sling. And if you wish for it to heal properly you will not put any strain on it at all for at least a fortnight.” When no argument came, he seemed to gather his courage. “That includes dragon riding.”

Daemon did not even spare him a glance.

Laena gave the healer a grateful smile. “Thank you, good master. We will be sure to follow your advice.” She would be the one to ensure it.

She made sure that Daemon was comfortably situated on the bed before she rose to lead the healer out of the bedchamber and he left the chambers at a brisk pace, clearly uncomfortable now that his work was done. She was sure his recommendations would be stricter had he dared.

She blinked rapidly as she turned to Ser Luthor, who followed her to the main room with the other two gold cloaks, reaching out a hand to lay on his wrist. “Thank you, Ser Luthor, for the service you provided my husband and me this night.”

He shook his head. “There is no need to thank me, my lady. I did no more than my duty.”

She turned to the other two as well. “I thank you most of all. Were you not there…” She shook her head. “It bears no thinking about. Thank you.”

They were both shaking their heads as she reached out to squeeze their wrists as well. “We failed our duty, my lady. We failed the prince.”

She disagreed sharply. “I assure you the prince does not think so. He did not expect a danger within and so you were without. Your assistance immediately after likely saved his life. So thank you.”

She turned to address the other gathered gold cloaks. “And I thank you all as well for the care and protection you show for my husband. We both greatly appreciate it and you.”

She straightened to her full height, her voice considerably colder as she finished. “And we are both grateful to our merciful king for his kind considerations. Long may he reign and may the Gods keep him justly.” Remembering the talk of the living rotting corpse the king became before his death, she thought the Gods were just indeed.

Only silence answered her.

She did not expect anything else.

Ser Luthor gave her a last nod and left, taking all the other gold cloaks with him.

Only after the chambers and the corridor in front of them were empty did she allow herself a show of emotion as she let out a tremulous breath and returned to the bedchamber.

Daemon laid on his stomach, sleeping and so she knelt next to the bed and stroked his hair gently. Then she rose, kissed his temple, and left the bedchamber again.

The guards posted outside her parents’ chambers startled as they saw her approach. “My lady, did something happen? You’re crying.”

She took a breath to collect herself again. “My husband was stabbed tonight but there is little danger now.” The guards gaped at her words.

Once inside, she headed directly for the bedchamber and knocked softly before opening the door. She poked her head through it. When she saw her parents rousing, she walked directly for the bed.

Her mother was startled as she recognized her. “Laena? What is the matter?”

And Laena did what she had not done since she had been a little girl.

She climbed into her parents’ bed and threw herself into her mother’s arms. “Muña.” Her voice was broken as she gasped through her tears into her shoulder. “I hate him. I hate him I hate him.”

Laena remained there, in her mother’s embrace, her father laying an arm across her shoulders as she cried.

Her mother’s sigh was heavy. “What did Daemon do?”

Laena cried harder. “He got stabbed.”

Her mother sat up in alarm, jostling her. “What?”

“He will be fine.” She leaned very close to her mother’s ear to breath into it. “It’s the king that I hate.”

Her mother looked to her father as she pressed her lips firmly together. Then she brought Laena’s head to her breast and whispered into her hair. “Tell us everything.”

And so Laena did.

Chapter Text

It had been many years, decades in truth, since she had been last woken in the night by a weepy child. To be woken so by Laena who was rarely given over to tears left her disturbed even before she climbed into her bed.

When she spoke of her hate, she could have smiled in relief.

Laena had been delicate after her previous pregnancy, her humors disturbed for many moons after, her mood shifting towards tears at any upset. Rhaenys herself had been a witness of her daughter’s weeping and cursing her husband when he had expressed happiness at her having born him daughters. Her easy recovery after Aemon’s birth stood in contrast to that and yet now the tears were familiar.

She wondered which innocuous comment of Daemon’s earned him his wife’s ire on this occasion.

Her daughter’s answer was made all the more shocking for the relief she had felt just moments before.

She listened in horror as her daughter spoke her tale through the sobs and she wished she could cry as well. As her daughter’s voice faded, she was left to her own thoughts.

She knew her cousin’s weakness of character and pettiness well enough. She had seen enough of his jealousy of his younger brother. He had abandoned the training yard once his younger brother’s talent for the blade had become obvious.

He had held no ambition to become a dragonrider until his brother had become one and then had claimed the greatest of them all. The dragonkeepers had discouraged Rhaenys herself from that very dragon for his old age and lack of mobility, claiming him ill-suited for her spirit.

Viserys had denied Daemon’s pleas for an annulment for years and years even though it had been more than obvious that that marriage would never be fruitful as it forever remained unconsummated. Everyone who had known Daemon in his youth could not help but know that he wished for nothing as much as he wished for a Valyrian bride. A wife who would be his equal as his parents were to each other.

She opened her mouth before she could think better of it, her voice light as she caressed Laena’s hair. “When I was expecting you, even before my father’s death, everyone expected you to be a boy. Everyone prayed for you to be a boy.” She chuckled at the memory. “Daemon did not. He was most wroth with them. He wanted you to be a girl, otherwise, there would be no one for him to marry. He conveniently overlooked our aunt Gael for he found her boring.” She clapped her eyes to the ceiling and refused to let the tears fall.

She could tell Laena was looking at her and she continued playing with her hair. “When our grandmother arranged his match with Rhea Royce, he raged against it. I protested as well. I argued that there was no need for it, that you two could marry but it was all for nought.”

She was blinking rapidly then.

“Daemon was forbidden from entering the Dragonpit. Caraxes was chained. Dark Sister was taken from him. Guards never left his side, not even in sleep. And eventually, two Kingsguard knights dragged him to the sept where Rhea Royce was forced to cloak herself. But they could not force him to consummate the marriage and so he did not.”

“Daemon was the reason Viserys got his crown. And the first and only thing he asked for was the annulment. Do you know why Viserys never granted it even though Daemon remained his heir and childless for many years?”

She could feel Laena shaking her head. “Because there was only one thing that Viserys had, that Daemon desired above all else and yet could not have, and it was a Valyrian wife. And as long as Daemon was shackled to Rhea Royce he got to keep that from him.”

Laena’s voice brought her out of the silence she fell into. “Why are you telling me this?”

“So you would know. Viserys was always jealous of his brother, always eager to bring him down. For all his temper, I never understood why Daemon tolerated it as well as he did. Now I do.”

And know she did. Baelon was the person Daemon had idealized the most. After the death of his mother, he was without a doubt the person Daemon loved above all others. Had he asked what he did of Daemon on his deathbed… It certainly explained a lot of things.

Rhaenys had not first thought Daemon to support Viserys’ claim over hers. He had known, just as she did, Viserys unfit to rule. And yet he had raised an army in support of his brother. Daemon’s lack of trust in her had pained her more than any others.

“What does it matter now?”

“Things will change now. Daemon is a dangerous man when roused. And Viserys has been rousing him for a long time.”

Rhaenys and Corlys thought to seat their good-son on the Iron Throne once the conflict after Viserys’ death erupted. The Velaryons would become the voice of reason, attempting reconciliation between the two warring factions, failing and then restoring peace on their dragons. Now Rhaenys did not believe they would need to wait that long. Daemon’s cooperation in their original plan would have to be forced by circumstances. Not so now.

Daemon had only ever wished to protect his brother and his position. There were those who had been warning Viserys of usurpation by his brother ever since his ascension but he had known better and he had grown more comfortable in that knowledge since. His sight and sight of Daemon’s detractors was pointed to the future now, securing Viserys’ succession rather than his reign. And there were many unhappy with his reign.

Proving his deriders true used to be the last thing Daemon would ever do if for nought else than to spite them.

They would need to work on securing allies at a faster pace than expected. Daemon was unlikely to wait nigh on a decade more to pay his brother back when he had been stewing with this hurt for so long already.

Rhaenys’ mind sought to skitter away from even the thought. She had known Viserys petty and cruel to his brother and yet she would never expect that. She had not known that. Daemon kept his hurts to himself and Viserys’ council must have worked hard to suppress the knowledge spreading among the smallfolk and the nobility.

There would be outrage and there would be fear. There would be a boiling pot of emotions.

Among smallfolk for the actions and for the words themselves. Among the nobility… Viserys might have forgotten that it was Daemon who secured him his crown but few among the nobles did. To treat the one that guaranteed the stability of your reign so…

How could the nobles rely on a monarch that would treat his own family so?  

How could the nobles that were nothing to the king rely on his fairness and mercy when he had none for his own brother, his greatest supporter?

All they would need to do now was to stoke those concerns.

Daemon had the charm to spare yet chose to employ it only when motivated to do so. She had little doubt he would put it to good use now.

Chapter Text

It had been a sennight since the Rogue Prince had been stabbed and Otto could scream in frustration. Unbelievable. Not only did the bastard not die or at least suffer a wasting injury. No, Otto lost a valuable resource as a result and whatever was spoken between the two former lovers was enough to thin out the ranks of the spies Otto had spent years grooming.

Worse, the king happened upon the injured prince and managed to admit in front of uncountable witnesses the very thing his council had spent a great deal of effort and money to keep concealed.

Worse still, when the prince accused the king’s eldest son, Aegon, of being a rapist, the king merely screamed that he was not, threatened execution of the Rogue and that was it. Prince Daemon’s tongue was not removed, nor his seat on the Small Council and there was no punishment anyone could see. Even the preparations for the blasted tourney in honor of Prince Aemon were still proceeding.

The Rogue Prince and his brood had not been seen outside of their apartments since the incident. Unfortunately, the same was not true for the Sea Snake and his wife. Anywhere they went, once recognized, they were accosted by well-wishers and concerned passersby. They used every opportunity to express the prince’s and his family’s appreciation of the many wishes and prayers for his speedy recovery.

The smallfolk of the city, while always well-disposed towards their Prince of the City, were now brimming with concern and love to a disgusting degree. Somehow, even the criminal element of the city seemed subdued, likely sensing it a bad time to chance a confrontation with gold cloaks.

The nobles were worse still. Where the prince had used to be viewed with dark suspicion, he was regarded much more favorably now. As if his inaction in the face of losing his bastard erased all the ambition the prince had displayed over the years and only sympathy remained. It was the king and his eldest son that were now treated to hidden looks of wariness.

The Red Keep was buzzing with discontent. How was this even possible with the Red Keep filled mostly by the nobles from Reach, good and loyal to their cause, was a mystery to him. Did they already forget that the prince and his wife were heathens? Unwilling to walk in the light of the Seven and undeserving of it besides.

There was no talking the king into punishing the prince and there was no way to rectify the situation without the punishment so all Otto was left with was the frustration.

It could have truly not happened at a worse time. The nobles had slowly started to arrive for the tourney. However, with it still a fortnight away, they were left with little more to do than gossip. The tales had grown to truly ridiculous proportions and Otto would be grateful for the prince’s appearance if for nought else than to dispel the worst of them.

If only Viserys was not that much of a fool when it came to his brother. If only his blasted daughter could keep her whoring son in line.

He closed his eyes. To think that the future of his line rested on shoulders of that wretched boy. To think that the fool boy might bring about the fall of all their careful planning. Plans decades in the making brought down by his own grandson.

No. They were doing the Gods’ work, ridding the realm of foreign and unnatural evil. No one, not his grandson, not the king, not the king’s brother, and certainly not a weak whore like Rhaenyra would be able to stop them.

A smirk twisted his lips.

He had named the Rogue Prince a second coming of Maegor more than once but he was not and never had been that man and it was for good. For only Maegor would be able to stop them now.

There was only one way how to deal with all the unsavory rumors surrounding Aegon. Marriage. The Hand of the King had been working hard on securing alliances. Before the sorry affair, there were uncountable requests for a marriage alliance with the eldest son of the King. Yet now, the offers dried up and responses to his subtle inquiries were few and far between, none of them positive.

Otto did not truly expect otherwise. He did not truly wish for such an alliance as Aegon, already considered half-Hightower, needed a Valyrian bride. The lack of answers, however, did inform Otto well of the current mood among the highborn.

Unfortunately, the whore had been married off a long time ago, and sweet Helaena was the only possible Valyrian bride near the right age. He would much prefer to persuade the king to order a match with one of the Rogue’s daughters. Alas, with them so young that would not serve them in the now.

He judged a private supper with the king and the queen the best time to bring the topic of his grandson’s marriage up. There was little chance of him proposing any marriages for his grandchildren in front of Lord Fleabottom again.

“Your Grace, I have been thinking much of the bright future ahead of House Targaryen. With the tourney so close, would it not be an ideal time to announce the betrothal of your eldest son? It would not be just a celebration of Prince Aemon’s birth but also of the coming generation.”

The king was frowning. “My brother already rejected Aegon for his daughter. What other bride would you have in mind?”

His daughter’s wide eyes were darting between them. “But is Aegon not too young?”

Viserys snorted at that. “Too young? You wished to betroth him to Rhaenyra when he was two!”

Otto offered a conciliatory smile. “Many marry at his age. He is certainly not too young for a betrothal.”

Alicent bit her lip, frowning. “Who would he be betrothed to then?”

The king snorted again. “Is it not obvious? With my cursed brother’s rejection, there is only Helaena.”

Otto smiled at him. “Indeed, my king. It is for the best, truly. Helaena’s sweet disposition will do well to temper Aegon’s spirited nature.”

The queen’s voice trembled as she spoke. “She has not even bled yet.”

Otto waved the concern away. “Worry not, she will not be expected to marry before she flowers. But it would do well if you started to teach her of her future duties. I will handle Aegon.”

His daughter stared at him with dawning horror.

Chapter Text

The first Small Council after his brother’s unfortunate injury promised to be uncomfortable but Viserys was still glad for it. He had not seen his brother since the night he had been injured and he felt unsure of himself. If there were witnesses but not too many of them, his brother may decide to keep himself in check and Viserys would not need to order his banishment or worse, execution.

It was a sweet to pain to have him near. Despite Viserys loving him unconditionally, his brother always found new ways to hurt him. Still, he would not begrudge him his seat on the Council when he had spoken so under the strain of emotions. Though were he to speak out against his son again he would have no choice but to act.

He was pacing the council chambers as the councilors filled in, his brother and the Sea Snake the last to come again. He frowned as he regarded them. His brother’s face was drawn and paler than on the night of his injury. His complexion greyer than it had been then, dark circles smudged under his eyes. Viserys felt tired just looking at him. Daemon did not look at him at all when greeting him, taking his seat with a wince.

Viserys took a calming breath and went to take a seat himself when he froze. Not the last to arrive then. “Where in the Gods’ name is Lord Strong?”

The council members traded bemused looks. His Hand frowned and opened his mouth to answer, yet his brother scoffed, rolling his eyes, and beat him to it. “Your Grace must have confused his council for the Clubfoot’s wetnurses.”

The glare he and the Hand bestowed upon him was well deserved. “No one asked for your opinion, brother. We know well enough that you have not bestirred yourself from your chambers for a fortnight.” He hesitated and considered his words carefully. “It is good that you found yourself able to attend this meeting.”

His brother gave him a searching look and a cautious nod in answer.

He smiled at the men seated around the table. “Nevertheless, I would like to share the joyous news with you all. Let us find our missing Lord Strong then, if you would, Ser Harrold.”

Ser Harrold rose from the table and gave him a bow as he left the room to give out instructions. He was not gone long when his brother’s restlessness became quite pronounced and his fingers started to beat on the table in annoyance.

Viserys lowered his brows and glared at his brother again, his jaw tensing to restrain a sharp rebuke. The council had been forced to wait on him often enough. The least he could do was show a little patience.

He shook his head and took a calming breath. His brother was in pain still. It was only natural that he would wish the council to proceed and therefore end as quickly as possible so he could return to his chambers and rest.

When Ser Harrold returned, it was with a hasty bow. “Your Grace, the presence of the Grand Maester is required.”

Viserys’ irritation finally got the better of him. “Well, where is Lord Strong?”

There was a great deal of reluctance to Ser Harrold’s answer as his eyes swept across the room. “Lord Strong was found in his chambers, dead.”

There were gasps of shock around the table yet his brother’s shoulders were shaking in silent mirth. “Daemon!”

The corners of his mouth were still upturned when he looked at Viserys with eyes full of amusement. “Your Grace must forgive me but it looks like there is no post more dangerous than that of a Lord of Harrenhal. The Curse of Black Harren strikes again.”

It was his turn to roll his eyes. “I assure you, bother, there is no such thing.”

Daemon’s mirth left him, his eyes suddenly intent on his face. “You assure me, Your Grace?”

Viserys froze under his gaze. His brother was looking at him as if he knew.

Mellos’ voice sounded from far away. “Your Grace, if you would allow me to examine the body?”

He could but offer a short nod, his gaze still locked with his brother’s as dread spread through him. Somehow, his brother knew.

They waited for the Grand Maester’s return in silence, each man seemingly lost in their thoughts, most of them frowning. Only his brother’s mien affected boredom, eyes fixed to the ceiling, though as Viserys watched him warily he had little doubt that his mind was churning.

The king was grateful for the distraction as Ser Harrold returned with Mellos and they took their seats again. “Well?” The impatience in his voice was quite plain to hear.

“It is as Ser Harrold said. Lord Strong is dead. My preliminary examinations point to a burst bowel but a more thorough examination would be required to truly confirm it.” Mellos hesitated before continuing. “I do not believe he passed today. The signs of the body indicate the death occurred at least a day ago, though certainly less than three.”

The Hand interjected. “Are you sure he was not murdered?”

The Grand Maester looked at him with disappointment. “Tis’ like I said. A more thorough examination would be needed to rule out other causes. However, all signs point to a natural death, a burst bowel the most likely cause at present.”

The Hand was frowning. “Could it truly be so fast to kill him?”

Mellos was frowning as well, no doubt at being questioned so. “You must be remembering the case of Prince Baelon. However, the prince was attended to by maesters immediately. There is no sign that Lord Strong sought help, the burst likely occurring in his sleep.”

The Hand frown deepened still. “Then how could he not be discovered sooner?”

Ser Harrold was the one to answer. “The door to his chambers was barred from the inside. The maids could not enter but they did not alert anyone believing Lord Strong did not wish to be disturbed. The door had to be broken down to enter.”

“Could it be poison?”

Mellos let out an impatient sigh, unhappy at being questioned still by the Hand. “Food was present in the chambers and it will be examined for poison. Alas, as I already said, a more thorough examination of the body would be required to provide more definite answers.” He turned to the king. “I would perform them myself if Your Grace finds them necessary.”

Viserys nodded sharply. “Do it.”

His Hand’s face was bleached white, his brother’s eyes leaving the ceiling and watching them intently ever since the mention of their father’s death, a slight frown stealing across his features.

The king shook his head sadly and took a breath to address his council.

“I doubt that this was the joyous news Your Grace had in mind to share.”

Viserys glared at his brother yet again. For all his affected hostility, he was frowning as well.

“No, it was not. I wished to share the news of Prince Aegon’s betrothal to Princess Helaena. They will be wed once she flowers. The announcement will be made at the tourney.”

The frown on Daemon’s face only deepened. “She is too young.”

Aggravation grew in him again. “And she is not flowered yet.”

“Well, what if she flowers tomorrow? Should we expect a wedding in a fortnight?”

Viserys growled at his irritating brother. “No. You know well enough that royal weddings take longer to plan than that.”

Daemon’s face showed surprise and he scoffed. “How would I know? My wedding was planned within a fortnight.” His lips stretched into a grin. “Both my weddings.”

“You and I both know that it was so you would not run. For the first that is. The second so I would not be able to stop you.”

He had the nerve to laugh in his face. “Regardless, that hardly addresses the issue of your daughter marrying too young.” He shrugged. “Especially since her elder sister, the heir to the throne, married only after turning six and ten. People might question a need for such speedy marriage.”

Irritating his brother might be but he raised a valid point. He would have to think on it some more. There was no need to rush, after all. Aegon had no need for heirs yet.

Chapter Text

When Daemon returned to their chambers after the Small Council meeting, he headed directly to the bedchamber, not even sparing her any attention. A frown marred her features as her eyes tracked him. Somehow, he looked even worse than when he had left.

She rose to her feet and followed him cautiously, to find him frowning as he paced the room. “Daemon-” She started only to be interrupted immediately. “Lock the door.”

She did and found her hand seized and herself dragged to the now familiar hidden passage without any further words spoken by her husband. She let herself be led through the dark corridors in silence, biting her lip in concern as she stared ahead at her husband’s back. Something was wrong.

There were many dark things from his dreams her husband spoke of in the cove but she did not think this would have to do with those. Something that had disturbed him greatly must have occurred during the council meeting, that was plain enough to see.

As they emerged from the darkness into the sunlight and Caraxes moved to block the passage behind them without any prompting, she was sure of it.

Daemon dropped to sit in the sand in almost the exact spot where he had stood weeks ago and stared out to the sea with a distant gaze. She dropped to sit next to him on his uninjured side and rested her head on his shoulder. “What is it?”

A hollow chuckle answered her. “I was wrong. Larys Strong was not behind the fire at Harrenhal.” He took a deep breath. “It was Viserys.” Laena blinked. None of them had guessed that. They all expected the Greens to be behind the Strong deaths.

Still, Laena very much doubted that was in fact the thing that bothered her husband. “And what is it exactly that bothers you about it?”

Daemon snorted. “Nothing. Him knowing that Rhaenyra’s sons are truly not Laenor’s does not change much if anything.”

“Then what is it that truly bothers you?”

“The Hand had the most peculiar reaction to the Clubfoot’s manner of death. He questioned it quite thoroughly to the point of annoying the Grand Maester greatly. And when the death was compared to that of my father, he grew even more disturbed, paling rather dramatically.”

Daemon’s voice grew distant. “When my father was named the Hand, my grandfather ordered a great royal hunt to celebrate it. Five days later, my father was dead of a burst bowel. After the death of the Spring Prince, grandfather gave the office to a no one second son of the Lord of Hightower.”

He gave a sad sigh and looked to the sky as he continued. “Otto Hightower seemed quite convinced it was a poison and one with effects of which he was familiar.”

Daemon pushed off the sand and started pacing agitatedly again as Laena’s horrified eyes followed him. “For years Viserys denigrated me for my attitude towards Otto Hightower, calling me paranoid and worse.” A disgusted snort escaped him. “Turns out I was not paranoid enough.”

Laena stared at him. What was she supposed to do now? What were they supposed to do? How do you fight against someone who had been plotting against your family for longer than even the most suspicious believed?

Looking at Daemon’s agitation… How was she supposed to comfort her husband now?

She got up as well and placed herself in path of his pacing. When he came to her, she put her hands on his arms and stilled him. She waited until his eyes rose to hers and placed a hand on his cheek. “We will make him pay. We will make them pay. And they will see all that they have built turn to ashes.”

A chuckle filled with dark amusement escaped her husband as he framed her face in his hands and lowered his head to whisper against her lips. “I knew there was a reason I married you.”

A grin stretched her lips in response. “So it was not my beauty or my wit or my dragon? It was my bloodthirstiness?”

He laughed as he rested his forehead against hers. “Well, you did ask me to rid you of your betrothed so nicely.”

Her breath stilled as he lowered his head and his lips ghosted along her throat. She brought his head back up to kiss him properly and then gave him a stern glare. “Not in the sand.”

He grinned at her again, mischief alight in his eyes.

When they returned to their bedchamber, Daemon unceremoniously shed his wet clothes on the ground and collapsed onto the bed face first, already dead to the world before his head even hit the mattress.

Laena smiled as she regarded him sprawled out across the bed on his stomach. Poor thing, he had been spending nights out in the city and trying to sleep during the days. That turned out to be a failed effort, largely owing to the number of children around. He had been increasingly more tired the longer his convalescence went on.

Getting rather cold now, she dumped the dress she carried to the pile Daemon made and changed into a fresh shift quickly.

There were two thumps of something colliding with the bedchamber door and she jumped as twin outraged calls of “muña!” and “kepa!” sounded. Glancing towards the bed, her husband gave no sign of life.

She sighed, reached for his dressing gown, and threw it over him. Then she reached for her own and called out “Just a moment!” as she threw it on, heading to the door. Her forehead rested against it for just a moment before she pulled it open, slipped through the opening, and pulled it closed behind her in a smooth motion born of practice.

Two little faces were staring up at her as she did so. “Where’s kepa?”

Dropping to her knees, she smiled at them. “He’s sleeping. How about we leave him to it, hm?”

Rhaena’s lower lip pushed out in a pout and she gave her a pleading look she perfected on her father. “But I wanted him to tell me a story about Silverwing.”

She did not stop smiling. “How about I tell you a story about Silverwing? In the nursery, where everyone can hear?”

Rhaena’s eyes teared up and she hugged her toy dragon to her face. “But I want kepa to tell it to me.” Oh, she was good but there was no way Laena was letting her into the room now that Daemon was finally sleeping.

Laena dropped her smile for a sad sigh and a pleading look of her own. “Your kepa is very tired. He needs to sleep so he can get better. Don’t you want him to get well soon so he can take you flying on Caraxes again?”

Rhaena bit down on her lip, frowning and considering her options. Baela was looking at her mother with suspicion and seemed to be on the verge of voicing them when Rhaena gave a solemn nod. “Alright, you can tell me a story.”

She smiled at her and offered them a hand each as she rose to her feet. “Thank you. Let us go then.”

Chapter Text

Otto could have not been more surprised when his brother Hobert, Lord of Oldtown, and a dozen of his household guards thundered into the capital with no notice a few days before Prince Aemon’s tourney was set to begin. His brother had had no intention to attend the last he heard from him and it was quite a journey from Oldtown to have sent no forewarning of his coming.

He jumped out from behind his writing desk as his brother was announced and did not even wait for his answer, pushing past the servant, dust from his travel still on his skin and clothes.

“Brother, I was not expecting your visit. Whatever changed your mind about attending the tourney?”

Hobert seemed taken aback by the question for but a moment. “I could not care less for the fucking tourney! Do you have any idea how bad this is?”

Otto spoke through clenched teeth. “You will need to be a bit more specific, brother.”

“The moment the cursed rumors spread in Oldtown, trouble began! I was summoned to the Starry Sept by the High Septon himself! Me!”

Otto could have laughed at the overreaction. “Aegon is but a boy, he will grow out of it. There is little to worry about.”

His brother stared at him as if he lost his wits. “This has nothing to do with Aegon!” He shook his head in disbelief. “Have you not been reading my ravens?”

Otto rolled his eyes at him. “I assure you, I have. And the last one let me know you would not be visiting the capitol for the tourney in honor of the little pest, yet here you are.”

Hobert rubbed his hands over his face and spoke very slowly. “I sent you at least a dozen ravens since.”

“What?”

His brother nodded warily. “I sent two while still in Oldtown and then more along the way, from every keep we rested at. We sailed upriver where we could and rode our horses hard the rest of the way.”

Otto stumbled back, his back hitting his desk. “What?”

“Very well. I will assume you did not get any of them.” His brother let out a heavy sigh as he dropped himself onto a chair and rubbed his face again. “The rumors are calling Viserys a kinslayer.”

“Over a bastard?”

Hobert’s brows drew together in annoyance. “No, not over a bastard.” He paused before continuing. “At least not only over that.” He rolled his eyes as he spoke. “Did you know that they say that Viserys himself smothered the babe in his crib?”

Otto could hardly believe what he was hearing. “Surely, you are jesting.”

His brother glared at him. “Do I look as if I jest? No. I do not. But it is not that tale that roused the High Septon. Queen Aemma was the king’s cousin. It had been known to all that she died in childbed but none knew that the king ordered her cut open, killing her. They blame him for the death of his son too.”

And Otto laughed. “And what would the king have to gain by all these deaths?”

His brother’s glare was venomous. “Have you mayhaps forgotten how quickly after the queen’s death the king took Alicent to wife? And how quickly after they had their first son? A hale and hearty boy, unlike any Queen Aemma bore?”

Otto was still chuckling under his breath as he spoke. “Few lords could ever remarry if that was all it took to be a kinslayer.”

Hobert looked him in the eye tiredly. “No man is so accursed as the kinslayer. Tell me, do you remember when the king’s health started to fade?”

Otto’s laughter froze in his lungs. Yes, he remembered. It was the damned cut that would not heal. The cut given to him when he had disinherited his brother.

“There are whispers that the king killed his wife and his child to be free to marry his mistress. The mysterious illness the king has suffered ever since then all the proof some need.”

“I have heard of no such thing.”

His brother rose from his seat and walked to a window. “I suppose you would not have. The best I can tell this rumor started in the Citadel itself and makes mention of Runciter’s knowledge on the matter. Only Gods know what blasted maester stumbled on some scrap of old Grand Maester’s ramblings and thought it a grand idea to make a study of it. When the news of the prince’s stabbing and the quarrel with his whore arrived to us, it merely served to strengthen them and fan the flames.”

Otto’s lips pressed into a thin line. What a convenient timing. And he could not help but wonder. How did they do it? Only a dragon could fly faster than a raven. Yet not a single dragonrider was left unobserved for long enough time to reach Oldtown, much less return.

“What interest does the High Septon have in such slander?”

A dark chuckle escaped his brother. “He? None. But it was pressed upon me that he could hardly give reason to support our cause with so little to show for it. It matters little what the truth is or what the High Septon believes. Even he answers to the faithful. And the faithful believe the Gods to be punishing the king for his actions.”

Outrage took over Otto. “So little? Have you taken a look around the keep? Have you not seen the changes?”

Hobert turned to face him again, his expression grave. “I have seen them. Yet what benefit does it all bring to the Faith? Without something tangible soon, the High Septon will lose his faith in us.”

Otto waved the concern away. “High Septons come and go.”

The expression on his brother’s face turned incredulous. “And you think the support of his replacement would be free? Truly?” His laughter was mirthless. “Nothing is for free, brother, least of all the support of the Faith.”

A contemplative silence settled between them for a while.

“What is this about Aegon?”

Otto wished for the silence to return and took a careful breath.

“His uncle, Prince Daemon, named him the foulest rapist in an argument with his brother, yet Viserys did nothing.”

Hobert snorted. “What is there to do? Let the boy sow his wild oats. Have you forgotten what menaces the king and his brother were on the Street of Silk in their youth?”

As the Hand of the King entered the Grand Maester’s chambers, he was frowning once again.

One raven getting lost would be no strange thing, even two, and yet if what his brother said was true it was many more ravens that were never delivered to him.

Had Mellos betrayed them? Why? What was there to gain?

His smile was thin as he greeted the Grand Maester. “Grand Maester, I find myself curious as to raven keeping. Would you have some time to indulge my questions?”

Mellos seemed startled at the topic but invited Otto to sit nevertheless. “Ravenry is an expansive topic. What is it that interests you?”

He gave a careless shrug. “It seems a task below a Grand Maester to care for animals.”

Mellos smiled at him at the statement. “It is, indeed. One of my assistants cares for them and brings any messages to me.”

“I see. They must be kept quite busy with ravens coming in day and night.”

Mellos laughed at that. “Gods, no. That would be quite a waste of time. The ravens are trained to wait until they are relieved of their message. They will not leave before so there is no need to keep watch. They are checked when the assistants are not busy with other tasks.”

“What if there is an important message in the night?”

The Grand Maester shrugged. “Then the raven will keep till morning. Messages arrived in the night are always checked in the morn by whatever assistant is assigned the duty.”

“Ah, I believe I would prefer to be informed immediately. Please do assign an assistant to a night duty as well.”

Mellos was taken aback by the request. “My Lord Hand, I assure you there is little need. As I said, the ravens will stay till relieved.”

He gave the man a cold smile. “Oh, I insist, Grand Maester.”

Chapter Text

The day the tourney was to start dawned bright and yet Laena found herself unwilling to leave the bed. She laid on her side, hands tucked under her cheek, and watched her husband sleep. Were she not wary of waking him, she could have stretched her fingers and caressed his cheek like the sunlight did. He looked so much better now than he had just a few days before.

A grin stretched her lips. A few nights’ worth of good sleep would do that to a man after a fortnight of sleeplessness. A corner of his lips curled the tiniest bit and she knew he was awake. “I can feel you smiling.”

The grin on her face widened and she leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Liar.”

He turned onto his back opening his eyes and smiled up at her, brows raised. “Am I? Are you not smiling? Hm, we should do something about that.” His fingers ghosted up her sides and she collapsed onto his chest in helpless giggles. He laughed softly as he recovered from the blow to his stomach she dealt him as she did so.

“Not smiling at all, are we?”

She shook her head against his nightshirt, hiding her face stubbornly.

“Muña! Kepa!” Sounded just beyond the door and she could feel Daemon take a breath before he called out. “Go away! We’re busy!”

Then a voice sounded directly next to them. “You’re not busy! You just want to kiss!”

Laena could do little else than giggle harder into her husband’s shirt.

Daemon’s voice was annoyed as he retorted to their daughter. “As you can see, your muña is too busy for that too.”

When she finally found the strength to push herself away, she was gasping for breath, her cheeks were wet and hurting and her daughters and nephews were looking at her in curiosity. She fought a rising blush.

Daemon saved her from her rising embarrassment. “How come you are all already dressed for the day?”

Addam’s eyes were huge as he replied. “Aemon’s tourney starts today! We were never to a tourney before, kepa!” And she supposed that was true indeed for all of the children.

As she glimpsed a flash of brown hair at the door, she sighed. “What about you, Naerys? Are you excited for the tourney as well?”

The girl made a single step into the bedchamber and gave her a shy smile and a nod before planting her gaze firmly on the ground.

“Will you be the queen of love and beauty?”

She met Addam’s adoring gaze and smiled at him in regret. “I very much doubt that.” She had never been crowned one before and with Daemon not competing, she would not be at this tourney either. There were few knights fool enough to crown her only to face her husband’s wrath and Dark Sister. And yet she did want to wear the crown this time. It was her son’s tourney after all.

Her husband kissed the top of her head. “She should be. She will be the most beautiful lady there.”

Even Naerys raised her head to nod enthusiastically at that.

Rhaena dropped her chin into the palms of her hands and was looking at her dreamily. “You would be so beautiful with roses in your hair.”

She smiled at all of them and had to blink tears away from her eyes. “Thank you.”

Laena examined her reflection in the mirror critically as Daemon explained the importance of favors and the mystery of the mystery knights to his captive audience. They were all dressed simply but richly in the Targaryen colors, only Addam and Alyn wearing silver and teal of House Velaryon still. Once they truly took up duties of Daemon’s pages, the reversed colors would change for the Targaryen ones.

The children in their party would certainly not look out of place among the princes and princesses in the royal box. Laena had to suppress a smile as she thought of the king’s face once he would realize that Laenor’s natural sons would be seated just a few places away from Rhaenyra’s, their differences on display for the whole world to see.

She turned away sharply, deeming her appearance satisfactory. “Let us go then, shall we?”

Her husband was already shaking his finger at her. “As I just explained, every lady must have a favor to give out to a favored knight, if asked. Do you have such a token, dear wife?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “You know well enough that I need no such thing.”

Her husband put a hand to his heart as he spoke to the children. “Do you see how the fair lady disobeys the rules of the tournament? Whatever shall we do about it?”

She laughed at his theatrics and went to a chest to take out a spare handkerchief embroidered with silver seahorses. She waved it in his face in a challenge. “If anyone dares to ask for my favor, it shall be a Velaryon favor they receive.”

The children clapped their hands and he laughed at her, happy with his victory.

There were three chairs less than there should have been waiting for them in the royal box.

It was surely meant as an insult, as a clear yet subtle sign that Addam, Alyn, and Naerys were not welcome there but the king, his wife or his daughter would not dare cause a scene at their presence. Laena had to suppress a smirk. They would be sorely disappointed.

Daemon put Baela and Rhaena in a seat together, making one free for Naerys, and bade Addam and Alyn to go to their grandparents, where they could sit on their knees. It hardly lessened their visibility, only made their kinship more pronounced.

Laena gave them all a smile as she sat down in her own seat with Aemon in her arms, her husband on one side, and her daughters on the other.

They all rose with everyone else as the king and his family arrived and Laena kept her gaze fixed on Aemon to avoid having to acknowledge any of them. He was such a sweet and content babe. Sometimes it was truly a shame that, unlike the girls, Daemon had not yet managed to train him to get them out of unwanted situations.

As the king opened the tourney with great cheer, Ser Criston Cole, the only knight of the Kingsguard to compete and the queen’s sworn shield, approached the royal box to request the queen’s favor. He received it along with her gracious smile and Laena’s smile became entirely fixed in its artifice as she saw the smiling face of the murderer of her brother’s beloved.

She lowered her head again to look at Aemon’s peaceful face and ran a light finger along his soft cheek. Thus, she was entirely surprised as a voice boomed out in front of her. “My Lady Laena, would you do me the great honor of granting me your favor? With your lord husband’s kind permission, of course.”

Her head snapped up, her eyes wide, as she stared at the closed helmet of a mystery knight. Her eyes darted to her amused husband and back. She chanced a look at her parents beaming with pride and the children bouncing in excitement. Then she looked to the king and her good-sister and saw no reaction. Did they truly not realize?

She glanced at Daemon and his raised brows and grinned at him as she stood up and approached the railing. “And what would your name be, my good knight?”

She could hear an answering grin in his booming voice. “The Silver Knight, my lady.”

Then, with the seriousness gained in their many childhood games, she handed him the handkerchief embroidered with the Velaryon seahorses. “May the Fourteen Flames bless you and light your path to victory.”

When she sat back down, she leaned over to her husband and whispered. “The Silver Knight?”

Daemon shrugged at her innocently and whispered back. “He rejected my suggestion of The Silver Fool.”

Laena could no longer contain her laugh.

Chapter Text

“How did you do it?” Those were the first words Laena spoke to her husband once they were back in the sanctuary of their bedchamber after the first day of the tourney ended.

His smirk seemed to be his only answer so she wheedled him some more. “My brother hates tourneys. He never competes. He never even watches anymore. So how did you convince him to do it?”

Her husband shrugged and turned away from her. “It would seem he loves you more than he hates tourneys.”

She embraced him from behind and squeezed him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

He faced her again, puzzled. “Don’t thank me. You don’t even have the crown yet.” No, she did not but it was a sweet surprise for her husband and her brother to conspire on her behalf so.

“What makes you think I shall have it?” Oh, she wished for it still but to have her brother ride with her favor was already more than she had dared hope before.

“There is little as important as holding one’s seat in jousting and dragonriders usually hold it better than others. Besides, your brother is not half bad at it. I have seen him train.” A smirk spread on his face. “And I may have given him some tips.”

Rising to her tiptoes, she kissed his smirk away. “Thank you.” She laughed. “I can’t believe you managed to lecture the children on the importance of the identity of mystery knights remaining a mystery and talk me into taking a favor without me becoming suspicious.”

Having her brother near, competing in a tourney for her, somehow made even the company in the royal box more bearable. The shared secret a warmth enveloping her heart and giving her spirit buoyancy, her smiles no longer strained under the presence of people she grew to despise.

She had danced yet another feast away with her husband merely to escape the tense atmosphere at the high table. She wished they would stop inviting them to sit with the king. Alas, it was a vain hope for the duration of the tourney and so Daemon and her would have to do with dancing no matter how much ribbing he would receive from his brother for his eagerness.

There seemed to be little else that aggravated the king, the queen, and the Hand as much as Laena and Daemon smiling at each other and laughing together and yet that was what her husband seemed to make his mission the second day of the tourney.

Whenever Laenor was not one of the knights in the lists, he would lean over and make mock of the competing knights in low High Valyrian. When he found the knights especially boring, he would entertain her by lewd jokes in an even lower voice still in Valyrian spoken directly into her ear.

Daemon paused in his routine only if their daughters required his attention by climbing atop him and even then described the events in overly dramatic fashion, each tilt a grand adventure. Needless to say, Laena spent most of the day with a wide smile pasted on her face and shaking shoulders under the disapproving gazes of the queen and her father. She preferred not to think of what her own parents thought of their display and barely dared to look in their direction.

It was therefore a jarring change when his shoulders tensed while describing an ongoing match to Rhaena and Baela and his smile became fixed. The girls pouted at him as he placed them back into their seat after the match ended and even Rhaena’s pleading eyes proved ineffective in the face of whatever it was that seized his attention.

When he straightened, he gave her a warm smile and a kiss to the top of her head as he excused himself. “I will be back before you know it.” And then he was gone before she even had a chance to do anything but blink up at him in confusion.

She turned after him and exchanged a puzzled look with her parents at his hasty exit but was quickly distracted by the twins clambering for her attention in the absence of their father. She was forced to turn her gaze back to the lists and the new pair of knights as her daughters peppered her with questions.

There was more movement in the royal box as Rhaenyra rose and a Kingsguard followed her in a flash of white. Laena kept her face fixed to the lists, her mind churning and her heart seized by dark foreboding as she looked down at her children. Something was wrong.

It took her two more matches to realize what Daemon must have much sooner.

Her brother would ride against Ser Criston Cole in the next round.

Her lips went numb and there was suddenly ringing in her ears. She heard her own voice as if from a great distance. “Mother, would you take children to the fair? I am sure they would greatly enjoy a candied apple or two.”

She heard the delighted gasps and she knew her mother was moving but she was unable to turn her head.

It mattered little how good her brother was. This could end only in blood.

Her gaze dropped to her sweet Aemon and she fought to blink tears away as she looked at his sleeping face. She ran a finger along his tiny face and dropped her face to kiss his tiny forehead.

She raised her head as the Silver Knight and Ser Criston Cole of the Kingsguard were announced to give her brother a smile of encouragement and fix his image in her memory. Then she lowered her gaze back to her son and did not raise it again even as she heard lances impacting and splintering.

She could hear well enough that both knights retained their seat for there were no thumps to signify a fall. She could hear slow hoofbeats as they returned to their starting positions. She could hear the horses jump into a charge, hoofbeats louder. She could hear lances splintering again. And then she could hear a thump of a fall and something being dragged through the sand and bile rose in her throat.

She kept her gaze on her son, barely seeing him through a haze of tears gathered in her eyes.

Her head snapped up in disbelief as she heard the queen’s scream of pain.

Her brother was still atop his horse, apparently unharmed. As relief flooded her body, she let her tears finally escape.

It was Ser Criston Cole that was on the ground, his body no longer dragged behind his horse.

A rather large splinter of a lance was embedded in his visor, a bloody trail left in his wake.

Her brother got off his horse and walked to what could surely only be a corpse now.

There was already a maester walking toward the body with haste. When they reached him at nearly the same time, her brother stood back and let the maester examine Cole. Once the helmet was removed, there remained little doubt of his fate.

Ser Criston Cole, the murderer of Ser Joffrey Lonmouth, the man that would never be the Kingmaker again, was dead.

Laena’s hand flew up to cover her mouth as her brother knelt by Cole’s body and covered the face of the corpse with her favor.

Chapter Text

There would not be a feast that evening for the queen was unwell after the events of the day and Laena was grateful for that. Or rather, she had been grateful for that until she was approached by one of the queen’s servants with a request to attend her in the Queen’s ballroom. Not that unwell either, it would seem.

She was not at all surprised to find the queen surrounded by a gaggle of noble ladies having tea and scones and gossiping freely. If the queen believed there to be safety in numbers when it came to voicing the request Laena believed she wished to voice, she would be sorely disappointed.

As she approached, she bobbed a shallow curtsy with a smile. “Good-sister, it is good to see you recovered.” The queen’s smile in return was quite strained. Ah. So she did notice. Laena had wondered.

“Lady Laena, please come sit and join us. Have some tea.”

Laena’s smile stretched wider as she sat. “Thank you, good-sister.”

Sipping on her tea, she let her eyes roam the Queen’s ballroom. It was quite changed from what she remembered of her childhood. While her great-grandmother was certainly a devoted follower of the Seven, the room had never contained so much religious imagery during her reign.

“It was quite a shocking tourney so far, would you not agree, Lady Laena?” At Laena’s affected bewilderment, the queen elaborated. “What with the death of one of the greatest knights of our era.”

Laena opened her eyes wide in shock. “Truly? I have not realized that there was more than one death already.”

The queen’s face was quite tight as she answered her. “There was only the death of Ser Criston Cole of the Kingsguard.”

An airy laugh escaped Laena. “You must forgive me for the confusion, good-sister. I have been long away from the Seven Kingdoms and did not realize that dishonorable murderers were now considered great knights.”

“I assure you that there is no knight more honorable than Ser Criston Cole.” Laena wondered whether the queen realized just how many of the ladies’ relations she had just insulted with her statement.

“And I assure you in turn, good-sister, that that man was no honorable man, much less a knight to House Velaryon. Our House has long demanded justice for the death of Ser Joffrey Lonmouth and yet the king denied us. It would seem that where the justice of men fails, the Gods provide.”

Where the ladies had been watching them in barely disguised interest before, they hastily turned their gazes away at Laena’s declaration.

The queen’s gaze was so sharp it could peel skin. “Nevertheless, I fear I must insist that you withdraw your favor from this mystery knight of yours.”

“Oh? Must you? Whatever for?”

“Surely you must see that it is unacceptable that a member of a royal family keep favor with a knight that killed a valued knight of the Kingsguard?” And then, after a short pause, the queen added. “Surely, had you been chosen to be a queen you would have done the same?”

Well, that did not have the sting she believed it would have and Laena almost chortled as she gave the queen a well-bred shrug. “Alas, I was not and the Gods saw fit to bless me with the prince instead of the king and I must bear my burden with dignity.” And everyone present could have seen earlier that day what a burden it was indeed.

The queen’s glare only intensified. “It is good to see that you are not overburdened with the reputation your husband has.”

Oh, Laena could not have wished for a better opening. “I am sure you know how far from the truth rumors can be yourself, good-sister. After all, there was much speculation regarding your own person before you married the king and yet he married you regardless. That must have been true love.”

Alicent was white with rage. “I assure you there was not a speck of truth to the rumors of any impropriety.”

Laena affected a look of wide-eyed innocence and a beatific smile. “What impropriety? I was merely speaking of the great service you provided for my great-grandfather.” The older ladies present were looking at Laena and the queen quite wide-eyed themselves. “I sometimes wonder what great-grandfather would think of the girl who served him so becoming the queen.” One of the ladies choked on the tea she had been sipping.

The queen was staring at her in a mute rage as Laena continued smiling at her innocently.

Alicent Hightower might be a queen now but she had been raised to be a nobody. Laena had attended this kind of get-togethers since she had been a babe on the knees of the Good Queen, in her court and with her mother groomed to be the future queen.

When the queen finally found her voice, she knew better than to continue in the same vein and made a valiant attempt to close the door on the topic as she gave her an anemic smile. “I believe that he would have been proud of me. King Jaehaerys was a great man.”

“Indeed.” She let out a sad sigh. “It is such a shame you did not know him before he could no longer tell a difference between a maiden and a whore.”

“I beg your pardon?!” The queen’s voice was high and outraged once again.

Laena was innocence personified. “Oh, did he not confuse you with my great-aunt Saera on occasion?”

Alicent deflated and blinked at her in bewilderment, her voice markedly softer. “Yes. Yes, he did.”

“Hmm. I hear he enjoyed you reading him Septon Barth’s Unnatural History.”

Alicent’s smile became soft, believing herself out of the danger. “Yes, he did indeed.”

“Which part?”

The queen blinked at her in puzzlement yet again, her brows scrunched. “I do not believe I understand the question.”

Laena’s smile was understanding. “I myself have read the book many times. Which part of it did my great-grandfather enjoy the most? I believe it would help me feel closer to him to know.”

“I… It has been such a long time ago I don’t believe I can recall anymore.” The queen’s voice was the tiniest bit breathless.

Laena nodded in sympathy. “That is true. What about the king then?”

“The king?” The queen was confused.

“Which part of the book did the king enjoy the most when you comforted him after the death of Queen Aemma?”

The queen smiled at her in relief. “It was not that book I read to him. It was the Seven-Pointed Star.”

Laena’s eyes were sad. “Oh.” She leaned forward and laid a warm hand on the queen’s hand. “Regardless, I am sure you provided him a great comfort indeed.”

Chapter Text

The third and final day of the jousting dawned bright and sunny and strange.

Daemon seemed quite determined to prevent her from rising from the bed and employed his best distracting techniques to achieve such. Even when the children came to clamor at their locked door, he seemed unwilling to concede defeat.

After they had risen, he seemed unwilling to part from her side, pacing with a frown as she washed. When she dressed, he insisted on a dress that left her shoulders bare. When she was doing her hair, he insisted on leaving her hair loose. It was only after a heated exchange of glares that he relented and allowed for the simplest half-up, half-down and continued his pacing.

She gave up with a sigh. “Daemon, what’s wrong?”

He stopped to give her a bemused look. “Why would you think something is wrong?”

An incredulous laugh escaped her. “Seriously?” When he blinked at her mutely, she rose and stood in front of him. “When was the last time you worried over what I wear and how I style my hair?”

And there was some sort of worry in his eyes even as he raised a corner of his mouth in a grin. “Mayhaps I merely wish for nothing to hinder your beauty once you are crowned the queen of love and beauty.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “You seem awfully confident of this still.”

He leaned down to kiss her nose. “That is because I am.”

A frown marred her features. “Why?”

An exasperated sigh escaped him. “Because they all underestimate him. Cole did too. And do you know why?” At her headshake, he continued. “Because all mystery knights are untried green boys riding in their first tourney. While Laenor might be competing for the first time, he is hardly that.”

“Oh.” She had not realized that. “All mystery knights?”

A careless shrug was her answer. “Near enough.”

“Very well.” There was some resignation in her voice. She would put whatever it was that had Daemon so out of sorts out of her mind for now.

Her resolution did not last her long as, when they seated themselves in the royal box, she found herself blinking in confusion at finding Daemon and the twins reversed in their places by her sides. Her head rose to frown at the side of her husband’s face.

“Do you believe it the best idea to have our daughters sat so near the king?”

He turned to her with a mischievous grin as he dropped a kiss to her bare shoulder. “Why? Do you believe them a danger to him?” Well, she understood the dress now at least.

She smoothed out her frown and turned her worried gaze in the direction of the king. The twins were not known for their tact and they had not liked the look of the king when they had been presented to him.

She kept her face carefully blank and gave a nod as she encountered Rhaenyra’s unhappy expression instead. Gods, was she pouting?

She smiled as she faced forward again and laid a hand on her husband’s jumping knee, raising her eyes skyward. “I changed my mind. You can entertain me today as well.” His grin was devilish as he raised her hand from his now still knee to kiss her knuckles. He did not release it even as the tilts started and he resumed his routine from the day before.

Still, as she brought her weary head to rest on his shoulder, she could feel tension in him. And she could feel it finally drain as he brought his arm up behind her to hold her and rested his cheek against her head. She closed her eyes for a moment and her smile became a true one.

When she raised her head again, she brought Daemon’s lips to hers. “Do you think it would be awfully rude, if we left our children here with their grandparents?”

He laughed against her lips. “Not very polite, true. And you would miss your brother winning a tourney for you.”

She laughed as well and kissed him again. She laughed harder when she heard Baela lecturing her sister. “See, I told you. Just cause they’re laughing doesn’t mean they’re not kissing.” She did not speak quietly.

Daemon whispered directly into Laena’s ear. “Behave.” She rested her forehead against his shoulder to try and hide her giggles.

It was with no small amount of disbelief that she watched her brother defeat all who rode against him that day. She should have known better than to question her husband on his convictions when it came to this, she supposed. But then again, Daemon had proved himself overly confident in tourneys before.

She cheered as wildly as any of the children as he won more and more matches, her husband having taken Aemon from her arms long before and laughing at her enthusiasm.

Her cheeks hurt yet again as he approached the royal box still atop his charger with a crown of blood red roses.

“My Prince Daemon, would you do me the honor of crowning your lady wife, the mother of the most beautiful prince and princesses, the queen of love and beauty?”

Laena took Aemon back and got up as Daemon solemnly approached the railing to take the crown from Laenor. She grinned at her husband when he turned back to her and bounced (bounced!) in impatience as he took a moment to regard her.

A wide grin split his face as he finally moved to place the crown on her head. Once the crown was securely on her head, he kissed her deeply amid loud cheers. Then, he rested their foreheads together shortly and stook a step back.

Laena could only stare and laugh in astonishment as he sank to his knees and bowed his head. “My queen.” Laenor was bowing deeply on his horse as well.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head at their antics. “Rise, my prince.”

Daemon rose immediately to kiss her again.

Laenor approached the box again with additional two red roses. “A rose each for said most beautiful princesses.”

The twins approached together to take them, Baela doing so only reluctantly, dragged by her sister. Still, she took her rose with a polite “thank you” and ran back to their seat. Rhaena was beaming as she took hers and her voice rang clearly. “Thank you, uncle Laenor!”

Well, they managed to keep the mystery for longer than expected.

Her brother laughed loudly, removed his helmet, and brought a hand to his heart. “You are most welcome, my beautiful princess.”

As smiles on some of the faces present in the royal box became fixed, Laena laughed loudly. “I do believe you broke my husband’s heart a little, brother, when you declared Aemon the most beautiful prince.”

Daemon brought his hand to his heart as well and affected a hurt look. “You wound me so, good-brother.”

Laenor shrugged at him without regret. “What can I say, you two make the most beautiful children.”

Chapter Text

The Velaryons guarded her uncle like a dragon hoards its treasure ever since his injury and so Rhaenyra had had no chance to speak with him privately, the disappointing talk after that disastrous council meeting that robbed her sweet Luke of his inheritance the last time they had spoken.

She looked forward to the tourney where they would be seated close together and surely an opportunity would present itself to speak to him alone again. She could still see the disappointment in his eyes when he had walked away from her. She must make him understand. The Velaryons stood against her now. They sought to turn him away as well and they were using his children by Laena Velaryon to that end.

She had been heartbroken when she had heard that he had married her. Why? Why her? Why not take Rhaenyra? What did Laena Velaryon have that she lacked? Nothing! Before she had born her uncle’s son, she had not even stood to inherit Driftmark. Rhaenyra was to be the next Queen and yet it was Laena Velaryon that her uncle freed from a forced betrothal, took to wife against the will of the king, and then fled to Essos with.

Somehow, it was always Velaryons that stood between them. Surely, he must see it.

She had been most disconcerted when her uncle seemed so in accord with his wife but then she saw it. And when the mystery knight appeared and asked for the favor of her uncle’s wife, she was sure of it.

Her uncle’s pride would never allow for another man to carry his wife’s favor. And yet here he was, not even slightly offended. He may jest with his wife. He may treasure his children. But he did not care for his wife. Not as a husband would.

She thought of Laenor and almost laughed. Could it be that both children of the proud Princess Rhaenys were only interested in their own sex? How delightful.

The longer she watched them, the more convinced she grew of it. All their interactions involved either humor or their children or both. They were putting on a show for the world to see but Rhaenyra would not be fooled so easily.

Her uncle long fought a war alongside Corlys Velaryon and they were known to be friends. Princess Rhaenys was his cousin besides. Could it be that they approached Daemon when it became clear that there would be no grandchildren of their blood without intervention? She wondered what her uncle’s assistance cost them. Was that the true reason for Luke’s loss of Driftmark?

When he finally left his wife’s side on the second day of the tourney, she knew her time finally arrived and she followed him out of the royal box swiftly.

He was walking away, making his way through the empty passage under the stands quickly and she was left no choice but to call after him. “Uncle!”

He turned only to throw back “Not now, Rhaenyra!” and continued on his way.

She was forced to pick up her skirts to run after him and seize his arm to stop him. “Now, uncle.”

His irritated glare pierced her. “Now is really not a good time, Rhaenyra. I have matters to attend to.”

She laughed and twined her arm around the one she held already to keep him in place. “Now, uncle. The Velaryons have kept us apart long enough.”

He stared at her for a moment as if debating something before his eyes darted behind her and back. She turned her head with a minute frown that eased as she spotted her Kingsguard knight and she smiled in understanding. “You need not worry about Ser Arryk, uncle.”

He closed his eyes with a resigned sigh and when he opened them, he spoke in Valyrian as well. “Very well. What is it you wish to speak of, niece?”

The smile she gave him was brilliant. “I understand now that we find ourselves in a similar position when it comes to our spouses. A marriage of duty, not one of enjoyment. I believe we can help each other out on that front.”

Daemon considered her for a while clearly taken aback by her words. “I must apologize, niece, but it escapes me how you came to believe that my marriage is not one of enjoyment. I assure you my wife and I enjoy ourselves quite a bit.”

His attempt was valiant but she saw right through him and she had to laugh. “Just not together?” As he opened his mouth in surprise to reply, she forestalled him by continuing. “Your little displays? Tis’ plain enough that it is merely a game to you and your wife. A game to fool those not familiar with you. But I know you, uncle, and I saw the truth clear enough.”

Her uncle stared at her speechless, something horrified flashing in his eyes so she continued as she patted his arm to comfort him. “Worry not, I shall not reveal your secret.”

His voice was strained. “What secret?”

“I assume that Driftmark was the price for providing Lord Corlys with a grandson? I understand that now and fear not. I do not hold it against you.” When he did not reply, only stared at her in stupefaction, she smiled and continued. “However, I do have needs of my own. I assume you are immovable in your decision not to betroth your daughters to my sons?” He gave a half-nod mutely, still staring at her.

Her smile became impish. “Then I shall require a daughter of my own, of clear Valyrian parentage. I’ve always wished for a daughter to name Visenya.”

His eyes widened as she spoke and when he spoke next, his words were measured. “Then I suppose that is something you should speak of with your husband.”

She let out a peal of amused laughter. “Let us speak plainly, uncle. Surely, you must know my husband incapable of such.”

Irritation returned to him. “I assure you, I know no such thing. You might have missed my wards, Laenor’s natural sons.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. They are clearly of Lord Corlys’ seed. How he managed to fool his wife so is a truly astonishing feat. Though I am hardly surprised that Laenor supported him in it.”

Agitation was growing in her uncle’s voice. “The boys are Laenor’s. I spoke to their mother myself and he claims them freely.” She shook her head in amusement, hardly believing her uncle’s naivety in the matter.

“Regardless, what say you to my proposal, uncle? Your daughter would be Jace’s queen one day.” This would finally quiet the tongues wagging and show the damned Greens.

He brought up a hand to cover his eyes and rubbed his face. “Gods, woman, I know you have some sense. To see you misapply it so…” He laughed and shook his head in bemusement. “Sometimes you take after your grandmother so much I find myself understanding uncle Vaegon.”

Her heart warmed at being compared to Alyssa Targaryen though the finer points of it escaped her. “I would have your answer clearly, uncle. Do you agree?”

He darted another look to Ser Arryk and looked her directly in the eyes as he spoke firmly. “No. And you have delayed me long enough, niece.”

He tore his arm out of her grasp and near enough ran from her as she gaped after him.

She had not expected such a plain refusal and she supposed it had been her own fault. She had been so confident in her victory that she had not considered other factors. He had been clearly in a hurry and uncomfortable to speak in the presence of Ser Arryk.

They would need to speak again.

Chapter Text

Rhaenyra was slow to return to the royal box, already contemplating when to approach her uncle next to ensure they would be truly alone. She was so lost in thought that, when she finally ventured there, she almost walked into Princess Rhaenys leaving the box with a horde of children.

An amused smirk twisted her lips at the haughty princess attending her husband’s bastards so. She gave the princess a nod and remained standing in the back of the box, unwilling to be on display with such turmoil still in her head.

When the match between Ser Criston and her good-sister’s mysterious champion was announced, a genuine smile split her face. Oh, it would be fun to watch the knight be humiliated and his lady seemed well aware of what was to happen as she kept her eyes diverted from the competing knights and fastened on her son. Rhaenyra would bet that she was already missing her husband’s distractions. And yet her uncle had gone and left her.

She could hardly believe her eyes when the Kingsguard did not already unhorse the green knight in their first tilt. It would seem that dear Ser Criston was already losing his edge. Her good-sister’s head remained stubbornly pointed down.

And then she watched in disbelief as the second tilt unfolded. Her former sworn shield threw the broken lance away and took a new one, charging toward his opponent without care. Rhaenyra had attended great many tourneys and had been therefore lectured many times on the importance of protecting one’s sight. Ser Criston did not. He kept his eyes on the opposing knight even as the knight’s lance rose to aim at his head.

She took a shocked step back as the lance connected and the Kingsguard fell from his horse and was dragged until the horse was brought to a stop. The queen’s scream had torn the air but shock froze sound in Rhaenyra’s throat and she was left blinking in incomprehension.

She believed herself in love with him once. She had given him her maidenhead but he had betrayed her most callously and much of the unhappiness in her life could be lain at his feet. His and the queen’s. And yet as she stared at his corpse she could not help but feel a loss, a need to cry. She should feel relief. One of the queen’s great supporters was dead. Why wasn’t she happier? Rhaenyra felt numb.

It took a while for the queen to calm and when she did, she called her brother to her side and whispered into his ear. Rhaenyra watched in suspicion as Ser Gwayne departed the royal box in haste. When he returned to the box after a long while, he was frowning unhappily.

After the day’s jousts ended and the king and most of those present departed, the queen railed on her brother. “Where is he?”

Ser Gwayne frustration was evident. “Not here. Prince Daemon was there.”

The queen was taken aback. “What?”

Her brother sighed. “We could not arrest him. Prince Daemon is the Master of Laws and as he pointed out, despite Ser Criston’s death, the mystery knight committed no crime.”

The queen was enraged by the reply. “I am your queen and I gave you an order! That should be enough!”

Ser Gwayne stared at her. “Sister, be reasonable. We could not start a fight with Prince Daemon over this. Not out in the open. We will wait until after the tourney ends and no one cares.”

The queen deflated at his words.

She wondered at that. What was her uncle doing there? What interest did he have in the mystery knight to prevent his arrest?

Rhaenyra could have rolled her eyes at her uncle’s antics the next day. Could he not simply admit that she was right in her assumptions? To see him increase displays of physical affection for his wife to simply prove her wrong was truly laughable.

Still, she could not help but feel resentment as her good-sister draped herself all over her uncle. Did she have no decency? And then she even kissed him! In public! She could well understand maintaining appearances but to do it so shamelessly…

But then as she watched Laena Velaryon jump up from her seat and cheer her mystery knight as he progressed further and further through the final rounds, she realized her good-sister had no shame indeed. To behave so for another man not just in front of her husband but the whole realm!

When the knight won the final tilt, her good-sister was buzzing with happiness so sure of her being crowned the queen of love and beauty now. It would serve her well to see another lady crowned instead, Rhaenyra thought with a smirk, but as the knight approached the royal box with the crown of roses, she found that hope dwindling.

She almost laughed out loud at the nerve of the knight to ask her uncle to place the crown on his wife’s head. Still, to label her the mother of the most beautiful prince stung. Her beautiful sons were right there and not just a babe in swaddling clothes.

A red veil came over her vision as she saw her uncle kneel before his wife and name her a queen and she gasped for breath.

When all the lords of the realm had come and knelt to her as the uncontested heir to the throne, her uncle had not. He had not knelt to her then and he had not knelt to her ever since. And yet he dared to kneel to this nobody over a silly crown of roses! He dared!

She had to close her eyes and force measured breaths to calm herself. And then, the voice of one of the twin nuisances called out her husband’s name and Rhaenyra’s eyes snapped open as her cursed husband removed his helmet with a laugh.

Laenor never competed in tourneys. Never. And yet here he was, with his sister’s favor having crowned her the queen of love and beauty instead of his wife, Rhaenyra, who was right there, and was joking with his good-brother and sister, not even acknowledging Rhaenyra and her sons.

She held back a sneer and kept a practiced smile on her face. Her husband truly was a simpleton if he did not realize how that would look to the realm. Her smile became more genuine as she heard her father’s voice tight with anger order Ser Arryk to bring her husband up to the royal box.

She stood up and smoothed out her dress as the king ordered the royal box cleared of children and all but the family. She barely withheld a laugh as even Aegon was included among the children ejected.

A sense of great satisfaction grew in her as she saw the wide eyes on Laena Velaryon as she stepped closer to her husband. A frown flashed on her uncle’s face and then was gone with a blink of an eye as he placed his arms around his wife.

Interestingly enough, the queen looked quite unhappy with the identity of the mystery knight herself. Even the Hand was frowning and when Laenor finally appeared, he was glaring daggers at him as if he had caused him some great injury.

Her father’s voice resounded in the box with barely contained rage. “What is the meaning of this?”

Her uncle’s eyes darted around before he stepped forward to address her father, likely intending to take the blame and she was proven right as he spoke loudly and proudly. “Your grace, as I could not compete myself due to my injury, I asked Laenor to carry my wife’s favor in my stead. It was a tourney in our son’s honor after all.”

“Silence!” Everyone but her uncle flinched at the king’s roar. “I will not be made a fool of!”

A corner of her uncle’s lips lifted up as he stared into the ground seemingly contrite.

Her father seemed to wheeze for a short while in his rage and all were arrested watching him catch his breath. When he went to speak again, he stared around in confusion.

Her uncle was gone.

Rhaenyra blinked.

One of the white cloaks was gone as well.

Chapter Text

Daemon supposed it would be too much to hope for for his brother to let them bring so many insults to his precious Rhaenyra and her sons, however well-veiled they may have been, without a reaction. A blind fool he might be but not blind entirely as the fire at Harrenhal had proven.

That the reaction would be immediate, the king not even waiting for the privacy of a closed space rather than the royal box open to the sight of the still mostly full stands was almost too much to hope for on the other hand.

His dear brother did not even bother keeping his voice low and so Daemon’s own raised voice would hardly raise a brow. Still, he had a trouble maintaining contrite expression at Viserys‘ words when he wished to chortle so much at them.

As his brother seemed to choke on his rage, Daemon was on the verge of losing control of his merriment. This truly could not have gone any better for them.

Only tugging on his arm prevented him from letting go and when he looked into the wide and terrified eyes of Alyn, he no longer had any wish to do so. His heart sank as he quickly followed the insistent tugging of the breathless boy out of the box past the thunderous Lord Commander, whom the boy must have slipped by on the way in.

Alyn was gasping for breath still but he finally managed to choke out an explanation as they entered the stairwell. “The princes! The princes are fighting!”

A wave of dizziness washed over him and Daemon had to put out a hand to steady himself.

No. This could not be happening. Not again.

Once it passed, he ran.

That they were not in the passageway was clear enough but they could not have gone far.

He was proven right when he ran into the daylight and found a mass of bodies in front of him. He had to push his way through the gaggle of curious bystanders to the children at the center of it.

He stopped for a breath to take stock of the situation.

Helaena was sitting on the ground, rocking back and forth, holding her ears and crying.

Baela was standing opposite him, her little fists clenched and yelling at the fighting boys. If she was crying it would be tears of anger.

He could not see Rhaena, Addam, or Naerys.

There was a flash of blade and he moved before he could think better of it, shoving Aemond back and reaching to bat away the blade. Which was stupid. One does not bat a blade away with an arm, he had to remind himself as he stared at his bleeding arm. His sword arm. Again.

He glared at Aemond, Jace, and Joff all fallen on the ground, staring up at him, and at Luke, still wielding his dagger, still standing but taking a hasty step back from him, terror in his eyes.

His voice was deathly soft when he spoke. “What the fuck do you all think you are doing?”

They all started yelling at once, their voices angry. “My mother is not a whore! My brother is not a bastard!”

“Enough!” Daemon closed his eyes and had to remind himself that he was supposed to be above yelling at children.

They all quieted but were still glaring at each other.

Baela was glaring at Daemon.

He stared at his daughter’s mutinous face in confusion. He approached her and lowered himself to his haunches to lay hands on her shoulders. “What is it, sweetling?” And then found himself being yelled at again.

“They are mean! They are bad and say nasty things but you made me promise! You made us promise not to fight them!” She stomped her foot and was crying in earnest. “They are bad! But I want Moondancer! And I am not a babe!” She threw herself at him and cried into his shoulder. He hugged her to himself and got back to his feet, stroking her back soothingly.

He shot a dirty glare at the princes as he turned and found them back on their feet.

“What is a whore?” Daemon closed his eyes as he heard the question come out of his sweet Rhaena’s mouth. He was going to kill them.

“A profession,” was the answer he decided on after a fierce debate with himself. He knew his daughters well enough to know that if something caught their interest, they would question it at the most inopportune of moments until their curiosity was sated.

“I hear they work a lot on their backs.” Alyn chose to show off his knowledge on the matter and Daemon had to close his eyes again and breathe deliberate breaths. This could not be real. There was no way he was explaining this to his daughter, all of four years of age.

“That sounds nice.” There was dreaminess in her voice that Daemon intensely misliked.

“It is not. One can meet many mean people.”

She bit her lip and frowned. “So it is not for me?” Baela stopped crying and was listening intently.

He grinned at Rhaena as he came to crouch in front of her. “No. You would do very poorly at it. I would scare all your customers away.”

She was looking at him with no small dose of suspicion but then gave him a bright smile. “Alright!”

Daemon breathed out in relief and got up again, ready to address the princelings who were all staring at him with wide eyes.

But first things first. His eyes roved over Rhaena, Addam, Naerys, and Alyn again. “Are any of you hurt?” There were headshakes all around. Good. There would be hell to pay otherwise.

He finally turned to Lucerys. “Why in the Gods’ name do you have a blade?”

The boy stuck out his chin at him in defiance. “It was a gift for my previous nameday.”

Daemon had never thought to ask before but… “What utter moron gives live steel to a child of four namedays?!”

As he raised his eyes in bewilderment and saw a spark of amusement in the eyes of Ser Harrold Westerling, he knew the answer even before the boy voiced it. “The king.”

Daemon closed his eyes in pain again. Of course, he did.

There were scattered coughs and titters among the crowd gathered around them at Luke’s declaration.

Well, this was his brother’s mess to clean up and he would be happy to leave it to him.

“Ser Harrold, please inform the king of what happened here.”

The Kingsguard left and smirks started to appear on the faces of the princes. The little shits knew, just as well as he did, that the king would deal out no true punishments.

Baela must have already wised up to the state of things because she started to whine directly into his ear and he had to suppress a wince. “That’s not fair! They fought and you’re letting them get away with it!”

“None of you were hurt so they are not mine to punish.”

“But you’re hurt!”

He smiled softly at the smirking boys. “That’s different. I am an adult. If any of you were hurt, I might have been forced to do something regrettable.”

The smirks disappeared.

His smile widened.

Laenor arrived first, running, Laena and their parents close on his heels. They barely spared any of the princes a look.

Laena came to him first, seeing Baela in his arms and he rushed to reassure her. “None of the children are hurt. Baela was just upset.” She ran a hand through Baela’s hair and kissed her head before crouching to check on Rhaena.

Laenor was checking Addam, Alyn, and even Naerys over for injuries despite Daemon’s reassurance. They were all subdued but otherwise fine. Addam turned his big eyes on his father. “We’re fine but kepa is bleeding.”

Laena gasped and came back to him with a disapproval writ on her face. “Daemon!”

He rolled his eyes at her as he gave her a half-grin. “Spare your scolding, woman. I’ve had worse.”

She still had the damn crown on her head. He used his injured arm to bring her closer to him so he could rest their foreheads together and breathe her in.

What was taking his brother so damn long?

“We should go.” Daemon looked at his wife, for it was her soft voice that spoke. “My dress is wet with your blood.”

He shook his head and his voice was soft as well. “The princes cannot be left without supervision.”

When Ser Harrold returned an eternity later, he did so alone and his expression was grave. “The king has collapsed, my prince.”

Typical.

Chapter Text

Daemon could not believe that just less than an hour past he had thought them lucky, had thought on just how well things had gone for them. Now he was stuck with a horde of children, half of them entirely hostile and he was injured yet again. At least his wound stopped bleeding.

He reluctantly separated from his wife and looked to the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard who just happened to be the ideal person to fob the princes off on. “I assume you can escort the princes back to their parents without further assistance, ser?”

The Kingsguard seemed unhappy with the question and once he spoke it became quite clear why. “Everyone already left with the king, my prince.”

Daemon stared at him in incomprehension. They had left. They had left without their children?

His brother had chosen oblivion over taking responsibility for his family but what excuse had the others? He almost snorted as the answer occurred to him immediately. Neither side would trust the unconscious king into the hands of the other and therefore the children had to be forgotten. Delightful.

His eyes darted around them and caught on the not-yet-Kinslayer. He looked resigned. Rhaenyra’s sons looked confused but he was resigned. Why?

“Very well then, I think it is high time we depart for the Red Keep ourselves.” He called Laenor over to hand Baela into his care and guided Rhaena over to the no-longer crying but still rocking Helaena where he crouched and made an effort to gentle his voice as much as possible. “Princess, we are going to take a walk to the Keep. Would you do me the honor of escorting my daughter Rhaena? She would very much like for you to tell her all about Dreamfyre.”  

Her teary eyes rose to meet his. “No One-Eye?”

He blinked and shook his head. “Not today. Not if I can help it.”

Her hesitation was plain as she bit her lip and he wondered what was going on in her head. “I no longer dream.” Her voice was a whisper. “Not since Driftmark.”

His eyes widened in shock. She was a dreamer? The fucking Greens had had a dreamer on their side? How the fuck had they ever managed to lose the capital?

Rhaena was bouncing by his side. Right. He wanted to do something. “Would you like to get up? Or do you need help?”

Aemond rushed to his sister’s side but Daemon’s hand snapped up to grab his reaching arm. His sister was in no state to interact with her brother, one-eyed or not.

Helaena gave Rhaena a tremulous smile and rose to take her hand. “Did you know that Dreamfyre hatched for Rhaena Targaryen?” And just like that Rhaena was lost to the world.

Daemon rose to his feet as well, still gripping an arm. “Not now. You lot did enough already.” He let go without even looking at him.

Sweeping his eyes over their group, he met the unimpressed stares of first Corlys and then Rhaenys. They must have realized what he did. This was promising to grow into quite a pain. His hand rose to rub the bridge of his nose.

As he let his hand drop, he addressed the princes again. “We will all walk to the Red Keep and we will all be civil to each other. There will be no arguments, name-calling, shoving, or mischief. Am I clear?”

“What do you mean walk?” Daemon did not appreciate the attitude in Jace’s voice but he made an effort to keep his tone even in reply. “I mean walk as in putting one foot in front of the other to produce movement and arrive at a set destination.”

Aemond snickered and Jace’s lip curled in a snarl. “But we are princes.”

Daemon was sorely reminded of Viserys shouting “I am the king!” at him over the years and was not impressed. His voice was bright as he answered. “What a coincidence, so am I. My daughters are princesses and they are going to walk as well. They also happen to be little girls that are not complaining.” There was an unhappy grumble from Baela’s direction that he chose to ignore.

Jace’s chin jutted out. “I will go by carriage. My brothers as well. The whoreson can go with you.”

Daemon blinked as Aemond muttered by his side. “My mother is not a whore.” That was unexpected. And fast.

Ser Harrold saved him from a reply. “The carriages have gone with the king, my prince.”

Of course, they did. He shrugged his shoulders with a laugh. “Well, it would seem that you will have to wait here until someone remembers to send a carriage for you then and we will walk to the Red Keep without you.”

He turned to the Velaryons, who still made no attempt to so much as talk to their supposed sons and grandsons. “Shall we go then?” He turned to walk away not waiting for a response. He knew they would follow him.

Rhaenyra’s sons stood looking after them stubbornly, Ser Harrold remaining to stand with them.

The group could not have moved more than twenty paces before Jace broke and ran to catch up with them with his brothers. There was the slightest smile on the face of the Lord Commander as he brought up the rear.

They did not set a quick pace so Daemon expected there would be someone already anxiously awaiting their return to the Red Keep but he was proven wrong upon their arrival there. He was left somewhat directionless as to what to do with the children not his own.

He was leery of releasing the princes to their own devices. He frowned as he mulled over a solution. He raised his eyes to the ceiling and almost swore out loud as he saw a seven-pointed star there. He closed his eyes in annoyance.

“Niece, why don’t you accompany my children and wards to their nursery? I am sure that they would all like to show you their toy dragons.”

“Please, please, please, do, cousin. Please, you must see Silverwing.” He could feel the corners of his lips lifting of their own volition at Rhaena’s pleading.

In no time at all, Daemon was left alone with the princes and Ser Harrold.

He set off for the Small Council chambers and they followed.

As he threw himself into the seat that belonged to him as the Master of Laws, his gaze flickered to the Lord Commander again. He remained standing at the door, the still unrepentant princes arrayed between them.

“Lord Commander, please have all the princes and their chambers searched and any live steel removed from their possession. Any items found are to be placed into the care of the Master-at-Arms and locked in the royal armory. They are to be returned only after the Red Keep’s Master-at-Arms deems the princes ready for them.”

Ser Harrold seemed to hesitate, mulling over Daemon’s words, before he nodded.

The faces of the princes were mutinous but they kept their mouths shut. They would no doubt complain about it later and complain loudly but if the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard found the request sound, then there would be little they would achieve.

Coming to a decision, he got up. “Follow me.”

He led them to a training yard.

“Since you have so much excess energy, I suggest you exhaust it here. By running. Each of you will run the length of this yard a hundred times. Or until you drop, I do not care which.”

All of the boys looked at him horrified and their voices clamored one over the other. “No! You can’t make me! I am a prince!”

He let them yell at him for a while with a smile before responding. “You can start running or you can find out what arguing with me gets you. Your choice.”

Doubt entered their faces. Joff broke first. Gods, sometimes he loved his reputation.

As he leaned his back against a wall to watch them run, Ser Harrold came to stand beside him. “You know, my prince, with the death of Ser Criston, Prince Aemond lost the knight he trained under. It would do him well for you to take him on as your squire.”

Daemon nearly collapsed in laughter. “Over my dead body.”

Chapter Text

The crown of red roses was removed with regret once she was back in their chambers after attending to the children. She had so hoped for it, so looked forward to being crowned the queen of love and beauty for the first time, and been so grateful for her husband’s and brother’s acting together to achieve it. And yet, in just a short span of time, all of the joy turned to ashes in her mouth, threatening to choke her.

The back of her dress was stiff with dried blood where her husband’s arm had held her as she removed it, the blood hardly even visible on the black fabric. A bile rose in her throat and she clapped a hand to her mouth to keep the sickness at bay. She breathed through her nose until she deemed it safe to remove her hand and then called for a bath. She felt a need to scrub herself clean.

Daemon found her in the bath still, head rested on her knees. She had not heard him come in and he did not speak but when she felt him lay his warm hand on her back, all the tension still remaining in her body drained all at once in a rush of tears. He hugged her awkwardly over the rim of the tub as she sobbed pathetically into his chest.

She hated this. She had hated when he had treated her like a fragile thing and now she was proving him right. When he hissed as he reached into the water to pick her up and carry her to the bed, she hated her pathetic self even more.

When he laid her in the bed, she curled on her side and looked at him as he stroked her hair. “I’m sorry.”

He frowned at her in confusion. “Whatever for?”

“For crying like this. I am not a babe.”

A corner of his lips lifted and his eyes were very soft. “No, you are not a babe. But you only recently birthed one and have been receiving shock after shock ever since. You are allowed to cry. It’s better that way.”

She scrunched up her nose at him. “Better?”

He nodded and let out a long breath. “If things continue in this vein, I might just have to burn the Red Keep and all the vipers in it to the ground.”

Put that way, crying certainly didn’t sound that bad.

She smiled at him and put her hand on the one still stroking her hair. Her other arm reached out for him. “I think it is time you got out of those wet clothes.”

His laugh warmed her heart.

Laena wondered why the closing feast had not been called off that evening with remorse as she wrapped fresh bandages around her husband’s forearm. They had expected it so and had planned for a private dinner, preferably abed. However, when the hour of the feast’s beginning came closer and no message had been sent to them still, they resigned themselves to rising and preparing themselves for another tedious evening.

Daemon objected to calling the maids to help her get dressed and so it was he who did so with no small amount of mischief. Her cheeks were flushed bright red once her dress was finally laced up properly. It was him who braided her hair in Valyrian style as well and she smiled as she watched him work in the mirror. Her smile froze on her face as she saw him reach for the rose crown.

“No.”

He looked at her with his brows raised. “It is a tradition. And your brother did fight ever so valiantly to win it for you.”

She pouted at him for a while but his brow only rose more and his smile only kept widening.

She finally rolled her eyes at him and relented.

Daemon and Laena joined her parents and Laenor to enter the feast hall together. They were left to flounder in surprise as they were announced, the great door opened for them and a hush fell over the hall. The high table was empty.

They walked forward toward it with well-practiced smiles, all the while Laena’s mind and stomach were churning. They could not have been too early for the hall was entirely full of nobles. What was going on?

When they seated themselves at their places, Daemon beckoned over one of the servants waiting to attend them and spoke to him through gritted teeth, smile still on his face. “Find out where the fuck is the king.”

The time before the servant returned moved very slowly for Laena. Every eye was fastened on them, expecting something. It was certainly the most uncomfortable she had ever remembered feeling and she had to fight off the rising embarrassed flush constantly.

The servant returned with news that Daemon disliked. She could tell by the tensing of his shoulders but knew little else as the words were spoken directly into his ear.

When the man retreated back to his post, Laena blinked and the tension was gone from her husband and his smile was wide and pleasant as he rose. “The King is unwell and sends his apologies. Let us all drink to his health.” He raised a goblet and took a sip from it, the nobles following his lead. “And let us all celebrate our stunning queen of love and beauty, my wife, Lady Laena Velaryon, and her champion and brother, Ser Laenor Velaryon!” He took a much longer pull from the goblet among the applause and set down with a wide smile still on his face.

Still smiling, he spoke in a low voice. “The king regained consciousness but remains abed. The queen and Rhaenyra have already retired for the night.”

She could only stare at him in wide-eyed disbelief. She had never attended a feast where the host, his wife, and heir were all missing.

Her father’s voice was low but strained with fury. “This is an outrage. Yet another insult to House Velaryon.”

Laena could not agree more. And yet… As she looked out at the hall filled with nobles from all over the realm, she could not help but think it was an insult to more than just House Velaryon.

“What are we going to do?”

Her husband raised an eyebrow at her question. “What else? Eat, drink, dance, and make merry. We hardly need the king for that.”

Laena was still feeling queasy from the feast the next morning. The feeling was not helped at all when one of the children’s nurses rushed in to inform her that the Princess of Dragonstone demanded one of them.

She did not bother changing from her dressing gown into a proper dress and stalked to Rhaenyra’s apartments in a fury.

“What is the meaning of this, good-sister? You can’t just make demands of my servants!”

Rhaenyra gave her a cold smile and affected surprise at seeing her. “Good-sister, good morrow to you too. One of my sons’ nurses is gone and I require a replacement. Since you have so many of them and since they work for House Velaryon already, I deemed one of yours a suitable replacement.”

Laena squeezed her fists tightly at her sides and fought off a scream of frustration. When she spoke next, her voice was far from even. “Our children’s nurses are employed by my husband and I, not House Velaryon. And you can’t just take them! They. Are. People!”

Rhaenyra’s condescending smile only widened. “I assure you that I will return your nurse undamaged once I have no further need of her.”

Laena turned and walked from her good-sister’s chambers with a door slam before she did something she would regret. Something more, that is.

Chapter Text

As Viserys stood wheezing for breath, Alicent reached out to hold him up. Her own strength would not have been enough alone but her father was there as well. When his breath returned to him, he looked around himself in apparent confusion. When his eyes settled, she followed them but saw nothing of concern.

Viserys threw himself down into his seat and descended into a coughing fit as Alicent watched him with worry. Her husband’s health had taken a sudden turn for worse this afternoon and she could do little else but watch. She took a goblet and held it for her husband to soothe his by now no doubt sore throat as the coughing receded.

He took a careful sip before speaking. “My brother.” After another careful sip, he continued. “Where did he go?”

Alicent looked around the box with a frown and realized what it was that she had failed to see before. The Rogue Prince, the man that was surely responsible for her husband’s agitation was no longer there. Her frown deepened. His wife, his cursed good-brother, and good-parents all seemed at a loss.

Ser Harrold Westerling appeared in the doorway leading to the stairwell. Alicent had not noticed him gone as well. He came closer to address the king, his expression grave. “There was a fight between the children and Prince Daemon was injured.”

“What?” Her husband was aghast.

The Lord Commander paused, considering his words. “The young princes fought. One of Prince Daemon’s wards alerted him to it and when we came upon the scene, Prince Daemon stepped into the path of a blade aimed at Prince Aemond.”

“What?!” Her voice was shrill.

The knight looked at her and his tone became reassuring. “There were no injuries other than Prince Daemon’s and he has the children well in hand now. He requested that I inform the king of the situation.”

As she turned to her husband in disbelief, she could not hold back a shriek. He was slumped over in his seat, eyes closed and head dangling. She could feel her own heart still for a moment. “Viserys!” She shook him. “Viserys!”  She looked around desperately. “Get a maester here now!”

Alicent’s sight was blurry as she followed the men that carried her husband to one of the waiting carriages, a young maester walking swiftly by their side. When she went to enter the carriage after them, she was held back by her father. “Let them go. We will take another.”

She let the tears flow freely as she sat down opposite him. Please, Gods, don’t let him die. Not now. Not yet. Her children were too young. They were not ready. Alicent was not ready. She was not ready to be alone.

Her lips were moving in a silent prayer even as they reached the Red Keep and she rushed out to run to her husband’s chambers.

The Grand Maester was already there when she arrived and would not allow her in. “Your Grace, you must allow for a proper examination. There is nought you can do to help now. Let us work in peace.”

She wished to scream at him. She wished to rage. She wished to do any number of things but she had no strength left so she nodded dumbly and stayed in front of the closed door to her husband’s bedchamber, staring at it with unseeing eyes.

Her father came up behind her, put a hand on her shoulder, and tried to lead her to a seat but she would not move. She could not move without knowing. She needed to know.

When the Grand Maester emerged again and beckoned her in with a slight smile, her knees gave out under her and she would have crumbled to the ground in relief had her father not caught her. She could see the lips of the Grand Maester moving but she heard not a word, attention entirely captured by her husband sitting propped up on the bed, face haggard but with eyes open.

A fresh wave of tears hit her as she rushed to his side. She took his hand into her hands and kissed the back of it, sinking to her knees by the bed and thanking the Gods for hearing out her prayers. He raised a weak hand to caress her cheek and fought to give her a smile. His eyes were exhausted.

She stayed with him, her face pressed into the hand she kept in her hold until he finally fell into a natural sleep, his breaths even at last. When she rose, she straightened her dress and wiped her cheeks. Then, she took a deep breath in, let it out slowly, and left the bedchamber with her back straight and head held high.

Her father and Lord Commander of the Kingsguard waited for her in the main chamber, faces worried and she smiled at them to reassure them. “The king is better. He has now fallen asleep.”

Her father nor the Lord Commander looked reassured and Alicent faltered. Could something else have happened while she was with her husband?

Ser Harrold opened his mouth to speak but her father spoke first. “It seems that Aegon is missing.”

She took an instinctive step back and laid a hand on her breast. “No.” Her head was shaking. “No. This cannot be true.”

Ser Harrold finally spoke. “When Prince Daemon and I came upon the fighting children, only Princes Aemond, Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey along with Princess Helaena were present and all of them were escorted to the Red Keep safely.” He shook his head. “Prince Daemon ordered all of the princes and their chambers searched for live steel to be given into the care of the Master-at-Arms until they are deemed ready to wield them. When we did that, it came to light that Prince Aegon is not in the Keep unlike what was assumed.”

Alicent could not believe her ears. Her son. Her boy. Her mind was spinning. “Ser Erryk. Ser Erryk guards him the most. Surely he knows where my son is.”

“I have already spoken to him.” Alicent closed her eyes in pain at the Lord Commander’s reply and she had to put out a hand to steady herself.

“A search has to be organized then. We have the City Watch. Let every one of them search!”

“Alicent, be reasonable! No one knows that Aegon is missing now. If we do that, everyone will know. We might put him in danger unnecessarily.” Her father’s voice rang with disapproval.

She could not breathe. Her head was suddenly light and her ears were ringing. Fresh tears were running down her face. “We can’t do nothing!”

Her father approached her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Alicent, you must pull yourself together. We will not do nothing. A search will be done by the Kingsguard and loyal members of my guard. None of our enemies will know that Aegon is not in the Keep this way.”

She took a shuddering breath and looked into her father’s eyes, lost.

Then, she turned to look at the door to her husband’s bedchamber and when her gaze returned to her father, she was resolved. “The king must not be disturbed by anyone. Let it be known that he is better now but remains abed. He must not be told.”

She wiped her cheeks again. “Let it also be known that I have already retired for the evening and will accept no disturbances. If there is any news, I will be awaiting it in the sept.”

She left them in her husband’s chambers and walked to the sept with her shoulders straight and breaths even.

She lit a candle in front of each of the seven aspects, saying a prayer to each. Once done, she returned to the altar before the statue of the Mother Above and collapsed to her knees.

She hugged herself around the middle and sang softly to herself as she rocked.

“The Father's face is stern and strong,

he sits and judges right from wrong.

He weighs our lives, the short and long,

and loves the little children.”

Her children’s father lay abed, her eldest son missing.

“The Mother gives the gift of life,

and watches over every wife.

Her gentle smile ends all strife,

and she loves her little children.”

She gave her children the gift of life but she could not ensure they got to keep it.

“The Warrior stands before the foe,

protecting us where e'er we go.

With sword and shield and spear and bow,

he guards the little children.”

There was no warrior to protect her son now, alone somewhere in the city full of sin and violence.

“The Crone is very wise and old,

and sees our fates as they unfold.

She lifts her lamp of shining gold

to lead the little children.”

Oh Gods, please lead her son back to her.

Her voice faltered and she cried again.

When the light of dawn came upon the sept, Alicent was still on her knees, praying.

Chapter Text

Daemon watched Laena’s agitated pacing with some confusion. He hardly even understood what was going on in their family. He believed he understood Rhaenyra at least but her stealing one of their nursemaids was decidedly odd.

There were mayhaps no more loyal members of Rhaenyra’s household than the princes’ nurses and they surely needed to be. When Daemon and Rhaenyra had been married and lived on Dragonstone, no maid would be trusted into the princes’ presence unless their loyalties had been previously confirmed by him.

Mayhaps that was the reasoning for this action even now. A nurse employed by Daemon would surely have no loyalty to the Greens. Still, to do so after the insult of last evening and without asking… He could not even begin to guess as what was going through her head.

As he looked at his wife, he could not help but wonder. He rose from his seat and stopped Laena with hands on her shoulders and embraced her from behind. “I can try to talk some reason into her if you wish.”

He could see her frowning and chewing on her lip as she contemplated his offer, clearly at war with herself. He used the opportunity to drop a kiss on the side of her neck. The tension in her shoulders lessened and she leaned back into him. “I don’t even know. What if that is what her aim is?”

He laughed. “To speak with me? I doubt our last talk left her wishing for more.”

Her frown was back and she turned her face to him. “Your last talk?”

Daemon blinked. Had he not mentioned it? He opened his mouth to answer but was spared by a knocking on the door. He called out instead. “What is it?”

“Ser Luthor Largent to see you, my prince.”

He released his wife and took a step back. “Let him in!”

“My prince, my lady.” Ser Luthor bowed his head as he entered, his expression grave. “My prince, if you could accompany me. There is something you should see.”

Daemon frowned and looked to his wife and back to the knight. “Can it wait?”

The captain hesitated before he answered carefully. “I believe it would be for the best if it did not.”

He rubbed his face with a sigh. “Very well.”

His wife looked at him with concern as he belted Dark Sister on, her arms folded. He smiled at her before leaving, stepping up to her to kiss her temple. “Let it go for now. We will speak more later.”

Daemon found himself at the tourney grounds yet again. With the tourney over, the pavilions were being brought down, many already gone. The knights they belonged to might have stayed for a night of drinking and celebrations or commiserations but would be moving on soon enough.

A smile came to his face. This encampment appeared chaotic but peaceful, far removed from the chaos of war camps after a battle. If only Daemon and these knights never had to see a war camp again, his actions after his return to life would have served a purpose. His smile widened. Other than his wife and son living, that is. That would have been a purpose enough to Daemon, though likely not to whatever power that had brought him here.

His smile faded to be replaced by a frown as he spotted more gold cloaks awaiting them. He looked to Ser Luthor as they got off their horses. The man remained silent throughout the ride from the Red Keep. “Will you tell me what this is all about now?”

“Come, my prince.”

Daemon stared at his back for a few moments before following once again. He was led away from the stands, past the many wooden shacks used during the tourney, and toward the stables housing the many horses the knights usually brought along.

The stable seemed as it always did with the single exception of the two gold cloaks posted at the entrance to one of the stalls and Daemon was headed for them. When he reached them and saw what the stall contained, he stopped and blinked down in confusion. He turned to Ser Luthor, puzzled.

Why was he brought here? Why did Ser Luthor believe he needed to see the girl?

“The girl was raped.”

And Daemon could tell that well enough by the state of her dress. Why was Ser Luthor even telling him this?

When he turned his head back to the stall and took in more details, he realized what colors the girl wore.

He took measured steps into the stall and crouched down to lift hair from the girl’s face to better look at it.

The girl was wearing the livery of Dragonstone.

A memory rose unbidden and unwanted in Daemon’s mind as he stared at her.

Viserys stood, fighting not to cry as his father bade him to listen to his older brother and promised him that he would return to him soon. A woman held Viserys’ shoulders firmly as he fought to follow his father onto Caraxes.

Daemon had never seen his son again.

The girl had the woman’s face.

His hand rose to cover his mouth as he stared at the face.

When he rose back to his feet, his eyes were still fixed on her. “The girl was a nurse serving in the Princess of Dragonstone’s household.”

Ser Luthor stepped up to his back. “We think he tried to keep her quiet.”

Aye. Daemon assumed as much judging by the dark mark that covered her throat.

The captain seemed to hesitate at Daemon’s silence before he continued in a hushed voice. “There are witnesses that say they saw Prince Aegon leaving here.”

Daemon turned his shocked eyes to meet the knight’s apologetic ones. The boy was thirteen.

He fought to keep his voice calm as he spoke. “Are you sure?”

“There are many that saw him. The prince was seen in the royal box throughout the tourney so the people saw him and they knew him. The prince was seen dragging a girl here. The prince was seen leaving here.”

“Where is he?”

“We do not know.” And they would not search for a prince of the blood unless ordered to do so.

Daemon closed his eyes to collect his thoughts. “Call for the Silent Sisters. I will inform the Princess of Dragonstone and the King.”

As he left the stables behind, he could not help but think. Had Daemon thought to ask after Aegon’s presence the day before, would the girl still be alive?

His steps were slow and slowing as he approached Rhaenyra’s chambers until he stopped just in front of them. The guards were looking at him in askance as he stood there in thought. It took a while before he made himself speak. “Please inform the princess that I need to speak to her sons in private.”

As he was let in, he was greeted to a sight of worn-out Rhaenyra, dark circles under her eyes, a strained smile on her pale face, surrounded by her unhappy sons.

“Uncle, you wish to speak to my sons?”

“Yes. I have some questions for them about what happened yesterday.” He paused as he took her in. “You look tired, niece.”

Her smile widened a fraction before disappearing completely. “Joff would not be settled last night. He cried and screamed for his nurse.” She shook her head in exhausted exasperation. “I have no idea where that girl disappeared to.”

Daemon nodded in understanding. He did.

His eyes settled on Lucerys and he approached him first. As he lowered himself before him, his voice was gentle. “Lucerys, can you tell me when was the last time you saw Aegon?”

Luke blinked at him in confusion before he turned to his equally confused mother, who nodded to him. “When we left the stands yesterday.” His expression darkened and his voice became angry. “He grabbed Anya’s arm and wanted her to go with him! And when Jace shoved him and told him to let her go, Aemond shoved him back!” He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “And then we fought Aemond and you showed up and Aegon was not there.”

Rhaenyra was looking at her son with a deepening frown as he was speaking and then turned her bewildered eyes on Daemon but he was not done yet. “Is there anything else?”

Luke’s eyes were huge as he looked at him. His voice was a whisper. “Jace called Aegon a bastard.”

He laid his hand on Luke’s shoulder and caught his eyes. “Thank you.”

He rose to address Rhaenyra. “I need to speak to you alone.”

Her eyes were wide as she nodded and called for a maid to lead her sons away.

Once they were alone, he spoke in a soft voice. “Your nurse is dead. Aegon did it.”

Her hand shot to her mouth as she gasped. “What?” Her eyes were terrified. He could not truly blame her for that.

Daemon was barred from entry into the king’s chambers.

He stood gaping at Ser Steffon as he was informed of it at the door to them.

A dread pooled in his stomach as his mind went to the time of his brother’s death when the Greens had made every effort to conceal it for days and days on end until the Usurper’s coronation.

He watched the expressions on the faces of the two Kingsguard knights standing between him and the king carefully. “Is the king alive?”

They were taken aback by the question. Daemon closed his eyes and breathed out in relief.

“Very well, then inform him I need to speak to him about Prince Aegon.”

The hated voice of the Hand sounded from a side, coming closer to him. “I assure you that will not be necessary, my prince.” There was a smile on his fucking face as Daemon turned to face him.

“I assure you that it is.” His voice was frigid.

“The king needs his rest. He is not to be disturbed by anyone.”

Daemon wrestled with his mounting fury. “I am his brother.”

The Hand shrugged and remained silent.

He focused on releasing the tension in his shoulders and took a deliberate step closer to Otto fucking Hightower, looking directly into his eyes. “Then I need to speak to Prince Aegon. Now.”

Uncertainty entered the Hand’s eyes. And fear.

Daemon pulled back in surprise and laughed in disbelief.

“You don’t know where he is.”

Chapter Text

The dawn came and went long ago by the time Alicent rose from her knees. No one came to find her in the night and no one came to her in the morn, only the knights of the Kingsguard changing their places as they stood guard over her.

She had prayed and prayed and the Gods provided her no answers. She had believed her father and he had no news to give. Aegon, her poor boy, her innocent babe, was still alone and gone and surely scared. A strangled sob escaped her. If he even lived still.

No, the Gods and her father proved to be of no help to her. If they could not help then surely they could not hold it against Alicent if she were to seek it elsewhere.

She did not bother wiping her face or straightening her clothes or hair as she left the sept with her head held high once again.

Her steps took her unerringly to the chambers of the Rogue Prince. She had known the way for many years, yet this would be only the second time she would take it. Only the second time she would enter the dragon’s lair.

As she came upon the chambers, she was startled to see guards posted there. Never before had the prince employed guards at his door. All at court knew that he abhorred the very idea of being guarded ever since his grandfather had set guards on him to ensure his marriage.

The guards were startled in turn to see the queen in such a state, she was sure. Still, she raised her chin as she ordered them to announce her visit to the prince.

“The prince is not here, Your Grace.”

Alicent faltered and her breath left her. Why wasn’t he there? She needed him!

She stood there at a loss, blinking and feeling the fool. She had put all her hope into this and now she could not even find him. Her father would not let her try again once he came to learn of her attempt. She bit on her lip and started to fidget with her fingers as her mind churned.

She stared at the door dumbly. She could request to wait for him inside. She was the queen. She was a married woman. She could wait for the Rogue Prince inside his chambers.

Her legs would not move. Her gaze dropped to stare at her skirts as she felt a flush rise on her face. It was years in the past and she could still not make herself move. Her son may be dead or dying and she could still not bring herself to enter the prince’s chambers uninvited. Not again.

She closed her eyes and took a slow breath in. She counted in her head and then slowly breathed out. She kept her eyes closed and tried to focus on the sounds around her.

There was the sound of her breathing. The guards and Ser Willis breathed too, the sounds much much softer than her own loud ones. There was the softest clanking of mail as one or the other of the armed men shifted slightly. There were hurried footsteps coming closer.

Her eyes snapped open.

The prince rounded a corner and she breathed in relief.

His steps slowed and then stopped as he saw her. His face was puzzled as he stood looking at her.

“The queen wishes to speak with you, my prince.”

It was one of the guards that spoke and Alicent was grateful for it. The prince did not look like to speak and her own tongue was tied in knots in her mouth.

He blinked and a frown flashed across his face before he inclined his head to her. “Good-sister.”

She smiled. “Good-brother.”

He seemed to wait for something. When nothing came, he took a few cautious steps closer to the door leading to his chambers. “Would you like to speak inside?”

Her eyes shined with gratitude. “Yes, thank you, good-brother.”

He led the way inside and Alicent fortified herself before stepping through after him.

She was left blinking in confusion as she entered. The chambers looked little as they once had. Colors and fabrics everywhere, one could hardly even believe them the same chambers as the coldly stern ones she had visited so long ago.

He was standing by a table, waiting for her as she stood near the entrance and just looked around herself in bewilderment. There was a spark of amusement in his eyes as her gaze caught on him in her inspection and she could feel color rising in her cheeks again.

He raised his eyebrows at her. “I believe you wished to speak, good-sister?” He motioned to a seat.

“Yes. Yes, I did.” Her feet moved and she took a seat she was offered, gaze pointed at the table. “Aegon is lost.”

He let out a sigh. “I know.”

Her gaze snapped up to him. He was rubbing his face. “I just spoke to your father. He would not say so but it was quite clear when I requested to speak to him.”

Her eyes were round as she listened. “What did you need to talk to Aegon about?”

The prince grimaced and looked away from her. “There was a matter concerning him that the gold cloaks made me aware of.”

“What matter?” His gaze returned to her, examining her sharply. A long moment of silence stretched between them before he spoke again.

“He raped and killed a girl at the tourney yesterday. The girl was one of Rhaenyra’s nursemaids.”

A hand flew to her mouth as she gasped. “No.” As tears rolled down her cheeks again, she wished she could convince herself of it. There was something like pity in his eyes.

She spoke through the tears. “Aegon did not return to the Red Keep after the tourney. They saw to the places he is known to frequent but they did not find him. They looked through the night but there was no news.” She kept her eyes on his. “I need to know that he is safe.”

“And what then?”

She frowned. What then? “I don’t catch your meaning.”

“What then? The boy killed a girl he forced himself on. Will you let him receive his just punishment? Or any punishment at all?”

There was anger in his voice and Alicent could well understand that. But what was she to do? As much as she might agree that the crime could not go unpunished, her father and her husband would never allow for it.

He reached for her fidgeting hands and held them, his voice kind. He had never touched her before. “You do realize that he is to marry your daughter, don’t you?”

Her quiet tears turned to ugly sobs then.

Her sweet Helaena.

She would have to bear it as Alicent herself did. The marriage bed and the birthing bed the two duties every wife had to bear. And in return for fulfilling those duties, she would be protected. Whatever else may be true of Viserys, he had protected Alicent and her children. She was not so sure Aegon had it in him to protect anyone.

“Please, I just need to know that he is alive.”

He let out a heavy sigh. “I was going to look for him anyway.” He paused and let her hands go. She missed the warmth already. “I need to see to Sunfyre first.”

That shocked her out of her crying and she looked at him, startled. “Sunfyre?”

The prince cocked his head and raised his brows in amusement. “Sunfyre, Aegon’s dragon. His state could inform us of Aegon’s.”

A hope rose in her chest. Yes. Aegon’s dragon. Surely, if he were injured or worse, the dragon would know.

She cursed herself for a fool. Had she realized that, she could have spent the night with the dragon, knowing, instead of praying and hoping uselessly.

“I will go with you.”

The look he gave her clearly spoke what he thought of it. “I would prefer it if you did not.”

Steel returned to her spine as she got up. “I will go with you.”

His expression was full of exasperation. “Then dress for riding and dress quickly. I am not waiting for that cursed monstrosity you call a carriage.”

He was rubbing his face again when she exited his chambers, near running to her own to get changed.

She did not even remember when was the last time she had to dress for riding but surely there would be something.

She splashed her face with cool water to finally wash away the many tears she had shed and bound her hair with a tie herself while her maids looked for a riding habit.

When she stood in front of the prince’s chambers again, she felt a different person entirely.

He gave her a nod as he joined her in the corridor and took off, Alicent and Ser Willis following him without words.

As they rode out of the Red Keep and into the streets with no cage to separate her from them, she felt a lady again, not a queen. Despite everything, she smiled.

There was a disquiet among the dragonkeepers as they arrived at the Dragonpit. They surely would not have expected the queen and the Rogue Prince to arrive that day and surely not together.

The disquiet only intensified when they got off their horses and the prince did not even wait for a greeting before speaking. “We came to see Sunfyre. Bring us to him.”

As they were led to the cavern Sunfyre claimed as his own, the true reason for the disquiet became quite clear. The cavern was empty.

“When did Prince Aegon come here?” The prince’s voice rang loudly in the emptiness.

The dragonkeeper shook his head. “We did not see Prince Aegon, my prince. When the time for morning feeding came, we found Sunfyre gone.”

The Rogue Prince was annoyance personified. “When was the last time you saw Sunfyre then?”

“The last watch passed the pen in the hour of the wolf, my prince.”

The prince cursed under his breath.

Alicent took a hesitant step into the cavern and then another and another. She stood in the low light and stared at the chains on the ground. Her gaze rose and she looked around the cavern in bewilderment.

Aegon was gone.

Aegon was alive.

Aegon was safe.

Alicent felt one of the chains inside her snap. Her son was gone and out of the reach of both Rhaenyra and her father.

She brought her hand to her breast and fought against tears of relief.

Her son was free.

Chapter Text

The hidden cove had grown quite crowded now as Seasmoke joined his brethren.

Laenor lay in the sand, Laena’s head rested on his stomach, both staring at the clouds while Daemon paced. Rhaenys and Corlys sat by their children, Rhaenys’ fingers running through her daughter’s hair. All of the recent happenings were taking their toll on her poor girl.

“I can’t believe he ran away.” It was Laena’s voice but they all thought it.

“I wonder where he meant to go. A well-traveled dragonrider would have trouble navigating in the darkness.” Laenor’s voice was pensive.

Daemon snorted. “That, he is not. I doubt he even knows how to read a map properly. Or, more importantly, forage for food. He is either going to starve or get himself killed. He is a fucking moron. He was in no danger at all here. Viserys would never allow anything to come of it.” He paused in his pacing with a smirk. “At least, there was no way for him to know he was in danger. I might have strangled him myself if I were to come across him.”

Rhaenys rolled her eyes at her cousin’s theatrics. Daemon would not have strangled him and all of them knew it. He might have threatened him, scared the daylights out of him but he would not have killed him. Not for this. Not yet.

He stopped entirely with a frown. “My good-sister was curiously at peace with it. She was nowhere near as distraught as when it was assumed he was somewhere in the city.” His frown deepened as he looked to the sky. “She was not distraught at all as far as I could tell.”

“How did the king react to the news?” Corlys spoke the question on her tongue.

Daemon snorted again. “They are not going to tell him.”

Her husband laughed. “How can they not tell him? The whole court will have heard by now.”

An eye-roll was Daemon’s chosen reply. “The king is poorly. Poorly enough that they fear the news would worsen his condition.” A grimace followed. “And he may return yet. It has been just a day.”

“So they fear the king might die? That would be unfortunate with their runaway heir.” Corlys spoke Rhaenys’ mind yet again, though she would have spoken less wryly. After so long together it was not a rare thing for them to think alike.

“It’s a fucking mess.” Daemon was rubbing his face. “It reminds me too much of the last years of Viserys’ reign. He unaware and isolated and the Hightowers ruling in his name.”

Rhaenys could feel her husband tense by her side and she well understood why. “This was to go on for years?”

Her cousin nodded and she restrained herself from yelling at him, speaking through gritted teeth instead. “You failed to mention that before, cousin.”

Daemon gave her a startled look, most likely surprised at her tone rather than the words. “What does it matter?”

She got up exasperated with her cousin. “It matters because that is not how the Targaryen rule of Westeros works. You know why the Conqueror managed to unite these kingdoms when no one before ever did.” As his lips pulled back in a smirk, she gave him a stern glare. “And do not say dragons.”

Her cousin rolled his eyes and resumed his pacing, tone mutinous. “Because we are outsiders. We do not hold with any of the sides of the old conflicts.”

“Exactly. If the Hightowers all but ruled the kingdoms for years on end, they surely must have put forth policies that favored the Reach or even Oldtown specifically above all others or interests of the Iron Throne.” If Oldtown was to be favored over Highgarden, if Hightowers were to hold more power in the Reach than Tyrells, surely it would not be difficult to turn them to their side?

Daemon spun around and laughed in her face. “You think they have not been doing that for years already? Why do you think your husband and I were left to toil in the Stepstones alone when it was clearly in the interest of the throne to have them secure?”

Laena and Laenor were looking up at them as Daemon stepped up entirely too close to her. “They hoped to humble House Velaryon. Corlys rose too high, held too many ships and too much gold. The Hightowers were used to being the second richest House in Westeros but your husband dared to overtake them.” He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Oh, the blasphemy.”

“And when Viserys died, those ships not lost in the Stepstones burned, the gold was pillaged and House Velaryon all but beggared.” There was tiredness to her husband’s voice she was ill-accustomed to. “I have no intention to lose all that I have built to your brother’s folly. The Stepstones cost me enough.”

“You were not alone in paying the price.” Daemon’s voice was cold.

Her husband was suddenly laughing. “Oh, was my daughter not a compensation enough?”

Laena raised herself on her elbows, now frowning. Daemon was chuckling. “That was not the price for the Stepstones, old man.” He had to dance away from the reach of his wife’s kick.

She wondered what that was supposed to mean. After Daemon killed Laena’s betrothed in a duel, Corlys agreed to the marriage only in recognition of his assistance in the war in the Steps.

As much as she loved her cousin, as much as she might have wished for them to marry once, he had been hardly the most desirable suitor a parent might wish for their only daughter at the time they had married. Even accounting for Laena’s age and the manner of death of her despicable betrothed, Daemon’s suit might have still been refused by her husband.

Looking at them now, she knew it would have been the wrong decision. It would have been the wrong decision even if they did not mean to make Daemon the king and Laena his queen. They were happy. They were happy together in a way she had not known either to be even capable of. It still sometimes brought tears to her eyes to see her daughter so.

Rhaenys shook her head with a laugh. “It seems we have gone away from the matter at hand, cousin.”

Daemon’s shrug and boyish grin were unrepentant. “Just a bit, cousin.”

Her laugh was entirely exasperated. “Regardless, if Viserys’ health does not allow him to rule now and we know it will only get worse in the future, it should not be too difficult a task to declare a regency, should it?”

Daemon was looking at her curiously. “And pray tell, cousin, what reason has the Hand, who speaks with the King’s voice, to call for regency now when it may cost him his power?”

She folded her hands behind her back and started pacing herself. “Let us say that a Great Council of Lords is called to address the issue. I wonder what motivation the Hightowers might have to support the calling of such.” The look she gave him was innocently wide-eyed.

Her cousin was deep in thought. “If the regency is declared, it would only make sense for the heir to be the regent if they are of age. Which Rhaenyra is. The last thing the Hand would want is to hand over power to her sooner.”

Her smile was victorious. “Which is why the succession would need to be confirmed by the Council first.”

Daemon’s stare was unimpressed. “You mean to call the Great Council now, long before we planned.”

It was her turn to shrug with a grin. They might have been blind to it since they had withdrawn from the court but the others had not. “It is as you said, cousin. The Hightowers have ruled from behind the Iron Throne for years now, promoting their own interests. There will be many lords with any number of grievances, small or big. We merely need to remind them that there indeed is a claimant that does meet the tradition of impartiality.” The lords’ own self-interest should guide them well enough.

“Rhaenyra-”

Her snort interrupted him. “How unfortunate that it is a tradition to hold Great Councils at Harrenhal, the seat of House Strong. The bastardy of Rhaenyra’s children is mere slander in the minds of many. Hold the council at Harrenhal and it will be indisputable.” Her eyes landed on her son. There were other ways to ensure it as well but Daemon need not hear them now.

He was frowning at her still, lips tight.

“All this talk of Great Council... Does it mean I have to visit great-uncle again? I’d rather not.” Laenor’s voice was horrified.

As Rhaenys met Daemon’s eyes, they burst out laughing. Their uncle had a way with people.

Chapter Text

Laena giggled as he unlocked the door of their bedchamber and he looked back at her with brows raised. She stifled her giggles but remained grinning. “I wonder what the servants think we do so much behind the locked doors.” Her eyes were wide and innocent and had him tempted to lock the door back immediately.

A wolfish grin stretched his lips only to be thwarted by the banging on the door of the outer chamber. He cursed his luck instead. “What is it?” There was no small dose of irritation in his voice. He was growing increasingly hostile to interruptions, he found.

Daemon swore as he was informed that his presence was required at a session of the Small Council called by the Hand. He thumped his head against the door. He would have to go and get Corlys. There was no way to know whether he received the message since they parted ways in the tunnels. A locked bedchamber door might not be uncommon for a husband and wife but having the wife’s parents and brother present as well would certainly raise some eyebrows.

The Grand Maester was not yet present in the council chamber when Daemon and Corlys arrived but the Hand and the Lord Commander were already waiting in their seats, old Beesbury just seating himself. He gave them an all-encompassing nod before sitting down as well.

By the time Mellos finally arrived, breathing heavily, the Hand had grown agitated and was frowning at the table. His presence seemed to lessen the tension in the Hand’s posture and Daemon was eager to put an end to that.

“Is the King not joining us?” The question was entirely innocent.

The Hand, the Grand Maester, and the Lord Commander were all giving him startled looks. It was Otto Hightower that broke the spell by speaking. “The King is not well enough to attend this meeting.”

“Then shouldn’t his heir be present in his place?” He bit down on an emerging grin as he received a heated glare from the Hand.

The Grand Maester shifted uncomfortably. The Lord Commander frowned thoughtfully. It came to the old Beesbury to voice an agreement. “Why, yes, you are quite right, my prince. If the King is unable to attend and his heir is in the Red Keep, then the heir should be present.” He turned to the Hand himself. “Did Princess Rhaenyra absent herself?”

The heated glare shifted to the Master of Coin. “No, only the council members were invited.”

Daemon let the corners of his lips upturn. “Quite an oversight, my lord Hand.” He started rising from his seat. “Let me send a message to her, I am sure she will not mind joining us.”

“You can sit down, my prince. The meeting will not be that long.” Annoyance suited the Hand’s voice quite nicely in his opinion.

Daemon’s brows jumped up but he did sit with a gracious smile. “Oh? Let us get on with it then.” He was benevolence itself.

“As you are all doubtless aware, Prince Aegon is missing. Dragonriders need to fly out and search for him.”

Daemon could not help the laugh that escaped him at the words. “And maybe lord Hand would like to also educate said dragonriders on how to determine where to fly when the one to be pursued left under the cover of darkness in an unknown direction and has Gods-only-know how many hours of a lead on them?”

He leaned forward in his seat, his hands folded on the table and looking into the Hand’s eyes with innocent expectation. The darkening of good Ser Otto’s glower was the only response he got.

He leaned back in the chair and folded his arms across his chest with a frown instead. “I would also like to remind lord Hand that only the King has the authority to command the dragons. Pray tell, has he finally been informed that his son is missing?”

The Hand’s shifting was all the answer Daemon needed. “King Viserys is not well enough to receive such distressing news.” It was the Grand Maester to respond in his place and so Daemon spoke his next question to him. “And what if the Triarchy decides to attack King’s Landing on the morrow? Would the King be well enough for that news? Would he be fit to command the dragons?”

The Hand coughed. “Let us not make wild assumptions.”

Daemon gave him a cold smile. “The Triarchy is known for their treachery. If they were to learn of the King’s illness who is to say that they would not attack seeing advantage?”

The Hand smiled at him in amusement. “Then it is a good thing that we have you here, my prince, for you are doubtless well-versed in fighting the Triarchy.”

Daemon’s smile turned colder still. “My lord Hand forgets that both Lord Corlys and I signed a peace treaty with the Three Whores. The King might be most wroth with us if we were to take any action against them without his explicit orders.”

He turned his attention to the rest of the council. “I truly must insist that the Princess of Dragonstone be present for any meetings of the Small Council King Viserys is unable to attend during his illness.”

Beesbury was nodding eagerly. “Yes, the prince is quite right. In the absence of the King, his heir should be present to speak with his voice.”

“The Hand speaks with the voice of the King, my lord Beesbury.” There was a quiet fury to the Hands voice now.

“But only in the matters the King entrusted him to. The heir will take over for the King in all matters one day, my lord Hand. It is only right that it happens in the times when the King’s wisdom is unavailable to us.” The Hand seemed ready to spit venom at Daemon’s words.

It was with great reluctance that Mellos voiced his thoughts on the matter. “The prince does raise some valid points, my lord.”

“I would say that he speaks plain truth, Grand Maester. The King’s heir, the Princess of Dragonstone should be present to speak for the King.” The censure in the voice of Lord Commander Westerling was plain to hear. He had proven himself a true gift from the Gods recently.

His good-father was nodding in thought as well, a slight smile in place. “Indeed, I think all of the King’s subjects would be reassured to know that the heir is well capable of handling all the matters of these kingdoms when called upon.”

The Hand’s smile was very tight at finding himself so outnumbered. “Very well, I will be sure to inform the princess of the next council session, if the King is not recovered by then.”

“Please, do. And do not forget to inform her of all the matters the King should be aware of but you think to spare him the strain of as well, my dear lord Hand.” If looks could kill, Daemon’s funeral pyre would have burned to ashes long ago.

“Thank you all for your presence today.” The Hand dismissed them all with a strained voice.

And yet when Daemon went to rise from his seat to leave, his voice forestalled him. “Just a moment, my prince.”

He could hardly believe that the Hand wished to exchange more words with him but he halted regardless and turned to face the hated man.

“I understand that you were distracted from your tasks as the Master of Laws first with your injury and then with all the excitement around the tourney but there are some laws that have been waiting to be entered into the Book of Laws for some time. That is the responsibility of the Master of Laws unless I am gravely mistaken.” Condescension was plain enough.

“And this occurred to you now.” Daemon kept both his voice and face even but his hackles were raised.

A more deceitful smile had Daemon never seen. “The Hand’s work is never done.”

“I will see to it.”

The Hand raised his brows in amusement. “Shall I have them delivered to your chambers? You might not remember the way to the Master of Laws’ offices.”

Daemon’s smile in return was thin. “That will not be necessary.”

He would go there directly and find out what it was that the Hand wished to entrap him with.

Chapter Text

It was well after dark when Daemon started to consider that mayhaps the Hand merely wished to waste his time. Or ruin his eyesight, he thought as he rubbed his tired eyes, his head aching.

There were all of five laws that waited to be recorded and yet despite going over four of them already, he could see no change in them. All of them said exactly what he remembered the previous version saying. Even when comparing them to the ones already in the Book of Laws word by word, there was no change. He checked. Multiple times, word by fucking word.

His second reading of the final law was done and it was shaping up to be the same waste of time as all the previous ones had been. He promised himself he would not do more than two word-by-word comparisons on this one. He did need to sleep. Desperately so by now.

He blinked in disbelief when his eyes finally caught on a change. A change in a single word. Surely, this was a fucking jest. Having finished the first round of his now well-tried word-by-fucking-word comparison, he did a second one straight away and with surprising speed, fueled by his ire.

Hours. He had just wasted fucking hours of his time going over five laws of which all of one contained a change. A word! A single fucking word!

Daemon’s fists tightened imagining the Hand’s neck in his hands. He was going to kill him slowly and very painfully.

He closed his eyes and forced himself to take a calming breath. And then another. And another.

He reminded himself that it was too soon to go murdering anyone, much less the Hand of the King.

He strode to the door on his way to seek his bed and was halfway through it when he stopped. His head turned back to look at the papers and he frowned.

It was most curious. It was a lot of effort to go to to make him waste his time when the Hand had expressed a wish to have him looking for his grandson just before speaking of the damned laws. This was no dig arranged at the last moment. This had to be prepared in advance. What was the point?

His steps led him back to the table and his eyes landed on the law that contained the change. Inheritance law. One word could not make much difference, could it?

He sat back down with a curse. He would not let a fucking Hightower make a fool of him.

The changed word was recorded. It was changed to registered. That was basically no change at all.

Only the offspring of a valid recorded union would be considered for the purposes of inheritance.

Only the offspring of a valid registered union would be considered for the purposes of inheritance.

The word nagged at him.

There was no issue with it. The maesters or heads of Houses or households recorded marriages in a myriad of ways all over the Seven Kingdoms. The Citadel surely kept a record of all noble marriages too. However… The part that was amended did not speak of inheritance law as relating to the progeny of noble marriages. No, it spoke of the rules as they apply to all the subjects of the Seven Kingdoms.

There was only one institution in all of Westeros that Daemon knew of that kept track of marriages of all and sundry. A registry of them, one could say.

Every sept contained books upon books of all marriages performed in them. Every book in every sept followed the same form of record keeping since the time before the Conquest. Noble, merchant, or peasant, all were recorded, their names oft finding themselves on the same pages.

Daemon’s own name was recorded in one such book, forever connected to that of Rhea Royce, his name signed there after the damnable ceremony by his own father in his place.

His marriage to Laena was performed in the Valyrian tradition and was therefore not registered, only the maester at Driftmark making a note into the Velaryon book of births, marriages, and deaths.

Would this change mean that his own children would be considered illegitimate for the purposes of inheritance? He could not remember such a change in the law occurring in his first life. It was such a subtle change but surely it would have come to light in the nine more years he had lived?

Daemon swore most foully and went in search of marriage laws.

Fleabottom was not a place one would visit gladly at the best of times. In the pre-dawn hours and in a black mood already was not the best of times and yet Daemon found himself there, alone and banging on the door of a rundown sept.

The marriage law made a clear distinction between use and definition of a recorded and a registered union. All marriages conducted in a sept were considered both recorded and registered. However, it would seem that marriages performed outside of it could be considered registered as well under certain circumstances and Daemon meant to confirm them.

The sleepy and irritated septon that answered the door may have not expected to be nearly bowled over by an enraged prince but such is life. Full of unpleasant surprises. 

“I wish to speak to you about your marriage registry.”

The septon did not bother covering his yawn. “Then I suggest you return in the morn, good ser.”

Daemon laughed. “It is morn.”

The good septon was running out of patience quickly, his glare threatening. “Leave now or I will have to call for the Watch to deal with you.”

He took off his cape, uncovering his pale hair with a mocking smile. “Please, do. I am sure it will make things go faster.”

The man must have not been sufficiently awake for he did call out and so they waited for the gold cloaks to appear, the septon’s triumphant grin and Daemon’s amusement growing the closer their footsteps got.

The gold cloaks barged into the sept, cudgels drawn and ready and Daemon could no longer contain his amusement. All eyes were on him as he laughed and laughed. The septon clearly believing his wits gone completely started to turn purple in his aggravation.

The watchman in the lead spoke with some hesitation. “Do you require some assistance, my prince?”

The septon’s mouth fell open and he barely resisted falling into a fresh round of laughter. “No need, good men. This man of the Faith was merely confused. He did just wake up, you know.” He turned to the septon innocently. “Or do you wish for them to stay?”

The glare he was given turned into a look of resignation rather quickly. The man sighed. “I apologize for causing needless alarm.”

The watchmen accepted the apology with grace and bowed to Daemon before leaving, which he reciprocated with a dignified nod of his head and a genuine smile. It was so gratifying to see the Watch working as it should, coming to the aid of those in need even in Fleabottom.

He kept his smile firmly in place as he turned back to the paling septon. “Now, about that marriage registry of yours.”

“What is it that my prince wishes to know?”

Daemon’s smile stretched. “It is my understanding that it is possible to register one’s marriage even when one does not marry in a sept. How does that work?”

The septon looked at him doubtfully. “And you require this knowledge now?”

At Daemon’s determined nod, he rubbed his face and went deeper into the sept. “When one wishes to register a marriage that was conducted in a different tradition, the husband and wife need to come to a sept and swear before the Seven that they are indeed a husband and wife and sign the registry.”

Daemon was frowning. “And that is all?” Swearing before the Seven might be offensive to those not of the Faith but not the kind of insurmountable barrier that he had expected.

“There is also a fee.”

“A fee?” Things were starting to make sense now. “What kind of fee?”

The septon frowned as well, his lips tight, clearly unhappy about something other than Daemon for a change. “A golden dragon. It was raised recently.”

That was not too bad. However, it did raise the question of what the use was. It would hardly stop Daemon or any other noble from registering their marriage in a sept if truly needed.

“Say, how recently was it raised?”

“A little less than a fortnight? At least that’s when the news reached us in King’s Landing.”

A blink. “News from where?”

“The Starry Sept in Oldtown, the seat of the High Septon?”

Daemon kept blinking in confusion, trying to make sense of it all.

When nothing came to him, he turned his gaze to the ceiling and thought on it some more. His head ached quite a bit by now. “What if I was somewhere far away from a sept? How would I register a marriage then?”

It was the septon’s turn to be bewildered. “You would not. One needs to visit a sept to sign the registry.”

“How about a stand-in then? Marriages can be conducted through a seal.”

Vigorous headshake put a stop to that. “No. A stand-in can sign the registry if the marriage is conducted in a sept. If it is not done in the light of the Seven, the vow needs to be spoken and the registry has to be signed in person.”

The daring was impressive if nought else. They certainly had not dared to do anything quite so audacious before.

This was not aimed at Daemon or the Valyrian Houses at all.

“What was the fee before?”

“A copper star.” Daemon’s brows jumped up. More than a thousandfold increase. No wonder the septon had been unhappy about it.

“I find myself quite curious now. Is there a fee when one marries in a sept?”

The septon looked affronted. “Of course not! The faithful make whatever offering to the Gods they wish.”

Dawn was breaking by the time Daemon returned to his chambers in the Red Keep. He started tearing his clothes off as soon as he stepped into the bedchamber, not even chancing a look towards the bed to avoid the temptation of sleep. He grabbed his riding leathers with more aggression than strictly necessary to pull them on.

“Why are you dressing for flying?”

He spun around to find Laena sitting on the ground by the bed, head resting against its side, face pale and tired. He crouched next to her, worried. “Are you unwell?”

She raised a pale brow over her eyes rimmed by dark circles. “You just returned after being gone the whole night. Why are you dressing for flying?”

He bit on the inside of his cheek, not the least bit reassured. “I need to attend to some matters. I should not be gone more than a sennight.”

Her voice and expression were horrified. “A sennight?”

He nodded. “I will send you a raven once at Winterfell.” It should be no more than three days of flight there, two if he missed another night of sleep. Hopefully, he would need not remain for long.

There was a fire in her eyes. “Winterfell? Daemon, are you insane?” Her sharp voice pierced his skull and his head throbbed in pain. Mayhaps he was.

Chapter Text

To say Laena had been unhappy with him would have been overly generous yet she had still insisted on accompanying him to the dragons. She had still let him kiss her breathless. She had still let him rest his forehead against hers for long moments and kiss her breathless again.

For all that Daemon’s fury would have had him fly off on Caraxes immediately, push toward Winterfell without stopping and without slowing, once Laena’s presence had woken him to the present, he had become unwilling to part from her again. Afraid. He had not parted from her for so long yet since she had been returned to him. Or rather he to her.

And yet everything within him had been screaming at him that he had to go. Had to go now, to be on the way, to fly. Ever since he had realized the aim of the change, there was a sense of urgency in him that would not be quieted.

He could not tell Laena why he was to head north. He could not bring himself to tell her. There was a chance Daemon would not be able to stop it. There was a possibility that even if the consequences were to be pointed out to Viserys, were he to recover enough, he would still not listen to Daemon. It was not a small possibility either. Viserys would only ever listen to his lickspittles over Daemon’s advice, much like Rhaenyra eventually had come to. No, Daemon could not be the one to speak out against the change. He could delay it but never stop it.

And he could not bring himself to speak of it to Laena. Laena’s parents and her brother had been wed in a sept and Laena herself had expected it for her own wedding as well. And yet for all that Daemon had desired her, he could not have made himself accept being wed in one again. It had been by his insistence that they had married in the Valyrian tradition and bound their blood together.

He could not let her know that he had failed her in yet another way. Not yet. Not while there was still hope for a way out.

He kissed her again and when he parted from her with regret, he was glad to see color on her cheeks. “You do not know anything more but that I am gone north to attend some matters. Do not mention Winterfell. Do not say how long I will be.” He hesitated. “Apologize to our pests for me.”

When her lips stretched in a soft smile, he placed his fingers under her chin and traced the smile with his thumb before pressing a last quick kiss against it.

“I will be back.” He could not bring himself to say that he would be back soon for he had broken that promise far too many times already.

She smiled at him sadly, her palm warm on his cheek. “You better.”

Then, he finally stepped back and walked through the sand to climb atop waiting Caraxes and ordered him to fly. As they rose into the air and kept gaining height without a sign of Vhagar to follow after them, Caraxes’ eagerness to fly abated. Once the beach disappeared below the clouds, he let out a mournful cry for his companion. Or mayhaps it was just his rider’s feelings he was expressing, Daemon could no longer tell.

Still, the urgency beating within him like a drum was lessened only slightly by finally being on the way so he pressed Caraxes to fly faster. He needed to put as much distance as he could between King’s Landing and himself before the night fell because he felt already that he would not make it through another sleepless night.

For all his haste he only just made it to Fairmarket before the first night fell and he had to take a rest, unable to continue in his tiredness. He took refuge in an inn closest to the town wall, Caraxes just beyond it, and gorged himself on whatever the inn had to offer for food, not even tasting it, the last time he had eaten merely a distant memory by then.

The innkeeper offered him his best room and Daemon gladly took it, though a straw heap or the finest bed mattered to him not at that point as long as he got to sleep in it. And sleep he did even before his head hit the pillow.

In the morn, he broke his fast on bread and cheese and then packed some along with apples and dried meats for the day ahead as well. It was already apparent that the next night’s rest would be at Moat Cailin and that fortress became abandoned and half a ruin since the Conquest. He would spend only the darkest hours of the night there sleeping, continuing on to Winterfell even before dawn came.

The urgency in him had only grown as he traveled, the drumbeat in his head growing louder and louder the closer to his destination he got. As he descended below the clouds sometime around midday in sight of Winterfell, he believed he understood why.

A long stream of riders was leaving the castle and heading north along the Kingsroad.

Somehow, Daemon knew that the Lord of Winterfell was among them. He urged Caraxes to fly faster still. He passed low over the castle and headed for the head of the column, Caraxes crossing its path ahead of it on the road, nearly touching the ground before heading back towards the castle. Daemon had no intention to speak to the Warden of the North in the middle of the road with hundreds of his closest riders watching. He had trust that his gesture would be taken for what it was.

Caraxes circled the castle once, then twice, and then once more before Daemon decided on a place to land. Winterfell was a large enough castle on its own, yet with the town surrounding it, landing Caraxes outside the walls would make things exceedingly impractical. The castle's courtyard would prove less practical still, what with the number of riders doubtless heading back towards it. That left the godswood. Daemon had grown wary of godswoods and heart trees recently and Winterfell’s were some of the oldest. He landed with great reluctance.

After he climbed down, he stood, looking around the clearing he landed in. There was the weirwood standing opposite him, a pool of water thankfully separating them. Caraxes, free of his burden, came to curl himself by the water. When his tail slipped into it, his head came up and when he laid it back down again, his eyes were closed and a contended trill escaped him. Daemon laughed at him. The dragon liked the pool at least.

There were people close enough to call out to him now. “My prince!” There was some gasping involved.

He turned to them in regret, the moment of lightness gone.

“My prince, welcome to Winterfell! We did not expect you to come. We received no word that the King was sending help.”

Help. What help?

Daemon gave the man a thin smile. “Good day, I am here to speak with Lord Stark.”

The man nodded. “Lord Stark rode out. I am his brother, Bennard Stark. I hold Winterfell in his absence.”

The smile turned colder a touch at the name. “I must insist on speaking with Lord Stark.”

The man nodded again. “He is doubtless riding back to the keep already but he was leading the riders. It will be some time before he is back. You can wait for his return in his solar.”

His disquiet having not abated yet despite being in Winterfell already, he had little wish to be restricted to a room. “I will wait for him here. You can inform him of it once he is back.” The words were a dismissal and hopefully, the man would take them for it as Daemon turned away and took a few steps towards the heart tree, keeping a healthy distance between them.

The man remained but a few moments more before leaving Daemon alone.

He regarded the heart tree with suspicion and took a couple of hesitant steps towards it.

His head turned to confirm that he was indeed alone and took a few more.

He bit his lip in frustration and shook his head at himself before walking swiftly around the pool to the ancient weirwood.

Daemon crouched down in front of it, his apprehension at near unbearable levels. He looked at the carved face for the longest time, before reaching out a tentative hand. His fingers brushed the red sap with the lightest of touches.

“This is all your doing, isn’t it?” His voice was barely a whisper.

The feeling of apprehension mounted in him and was then suddenly gone as he heard someone enter the clearing.

Daemon needed not turn his head to know that the Lord of Winterfell had arrived.

Chapter Text

Daemon smirked at the tree as he slowly straightened. Very subtle.

He let out a breath and turned to stroll over to the man who was heading towards him with a smile on his face. “My Lord Stark, I do apologize for dropping by unannounced.”

“Apologies are not necessary, my prince. We are glad for your presence.” That was rather suspicious. People were rarely glad of Daemon’s presence. He cut another mistrustful glance toward the heart tree.

His brow was raised as he spoke to Stark. “Oh? I must admit myself rather surprised to see you and so many riders leaving as I was arriving. I came to speak to you in a rather urgent matter concerning a certain change in a certain law. It would be much appreciated if your maester could join us in your solar. Or we can join him in his study. Either works for me.”

Stark’s brows lowered in a frown. “We are riding for the Gift. There are scores of Wildling bands plaguing it. There can be thousands of them put together. Forgive me if I have little time for some trifling law.” The lord’s voice was quite annoyed.

Daemon’s smile stretched, and his voice was honey. “I assure you it is no trifling change.” He raised his brows in a challenge. “Shall we?”

Stark was glaring at him, but there was a resignation in his face. It was an expression Daemon was well familiar with. “We shall. Follow me, my prince.” It was no small feat to speak the title and make it sound an insult.

He spoke as he walked after Stark. “You may not be aware of this, but I was named to the King’s Small Council as the Master of Laws recently.”

“Congratulations.” The Stark lord sounded ecstatic to be hearing this.

“Thank you.” Daemon had long ago grown immune to sarcasm. He coughed to cover his laugh. “In this role, it is my duty to record any changes made to laws. As such, I came upon a change I believe would be most distressing to you.”

Stark turned his head to frown at him. “Is that so?”

Daemon gave a decisive nod. “Indeed.” And would wonders never cease, it did look to Daemon that he was being led to a Maester’s turret rather than the Lord’s solar. The explanation would go so much easier with books to prove him right close at hand. As he followed Stark into the maester’s study, he was still contemplating the best approach.

The maester was surprised to see them both and started to rise from the seat at his worktable before Daemon waved him down.

“As I was saying, I came upon a change to the inheritance law I believe to be most impractical to the North.”

The maester was looking at him quite horrified and Daemon was fascinated. He had not yet spoken anything that would warrant such a reaction.

Rickon Stark was frowning fiercely. “We received news that there was to be a change in there as we always do, but my maester assures me that it is but a small change in wording.” He gave Daemon a flat stare. “As you might imagine, I was quite busy with other matters to look into it myself.”

Daemon could not stop an incredulous laugh. “There is indeed but a small change in wording. One word, to be exact.”

Stark was looking at him with lips pressed together hard, ready to commit violence, if Daemon was any judge of character, so he elaborated without delay. “A change in a single word that does in fact mean that offspring of any marriage not conducted in a sept would not be considered for the purpose of inheritance.” He turned to the maester with a pleasant smile. A man could hardly be any paler and still draw breath.

There was no eruption from Stark. He was blinking and frowning, previous annoyance gone. “How could one word do that?”

Daemon approached the maester with measured friendliness. “Maester, can you mayhaps provide us the current inheritance and marriage laws?”

The maester for his part looked about ready to faint but scrambled to get the required writings without further prompting. “And the letter informing of the change as well, if you would.” Daemon’s voice was pleasant.

Dark suspicion was painted on Stark’s face as he watched his maester shuffling about in distress. Good. Still, the maester’s reaction to all of this was puzzling. Was he afraid of his incompetence being exposed so?

As the maester shuffled over to them, Stark extended his hand for the letter, face severe. He read it with a frown and then looked at Daemon, perplexed and annoyed again. “Is this a jest?”

He raised a brow and shrugged innocently. “I know not what the letter contains, only what the change is and what it means.” 

The Warden of the North seemed unamused by Daemon’s antics, so he rolled his eyes. “If it says that the word recorded was changed to registered in the text, then no. It is not a fucking jest. And it is not a trifling change, either.” He turned to the pale maester. “Would you care to enlighten Lord Stark what the difference between a recorded union and a registered one is, or shall I?”

The maester was trembling. “A recorded union is any valid union recorded in whatever manner is considered traditional for the area, household or House. A registered one…” The man paused to lick his lips. “A registered union is such that is recorded in the marriage registry.”

Stark was still only frowning and it was causing Daemon a great deal of confusion. Did he not understand the issue? The maester seemed relieved when the lord gave no immediate reaction and breathed a sigh of relief.

That seemed to capture the attention of the lord and his eyes swiveled from the maester to Daemon. “What is a marriage registry?” Ah, that explained that. It only made sense that a Stark would not be aware of the particulars of the Faith’s record keeping.

“Every sept contains a registry of every marriage performed in it. Every man and woman that marry there have their names entered into it and have to sign it after the wedding ceremony. That book, or rather books, are known as the marriage registry.”

Stark’s eyes finally contained signs of fury, but he still fought to maintain an even voice. “Are you telling me that only Southron marriages would be considered valid?”

Daemon weighted his words carefully. “Not exactly. Only the marriages done ‘in the light of the Seven’,” he truly hoped his eye roll was apparent there, “are commonly registered. However, it is possible to register marriages done in different traditions as well, for a fee. Which was recently raised inordinately.”

He frowned and chewed on his lip as he considered whether to add a personal note. “My own marriage to my wife, Lady Laena Velaryon, was done in the Valyrian tradition and children born of it would not be considered for inheritance after us unless we register the marriage with the Faith, swearing before the Seven that we are in fact married. Which we have not done yet, but would be forced to if the law is amended.”

He looked Stark in the eyes for the final part. “The registration has to be done in person in a sept, that cannot be circumvented. And the fee that I mentioned? It was raised from a copper star to a golden dragon only recently.”

The cold fury in the voice of Lord of Winterfell was clear as he turned to the maester. “Is this true?”

The maester had retreated behind his worktable and was trembling in earnest, near tears. “I would not know about the fee.”

“And the rest of it?!” Stark’s voice was a roar.

The man was rubbing his hands agitatedly. “The prince does seem to have the right of it.”

Stark stalked to the maester and his voice was deadly as he loomed over the man. “You said it was just a change in the wording.”

Ugly tears were running down the man’s face as he defended himself. “It was! It was but a word!”

The lord grabbed the maester by his chain, and Daemon was startled to see the man loosen in his grip, held up only by the damn chain. He blinked at the man’s fainting and then barely suppressed laughter as Stark released the chain in apparent disgust and the man crumpled to the floor.

There was fury in Stark’s eyes still when he looked Daemon in the eyes again and he smiled to see it. “I suggest you complain to the King, the King’s Hand, the King’s Council, anyone and everyone you can think of and complain loudly. The King is poorly and does not heed my advice besides.”

The Warden of the North looked at a loss as he rubbed his hands over his face. “I need to ride out to deal with the Wildlings.”

Daemon could not believe his ears. “Then you better decide what is more dangerous. Fucking Wildlings or fucking Andals. I cannot delay the change for fucking moons!” He stalked out of the study and headed for the godswood. He needed fresh air.

He was pacing in front of the heart tree, complaining about what a useless moron the current Lord of Winterfell was to both the tree and Caraxes when said lord came to him again. 

Daemon must have made for an interesting sight, speaking to a fucking tree and a dragon, but he did not particularly care as he glared at the fucking useless Warden of the North. He restrained a snort of derision as he thought of the title. Some Warden.

Still, he folded his hands behind his back and he waited under the canopy of the heart tree to be approached, back straight and head held high.

As Stark joined him, he did not face the prince, he faced the weirwood. “The Gift is overrun with Wildlings. We sent word to the crown requesting they send aid.” He cut his gaze to Daemon. “Dragons. They did not respond, but they sent the change in the law, and you are correct that I must deal with that first.” 

His gaze dropped to the ground with a frown. “But there are too many Wildlings and when they detect a force coming for them, they melt away into the endless countryside only to come together again elsewhere to attack our men. By the time a sufficient force gathers to fight them, they are gone once more. We have no true way of knowing how many of them are there, but it surely must be thousands, and so we gathered a force larger than that. It will still be moons before we hunt all of them down. If we ever do. The holdfasts in the New Gift are long abandoned and maintaining peace there has become near impossible.”

Daemon could no longer contain himself. He snorted and rolled his eyes. “You mean to say that giving a vast portion of land to the order that had not the means to maintain it was not a good idea? How shocking. I assure you, my lord, you need not educate me on my grandmother’s follies. I am intimately familiar with them.”

Stark continued, tone cautiously hopeful. “We held a hope that a dragonrider would be more effective in chasing down the bands when they come together. Certainly faster to respond to attacks. It would help resolve the matter much quicker.”

Daemon was frowning at the tree in thought, something Stark had said catching his attention. He was meant to be gone fighting Wildlings for moons. “How old is your heir?”

The lord looked at him, startled by the unexpected question. “Cregan just passed his thirteenth nameday.”

Rickon Stark was to be gone fighting Wildlings for moons. Cregan Stark was to become the Lord of Winterfell at thirteen. The urgency he felt in reaching Winterfell, in reaching Rickon Stark, suddenly made a lot more sense.

He glared at the tree accusingly before closing his eyes in resignation. Laena was going to kill him.

“Very well, I will go hunt down some Wildlings.” He looked at the Warden of the North. “But I cannot stay for long. And I need to send a raven.”

At least he would finally get to burn something.

Chapter Text

Laena watched the children play with a soft smile on her face. She was starting to suspect that Addam and Alyn would never take up their duties as Daemon’s pages, though they would no doubt eventually become his squires.

They all made for such a pretty and happy picture. She wished she could preserve the scene in her mind forever. She wished her husband was there with her to see it. 

Instead, he had gone off to Winterfell. He had promised to send a raven once there, but even the bird would take three full days to get to King’s Landing. If he were to fly back from Winterfell immediately, he would be in the Red Keep before it, with plenty of time to rest. If he were truly to return in a sennight, there would be little need for ravens. No, if she were to receive a raven that day, it would only mean that he would not return the next.

She nearly rolled her eyes every time she thought of his words. You do not know anything more but that I am gone north to attend some matters, he had said. Winterfell, that was all she knew besides. Sennight, he had said, and she had not believed him for even a moment. I will be back , he had said, instead of I will be back soon.  

Laena remembered well enough what attending to some business in the Street of Silk had earned him. She did not trust that whatever this matter was would not bear like result.

There better not be a raven today. She would much prefer her husband.

Her eyes caught a movement to her side as her mother came to stand beside her, looking at the children as well. She laid an arm across Laena’s shoulders and hugged her to herself, her head resting against Laena’s. “Some time apart will do you good.”

Her eyes were wide with betrayal as she looked at her mother who merely smiled at her unperturbed. “You need your rest to recover. Daemon was not like to leave you alone when close.”

While that might have been not quite fair to her husband, she did not bother to correct her mother in her delusions as she fought a rising blush. She had little intention of discussing relations between her and her husband with her mother. It was quite enough that she had assumed the role of the defender of Laena’s truly not quite as needed recovery unprompted.

Thus, Laena was at a loss of what to say to her mother to steer her clear of the topic and felt an immense sense of relief when there was a knocking at the door to the nursery and her mother had to attend to it. She closed her eyes for a moment and pressed cool hands against her burning cheeks.

Her mother was frowning as she came back. “The queen invites us to join her and other ladies of the court for tea. She asks that you bring Aemon along.” 

That was an invitation Laena would never have expected from the queen again, and she blinked at the news. Was the woman daft? Or did she wish to embarrass Laena in turn? Either way, it could hardly be good. And her mother would be there as well. This would end in tears. Whose, that, remained in question.

Aemon was sleeping peacefully, having been fed only recently, and would be little trouble compared to the ladies at tea. He barely stirred when Laena took him from his cradle, his tiny fist fastening upon a loose strand of her hair.

The scene that greeted them when Laena and her mother entered the Queen’s ballroom was not dissimilar to the previous occasion when Laena had been invited to tea with the queen, with a single notable exception. Rhaenyra was there.

Laena carefully maintained a friendly expression as she curtsied to first the queen and then the princess, her mother doing much the same, though in a much shallower fashion. The queen’s smile was strained as she greeted them, though seemingly relieved to have them there. 

Her stomach churned with nerves as they were invited to sit, expectation of the confrontation to come almost unbearable, rendering the tea and scones offered barely edible. Laena’s head was mostly bowed to her son, caressing his soft skin and hair and letting the conversation flow by her and not taking part.

The queen’s voice was soft and carried warmth as she spoke. “Lady Laena, I must say, your son seems an unusually calm child.” The queen let out a laugh. “Of my own children, only Helaena was this quiet.”

Considering the concerns that she knew coursed through the court regarding the princess, that was certainly no compliment. She almost raised to the bait but was precluded by Rhaenyra’s laugh. 

“Indeed, the child is so quiet one can hardly believe him of my uncle’s seed.” Laena’s head snapped up to stare at her in disbelief. She bit her cheek to prevent a harsh reply. She dared?

Her mother’s laugh was genuine and entirely amused. “None that ever saw Daemon could doubt him his. Aemon is the very picture of his father. It is a true wonder how much like their parents children can be.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes contained impotent fury for but a moment before she spoke again, her tone lightly mocking. “I am sure my uncle was happy for you to provide him with an heir at last, good-sister. Though, I must admit myself surprised at the name.” She must have detected something in Laena’s expression. “I would have never expected him to name his firstborn son that .”

“It was I that named him.” Daemon had had no name for him. Every breath that Aemon took was a gift from the Gods. So were Laena’s.

Rhaenyra’s brow rose mockingly. “And he allowed that? I would have expected him to name his son after his father or the Conqueror.”

Laena could not help but stare, her lips cold, her response baffled and slow. “I do not believe my husband would thank me for naming our son for the babe that killed his mother.” She had no intention of addressing the first part of the statement, the wound still too raw. 

The queen thought it a good idea to intervene with a smile, reaching a hand out to lay on Laena’s arm. “I assure you that his brother had no issue with naming our son Aegon.”

Her response was measured. “Then I suppose the king must have taken his mother’s death differently.” Lightly was what was doubtless heard by all.

The queen let out a forced laugh as she patted Laena’s arm and withdrew. “Let us not speak of such. I invited you here for we all missed your company since the tourney ended.” Her laugh turned lighter. “You and your husband seem not to enjoy venturing out into the Keep too much. You both must join us for the evening meal in the great hall more often.” 

Laena was caught wrong-footed. Did they not realize that Daemon had not been in the Red Keep for days? She supposed it was possible. He had been shut up in their rooms after the stabbing, and he had received another wound after the tourney…

A servant appeared and stepped up to Laena with a message carrying the seal of House Targaryen. Her husband would not be returning the next day, she was sure.

She gave the queen a smile and handed her son over to her mother to open the raven scroll. The message was written in Valyrian with some strange twists in phrasing, so she had to focus to discern her husband's meaning. 

He would not return the next day or even the next sennight. Another fortnight would likely be overly optimistic. He had gone to the Gift. He had gone even further north than Winterfell. The North had requested help hunting down Wildlings and Daemon was providing it.

“I say, good-sister, whoever sends you a raven that has you frowning so?” Rhaenyra’s voice was mocking.

“My husband.” Laena’s tongue was loosened by shock. He went to fight Wildlings in the Gift . That was basically at the Wall . That was what was so important he had to leave Laena and their children behind with all haste?

There was a confused silence at her proclamation. It was the queen who broke it. “Why would your husband be sending you ravens?”

Laena was still numb with shock. “He has gone to fight Wildlings at the Wall.” He asked for more dragons, Seasmoke or Meleys, to return to her sooner.

Rhaenyra was laughing. “Why in the Gods’ name would he do that? Did he lack excitement in your company, good-sister?”

Laena ignored the slight and wished to be able to laugh too. “He went to keep the King’s peace. The North asked for aid.”

The queen was frowning. “When will the prince be back?”

“I do not know.” She shrugged helplessly. “It will likely be at least a fortnight.” A moon, more like than not.

“Good.” It was her mother that spoke and Laena turned her eyes to her, betrayed, already dreading what was to come. “The way you two were carrying on, you were like to bless me with another grandchild before your son’s first nameday.”

Mortified, Laena dropped her head to look at the message in her lap, face aflame.

Her own mother. Still, she could not remain silent entirely, so she spoke through gritted teeth. “Daemon asked you to announce yourself before entering our chambers. Repeatedly.”

Chapter Text

Laena could barely believe that she made it through the tea without further embarrassment, both Rhaenyra and her mother thankfully silent. She could not believe Daemon left her to this. After she had taken Aemon back into her arms, she kept her attention determinedly on him, her mind spinning with the contents of her husband’s message. 

She would not make it another moon without him. Sennight had proven to be too much, vultures circling already, sensing weakness. It was mind-boggling, truly. She wished to hurt him terribly for having left her as he did at the time he had, and yet needed him there, to hold her and to shield her.

She could not believe her mother either, to speak of such in company. Daemon would have known how to discourage her from ever doing so again without damaging their relationship irrevocably, but Laena did not.

As her son finally began to fuss, she could not be more grateful to have a reason to rise and excuse herself. Her mother did not rise with her, and Laena was grateful for that as well.

After she handed her son into the care of his wetnurse, she remained in the nursery with the children for a long time, deep in thought. They barely acknowledged her presence, too busy playing together still, and a smile finally returned to her face. She burned the missive the first chance she got.

The next morning, Laena broke her fast with the children and her parents, barely even eating anything as her stomach was all aflutter with nerves, her demeanor subdued. She made sure to play with her food unenthusiastically, pushing it along the plate and sighing unhappily. Her mother was looking at her with suspicion throughout. 

After the meal, when her father had excused himself to attend business in the city and the children were seen to, unbothered by the presence of the adults as they started arguing over what game to play, her mother pulled her to a seat by a window to speak somewhat privately, concern writ plainly on her face.

Her mother reached to stroke her hair, her expression gentle. She almost regretted what she was about to do at seeing it. “I worry for you, Laena. You seem unwell.”

Laena’s smile quivered as she gave her mother a wounded look and shrugged her shoulders helplessly. “All of this is just so much.” The breath she let out trembled. “I… I think you might be right. I do need rest.” She cast a vulnerable look around the room. “I think I may need a few days of peace and quiet.” Her smile turned wry as her eyes landed on the children, an argument over a game having shifted to one over its rules.

Her mother took the bait and laid a gentle hand on her arm. “Why don’t you join your brother at High Tide for a few days? I am sure that we will all manage without you for a time, and you do deserve your rest.” She paused, her eyes cutting to the children, her smile turning wry as well. “And some fun of your own.”

Laena wished to crow in victory but restrained herself, giving her mother a soulful look instead. “Are you sure? I would not wish to overburden you.”

Her mother patted her arm reassuringly, a warmth shining in her eyes. “I assure you I will be happy to bear this burden.”

Laena let out a put upon sigh. “If you believe it’s for the best.” She hugged her mother to hide her smile. Her mother’s arms came around her and held her. 

They stood like that for a long while. “I think I shall take Vhagar and go visit Laenor today then.”

Her mother hummed into her hair.

Laena had never in her life packed as quickly. She had to, lest her mother decide to visit and take notice of what clothes exactly it was that she was taking. It still took a few trips between the bedchamber and the cove before all the bags were secured to Vhagar’s saddle, leaving only a single bag for the final trip.

Her leave-taking of the children was much shorter than she would have wished, but a trip to Driftmark hardly warranted more. It was once again Aemon, that she held the longest, to whose tiny face she pressed the most kisses and to whom she whispered her plans and reassurances in hushed Valyrian. He would miss her the least, she was sure, his wetnurse much more important to him now than Laena herself.

She parted from her mother last, bidding her farewell in her parent’s chambers and hugging her, before taking the last traveling bag from the ground and ducking into the hidden passage her parents used to get to the dragon cove.

As she secured the last bag to the saddle and climbed atop Vhagar, an impish smile was on her face. Yes, some time away from King’s Landing would do her a world of good. She let out a joyous laugh when they rose to the sky and headed for Driftmark. Now, only her brother remained.

Her brother was most likely quite surprised to have her stroll into the High Tide’s Lord’s solar with no forewarning, but his happiness at seeing her once more so soon outshone it quickly. “Sister, I was not expecting you! Whatever brings you here?”

She gave him a wide smile and a hug. “Brother, I bring news from my husband. He went to the North and now requires our assistance.”

Laenor was frowning. “Daemon is in the North? What in Gods’ name is he doing there?”

Laena nodded grimly. “The North requested aid, and so he went to fight the Wildlings in the Gift. Now, he apparently requires more dragons to deal with them in a timely manner. He asks that we join him there.”

“We? Daemon asked that you and Vhagar join him as well?” Her brother’s brows and voice rose in disbelief.

Laena’s nod could not be more grave.

Laenor was at a loss. “What about mother and Meleys?” 

She shrugged indifferently. “Someone has to remain to care for the children, and mother agreed that I needed some time away from King’s Landing.” Her brother’s bewilderment was endearing. He gaped at her mutely for some moments, so she continued solemnly. “I would show you Daemon’s message, alas, I had to burn it.”

Laenor nodded in understanding, face turning grim. “Of course.” He shook his head with a resigned sigh, and then grimaced and clutched his hand over his eyes. “I don’t suppose you have any sort of armor? Daemon would kill me if I let you fly into battle unarmored.” 

Laena bounced on her heels, head shaking, and Laenor sighed again. “We need to visit an armorer then. Hopefully he can pull something together for you quickly.”

“When will we leave then?” A frown stole across her features. That did not sound likely to be ready that day.

“In the morn.” It would not be too much delay then.

She smiled. “Good. I have some things of Daemon’s on Vhagar that I believe he would like to have sooner rather than later.” Like his armor and warmer clothes.

She meant to send a raven informing her mother before they would leave Driftmark, but decided against it if they were to leave in the morn. Mother might be able to catch up to them, if there was not enough time and distance between them. No, she would send a message to her father with one of his ships leaving from Spicetown to King’s Landing each day. Things would be much better for everyone that way. Mother would not leave the children for days if she knew Laena and Laenor were long on their way.

As Laena followed her brother to the armorer to see about getting at least a maille shirt and some other pieces of armor for her, she squashed her feelings of guilt. She stomped on them harshly later, when they planned their journey north as well. As her brother packed supplies for them and instructed their father’s castellan on matters to attend to in her brother’s and father’s absence, she bit on the inside of her cheek to stop herself from speaking out.

Laena promised herself that she would tell her brother the truth before they reached the Gift. It would be unfair to him to let him face Daemon’s wrath unprepared, but it would not do to tell him too soon and have him turn around. Laena might have been the more experienced dragonrider in theory, but Laenor was a man, a knight and had fought a war besides. She could not travel such a distance alone, she needed her brother with her.

Daemon would be hers alone to deal with.

Chapter Text

It seemed to Otto that princes were getting misplaced quite a bit these days in King’s Landing. First his own grandson and then the Rogue Prince. 

The discovery of his grandson having fled the city had sent them all into confusion and scrambling to get the word out to their contacts to ensure his safety first and secure his speedy return, preferably with no harm coming to him second.

But a day later, the Rogue had been sighted still in Flea Bottom shortly before dawn and then returning to the Red Keep with some haste and after that being simply gone. He could only pray to the Gods that he had not received news of Aegon and his whereabouts, and had not gone to arrange for some accident to befall him. 

While the disappearance of Aegon was a true calamity for them, Otto was not overly worried. There were any number of people in all walks of life that would gladly bring him back to King’s Landing for a sufficient price, only the word needed to get out to them. In time, Aegon would be safely back in their hands. Unless the cursed Rogue was already on his trail. 

It was possible after all, that the rift between him and his niece was merely a ploy to appease their adversaries or mayhaps even Velaryons, if that animosity was a true one. Otto had little doubt that the Velaryons would not support princess Rhaenyra as the heir anymore, not after the countless little insults offered to her since their arrival to the court. Their support for Aegon could not be relied upon either, as witnessed by their rejection of a betrothal between their little princess and Aegon.

It would be only to the good, if the faction with the greatest number of dragons decided to not involve itself in the potential conflict. However, if Rhaenyra were to take up arms against Aegon’s eventual ascension, this impartial faction of dragonriders might emerge as the ultimate threat, for they would have the dragons to force a peace and its conditions. 

It would be only for the best if any challenges to Aegon’s crowning were to be dealt with long before the eventual death of the king. Though it remained unlikely that Viserys would allow for that and even the Hand of the King could not so blatantly go against the wishes of the King as to change the succession while the King still drew breath. 

There was little Otto could do at the moment but try to weaken the likely allies of the princess and alienate her from others. If those she counted on for support were to be weak and unable or unwilling to provide soldiers upon the king’s death, there still need not be fighting that would give her uncle a chance to rise to prominence.

The plan Hobert brought to him for the North seemed overly ambitious and like to end in disaster, but the light of the Seven was upon them. The North had been dealing with Wildling infestations with decreasing effectiveness, it would seem, until the Starks had finally pleaded with the crown for help from dragonriders. There had been a force assembled, and Lord Stark was to be gone from Winterfell for moons. With the Starks so distracted, the timing seemed a gift from the Seven.

They had seized the opportunity provided and sent the amendment out to the Great Houses for consultation. Much as expected, none had raised any objections, not even Starks. Only one obstacle remained in their path. Only the Master of Laws could record changes to laws and Prince Daemon, again, much as expected, had not taken keenly to his new position. Even his baiting of the Rogue Prince had earned him little results. The prince had not entered the amended law into the Book of Laws, and seemingly vanished into thin air the next day.

Oh, how Otto longed for the day when Starks realized how well they had been played. There was little doubt in his mind that there would be an open rebellion. The question remained whether it be against the Starks for allowing it or against the crown for enforcing it.

Nevertheless, in case of open rebellion against the Crown, there was little else the Iron Throne could do but squash it without mercy, enforcing the Crown’s laws in all the realms. Oh, how he wished to see the North razed under the shadow of dragons. There would be little support for any claim of Rhaenyra’s were she to lead the dragonriders entrusted with enforcement of the King’s Law. A smirk spread on his face. There would be very little support for her uncle and the Velaryons as well.

All that was left was for the Rogue Prince to emerge again and record the damn change. If he did not appear soon, he would have to hope for the king’s early recovery. Only the King named the members of the King’s Small Council, and only he could remove them from their office, no matter how little they did in their role.

Otto found himself torn between wishing for the prince’s early return and for his replacement caused by his lengthy absence. Either would work for him as long as the plan finally got to move forward.

His mind ventured back to his grandson. Wherever he was, Otto truly prayed that his uncle was nowhere near. They had had no luck finding Aegon so far, but there was little reason for worry yet. A head of silver hair might not be so uncommon in some places, but Sunfyre would be difficult to hide. They would find the boy soon enough, and once they did, he would take him in hand firmly to ensure there would be no further embarrassments. There were other grandsons to take Aegon’s place if truly needed, but Aemond lacked a dragon altogether and Daeron’s was too young yet.

No, Aegon with Sunfyre was still the best option, despite the rough edges.

Still, if the Rogue Prince had not gone looking for his nephew, Otto wondered where he was.

He was pondering the prince’s whereabouts even when he joined his daughter for a private evening meal. The queen was being unusually quiet and frowned at her food as she played with it. It was barely a behavior worthy of a queen, and he frowned as well. “Is something the matter, Alicent?”

“I had the strangest tea this afternoon.” Otto’s eyebrows climbed. Tea? Did someone dare try to poison the queen’s tea? “Rhaenyra did her best to insinuate that not all was well in the marriage of her uncle. In fact, she made it sound as if Prince Aemon was not his son at all.” He could only laugh at her baffled look.

His laugh continued even as Alicent continued speaking. “I don’t understand what it was all about. Viserys himself declared that the prince is the very image of Prince Daemon.”

He had to wipe his tears of merriment. “The princess questioned the legitimacy of her uncle’s only son? She?” He was near choking. “I wonder if she had dared say so if he were in the Keep.”

His daughter’s eyes were suddenly alert and her spine straightened. “You knew he was not in the city?”

Otto blinked at her. Of course, he knew, but how did she? He raised his brows at her in affected surprise. “The prince is not in the city?”

She gave a well-bred shrug and continued playing with her food. “He apparently went to the Wall to fight Wildlings.”

He nearly choked in earnest. “ What?! ”

She bit on her lip and frowned at her plate. “He received a request for help, and he went, apparently.” She sighed. “I had some hope that he could be persuaded to look for Aegon. He does have extensive contacts in the Free Cities and further away in Essos.” Aye, that was exactly the cause of Otto’s worries.

Surely, the prince’s presence in the North was purely coincidental. Even if he had left for the North after Otto reminded him of the laws awaiting his attention. Surely. There was not a single doubt in his mind of it.

They both spent the rest of the dinner in silent contemplation, playing with their food.

Otto found himself in the offices of the Master of Laws after the private dinner with his daughter was over. The room looked exactly as it had when he had left the papers with the five laws there for the prince. 

He approached the writing desk cautiously, looking around with observant eyes. Truly, nothing looked to have been moved since the last time he had been here. The papers were on the desk in the exact same place and when he checked them over, they were in the exact same order as well. He carefully put them back again.

As he was closing the door behind himself, he gave the chamber one last searching look. There was no disturbance. 

His unease only grew.

Chapter Text

They spent the first night of their travel out in the open, somewhere in the Fingers. They landed on a stony shore, their dragons doubtless as happy for the rest after a full day of flying as their riders. It had been a long time since Laena flew for a whole day, and she felt it in all of her body. It would surely not thank her for sleeping outside a bed either, but she would make do.

She smiled as she watched her brother fuss around their makeshift camp, arranging dragons around them to provide them protection in the night. It took more than a little wrangling to get the veritable mountain that was Vhagar positioned as he wished.

For all that they were siblings and both well-traveled, she had never traveled with him on dragonback overnight. For all her age, her husband had remained the only man with whom she had ever shared a camp. Until tonight. She could not be more grateful to her brother.

She would not allow Daemon the opportunity to be overly harsh with him once they joined him.

They would spend the next night in White Harbor, hoping to find where it was they were to follow Daemon. If there was no word, they would have to decide whether to head for Winterfell or further north to Last Hearth. The latter seemed the more likely option. They had decided even before leaving Driftmark that Last Hearth was more likely for Daemon to have moved to, though he could be anywhere in the Gift by now.

As they took off the next morning, Laena promised herself that she would tell her brother before they left White Harbor.

They circled the port city more than once to determine the best place to land their dragons, eventually deeming the city’s godswood sufficient. There were yells from below them as they descended into the ancient fort with the falling darkness.

A man was waiting for them as they descended from their dragons, keeping out of the range of claws and tails. A smirk appeared on Laena’s face. Or so he doubtless thought.

He greeted them as they finally approached them. “Welcome to Wolf’s Den, Your Graces. I am Ser Mortimer, the chief gaoler and the castellan.” Laena’s brows jumped up. Gaoler? Maybe not the best place to land, then. 

Laenor, ever the more talkative one, was the one to respond brightly. “There is little need for your graces, my good man. I am Ser Laenor Velaryon and this is my sister, Lady Laena Velaryon. We have come north to join Prince Daemon in his campaign in the Gift. We would like to spend the night in the city before flying on.”

The response hardly discouraged the man from his bows and deference, though he did turn to lead them out of the fort and into the city, where there were already guards in the colors of House Manderly rushing toward them.

When they reached them, their leader bowed to them as well, and Laena had to bite down on a grin as he spoke. “Your Graces, welcome to White Harbor. Lord Manderly asks that you join him in the New Castle.”

It was the gaoler that corrected them, his tone superior. “These are Ser Laenor Velaryon and Lady Laena Velaryon.” Laena had to bite down harder as she inclined her head in greeting.

Nevertheless, Laenor gave them all a friendly smile. “Thank you for your welcome. We will be glad to meet with Lord Manderly.”

And so they were led to the New castle along a well paved and well lit stepped path. Laena walked side by side with her brother, a content smile on her face. It would seem that a comfortable bed would be assured that night.

They were announced in the Merman’s Court, where Lord Manderly greeted them jovially. “Welcome to White Harbor, my lord, my lady. Your presence in the North is most welcome. We are most grateful for your assistance.”

There was a smile on Laenor’s face still as he answered the greeting. “Thank you for welcoming us so warmly. We have come as my good-brother, Prince Daemon, bade us.”

Lord Manderly nodded, with some seriousness entering into his expression. “Yes, of course.” He paused for but a moment. “Though I must admit myself confused. Lord Stark, in his missive, mentioned that we might expect one more dragon, and now there are two.” 

Oh.

Tension entered her brother’s body as he stood next to her, and guilt started to gnaw at Laena’s insides once again. “My good-brother most like did not wish to overpromise. There was some doubt that his wife and Vhagar would be able to come.” He turned to her while speaking, his eyes sharp and full of silent accusation.

The Lord of White Harbor was very apologetic. “It is a great shame that the hour of your arrival is too late to properly feast you.”

Laena seized on the opportunity presented to escape her brother’s eyes. “It is perhaps for the best. We are quite tired after days of travel and would likely not be the most gracious company.” Her laugh was bright and airy. “We also failed to pack any clothes appropriate for a feast. Our parents would hardly forgive us if we were to shame them by inappropriate attire.”

Lord Manderly nodded in understanding and took the cue to call for servants. “Of course. Chambers were prepared for you. Please, let my servants show you the way.”

Her smile was all gratefulness. “Thank you, my lord.”

Her brother was no less tense at her side as they were led away.

When they parted in front of the chambers assigned to her, she turned to him with a brightness that was all artifice. “ I would like to speak with you later tonight, after we have refreshed ourselves. Would that be alright with you? ” Will you come? Will you forgive me?

Laenor bit his lip, frowning. “ If am not too tired. ”

She was frowning and biting her lip herself as the door closed behind her, her stomach aflutter with guilt. Lost in her thoughts, she nearly jumped out of her skin, when servants arrived with pails of hot water for her bath. She could certainly use that.

Laenor did come to her as she relaxed after her bath, and somehow that made her feel even worse.

He was all nonchalance as he strolled into the room. “ So I take it Daemon is in fact going to kill me? ”

“ Do not say that! ” She jumped from her seat and glared at him. “ I will not let him blame you! And I was going to tell you before we left here anyway. ” 

“ What did Daemon’s message actually say? ”

She scuffed her foot on the floor, and she looked down guiltily, color rising in her cheeks. “ He asked for Seasmoke or Meleys to join him. ” She looked up at him with wide eyes. “ That was the only thing I lied to you about, I swear. ”

His look was stern, and his arms were folded behind his back. “ The only thing you lied to me about. What about mother? Does she know where you went? ”

She bit her lip. “ She does now. ”

His eyes were full of disbelief, his voice high. “ She allowed this?! ”

“ Not exactly. She did say I deserve some time away. But she thought me going to join you on Driftmark. I did send her a message saying where we were going before we left. ”

Her brother’s hands went into his hair and clutched at it as if wishing to tear it out. “ Laena! Why did you not tell me sooner?! ”

She stomped her foot. “ Because you would not let me come! And I have to see Daemon! Not in a moon or more! Now! ” There were tears threatening to rise in her eyes, but she would not let them fall. She would not!

All fight seemed to go out of her brother, his hands dropping to his sides, and his voice turned soft. “ Daemon will not be happy about this, you know that. ” 

Laena’s chin raised. “ Good. He can be unhappy about his spouse’s actions for a change, too. ”

Laenor’s lips twitched, and he raised a hand to run over his mouth before closing his eyes in resignation. “ Gods, you two deserve each other. ”

She decided not to take offense at his tone.

Laena approached her brother the next morn before they mounted their dragons and laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Do not worry so, brother. I promise to remind Daemon that kinslaying is a grave sin.” She gave him an impish grin and a wink. “And that harming you in any way would greatly displease me.”

The last vestiges of tension drained from him as he laughed at her words.

As they rose above the city and turned their dragons north towards Last Hearth, it was Laena’s shoulders that were tense.

Chapter Text

When Daemon returned to Last Hearth, he was cold and annoyed. He might have been overly optimistic in how long it would take him to deal with this infestation. He had spent several days already surveying the area up to Queenscrown and even beyond, where the Wildlings were known to have attacked. The area was just too large, and a single dragon would do little.

Even two dragons would be for nought as the vastness of the area precluded effective communication. A dragon every score of miles would still not be enough, if they never learned of an attack until long after it was done with. If the Wildling forces truly came together only for the attacks, he wondered how they did it. Their means of communication could surely not be any better than the Northmen’s own. They should be worse, in fact, as the Northmen possessed trained ravens and mounted messengers. 

Could they have pre-planned their targets and times the force would come together for an attack? It seemed near impossible. What if the situation evolved such that the conditions would be entirely unfavorable to them? How would the attack be called off?  None of it made sense. The coordination required for ongoing attacks across such an area was mind-boggling for unwashed savages.

One thing was for sure. Daemon had overestimated himself and just how much he could contribute to a quick resolution of a conflict once again. Worse still, this was much worse than the Stepstones. The Steps were an island chain, where one could easily trap their enemy on one island or another and merely wait for their supplies to run out. There was no such option here. There were too many places to hide and too much wildlife to live off comfortably for a large force for a very long time.

Daemon did not have that much time to spend here. He had no wish to spend the time he already had here. But he had little wish to leave empty-handed.

He had come to acknowledge long ago that his pride would be his downfall one day. He did not expect it to be in the fucking North against fucking Wildlings. He would not let it. He would think of something. If Laenor were to join him, he would surely have one of his oh-so-bright ideas. If it was Rhaenys that would come, she would bully him until he would come up with something just to get away from her. Either would work for him, truly, as long as they came.

He had half a mind to go ranting to a tree again, though he doubted it would go unnoticed. The godswood at Last Hearth was much more open than the one at Winterfell. What was the point of sending him here in the first place, if there was nothing he could do to change things? Somehow, he doubted that his mere presence now could prevent Stark’s death moons into the future. Daemon had no intention of wasting away here for moons on end.

Caraxes was miserable. For all that he enjoyed the endless hours spent in the air with Daemon, his dislike for the ever present cold was intense. It was the height of summer, and yet both of them felt half-way frozen. There was fire in their blood, yet it did little to warm them. It was almost enough to make one miss the Stepstones. Almost.

After taking his evening meal with the Northmen in the great hall, he retreated to his room and threw himself on the bed fully clothed. He lay there and stared at the ceiling, his mind spinning with possibilities. There was little they could do unless they discovered how they managed that coordination. Were there spies among the Northmen? How?

He started to pace the room. He did his best thinking moving. The room was too confining. The pacing was only making him more agitated. He swore under his breath and tore out of the room.

The godswood was a vast improvement on his peace of mind, and he breathed out slowly as the tension finally started to leave him. Really, it was much better compared to the room. Even the cold didn’t seem to bother him as much as before. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing.

The quiet of late evening was broken as Caraxes let out a mighty roar followed shortly by a happy trill and his eyes snapped open and towards his mount in suspicion. What did he have to be so happy about? He was just as miserable as Daemon just moments before. He turned sharply in the direction of the Blood Wyrm to investigate. He better not have eaten anyone.

He stumbled and then froze as he heard an answering rumbling roar in the distance. Fucking hells. He knew that roar. He closed his eyes once more and forced himself to focus on his breathing again. He was a fucking moron. He should have known better than to send a raven to Laena. 

He returned to the damned tree to stare at its carved face. There was a deep-seated resentment in his voice as he spoke. “I blame you for all of this.” Then he rested a hand against its trunk and demonstratively kicked it a few times for good measure.

When people started to stir with an appropriate level of panic, wising up to the fact that a massive dragon was nearly upon the castle, Daemon finally moved in the direction of Caraxes. His mouth was set in a tight line, his shoulders were tense, and his spine was rigid. His hold on his temper was not guaranteed.

A few steps later, he forced himself to stop and close his eyes again and breathe measured breaths. He reminded himself that he loved his wife. He reminded himself that life without her had been barely tolerable. He reminded himself that he did not in fact want to wring her neck.

When he opened his eyes, the castle courtyard was well-lit and Vhagar started to descend into it. He blinked as his brain registered what his eyes saw. There was a second dragon circling above. Seasmoke. He stared up, gaping in utter disbelief. What the fuck was wrong with Laenor, taking his sister along to fight the Wildlings?

As Vhagar landed, Daemon was puzzled to see Seasmoke still circling, not even starting to descend yet. His frown was more confused than anything else, and he shook his head to clear it. Vhagar. Vhagar was his primary concern. He moved toward her.

He stood by Vhagar’s side as her rider dismounted, giving him a tired smile. His smile was rather ironic in return, and Laena faltered as she took a few steps toward him and stopped to fidget with her hands before hiding them behind her back. “ Husband, it is good to see you. ”

His reply was sour. “ I wish I could say the same. Your presence here is rather surprising, wife. ”

She let out a long sigh. “ I promised Laenor I would remind you that kinslaying is a grave sin and that any harm coming to him by your word or your hand would displease me greatly. ”

His chuckle was dark. Considering that this whole thing started with him driving Dark Sister though the skull of his cursed kinslaying nephew, that was a rather weak defense.

Laena wilted a bit more and bit her lip. “ It is not his fault. I did not tell him the truth until White Harbor. ”

What was wrong with Laenor? Pah! What was wrong with Laena?!

He closed his eyes again to try and calm the fury raging within him. He took a step closer to her when he opened them, and a tentative smile returned to her face. He took another and another until they stood chest to chest, and she had to tilt her head back. She looked up at him with bewildered eyes.

His voice was an enraged whisper. “ Laena, what the fuck are you doing here? ”

She seized his wrists in her cold hands, her eyes wide and vulnerable and scared. “ I needed to see you. ”

Daemon looked into her eyes, stumped. Something was wrong, he was sure of it. He blinked and let out a startled breath as all of his justified rage left him in a rush of confusion. “ Laena, what’s wrong? ” His voice was very soft after the harshness of the words spoken just moments before.

She stared at him, disoriented by the sudden change in him, and then fury sparked in her eyes and twisted her features. “ You left me! Just when- ” She shook her head sharply and stomped her foot in apparent frustration as she cut herself off. When she spoke again, her voice was firm and even. “ It does not matter. I am here now, and I am not returning to King’s Landing without you, and there is nothing you can do about it. ”

He gaped at her, utterly perplexed. He let out an incredulous laugh. “ There is nothing I can do about it? I can throw you on Caraxes and fly you there right now. ”

Her shrug was careless, her countenance smug. “ You would be coming with me then. ”

He rolled his eyes, amused. “ I can throw you over Seasmoke and have Laenor fly you there then. ” He cast a doubtful look up at the still circling dragon. “ If he ever decides to land, that is. ”

She gave him a toothy grin. “ I need your word that you will not send me away first. ” She paused for a moment with a pout. “ And that you will not do anything to my brother. ”

Fucking hells. Fucking willful dragonriders. Why had he ever married one?

His lips pulled back in a snarl, and he freed his wrists aggressively to stomp towards the keep. “ Fine. Let the coward know he can land now. ”

“ I have your armor and some warm clothes for you! ” Her bright voice stopped him in his tracks, and he closed his eyes yet again and cursed in the privacy of his mind. Then he turned sharply back to Vhagar. He could not let her carry all of that alone.

The room felt even smaller now, with the addition of his recalcitrant wife. Still, with fewer witnesses to their interactions, he might be able to needle the reason for her presence, for her fear out of her. He hoped.

He looked at her speculatively. “ Did something happen while I was gone? ”

She was seated on the bed, looking around the small space with wide-eyed wonder. She shrugged at his question and threw herself back to stare at the ceiling. “ Not really. ”

He would have to approach the bed if he wanted to see her face. He considered his options carefully and stayed where he was, arms folded and biting on his lip in thought. What are you so afraid of, then?

A long moment of silence stretched between them.

“ Did you truly come to the North to fight Wildlings? ”

He stared at her. He was fairly certain he was supposed to be the one asking the questions. Still, he sighed. “ No. I did not go to Winterfell because of that. ”

She raised herself to her elbows and frowned at him. “ Why did you go then? ”

He frowned right back as he considered his next words carefully. “ There is a certain change to a certain law that would greatly discourage certain traditions of non-Andal religions. It seemed important that the Starks know of it immediately. ” He paused at the dawning look of dismay on her face. He turned his eyes away from her to the ceiling. “ In fact, I am fairly certain it was their Gods that made me leave. ” And it seemed likely that that was the power to send him back as well.

He glared at the floor instead and started to pace again. “ I barely made it to Winterfell before its lord left. ” He paused and corrected himself. “ I did not make it to Winterfell before Stark left, but he was close enough still to return when Caraxes appeared. He was going to die soon. Now I don’t think so. ”

“ So the Gods intervened to save his life? Through you? ” Her voice was full of wonder.

He pulled a face at that and finally looked at her. She was hugging her middle, her eyes big and hopeful. There was little to be hopeful about. In his experience, Gods of any kind cared little for humans. If they showed a particular interest in anyone, it could only mean trouble.

Chapter Text

Corlys stormed into their chambers in a fury, face twisted in a fierce scowl. She had rarely seen him so enraged, not even Daemon’s dream causing such. He started pacing, seemingly choking on his ire.

She raised from her seat, and looked at him in concern for long moments. When he did not seem to calm at all or even find any words, she had to step into his path and lay her hands on his arms to stop him. “Corlys, what is it?”

“Our children!” A dread spread through her body. Her children were not meant to live even this long, according to the dream. What happened to them?

Something in her face must have given away her thoughts to her husband, for he calmed rapidly and grabbed at her own arms. “They are not harmed.” His expression darkened. “Yet. I should have taken them over the knee more when they were young, and mayhaps they would not cause us this much trouble now.”

A frown stole across her features. “What is the matter?”

He scoffed and released her, shrugging off the arms holding him in turn, and walked to a window to look outside as he spoke. “Your fool daughter took her brother and their dragons and flew off on an adventure .” 

A disbelieving scoff escaped her, and she folded her arms across her chest. If it was an adventure they sought, it was not her that they inherited that trait from, and her husband knew that well enough. Whatever it was, that their children did, she was sure Corlys was overreacting. He had been on the very edge of breaking for some time now, and their children seemingly finally managed to tip him over.

“Would you mind terribly telling me what it is that actually happened that has you in such a state?”

Her husband turned back to face her, his expression grave. “Laena received a message from Daemon, asking for help with the Wildlings in the North.” Her eyebrow rose of their own volition. Rhaenys had been there when Laena had read the letter, and she had failed to mention that. “So our daughter thought it a good idea to go join her husband herself with her brother.”

“What?” The word left Rhaenys in a gasp. Laena had wished to recover, to rest. She had needed some peace and quiet, that was all.

Corlys snorted in disgust. “She was very apologetic in her letter. She was sorry for deceiving you, for deceiving Laenor, for leaving the children.” He rolled his eyes and then kept them fastened on the ceiling. “But she could not stay.” A heavy sigh escaped him, and he dropped his head, suddenly weary. “I suppose we should be grateful that she ran away to her husband.”

Aye, she supposed they should be grateful for that too, but she could not bring herself to it. Her daughter had run away from them. From her . From Rhaenys . It was Rhaenys she had deceived, it was Corlys that she had chosen to send her letter to, and it was Laenor she had taken with her.

Why? Why had her daughter, her firstborn child, done this? What had Rhaenys done to deserve this?

Oh Gods, what had she done? She had no idea.

Silent tears rolled down her face as she walked back to her seat to sink back down into it. Her hand rose to cover her mouth and her eyes closed as her shoulders shook.

She heard Corlys let out another weary sigh. “The letter did not even explain why she felt the need to do it, only that she had to.” His voice came closer to her, and she felt his hand on her shoulder. “You can read it for yourself.”

When she opened her wet eyes, there was a parchment in front of her face. She took it with damp fingers, smudging the ink somewhat.

They had received word almost a fortnight after Laena’s flight from King’s Landing. It was written in Daemon’s hand in High Valyrian, its tone very apologetic as well, even though the words themselves had not been put to paper. They had reached him safely, he had written, the elder dragon refusing to leave. He had promised to look after them and see them home. He had not written when that would be. Rhaenys should not blame herself, he had written, and she wondered at that. If not herself, who was left to blame?

While the news of Laena’s removal from the court had spread across the Keep quickly, the knowledge of just where she had gone had thankfully not. She could barely stomach the false concern of the queen and the not-truly-hidden smugness on Rhaenyra’s part, even as she avoided answering any probing questions. Despite her best efforts, Rhaenys continued to be invited to the queen’s teas, and so did the Princess of Dragonstone.

She wondered whether the queen intended to use her as a shield. Whether that was the reason she had invited her and Laena to that horrible tea as well. She was quite done with all these false concerns and pitying glances and sneering condescension. The blame lies not with you, cousin, Daemon had written, and Rhaenys had not believed him for even a moment. Mayhaps not all the blame lay with her, but certainly enough of it did.

She came to hate these teas from the very bottom of her heart.

The queen spoke her usual platitudes with a soft voice, and Rhaenys barely contained an eye-roll as she besought the Gods to grant the poor Lady Laena an early recovery and swift return to the court. 

Rhaenyra did not bother. Her voice was haughty and cut like a blade. “It is nigh on inconceivable that someone with such a constitution managed to claim a dragon such as Queen Visenya’s own mount, the great Vhagar. Whatever was my uncle thinking, taking a wisp of a girl like that to wife.” Her tinkling laugh was light and airy. The queen stared at her in shock, as did other ladies.

Rhaenys was well and truly done, and her smile turned cutting. “My dearest cousin was most likely thinking of what luck he had to have found such a beautiful and fierce dragonrider.”

Her good-daughter clearly missed the signs of danger, for she plowed right on, laughing still. “Princess, I must admit, many words come to mind to describe my good-sister, but fierce is not one of them.”

She lifted her brows in affected surprise. “Oh, truly? Her husband must see it differently then. Since the reason Laena is not here with us is that he requested the presence of both Vhagar and Seasmoke in the North.” She pointed her gaze toward the floor, pretending sheepishness. “My dear cousin did ask for confidence, but it hardly seems necessary now.”

Rhaenyra’s voice was frigid. “My uncle asked for support of additional dragons? Why have I not heard this before?”

Rhaenys shrugged indifferently and looked at her over the rim of her teacup. “Why would you? Besides Caraxes, only Vhagar and Seasmoke have seen battle before.” Her smile was thin. “I assure you the three are well-used to defending the kingdoms.”

The princess’ lips were pressed tight together, mind clearly spinning for another avenue of attack, as she glared at her good-mother who smiled at her beatifically and sipped her tea.

Finally, Rhaenyra’s face smoothed, and a thin smile appeared on it. “Vhagar is a treasure. Still, it must have been a great relief for you when my uncle, a fresh widower, stumbled upon your daughter yet unmarried at her age even with such a prize attached.”

Rhaenys laughed a genuine laugh. Oh, there was a perfect response to this, and she had no qualms of using it now. “Indeed it was. You would not know this, but Daemon was such a sweet child.” She acted as if her eyes misted in reminiscence. “When I was first expecting, everyone wished for the babe to be a boy. Not Daemon. All of ten namedays, he prayed that the babe be born a girl, so he would have someone to marry. The babe was Laena.” 

She gave Rhaenyra a sweet smile. “When Daemon was promised to Rhea Royce, I pleaded with my grandfather to abandon the match, for him to marry Laena instead. Alas, though the King did not grant my wish, the Gods eventually did.” She paused for effect. “So yes, you are quite right, good-daughter, I was relieved when Daemon and Laena married at last.”

In retrospect, she could understand why her grandfather had denied her wishes. For all that Daemon had been his favorite, letting him marry Laena would have potentially strengthened Rhaenys’ own position to succeed him to the throne. If there had been one thing that would have left the Old King blind to everything else, the threat of a woman on the Iron Throne had been it. 

Rhaenyra’s expression was sour, while the queen appeared quite stunned by the story. Rhaenys brought the teacup to her lips again to hide her smile in a sip.

Let them chew on the idea of the Rogue Prince as a child praying to the Gods for a babe to be born to be his wife and then having that prayer granted. 

Otto Hightower had expended quite an effort to malign her cousin’s reputation in the eyes of the king and the court after those rumors of sweet virtuous Alicent offering herself to the prince only to be rejected had emerged. It truly boggled the mind that afterward, Daemon had somehow managed to remain in positions he had been well-trained for by his father and grandfather for a shockingly short amount of time.

Let them all think of just how wrong they had been about her cousin all this time.

Chapter Text

Laena had been with him for several days already, and Daemon had not yet truly given up on getting her to leave. He had not yet written to her parents either, for he held a hope of convincing her yet, of her reaching King’s Landing before any raven that he would send did. 

He had not given up on wheedling the true reason for her presence out of her either, though it seemed that the urgency and the fear that had been present in her the night she had arrived with her brother had dissipated. Laena suddenly appeared at peace, even playful, and he was left to wallow in a sea of confusion. What had chased her out of King’s Landing, and what had happened since she had arrived to dispel her worries?

His gaze drifted to her where she sat on their bed, combing through her hair, a dreamy smile on her face. As his hackles had been raised by the frightened look she had about her upon her arrival, the disappearance of it but a day later had him entirely unnerved.

He chewed on his lip with a frown and arms folded across his chest as he regarded her and decided to attempt to extract some information out of her again, smoothing his expression out before letting a sly grin stretch across his face. His voice was honey. “ Were you terribly bored in the Red Keep with me gone? ” 

He raised a cheeky brow in amusement as she turned her head toward him and scoffed. “ Not at all, husband. I hardly noticed it. ” Considering her presence here, he very much doubted that. 

His smile stretched in amusement and a brow rose a tad higher. “ Oh, truly? Our children must be more entertaining conversationalists than I have given them credit for. ”

She pouted and scowled at him, raising her chin to look down her nose at him haughtily. “ I will let you know that our children were not in fact the only people for me to converse with in your absence. ”

His finger rose to his chin in thought. “ Ah, not our children, then. I wonder who the great conversationalist between Addam, Allyn and Naerys would be. ”

She shook her head with a laugh. “ I truly did not spend all my time with the children, I promise you. ”

“ Oh, so it is your parents? ” He scrunched his nose, his question turning playful. “ Is there even anything left to speak to them about after knowing them your whole life? That must be boring, surely. Does not make for an entertaining conversation at all. ” His head was shaking.

She laughed at him. “I will let you know that I did speak with other people as well.”

His eyes were wide with affected shock, his hand raised to his chest as if wounded by her words. She laughed again and rolled her eyes at him. “ The queen also invited me to tea again. ” A minute frown passed over her features. “ Along with my mother. And Rhaenyra. ”

Daemon blinked in surprise at that, his voice slightly skeptical. “ Was the first one not quite enough for her? ”

Laena bounced on the bed, nodding enthusiastically. “ That’s exactly what I thought! ”

He pulled a face, his expression genuine for a change. “ The queen’s teas must be quite entertaining these days, then. ”

Her eyes shined in amusement. “ It was! You would not believe what Rhaenyra tried to do! ” Her tone was conspiratorial, her expression gleeful.

“Oh?” Finally, he was getting some information.

Her laugh was beautiful. “ She tried to imply that Aemon was not yours! Because he is a quiet babe! Regardless of the fact that he looks exactly like you! When her own children are nothing like anyone in the entire family! ” She cackled as she shook her head.

That had Daemon blinking in stunned disbelief. “ In front of your mother? ” Had Rhaenyra lost all sense of self-preservation? Did she not know Rhaenys at all? What had she been thinking? He chortled to himself as his mind spun with the news.

“Daemon?” 

“Hm?” He looked at her, giving him an expectant look.

She seemed suddenly self-conscious, biting her lip, her tone plaintive. “ Would it be? ”

Ah, he must have missed a part of the conversation. Not a good idea when one is trying to figure out an elusive opponent.

He gave her an apologetic smile and an embarrassed shrug. “ I must apologize, I got lost in thought for a while there. What did you say? ”

She deflated. “Oh.” She chewed on her lip with a frown before repeating herself. “ Well, your letter arrived during the tea. And my mother… ” She let out a sigh. “ She said that it was good that you were gone, otherwise she would be blessed with another grandchild before the year was out. ” She grimaced sourly. He laughed again. So the claws had come out.

Laena shrugged, her tone light. “ And I asked you whether that would be such a bad thing. ”

Rhaenys had been exaggerating. For there to be a babe before the year was out, Laena would already have to be…

The laughter froze in his lungs as he stared at her in horrified realization. Would that it were just a question of wanting a babe.

He could not breathe all of a sudden. His head felt light, and his lips were numb with cold. His ears were ringing and cold too as he shook his head to clear it of a rising fog.

“ It is not too late for moon tea. ”

Her voice was cautious and tinged with disappointment. “ No, I suppose it is not. ”

Fuck. They had been careful.

“ When did you realize? ” He was afraid to even look at her, terrified to see her burning in Vhagar’s flames once more.

“ Just before you left. I waited to speak with you. ” Her voice was soft, so very soft, as he saw her pull her legs up onto the bed and hug them out of the corner of his eye.

His eyes closed. Fuck.

Her voice was full of hesitation. “ I was scared after what you said happened with Aemon. I… but I could not decide without speaking with you first. And I am not frightened anymore. ”

He could tell what she had decided, and he had no idea what he had said to reassure her so. He was certainly petrified by fear.

“ What made up your mind? ” He was sure there was a great deal of resignation in his voice as he joined her on the bed to wrap an arm around her and bring her to rest against his side.

Her voice brightened, and his stomach turned to hear it. “ You said the Gods sent you here to preserve Lord Stark’s life. And I thought about it. ”

He looked down at her to see her chewing on her lip, frowning slightly in thought. “ It is a gift from the Gods, isn’t it? Like every breath Aemon takes. Like me living through his birth.” She looked up at him imploringly. “And surely we would not be granted all that and this gift as well if we were not meant to keep it? ”

She pressed on. “ I do not think I would mind it too terribly if I were to die in a childbed as long as the babe got to live. ” She might not, but he most certainly would. “ What you said about how I died. That was such a waste, wasn’t it? Neither of us living. But both of us, Aemon and I, are here now. Both healthy and strong, and now we are given this. And we were being careful. There was such a small chance of this happening, and it did. Surely, the Gods wouldn’t give this to us just to take it away? ”

He stared at her, his whole body still cold, dread still gripping his insides, breath still difficult to come by, wishing he could believe that himself.

He dropped a kiss to the top of her head before resting his own on it, closing his eyes and holding her tighter.

The Gods give just as the Gods take away.

Daemon supposed that this was the part where he was meant to stop cursing them and start bargaining.

Hours later, as Laena slept peacefully next to him, sleep continued to elude him. He lay on his back, staring at the dark ceiling with unseeing eyes, holding his wife to his side.

Despite it all, Laena would not leave without him. Now, she would not even leave with him as long as it meant leaving before improving the situation with the Wildlings sufficiently. She had heard too many stories of their exploits, and Daemon cursed her compassionate heart.

Fighting the Wildings in the North was less stressful and more beneficial to her health than being cooped up in the Red Keep, at least according to his stubborn wife, and there was little he could do or say to change her mind. There were scarce arguments to come by when he was the one that had endangered her life the most, and not in the North either.

He gave up on sleeping with a heavy sigh and left the bed to dress himself. Venturing out into the cold night and into the godswood, he sat down in front of the weirwood. He sat staring at its carved face in the darkness, feeling lost and hopeless. He sat there until the darkness started to lighten, mind spinning. What was he to do now?

Later in the morn, he stared at the message he had written to his cousin. Laena would not leave. He could not make her leave so all that he could do was resolve the situation as quickly as possible. And he would have to use Laena and Vhagar as well to achieve it, there was no getting around that.

The blame lies not with you, cousin, he had written. No, the blame lay not with her. It was all his.

Chapter Text

Skinchangers. Daemon had never before heard of skinchangers. And yet, as he spoke with various Northmen to discover what their thoughts on the startlingly good Wildling coordination were, that was the answer that he received most often. No one believed that there were spies among them, but the longer the attacks went on, the less free they were to speak in hearing of animals.

This was mayhaps the strangest thing that Daemon ever experienced, and he had witnessed some decidedly strange things. He was a dragonrider himself for the Fourteen’s sake. He had lived a life, he had died and then woken with memories of that life, of a future that seemed now entirely gone. But the paranoia the Northmen started to exhibit towards almost all animals had taken him aback. His questions apparently did not help improve the situation.

The whole thing seemed to have only one bright spot, or rather a slightly less dark one. While skinchangers could see through the eyes of animals or even control them, the belief among the Northmen was that they were largely restricted to land. Birds might be controlled, but were rarer. Hopefully, none were at play here. Dragons might yet remain a surprise if not entirely a secret.

His gaze drifted as he spotted movement in the corner of his vision. His wife and her brother were close by, inspecting supplies. He turned sharply away. Daemon was planning. He could not afford to dwell on… things. And that eventually happened whenever he saw Laena. Daemon had a task to complete, and he would not be distracted. He needed them to return to King’s Landing as quickly as possible for… Damn it!

He shut his eyes. He had been thinking of keeping dragons undetected in the skies. And skinchangers. Yes, skinchangers. They could use animals for scouting far ahead of their forces, for spying, for listening in on conversations. The skinchangers would see and hear all through the animal. Animals had far keener senses than humans, many were even known to be able to sense fear and other emotions besides.

A sinister smile stretched across his face. They could use fear. The fear in their own men. The Northmen were already afraid of skinchangers. All they needed to do was provide a juicy target or three for the Wildlings to attack and make sure that the force sent to defend it feels fear, believes themselves sent to the slaughter with no chance of survival and better yet, talks of it.

It could not be a force out of Last Hearth, then. All knew of dragons here. All would no doubt know or believe to know that if a plan was put into motion, dragons would be a part of it. They would not be wrong.

He was sure that whatever he came up with, the Northmen would not like.

“Evacuation of the Gift?” The Umber in charge of the garrison did not look happy. Indeed, he looked as far from happy as can be. Were he not a prince, there might be violence. There might be violence still, were he a prince of a lesser reputation.

Daemon nodded pleasantly. “Yes. You need to gather the smallfolk still in the Gift and make them leave. At least until the Wildlings are dealt with.”

The Umber was scowling fiercely at him. “They will be lambs to the slaughter.” Yes, that was the point.

He smiled at him in return. “Which is why we will send word to the forces gathered wherever they are to provide protection for them.”

The Northman looked far from convinced, and Daemon sighed. “Look, we cannot use dragons when we could well be burning out our own folks along with the Wildlings.” His voice turned stern. “And I have no intention of spending moons tracking down one or two Wildlings at a time. Dragons are wasted on that.”

The Northman looked only slightly less unhappy, but a lot more understanding, as he sighed. “So you mean to burn the Gift to burn the Wildlings.”

Daemon left him to his conclusions. It came to him that whatever they did, the news of the dragons would spread. Even if they only sent out messengers to the other gathered forces, people talked.

Laenor spoke up next, frowning. “It occurs to me that it would be for the best to have the evacuation happen all at once. And it cannot happen all along the Kingsroad. The smallfolk would be too exposed for too long even before they reach it.”

Umber was gritting his teeth. “Just what is it that you suggest, my lord?”

“I am suggesting that we use more than one route along which the people would leave. One from Queenscrown down along the Kingsroad, yes. That would be the westernmost one. We need one, preferably two more to the east. The Gift is simply too vast for just one.”

The Northman was staring at them aghast. “You mean to split our forces not once, but twice to protect a long line of smallfolk.”

Daemon looked at him with a smile. Yes, that was exactly what they wanted them to do. And yes, it was supposed to look a suicide.

“It will be for the best. Trust me.” And it would be. The Wildlings would see a long line of smallfolk with all their worldly possessions, with a protection force stretched out too thin. They would likely be cautious of a trap and send out whatever animals they had to investigate. And they would smell fear and hear talk of folly, and would not resist gathering to attack.

The Northman regarded Daemon with dark suspicion at his words.

He could not suppress the talk of dragons, but he could grow the belief that they would sit idly by while the men died and act only once there were no Northern forces or smallfolk in the Gift.

It would earn him little love among the Northmen, but he cared not. Only the results mattered, and he needed this resolved quickly. They would realize they had been played as soon as death swept down from the skies upon the attacking Wildlings and mayhaps they would understand then.

Regardless, there was nothing the Northmen could do about the plan, no matter how unhappy they may be. To them, Daemon spoke with the authority of the Iron Throne. The Lord of Last Hearth might disagree with him, alas he was out, likely close to Queenscrown with his own forces by now. The Warden of the North might challenge him on it, but he was not there yet, and the likelihood of him arriving before the plan was irreversibly put into motion seemed negligible. This Umber man was but a steward with no authority to call Daemon out on his stupidity, and he knew it, and he doubtless cursed him for it in his mind. If they were lucky, he would curse him for it out loud as well over a pint of ale with his friends.

The Northman was gritting his teeth, his jaw visibly clenched tightly even underneath his bushy beard. He remained silent.

Daemon smiled and nodded. “It is decided then. Vhagar will fly to Queenscrown with additional supplies and letter, carrying the plan. Seasmoke will head northeast, carrying the same message to the forces in that direction.” Caraxes would head west into the hills, carrying him to the mountain clans.

He continued, undeterred by the lack of displayed enthusiasm. “Afterward, the dragons will head north to the Wall. Let us secure it before turning our attention to the Wildlings already below it.” 

While they would spend the nights at the Wall, they would spend the days watching the progress of the evacuation. They did not expect an attack in the night, when the defending forces would be more tightly concentrated around a smaller area. No, they expected an attack during the day, as the forces and smallfolk inevitably stretched themselves out into a long column. The Wall was merely the easiest point to navigate to, as they would be returning to it under the cover of darkness. It should also keep them far away from sight of any fucking skinchangers.

Over a fortnight later, as he flew just below the clouds on Caraxes to see the long column stretching below him and the rising panic in the ranks, he smiled to himself. Finally. Finally, they took the bait. 

Daemon was quite fed up with the Wall and the Night’s Watch, having spent far too many nights for his liking there. They had moved from Castle Black to Eastwatch after just one night to reduce travel times for Vhagar and Seasmoke. Neither castle was much to look upon, but the garrisons were worse still. If this was the force to stand against whatever threat the Conqueror foresaw, then surely they were all doomed already. He could scarce understand what his grandmother saw in them to warrant granting them the New Gift at all.

He descended lower with caution to better observe, and his smile widened. They arranged themselves so nicely for him and Caraxes, too.

Caraxes swooped down on the attacking line of Wildlings, breathing fire all along their line. None escaped him. When they reached the end of the line, they rose up and turned back to repeat the same along the other side of the column. Some of these may escape yet, but there was nowhere to hide for them for now, and the Blood Wyrm would enjoy the chase. 

Attack dealt with in short order, all that was left for him was to hope that the other attacks happened on this day as well, and they could at last be done with the North.

As he returned to Eastwatch before dusk that day, it was the first time he did so before the night fell, and he could already see that he would be the last to arrive still. Vhagar and Seasmoke were already there, resting. His smile was wide, as he went to land. They were done then. If there were any Wildlings left, their number should not be enough to trouble the assembled Northern forces at all as they swept through the countryside.

There was just one last thing left to do.

As they spent their time at the Wall, they came to learn how it was that the Wildlings came to be on the wrong side of it. Unexpectedly, there seemed to be too few brothers in the Watch to keep up with all the duties, and the forest had grown too close to the Wall.

There would be no fucking forest for at least two leagues north of the Wall come morrow. If any soul remained there despite the many warnings made over the last fortnight, Daemon cared not.

The forest would burn on the morrow, and the day after that they would be on their way home.

Chapter Text

It was as he climbed down from Caraxes that he realized he might have been overly optimistic. 

Neither Laena nor Laenor were waiting for him, and there was no sign of them coming either. The Watchmen were not giving him much attention either, possibly due to his early return not being quite as out of place now, after the other two dragons. Unease rose in him, and he grabbed the first Watchman he came across by an arm. “Where is my wife and good-brother?”

The Watchman stammered, terrified, likely by him. “In your rooms, my prince.”

Daemon frowned but released him. His steps towards their rooms were hurried. He almost ran through the door, only to find the main room empty. The door to the room he and Laena claimed was left open though, and he could hear sounds from it, so that is where he went.

He found both of them on the ground, their backs to him, Laenor’s hand running over Laena’s back comfortingly. Daemon’s heart stopped beating, a horrified gasp escaped him. “Laena.” His chest was gripped in a vice, and he could not breathe.

Laenor startled and turned his head to him with a grimace. “Thank the Gods you are here.” His voice was relieved. “I have no experience in this and my own stomach is starting to turn now, so I leave her in your care.”

He stared at his good-brother in incomprehension. What?

Laenor patted his sister’s back for the last time and rose to leave with a satisfied smile. 

Daemon stood rooted to the spot, fear and confusion warring in him for dominance. Laenor stopped by his side on his way out and patted him on his back as well. “You know, good-brother, I am quite content to let you enjoy these joys brought on by lying with women all by yourself.”

He opened his mouth to ask what it was that Laenor was rambling about when Laena retched and his good-brother disappeared with a last pat on Daemon’s back. Shaking his head, he sighed before joining her on the ground.

He held her while she retched pitifully and when she finished, she leaned into him, drained, and spoke with a weak voice. “I tell you now, never get sick in front of Laenor.”

That was mayhaps the last thing he expected to hear, and he startled. “What?”

“I came back just before him and was fighting sickness when he landed. The smell.” She sounded as if she might retch again. “My hand was covering my mouth, and I was clutching my middle, and he ran to me in panic. He thought I was injured and dying . I would have contained it, but the laughter .” Her face twisted as if in pain. “And he was just horrible. He kept talking about the contents of my stomach and food, and I could not stop retching!” She sounded miserable, but he was barely fighting laughter himself.

It was such a relief to hear her speak so. He had been sure something terrible had happened. If it was merely Laenor’s inexperience with expecting mothers, then all was well. Even if… “I am sorry about the smell. It is difficult to get used to.” And hopefully she would never need to. His hand was rubbing her back in soothing circles.

“I did eat only a light meal, as you said, and I think I truly would have made it without retching, were it not for my fool brother.”

He did laugh at that. “You must forgive him his inexperience.”

She scoffed into his chest. “Maybe on the morrow. Today I am vexed and miserable.”

A smile was still on his lips as he pressed a kiss to her hair, his words soft. “So Laenor knows now.”

He felt her nodding into his chest. “I do believe he said he forgave me then, but that you owed him new riding boots.”

He was smiling into her hair. “I think I will survive that.”

There was some discussion next morn whether Vhagar was to join them in the burning of the overgrowth or not due to Laena’s state the day before. However, it would seem that Laena herself lacked proper appreciation for her husband’s and her brother’s concerns and would not let herself be left behind once again. 

Perhaps it was for the best. The distance they would have to fly in their quest was such that they would not be able to return to Eastwatch that day. He was unsure how secure a woman unaccompanied might be, regardless of birth, dragon, or husband. They would aim to spend the night at Shadow Tower and retrace their path the next day, surveying the damage wrought and burning some more trees if needed. Under no circumstance did Daemon wish to spend a night on the wrong side of the Wall.

And so as they set out early in the morn, Daemon was in the lead, flying against the rising sun, out toward the open sea only to turn north and then back to line up for their flight over the forest. Caraxes slowed down under him during the turn, his wing beats slowing, and he frowned down at him as he slowed further despite silent commands. Daemon was about to look him over for injuries when Vhagar cut the turn before Caraxes, suddenly in the lead, and the Blood Wyrm’s wing beats turned furious to gain more speed. He laughed out loud at his vain dragon. No triumph over him would be allowed to Vhagar it would seem, not even in this. Seasmoke beat his wings frantically to keep up with the two dragons in the lead as they fought for dominance.

They slowed and glided lower as they reached the land, dragons breathing fire once over the forest, Seasmoke closest to the Wall, Vhagar in the middle and Caraxes northernmost. Their progress was at leisurely speed to allow for proper burning. Precision they did not bother with. It was a forest and trees were rather flammable. Whatever would not succumb to dragonfire, would likely perish in the resulting blaze regardless. 

It was yet another long day in the saddle, but there would not be too many more of those. It was well into the afternoon when they ran out of the forest and there was a river and mountains in front of them. They would follow the river to pass around the Wall again and would turn back east once below it. They would pass the first castle on the Wall, Daemon remembered, for only the second was garrisoned. Westwatch-by-the-Bridge was long abandoned, and they would find no shelter there. 

There was great eagerness in the dragons as they turned south, and they flew swiftly toward the Seven Kingdoms.

The garrison at Shadow Tower welcomed them grimly. They had been informed of their coming by a raven, but these men were unused to visitors unlike those at Eastwatch, and they let it be felt that they would prefer for it to remain that way. It truly was amusing just how little titles and even dragons meant in the places that rarely saw them.

Still, they were provided a meal and rooms and were therefore protected by the guest right even here. A night here would be even less enjoyable than the one at Castle Black, Daemon was sure, but they would do.

It had stormed in the night, which made them all only more miserable company in the morn. There had been little sleep to be found in the ancient castle with a raging storm rattling it. 

He would not be the least bit surprised if the dragons were short of temper when they came to them in the morn. No doubt, cold and wet were not the states they found themselves oft in at the same time. 

It was therefore with great amusement that he found the dragons tangled all together, Seasmoke somehow worming his way between Caraxes and Vhagar, the barely visible snout the only part of him not covered by a dragon. The nerve of him! Vhagar might be more tolerant of him due to their riders being siblings, but the Blood Wyrm was known for his standoffishness. It was no small wonder that Caraxes had not yet snapped his head off.

As they climbed back into saddles, giddiness came over Daemon. Just a flight back to Eastwatch now and, surely, they would be on their way home the next day. True, the survey would doubtless uncover more trees left to burn than they would have wished and those would be wet now too, but they would be well and truly done with the Wall, the Night’s Watch, and the Wildlings after that and the North as well in just a few days more. He could hardly wait.

They returned to their rooms at Eastwatch for their last night there just before dusk had set in, and they left it early next morn. There were few places Daemon had been glad to leave and never return to, but he could now confidently count all the manned castles on the Wall among them. 

A long journey back south awaited them, and they would spend the night in the wild at the southern shore of Long Lake to continue on to White Harbor the next day. Afterward, a decision whether to head for the Vale or the Riverlands would be made. But first, they would rest in the only true city in the North.

Chapter Text

Even knowing it was a prison, they still landed their dragons in the Wolf’s Den. It was still the best spot to keep three grown dragons in, and the fact that it was guarded served them well too. 

As it was, they were greeted once more by Ser Mortimer, who was even more deferential now that a prince of the blood was with them. They were offered an escort to the New Castle as well, and they accepted it with good grace.

The lord’s steward awaited them on the steps into the building to welcome them with a certain anxiousness easy to detect even on approach. He gave them a twitchy facsimile of a smile that had Daemon tensing by her side.

He bowed to them all deeply. “My prince, my lord, my lady, welcome to White Harbor and the New Castle! The rooms are being readied for you, please follow me to them.”

Laena’s eyebrows jumped up at the instruction. It was nowhere as late as the last time she had arrived with Laenor and the lord had greeted them in front of the full court even then. Now, they arrived again with the addition of a prince and after having defended the North from the Wildlings, and they were being ushered to their rooms instead. She restrained herself from biting her lip in consternation, just barely. 

Daemon did not bother to hide his displeasure at all. “Thank you for the warm welcome, whoever you are. However, it is considered customary for guests to be presented to the lord of the castle, is it not?” At least the valued guests usually were. Did Lord Manderly truly wish to insult them so, with her husband’s well-known volatile temper and three dragons on his doorstep?

The poor steward paled dramatically and broke out in a cold sweat at the implication, his voice trembled as he spoke. “My prince is of course correct, as he well knows. However, it is my sad duty to inform you that neither my Lord Manderly, nor his sons, are currently in residence to receive you. We have not been informed of your visit, you see, and they are away on business for some weeks now.”

Daemon’s lips thinned. “How about Lady Manderly then.”

The steward was entirely apologetic. “Lady Manderly has entered her confinement, her labors are expected to begin shortly.”

Her husband’s lips pressed together more firmly for a moment before the displeasure drained from his face entirely. The steward blinked at the change, and Laena almost did too. “In that case, far be it from us to intrude on Lord Manderly’s hospitality at such a time. May you perhaps direct us to a reputable inn?”

The steward winced, and only Laena’s firm upbringing kept her jaw from dropping and her gaping openly at her husband. He believed himself being slighted, and so traded a slight for an insult.

“I assure you, my prince, that is not necessary.” The steward did his best to salvage the situation.

Daemon’s smile was cold. “I assure you it is, my good man. It is difficult to believe a guest welcome when there is no one with the authority to receive him as such present.” And Laena blinked at that. Guest right. Her husband was unwilling to spend a night in a castle where they would not be formally granted the guest right. He would prefer a public inn.

A cold hand gripped her heart at the realization. He did not believe them safe. Was it White Harbor and their lack of reception at the New Castle that awoke that belief in him? Or had she merely not noticed it before?

She wished to tell him that they would be safe. That they had been safe with Laenor here. However, she no longer felt quite as sure of that. She stepped closer to her husband and took hold of his arm.

The steward had a defeated look about him, and it was a small wonder. “Let me escort you, then, my prince. I will make sure that you are well situated personally.”

Daemon inclined his head and let the man lead them and their escort to an inn. She had a suspicion they would not be spending quite as much time in White Harbor to rest as they had planned.

The city was all abuzz with the news of their presence and the Wildling threat in the Gift being extinguished, for now at least, when they ventured out into it the next morning. Mayhaps it earned them more friendliness among the city folk than otherwise, but it mattered little to Laena, for she clung to her husband’s arm, unwilling to part from him for even a step.

Still, they were away from their children for too long and if there was one way to start earning them their forgiveness, it would be presents. Preferably, presents of a kind they would be unlikely to see in King’s Landing. That was no easy task at the best of times, but both White Harbor and King’s Landing were port cities in Westeros not even too far from each other. While the city was quite famous for its silversmiths, she doubted jewelry would be much appreciated by the children.

They walked the wide cobbled streets, and she marveled at them. The city was nothing like King’s Landing. It was clean and well-ordered, and even smelled much better. Though all that could be considered to the good, toymakers it had few and far between and the choices proved to be rather… limited.

“ They are certainly fond of mermen and wolves. ” Daemon was not wrong. Where King’s Landing seemed quite overrun with dragons, there were more than enough toys fashioned after other animals as well. Here, there were wolves and mermen, a rare horse or a ship now and then, and toy soldiers, lots and lots of toy soldiers.

She examined an exquisitely carved set of wooden soldiers and turned to her husband. “ Do you think our daughters would like them? ”

He snorted. “ Baela certainly would. I am sure others will appreciate them as well. Though, let us buy a ship or two for your nephews as well. They are of Velaryon blood, after all. ”

She gave him a bright grin at that. That was true enough. She might not have had toy ships as a girl, but she had spent more than enough time on real ones.

When she turned back to the display, she frowned. “ Wolves as well, I think. They should all get wolves as well. ”

Her husband rolled his eyes. “ If you say so. ”

Her frown deepened as she looked at the shopkeeper in thought. “Do you have anything for babes?”

He seemed startled to be addressed in common all of a sudden. “Yes, there are the chewing toys.”

Her nose scrunched, and she saw Daemon’s eyebrows climb. “Chewing toys?”

The shopkeeper appeared taken aback. “Eh, yes, chewing toys. They are for when a babe is teething to chew on.”

She was mystified. She was a mother thrice over, and she had never heard of such a thing. “What would that serve?”

The man was blinking at her in confusion. “My lady? It… it… it would serve to relieve the discomfort and distract the babe. I assure you these are quite common in the North.”

She remembered the time when the twins started teething well enough. There had been no end to the crying and whimpering and screaming and, to her great shame, not all of it was done by the babes either. Even Daemon, for all his resilience had succumbed before long. The twins would chew on just about anything, mostly their own tiny fists and their parents’ or nurses’ fingers. There had certainly not been any toys for it. She didn’t even know such a thing existed! And Aemon was getting to that age… And then there would be the new babe too…

She pinned the shopkeep with a calculating gaze. “Tell me exactly how it works.” 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Daemon bring his hand to cover his face, but she paid him no mind.

She felt quite satisfied as they left the shop with their purchases to be delivered to the inn later that day.

Her husband sighed next to her once they were back in the sunshine. “I do believe you bought that poor man out of his wares.”

“Then he is not exactly a poor man, is he?” She laughed brightly, shaking her head in disbelief. Who knew there were so many toys for soothing babes!

“At least we can be certain we have something that we would not find in King’s Landing. Even if only for Aemon.” Daemon was not quite as enthused about the chew toys as she.

She patted his arm soothingly. “Do not worry. I am sure all will be received well.”

They decided to retrace the path Laena had taken with Laenor over the Vale, rather than avoid it, as would be Daemon’s wont. It was the shorter path and while they spent another night in the wild in the Fingers before parting from Laenor, by dusk they were near enough to King’s Landing for Daemon and Laena to continue on, confident in being able to find it safely even with little light.

It was surely already the hour of ghosts when they came to land in their little cove, Meleys greeting them grumpily.

Laena could not help the giddiness as they dismounted and relieved their dragons of their burdens, leaving the many bags just inside the tunnel to return for them in the morning. They were finally home.

The walk through the hidden passages was near endless, as all she wished to do was to see her babes and hold them and kiss them and not let go for a long time.

She had tried not to dwell on her abandonment of them, for she had had to go, but now that they were back, the guilt was gnawing at her insides again.

There was a great reluctance in her steps as they came to the nursery, once again startling the night guards. Her steps only slowed as Daemon headed for the girl’s room, and then stopped entirely as he pushed the door open.

Only when he turned back to her, brow raised in question, did she make herself move. She stood next to her husband and watched her daughters sleep, their toy dragons clutched in their grasps, for a long while. And only when he nudged her did she make herself go to them, caress their pale curls and kiss them softly so as not to wake them. When she looked at her husband again, her eyes were wet.

Chapter Text

Daemon had never appreciated just how comfortable his bed in the Red Keep was as he did that morning. He had slept in war camps, in the wild, in palaces and in inns, just about anywhere one could sleep. But nothing felt as good as waking up in his old bed in Maegor’s after entirely too much time spent at the Wall. It was not even the slightest bit chilly. It was soft. There was his wife pressed against him, soft and warm. It was glorious.

He buried his nose in Laena’s hair and basked in the peace, not needing to get up before even the break of dawn for the first time after a considerable amount of time. He had no idea what time of the day it was, and cared about it about as much.

The bed shifted. Laena lay in his arms, unmoving, still. His eyes opened cautiously and as they lifted, they encountered a toy dragon. Silverwing. Lifting his eyes just a bit more had him encounter a pair of wide violet eyes, latched onto him. Rhaena. She was suspiciously quiet and Baela was not in his line of sight.

He closed his eyes for a moment before coming to terms with his defeat and letting go of Laena gently, turning to the other side of the bed. And there was Baela, a toy dragon already on the bed, the girl herself frozen halfway up, staring at him expectantly. A corner of his lips lifted, and he raised a finger to his lips.

Her face lit up and she resumed her climb. He turned to Rhaena to beckon her up as well. She beamed as well. 

He shifted into a sitting position and spoke to them in a hushed voice. “Mind your mother. She needs her sleep.”

Then there was first Baela and next Rhaena in his arms, heads buried in his neck. Wonder of wonders, no toy dragon assaulted him. He hugged them to himself, kissing both their heads in turn. “I missed you two very, very much.” There was some quiet sniffling from the twins.

Rhaena’s voice was barely audible. “Silverwing missed you too.”

There was a long moment of silence from Baela before she spoke as well, only slightly louder. “Moondancer didn’t miss you at all. He is a big dragon, not a babe.” Rhaena clutched him harder.

His tone was chiding. “Now, now, I would hardly call Silverwing a babe. She is a big dragon too.” Rhaena nodded vigorously against his neck, and Daemon’s smile stretched.

“Were you two good little girls for your grandparents while we were gone?” Rhaena was nodding again.

Baela showed a lot less enthusiasm as she moved away for a bit to turn her big accusing eyes at him. “I was a good girl. But I am not little!”

He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. “Of course not, you are a big dragon. Like Moondancer.” A grin spread on her face as well, and her nod was spirited.

He looked down and to the side at the still sleeping Laena and sighed. “How about we all lay down and try to sleep some more?”

Baela pushed away from him immediately, and Rhaena was shaking her head against his neck. Not that he did not expect that, but he did hold some hope. “In that case, how about we get up so we don’t wake your mother?”

He spent quite some time in the nursery with the children before returning to get ready for the day to allow Laena as much rest as she needed. He broke fast with them, told them tall tales of their adventures at the Wall, and was forced to sing to each of the six toy dragons separately.

The day was well on the way toward midday when he finally left the nursery and headed for their chambers. He froze with his hand on the door as he realized that Laena was speaking with someone. As another voice sounded, he recognized the person for Rhaenys and grimaced. He had little wish to walk in in the middle of Laena giving her the happy news.

The guards gave him a strange look as he settled in to listen in and decide whether it was safe to enter.

“ …back together. I told the queen and Rhaenyra that Daemon called for Vhagar’s assistance in the North specifically. So if anyone inquires, he did that. ” Daemon’s eyebrows climbed.

Laena was clearly taken aback as well. “ Why would you do that? ”

“ Oh, you know how Rhaenyra just loves to make those little jabs at you, about your constitution, about your age, about Daemon not caring for his son or his name. I could just not let her go on and on anymore! ” Rhaenys sounded incensed, and he could hardly blame her. 

Somehow, Laena failed to mention all that. Suddenly, the remark about Aemon that she did bother to mention started to make a lot more sense, and his lips thinned. Rhaenyra was out of line. Considering his own conversation with her during the tourney, she likely did not even realize that there was a line. He was of half a mind to go to her right now.

He got lost in his anger and lost a track of conversation. Shaking his head, he unclenched his jaw and finally pushed the door open. It did not look like Laena was about to share her news with her mother anytime soon anyway. Judging by the relieved smile she gave him as he entered, she would likely prefer to skip telling her mother altogether.

As he approached Rhaenys, his tone was light. “ Cousin, it is good to see you again. The children report that they were no trouble to you, should we believe them? ” 

She gave him a sharp grin. “ Indeed, they gave us no trouble at all. Hard to believe them to be the children of you two troublemakers. ”

He brought a hand to his chest and gave her a wounded look. “ Cousin, we do not make trouble. It merely finds us well-prepared to receive it. ” 

Laena was laughing and Rhaenys was shaking her head with a smile, amused by his antics. “ You never let anything go unanswered, do you, cousin? ” He sobered at her words. No, he did not.

“ Would you mind it terribly, cousin, to let us change for the day? ” His head was inclined toward the door pointedly, and she rolled her eyes at him.

“ As long as you truly only change and do not cause any mischief. ” Her nonchalant shrug was rather annoying, he found, though her departure was not.

With Rhaenys safely gone, he turned to his wife. “ You did not tell her. ”

Laena’s smile and a shrug was bashful. “ The opportunity did not present itself. ”

He could not stop a laugh. “ Opportunity? What, did she fail to ask directly? ”

His wife glared at him and headed to the bedchamber in a huff.

Once presentable, he went out into the city to look for his good-father. Corlys was bound to have much more information on the state of things than Rhaenys would be aware of or willing to divulge freely. 

Much as he expected, he found him near the port offices, attending to the business of his own ships or the royal fleet; it mattered little to Daemon as he clapped him on the back. “Good-father, I have missed you so! Did you miss me too?”

The Lord of the Tides merely rolled his eyes at him with a headshake. “Not truly. Things go smoother and seas are calmer with you gone. 'Tis my vexing daughter I missed.” 

Daemon’s smile was ironic. “How unfortunate for you, then, that we come as a pair, good-father.”

Corlys chortled to himself, unbothered by Daemon’s poking.

“Whatever has you in such a good mood, good-father?” The question and his expression was entirely innocent as he batted his lashes at Corlys, hands folded in expectation.

“You are incorrigible, you know that, don’t you?”

He shrugged modestly. “'Tis one of my better qualities.” Then he turned serious again. “Truly, though, what has you in such high spirits?”

“One of your men in Lys sent word for you. And since you were known to be gone, it was brought to me.”

Daemon’s eyebrows climbed, and yet Corlys did not continue. “Well?” He made a prompting gesture with his hand as well to urge him on.

His good-father’s face was split by a wide grin. It was a most concerning sight. “I believe felicitations are in order.”

Dread spread in Daemon. How did he know? A frown passed over his face as he thought for a moment. Wait… How would anyone in Lys know? He turned a questioning gaze back on Corlys, his tone cautious. “Felicitations?”

The grin grew wider. “Indeed, your nephew got married.”

Blink. “My neph- Aegon?! Married? ” The boy was still thirteen, wasn’t he? On second thought… “In Lys?! ” 

He stared at Corlys, mouth agape. Surely, that was a jest. Daemon had long fought against the Lyseni in the Stepstones. They were more like to stab a member of his family in the back, than whatever this was.

The Lord of the Tides nodded gleefully. “To Marra Rogare, a girl freshly flowered.”

But… “ How?! Why?! ”

Corlys shrugged without a care. “The bridegroom was barely coherent for the ceremony, but he did his duty.” Duty? A grimace twisted the face of his good-father. “In front of witnesses, apparently.”

Daemon closed his eyes in pain and extended his hand. “I need that message.”

He truly hoped that was a lie. That all of this was a lie. He wondered whether Corlys forgot or merely dismissed that part of the news. Daemon had many enemies, and many of them in Lys. Rogares were on the rise and while they presented themselves as bankers, they had made their gold in the flesh trade. Flesh trade, which was quite interrupted by the war in the Steps, likely costing them a fair sum. As if the Greens needed more gold with the backing of Oldtown and the Lannisters.

Chapter Text

He found himself in front of his brother’s chambers soon enough, only to be denied entrance. Again. He had been gone for over a moon’s turn, and yet he was not being admitted into Viserys’ presence still. Well, that was too bad. He would not be sharing the news with anyone else. At least not for now, then.

However, this brought up some questions as well. “Who is allowed to see the king, then?”

The Kingsguard shrugged. Was that Thorne? “The queen and the Hand.”

Daemon’s brows lowered. “How about his children? His cousin? Anyone else?”

A headshake. That was all. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are you telling me that no one other than the queen and the Hand saw the king in over a moon ?”

There was a beat of hesitation before he was given an answer. “The Grand Maester also comes. And the servants, of course.”

“How do you even know he is alive, then?”

The knight plainly wondered whether to answer him. “The king is awake. We can hear him talking.”

And he wondered at that. For the knights to hear him out here would mean that he had to be talking in the main chamber, rather than the bedchamber, from whence he would have to shout to be heard. Which meant that the king was moving around, likely on his own, and still not admitting visitors. Why?

He closed his eyes and wished for patience. “Please, inform the king that it is imperative that I speak to him.” He paused. “I have news of his son.” The knight startled as Daemon’s eyes opened to glare at him. “That I will not impart to anyone else but him.” Let the Hand and the queen chew on that.

The Kingsguard did not even move. Very well. Daemon nodded to himself and left. They would not know then. Not until the Hand’s own people let him know. He wondered how well that was going for him, with no Master of Whisperers still. The little pettiness lifted his spirits immensely.

Heading toward the offices of the Master of Laws, his offices, he wondered whether he was out of time to stall with the stupid law. Now that he was back, he would be expected to finally do something about it. At the very least, he would need to pretend to start to care about the five laws the Hand gave him to record.

Reaching his desk, he would have sworn out loud were it not for his choking. Fucking hells. It was a lot more than just five laws now, it would seem. Truly, had there been nothing else, the Hand was like to get killed for this alone.

Cursing under his breath as he gathered the many, many laws left out for him, he wondered whether he should bother finding reference texts for them as well. Whether they were merely additional distractions the Hand meant to bless him with to hide the change or means of punishing him for the delay. Sighing, he swore again as he realized it did not matter at all. He would have to go through all of them anyway.

He started to wish he could go burn some more Wildlings.

Papers gathered, he left the office behind him in a dark mood and almost ran down a servant. “Pardon, my prince. Lord Hand requests your presence in the throne room.” 

Oh, joy.

The Hand only ever wished for Daemon’s presence when there was a high chance of causing him discomfort, embarrassment, or unhappiness, preferably all of them put together. Considering it was the throne room he was requested in, the Hand was bound to be sitting on the fucking throne . The throne his ancestors wrought and bled for. A snarl twisted his face, and he had not even seen the Hand yet.

The throne room was quite full, and his brows climbed to see it. In his experience, the court life tended to quieten in times of a king’s absence. He smoothed his face at seeing the crowd, and then barely maintained it as he fought against a rising snarl when he noticed the falcon of Arryn at the front. He held still at the back of the hall and understood why it was that the Hand wished him there.

Few and far between were the people who had humiliated him as Jeyne Arryn had and lived to tell the tale. This tale had been spoken of with great glee by all his enemies. He hated the Vale, but after the death of his Bronze Bitch, he hated no one person there as he did Lady Arryn. To think that Rhaenyra had sent his daughter to her… It brought his blood to boiling as little else.

He forced his eyes shut to calm himself. Rhaena was here, in the Red Keep, with him. No one was taking her away. No one was turning her against him. He would not let them, and neither would her mother. Her mother, who was alive . That thought finally brought him some measure of calm, and he opened his eyes.

Corlys had agreed to meet him in the cove to discuss whatever needed to be discussed after his long absence, and he spun on his heel to go there. He had had no mind to focus on the questions he had intended to ask after the news from Lys. That was one quick wedding for someone who he was sure had been of no mind to marry before his flight from King’s Landing. Surely, that would be time better spent than to wait here on whatever humiliation fucking Otto Hightower meant to visit upon him.

He was too slow to leave, for the hated voice already called after him. “Prince Daemon, how kind of you to finally join us.” As he turned back reluctantly, the Hand was talking to the Valemen again.
“I am sure the prince will gladly answer any concerns you have, Lady Arryn. He is, after all, the King’s Master of Laws.” His smile appeared genuine, which meant Daemon disliked it immediately.

The look the lady sent Daemon’s way was full of loathing. “I would prefer to speak to the king, all the same, my Lord Hand.” Funny, so would he.

The Hand’s smile was wearing thin. “Unfortunately, as I already informed you, that is not possible, my lady. I assure you that your concerns can be addressed by Prince Daemon safely.” 

He did wonder what the Hand’s game was. Certainly, he would not entrust any concern he cared for to Daemon, yet he sent Jeyne Arryn to him. Any concern of hers would be of no interest to Daemon. Unless she was dying of a wasting illness. That he would welcome gladly, though he doubted there would be a need to talk to the king about it.

She seemed ready to argue some more, but the Hand precluded her from doing so. “We have spent enough time already beleaguering this matter, my lady. Let us proceed with other court matters. Other petitioners have the right to be heard as well, would you not agree, Lady Arryn?”

She ceded her place with grace, and he supposed he should admire her for that, but he did not. Were he Daemon, he would have found himself spat in the face.

He turned again to finally leave the throne room behind. Whatever she wanted could wait indefinitely. 

“Prince Daemon!” He cursed. She followed him.

He stopped and did not turn to face her as he spoke. “My lady, I have other matters to attend to. If you have anything to discuss, I suggest you send a messenger and arrange a meeting at a more convenient time.” And he was off again.

Undeterred, her quick steps followed him. “I do not wish to bother you either, my prince, I assure you. I wish to speak to the king. The matter is urgent.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, truly? Why did you not just say that to Lord Hand, then? Let me show you right to the King’s chambers.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm, but he was headed to Maegor’s either way. She could be turned away by the Kingsguard more effectively than by him. It would be more satisfying too to see the self-important chit learn her lesson.

Startled by his words, she followed in silence. He did not bother slowing his steps or attempting a conversation.

Once in front of his brother’s chambers, face-to-face with the same Kingsguard knights that had denied him entrance but a short while ago, he gestured to the door. “There you go, my lady, the King’s chambers. Do announce yourself.” He gave her a sharp smile. “Please.”

She was giving him a strange look full of suspicion, and her tone was cautious. “I would prefer it if you did.” There was a pause before she added “my prince” with great reluctance.

His lips pressed together in an attempt to suppress a laugh, and he addressed the knights. “Lady Jeyne Arryn is here to see the king. She claims the matter is urgent.”

The Kingsguard knight gave him a long-suffering sigh. “As my prince well knows, since we just had this conversation, none but the queen and the Hand are allowed in to see him.” 

The lady was enraged. “I have to speak with him!”

The knight’s head was shaking in refusal. “You cannot.”

Her eyes widened dramatically, and her fists clenched at her sides. “I am the head of a Great House and I demand to see the king!”

The knight spoke through gritted teeth. “You cannot.”

“You cannot bar me from doing so! I. Am. A. Head. Of. A. Great. House!” Daemon was enjoying this about as much as he had suspected he would.

The knight straightened to his full height and looked down his nose at her. “I can and I just did. The king is not to be disturbed.”

It clearly took great effort on the part of Lady Jeyne to master herself at the knight’s words, but she eventually did and straightened herself to her full height as well, raising her chin in defiance. “I will go speak to the Princess of Dragonstone now and when I return, you will regret this.” There was a clear threat in her voice.

The knight’s lips twisted in an ironic smile. “I am sure both of you stomping your feet will be quite intimidating, my lady, but my orders remain the same.” 

Lady Jeyne was seething. “The Princess of Dragonstone-”

The interruption was rude, but not unexpected to Daemon at this point. “Is not allowed in to see the king either.” 

The surprise caused the lady to flounder as she gaped at the knight. Then, she turned her wide eyes to Daemon, who shrugged at her with eyebrows raised in amusement and once more turned to leave her behind.

She ran after him. Again. “Wait!” He had no intention to do so and continued on his way.

He tore into their chambers, intent on closing the door in her face, only to freeze in the doorway. His wife was smiling beatifically, their son in her arms, Rhaenyra standing over her with her lips and fists clenched in fury. Jeyne Arryn ran into his back and Daemon stumbled forward a step. 

Gods have mercy.

Chapter Text

Laena was only too happy to have her talk with her mother interrupted by her husband. Whatever his opinion on telling her might be, Laena knew her mother. Rhaenys had had no chance to coddle her when she had been expecting her previous children. Given the chance now, she would be entirely overbearing, especially with Rhaenyra acting the way she had been.

She was a dragonrider for goodness’ sake! She just returned from fighting Wildlings at the Wall! She did not need her mother to mother her!

Unfortunately, for all her mother’s assumptions, Daemon truly only wished to change and leave for business with her father in the city, so Laena was left to visit the children and beg their forgiveness alone. Gaining it did not prove as difficult as she had expected it to be. Though it did involve eating her midday meal with them, reading quite a few stories, braiding and re-braiding quite a few braids, and playing games until she was kindly but firmly asked to leave the children to their afternoon naps.

Her smile was bittersweet as she bade them sweet dreams. Such was the life of a highborn mother. Her children’s lives were governed by nurses, and she was merely a tolerated visitor in their domain. Still, she managed to sneak Aemon out of their care, the sweet babe that he was, recently fed and therefore sleeping peacefully. There were secrets and hopes to be shared between the two of them.

Returning to their chambers, the guards forestalled her before entering, gazes apologetic. “The Princess of Dragonstone is within, my lady.”

Her eyebrows rose. Well, she had had a few hours of peace already, it was not as if she needed any more, was it?

She entered with a welcoming smile on her face. “Good-sister, what an unexpected pleasure. Please, make yourself at home. I hope I did not leave you waiting for me too long.” 

Rhaenyra was seated at a table, her back to the door and her arms folded under her breasts, and Laena’s eyes swept the chamber as she joined her and took a seat facing her. The door to the bedchamber was cracked open. She had left it closed. Too long, then.

“You must not trouble yourself, good-sister, I came to see my uncle.”

Amusement sparked in her. “I am sorry to inform you that he went to attend to some business with my father out in the city.”

Rhaenyra’s countenance was smug as she raised a questioning brow. “Oh? It must have been quickly attended, then. I heard his voice in Maegor’s but a short while ago. I thought to wait for him here.” Her eyes pierced Laena. “In private.”

Laena gave her a sweet smile. “You are welcome to it. There can be no more private place than here, with my husband and I. Shall I call for tea while we wait for him?”

Rhaenyra’s smile was thin. “That will not be necessary. I mean to speak to him alone.”

A shocked gasp escaped Laena, and she made her eyes wide as she stared at the princess. “But that would be wildly inappropriate! Goodness, the scandal if anyone was to learn of it! Why, even with me here, some might still find a cause to talk.” Laena’s head was shaking sadly at the foolishness of some people.

It was no surprise at all that Rhaenyra failed to heed the warning and snarled. “Dragon cares little for the bleating of sheep.”

Laena’s eyes and tone were earnest. “Oh, good-sister, but there is such scandalous talk of you already. We must protect you from more evil tongues wagging.”

Rhaenyra must have finally clued in on Laena not letting her near her husband unattended, for she shifted tack with a laugh. “You are, of course, correct, good-sister. I used to spend so much time with my uncle. It never seemed to matter that he was married, and I grew used to it. Yet now, he has little time for me and fun among all his duties.” Her look turned bashful. “I came to ask him to join me for a ride on dragonback. It has been such a long time since we last flew together.”

And it would be an eternity before they did again if Laena had anything to say about it. She gave her good-sister a sweet smile. “I worry that would not be such a good idea. Vhagar has grown quite possessive of Caraxes. She might not take too well to an unknown dragon demanding his attention.”

She received a sharp smile in return. “I must admit I care little for the feelings of your mount, good-sister.”

Laena gave a sad sigh at her words and worried at her lip a little. “It’s just… I worry for you, good-sister.” Her earnest gaze was back. “Vhagar’s mood is unpredictable when it comes to Caraxes and Syrax is so small she might mistake her for a tasty morsel if she feels sufficiently provoked.” She gave her an innocent smile. “You do understand, don't you, good-sister?”

Judging by the speed with which Rhaenyra jumped to her feet, fists clenched, rage in her face, she did.

Whatever Rhaenyra was ready to spew in response was forever lost as the door was thrown open by her husband, only for him to freeze in the doorway and then stumble upon the sight of them. Or not. There appeared to be someone behind him.

He seemingly collected himself and smiled at her. “Wife.” He then took a few more steps into the room, turning slightly to raise an arm to the door before speaking to Rhaenyra, who was still facing Laena, glaring at her. “Niece, this is-”

“Unexpected, I know. I wished to speak with you alone, but your wife insists it would be inappropriate.” She rolled her eyes. “I want you to dismiss the bastards from your household.”

Daemon startled and turned toward her fully, his arm dropping. He was taken unawares and his words were slow as a result. “You mean my pages. My wife’s nephews.”

She rolled her eyes again. “Let us cease with this lie, at least in private. We all know Laenor incapable of producing children.”

Laena’s mouth dropped open in outrage. 

Her husband was the one rolling his eyes in annoyance at that. “Addam and Alyn are his. As I said before, I confirmed it with their mother. She never even saw Corlys and Addam has the look of Laenor at that age.”

“I want them gone!” 

Laena finally found her words. “And I want them to stay!” Daemon gave her an unimpressed look.

“How lovely. They were entrusted into my care as my wards, and I promised their mother they would have a place in my household. If they must leave, my household leaves. I leave.” His arms were folded across his chest as he issued a clear challenge.

Silence was his answer, and it seemed enough to him as he nodded to himself.

“Great. Now, how is it that the king is still not receiving visitors? It has been over a moon.”

Rhaenyra shrugged carelessly. “How would I know?”

Daemon was not taking the conversation well. “How would you-? Rhaenyra, you are his heir! You should be the first to inquire after his health!” He shut his eyes as if in pain and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You did try to speak with him while he’s been sequestered, did you not?”

“Whatever for? The Hand and Alicent both say he is not to be disturbed, that he needs peace to recover.”

Daemon swore foully. “And you believed them?”

She shrugged again. “I did try to visit not long ago, if you must know, but was denied entrance on the king’s orders.”

Meeting her husband’s gaze, she could guess at what he was thinking. She had been played and likely let the king be turned against her.

Laena’s gaze dropped to Aemon. She could scarce believe that a child could hold such indifference towards their parent. Considering her mother’s fate and Rhaenyra’s marriage, mayhaps the rift was understandable. Still, she hoped her children would never see her so.

Daemon threw papers in his hands on the table, pulled up a chair for himself, and dropped into it, shoulders slumped, rubbing his face. “What about the Small Council, then? Were there any matters brought to it?”

Rhaenyra laughed, and Laena could already tell that was about the last thing her husband wanted to hear. “Why would I know about matters of the Small Council? I am not on it, remember, uncle?”

His jaw was clenched tight as he replied. “We agreed just before I left that in the King’s absence, his Heir would be representing him in the Small Council meetings.”

It was Laena that had the answer. “Mother says that there were no Small Council meetings while we were gone, Daemon.”

“Fucking Hightower.” He threw himself back, and collapsed in the seat completely, letting his head fall back to stare at the ceiling.

“Uncle-”

“Leave.”

“What?”

“Leave, Rhaenyra. Get out of here before I say or do something I might regret.”

There was startled silence at his words. Then, Rhaenyra left in a huff.

Laena stared at the door as it slammed shut in confusion. Hadn’t there been someone?

Her gaze returned to her husband as he rubbed his eyes some more. Was he crying? “Fucking hells. We might be headed for a fresh war with the Triarchy, and Hightower staged himself a little coup. And she just let him. So much for using her as a check on the Green’s power. And she worries about Addam and Alyn .”

Not crying then.

Her tone was cautious. “ War with the Triarchy? ”

His hands dropped from his face, but his eyes remained closed. “ Mayhaps just wishful thinking. It looks like my fool nephew is in the hands of the Lyseni. Gods only know how they mean to use him. ” He paused before finishing. “Though, I would bet on them wanting to crown him and rule through him. ”

She hummed in thought as she considered his words. Still, her gaze drifted to the door. “ Say, wasn’t there someone with you when you came in? ”

His face twisted in pain. “ Fucking hells. ”

Chapter Text

He was adrift. His mind was teetering between the need to know and the safety of ignorance. As long as he did not continue, his brother would remain alive. If he pushed the hidden door open, and he was not there or not breathing…

The break in their relationship was irreparable, he was sure of that. He had been pushing down the many hurts for too long, but Mysaria and then his own brother had ensured that he would never be able to do so again, that he would never be able to convince himself that forgiveness was his duty. After all, Viserys had never asked for it, never felt that anything he had ever done required it.

Their relationship had long become unequal in the love given and the love received in turn. And yet… for all Daemon wished to make Viserys pay, he did not wish death upon him. Even having lived in a world and time in which his brother had died, he could not bring himself to acknowledge that he may have lost him already once more, that he may lose him again soon.

His hand rested on the lever that would open the door as he dithered. To go on or to turn back. No one but him would know if he turned craven. The Kingsguard knight had said the king lived. Should that not be enough to make him believe? But the knight had been one of the Greens, and who knew how much further had the Hand’s malignant influence spread now that so much had been changed, was changing still?

He pulled down the lever and the stone wall cracked open.

The hour of ghosts was upon them, and he felt a ghost himself as he stepped through into the King’s bedchamber. There was little light to see by, but it was enough to see a form in the bed. There was no sweet smell of death and rot. Were he quiet enough, mayhaps he would hear a breath not his own. 

A relieved breath left him. He took quiet steps closer to the bed. There was a carafe and a goblet on the nightstand, and he reached out for it to bring it to his nose and smell it. Dreamwine. To help sleep, not keep addled. There were no other potions in the immediate vicinity of the king’s bed. 

He scowled in thought. “If they are not keeping you drugged, why are they keeping you under lock and key?” His voice, though quiet, still rang out in the silent room, and he winced at his slip.

There was a cough from the bed and he stepped away in alarm. “Ah, I wondered how long it would take for someone to break into my chambers.” Viserys coughed some more. “I must say I am not surprised it is you. Though, I am disappointed that it took you this long, brother. ”

Daemon looked at the king warily. He had not called for the guards yet. That was good, surely, for he had not taken Dark Sister with him for his nighttime stroll through the secret passageways. “You are alive. You are conscious. Why are all your visitors barred still, then?”

Viserys chuckled. “Is that what you feared? That I am dead?”

He kept his mouth shut.

An exasperated sigh sounded from the bed at Daemon’s stubborn silence. “I am tired, brother. And old. The maesters decreed that I needed some peace and quiet to recover, so some peace and quiet I got. At first, when I was at my worst, only my Hand and Alicent were allowed in. I could still hear first you and then even Rhaenys arguing with the guards to see me.” A weak sigh escaped him. “But never my children.”

Daemon stared at him in the long pause at a loss. That told him nothing.

The king took a rattling breath. “And so, I declared that no one but Alicent and Lord Hand were allowed to see me. I promised myself that I would not venture out until one of them cared enough to fight to see me.” He paused again and continued in a decidedly subdued tone. “Rhaenyra came by once, almost a fortnight ago. She was turned away, but she did not protest. None of the others have done even that much. Even you stopped arguing for the longest time.”

That would have been because he had been gone. A fury entered him at his foolish brother’s behavior.

“This has been a fucking test? Of who cares for you the most?” He was supposed to be the fucking King, not a damned child!

His brother was taken aback at the words. “Well, no. At least, not at first. I did need to recover. And I do appreciate the peace and quiet. It has been such a relief to have this solitude and time to reflect.” He paused in thought. “Though, I am running out of books. Say, would you bring me some Valyrian poetry? Whatever you like best, brother.”

Rendered mute by shock and disbelief, he stared at his brother some more.

Otto fucking Hightower was quietly seizing power over the realm, changing longstanding laws at a fucking whim, and his brother was testing the love his family had for him. Fucking unbelievable. He closed his eyes in pain. And the fucking Triarchy.

“No, I will not bring you books. There are matters that require the attention of the King. You cannot put them off indefinitely. Do you even have any idea what is going on?” He was aghast. This could not be happening in truth, could it?

He saw Viserys’ hand wave around in the darkness. “Like I said, peace and quiet. I finally have time for things I have had no time for due to my many duties. Otto assures me he has everything well in hand.”

A snort escaped him, and then he was laughing, great peals of laughter that almost brought him to his knees. He fought to catch a breath as he finished, bringing his hand to his mouth to prevent more from escaping. Well in hand, indeed.

Only when he deemed himself calmed sufficiently, he spoke. “I was gone for over a moon’s turn, fighting Wildlings in the North with my wife and her brother. Your eldest son forced himself on and killed a girl, a nurse in Rhaenyra’s employ, and then flew away in the night on Sunfyre. He has been gone even longer than I.” His voice carried nothing but contempt as he carried on. “I hope you have enjoyed your peace and quiet, while the realm crumbled around you, Your Grace.” 

And then he spun on his heel and was gone, back into the hidden passage. It was a good thing he had not taken Dark Sister after all.

He did not even care where it was his steps were taking him, walking in an impotent fury. Every time. Every time he had thought that his brother could not have been more of a fool, the fool had gone and proven him wrong. Every damn time.

Aenys had been a weakling of a king, ignoring rebellion, letting himself be bullied, and even chased out of King’s Landing. Viserys was his second coming. For all that Maegor’s name was cursed, there would have been no Seven Kingdoms still without him.

He found himself in the cove with the dragons, near running to the water gently lapping at the shore. A long scream of frustration left him as he sank to his knees.

As the scream faded and the night was silent and still again, his unseeing gaze was fixed on the waves fighting to reach him before his eyes rose to the horizon, a dark hollowness growing in his chest.

Daemon had been a fool himself. He had seen weakness in Viserys long ago and had done nothing about it. Now it was too late.

Worse, he had been a blind fool. He had been blind to the faults of his niece. For all that he had believed her broken by her losses, that could not have been true. Her behavior now had proven him wrong again. There had been something broken in her for a long time, and he had chosen not to see it.

After he had returned from Pentos with his daughters and Laena’s coffin, he had been numb with grief, directionless, feeling his own sanity, his very humanity, slipping away. He could not have afforded that. Not with two daughters who had had only one parent left. Rhaenyra had offered him a direction, and he had grasped it desperately, greedily. Never looking back, for therein lay damnation.

The new babe would be born around the time Aegon had been. They had spent nine years on Dragonstone together with their children, ignoring the outside world, and letting themselves be outmaneuvered by the Greens. They had been playing make-believe. That was what they had done. What Daemon had done. He!

And then his brother had died, and the war had started, and all of their carefully ignored cracks had been exposed and widened and deepened.

After all that, how was Daemon even any different from them?

Had he merely set himself up to fail again?

His unblinking eyes stared at the horizon for the longest time.

Was there even anything left of him but cracks?

He wished he had chosen ignorance.

Chapter Text

The horizon was turning lighter as he stared at it, and his head dropped in defeat. There was nothing he could do to change the past. Or Viserys. Or Rhaenyra. And yet while Viserys might not be insensible, he was senseless and the realm could not be left in his hands any more than it could be left to his children.

The way things stood, he wondered whether it should be left to any one person at all. Mayhaps the Seven Kingdoms were simply not meant to be united under one ruler. For what other reason would everything threaten to fall apart the moment one’s back was turned? There had been just two good kings in over a century. The Conqueror was great. Aenys and Maegor were terrible. Jaehaerys, for all that he was a terrible father and grandfather, was good. Viserys was on par with Aenys. Viserys’ children Daemon knew to be a combination of Maegor and Aenys, both.

Mayhaps the lack of good monarchs was the indication that the Iron Throne was not meant to be. The Targaryens were foreigners in this land. They were foreigners in any land. Mayhaps they should have perished in Valyria with all the other dragonlords. Their flight west merely delayed the inevitable. For the first time ever, Daemon cursed Daenys the Dreamer and her fool father.

Sighing, he shook his head at his thoughts. Wasn’t that the reason he had been sent back? To change things? To prevent the realm from descending into war and chaos? To prevent so many dragons being lost in senseless fighting?

An ironic smile twisted his lips. To stop the threat coming from the deep north from ending the world of men. After all, if the Gods seem to be taking interest in his actions, mayhaps even the most absurd of prophecies can come true. Mayhaps there will be a promised prince to save them all, and he need not do anything at all but wait for him. That would be nice. Daemon deserved some peace and quiet too.

He stood up resolutely. Yes, he did. The morning was not quite there yet. He could still go to his bed, lie down next to his wife and create his own island of tranquility.

None of this was his responsibility. He was just the Rogue Prince. He was meant to be the unruly brother of the King. Wild and dangerous and unpredictable. A man to be feared and not to be trusted. What did he even care about what happened to the Kingdoms? 

He strode back to the entrance to the tunnels with determination. The traveling bags they had left there the night before were still there. His determination faltered at the sight, his shoulders slumped. They had not even had the time to give the children their gifts yet. He took some of the bags with him. The armor and clothes could wait some more.

Laena was sleeping on her side, her back to him, when he found himself in their bedchamber at last. He crawled into the bed in his salt stained clothes and pressed himself to her, holding her close, breathing her in. Something in him loosened and as he closed his eyes, his mind was blessedly blank.

He awoke to the sound of muffled, bright voices. There was light around him and a fading warmth where his wife was supposed to be. He opened his eyes and eyed the empty spot with regret. Closing his eyes, he focused on the sound. Laena and the girls. His brows furrowed slightly as he listened. The boys too, apparently.

He rolled over to look at the bags he had brought in and sighed. Now was as good a time as any, he supposed. He rubbed his face as his feet hit the floor, just sitting for a moment longer. He needed some cold water first to wake properly. And he needed to change. He definitely needed to change. There was a dull ache behind his eyes, and he rubbed his face some more. So much for the island of tranquility.

When he emerged from the bedchamber into the main chamber, he felt the slightest bit more human, only to encounter chaos.

The chamber was covered in paper. Wide-eyed and slightly harassed-looking, Laena was clutching Aemon to herself, clearly having retreated as far as possible from whatever was happening. Daemon himself was quite wide-eyed as he stared at the children fighting and squealing and laughing. There seemed to be a fortress being raised out of chairs and pillows. There were things flying through the air, and he ducked on instinct as one of the things flew in his direction to harmlessly hit the door behind him. He stared at it where it fell. It was a ball of paper. Where did they get all the paper?

His eyes widened more as realization hit him, and his gaze moved to the table where he had left the laws he had picked up the day before from his office. The papers that were not there anymore.

He slid down to sit cross-legged on the floor, back against the bedchamber door, and raised a hand to his mouth to muffle his laughter. Well, at least something good came of them. Hopefully nothing truly important to the realm was among them. Considering all of them would have come directly from the Hand without the previous consideration by the King or the Small Council, the very idea seemed laughable.

The children were entirely immersed in their play and did not even notice him sitting there. They likely would have gone on without noticing him indefinitely were it not for the door to the corridor opening and Ser Steffon Darklyn walking in. The children did not pause in their play, and one of the projectiles bounced off of his armor. Daemon continued to laugh quietly.

The Kingsguard did his best to present his office with dignity among the laughing and squealing children. “My prince, the King requests your presence in his chambers.”

Daemon did not bother rising from the floor as he shrugged his shoulders with a smile. “Tell him I am busy.”

The Kingsguard’s brow rose in disbelief as he looked around himself pointedly. 

Daemon’s smile widened in glee. “Busy enjoying some peace and quiet.”

Ser Steffon choked.

Daemon’s gaze shifted pointedly to the door. “Do go on.”

The stunned Kingsguard blinked at him for a few moments, only moving once a paper ball hit the side of his face, startling him. Then, he bowed his head and left hastily.

Daemon’s attention turned back to the children. Laena made her way to him cautiously along the walls and slid down to the floor next to him, giving him a concerned look. “Are you well, husband?”

He gave her a gentle smile and leaned down to kiss Aemon’s downy head. “Yes, I am now.” He leaned over to kiss her lips as well. Much better now. “Say, how about we make ourselves another day in the gardens?”

Her concerned look shifted into something softer as she leaned over as well to kiss him and caress his face. “Only if you promise I can walk this time.” Her smile was mischievous as her eyes turned towards the children. “I feel sorry for the maids that will have to tidy this up.”

Daemon hummed. “I feel not sorry at all for the Hand’s scribes that will need to write up those laws again.” 

She turned her horrified eyes at him. “Laws?!”

He shrugged happily in response.

They let the children tire themselves out before venturing with them out to the gardens. Ser Steffon did not return, and Daemon did not truly expect him to.

They laid down the blankets themselves by the heart tree. Daemon and Laena sat with their backs leaning against the tree, Baela and Rhaena crawling up his body to settle themselves against his chest and Addam, Alyn and Naerys sitting cross-legged opposite him, chins in their hands, staring expectantly. 

He smiled at all of them. “So, what would you like to hear first?” There were no toy dragons here, so there was one thing he knew it would not be, and he rejoiced at that.

Addam and Alyn frowned in thought, and it was Addam that spoke first. “How about who you are named for?”

Daemon’s smile stretched. “I was named for the Master of the Ships and the Hand of the King, Lord Daemon Velaryon. He was the uncle of my grandfather, King Jaehaerys. My mother was named for his sister Alyssa Velaryon, my great-grandmother.” He grinned at them. “But did you know there was also Lord Daemon Velaryon, Master of the Ships to the Conqueror? He died before the Conquest concluded, but his son, Corlys, became the first Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. That is who your grandfather is named for.”

Their eyes lit up in admiration. Their grandfather was a great man in their eyes regardless, but it was important for them to know that there were other great men of their lineage as well.

Much of the time in the garden was spent with Daemon talking to the children about the years of King Jaehaerys’ regency, Alyssa Velaryon and her brother, the Hand. He did his best to simplify the matters for them and avoid any unpleasantness regarding Alyssa’s second marriage. However, that marriage was how Rhaenys’ mother came to be, and so they needed to understand those connections as well. Family ties among the Targaryens and Velaryons were close, but there were other ties that had to be acknowledged too, otherwise an insult might be perceived where none was intended.

Servants brought them cold cuts and cheeses and fruits for their midday meal. Rhaenys joined them as they ate and sat by her grandsons with a smile. As Addam leaned against her and Alyn laid his head in her lap, she provided yet more stories, stories of her childhood and of mother and father, the man Daemon’s son was named for. 

As his daughters’ heads rested on his chest while they napped and their mother’s sleepy head rested against his shoulder and he stared at a softly smiling Rhaenys, he could not help but marvel at how much the day had improved.

Chapter Text

There was a message for him left with the guards at their door when they returned from the gardens. It was thankfully not from his brother. Mayhaps not surprisingly, it was from Lady Jeyne Arryn asking to arrange a meeting with the Master of Laws in his offices the next day. A smirk appeared on his face upon reading it. Would you look at that. Some people did learn.

Unfortunately, it also meant that he had had his peace and quiet for all of a day and would have to return to his duties and plans entirely too soon, not nearly enough to provoke Viserys to action. He resisted rolling his eyes at his own thoughts, just barely.  On the bright side, the king might be running out of books soon, so boredom may achieve what duty and Daemon could not. Unless, of course, the good Lord Hand managed to procure good Valyrian poetry for him. And oh, would Daemon just love to see the Hand try to do that.

The thought as well as the fate of the laws the Hand tried to distract him with kept him in a rather positive mood even as he waited for the Lady of the Eyrie to appear. He lounged in his chair with a pleasant smile on his face as he amused himself with various recommendations he would give the Hand if he dared ask for a recommendation.

The amusement died a swift death as the lady was announced, two knights flanking her. One of the knights bore the colors of House Arryn, the other… The other was a blasted Royce. Well, he hoped whatever she wished to speak of was not of too much importance to her. He would so hate to disappoint her too deeply. The thought was enough to keep the smile on his face when he rose to greet her as she paused in the doorway.

“My lady, good morrow. Please, come in and sit. Let us talk of what it is that troubles you.”

She gave him a well-practiced smile in return. “My prince, thank you. However, there is someone I believe should be included in our meeting as well. I do hope you do not mind. It seems we share the same concern.”

An uncertainty crept up on Daemon. He was being ganged upon, and he did not like it one bit. Still, he kept the smile in place. “Of course not, my lady. The more, the merrier.” He wondered whether his voice sounded as false to her as it did to him.

Mayhaps not, for her smile widened as she stepped into the room, her knights following her, freeing the door for another man. “Then let me introduce Ser Elmo Tully of Riverrun, here on behalf of his grandfather, Lord Grover Tully, Lord Paramount of the Trident. He arrived in King’s Landing yesterday to speak to the King on the same issue I wish to.”

He blinked. There was not much that the Vale shared with Riverlands as far as he was aware, other than their dislike of the Westerlanders. He doubted that was the topic they wished to discuss with him, though he would be only too happy to indulge them if it was.

“Well met, Ser Elmo.” He had never met the man before, the Riverlands mostly declaring for Rhaenyra, though Riverrun itself remained unaligned.

He gestured for them to take a seat across from him as he seated himself again. “What is it that troubles both the Eyrie and Riverrun so?”

Lady Jeyne did not wish to waste any time, apparently, for she leaned forward with her hands folded as if in a plea. He gave a mental snort. As if. Still, she hesitated when it came to speaking, nibbling on her lip. 

She started with a sigh. “I truly wish that I could speak to the King about this.” There was a frown on her face. “I was privately advised that the Hand would not be most receptive on the matter.” She cast her gaze his way. “You are the Master of Laws, though. And this does pertain to one.” She sounded entirely doubtful about the whole venture.

His eyebrows climbed. He wondered whether she would ever arrive at her destination.

Her frown deepened and she straightened her shoulders. “It was brought to my attention as the Lady Paramount of the Vale that there is a change in the inheritance law that would be disproportionately taxing on the populace of a certain descent.” Her eyes slid to the Royce knight as she spoke.

He blinked. Well, that was the one thing he would be only too glad to help her with. His gaze swept to the Tully knight.

Tully blushed as he spoke. “My grandfather was most concerned when the change was pointed out to him. We would like to avoid any unpleasantness its introduction into law and practice would undoubtedly lead to.”

Daemon’s mind was churning. There was a third party involved in both cases of the Lords Paramount taking notice of the change, that was clear enough.

“I was not aware that the Great Houses sent out laws for further consultations among their vassal Houses.” He rather doubted that was the case.

Lady Arryn shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “We do not. At least, House Arryn does not. However, when one of the Houses sworn to us expresses their concern, we are duty bound to examine the issue closely. And in this case, the change is unacceptable.”

As his eyes bore into Tully, the man broke easily enough. “Lord Blackwood was in black rage about this. He visited Riverrun to complain to grandfather directly, and he rode with me to King’s Landing too.”

That must have been Stark’s doing. Daemon certainly had not reached out to the Royces of all people. Thankfully, it seemed that the promise he had extracted out of Stark before departing Winterfell to leave Daemon’s name out of the matter entirely was upheld.

Good. When Daemon had spoken to Corlys about any news coming out of the North in his absence, he had been dismayed to discover that Stark had not in fact complained to anyone. He had been tempted to jump on Caraxes and fly to Winterfell again to burn the useless man and his damned castle. It had been only the need to learn of his own useless brother’s fate that stayed him.

He frowned. “I see. Am I assuming correctly that the change you mentioned is the one regarding the change from recorded to registered marriages?”

A blinding smile split the face of Jeyne Arryn. “Yes! I can see you understand the issue.”

That made no sense at all. Why would both of them be here? All that they needed to do was send their objection by raven. 

He frowned and spoke slowly. “It is my understanding that you could raise the objection by message rather than personally. That would certainly be faster.”

She was crestfallen again. “The period usually granted for raising objections passed before the issue was pointed out to me. I did send my objections before I departed from the Vale, but it seemed more likely that a personal appeal to the King would be needed, if the change was already recorded.”

The corners of his lips twitched. She was in luck. There was little chance of it being recorded now.

“It was the same for us. Grandfather would have come himself, but the speed seemed essential.” The red-faced Tully shrugged. He rather doubted that. Grover Tully was quite likely the oldest lord in the realm and long past his traveling times.

Daemon rubbed his face. Two Great Houses complaining, neither of them Stark, was better than nothing. If Stark ever showed up, that would be three out of Seven Kingdoms rejecting the change resolutely and quite publicly. If only there was a way to make his oblivious brother aware of it without the Hand’s interference.

“I share your concern regarding the change, and I have been waiting to speak to the King about it myself.” He gave Jeyne Arryn a tired look. “However, as you witnessed yourself, the King does not receive visitors at the moment.”

She must have caught onto something in his words, for she brightened considerably. “So it has not been updated yet?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but the door opening distracted him. He blinked to see the Hand standing there and growled before thinking better of it. “Have you ever heard of knocking or announcing yourself, my lord Hand?”

He was given a condescending smile for his trouble. “My prince, I merely came to inquire whether you finally found the time to record the required changes in those laws that were left awaiting your pleasure during your absence.”

A genuine amused smile spread across Daemon’s face as he could answer that without a shadow of an untruth. “I am sorry to report that the papers fell victim to a pack of young, unruly dragons.”

The Hand was left gaping at his response but gathered his wits sufficiently for a mere hesitant “I see.” Then he shook off his shock as he seemingly recognized Lady Arryn. “My lady, I hope the prince was able to provide you with whatever it was you needed?”

Her smile was all sharp teeth as she rose. “Indeed, I believe he did. Still, it is my firm belief that the King should hear my concerns as well. I must insist on speaking with him.”

The Hand’s smile was pained in return. “We already had this discussion, my lady. The King does not admit visitors at the moment.”

It was Daemon’s turn for a sharp smile. “Oh, I would not worry about that too much, my lord Hand. I hear he is running out of books to read.” His smile widened even more. “If you ever find yourself in need of recommendations for good Valyrian poetry, though, be sure to ask my dear cousin Rhaenys. I am sure her input will be priceless.”

Chapter Text

Daemon had not intended on visiting Viserys again, not through the Kingsguard and not through the hidden passages. However, he wondered whether the reason for the presence of both Tully and Arryn in the Red Keep warranted it. Could he coax Viserys into speaking with them? Though speaking with them privately was unlikely to be enough. Unless he was pushed into making a promise publicly, there was always a chance that the Hand would manage to sway him. His brother was many things, but strong of will or steadfast was not one of them.

To visit or not, that was the question. And yet there were other matters that needed to be addressed as well, and preferably somewhat publicly too. Aegon’s marriage could not go unreported, and certainly not unanswered. At least, not in Daemon’s educated opinion. The king might see it differently. He usually did. 

He was pacing his office after his meeting with Jeyne Arryn, trying to figure out what action to take. To find common cause with the Valemen was quite disconcerting. Daemon was far from the favorite in the Vale and with the Royces specifically. While he had hardly even thought of the Vale in the last five years, the mutual animosity had grown more than enough in the near two decades previous. He doubted they would trust him to handle this, which might prove problematic down the road. It might prove problematic even now, if they decided to act on their own. Whatever it was he was going to do, he needed to do it fast.

Which brought him back to Viserys. He needed to get him out of his damned rooms and into a Small Council meeting. If the news of his eldest son missing had not drawn him out, he was unsure what would. Still, he had called for Daemon yesterday. Surely something in his attitude changed sufficiently for a possibility of a dialogue. He sighed and shook his head. His brother’s mind was a mystery to him and would likely forever remain so.

He left the office behind and let his steps take him to the place he found himself wandering to all too often when at a loss recently. There was no true godswood in the Red Keep, just a weirwood tree with a carved face in one corner of the gardens, so unlike the godswoods he had seen in the North. Rhaenyra had favored this part of the gardens the most as a child, deeming it the most convenient place to hide from septas. It was certainly the least visited corner, no one stumbling upon them on accident, even as they had had their impromptu day out yesterday.

Many changes happened in the Red Keep while he had been away, many if not all Valyrian tapestries and keepsakes removed from sight. How long before even this concession to the Old Gods of the First Men went the same way? He could not recall if the tree still stood when they had retaken the Red Keep. Checking on it had certainly not been on his mind then, and now he could not help but wonder. The Hightowers and the Faith were growing bolder in their machinations. How long before even this tree was felled?

As the heart tree came into sight, he paused. It seemed that for once, he was not alone in visiting. There was a man standing in front of it, and it was a man he recognized almost instantly if only for his sticking out as a sore thumb in the warmth of King’s Landing, dressed as he was. That certainly explained why there was no word of Stark sending messages to the Red Keep. He must have never joined the force heading north after all.

“My Lord Stark, this is certainly a surprise.”

Stark turned to him, startled. “My prince, it seems we meet in a godswood again.” Was it Daemon’s imagination, or was there a shadow of a smile on his face?

A smirk appeared on his face. “Indeed. I must admit myself surprised, I was under the impression you were to follow me north with your forces.”

Stark’s eyebrows rose. “And yet it seems I have followed you south instead. I find myself surprised at your presence as well. I would not have expected you to return to King’s Landing this soon, my prince.”

Daemon shrugged. “I found that circumstances required me to deal with the matter of Wildlings as quickly as possible. Though, I admit that would not be likely without the presence of additional dragons.” Or needed. Truly, he would have likely antagonized a lot less people while spending considerably more time up north were it not for his wife’s presence and circumstances .

Stark seemed taken aback. “So the Wildlings have been dealt with?”

“Yes. Though I imagine you will need to deal with quite a few unhappy lords once back.” At Stark’s climbing eyebrows, he decided to elaborate some. “I expect that they did not fully appreciate how necessary it was for them to be unaware that they were being used as bait.”

Stark chuckled and Daemon’s eyes widened in amazement. “Believe it or not, they are more likely to appreciate the results than nurse hurt pride.” Since it was his brows now rising in disbelief, Stark explained further. “Tell me, my prince, if you had a daughter that might be carried away and raped and murdered, and a man that insulted you saved her from that fate, would you care for the insult? Or the fact that your daughter was safe?”

“I assure you, my daughter’s safety is foremost in my mind. Anyone who would dare lay a hand on them would die for it.”

Stark turned back to face the tree. “We cannot always be there to protect our daughters ourselves.” Something bothered him about the sadness in the lord’s voice, and his brows drew together.

“I was not aware that you had daughters.”

A corner of his lips lifted. “Just one. My natural daughter, Sara.”

Ah, a Snow, then.

Daemon froze as a memory surfaced in his mind. Sara Snow . 

He had flown to Dragonstone in a fury, abandoning the campaign in the Riverlands, having heard the rumors of Jace marrying a Northern bastard, dishonoring Jace’s betrothed, his daughter, who had loved Jace with all her heart, who, Daemon was sure, had given herself to him. Wide, earnest brown eyes stared at him imploringly in the memory. The late Lord Stark had no daughters. There was no Sara Snow, kepa. I swear it.

And Daemon, the damned fool that he had been, had believed him. 

Fucking hells, he should have killed the boy himself.

There was nothing to say to Stark after that, so he turned his eyes to the tree as well and stayed quiet. 

It did not matter now. He would never allow his daughter to marry the boy, even if she claimed to love him, even if she pleaded. He would never trust the boy with a daughter of his again.

A smirk was back on his face. He supposed he should tell Rhaenyra that before she convinced herself that he would father a daughter on her to be given to the blasted boy.

He shook his head at his thoughts. There were other matters that he needed to speak to Rhaenyra about first.

He was once again standing in front of his niece’s chambers, reluctant to go on. Ser Arryk’s brow was raised as Daemon just stood there, staring at the door silently. He had no wish for a confrontation, but whatever it was she was doing in regard to Laena needed to stop.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he squeezed his eyes shut. “Please announce me to the Princess of Dragonstone.” He really did not want to be here.

As Ser Arryk announced him, he steeled himself, straightened his spine and folded his hands behind him. He stepped through the door as the very picture of confidence.

Rhaenyra rose to greet him with a pleased smile on her face. “Uncle, I am so happy that you came to apologize.” She waved her hand as her ladies started to rise and leave.

Apologize? For what? Wait.

The smile he gave her was slightly pained. “ Unless your ladies understand High Valyrian, I would prefer them to stay. ”

Her smile became fixed as she waved the ladies back down. “ I take it that you did not come to apologize, then. ”

“ I find myself at a loss what it is you expect me to apologize for. ”

Disbelief painted her features. “ You threw me out of your chambers! Quite rudely, may I add! ”

Ah, yes, that. He forgot about that. Frankly, he wished he could forget all of that conversation, too.

“ I do apologize for that. I was not in the most gracious of moods. ”

She snorted and folded her arms below her breasts as she rolled her eyes at him. “ What is it that you wish to speak to me about, then, uncle? ”

There was no good place to start, and there was no sense in beating around the bush. “ I need you to stop demeaning my wife. In public and in private, both. ”

Rhaenyra’s eyes flashed dangerously. “ She complained to you? ”

“ She need not complain. I will not have you upset her. ”

“ Me? Upset her? She said Vhagar might eat Syrax if provoked! ”

Daemon had to fight off a chuckle. That was true. Vhagar had been exceedingly cranky since she was forced to venture to the North. “ Be that as it may, I truly must ask you to stop with the jabs. ”

Rhaenyra’s eyes were sharp as a flint. “ Why? ”

His reply was slow. “ So you do not upset my wife. ”

She glared at him as she stepped closer to him. “ Why would you care? ”

Obstinate, he reiterated with a pleasant smile. “ Because she is my wife and I do not wish to see her upset. ”

She stopped, and a horrified expression appeared on her face. “ You did not. Uncle, tell me you did not! ”

He cocked his head to a side in confusion. What?

“ Uncle, tell me you did not get her with child! ”

“ You mean my wife? Now, why should I tell you that? ”

Daemon blinked as his head snapped to the side, his ear ringing. That was unexpected.

He blinked some more before turning to his niece, uttering words through gritted teeth. “ Rhaenyra, what the fuck? ”

Her expression was furious, and her finger was in his face. “ You ask me that? You ask me that when you refuse to give me a daughter and make a babe with that woman instead? ”

“ That woman is my wife and your good-sister. I have no business making babes with anyone else! ” His jaw was starting to ache with how hard he clenched it.

She raised her hand to strike him again, but he was ready this time and caught her wrist. “ You will stop, Rhaenyra, or so help me. ”

She freed her arm and snapped at him with her chin raised. “ I am the Princess of Dragonstone, the King’s chosen Heir. There is nothing you can do to me. ”

His chuckle was darkly amused. She was truly clueless, wasn’t she? “ Your place as the King’s Heir is not as assured as you think, dear niece. It was your father after all that arranged for the fire at Harrenhal. ”

Her face was bleached white, her voice barely audible. “ You lie. ”

“ If you do not believe me, ask him yourself! ”

He spun on his heel and stormed out.

Chapter Text

When his brother came to him in the night, Viserys was relieved. Of all people, he had not expected Daemon’s patience to keep him away for so long. Then again, he had not expected his brother and his cousin to be the most insistent of his blood family on seeing him. It was certainly a sobering thought. And Rhaenyra… his eldest child, his favorite, who did not even bother asking to see him for such a long time.

Alicent’s presence had been a balm to his soul, but she had provided little conversation and had been worried sick ever since he had descended into his illness and had not much improved despite his quick recovery.

The Hand had been a poor company and, since the maesters’ insistence on peace and quiet had left him with little news to share at first and then, once Viserys had declared his own preference for it, leaving matters entirely in Otto’s hands, he had become a rare company as well.

So his brother’s presence after all that time spent waiting for someone in his family to care enough was truly a relief. Someone did care after all. His brother did not share in his happiness for long. Daemon was relieved to see him alive and coherent, for sure, but once he realized what it was that Viserys had done he became unreasonably angry, aiming at upsetting him. And Viserys would be upset by the news if he believed it true for even a moment.

Still, his brother preferred to sulk, even as he sent for him the next day. Had he not been well-used to his brother’s moods, he would have been more exasperated with him, he supposed. But he was. The words his brother sent back to him were meant to rile Viserys, to mock his isolation, to provoke him out of his chambers. He would not grant him the satisfaction.

Rhaenyra insisting on being let into his presence a day later just as he was to retire for the night brought such joy to him. Though, when he called to the Kingsguard to admit her and saw her pale face, his joy dimmed. His brother, being apparently angry with him, had plainly shared his insights with his beloved niece in a way that would have painted Viserys quite unkindly, he was sure.

“Rhaenyra, I am so happy that you came to see me.” And he was. He was barely fighting off tears of happiness.

Her eyes were pointed to the floor and her mien was downcast. Shame came over him, and he felt sorry for causing her such pain with his actions. “Your Grace, I came to see you due to some distressing information that my uncle shared with me.”

Annoyance was rising in him. “None of this Your Grace nonsense, Rhaenyra, I am your father. You are my most beloved child and we are alone. And your uncle is exaggerating, I assure you.” Truly, could Daemon not have kept his thoughts to himself for once?

Her eyes rose to meet his, a fire burning in them. “Is it true, then? What my uncle says? That you would knowingly deprive children of their father?”

Her concern for her half-siblings was as heartwarming as it was surprising, though it would seem that he was right about his brother painting him in an unkind light, and he frowned at the thought. “You cannot think of it as such, Rhaenyra. I am the King, and it is not for you or anyone to question me like this. Your uncle should have kept his mouth shut.”

His harsh words wounded her, and she recoiled from him with horror-filled eyes, even paler than before. “How can you say that?”

He looked at her with pity. “The life of a ruler is a lonely one. One never knows who truly loves him and who might turn against him. I did not intend for things to go so far. I only meant to find out.” He reached out to caress her face. “And now I know.”

The horror in her eyes faded as he spoke, and her brows scrunched instead as she considered his words carefully and spoke slowly. “So this was a test? Of what? My loyalty? My love?” She turned away from him, his hand dropping to his side, and paced, agitated, before she turned back to him and threw her hands up. “And now what? Did I pass? Am I a worthy heir? Are my sons good enough for you?”

It was truly astounding how alike she and her uncle thought, and he sighed, annoyed. “Of course, you are worthy and so are my grandsons. They are your sons, and that is all that matters to me.”

She paused, and her agitation faded, a cautious smile appearing. “Thank you, father, for acknowledging that.” Her hand found its way to his arm as she took a step closer and looked at him with pain-filled eyes. “Still, I wish you did not feel the need to go to such extreme measures to assure yourself of it.”

Truly, a man could weep at a display of such care, and he almost did as he reached for her face again to lay a diseased hand on her cheek. “You must always remember that I love you most of all, Rhaenyra, and that I would stop at nothing to protect you.” He closed his eyes and shook his head sadly. There was such fire in her, so alike his brother, that Viserys feared for her still. “Even from yourself.”

A gasp escaped her, and he could feel a solitary tear roll down his cheek. When he opened his eyes again, she was looking at him through tears of her own.

“You can be sure that I will not forget it again, father.”

Having spoken to his daughter the day before, he realized it truly was high time to emerge from his chambers, and that had been mayhaps his brother’s goal in telling Rhaenyra all along. He must have known that only his beloved daughter would be able to coax him out when even Daemon failed.

He needed to confront his brother, but summoning him to his chambers again was unlikely to bear fruit. No, he would need to confront him in front of witnesses, so Daemon would not try to manipulate him with his preposterous lies again. A Small Council meeting then. Not too many people there and not too few either, certainly enough to call his brother out on any untruth.

Yes, a Small Council meeting would be ideal. No need to delay.

As the Small Council gathered later that day, all the members greeted him with a smile he returned gladly. They were doubtless happy to have him and his guidance back. It was good to be so appreciated. He should mayhaps consider repeating such retreats on a more regular basis. His brother arrived last, as was his custom, his disposition surprisingly pleasant. Did he not realize his lies were about to be uncovered? More fool him.

As the Hand opened the meeting, Daemon leaned forward to speak before any points could be raised. “Are we not waiting for Rhaenyra, then? I thought we agreed that the King’s Heir should be here.”

Otto gave him a long-suffering smile. “We agreed for the princess to be invited only in the King’s absence. As you can see for yourself, King Viserys is present.”

Sea Snake spoke up next to the Hand’s apparent irritation. “There were no Small Council meetings for the entirety of the King’s absence, so she was not invited, and now that he is back she has not been invited either? How convenient. And how unfortunate that I was not aware the King would be here. I took the liberty of assuring her presence, in case you forgot, my Lord Hand.”

The Master of Ships was glaring at the Hand, and the glare was returned heatedly. Viserys’ head was starting to ache already, and the meeting had barely started. He waved his hand in annoyance. “Let us wait for my daughter, then.” Her face would certainly be an improvement on all the gathered men.

And so they waited and as his daughter arrived, they rose to greet her, her uncle with a marked delay and the king’s lips thinned. Such petulance in a grown man.

She greeted them all with a small, graceful smile. “Your Grace, my lords, thank you for waiting.”

He smiled at her as well. She was showing her best self as a true heir should.

When the Hand moved to speak again, his brother interrupted once more, and left him fuming. “Your Grace, there are several representatives of the Great Houses present in the Red Keep, here to speak to you on a matter they believe quite urgent. With your permission, I would invite them in to speak their concerns now, before attending to other matters of the Small Council.”

The Hand’s tone was quite venomous in response. “This is preposterous! This is a meeting of the Small Council, not a general audience!”

His brother ignored him and turned to face Viserys more fully. “Your Grace, Lady Arryn requested a private audience with you on multiple occasions, and there are other Great Houses asking for the same in the same matter now. I believe it the best use of time and resources to speak with them together and address their concerns here and now.”

Otto was frowning at his words, clearly not expecting them and in truth, neither had Viserys. “You say Lady Arryn is here, brother?”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Interesting that you would champion her speaking to me, then, brother.

He leaned back in his seat, intrigued. “Invite them in.”

His brother smiled and rose to bring his guests in. “I took the liberty to inform them we would be meeting. I will be gone but a moment.” 

And indeed he was. Viserys gritted his teeth as Daemon stepped back into the room, leading three people. “Your Grace, Lady Jeyne Arryn, Lady of the Eyrie and Warden of the East, Lord Rickon Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North and Ser Elmo Tully, here on behalf of his grandfather, Lord Grover Tully, Lord of Riverrun and Lord Paramount of the Trident.”

Viserys clenched his jaw tight. Some representatives indeed. Two Lords Paramount and a grandson of another. He could see his Hand losing some color already out of the corner of his eye. This move was doubtless meant to humiliate him, after all.

The king straightened himself in his seat to present his most kingly visage. Whatever his brother was up to, it was high time he learned to respect his Hand and end these petty squabbles of theirs. To include three Great Houses in them was unacceptable!

Chapter Text

Her husband kissed her and then left to attend to his duties, a meeting with the Lady of the Vale among them, and Laena was left behind and alone. Being left behind became worryingly frequent since they had settled into the Red Keep, and she did not like it, not one bit. It made her skin crawl and her stomach rise and the walls close in and suddenly, she could not breathe. She needed to get out.

She made for the secret passage blindly and rushed to get out, get out, get out. When she ran out into the bright sunlight and the smell of seawater hit her, she dropped to her knees in the sand and emptied her stomach. Then, she pitifully let herself fall onto her side and let tears that rolled from her eyes drop into the sand.

Oh Gods, her head ached so much she felt sick with it. A full-body shiver shook her, and she emptied her stomach again. She laboriously pushed herself away and rolled onto her back to stare at the cloudless sky above her. Tired. She was so, so tired. Between one blink and the next, she was asleep.

A gust of scorching air woke her and her eyes snapped open. As she stared at the blue of the sky above her, there was nothing but pain and confusion. Her head was pulsing with a dull ache, an echo of a greater pain already passed. She brought her hand to it, bringing a shower of sand along with it. Why was she laying in the sand?

She propped herself up on her elbows and promptly threw up as the world swam about her. A warmth pressed against her back as she retched and her stomach finally, finally calmed. Oh, what a relief. She leaned back and melted against the warmth. Even the headache started to subside.

Another gust of hot air blew from directly above her head, and she frowned and tilted her head to look up. She blinked and then blinked again. She was staring into a dragon’s nostril. Which likely meant she was leaned against a dragon’s maw . Closed one, apparently, but still . Her whole body tensed as her panicked mind raced.

The dragon let out an unhappy sound at her tensing, and she fought to relax. It was Caraxes. She had certainly never been this close to him without his rider present, but surely he would not harm her. Certainly. Without a shadow of a doubt. She did her best not to spring away from him as fast as she could, but make her movements slow and deliberately obvious. He did not move after her, and she let out a breath of relief as she got up to her unsteady feet.

She did not see Vhagar. Why did she not keep Caraxes away from her? She would usually not let another dragon come this close to Laena without a protest. She would not let Laena get this close to another dragon without voicing a rather loud protest. Against her better judgment, she made a step back towards Caraxes with her hand stretched out. He did not move, not to attack her nor away from her. Her palm connected with his warm snout, and the remaining tension in her melted. A delighted laugh escaped her as she ran her hand over his red scales. Daemon will never believe this!

She cocked her head to the side. Her stomach had settled completely, and her headache was gone as she caressed the Blood Wyrm. In a bout of madness, she pressed her face to his snout and kissed him. He let her. He let her. The Blood Wyrm. She stared in amazement.

Removing herself from him, she walked around him to look for uncharacteristically quiet Vhagar.

She was on the other side of the cove, as far from the entrance to the tunnel as she could get without leaving the cove entirely. Laena frowned as she looked at her. She had never seen Vhagar look so small.

Her frown only deepened as the headache returned to her with a vengeance along with the nausea it caused, and she fell down on her knees again, clutching her head, but resisting vomiting for now. Caraxes’ snout nudged her in the back and then pressed firmly against it as she knelt and the pain receded. Again. She turned to look back at him with suspicion. 

Keeping a hand pressed against his scales, she climbed to her feet and looked to Vhagar. She let go of Caraxes and moved determinedly in the direction of the she-dragon. She was brought to her knees again just a few steps later, Caraxes watching her with interest as she hunched over in the sand. Gritting her teeth, she fought her rebelling stomach and extended her hand in the direction of the Blood Wyrm.

The pain was gone the moment he pressed his scales against the palm of her hand.

She got to her feet once more, not moving away from Caraxes at all, staring toward Vhagar as a shiver ran through her massive body. Her massive body, that was curled into as small a ball as she could make it. Something was wrong with Vhagar. Something was wrong with Vhagar and Laena could feel it .

Looking back at the entrance to the tunnels, she gave a heavy sigh filled with doubt. It was not that far. She nibbled on her lip. How was she to get Caraxes to escort her there?

Back in the Red Keep, she rinsed out her mouth, washed off the sand, changed into a fresh dress and felt human again. In fact, she felt as if nothing was wrong at all. Only it was. Something was very, very wrong. She headed for the chest with their books. Daemon hated Septon Barth’s Unnatural History with a passion but had paid an extravagant sum of money for a copy for Laena’s first nameday after they had gotten married. It was one of the books that traveled with them everywhere. It had to contain some information on what was happening to Vhagar.

She had found nothing and felt about ready to tear her hair out in frustration by the time the door to their chambers burst open, and her husband stormed in. She stared at him open-mouthed, pacing the chambers, fury rolling off him. He had not even noticed her.

“Daemon?” He stopped abruptly to turn to her, and her eyes widened upon spotting the red mark on his cheek. Her voice filled with alarm, and she rushed to get to him, the book forgotten. “What happened?! What did you do?”

He snorted and rolled his eyes. “I was slapped.”

“I can see that.” Her head was nodding along slowly. “But why were you slapped?”

He rubbed his face with a wince. “Because I would not deny that you are with child.”

She could hardly believe her ears and her voice was filled with shock. “My mother slapped you?”

He laughed. “No. Not Rhaenys. Rhaenyra .”

That hardly explained anything. Least of all, what conversation her husband would be having with her that would lead to a need to deny such.

She folded her arms across her chest and raised her brows at him in expectation.

Sighing, he shook his head. “I went to speak to her about her little snide attacks on you. I do not wish for her to upset you in your condition.” His eyes skittered away.

She sighed herself and went to him, cupping his reddened cheek with a smile and head cocked to the side. “And how did that work out for you?”

A snort left him. “Very well, as you can see for yourself. She was quite vexed with me when she realized why it was that I did not wish for her to agitate you.”

“Vexed with you? Over what?”

He sighed again and rested his forehead against hers. “Over getting you with child.”

She laughed. “What? I would understand my mother but Rhaenyra? Since when is she so concerned with my health?”

“Not your health. My involvement.”

The laughter froze in her lungs and she breathed out in shock. “What?”

Her husband was motionless, his forehead pressed against hers still. His voice was but a breath shared between them. “When I had refused to betroth our daughters to her sons, she asked me for a daughter of her own. I refused. She was furious to learn of your condition today.”

“What?” Her own voice was little more than a breath. Why had he not told her that sooner? “When?”

“She caught me at the tourney before your brother’s match against Cole.”

Her lips were very, very cold. “Why did you not tell me?”

A shrug. How could he shrug? “I forgot. There was so much happening, it slipped my mind. It did not slip hers.”

Should she feel relief that it meant so little to him? Should she believe that?

“Laena.”

She drew her wide eyes back to meet his, arms wrapped around herself. She had not even realized she had drawn away from him.

There was something like desperation in his eyes. “Laena, I love you, you know that. I would not betray you.”

A knot loosened in her chest and she threw her arms around him and hugged him with all her might. Of course. He had told her after Aemon’s birth. He had told her and she had believed him. She just… She was just scared. That was all. She was scared that she would lose him. She could not lose him. Not now. Not ever.

He hugged her back and whispered reassurances into her hair. She did not need any more reassurances. She stopped him with a press of her lips against his, every kiss a silent declaration of her own.

“ You need to take a look at Vhagar. ”

“Hm?” 

It was mayhaps not what he had expected to hear as they lay in their bed, Laena’s head resting on his chest, but that was what he got.

“ There is something wrong with Vhagar and I can’t be too close to her. ” She was drawing patterns on his skin with a frown.

“ What? ” He sat up in alarm, dislodging her head and disrupting her drawing, so she sat up as well with a grumble.

“ I think that she is sick and when I get too close to her, I get sick too. ”

“ I have never heard of anything like that. ” There was a deep frown on his face, and she could not blame him. She was at a loss too.

“ Neither have I. ” She sighed, despondent. “ I was looking through Unnatural History when you came in. ”

She needed not look at him to know him to be rolling his eyes, but she was undeterred. “ Do you think…? Do you think it could be just a cold? There was that storm at the Wall. ”

“ I very much doubt that. ” She had never heard of dragons getting colds either, but she had held some hope.

“ I have been thinking. After rereading Unnatural History. Vhagar is quite old, you know? What if… what if a change came upon her? ”

Daemon’s face twisted in a grimace. “ A change? ”

Her nod was vigorous. “ Yes. Septon Barth claimed that dragons can change sex as needed. As changeable as a flame, the book says. I do not believe Vhagar ever did, but what if this is it? Since she is so old? ” Because if it was due to her age, the change would be much better than the alternative.

Her husband’s gaze was sharp and unforgiving. “ You know that Barth’s book is full of horseshit. Dragons do not change sexes. Vhagar is and always has been a she-dragon. ” He let out a long-suffering sigh. “ And always will be, too. Remember that it was I that killed her, and she was a she then too. ”

Well, that was somewhat reassuring, at least. Vhagar had not died of old age in Daemon’s dream. But if it was not the change, then what?

Her husband hid his face behind his hands with a groan at her look. “ I promise I will take a look at her on the morrow. ”

Chapter Text

Laena was anxiously waiting by the mouth of the tunnel, her arms folded under her breasts, hugging herself and biting on her lip. He had ordered Caraxes to remain close to her, in case sickness came over her nevertheless.

This whole situation was strange. He had never heard of a rider experiencing pain of their mount. It made little sense. Caraxes had been wounded many times, almost all injuries that Daemon could recall inflicted with his rider right there on his back. Daemon had never felt a thing. Not the way Laena had described.

Also… He had never heard of another dragon behaving toward someone not their rider, as the Blood Wyrm had the day before. It seemed at the very least he knew what was going on and how to help Laena. Which brought questions of its own. Was it merely that he knew her so well? Or was it that she carried his child inside her and Caraxes understood that? Wished to protect that piece of his rider he felt there?

It was plain enough that it was the bond with Vhagar that was causing pain to Laena. Did being close to another dragon, touching them, somehow interfere with the bond a dragonrider had with their mount? Was that why dragons were so possessive of their riders once bonded? Still, he had never heard of a dragon making their rider sick.

Vhagar had been exceedingly discontent since their time in the North. And yet for all that she had handled their presence at the Wall and even beyond it with markedly more grace than the distraught Seasmoke or even hesitant Caraxes.

Mayhaps the reactions of the other dragons were a warning. Mayhaps something in the magic that held all that ice together harmed her somehow. But… If that were the case, why were Caraxes and Seasmoke, who were the more affected in the North, fine now and Vhagar the one showing signs of illness?

He started to sing a lullaby as he got closer to the she-dragon, and he continued to sing as he stepped up to her side and reached out to touch her scales. They were not any colder than he would expect. If anything, she was warmer than Caraxes. He frowned at the thought. Had she always been warmer, or was this one of the symptoms of her illness?

He kept his hand in contact with her scales as he went in search of her head, buried as it were somewhere in the tight ball her body formed. He would certainly prefer not to be climbing all over her in this state, but it would seem he must. Her head was not visible at all. He paused in his singing to curse under his breath as he braced himself against her and raised a foot to start his climb, and then had to hastily jump out of the way of a tail, snapping toward him to wrap around Vhagar and then back toward him again as he tried to approach once more. Not a coincidence, then. A warning.

Vhagar had been the second dragon he had been taken to the skies on. He had spent more time atop and around this dragon than any other save Caraxes. She had never before attacked him without an express command of her rider. There was certainly something wrong with her. The question was what. It was most certainly not the ridiculous change . As changeable as a flame scarce applied when Vhagar was clearly miserable and in pain.

As he returned to Laena’s side, he was frowning in thought. “Let us just observe her for a few days and look through the books some more.” His words were hardly comforting but…

Caraxes did not strike him as particularly worried for Vhagar and so Daemon reasoned that there likely was not a cause for too much concern. However, if Vhagar did not improve or even worsened in the coming days, he might yet come to regret antagonizing Rhaenyra. They might need the library at Dragonstone and the dragonkeepers there likely too.

He did not look forward to reading Barth’s book again, but mayhaps he could find something Laena did not. There were other books they had on dragonlore but, to his eternal disgust and despair, none other was quite as comprehensive.

They took time away from the books only to take their midday meal in the nursery with all the children. It was a lively affair to say the least, and they remained there until the nurses unceremoniously threw them out for the afternoon nap. He was not thrilled about that. He had hoped that Laena would be able to distract herself with the children and not worry for Vhagar so much but no such luck. Alas, afternoon naps were not to be disturbed, or the children would turn into a pack of wild little hellions. He supposed that what had been bearable, if barely, with just the twins was no longer so with three more children to account for.

There was a message waiting for him with the guards yet again, this one inviting him for a meeting of the Small Council. The King would be present, no doubt. He had no idea what prompted it, but there had been no meeting during the time of Viserys’ so-called illness. The Hand would not call one now, would he? 

There was no way to know. But if his brother truly was to be there, this would be his chance. He merely needed to word the message to the esteemed guests in such a way that the insult if the king was not in fact present or willing to hear them out would not be perceived as too great.

He sent the messages off with servants, extracted a promise not to venture down to the dragons alone out of his wife, and then hurried to the Small Council chambers only to arrive last once more.

Still, his brother was there, which was already the first victory of Daemon’s. Rhaenyra’s presence might not be another victory, but was certainly a loss on the Hand’s part. When his brother approved the presence of Stark, Arryn and Tully, an overall victory was all but assured. One way or another.

“My Lord Hand, would you kindly arrange for additional chairs to be brought in for the Council’s guests?” His voice was honey as he addressed the Hand with a pleasant smile. His brother frowned at him but did not voice any complaint. The Hand gritted his teeth and complied as well. Ah, the joys of polite society.

Once everyone was comfortably situated, he kept a firm grasp on the initiative and addressed his glaring brother. “Your Grace, as I already mentioned, Lady Arryn, Lord Stark and Ser Elmo came here to speak to you in a matter of great importance. Lady Arryn was delegated to me as the Master of Laws upon her arrival and voicing the request to speak to you by our good Lord Hand.” His smile spread, as did the confusion on his brother’s face. “As Lord Stark and Ser Elmo are here to speak on the same matter, it appeared only natural that I be the one they raised the topic to first, and as such it is I that reports it to you.”

While the Hand had paled at the appearance of the three, he had regained color since, and a smirk grew on his face while Daemon spoke. That was not good. There was something he was missing. Unfortunately, there was little else to do but press on.

“As it stands, there is a change to the inheritance law that greatly concerns the Vale, Riverlands and most of all the North.”

The king was frowning and turned to the Hand before Daemon had a chance to finish. “Did we not already settle this matter?”

The Hand’s smirk was smug as his eyes met Daemon’s for the briefest moment. “Indeed we did, Your Grace.”

“The matter was never spoken of in the Small Council.” He checked.

“There was little to be discussed. There is a need to ensure that a marriage is truly valid before considering offspring for inheritance. You must agree that any bastard could claim to be legitimate without it. There is already a register in place, we would be merely extending its use.”

Daemon’s lips thinned. “You would be forcing people not of the Faith of the Seven to visit a sept and to swear on the Seven that they are married. That goes against every principle of religious freedom my grandfather, King Jaehaerys, championed. The very principle the Targaryen rule of the Seven Kingdoms is founded on!” 

“Registering one’s marriage in accordance with the Crown’s laws hardly impedes religious freedom. All in the Seven Kingdoms are free to worship as they wish, free to marry as they wish. However, if they wish their offspring to inherit after them, they need to register said marriage according to the law.”

“In a sept, you forgot to add.” Daemon was restraining his temper only barely, speaking through gritted teeth. “For a fee.”

“Daemon, there is no need to be so dramatic about it.” That was his blasted brother that spoke. “I see no issue with any who wish their marriage registered visiting a sept to do so.”

He closed his eyes in disbelief. His fool brother had known about this? And did not have the least bit of reservations about it?

“There is the little matter of places that do not have a sept to begin with.” He would ruin his teeth soon at this rate.

“If that is your concern, my prince, it was intended to introduce a transitory period of several years when the existing marriages can be safely registered. There is nothing holding anyone back from building more septs to accommodate the needs of the Crown’s laws.”

Stupefied. He was stupefied. Horror filled him. He should have expected the Hand to be ready to counter every concern, yet he had not expected this . This amounted to calling the North to rebellion. Either they built septs or they would be willfully in conflict with the Crown’s laws in the eyes of the other kingdoms. This was not a pure money or influence grab. No, this was meant to remove the North from the board entirely.

“The North will not build any more septs.” There was quiet rage in Stark’s voice, and he was not surprised in the least. Yet this was exactly what the Hand would have hoped for.

He turned to his brother imploringly. “Your Grace, the law was not yet put into the records. It is not too late to stop this. Not with three Great Houses raising objections.”

The Hand did not remain quiet. “And why is that? The law was to be updated well over a moon ago, my prince. The period for consultation passed even before that. There was time enough to raise objections, and none were. Your failure as the Master of Laws to do your duty does not change the facts of the matter.”

“My Lord Hand is well aware that I was in the North for well over a moon, providing assistance against Wildlings as was requested of the Crown.” His voice was colder than ice.

“The Crown did not order you to! You left of your own volition, leaving your duties as the Master of Laws unattended!” The Hand’s voice was incensed but carried a note of triumph.

He went too far. “I was protecting Seven Kingdoms from an outside threat as is my duty as a prince of the blood, as a dragonrider and as the Master of Laws. Unlike you, who spent the time usurping more power for yourself and failing to find your rapist grandson. And unlike the King, who was enjoying his fucking peace and quiet, not even aware that his eldest son was missing!”

The glares exchanged between him and the Hand were deadly, and the silence in the chamber was stunned.

“Baelon is missing?”

Daemon turned his baffled stare to his brother. What? 

Confused, he turned to his good-father next, only to encounter the same puzzlement there.

The Hand turned ghostly pale.

The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard coughed delicately in the silence. “Prince Aegon has been missing since the last day of the tourney.”

“I ask this council now, and I will have the truth out of you. Is the King able to execute his office?” The rage in Stark’s voice was no longer so quiet.

Chapter Text

The words of the Warden of the North resounded in the chamber and all stares turned to him.

“I am the King! I will not be questioned by the likes of you!”

Daemon closed his eyes, horrified. This had been a mistake.

“The King is tired. Lord Commander, please, see him to his chambers.” That was the Hand’s voice, and his eyes opened to glare at him.

“I am not tired.” His brother’s voice was weak and petulant, and he did not turn to face him, dread spreading through him. How long? Just how long had they been all left ignorant of his condition?

The Lord Commander did not move from his seat, and Daemon was grateful for that.

“Mayhaps we should call for the queen to escort the king and continue the meeting.” Corlys spoke with caution, unwilling to let go of the meeting once called at last.

“Yes, yes, let us call for Aemma.” 

Daemon collapsed into his seat at his brother’s words, shaken. When had he even stood up? Just how unwell was his brother?

No one corrected him, and they waited for the queen to escort him out in silence.  

The door was barely closed before Daemon sprung back to his feet, enraged. “How long did you keep my brother’s condition concealed?”

The Hand’s voice was even, unlike his own. “There was nothing to conceal. As I said, the king is merely tired.”

“Tired?! The king’s mind is plainly addled!”

“My prince-” The Hand’s answer did not interest him.

“Grand Maester, please, answer the question.” His gaze at the man spoke clear enough what would happen if he did not.

The man coughed. “The king’s condition is not that severe. He occasionally shows some signs of confusion.”

Daemon fought to keep his voice even. “How long?”

“Not that long. A few moons, no longer than a year for certain.”

“Considering the condition of King Jaehaerys before his death, how would my brother compare?”

The maester grew uncomfortable. “King Jaehaerys’ body was very frail at the end. I assure you, King Viserys is much younger and able-bodied.”

He would have snorted. Comparing their bodies when Viserys was almost three decades younger than their grandsire had been at his death was not the best comparison. It was also not after what he had asked. “I trust you know that is not what I asked, Grand Maester.”

The Grand Maester’s eyes darted to the Hand and shifted in his seat before responding. “The confusion would align with the confusion His Grace King Jaehaerys experienced a few moons before his death.”

Of course, the Hand was not worried about the consequences of his actions. He had expected to rule in the King’s name entirely until his death, Viserys being too vulnerable to his manipulations in his condition.

In the King’s absence, the Hand ruled. And the King’s mind had been absent for some time.

Daemon clenched his fists to restrain himself and leaned on the tabletop separating him from the Hand. “This is treason you committed. It was your duty to inform the King’s Council of his condition, yet you exploited the situation.”

“You exaggerate, my prince, I only did as I did in the last years of your own grandsire’s reign. I ruled in the King’s absence.” The Hand did not appear concerned at all, dismissing Daemon’s words with a scoff.

His blood boiled. “You forget a rather important detail, my Lord Hand. It was the Hand and the King’s chosen Heir that ruled in King Jaehaerys’ name, not just the Hand.” His gaze shot to Rhaenyra. “Niece, were you informed of the King’s condition? Were you invited to take part in the decisions concerning the Kingdoms? Were you invited to Small Council meetings in addition to or in the place of the King?”

There was a smirk on her face. She knew well where this was headed. “No. Not unless I invited myself or, as today, was invited by my good-father.”

“Tell me, my Lord Hand, who was the check on your power, on your decisions if not the King and his Heir?” His voice had evened out.

“The queen-”

Daemon interrupted him immediately. “The queen is not the King's Heir. The queen is not the King’s regent. The queen is not of the King’s blood. The queen is not Targaryen . She has no right to the King’s power, no knowledge to wield it besides, and as your daughter I doubt she has any authority over you.”

A smirk appeared on the Hand’s face. “If you would let me finish, my prince. Queen Alicent is in fact a regent. The King named her a regent of his Heir, should anything happen to the King before he reached his majority.”

He raised one of his brows mockingly. That was extremely unlikely to be true and quite daring to claim. “His majority?” Amusement entered his voice. “While Septon Barth’s Unnatural History claimed dragons as changeable as a flame, I assure you that that was not meant to apply to their human counterparts.” It did not apply to dragons themselves, for goodness’ sake. “Princess Rhaenyra is still both a female and well over her majority.”

The Hand was smug, nevertheless. “King Viserys declared his eldest son his Heir, as is the tradition.”

A round of coughs sounded around the table, Rhaenyra’s gasp distinct. He did not bother covering a laugh. “Prince Baelon, you mean?”

“Prince Aegon.” The Hand’s uttered the words through gritted teeth.

“And what proof do you have of this?”

“I have the declaration signed by the King.”

That could be true enough, he supposed. He had little doubt that Viserys would sign anything the Hand handed him to sign in his current condition.

“And when did he sign this supposed declaration that the Small Council nor anyone else was informed about it?”

There was a smile on that hated face. “It is a recent development.”

“Ah, a recent development. That explains everything. Especially how a man of unsound mind suddenly shifts on a matter he remained firm on for well over a decade. Tell me, how many lords swore before the Iron Throne to uphold the prince’s so-called rights?”

He supposed that when one was a traitor already, it would matter little if one added an attempt to subvert succession to their list of crimes. It was not like the Greens had not planned for an outright usurpation down the road, after all.

Surprisingly, the smile on the Hand’s face grew. “I would tread carefully, my prince. The King’s will on your presence in King’s Landing and his Small Council was well-known for many years as well, yet here you stand as the Master of Laws. To call the King’s judgment into question is to question your own authority and position on this council.” The smile grew still. “It is to question your own children’s royal titles.”

Daemon drew back at the words. That was moons ago. Was he claiming that his brother’s judgment had been entirely compromised that long already?

“If the King’s declarations cannot be trusted and long-standing oaths are called into question, it is not for a Small Council to decide the succession to the Iron Throne.” His head snapped to the side to look at Jeyne Arryn. “It seems clear enough to me that a Great Council is needed to settle the matter of succession again .”

While the outcome was exactly what Daemon had wanted, he could hardly be happy at the reason. It was one thing to call the King’s health into question. It was quite another to question his mind.

“I agree.” That was Stark, and he could see Tully nodding along.

He looked back to the Hand and gave a nod as well. The Hand was too smug as he gave his agreement as well. There seemed to be agreement all around the table, only Rhaenyra withholding it, incensed. Little wonder. Great Councils did not have a history of going in favor of female claimants.

“I see little reason for all this bother. I am my father’s heir and have been since I was a little girl. All lords of the realm knelt to me in front of the Iron Throne and swore to uphold my father’s wishes.” Amusingly enough, Daemon was still not counted among those that knelt to her.

“Those oaths matter little, princess, when the King’s wishes cannot be trusted anymore.” The smirk on the Hand’s face irked him beyond reason.

“Indeed.” Daemon’s fists left the table, and he folded his hands behind his back instead as he straightened. “In the meantime, Lord Commander, please, secure the document Ser Otto claims the existence of regarding the succession for the Great Council and place Ser Otto under arrest for treason.”

The Hand reared back. “You can’t do that! You have no authority! No right! I am the King’s Hand!”

“Very well, if I have no right, let us put it to a vote, then.” He looked around the table. “All those in favor of putting Ser Otto under arrest?”

There was a round of Ayes from all present, some smug, some grave. Even the Grand Maester agreed, albeit a beat after all the others.

“It would seem that we are all in agreement, Ser Otto. What you are is a traitor. Your fate will be decided by whoever emerges as the next ruler after the Great Council, but you cannot be allowed to continue in your treasonous actions until then.” He turned his head to Ser Harrold. “Lord Commander, if you would.”

The Lord Commander nodded and stood up, calling for guards. “Please, do not struggle, Ser.” Ser Harrold received a venomous look in response, but no resistance.

As he was escorted out of the chamber, Rhaenyra jumped up and placed herself in his path to tear off his badge of office. “You are no Hand, fucking traitor.”

As the door closed again, Corlys let out a laugh. “Now we have no King, no Hand and no clear Heir. What are we to do until the Great Council gathers?”

Daemon glared at him as he sat back down. Things might not have gone as they had wished them, but there was little cause for cynicism.

Rhaenyra, still standing, walked to take the King’s place. “The Heir is clear, good-father.”

The Grand Maester shook his head. “Not so, princess. There are two claimants between King Viserys’ children, and the Small Council cannot express favoritism before the Great Council is convened. Not without the King’s explicit wishes and since his faculties are… unreliable, it is not for us to grant power prematurely either way.”

“So the Realm will remain ungoverned for however long it takes?” His niece's tone was mocking.

She had the Grand Maester shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Ah, not so, princess. It has been long debated in the Citadel how the power flows in situations like these, and it is believed that the Master of Laws comes next in line after the Hand in the power he wields and as such should lead the Small Council in the absence of both the King and the Hand.”

The Master of Coin would be next, then the Master of Ships, and then the advisory positions of the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and the Grand Maester. The position of the Master of Whisperers would be the last, or rather not considered at all, since there would be no Small Council at all with just him present. Daemon knew that, had known that since he had been a boy. As did Corlys. Rhaenyra should have as well.

She scoffed and looked at the pin in her hand. “My uncle could be considered one of the claimants as well. How is that not favoritism?”

“The prince was named to the Small Council by the King himself, princess, not by the council.”

An unhappy grimace twisted her face. “Then this is yours, uncle.” The pin skidded across the tabletop to land in front of him.

Apprehension seized him as he stared at it. He had coveted it for so long. But not for the power. And not like this. He had wanted it handed to him by his brother, proudly pinned to his chest as the tangible proof of his trust. He had wanted it granted to him by his niece as proof that he was more than just a weapon to be used and then discarded.

It had been so easy to do this when there was the rage at his brother fueling him, but now… His brother’s mind was gone. His brother was gone. There was no revenge to be had on him. Even if all the realm knelt to him as the next king, his brother would not see it and understand that they chose Daemon over him. The realm would not choose Daemon over Viserys. It would choose him only over his brother’s worthless son. A son his brother did not even remember.

Rising to his feet with a heavy sigh, he reached for the pin. “Let us reconvene on the morrow. There are many matters that need to be attended to, but I believe we all need some time to recover from the events of today.”

He put the pin back on the table and left.  

This was almost a victory. But the victory tasted like ashes in his mouth.

Chapter Text

Books and papers were strewn all over the floor of the chamber, but Laena was no closer to an answer than before. And with the promise to her husband, she could not even check on her poor dragon. She was in the midst of pouting when her mother entered the chambers, and her pout transformed into a brilliant smile. If she went with her mother, Daemon could hardly claim her alone.

The smile faded as there was another person revealed behind her, and she sighed instead. No visit to the dragons then. 

“Laena, what in Gods’ name is going on here?”

Looking around the scattered items somewhat helplessly, she shrugged. “Research. Daemon and I were looking into some things, but he had to leave to attend a Small Council meeting.”

Bending down to look at one of the books, her mother shook her head, clearly despairing at her daughter. “You two and dragons.”

Laena shrugged once more without the tiniest bit of remorse as her mother straightened with a heavy sigh, and then frowned as her mother smiled and turned back to the lady that came with her. “Laena, this is Lady Priscilla Celtigar, daughter of Lord Bartimos.”

Laena smiled at the young lady as was expected of her and began to rise to greet her properly only to be startled by the lady rushing forward to assist her. She let herself be helped up and blinked at her mother in bewilderment before finally addressing the lady herself. “Lady Priscilla, thank you. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, my lady. I assure you.” Lady Priscilla was smiling widely at her and did not let go of Laena’s arm. “I was so glad when your mother told me you could accommodate me. You will not regret taking me into your service, I promise.”

Laena’s wide eyes turned to her mother again, but she was only smiling at her in satisfaction. As her gaze returned to the still smiling Lady Priscilla, she let herself settle into a friendly smile as well. “I have little doubt of that. Though I must admit I have had little need for ladies so far.” And only a lady in waiting she could be, coming from the family she did.

“Oh, I am sure you will find a use for me, what with your husband with his duties and you with your many blessings.” Her smile and voice were disconcertingly bright, and her gaze dropped to Laena’s middle meaningfully. It was all Laena could do not to gape at her. How did she know? Did her mother know as well? She did not look like it, with her content smile, but it could be merely a facade to lull them into a false sense of security.

It was then that her mother spoke up. “Lady Priscilla was a lady to the Princess of Dragonstone.” Ugh, it was all Laena could do not to pull a face at the very title. “She did not find herself quite at home there, but she does not wish to have to leave the Red Keep, so she approached me to ask whether she could be of service to you.”

Her mother seemed exceedingly happy about this, but Laena really did not wish for a lady, especially not now when she wished to spend all of her time with Vhagar. 

Lady Priscilla's expression was hopeful and open, her eyes slightly teary as she spoke. “We will be best of friends, my lady, you will see.” 

She was her junior by at least a decade, which would make the lady too young to be one of those ladies of the Narrow Sea that enjoyed teasing her about her unmarried status. Laena had had no female friends, and there was a reason for that. Her best friends she found were her brother and her husband. And she had long convinced herself she needed no one else.

Laena gave her mother a sweet smile. “Mother, would you excuse us for but a moment?” Then, she seized Lady Priscilla by her arm and dragged her to the bedchamber, slamming the door behind them, locking it, before turning to the stunned lady. “Have you told my mother?”

The lady’s eyes only got rounder. “What?”

Laena wordlessly motioned to her middle.

“Oh, no. No, I did not.”

Good. She nodded to herself. If they could keep it from her mother for a moon or two more, they might avoid any unpleasantness toward Daemon altogether and Laena would enjoy her freedom from her mother’s overbearing attentions for just a bit more. They had been married for years, no one would wonder if the babe came a little sooner than expected.

“You can be my lady only if you swear not to tell my mother.”

The poor lady was blinking at her in utter puzzlement. “I… swear?”

She patted her on the arm she still held onto with a gentle smile. “Good. I believe we can be best of friends, too.” There was a pause in which she watched an uncertain smile spread on Lady Priscilla’s face. “Now, how about you tell me why you truly left the princess’ service.”

The girl’s face fell as she shrugged. “I was not in her service for long, but it was not what I expected. The princess was not how I expected. We never really went anywhere or did anything, and the princess oft forgot I was even there.” Her big blue eyes stared directly into Laena’s. “You are so much more exciting, my lady! You are a dragonrider, and you traveled all over the world, and you fought Wildlings at the Wall and your husband fought a duel to win your hand.” The girl looked down as she blushed. “I would so much like to be like you.”

To be like her. The girl wanted to be like her. Laena almost laughed. She was afraid to tell her mother of her condition, and this girl admired her.

“You do understand that neither I nor my husband are the most social of creatures? You might be bored to tears soon enough.”

Her new lady bounced in excitement. “Oh, I doubt that, my lady. You are both so interesting !”

Laena regarded her with a healthy dose of skepticism. With the amount of time they were like to spend behind the locked door of their bedchamber, looking after Vhagar, she doubted it would take long before the girl changed her opinion on the both of them. Still, she sighed and led them out to the main chamber, back to face her mother.

Her mother was gone, and Laena was left to figure out what to do with her new lady in waiting on her own. There were only so many questions she could ask about the lady’s impressions of King’s Landing, the Red Keep, the health and fortunes of her family and only so much evasion she could make when asked those questions in turn.

She prayed for her husband to come back soon, if only for it to be his turn to navigate his way through polite conversation. Their research into dragonlore would likely be impeded by the presence of Lady Priscilla quite a bit, which was truly something she should have considered before agreeing. Her lack of skill in small talk and idleness was mayhaps another.

The outer door opened to her great relief just as she was about to start inquiring after the lady’s extended family, and she rose to her feet eagerly. There were times when she was most grateful for her husband’s abrupt arrivals, and this occasion certainly counted among them.

Daemon strode into the chamber with a deep frown, gaze locked firmly onto the floor. Upon his sight landing on the scattered books, his shoulders slumped, and he crouched down to pick the nearest one up with some degree of resignation. 

Laena bit her lip in concern. Something must have happened in the meeting. She was almost afraid to ask. 

A movement in the corner of her eye caused by Lady Priscilla rising to her feet as well awakened her to the fact that her husband and she were not alone and introductions were in order, so she replaced her frown with a pleasant smile. “Husband, let me introduce you to my new lady in waiting.”

Daemon’s head snapped up to her, clearly startled by her words. He blinked as he rose out of the crouch and tucked the book under his arm. “Wife, I was not aware that you were in search of ladies.”

Laena’s smile turned mischievous. “That makes two of us, husband.” She gestured towards her companion. “This is Lady Priscilla Celtigar, the youngest daughter of Lord Bartimos and my first lady in waiting.” Turning to the lady instead, she gestured towards her husband. “My lady, let me introduce my husband, Prince Daemon Targaryen, the Rogue Prince.”

Her prince was entirely too amused as he was introduced, nodding to Lady Priscilla and accepting her curtsy with grace before coming to Laena’s side and kissing her temple and whispering directly into her ear through a rather fixed smile. “What in Gods’ name is going on here?”

She let out a light laugh as she turned her head to kiss his cheek and breath out against it. “I have no idea.”

Wrapping her arms around her husband’s waist, she looked up at him adoringly before turning to Lady Priscilla. “I hope you will not hold it against me, Lady Priscilla, but I must speak with my husband privately. We shall see each other on the morrow?”

The lady’s eyes widened and her face flushed. “Oh, oh. Of course, my lady. Enjoy yourself.” She flushed more and stumbled through her curtsy. “That is to say, enjoy the rest of the day, my lady, my prince.”

Daemon was looking at the door in amusement as it closed behind the girl, shaking with mirth, as Laena let go of his waist and seized his arm instead to drag him into the bedchamber, locking the door behind them. “ What happened in the meeting that has you so…? ” Rattled? Unhappy? Dejected? Sad? Defeated? She gestured mutely at him.

All mirth left him and grimness set in his eyes, tightness around them, lips pressed together. He shook his head as he turned away from her and folded his arms across his chest. “Viserys… He…” Shaking his head again, he fought to speak. “ I… I don’t even know. His mind is gone. ” He let out a heavy sigh and a dejected snort. “ I was just so angry at him. It was such a relief to finally, after all this time, have somewhere for all that rage to go, to have a way to prove to him that while he might not have seen my worth, others do. ” A bitter chuckle followed. “ But that will never happen. He will always remember me as a plague, a scourge of our House, a worthless ungrateful fuckup little brother, only entitled to whatever scraps he deemed to give me. ”

Her heart broke to hear him speak, and she approached him carefully to lay a hand on his back. “ You are none of that, Daemon. None of that, do you hear me? You are a good husband, a better father, a great warrior and a great man. You are in every aspect of your very being better than your brother. ”

He dropped his head and shook it again. “ You might believe that, but he never will. ”

Well, there was nought she could say to dispute that, was there? So she just embraced him from behind and rested her forehead against his back.

Chapter Text

Wallowing had never helped him, and it would certainly not help now either. His brother’s sense might be gone, but Otto Hightower was still there. While revenge for all that he had done would not be quite as satisfactory without Viserys realizing just how wrong he had been to shun his brother in favor of his Hand, it was still needed. Mayhaps more importantly, it was not just revenge. It was justice. Justice for his father. It was also necessary. Necessary to avoid the blood-letting that the war of succession would become.

All the hurt caused by his brother over the years, all the anger, all the greater and smaller things that shaped his relationship with his brother and ultimately shaped the person Daemon had become would have to be put away, never to be examined again. His brother was as good as dead and so, Daemon would lock all of it away just the same as he did with his grandmother and grandfather.

He allowed himself the comfort of his wife’s embrace, the comfort of her presence, the comfort of knowing that despite everything he was allowed to have her and to keep her. He allowed himself a moment of gratitude towards his brother for granting him the position that would ensure that Otto Hightower would not go unpunished for what he had wrought. And then, finally, finally, locked his brother away in the vault of his mind, among others never to return to him.

A long exhale carried all the remaining emotion out of him. When he breathed in, his mind was clear. He turned in Laena’s embrace to kiss the top of her head. There were more important issues to deal with. “Did you manage to find anything in the books?” 

Startled eyes rose to meet his, and Laena’s forehead wrinkled. “No? Daemon, are you certain this is what you want to talk about?”

His nod was resolute. “Aye. I did not expect to find anything, not truly. It does seem like something that would be remarked upon quite a bit once noticed, does it not? I think it is simply something that was either forgotten about or not discovered before.”

His words brought her little happiness, and she worried her lip as she plainly thought them over, so he brought her into his arms, kissed her forehead, and laid his head on top of hers. He had a theory, but he was not yet ready to share it with her. No need to raise her hopes needlessly, too.

Something occurred to him while he had been rereading Barth’s dreaded book, especially the passages relating to the supposed change. While there was little doubt that the book contained many delusions, there was one that seemed to be repeated in every book on dragonlore in their possession. It was one thing he knew to be untrue, one thing any dragonkeeper knew to be untrue. Dragons were said to lay their eggs in locations out of reach of their riders. 

And yet, Daemon had collected Syrax’s clutch himself. The lava tunnel he found them in had not been the most hospitable or accessible of places, but it could be reached by Rhaenyra easily enough had she been so inclined. It was the mention of dragonriders specifically, repeated in every book, that bothered him. As far as he knew, dragonriders rarely, if ever, went looking for the eggs of their mounts. It was usually the dragonkeepers that collected them, Daemon doing so himself on one occasion as well. But Syrax was not his. And no one was collecting eggs in the presence of their mothers anyway.

She-dragons about to lay a clutch would retreat deep into tunnels and remain there in isolation until the eggs were laid, and the mothers felt it safe enough to leave them alone for some time. Vhagar’s behavior was similar to a point. Her rider ordered her to stay in the cove, and there she remained. There were no tunnels into which she could withdraw, and she was already as far from the entrance to the cove they were using as she could be. He supposed the inability to comply with what her instincts demanded of her at the same time as the order of her rider could be cause enough to be miserable.

The likelihood that Daemon’s hopes were influencing his reasoning on the issue was rather high. Still, Caraxes had not been worried. Caraxes either worried about Vhagar or competed with Vhagar, he very rarely did neither. That was a fact of life he had long learned to live with.

That left Laena then. Why would Laena react the way she had to Vhagar’s condition? Well, he had a theory for that too… No one was fool enough to go looking for eggs while their mother was present. Most people seeing a standoffish dragon would steer well clear of it, not fool enough to chance upon a dragon in a bad mood. However, if that dragon was bonded, their rider would likely wish to investigate what was wrong. Daemon wondered just how many dragonriders had to have perished while poking expectant she-dragons for a defense mechanism to emerge.

If his speculations proved correct, he should consider himself exceedingly lucky in his approach of Vhagar that morn. Being swung a tail at threateningly was far from fatal. So long as one managed to jump clear, at least.

He had no idea whether he even could be proven correct in such an exposed location. To date, there had been no eggs laid above ground, not on Dragonstone and not in the Dragonpit. Yet it would seem too late for Vhagar to be moved elsewhere. And even if it wasn’t, and they did manage to move her there, it would not matter whether she laid an egg or a hundred, all of them would be lost to them anyway. It was quite a tangle they found themselves in.

Either Vhagar was fine and about to lay eggs and the issue was in her location, or she was not and the issue was unknown. Either way, she could not be moved. Either way, there was not sufficient information to be found in King's Landing. Either way, all they could do for now was to observe.

“How about we go spend some time in the nursery and then go look in on Vhagar after bidding the children goodnight, hm?”

His wife’s dejected sigh and a nod were answer enough as she moved to unlock the door, and he blinked as he realized they had not really spoken about things that mattered to the realm at all.

“Wait. The meeting.”

She turned to him with surprise. “What about the meeting?”

A smirk stretched his lips as he gave her a light kiss. Her bewildered countenance amused him greatly as he shrugged coyly. “I had Otto Hightower arrested for treason.”

Her shock was palpable, and her voice was almost a screech. “What?”

Shrugging again, his smirk turned into a wide face-splitting smile filled with pride. “I, Daemon Targaryen, the Master of Laws, had Otto Hightower, now former Hand of the King, arrested for treason.” He turned serious as he went on. “He concealed the fact that the king was addled from the council and ruled in his name regardless, without any oversight. I called for a vote and the council agreed with his arrest.”

Laena’s eyes shone with glee, and he kissed her again before she could say anything.

“There were some claims he made that muddled succession, so another vote was held, and a Great Council is to be called to determine succession as a result.”

Laena’s jaw dropped as she stared at him, struck speechless. Then she let out a laugh, grabbed him by his ears, and kissed him soundly. “Let us go see the children. This deserves a celebration.”

Much, much later, after they put the children to sleep, they sat in the mouth of the tunnel leading to the cove, looking out to Vhagar. Laena sat with her back to his front, both wrapped in a shared blanket, both silent, lost in their own thoughts, speaking only occasionally.

“You do not have to stay here with me. You can get closer to Vhagar to see her better.”

He judged the distance to be good, with no true need to get much closer, and the company was more agreeable too. Pressing a kiss to his wife’s neck and then a light, teasing bite to her ear, he laughed softly. “I very much like where I am, thank you.”

She turned her head to him, grinning. “That might be true, but you are hardly doing much observing here.”

“I assure you, I observe just what I want.”

She turned back to look in Vhagar’s direction as she laughed. They settled into a comfortable silence again.

“What do you think of Daeron?” 

The question came out of nowhere some time later and he was left confused. He never really thought about his youngest nephew. He had met him only once in either life when he had been introduced to him on Driftmark. The boy had been sent off to Oldtown before they had come to King’s Landing to take their positions on the Small Council. In the war, despite riding Tessarion, he had been the least consequential of all dragonriders.

“I don’t think of my nephew at all.” And it was the truth. For Daemon, the boy might as well not exist at all.

Laena let out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t understand why she had to name her son Daeron. That’s a Velaryon name, she had no business using it.”

This was shaping up to be a strange conversation. “Mayhaps it was meant to be an olive branch? A wish to honor your family?” If so, he doubted the Velaryons considered it as such.

Laena snorted. “It was taken as an insult, I can assure you.” Only one of many levied over the years.

“What does it even matter now?”

She snapped her head to look at him, outrage writ plainly on her features as she opened her mouth to respond. Whatever she was about to say was lost as a blast of sound and heat tore the air, and they had to bring their hands up to cover their ears.

The pressure of the heat and sound was suffocating and seemingly without an end as Daemon struggled to his feet. His ears were ringing, and his balance was thrown off.

Then the pressure was gone and there was a quiet for a beat before it returned with a vengeance. Laena was looking at him wild-eyed, ears covered, and struggling to stand as well. He pushed her deeper into the tunnel. Hopefully, she would follow it all the way up. Daemon himself stepped out onto the beach.

Vhagar was no longer wound so tightly around herself. No, now she was breathing fire at the rocky cliffside surrounding the cove with determination. She paused for a breath or two and then continued once more and then again. He stood staring, attempting to comprehend what it was he was seeing.

As the pause in dragonfire stretched on, Vhagar turned and slammed her massive tail into the heated rock, and he winced as the rock cracked. Her massive head came to meet the rock next, nosing at it, and then again smashing her tail against it.

Was she…burrowing? As in… Creating a less exposed space for herself? As in… A nest?

Chapter Text

The visit to King’s Landing was not going at all the way she had expected. When the Royces approached her with their concerns, she had been confident that a raven would be enough to address them. She had believed a personal visit to the capital entirely unreasonable and unnecessary. She had believed the change to be a mere mistake, an oversight, mayhaps a lapse of judgment. She had believed that once pointed out, it would be swiftly corrected and never mentioned again.

All of her assumptions were wrong, and yet she likely would not have even bothered traveling to King’s Landing over such a small thing, had she not been visiting Runestone and as such had been so close to Gulltown that the journey would not have been too much of a hardship. She would have still not traveled had it not been for her gratitude to the late Lord Yorbert for his leal service and faithful guidance in the years he had served as her regent. Cursing herself and her weak heart every step of the way, she had made herself go.

And now here she was, in shock of all the politicking, backstabbing, and events happening all around her.

In the Eyrie, she was the lady of her lands and of her people. Her word was the law, obeyed by all. In the event that a law was open to interpretation, she interpreted it and whatever she decided was followed without questions. 

Years ago, even the Rogue Prince bowed to her judgment and did not complain to the King, as was within his rights. The law was mayhaps not so open to interpretation in his case, and mayhaps she had not entirely followed the established tradition of inheritance falling to the surviving spouse of a childless marriage and only passing to the more distant heirs upon that spouse’s death. 

Yet, Jeyne had known Lady Rhea and had bonded with her over being ruling ladies of old noble Houses. She had known that the marriage was made at swordpoint and not consummated besides, and therefore could hardly be considered binding. With the prince’s hate for the Vale and all that came whence known to all and sundry, it had seemed an easy enough decision to make to deny him the inheritance that should have been his were the marriage a true one.

Here, it seemingly mattered little that she was a Lady of a Great House. Here, one seemingly needed a position of favor with the Hand to get anything done. Here, she might as well be an annoying little fly, buzzing by the Hand’s ear for the first days of her presence in the capital. Here, she rued that the visit had been unplanned and therefore did not display the strength of House Arryn as it should.

At first, she had believed them lucky upon their arrival that the Rogue Prince, the newly installed Master of Laws, had not been present. It would have been doubtless his oversight that they had come here to correct, she had believed, and so his absence would make everything easier. He could have hardly raised a protest when gone. All she had needed was to speak to the King, she had believed. 

The Royces had warned her that the Hand, being a Hightower of Oldtown and therefore bound to the Faith more than to the Crown, was unlikely to receive objections in earnest with good grace. She had believed them paranoid, but she was a Great Lady and should be free to speak her grievances directly to the King, so she had insisted on that. And the more she had been denied, the more she had resisted telling anyone else, and the more weight she had put in the warnings regarding the Hand’s true allegiances.

By the time the prince had returned to King’s Landing, she had been thoroughly convinced that there was an orchestrated effort to reduce the power the Great Houses held and the change in the law was merely a part of it. The Hand eventually directing her to the Master of Laws to address her concerns had done nothing to diminish that impression. At least, not at first.

When the prince had agreed to show her to the King with little argument, she had expected to be played for a fool and when they had stopped in front of the Kingsguard knights, and he had bidden her to announce herself, she had been sure of it, which had been why she had asked him to announce her himself. He had, and the answer he had received was the same she had been hearing for the whole duration of her stay. The King’s brother could not see him any easier than her and neither could the Princess of Dragonstone, the King’s Heir.

Mayhaps, she had thought, for all his barely veiled hostility, they had a cause in common. This had become about more than just a change, albeit a rather significant one, in an inheritance law.

Despite not getting to speak to the King still, finding herself an ally in the cause of the inheritance law in Ser Elmo Tully, she had believed the tide to be turning in her favor. She cursed her naivety. While the prince’s revelation that the change to the law had not been recorded yet had been a relief, his exchange with the Hand had been baffling, especially the part about the King. As the meeting of the Small Council had shown, she should have given it more thought.

The meeting had been as shocking as it had been revealing. It was more than just the Great Houses that were being undermined, it would seem, and the Hand of the King seemed to be at the center of it. If that were true, the corruption would not be confined to just him. His daughter, the queen, and the Hightowers of Oldtown would likely be involved too. The warning rang loudly in her head. The Hightowers’ allegiance to the Faith would win out over the allegiance to the Crown and to the Realm, but surely, their allegiance to themselves and their own House would win over that too.

If there was one thing for certain, it was that the Realm could not be left in the hands of the Hightowers. It was therefore a great relief that the queen’s children came only after her kin in the succession, even though said kin brought a whole new set of issues of her own…

Jeyne had truly tried not to think on the matter of her cousin’s daughter and her affairs. She was the Princess of Dragonstone, the King’s declared Heir, the youngest dragonrider in history, and her line was secured with three living sons from as many pregnancies. She had done her duty where Jeyne herself had stalled, unwilling to subject herself to the danger of usurpation of her autonomy by an ambitious husband and fearful of leaving the Vale without both a ruler and an heir should she succumb to the childbed.

However, the Princess of Dragonstone was not at all like she had imagined her to be. Jeyne had been stunned by the discoveries made during the council meeting, and she had been appalled by the princess’ reaction. How had she not noticed anything? How could she let herself be excluded from all the decision-making? From all the meetings of the King’s Council? How could she allow herself not to be treated as the Heir to the Iron Throne and not do anything about it at all? How?

Even as the Hand and the Master of Laws argued, she had displayed no initiative. She had not intervened to take control of the meeting or the conversation. She had remained an observer, same as all the rest.

Jeyne had not married to avoid usurpation of her authority. The princess ceded her authority freely, just not to her absent husband, but to any man of power. For all her position as the Heir, she believed them to hold a power greater than her, and so they had. How could she expect that to change once the time came for the princess to become the Queen?

She barely suppressed a wince at the lack of knowledge of the workings of the Small Council her kinswoman displayed. Mayhaps of all the things learned that day, that was the most disturbing. Not that the king’s mind was addled, not that the Hand was a traitor. No, it was that no matter how well they might resolve the situation now, in a few moons or years time they were like to find themselves at the same point again, the Hand ruling with no true oversight. Only without the excuse of the ruler’s mind being gone.

As the prince dismissed them, she could not help but despair at the times ahead of them. As the princess had correctly pointed out, he could be considered a claimant as well. Of the three lines of claims most likely to raise to the top, he would be the only one with open hostility toward the Vale. His claim should be the least likely to win, as only the King’s brother, not the King’s child.

And yet the King’s children seemed ill-suited to the position. The Hightowers could not be allowed to take the throne. The princess, despite their kinship and to her great disappointment, had no true ties to the Vale, displayed no interest in it, ruling or the Realm and that was even before one came to consider the security of her line.

As much as she might not like it, she would have to investigate the fitness of the Princess of Dragonstone to the Iron Throne, and she had a dark suspicion as to what the outcome would be already.

When they left the council chamber, she approached her kinswoman with a curtsy and a smile. “Princess Rhaenyra, it is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

The princess seemed startled for but a moment before returning her greeting with a smile. “Lady Arryn, the pleasure is mine. I hope that I can count on your support in the Great Council, cousin?”

That was entirely too direct and yet could not go without an answer either, so she kept her smile in place. “House Arryn always defended the best interests of the Vale, and it seems clear now that House Hightower works against them.”

The smile on the princess' face became more natural. “My father’s wishes on the matter have always been clear. I am his Heir, and it is in the best interest of the Realm for me to succeed him.”

“Why?”

She startled the princess again. “Pardon me, my lady?”

Jeyne’s smile widened. “Discounting the House of their mother, why should the Realm choose you over your brothers, princess?”

The princess’ lips thinned for a moment. “It is the King’s wish. I am his eldest child, the only offspring of his first marriage. I am part Arryn on my mother’s side, yet I am still three quarters Targaryen. My brothers may be half Targaryens, but are all Andal.”

“I see.” And she did. As far as arguments went, the princess had none. “So it comes down to the purity of the blood? Had you married anyone other than Laenor Velaryon, Valyrian and half Targaryen himself, would you put your brothers as your heirs over your sons due to their blood being purer?”

The princess laughed. “Of course not.”

Jeyne regarded the princess seriously. Then what weight do you expect me to put into it? Why should the Realm not simply select the one with the purest Targaryen blood of all?

This was far from ideal. If she could not find a reason to vote for Rhaenyra in good conscience, others would not either. Others that would hold her sex against the princess where Jeyne would not. She had to find a good reason. Otherwise, she might yet have to support Prince Daemon’s claim and hope for the prince to have a short memory and be gracious in his victory, if she wished to prevent further ascendancy of the Hightowers. Some hope.

Chapter Text

The next day dawned too bright and too soon for his tastes. There was too much that needed doing and too many people to speak to. Too many of those people would only seek to make him more miserable, he was sure. What was the point of getting up?

Oh, right. He was supposed to care about this, He was supposed to want this. He would much rather just take Laena and their children and fly far, far away. But even that was not possible now with Vhagar…nesting.

That was surely good. Unless, she managed to bring the Red Keep down, which would of course not be. If Daemon was right, they might have eggs and have them accessible by the time the babe was born. After the last eggs that Meleys bore were given to Baela and Rhaena, he had held no hope for more. And now Vhagar might bear some. Vhagar, the oldest of all living dragons. Surely, it was a sign from the Gods. A gift, Laena might say, and Daemon was no longer so sure he could dispute that.

He turned to his side to look at her peaceful sleeping face and slowly stretched out a hand to ever so carefully lay it on her belly. Mayhaps it all truly was a gift. Mayhaps he could allow himself to be hopeful instead of fearful for once.

Moving the blanket covering his wife’s belly out of the way cautiously, doing his best not to disturb her rest, he gently laid his cheek there, next to his hand. He pressed a soft kiss there and stroked softly with his thumb. A hand came to play with his hair and he shut his eyes in resignation. He had not wanted her to witness this. That might have been too much to ask for, it being her belly, and all.

He stayed there despite it, before moving up to peck her lips and then pushing away from her to get up. “Sleep.” The command fell from his lips without thought, tiredness always the most prominent of the symptoms of her condition. She gave him a drawn smile at the word, eyelids half-closed, and turned onto her side away from him.

Heading to the White Sword Tower first, he hoped to find Ser Harrold there. He had little wish to go hunting for him all over the Keep. And the luck must have truly been with him, for he found him in the common room at the foot of the tower, talking with his sworn brothers.

“Ser Harrold, would you have some time to discuss matters of security with me?”

The Lord Commander’s eyebrows jumped up at seeing him and hearing his words as he rose from his seat. “Security, my prince?”

He flexed his jaw in annoyance. “Aye, security. Do you have the time now?”

Despite appearing utterly baffled by Daemon’s presence in the tower still, he followed him out and fell in step with him in the corridor as the Master of Laws led the way to his office.

Once there, Daemon threw himself into the chair behind the desk and motioned for the Kingsguard to take a seat opposite. “I hope that you had a good night’s sleep, ser. I mean to call another session of the Small Council before noon. There is still much to discuss.”

The Lord Commander nodded, sat down and waited silently for him to continue.

“First things first. Would Prince Aegon be aware of any matters pertaining to the security of the Red Keep that could be exploited by an enemy of the Crown? Guard stations? Schedules? Secret passages?” Gods, he hoped he did not have the knowledge of the last one, at the very least.

The Kingsguard appeared startled by the questions and leaned back with a frown. “Is there a cause for concern, my prince?”

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I meant to share this with the king in the meeting yesterday, but it was somewhat derailed.” Dropping his hand to the table, he looked the knight in the eye. “I received news from Lys that Prince Aegon is there. He had married a daughter of the Rogare family. They are a family of Lyseni bankers that made their money in pleasure slaves.”

Ser Harrold seemed to be measuring his words. “The prince is thirteen and did not have the king’s leave to marry.” There was much left unsaid.

Daemon gave him a thin smile. “I may not know the prince well, but I have known enough thirteen-year-old boys to know that not a single one of them would rush into a marriage. We must assume that Prince Aegon and Sunfyre have both fallen into the hands of the Triarchy and are now under their influence. We must make sure that the Keep remains secure, so I ask again. Would he have knowledge of any of it?”

The Lord Commander frowned in thought, raising his hand to stroke his beard. “Not of the passages, no.” There was a grimace twisting his features. “As for the rest, he would not think to know it, but much could be extracted from him under correct circumstances.” Aye, tongues tended to loosen under torture.

“Then see to it, that any information he may possess proves inaccurate.”

The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard gave a grim nod.

 “On to the next topic, then. Otto Hightower. Where did you put him?”

The knight hesitated. “He was confined to his chambers in the Tower of the Hand.”

Daemon did not bother hiding a grimace of his own. Not ideal. Far from it. “Have him moved elsewhere. Ideally in the cells the highborn are usually held in but in a cell for certain. He may have a way out of the tower, and we would not wish for him to escape before his trial.”

“Very well, my prince.”

“No one is to visit him and no one is to speak to him. Not even his daughter. Are we clear?” His voice was stern.

“Aye, my prince.” The knight’s voice was even.

The man was a great conversationalist, and it was getting on his nerves. He pinched the bridge of his nose again. “And lastly, if there are any tremors, shakes or new cracks in the walls, floors or anywhere, I want to know immediately. If there is a sustained shaking for any length of time, I want people out of the Keep without delay. Do not wait for an order.”

The knight was blinking at him mutely, stunned, before finding his tongue once more. “My prince?”

He pressed his lips tightly together. “Vhagar has decided to make a new cave in the cliff on which the Red Keep stands. I do not believe there to be a danger at present.” Or at all, hopefully. The distance and the location seemed safe enough to him. “However, I would prefer to be vigilant rather than dead under a massive pile of rubble.”

The Kingsguard’s voice was weak. “I see.” He hesitated before asking a question. “Could the dragon not be persuaded otherwise?”

Daemon’s lips twisted in a cold smirk. “I invite you to try, good ser.”

Then, not receiving a reply, he nodded seriously. “Very well. If there is nothing else, Ser Harrold, I will not keep you any longer.”

The knight cleared his throat, indicating that there indeed was something else. “You left the badge of your office in the Small Council chamber yesterday, my prince.”

A sharp gaze pierced the man. “No, I did not. That is not a badge of my office. I am but the Master of Laws.”

“Be that as it may, you are going to be holding the office of the Hand for the foreseeable future, my prince.”

He responded slowly. “No, I will not. Only the King or the Regent name the Hand and as I was named to the office by neither, I am still only the Master of Laws.”

It was the Lord Commander’s turn to press his lips tightly together. “It would reaffirm that Ser Otto is not the Hand anymore, dissuade people from questioning his arrest, from following his orders.”

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose again . The man had a point and he hated it. Rubbing his hand over his eyes in resignation, he let out a heavy sigh. “Very well, I will wear it.”

Ser Harrold nodded and reached out a hand to lay the blasted pin on the table in front of him, with a slight upturn in a corner of his lips. “Here you go, my Lord Hand. I took the liberty to collect it for you yesterday.”

Smug bastard.

Chapter Text

Alicent had been quite confused to have been called to the Small Council chamber to escort her husband back to his chambers. Viserys had seemed quite well and capable of moving on his own when she had seen him the day before. Though the fact that he had finally emerged from his seclusion to call the Small Council without even a word to her was notable in its causal dismissal of her and her feelings. But she had grown used to that over the years. She had never been a person worthy of consideration to her father or her husband. Not her. Never her.

She had been warned of it long ago, and she had scoffed and dismissed the words of advice. Looking back on that time, on the fool that that girl had been, she could weep. Had she listened, she could have married a man of her own choosing, a man that would care for her, a man closer to her age and temperament. But the girl had thought herself clever, she had thought herself well-informed of her father’s ambitions for her, she had thought to reach for the sun and had found herself deeply insulted at the very notion that her infatuation had been being used for her father’s plans.

What a fool Alicent had been. She had been offered a way out, and she had refused. First her and then her children were sentenced to abide by her father’s plans for them, and she could only pray that her husband’s health would allow for him to remain their shield for as long as needed. Were she brave enough to pray to the Stranger for it, she would. For her children, she would.

But when she had escorted Viserys back to his chambers the day before, she had known. She had come to understand that even alive, he might no longer be the shield they needed. Alicent sat by her husband’s side until late in the night, reading from The Seven-Pointed Star to him, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. She had witnessed this once before. This man’s life would not protect anyone anymore.

When she had finally returned to her dark chambers, she had not bothered calling for her maids to help her undress, and crawled into her bed to cry herself to sleep. They were doomed. They were all doomed. Her children were too young, her father too determined, her husband too gone, Alicent too alone.

Somehow she had drifted off into an uneasy sleep, her dreams plagued by dragonfire raining down from the sky, her children’s ashes blowing away on a wind and a scornful voice ringing throughout. Fool girl, can’t you see he is just using you? 

The sun was high in the sky when she woke, her head aching, throat dry and eyes burning. She let her maids undress her when she rose from the bed, refusing a fresh dress, choosing to remain in a dressing gown instead. Her maids would not meet her eyes. That was not unusual since her son had started to take interest in them and her having to release one maid after another from her service.

She took a window seat in the outer chamber and took The Seven-Pointed Star with her to look busy as her eyes looked out at the sky. There were no dragons roaming it, and yet Alicent would have sworn she could hear a faint roar in the distance. She did not bother hiding a shiver that shook her body as the sound reached her ears. Her ladies were already shooting her pitying glances surreptitiously anyway. What was one more weakness on display?

The wind carried another distant roar to her ears, and she bit down on her lip to stop its trembling. Fool girl, can’t you see he is just using you? The voice had been full of scorn and the eyes had been full of pity.

She did not turn away from the window as Prince Daemon was announced, her shoulders slumping further in resignation. She had little wish to see him now.

“Good morrow, good-sister.” His voice was even as he greeted her. He did not call her Your Grace. He never had.

“Good morrow, good-brother.” Her voice was even, too. Let him say what he came to say and be done with it.

“I came to speak to you of your son.” He paused, mayhaps expecting a reaction out of her, but none came, and so he continued. “There has been news of Prince Aegon from Lys.” So they had found him and his freedom was at an end. Her father would see to it.

The prince’s pause was longer now, mayhaps at a loss at her lack of reaction. But what was she meant to do? To say? Her father was the one that would be taking action, and there was nothing she could do to stop him. She had had not even courage enough to pray to the Stranger.

His words when he spoke again seemed carefully chosen. “The prince married a daughter of a Lyseni banker family, one Marra Rogare. There were many witnesses.”

Startled breath left her, and she blinked at the vast blue sky without comprehension. What? Her son, her boy, married? How? Why? She pitied the poor girl.

“Due to the king’s condition, it was decided that a Great Council will be held to decide a future ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.” Her lack of outward reaction likely had him unsettled, and a note of puzzlement grew noticeable as he pressed on. “A formal notice of this will be sent to Lys to your son as one of the claimants. If you wish, you may send someone you trust along.”

There was little need to tell her this. Whomever she decided to send, she was sure her father would overrule her wishes anyway, and so she told him. “Let my father send whoever he believes best suited.”

There was a blessed silence for a few moments, and she closed her eyes to relish it. Therefore, it was all the more jarring when he spoke once more.

“No.”

The single word startled her in its resoluteness and in its finality, almost making her react visibly. Still, her tone was light as she questioned it. “Whyever not? Is he not the Hand of the King?”

There were startled intakes of breath from her ladies. She had forgotten them there.

The prince was silent for a long while. So long, that she thought him done speaking. Good. She had little wish to see him. She wished even less to hear him speak.

Still, he spoke again, with marked hesitation. “No, he is not. He was arrested for treason yesterday.”

A startled gasp left her, and she almost turned her head to face him. Almost.

“Why?”

“For keeping the king’s condition from the council and his heir.”

His heir. Of course. Rhaenyra could not be discounted. She frowned at the sky. But then…

“What is the Great Council being held for?”

He sighed. “Your father claimed that the king signed a decree proclaiming your son his heir. There is little trust to be put in the document, even if it exists, given the king’s condition. The question of succession will be put to a vote in the Great Council.”

A mad hope started to rise in her chest. Mayhaps their doom could be avoided yet. Whatever the realm decided, Rhaenyra would have little cause to kill her siblings. Either they would reject her utterly and killing her siblings would be meaningless, or they would support her claim and the deaths of her siblings would be needless.

“If you wish, you may attend the Small Council session later this day. The Great Council and arrangements for it will doubtless be one of the topics discussed.” There was a softness to his voice, as if speaking to a frightened animal, but she was no longer frightened. No, she was not frightened anymore. Alicent was growing hopeful for the first time in so, so long.

Mayhaps the Seven had finally heard her prayers after all these years.

She chanced a look at the prince. There was a pity in those eyes. She hated him and his eyes full of pity.

A fire blazed in her eyes and her chin rose imperiously. “I will. You may leave now, good-brother.”

A corner of his lips lifted in amusement as he inclined his head, and the fire in her veins burned hotter. She glared at his back as he left. She was no fool girl now.

Chapter Text

Daemon waited for the Small Council to gather, deep in thought. 

Alicent Hightower was a strange creature, bound by chains of her own making, bowing to every whim of every man in her life. First her father, then her husband and eventually her son. She seemed to be possessed of little agency of her own, and yet sometimes a fire of determination seemed to spark to life in her, bringing her to life. It was altogether strange to witness.

Her behavior and her actions were entirely baffling to him at times. Guessing her next moves became a futile endeavor as she diverged further and further away from known patterns. He wondered whether her mind had finally broken under all the pressure. It did not seem a remote possibility.

Shaking off his thoughts at her entrance, he inclined his head at her. She responded with a thin smile and seated herself at what he assumed was her usual place at what would be the king’s right side. How touching. Only the king’s seat separated them, as Daemon himself took the Hand’s seat to the left of the king’s seat.

Rhaenyra entered next, with her mother’s cousin by her side, presenting a pleasant smile to the world until her gaze fell on her stepmother and her face hardened as she seated herself. She did not acknowledge either of them, and Daemon did not bother in response. 

Jeyne Arryn seemed quite put upon as she seated herself at the same place she had occupied the day before, the barely concealed annoyance she had on her face as she had come in not fading in the least. Tully and Stark came in conversation with each other, and his good-father was close behind them. Next came the Grand Maester and the Master of Coin, with the harried looking Lord Commander of the Kingsguard arriving last, the door closing behind him with a bang.

The eyes sweeping over all the invited, he resolved to focus on the points at hand, hoping not to get distracted along the way. While the Small Council could be usually counted on to proceed along the planned points, the addition of the princess and the queen along with the three Great Houses might stir up trouble for him.

“Thank you all for coming. There were quite a few revelations yesterday that kept us from discussing the agenda, which we truly should have. Still, at least some arrangements for the Great Council should be discussed first.”

Looking around the table, no one seemed to be in disagreement with him yet, everyone looking back at him in silence. A tiny bit of tension left him. “Grand Maester, I would ask you to write to the Citadel to ask for the presence of Archmaester Vaegon. It is my understanding that he was crucial in setting up the last one, which should make things somewhat easier.”

The Grand Maester did not appear to look forward to his duty, but then again, few and far between were people that looked forward to anything that included his cantankerous uncle Vaegon. Still, it needed to be done.

“Also, since the last council had gathered over many moons, is there a time you would propose as the most advantageous to hold it, Grand Maester?” He knew his own preference, but that was hardly practical.

The maester frowned in thought, his words slow as he pondered them while speaking. “A Great Council includes a vast number of the realm’s lords, which means that not only all of them need to be invited, but also given enough time to arrive. I do not believe that setting it up any less than three moons from now would allow for that.” 

The frown deepened. “Though, as was observed at the last council, even six moons were not enough for all that wished to attend to make the journey.” A grimace twisted the Grand Maester’s features, and he darted a look at Daemon. “Considering the King’s condition and Ser Otto’s imprisonment, I would advise against waiting for six moons to hold it. The realm needs proper guidance, and it needs one soon.”

Daemon resisted a smile. The Grand Maester sounded as if he did not believe the realm to be in good hands in his own. Not that he had expected otherwise, but still.

“So not three, but less than six. That is your advice?”

The Grand Maester hesitated as it became clear that the lack of answer was doing him no favors. “Four moons should be enough for even the more remote lords of the North to attend, if they so wished.”

Daemon’s eyes found Lord Stark. “Do you agree with that assessment, my lord Stark?”

Receiving a grim nod in response, he had some doubt of that still. The Northern lords’ attendance had been light the last time, even with the six moons they had to travel to Harrenhal.

He sighed and addressed the Master of Coin. “Lord Beesbury, please reach out to Harrenhal and let them know that a Great Council is being called in four moons time and to prepare the castle for the arrival of the lords of the realm. Let them know that the Iron Throne recognizes that there is an increased cost to them associated with such, and that they will be properly compensated. I will leave the discussion of specifics in your hands as the Master of Coin.” He hesitated for a beat, somewhat confused. “Also, make sure to let us know who holds the castle at present with Lord Larys’ unexpected death.”

“Harrenhal?” That was his niece’s voice, but he did not move his eyes to her. “Why would you hold a Great Council there and not here?” Her annoyance was plain enough, but that was only to be expected.

He did look at her with an amused smile. “Harrenhal’s position and size makes it the natural choice for a place to hold a Great Council. There is also a precedent and we will be keeping with it.” He wondered whether more reasons were needed, but added one for good measure. “There is also the fact that King’s Landing is simply full of people and mischief at the best of times. If a thousand lords and their entourages were added to the mix, the City Watch would have to be increased by an order of magnitude.” Unlike most denizens of King’s Landing, those entourages were like to be armed and trained, too.

There was a pout on her face as he finished, Lord Beesbury nodding along. The Master of Coin doubtless thought of the pain such increase would cause to the treasury.

The Grand Maester coughed. “My prince, upon some reflection, I do not believe that four moons will be enough for all claimants to assemble. Prince Aegon is still missing, after all.”

“Prince Aegon is the reason Queen Alicent is present as well in this meeting.” Casting a look in her direction, he continued. “The prince was found to be in Lys. He is married now to a Lyseni noblewoman, Marra Rogare. A notice of the council will have to be sent there, and I asked the queen to select her representative.” 

His eyes turned to the Lord Commander. “It would be mayhaps beneficial to include a Kingsguard in the delegation, but I leave that decision in your hands, Lord Commander.” Said man inclined his head with a downward twist to his mouth, and Daemon belatedly realized that the Kingsguard was still short a member and unlikely to gain a new one before the Great Council concluded.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he came to the disgruntled realization that there were simply too many things left to deal with, many of them simply slipping from their minds as the chaos of past moons just kept unfolding. While much of it was centered around or triggered by himself, and he was willing to admit that, much of it was not.

“Which actually brings us the fact that one of the possible claimants, Prince Aegon, is currently in the hands of Lyseni.” There had been surprisingly little reaction to his words. Either the rumors flew even faster than he expected, or no one really cared about the Triarchy at all. He somewhat suspected it was the latter.

“Lys is part of the Triarchy and therefore an enemy of the Crown. If the prince does not arrive for the council with Sunfyre in tow, the Iron Throne may have no other choice than to act to contain the threat of a dragon in possession of the enemy.”

The Grand Maester thought it a good idea to interject. “My prince, the Triarchy is no enemy of the Iron Throne. It is you and Lord Corlys that warred against them, and even you settled your conflicts with them some years past.”

Daemon stared at him in utter disbelief. “While you might believe that, I assure you that the Triarchy does not. They are certainly a threat to the Seven Kingdoms.” His eyes darted to Ser Harrold again. “As such, I asked the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard to make some changes to the security of the Red Keep. Hopefully, none of you will find them too disruptive.”

Pausing for a few moments, he let the topic die a natural death. He was growing tired of the meeting already, and barely anything was discussed so far.

“Can we rest assured that the inheritance law will not be updated, then, my prince?” That was the Tully knight jumping in with a smile. He wondered how he arrived at that destination from the Triarchy.

“Any changes to laws will have to wait until after the Great Council convenes.” He was looking at Tully puzzled, as his lips stretched in an amused smile.

“I do not believe they hold to the Seven in Lys, do they?” Tully chortled to himself. “Imagine two princes with their marriages invalidated due to a change of one word in the inheritance law!”

Rhaenyra seemingly perked up at the words. “Two?”

“Prince Daemon and Prince Aegon both, isn’t that right?” Tully’s eyes finally turned to Daemon, and he visibly withered under the prince’s gaze.

He gritted out the reply. “Aye.”

His niece smiled at him pleasantly. “Oh, uncle, that would be most unfortunate. Why, it might even upset your wife. We would not want that now, would we?”

Was that a threat?

His good-father was looking between them quizzically.

Daemon allowed his lips to stretch in a pleasant smile as well. “No, we would not.”

Chapter Text

Corlys held his peace only for as long as it took for the door to close and the two of them to be left alone in the council chamber. “What is wrong with your niece?! And what is all this about not upsetting Laena?”

Daemon would like to know the answer to the first himself, and as for the second… Laena did not wish them to know, and even Rhaenyra guessed upon being asked to reign herself in.

“I have no fucking idea. I grow more and more convinced she is insane.” Plain and simple. Not merely grieving. Not merely spoiled. Not merely ill-informed. Not merely incompetent. No, fucking insane.

Worse, he had no idea how to deal with her now. His word had held little to no sway in her decisions after he had married her, and he had not worried over it until the war. There had been few decisions he had wished to truly sway her in until then. Just two to be exact. There had been no swaying of the queen once the war started in earnest, for to listen to the word of the Protector of the Realm would be to show weakness. He might have as well titled himself the court jester, for all that his word had been listened to at it.

That future was past and gone, never to be again. And yet it informed Daemon’s present still, and he liked it not. If Rhaenyra truly was insane, then likely she had been before as well. Before, when he had fought a war in her name and followed her every command, however much he disagreed with it. Every command until she had ordered Netty’s death. Netty, who had done nothing wrong, fighting for her queen, witnessing horrors no man should have to see, much less a girl her age. Netty, who had been so much like he had been, and who had become his last tether to sanity.

He shook his head to rid himself of the reminiscent mood, and rubbed his face for good measure. He would not allow all of that to come to pass again. And yet… He had thought to dance around Rhaenyra, to remain in her good graces, to remain her beloved uncle, to shield her from harm. He had deemed taking the throne from her a harm enough and wished to visit upon her no more.

But somehow Rhaenyra had made herself into a threat. A threat not to his ambitions, no, but to his happiness. Or rather to the health and happiness of his wife, which he very much considered his own. He had no idea how to deal with that. How does one deal with a person they loved since that person had drawn their first breath, suddenly becoming an unpredictable foe with deeply malicious intent?

“Daemon, truly, what is going on?” The voice was full of concern. Right. Corlys. He forgot about him.

“I wonder if I should send Laena and the children back to Driftmark.” He had no power to send Rhaenyra away, and he did not wish any harm to come to Laena or the babe because of her.

A scoff left his good-father. “So you can carry on with Rhaenyra?”

He choked. “What? You know-” 

Corlys pressed his lips firmly together. “You know that it matters little what either of us know. If Laena leaves with Rhaenyra behaving as she does, people will think you two to be in cahoots.” That was a rather polite way to put it for his good-father.

That left Daemon at a loss, feeling defeated and helpless and wary. “What am I to do then?”

“ Talk to her. Make yourself plain enough for even her to understand.”

Talking to her had left Daemon worse off every time so far. She had not taken to heart even a word of what he had said.

He nodded, disheartened.

They had wished to keep Rhaenyra unaware that he and the Velaryons may not be entirely on her side anymore, and so Daemon had been careful not to break her trust in him entirely. Rhaenyra might be clueless, but if the other Blacks witnessed a break in their relationship, they might take actions against them, making their lives more difficult. The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and the Master of Coin, chief among them. They had been largely supportive of his actions so far as they believed them to be to Rhaenyra’s benefit. Things were like to change soon.

Upon returning to their chambers, he found his wife to be embroidering in the company of her new lady. He paused by the door, leaning against its frame, and watched her at it. She had not had much time for it since the twins had been born, despite giving it a valiant attempt while expecting Aemon, especially in the latter months. He smirked. She had likely failed to realize that the decrease in her mobility made her an easier target.

The sunlight coming through the windows was giving her a shining halo and her beauty was highlighted by it, ethereal and hardly of this world. She was smiling softly at the embroidery loop in her hands, corners of her lips twitching at whatever it was her lady was prattling on about. His heart seized in pain and his throat clogged.

The ladies turned their attention to him as he coughed to dislodge the blockage to his airway, and Laena’s smile widened to see him.

“Husband, I have missed you.” Her eyes were very, very warm as she regarded him.

His feet moved of their own volition, and he was leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek soon enough. “I have missed you too, wife.” His fingers lingered on her face to caress the apple of her cheek before slipping below to tilt her chin up, and so he could press a soft kiss to her lips as well.

There was a soft giggle from the side, and he straightened in alarm when he realized his soft kiss had lingered. In front of witnesses. A witness, that is, but still.

He inclined his head to Lady Priscilla and ran his hands over his clothes, suddenly uncomfortable. 

Laena took hold of one of his roving hands and looked up into his face, eyes shining with hope. “Will you join us for a while?”

Well, how was he to refuse her when she looked at him like that? So he took a chair from a table and brought it over to join them, positioning it to best take her in as she sat in the window seat.

Laena followed his actions with a smile, returning her attention to her embroidering loop only once he was seated. “How was the council meeting?”

Beginning with light conversation, are we? He rolled his eyes. “A pain.”

A twitch of lips. “How very informative, husband.”

He laid an ankle across a knee and crossed his arms defensively. “ Well, it was. With both the queen and my dear niece there, it could be little else. ”

“ Oh, was the queen very vexing? ”

He could not hold back a grimace. “ No. ”

Laena was looking at him, amusement clear in her eyes. “ Why, husband, you are truly a well of information today. ” She blinked as her snark did not get her a reaction she likely expected and frowned. “ What did Rhaenyra do? ”

Turning his eyes to the ceiling, he wondered how to even phrase it. She had not truly done anything, but a lot was implied and none of it good. He shrugged awkwardly. “ She implied she would not heed my request not to upset you. Indeed, she might take any and all available avenues to do so. ” 

Even mayhaps supporting a law that would cost her allies all over and have little true effect on Daemon, his marriage, or his children besides in fact upsetting his wife. Despite however that fool Tully phrased it, the validity of his marriage could not be questioned. It was done in Valyrian tradition, binding their blood forevermore. No one and nothing could tear them asunder.

“ Why? What does she have to gain by that? ”

Who knows? Daemon certainly did not, and so he shrugged again. “ I gave up on guessing at her motivations. She is fucking insane. ”

There was a choking sound from the direction of Lady Priscilla, and his ears burned a bit as he realized what he had said. Right. Celtigar. He turned his head to her. “ My apologies for the coarse language, my lady. ”

Her cheeks red, she gave him a gracious nod. “ No apologies necessary, my prince. ” 

It was long past dusk that they returned from inspecting Vhagar’s excavating efforts.

Meleys had retreated as far from her as possible while remaining in the cove still, but Caraxes had seemed to have joined in on the fun. And while Vhagar might be taking the burrowing quite seriously, the Blood Wyrm seemed to truly delight in it. Daemon had rarely seen him enjoy something that did not involve flying or burning something so. But then again, Vhagar’s approach to making a cave did involve burning as well.

Still, their dragons seemed to be doing quite well for themselves and the Red Keep was standing still, with no new fissures having been reported yet, and no tremors noted either.

As they emerged from the tunnel into their bedchamber, Daemon hesitated. He looked at Laena as she moved to remove her clothes and cursed. Taking the few steps to her, he pressed himself to her back and kissed the side of her throat in regret.

“I have to go.”

She turned to him, startled by the unexpected words. “Go?” Her eyes drifted to the still-open tunnel. “Go where?”

Nodding, he sighed. He knew he had to tell her, but there was little he desired to do less than go, mayhaps expect to tell her where. But he had to. He had to do both. And so he kissed her and pressed his forehead to hers, closing his eyes to speak. “I need to speak some sense into Rhaenyra, and it would seem that I must do so without witnesses for what I have to say she will not like in the least.” And her reactions he could no longer even guess at.

There was a deep unhappy frown on her face as he regarded her, eyes tight, teeth biting on her lip. He could see her struggle with letting him go, struggling to believe in him, and he pressed a desperate kiss to her lips. This could end very badly, but he had to try.

His niece was alone in her bedchamber when he emerged from the secret passage. She was alone and asleep in her bed. That was not exactly good, but not unexpected. He had little wish to approach the bed to wake her, so he dropped into a chair by the hearth, making sure to make some noise. Not enough to alert the guards outside the main chamber, but hopefully enough to rouse his niece.

It did prove enough, as the sounds of a person stirring in the bed reached him even before his vigilant eyes could notice it.

Rhaenyra pushed herself up on her elbows and looked around in confusion, her eyes passing over him twice before returning to him.

“Uncle.” A happy smile spread on her face, and his heart broke a little.

His smile was tight in return. “Rhaenyra, I thought we should speak in private.”

Her own smile only widened at his words. “I agree.” She rose from the bed to come and join him by the hearth, seating herself opposite him, reaching for his hand. “ I am glad you finally come to me. I knew they could not keep us apart for long. ”

Frustrated, he took his hand back and crossed his arms. “I have no idea what you mean by that. No one is keeping us apart. I am simply married and have children that need my attention. My priorities shifted.”

An amused chuckle left her. “ I know, uncle. I am married and have children too, remember? You have been married for as long as I remember, and that was never a barrier between us. It not need be one now either. ”

He pressed his lips firmly together to stop himself from snapping at her. “I hated my first wife, and that was no true marriage. I care for my wife and our children, and I will never allow any harm to come to them. Not by an action or by a word. Not yours or anyone else’s. Do you understand that?”

Her eyes were soft. “ I do. Is it so much to wish for you to extend that protection to myself as well? Am I not your beloved niece? ”

She coyly dropped her gaze to play with her hair. “ If it is a marriage you insist on before giving me children, then that can be arranged. ”

He laughed despite himself. “We are both married, niece. Have you forgotten already?”

She gave him a mischievous grin and an innocent shrug. “Y our wife is with child and so soon after birthing one too. Childbed is fraught with peril. ” She carried on brightly despite Daemon’s dawning horror. “ And Laenor’s paramour has expensive tastes. ”

He shot out of his seat. “Are you mad? Truly?”

Somehow, she maintained her smile as she rose. “ You need not worry, uncle. No one will know. They may suspect, but they will have no proof. They will suspect, and they will fear what else we might be capable of. ”

He stared at her in disbelief. How? How could he have been so blind? 

He approached her to stand in front of her, their feet toe to toe, breathing the same air. Her smile was one of victory and her eyes were so, so soft. He laid his hands on her neck lightly, his thumbs beneath her chin, tilting her head back to look him in his eyes as he spoke very, very softly. “If any harm comes either to Laena or to her brother, I will not waste time looking for the culprit. I will come for you directly and snap your neck in my hands like a twig, and then I will feed your corpse to Caraxes myself. Do you understand?”

Finally, finally, there was horror and understanding in her eyes as she nodded weakly.

He let go and strode back to the entrance to the secret passage he used, only pausing for a moment. “No, you are not my beloved niece anymore.”

Chapter Text

He walked swiftly through the tunnels to the chambers he shared with his wife. The chambers where she was doubtless waiting for him. His mind was spinning, spiraling into darkness. 

He had to stop, hand resting against the coarse surface of the wall, and breathe against the sickness rising in him. Surely, surely, this was a new development. Surely, she could not have been capable of this before. Surely, she had not… Surely, he could not have been that blind whilst married to her. Oh Gods, please, please, let it be a new development.

Stop. He needed to stop thinking. He couldn’t think about this anymore. His mind was spinning with things he knew — knew! — couldn't be true, and bile was rising in his throat. He ordered his feet to move, and they folded beneath him instead, his chest tight with breaths he couldn’t take.

Blinking, he stared at his hands braced on the ground in confusion. Why were his hands on the ground? For that matter, why was Daemon feeling so light-headed? He needed… He needed to get up. Get up and get to his wife. His brilliant, beautiful, breathtaking wife, who believed Daemon a person rather than a tool. His wife that was alive, that would remain alive, that would not leave him, would not leave their children again.

Staggering to his feet once more, he walked the path to their bedchamber unsteadily as if drunk, throat tight.

Opening the hidden door, he was relieved to be proven right and to see her up, not having retired for the night yet, waiting for him. Taking long steps to where she paced, he took her into his arms abruptly and held on, hiding his face in her hair.

She stiffened in surprise in his embrace to begin with, but loosened as moments passed, and a hesitant hand rose to stroke his hair. 

“Was it that bad?” Her question was so soft it was barely audible.

Taking a shaky breath and hugging her closer, he sought to meld their bodies into one. “Worse.”

He had lost both Viserys and Rhaenyra in a span of days, irretrievably. There was little of the family he had been born into left to him. Nothing truly. And whatever bonds of affinity held them together still, he would render asunder.

One of his hands rose to turn her face up gently, and he kissed her until they were both breathless, only to kiss her again and again as he guided them to the bed. As they landed on it, and he continued to press kisses into his wife’s skin, he could not help but remember how hopeful he had been, laying with her in that bed just that morning. For just a day, he had truly believed .

He stopped as a sudden clarity came over him, and he stared at Laena, flushed and breathless beneath him, eyes hooded, lips swollen red and so, so inviting.

“Marry me.”

She blinked at him in utter befuddlement, her forehead marred by a frown. “ Marry you?” Her brow raised in question and her lips quirked in amusement. “Are we not married already, husband?”

A smile spread on his face. Aye. Aye, they were. But Daemon remembered tying his blood to Rhaenyra’s as well, and he needed to scrape that memory from his mind. He needed to make sure that there was no confusion. Not in him and not to the Gods. Most importantly, not to the Gods. He would eke out as many blessings and as much protection out of the Gods for Laena and for the babe as possible.

He pecked her lips playfully. “Let us bind our blood together once more, then. Renew our pledge to each other and to the Gods.”

Her brows were scrunched as she watched him, eyes bewildered still as her hands rose to his face and her thumbs stroke over his cheeks gently. In the face of her silence, he felt a burning need to justify himself further. “Our children have never witnessed a Valyrian wedding, let us show them one.”

A corner of her lips twitched. “It would have been quite uncommon, were our children at our wedding.”

A growl left him at her wit. “Valyrian weddings are quite rare these days, as you well know. Let us show them.”

Finding only confusion and indecision in her eyes, he moved to strengthen his arguments with persuasive actions, returning to peppering kisses along the column of her throat and then all over her body.

He would convince her, he was sure, and the effort would be far from arduous.

Having secured Laena’s agreement on the ceremony, he set off for a visit of his good-parents right after breaking fast with his family. Their assistance would be crucial. And, as much as his wife might not like it, their knowledge as well.

He found them seated at a table, food still arrayed in front of them. It was doubtless meant to be a slow morning.

Rhaenys greeted him with an amused smile. “Cousin, whatever do we owe the pleasure of your company to?”

His answering smile was much less amused. “ Cousin, good morrow. You owe my presence to your husband’s wise suggestion. ” After all, Daemon had known nothing good would come from speaking to Rhaenyra. He had just underestimated how bad it would be.

Her eyes darted to Corlys, whose lips thinned at Daemon’s words and her countenance turned serious. “ What is it? And should we not speak of it while visiting the dragons? ”

While that would have likely been true before Vhagar commenced her burrowing, they would be hardly able to hear their own thoughts there, much less each other. There was also not-so-inconsiderable possibility of tempers flaring, and that was certainly not safe near dragons.

“ We should, but we cannot. ” He shrugged and seated himself at the table as well.

Both of them were looking at him quizzically, so he cleared his throat. “ Vhagar is making herself a cave. The noise is not quite conducive to conversation. ” He coughed some more. “ Mayhaps it would be a good idea to move Meleys elsewhere, she does not seem quite happy to be there. ”

Rhaenys’ brows only rose further as she folded her arms across her chest and leaned back in her seat. Daemon could feel heat climbing up the back of his neck, the ears starting to burn too. He coughed some more. “ We believe she might be…eh…nesting. ”

Her eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. “ Vhagar. Nesting. How fascinating. ” Her tone was flat, and he had to dedicate all of his willpower to resist fidgeting under her gaze.

He coughed again.

“ That is quite a cough you have there, Daemon. Have you had it looked at? ” 

He shot an amused Corlys a betrayed glare and valiantly fought off the urge to clear his throat again. Shaking his head, he viciously pushed the reluctance down and decided to approach the topic he wished to speak of from an entirely different angle.

His bearing became somber, his tone grave. “ There were some threats against your children heavily implied when I spoke to Rhaenyra. I made explicit threats against her person if any harm should come to either in return. ” He was clenching his jaw tight once more as he regarded their grave expressions. “ Qarl Correy might need to be taken care of sooner, rather than later. And Laena needs healers by her side that can be trusted. ”

Rhaenys’ eyes were cutting. “ What would Laena need healers for? ”

Daemon turned his eyes to the ceiling and prayed for mercy. “ Laena does not wish for you to know because she believes you would be… displeased with me to find out, so I would ask you to withhold any negative reaction until after she deems it safe to tell you. ”

Her gaze was burning holes into him, he was sure, but he could not see it, so it was alright.

“ You got her with child. Again. ” 

His nod was barely a movement. 

Dishes jumped on the table as a hand collided with it, and he fought to suppress a wince. “ Have you truly no sense?! To risk her so and so soon too? After all that you told us? ”

It was not like he had not asked himself that either. It was not like he did not fear it still. And yet, a cold spread over him to hear it voiced by her, and his voice turned frigid in response. “ Laena and I have discussed the options, and she deemed the risk to be acceptable. ”

He rose to his feet so his cousin would not stand over him. “ Laena made her decision, and we will not question her on it. We will not make her doubt herself and we will not make her defend it, and we will not let her see the slightest bit of displeasure about any of it. ” He stepped closer to her, so they were almost nose to nose. “ Am I making myself clear, cousin? ”

Her eyes were roving over his face, uncertainty plain in them, and so he continued while he had a chance. “ What we can do is get her the best healers that money can buy, whose loyalty we can be sure of. Which is why I would ask you to take Meleys into the Free Cities and search such out. I would recommend inquiring with our cousins in Volantis first. ” And maybe find the blasted tutors at the same time.

She took a step back from him, still looking at him in confusion, even turning to her husband, apparently at a loss.

Corlys was regarding them both with no small dose of amusement, and laughed as her lost gaze met his. “ Do not look to me for support, wife. I am happy enough for yet another grandchild. ” His eyes turned to Daemon. “ Mayhaps consider a Velaryon name for this one? ”

Her eyes turned back to him, still quizzical, and she nodded silently.

He nodded back and smiled at her mischievously. “ Splendid. Though, I would ask you not to depart for a few days yet. Laena and I mean to repeat our wedding ceremony, and we would like you to officiate. ”

There was just one more person to see, and he could call his morning a resounding success.

He had no idea where her chambers were and did not feel the need to inquire after them, but he did know where she would be heading and that was good enough.

His wife’s sole lady in waiting startled as she rounded a corner into Maegor’s and came upon him, lounging against a wall. She dropped a curtsy and a greeting despite the surprise. “Good morrow, my prince.”

Inclining his head slightly, he reciprocated. “Lady Priscilla, good morrow. It occurred to me that we have not spoken privately before, and we ought to if you are to serve my wife.”

Her eyes were wide as she regarded him with rapt attention, and so he continued easily. “House Celtigar voted for my cousin Rhaenys at the Great Council, did it not?” At her mute nod, he carried on. “And if I recall correctly, much of the riches of House Celtigar originates from the trade the rise of Driftmark in prominence brought, does it not?” Another mute nod. “Good.”

House Celtigar had always been loyal first to themselves, to the Velaryons second and the Crown distant third. Hopefully, the girl would remember and hold true to that.

“My lady wife informs me that you are aware of her condition, and I would like to make sure you know what it means for you.”

Her eyebrows drew together in a frown. “Me, my prince?”

A pleasant smile spread on his face. “Aye, you. If any harm should come to her on your watch, I will hold you personally responsible, is that clear?”

Chapter Text

The nursery remained alight with children’s laughter even after her husband’s departure, Daemon having somehow identified the best opportunity to leave without causing upset to speak with her parents. She was loath to bring an end to their games, so she bade her time until their energy waned somewhat, attending to Aemon until he fell asleep. Then, after a bit of thought, she started to root around the chests and cupboards for the supplies she would need to show the children.

Frustration came over her, as she found almost everything, coming short of a rather surprising ingredient. Turning to one of the nurses, she asked in exasperation. “Do we truly not have any red paint left?”

A startled gaze and an embarrassed headshake were her unsatisfying answer. 

She put her hands on her hips and looked around as the children started to settle, with their gazes suddenly attentive to her at the words of paint. Shaking her head, she bit down on a smile.

There was much to do, even if the day when they would hold the ceremony was not set yet. Spotting Lady Priscilla, who must have come in while she was distracted, her smile widened. Suddenly there was some use for a lady in her employ.

“Lady Priscilla, I find myself in need of good dressmakers with high quality of fabrics, well-used to working with children. Do you think you will be able to find and bring such to me along with samples? I must admit that I am unfamiliar with the offerings in the capital.” And her husband would be deeply displeased for her to venture out with the children and without proper guard, meaning without him.

The lady was surprised to be addressed with a true task all of a sudden, but smiled readily. “There are dressmakers my family employs when at court, I believe would serve well. I shall go inquire with them. Does my lady have any specific requirements in mind?”

Laena laughed. “Just that they be able to provide clothes befitting children of Houses Targaryen and Velaryon to attend a wedding ceremony after nightfall in a rather speedy manner.” She paused. “And please, make sure to take some guards with you.”

The lady nodded and made to turn, but paused and bit down on her lip with a frown. “Pardon me, my lady, but is there to be a wedding then?”

Laughing again, Laena shook her head. “Not exactly. Merely a reenactment of one. My husband persuaded me that our children should know what a Valyrian wedding ceremony looks like.” She shrugged as she continued. “Since we are the only ones we know of that married in one and since there do not appear to be any such weddings in sight any time soon, we will be the ones being wed. Again.”

Lady Priscilla turned fully back to her, wide smile splitting her face, stars in her eyes, hands pressed to her chest. “Oh, that is so romantic! And there will be so much to do! When will it be held? Have you already decided who will be invited?” She finished on a sad sigh, eyes dropping to the ground. “Oh, I have never attended a Valyrian wedding either.”

Laena could not help another laugh escaping. “We do not have a list of guests in mind. It was merely meant for the children to see. My mother will be officiating, since it was my father that wed us the first time.”

“Oh, but you must invite me! And others! Certainly others from the Valyrian Houses in the capital, too. Almost no one keeps to the Old Ways anymore! Please, my lady!”

The lady was pleading earnestly, and she did not have a reply to her. They had not truly discussed inviting others, and Laena would prefer it that way. She certainly had no intention of inviting Rhaenyra, since whatever happened with her was clearly the reason her husband felt a need for this, and not having guests at all would be a good enough reason not to.

Frowning, she decided on a compromise. “You are certainly invited. I will need to think on the rest and consult with my husband. We have truly not planned to make an event out of it.”

“Oh, but it is, my lady. It is!” Lady Priscilla bounced in place, beaming at her. “Oh, but this is so, so wonderful and romantic! Prince Daemon must care for you so, so much!” She clapped her hands in excitement. “Oh, I can’t wait!”

She beamed at Laena silently for a little while, before seemingly remembering her errant and flushing. “I will go arrange for the dressmakers then, my lady. My apologies.” 

She curtsied and was gone, leaving Laena shaking her head with fond exasperation at her antics. The lady was not as much of a burden as she had expected her to be.

The children pounced on her the moment the door closed behind her lady and erupted into chatter, speaking one over the other. “Truly? A wedding! You and kepa! Flowers! There must be lots and lots of flowers!”

She was laughing at them and waited for them to quiet down. “Yes, your kepa and I will show you how we were wed. And no, there are no flowers in a Valyrian ceremony.”

Rhaena’s expression turned wounded and even Naerys’ lips turned down, so Laena was left with weakened defenses when her daughter turned her pleading eyes on her. “Please, muña, please, please, please! There must be flowers!”

Looking into those eyes, she knew well enough what her husband’s reaction would be, and so felt little guilt in relenting. Daemon would just have to live with flowers in a ceremony of fire and blood. “Very well, I will speak to your father about it, but the flowers have to be red, is that understood?”

There were enthusiastic nods all around her, which likely meant that Rhaena was not the only one set on flowers. Even Baela was beaming at the concession.

Having been entirely derailed from where she wished to start the conversation, she was left searching her mind for her plan. Right. The paint. “As part of the ceremony, there are two Valyrian sigils drawn on the forehead of the husband and wife. I will be showing you how to draw them with red paint, though in the ceremony they are drawn in blood.”

She drew breath to continue but Alyn jumped in eagerly. “Whose blood? Is there a sacrifice?”

Blinking, she stared at him before answering slowly. “No. The blood belongs to those that come to be wed. Their blood is joined in the ceremony and the sigils symbolize that.” He looked entirely too crestfallen at the news, and she wondered just what people believed about Valyrian traditions exactly.

Shaking her head once more to clear the confusion out, she pressed on. “The two Valyrian sigils, can you guess what they are?”

“Husband and wife?”

“No.”

There were frowns all about her as the obvious answer was rejected, all thinking deeply until Addam ventured another guess. “Is one of them blood?”

She nodded with a grin.

His frown deepened. “Is the other fire, then?”

Her grin widening, she nodded again.

Somehow, the answer did not please him. “Why are there sigils of House Targaryen words used in a Valyrian wedding? Can no one else marry so?”

The question was interesting since it showed a certain lack of understanding what those words meant in the general population.

“Do you know when House Targaryen took those words for themselves?”

Addam’s headshake was troubled.

“It was only after the conquest. All Westerosi noble Houses had words of their own, but Valyrian Houses never kept such. House Targaryen had none either, and so they chose new ones. On the other hand, Valyrian weddings contained those same sigils for thousands of years before that.”

He chewed on his lips at that. “So House Targaryen words come from a wedding?”

She laughed and shook her own head. That would make them seem quite romantic, wouldn't it? “No. Those words were central to the religion and the power of the Freehold. Dragonlords of old included those two elements in near all religious ceremonies, for fire represented the Fourteen Flames and the blood was the price that was paid to them. Fire and blood was what the Valyrian Freehold was built on, and House Targaryen chose those words for their own in tribute to that, for they were the last of the dragonlords.” 

There were thoughtful frowns all around, not just on the faces of the children.

Alyn pulled a face. “If we don’t have red paint to practice, and they are meant to be done in blood, will we be using ours ?”

She let out a peal of laughter at the horrified faces. “No. There will be no bleeding but mine own and Daemon’s and only at the ceremony. You will be learning them and practicing with paint.”

“But we do not have anyyyy.” 

Baela’s whine only made her grin and lean toward the children as if sharing a secret. “So we will have to make ourselves some.” She straightened with a brow raised inquisitively. “Tell me, have you ever been to the Red Keep’s kitchens?”

The headshakes did not come as a surprise. She had never been there either. They would need to get a servant to show them the way and their presence there was not likely to be appreciated by the staff. Still, it was that or send someone out to the city to buy some and that would cost them hours of idleness and so to the kitchens they went to the wide-eyed astonishment of the servants they passed.

Upon receiving the startled bows and curtsies from the kitchen staff and the head cook’s greetings, she smiled at all of them. “Good morrow, my good men and women, thank you for receiving us so kindly even though we are doubtless interrupting your duties.” 

They were not. The kitchens were in more disarray than any she had ever witnessed. It was quite clear that high-born visits did not come often here. Daemon was like have a fit if he ever saw the amount and the color of grease left on the spit. Laena herself was unlikely to ever consume anything that came from it in the Red Keep herself. Oh Gods, her stomach turned just thinking of it, and she had to close her eyes and breathe through her mouth.

“We came to inquire whether you may have a corner to spare for us to use as we mix our paints. And would also need some beets and cornflour and water as ingredients.” Her smile was back on her face as she continued even though she was of half a mind to leave, to run for the market and buy as much fresh fruit as possible to avoid eating anything that came from this place.

Oh Gods, she did not see rats in the cupboard they took the cornflour out of, surely? Where were their cats? She shut her eyes again and wished she had not had this idea at all, despite the delight on the children’s faces. At least, they were not to make something edible here themselves.

Oh Gods, she was like to be sick and not due to her condition.

Chapter Text

To be back in the nursery was a deliverance. To be back in the nursery without the children grabbing anything to eat from the kitchens brought an uncommon relief. To be back in the nursery after a visit to the kitchens without the need to scrub the children top to bottom and a fresh set of clothes for each was…beyond belief. 

And yet here Laena was, back in the nursery, with freshly made red paint, clean children and settled stomach, frowning and looking about herself in suspicion. This was not like to last. Something was bound to go wrong and soon. 

Nibbling on her lip, she did her best to put her reservations behind her and forge on ahead with what she had planned. Smiling her best motherly smile, she called the children to order and stared in amazement as they arrayed themselves in front of her as if troops ready for inspection by their commander.

She put her hands behind her back and paced along the short line with a serious expression, suppressing the need to giggle. They picked this up from the training with Daemon, arranging themselves from tallest to smallest, and she was not complaining. 

After pacing some more, she paused in front of Addam, grinning at him. “My good ser, I give into your care the greatly treasured red paint.” She cut a stern gaze to the other children. “Each of you will be given your own container for some paint. However, Addam will be in charge of dispensing the paint and no one else may so much as touch the main container without his leave.” There would be no tugs of war with paint. “At any sign of mischief, we are done with paining. Is that clear?”

There were nods all around, even with Baela’s grumble. “He is no ser.”

Addam colored and Laena turned to Baela chidingly. “Ah, but he is good and honorable and was given an important task. He is my knight changed with the defense of the precious paint that I have so laboriously acquired for you.” And at great personal sacrifice, if she were being honest. The castle’s kitchens were likely to cause her nightmares.

Baela’s arms folded mutinously as she glared at her mother. “Only a knight can make a knight. And you are no knight.”

Laena blinked at her daughter. Her playful statement was not turning out as she had expected. At all. “That is true. And there will come a time when your father, who is a knight, will knight him in earnest. Until then, Addam will have to contend himself with being only my gallant knight when occasion calls for it. Is that quite alright with you, dear?”

Baela turned her big hopeful eyes on Laena. “So he will be a knight? Even though he is only a bastard?”

She flushed at the words. She would never have expected to hear such from her own daughter and her response was therefore mayhaps harsher than it needed to be. “Addam is not only a bastard. He is a good and kind boy, your cousin, your friend , and I will not have you speak of him as such! In fact, I will not have you use that word at all! To refer to anyone. Or there will be consequences!” 

There was only a short pause before Alyn let himself be heard. “I don’t need to be a stupid knight!”

Turning to him, she gave him a flat look. “Then be a smart one. My husband promised your mother he would knight you when the time came and so as long as he finds you worthy, a knight you shall be.”

Deciding that the topic of knighthood had been belabored enough, she shook her head with a somewhat forced smile. “Let us get to the painting then, shall we? Each of you grab a paper, we will begin with fire.”

There was a scramble for papers and soon enough she was treated to a sight of focused children, dipping their fingers into paint and drawing symbols of a dead language of their ancestors. She could not help but watch them in concern. Where had that come from? Was there some conflict among the children? How had she missed it?

Order and cleanliness were but a memory by the time Lady Priscilla returned with a dressmaker and her assistants, laden with rolls upon rolls of fabrics.

Once measurements started to be taken and fabrics strewn over and around the children, whatever was left of sanity in the nursery, quickly disintegrated in laughter, squeals, and arguments.

One such argument had Laena regretting her decision to have new clothes made bitterly as she massaged her aching temples.

“I will not wear it! I will not! You wear it if you like it so much!”

“I will not wear it! I am not a silly little girl . You are!”

“Take it back! Take it back! I am not a girl !”

Laena slapped a hand over her mouth to cover her twitching lips. “Baela! That is quite enough! Of course, you are a girl.” She sighed and dropped to her knees in front of her. “Now, how about you tell me what is wrong with the dress. Do you not like it? Rhaena likes hers.”

Baela was pouting and there were tears in her eyes. “It is so girly!”

Laena cocked her head and examined it closely with a frown. “Is it? It does not seem so to me.”

“It is a dress! All dresses are girly! And I do not want to look like a silly girl for your wedding!”

Ah… well… This would require some finesse. She reached out a hand to comb a strand of her daughter’s hair behind her ear, smiling at her softly. “Is being a girl and dressing as such such a bad thing? I am one, and I wear dresses all the time.” Pausing, her eyes lit with mischief as her voice lowered as if sharing a secret. “Except for dragonriding. I wear trousers for that.” 

Baela was looking at her wide-eyed. “But… you are you . You are not a silly girl, you are muña. You ride Vhagar. You can wear dresses.”

Laena’s smile stretched. “ Exactly . What I wear does not make me who I am. I can wear girly dresses but that does not make me silly or weak. I wear whatever I like, and I am a blood of Old Valyria and a dragonrider whatever I wear. And so are you. Not wearing dresses just because you think someone will think you silly is already granting them power over you.”

She paused for effect to let the words sink in and then delivered a coup de grâce. “While I would so like to see you in a pretty dress at the ceremony, if you truly do not wish to wear a dress, we will figure something else out.”

Baela was staring at her, a deep frown marring her pretty features, chewing on her lips. Then, she colored slightly and gave a dejected sigh. “I do like the dress.”

Laena was gracious in her victory and she leaned forward to take her daughter into her arms and kiss her temple. “Thank you. I am sure you will be very fierce and beautiful. Your father will be pleased.”

She was rewarded by her daughter's fierce hug, relishing in the moment of peace among the chaos.

“My word, what is going on here?”

Her eyes closed in resignation. So much for the moment of peace.

Laena gave her daughter a last kiss and caress and rose to her feet to face the puzzled queen. “Good-sister, what a surprise to have you here.”

“I was passing and could not miss the commotion. Do tell, good-sister, what is it you are all up to?”

Before Laena could respond, Rhaena did. “We’re getting new pretty dresses for the wedding! Even Baela!”

The queen looked startled and she could not blame her. “I see. I was not aware there is to be a wedding?”

Laena took a breath to respond only to be beaten to the response by a daughter of hers again. “Kepa and muña are going to have another wedding so we can see.”

The queen’s confusion seemed to clear a bit at that and her smile turned genuine. “I understand. If there is anything you need, I will be happy to help you prepare the sept or answer any questions you might have.”

That… was unexpectedly kind but ultimately unnecessary. “Thank you, good-sister, but that will not be needed. We are not going to be married in a sept. We are merely looking to present a Valyrian wedding ceremony to our children and those are done under the open sky.”

The confusion was back in the queen’s face, accompanied by a thoughtful frown. “I see. I must admit that I have never seen a Valyrian ceremony myself. If it is not too much of a bother, I would like to attend as well, with my children.”

Laena’s lips thinned. It was not like she could refuse her like this, could she?

“It will be no trouble at all, good-sister. Though I must point out that Valyrian weddings are held after nightfall. It might be too late for some children.”

“Oh, it will be no trouble at all. Still, thank you for the consideration, good-sister. I will arrange for a grand feast to celebrate afterwards.”

No. Laena could accept the guest list growing beyond what they had hoped for, but there would be no feasting , no food from the castle’s kitchens at all.

Her smile to the queen was pained. “Thank you, good-sister, but we have no wish for a feast at all. We will arrange for some light refreshments, fruits and such, to be served in the gardens, but that will be it.”

The queen seemed crestfallen at the news. “Oh, are you sure? Our people in the kitchens are quite skilled. I could send the word, and they could quickly whip up some samples for you to taste.”

Laena could feel bile rising in her throat at the threat. “Thank you, good-sister. I truly would not wish to bother anyone and I doubt that my intrusion in the kitchens would be much appreciated.”

The queen laughed at her words. “There is little need for that, indeed. Everything would be brought to you. I have managed the royal kitchens for years and there was never any need to go all the way there. There are people for that, my dear.”

Laena's answering laugh was very weak. That explained so much.

Chapter Text

Being out in the city once more after what felt like an eternity of being cooped up in the Red Keep was a relief beyond imagination. 

Days. They had been back in the capital for days. Not even a fucking fortnight and already everything was crumbling, Daemon’s own sanity likely just one among the many victims.

There had been little love he had to spare for his grandparents after his disastrous match, but now he could not help but admire his grandfather. How the fuck had the old man managed to keep the realm from crumbling into dust for so long? How?

The realm seemed ready to tear itself apart at the drop of a hat, just looking for an opportune moment, vultures circling without a pause. There was a rot at the heart of it and there was a rot at every seam that bound it together. There was little holding it together in truth and with his brother exposed for even greater weakling, even greater fool, even greater puppet than even he had believed him, it was possible even that little was gone now.

Without those ties binding the realm together, only dragons and fear of them remained. Daemon had little wish to rule the realm by fear, fire and blood, expecting it to crumble at first opportunity. He had always wished for a legacy, had always wished to be remembered among the greats and now… Now his actions, his findings might well lead the realm to ruin.

Would the fall of the Iron Throne be worse to the realm than the war of dragons had been? He had no idea. In truth, he had no idea whether the realm even could have been preserved as one still at the point of his death, too much damage already wrought, too much damage still to be dealt.

There were times when he wished to take Laena and children and just leave . Leave for Driftmark, leave for Dragonstone, leave for Pentos. It mattered little where . It only mattered that they would be gone from all this insanity, treachery, poisonous politicking and false hope. Above all, they would be safe.

And yet… There were debts to be paid. To Otto Hightower, for all the crimes he had visited upon their family and ultimately the realm, for certain. To other opportunists that sought to bring Targaryens low to better their positions. But there were others as well. 

The city had opened its gates to him. He had been gone for nigh on two decades from it and had returned only at the head of a conquering army, and yet they had still welcomed him, had still thrown open the city gates for him, had still celebrated to see him .

It was not the Queen the city did that for, it was the Prince of the City, and he had abandoned it to Rhaenyra’s tender mercies as he had returned to the campaign in the Riverlands. He had left it a hero. He wondered how many had cursed him by the time of his death as the disastrous policies of his dear niece came into power. The smallfolk of the Riverlands suffered the most in the war, but he had little doubt that the people of King’s Landing would have matched them given enough time. 

King’s Landing had trusted him and Daemon had failed it. Had failed them. He had hoped to better their lives now that he had returned and had been named to the Small Council and yet there was just so much happening all the fucking time , he had had no time for that either. Now that the King was indisposed, there would be no changing of any laws at all until the Great Council convened and elected a new monarch.

The Great Council had seemed a mad gamble when they had settled on it for their plan. Somehow that mad gamble had shifted to the most reasonable course of action even without their manipulation. He was unsure how to feel about that. There was too much happening, and they had little visibility of the situation much less control of it.

He would have to trust Rhaenys and Corlys to manage the wrangling of the Houses great and small to vote in their favor, for Daemon himself had already run out of whatever charm he had thought to spare for it under the continued onslaught of reality on his very sense of self. His patience was wearing very thin too and should anything more happen, he was uncertain he could prevent an eruption of his temper, which had been only barely restrained to begin with.

Still, being out in the city after the last few days was a relief. Riding clear across the city from the Red Keep all the way to the Gate of the Gods, gave him an uncommonly long while to observe and reflect and brood.

The city was so quiet. So peaceful. It was as if he had woken to a different King’s Landing than the one he had been used to his whole life. It was almost sleepy. Slow to wake and somehow relaxed. It made him relax as well, some of the tension after his damned conversation with Rhaenyra leaving him, even a smile rising to his face as the sun shone down on him.

Aye, mayhaps there was some peace to be found in all of this chaos. If the people of King’s Landing could find peace in sunshine and fair weather, so should he. He had been in the North only recently, even beyond the Wall. He should certainly enjoy whatever warmth he could while he could.

His mood was quite improved by the time he reached the barracks by the Gate of the Gods and jumped down from his horse in the courtyard, handing the reins to a stableboy with a grin.

A booming voice sounded behind him and his grin widened as he turned to face Luthor Largent. “Welcome to our humble barracks, my Lord Hand. How may these most humble of gold cloaks be of service to such a high and mighty lord as you?” 

Daemon could not stop the laughter. He came to speak with the man on the topic and he knew already. The news traveled fast even beyond the Red Keep, it would seem.

“Ser Luthor, you might serve me first by finding me a seat and serving me some ale. My throat seems to be very dry after the long ride from the Red Keep.” His tone was appropriately haughty and Largent’s eyes sparkled with mirth at his response.

He was led into the barrack’s busy dining hall and seated among the off-duty gold cloaks, and he allowed himself to relax further. There were no high tables here, no judgment of the highbrowed hypocrites, no hidden agendas, no politicking, only companionship of shared service and experiences. After so long in the capital, he felt finally at the right place.

He was knocked forward as Largent thumped him on the back before setting a tankard of ale in front of him and joining him on the bench. “Congratulations on the Handship, my prince. It is much overdue. The city has been celebrating since we learned of it.”

“Thank you, Ser Luthor. I would not expect such news to spread so quickly.” And he had not. The city and the City Watch rarely held much interest in who held which position on the Small Council.

He was rewarded with an incredulous laughter. “You freed us from that Hightower brat in our ranks, and then you arrested his fucking father. We could not be more grateful.”

Daemon’s brows rose at that. Had Gwayne Hightower made himself such a nuisance that his fall from grace was celebrated so? “Was Ser Otto a bit of a problem for the Watch?”

Largent snorted, his face buried in his own tankard. “The fucker kept cutting our budget and tried to use his son to reduce patrols in Flea Bottom in favor of more on Visenya’s Hill. We resisted as much as we could, but you know how it is.”

He continued after another long pull of ale. “To say nothing of the fact that everyone knew how the two of you felt for each other. It is a matter of loyalty to you to hate the former Hand.”

And Daemon laughed at that too. Indeed, it was a matter of loyalty. Loyalty, which should not go unrewarded for much longer.

Frowning, he spoke to the captain. Hopefully, some of it need not wait for the Great Council. “Would it be possible to see the books? I would like to see what those budget cuts cost the Watch.”

He received another slap on the back. “Anything for you, my prince. Drink up and let us be on our way!”

The books were not the only thing Daemon was interested in, but the other matter would require some privacy, and so he would speak of it only once pouring over the balances.

“There is no Master of Laws on the Small Council now, as I took the position of the Hand. None can be named either, due to the King’s indisposition, but I would greatly appreciate it if you would take part in the meetings as the Commander of the City Watch.”

Largent was staring at him in the dim light of his office. “You wish me to hold your old position.”

Daemon’s brows rose. “Is there anyone better?” Largent had handed him the city during the war, when he had been the Commander of the City Watch and siding with Daemon could bring him no higher position. He certainly trusted him to hold King’s Landing for him in a time of peace.

“ You are our Lord Commander.”

Daemon’s lips stretched in amusement. “I cannot be the Hand, the Master of Laws and the Lord Commander. There is simply not enough time in the day to be all of it. And if not I, I do not believe there to be a better man to lead the Watch than you.”

The man was struck speechless for a moment and when he regained the use of his voice, his eyes shone brightly. “Thank you, my prince. You will not regret it, I swear.”

Daemon already knew that.

Chapter Text

He returned to the Red Keep feeling considerably lighter than when he had departed from it. The visit to the city, the time away from the keep, granting him a brighter perspective and an ally in the meetings of the Small Council.

Being back would doubtless mean losing it soon enough, but he did not have to give up on it just yet. No, not just yet.

There was a smile on his face as he eschewed the public rooms and the offices in favor of heading to the gardens. The ceremony needed to be performed under the open sky and so the gardens were the obvious choice as to where to hold it. However, since Daemon wished to get as many blessings as they could…

Well, there truly seemed only one place in the gardens to perform it as well.

The sun was shining down on him, warming him. The air carried the sweet fragrance of various flowers in bloom and soft birdsongs. There was peace in here too and as he passed through the gardens to the heart tree, he let it wash over him and reveled in it.

Even standing in front of the weirwood, staring into its carved face, the peace was with him, sounds and fragrances muted in this corner of the gardens. A content little smile was on his lips, amusement rising within him.

Daemon might not be the most religious person around, but he understood, as his ancestors did, the power of blood. The Old Gods of the First Men seemed to like blood just as much as their Valyrian counterparts did.

If just a few drops of his blood in recompense to the heart tree at Harrenhal gave him another chance at life… If just a few drops returned Laena to him and granted his son life… Surely the blood Daemon and Laena would both spill at their wedding should be enough to grant Laena and their children protection enough.

There was always a price to be paid and the First Men and the Valyrians seemed to understand it far better than their Andal counterparts. Andals liked to pray to their Seven and give thanks in lightning candles for their idols, not truly giving anything. Why should the Gods bother, if the petitioners did not?

If blood was the price to be paid, they would pay it. If it was a service the Gods required of him, he would perform it. If it was his pain and suffering they wished to have, he had given them enough of that too.

He was prepared to pay any price for the safety and happiness of his family, but the price would be his to pay, not theirs. Never theirs. Never again theirs.

Daemon had lived too long and lost too much to ever allow for that again. He would happily suffer a thousand deaths to keep them happy and safe and, if at all possible, ignorant of the cruelties of the world.

So it was with peace in his heart and certainty in his mind that he spoke to the tree. “I did as you wished. I took dragons into the North. I saved those you wished to save and killed those you wished dead. I ensured your followers would be free to worship as they wished, as you wished. And I will give you my blood and my wife’s blood, the blood of Old Valyria, the blood of dragons, and all that I ask is that my wife and our children have your protection as well. Grant me that. Grant me that, and I will continue to be of service to you.”

Aye, Daemon might not be the most religious of men, but he understood that everything had a price. And often, the price and the reward could be negotiated.

He stood under the canopy of the weirwood’s red leaves until the sun sank below the horizon, willing his offer to be accepted. As he finally stepped away from the tree and turned to walk to the chambers he shared with his wife, he felt assured that it was.

It was strange how uncommon he found it that he was at peace after having spent the day without Laena and the children. Recently, he had felt like that only in their presence and usually only as a result of deliberate action on his side after suffering yet another nasty surprise.

He entered their chambers to find his wife once again in the window seat, her eyes closed and her head bowed, sleeping. His smile stretched. She looked as if posed for a painting, baskets of fruit on the surrounding chairs only adding to the illusion.

Approaching on silent feet, he grabbed an apple from one of the baskets and cleaned it perfunctorily in his doublet. Her eyes were still closed, and she gave no sign of wakefulness as he stood above her, and so he joined her in the window seat, leaning against the opposite side and watched her for a bit with a wide grin. Then, he bit into the apple noisily and munched on it in as obnoxious a way as humanly possible.

Her nose scrunching adorably was the first sign of her becoming aware of her surroundings, or rather Daemon’s presence in them. Her tired gaze connecting with his amused one and turning into a tired glare was another.

“Must you eat so noisily, husband?”

“Aye, wife. For how else would I get to enjoy your delightful disapproval.”

She laughed at him and rolled her eyes. “I am quite convinced you would have no trouble coming up with things for me to disapprove of.”

His grin could not be any wider. “That is true enough. But why bother when there is something readily available?” He took another noisy bite.

Her shoulders and head shook at his antics. “You do realize that I spent the day in the company of your children, don’t you? I have little need to attend to another child now.”

He gave her a wounded look, hand raised to his heart. “Wife, your words pain me so. I would hope you would feel a rather great need to attend to me.” He wiggled his brows at her suggestively, and she threw back her head to laugh even more, raising her own hands to her chest.

Still, he ceased his teasing and a more serious expression settled on his face as she calmed. “How was your day?” His tone was gentle, his eyes giving her tired face a caress.

The smile he received in return was tired as well. “Exhausting. We made some paints, used them to draw Valyrian glyphs, survived a visit from a dressmaker and then just survived.”

He tried to maintain a serious expression, but corners of his lips were twitching at her response. Biting down on the urge to smile, he tilted his head to the nearest fruit basket. “And what’s with all the fruit?”

She blinked at him, startled. “Oh. Oh, that is for us to eat.”

He blinked himself. He was rather partial to fruit himself, certainly more than whatever it was the kitchens produced here, but this seemed a bit… much. It was also all right there. “Ah, is there a reason why we have it here ?”

Laena blinked at him owlishly, and her words were slow. “To eat. Now and in the morn and for our midday meal as well.”

He could feel a frown growing on his face, a wrinkle between his brows deepening. “Why?”

She suddenly came alive, and her smile turned beaming as she rose from her place and dropped herself in his lap. “Because I would feel so much better if we had much more fruit in our diet. I do believe that I deserve some indulgence in my condition, you know.”

Her countenance was entirely too innocent for it to be true. It was also a very strange topic to pin a man in place for.

His mind was racing as his hands rested on her hips, thumbs stroking gently. “I see.”

What was she hiding? What was wrong with the food from the kitchens? Did someone try to poison her?

She was beaming at him beatifically still, waiting for him to accept her words at face value, and so Daemon did what he would do in any other situation when faced with his wife in his lap and reached for her neck to stroke gently before bringing her in for a kiss.

He would look into the matter later, but first, a distraction. The moment she melted against him, he knew it was the right decision. Whatever it was that was behind the strangeness had her in distress and that had to be addressed first.

Hours later, when he left his wife asleep in their bed, utterly at peace herself, he was questioning his decision to venture into the keep’s kitchens in the middle of the night. They were bound to be empty of life, and there would be no one to answer any questions he might have about what had happened.

Still, he was already out of the bed and on the way before he started to question himself, and so he could as well just continue on.

He regretted the decision to do so almost immediately upon entering the moonlit kitchens, snapping his eyes shut in horror.

He did not see fucking rats running on top of the workspace. He did not.

Spinning on his heels, he went out into the corridor to take one of the torches there out of its sconce, and entered the kitchen again with grim determination.

There were fucking rats scurrying anywhere his eyes landed. His feet took him to one of the cupboards and as he yanked the door open with no small dose of violence, some flour and a rat spilled out of it. He slammed the door shut with a bang and jumped back. There was a pained squeal that hurt his ears as he plainly stepped on something.

A bile rose in his throat.

Fucking hells.

Rats.

Lots and lots of rats.

In the kitchens of the Red Keep.

Oh Gods, his grandmother would have died had she ever seen something like this anywhere, much less here.

He stood there in horrified stupefaction, watching the rats for a long while.

Despite the apparent grimness of the situation, he could not help the dim spark of amusement.

It all made so much more sense now.

Rats were known to carry any number of diseases. 

Both his brother and his niece had been exposed to this for years and years. It was very possible that some of their insanity was due to someone’s fucking incompetence. It was not their minds that were poisoned, it was their bodies.

In fact, now that he had thought of it, it would account for a lot of general insanity he had encountered in the Red Keep.

Aye, there was some satisfaction in Daemon as he thought it, it was not in the blood. No, it was in the fucking food.

Laena’s distress had been certainly well-founded.

Chapter Text

Daemon cared not that it was the middle of the night. He cared not that he was barely dressed to be out and about. He cared not that he left his weapons back in his chambers. No, he cared nothing for any of it as he rushed through the halls of the Red Keep.

This had to be taken care of, and it would be taken care of now! 

Barking at the gate guards to let him through, he rushed out and down the Hook to grab the first gold cloak to come into his sights. There was a rather high likelihood he scared the daylights out of the poor man and Daemon might have found himself gutted had one of the guards not followed after him in alarm calling out for the prince to please slow down.

Realizing the ridiculousness of the situation, Daemon took a step back and a moment to gather his wits. Then, clearing his throat, more than slightly embarrassed but affecting nonchalance, he addressed the wide-eyed gold cloak. “My apologies, good man. I require your assistance in a rather urgent matter.”

The gold cloak remained silent, staring at Daemon, still very much stunned.

“I would ask you to get the best fucking rat-catcher you can find and bring him to the Red Keep at once.” The man’s mouth slowly opened as he continued to stare at him, but no sound came out.

“And let however is in command of the night watch that I want a score of gold cloaks in the Red Keep before dawn.” What he was about to do, many in the Keep would not like, and he had no intention of dealing with unhappiness on his own.

The man finally found his voice. “My prince?”

Daemon affected an expression of polite interest. “Yes?”

“A rat-catcher for the Red Keep now ?”

He gave a single nod.

“And a score of gold cloaks for the Red Keep before dawn?”

Another nod.

The man remained standing in his place, staring at the prince, mouth hanging open again. He could guess at his thoughts well enough. How would a rat-catcher be an urgent matter in the middle of the night to a barely dressed prince? Daemon was fairly certain his reputation was about to be shot.

The man’s mouth eventually closed, and the gold cloak nodded to himself resolutely, plainly knowing better than to inquire further. “I will see it done, my prince.”

The bow and the turn the man executed was perfect and its speed truly astounding. After watching him go for a few beats, Daemon turned to return to the Red Keep himself only to come face to face with the gaping gate guard. Right. He forgot about him.

“Are you quite well, my prince?”

Daemon closed his eyes and fought a laugh, his lips twitching madly. No, he was not. He was most certainly not.

Opening his eyes, he addressed the guard’s true question. “There is no need to worry, guardsman. I am merely working on improving life in the Red Keep.”

A score of gold cloaks was not enough to pose a true threat to the Keep’s guards, not so long as they knew about their coming and Daemon did not intend for them to be one. He needed them to keep peace in the morn and possibly to arrest people. Hopefully to arrest people. Surely a state like this could not be the result of just his good-sister’s incompetence.

Surely.

He shook his head at himself and passed by the guard to head back to the Red Keep. “Once he comes back with the rat-catcher, take them to the courtyard by the castle’s kitchens.”

In the meantime, he would head to his chambers. There was no returning to sleep tonight so he might as well get properly dressed before returning to dealing with this nightmare. 

There was no keeping this quiet and he had no intention of even trying. He did, however, fully intend to come to the root of the problem. There was so much wrong here that he no longer even cared about who thought what about any of it or how he appeared by the end of it. 

Fucking hells, if this tarnished the image of his fucking family, rather than all the shit they had all gotten up to until this point, then, well… Daemon had given up on common sense in Andals long ago, he would merely be proven right in yet another way. 

Thankfully, with the Great Council coming soon enough, whatever the outcome, it could all of a sudden only end well for him. Either he would come out on top, and he would be completely free to deal with everything as he deemed fit, or he would not, and it would all become someone else’s concern, and he would just take his family and leave all the rest to rot in their corruption to their heart’s content.

He dressed in the main chamber, leaving Laena to her sleep, and belted Dark Sister on with no small dose of violence to his movements, his sword hand itching for someone to dismember, stuff full of poison and feed to the fucking rats.

He attached a coin purse to the belt as well. The rat-catcher was unlikely to ask for an exorbitant sum, despite being dragged out from wherever he had been in the middle of the night, and Daemon was not the Master of Coin and therefore did decidedly not have free access to the treasury at any time of day anyway. Dragging old Beesbury out of bed at this time of night over a rat-catcher would mayhaps be a step too far even for this farce.

He paused by one of Laena’s blasted fruit baskets, taking an apple. It was going to be a long night yet. Making for the door, he paused again and made a few steps back. Make that two apples. If, by some miracle, there was a need for more, he could send for a basket later.

He paused by the guards at the door to their chambers to let them know where to find him, if anyone, specifically his wife or good-parents, inquired after him and set off for the courtyard by the kitchens once more.

The wait was not long, only one apple falling victim to a rather empty stomach and even at that achievement he had to smile in pained reminiscence. Sometimes it truly astounded him how hardened to even the worst of conditions one can become after a decade spent at war.

Reminiscence was a dangerous thing. Sometimes, he marveled at the fortuitous choice as to the time he had been returned to. The time he had Laena. The time before his withdrawal from reality began. Had he been returned farther back, to his time in the Stepstones, which would have in theory given him more time, he would have likely ended things right then and there. Had he been returned to his youth… He could admit to himself that he had no true idea what he would have done.

He played with the second apple, lost in thought, when the rat-catcher arrived.

“My prince, the rat-catcher you requested.”

He ceased his idle movements and straightened with a flash of teeth. “Well met, good man. I have found that we are in a rather urgent need of a rat-catcher here. I would much appreciate your honest estimate on how much time it would take to deal with the issue.”

The rat-catcher was twitching, his eyes to the ground, his hands rubbing nervously. “My prince, I am sure the issue will be resolved quickly.”

Daemon gave the man a grim smile, dark amusement at the man’s statement surely shining in his eyes. “Reserve your judgment until you see for yourself.”

The man’s eyes darted to the prince and then planted themselves firmly to the ground once more.

“Follow me.” Daemon took a deep breath before he walked in the direction of the kitchens, once more taking a torch from a sconce. 

Pausing in front of the door, he looked back, not only the rat-catcher, but the guard and the gold cloak followed him as well. He beckoned the rat-catcher closer and only once he was by his side did he push the door open. 

He stayed where he was and extended the hand holding the torch into the room to send the rats scurrying from the light. His voice was honey as he spoke. “Tell me, good man, how quickly do you believe this can be resolved?” 

The rat-catcher stared into the room, stunned, mouth slightly open. “What… What is this place?”

Daemon’s chuckle was entirely humorless. “I would assume that to be a rat nest.”

The rat-catcher's wide eyes finally turned to the prince and there remained. “The room. What is the room?”

A sardonic corner of his lips went up. “Is it not obvious? These,” he moved the torch around a bit to indicate the space, “are the Red Keep’s kitchens.”

The man’s mouth dropped lower as he stared at Daemon quietly for a moment longer and when he spoke again, his voice was considerably higher, almost a squeak. “The royal kitchens?”

The prince’s nod was solemn.

The rat-catcher quivered in fear. He was doubtless aware that the issue had to be dealt with swiftly. He was doubtless aware as well that this could not be dealt with swiftly enough . There was little doubt in the man’s mind who would be blamed for it, he was sure.

Daemon laid a heavy hand on the man’s shoulder as he speared him with a look. “I want them gone and gone completely. Be quick, but most importantly, be effective.” He let go to reach for the coin purse at his belt and handed it to him whole. “You will get twice as much once done. Now, get to it.”

The man nodded, somewhat more confident, attached the coin purse to his own belt and entered the room fully, likely to better examine the situation.

He turned to the guard that had escorted the rat-catcher there next. “I want all those that work in the kitchens detained as they arrive and kept under guard until I have a chance to speak with each of them. They may be kept together for the sake of convenience, but they are not to be allowed to speak to each other.”

The gold cloak came last. “Once the gold cloaks arrive, I want them stationed here. No one but the rat-catcher goes into the kitchens, under any circumstances. The kitchens are closed by the order of the Hand.”

It was customary for the Red Keep kitchens to provide food for all boarded at the Keep but surely no one could want to eat food prepared there under the circumstances.

He almost laughed as he realized that this was in fact an issue that he would have to discuss with three of the four members of the Small Council that remained besides himself.

Fucking royal kitchens.

Oh Gods, they were all doomed.

Chapter Text

They gathered the kitchen staff in the storage room at the bottom of the Kitchen Keep across the courtyard from the kitchens themselves.  The servants stared at him sullenly as he examined them with a stern gaze, framed by the doorway behind him and a few gold cloaks with palace guards to his sides.

They looked like regular unhappy servants. True, he might not be necessarily used to that, but it was common enough. He was certainly unused to be glared at by kitchen staff in the Red Keep. He had gotten into any number of mischief in there in his childhood, and before he had departed for the Vale, he had known the name and family situation of most, if not all of them. His lips curled unbidden as he thought of the persistently inquisitive little pest he had been.

None of the faces in front of him were familiar. He should have expected that based on the state of the kitchens, if naught else and yet it still struck a harsh blow. The Red Keep had not been his home for a very long time and little illustrated that better than this.

There was no good way to begin and yet begin he had to, so he straightened to his full height, aiming for imposing, rather than dejected, disgusted, disappointed or any other of the slew of emotions that simmered in him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You spend your days there! You eat the same food you prepare on those tables! How the fuck could you leave the situation get so bad? How?!”

He caught himself gesturing wildly in the direction of the kitchens, voice raised, and that was mayhaps not what he had intended to say or the tone he had intended to use, but he stood by those words.

A bitter snort sounded from somewhere among the servants and Daemon’s eyes snapped in its direction. “I am glad you find some amusement in all of this. Would you like to share it with me?” His voice was silk, his brows raised, his smile inviting.

“We do not eat here. And certainly not the food we prepared here .” The reply was spat out with such venom that Daemon was taken aback. Servants were rarely this brave in the face of authority.

A grim smile replaced the fake one. “It is most commendable that you protect yourself by not eating from or in the fucking rat-infested kitchen. How thoughtful of you. How about getting rid of the fucking rats? Or at least letting someone know of the fucking problem?!”

The faces that were looking at him were looking at him askance. He got the sinking feeling that he was missing something. Something rather important.

His eyes cast around the servants for a low-hanging fruit until his eyes settled on one of the younger servants, a wisp of a girl close to tears. “You! How about you explain to me how this all is possible?”

The girl started to tremble the moment she realized his question was addressed to her. There were silent tears running down her face by the time he prowled to her to loom over her as she stared at him with wide terrified eyes. 

Her legs buckled under her, and she fell to her knees in front of him. “Please, my prince, please, I can’t lose my position, my ma-”

“I am not interested in your sad story. I am interested in getting some answers.” He glared at her silently for a moment. “Now, how could you lot let the fucking rats take over your kitchens?”

Her head dropped in defeat and her shoulders shook as she sobbed. “It was not that bad before… Just… It got worse and there was no one to tell.”

He stared at the top of her head. No one to tell? His lips pursed in displeasure. “What do you mean no one to tell?”

Her teary eyes darted up to glance at him and then planted themselves on the floor once more, her voice slightly breathless. “Lord Strong is dead, my prince.”

What an amusing tale. “You mean to tell me you had no one to tell but the Hand? Otto Hightower yet lives, I assure you, and now here I am, alive as well.”

She shook her head vehemently. “Not Lord Hand, Lord Larys.”

“ What? ” Just what business had the Master of Whisperers with rats ? Real animals rather than the human ones, that was.

Her head was bobbing up and down in a vigorous nodding. “Lord Larys was the one to arrange for rat-catchers. If the rats became a problem, we were to tell him.”

He blinked mutely as his mind chewed on that. “So the rats came only after Lord Larys died?” Was this Daemon’s fault too?

The girl frowned fiercely and bit on her lip. “Well, no, my prince. It’s just that there were rats all over the keep before. Now, it looks like they’re mostly just in the kitchens.”

With the readily available ample supply of food he was not that surprised. Still, rats all over the castle moving to the kitchens was…strange. He also did not believe it. Likely it was just the ones in the kitchen procreating at a greater number due to all the available food.

He let out a tired sigh. “I don’t suppose you know what rat-catcher Lord Larys employed?” Whoever the man was deserved to be strung up by his toes. He likely bled Larys Strong of money while doing nothing. Which was especially funny when one considered that the one fooled was the Master of Whisperers.

She shook her head wildly. “We never saw no one.”

Or mayhaps not. Daemon’s brows drew together at that.

Her eyes rose with some hesitant hope in them. “Will we be allowed to eat?”

Daemon’s eyes darted around the assembled servants, and he did not bother withholding a grimace. “Do not worry, some food will be brought to you here soon. But you will all remain here for the time being.”

The girl slumped, apparently dejected at his answer and he rolled his eyes to see it. “If it truly was just a matter of a broken chain of responsibility, you will be all free to return to your work.”

There was another snort coming from somewhere out of his eyesight. “And will we be allowed to eat then ?”

Daemon’s hand rose to rub at his face. What the fuck? His tone was somewhat resigned when he asked. He had to. “I am afraid I do not catch your meaning.”

The girl's head rose again to look at him with wide hopeful eyes. “Will we be allowed to bring our own food to eat, my prince?”

Again. What the fuck? 

“Were you not allowed to do that before?” Why would they even need it? Wasn’t their board traditionally part of their pay?

Her head was shaking from side to side resolutely. “No, my prince, we were not. We were told it was dangerous.”

Unlike rats in the royal kitchens, he was sure.

“And was there a reason you did not eat the food provided to you here?”

It was not just the girl staring at him with wide eyes. He was getting shocked stares from all of them now.

The girl's response was somewhat outraged. As outraged as she dared to be at a prince so not truly at all, but somewhat. “Because we were not allowed!”

For fuck’s sake! It was not like anyone could order kitchen staff to not eat in the kitchens , while preparing food. No one in their right mind would order that because no one would follow an order like that. There was no way to truly enforce it.

An amused brow rose as he smiled kindly down at her. “And you expect me to believe that any of you obeyed that?”

Her eyes were so wide as she looked up at him, they nearly popped out of her head and her voice turned breathless again. “We had to. We all had to. They knew .”

He rolled his eyes at her. The girl might have been scared into believing that, but there was no way anyone could truly know . Whoever “they” were they knew all of them likely to break the prohibition and picked some servants at random to accuse and dismiss and scare all the others into compliance.

Still, it was a strange prohibition to enforce, especially if the servants were not allowed their own food either.

He had a sinking suspicion that the ease with which they had recruited the servants in the Red Keep for their needs had had little to do with their loyalty to either Daemon or Rhaenyra and much more with the strange treatment they had been subjected to.

As far as he was aware, the treasury was not in such a state that skimping on meals for servants was required.

And again… “Why the fuck would you not be allowed to bring your own food from outside then? If they knew everything anyway?”

She frowned, her upturned face troubled. “I do not know, my prince. That was before my time.”

Someone shouted from the back. “They said it was poison! One of the scullions brought some sausage that a rat ate and it died. They said it was poison, and we could not bring our own food into the Keep anymore!”

Well, that at least made some sense, though a dead rat was only ever a good thing in his eyes. Mayhaps they should locate more of those sausages. 

The effort to ensure that no food was brought by servants into the Red Keep had to be insane. Searching every one of them as they came in… Just thinking of it made his head ache. Which led him to his next question. “Are you searched for food every time you come into the Red Keep?” 

The girl was staring at him with a frown as she shook her head slowly, speaking slowly as well. “No. They knew.”

The paranoia among the servants was just incredible. However had whoever was behind it achieved it, Daemon could only marvel at it.

That was a lot of effort to go to just to inconvenience servants.

Beesbury was not happy to have had nothing to break his fast with and let Daemon know of his displeasure at length as he entered the Master of Coin’s office.

Leaving him to his grumblings, he mostly ignored the old man in favor of going for the Red Keep’s account books. “Which one is the most recent?”

Beesbury came over to him to take the most recent one out and Daemon slammed it onto a table with some satisfaction. He could not wait to see what was so important that the kitchen funds had to be reduced so drastically.

When he found the section related to the kitchens and their overall expenses, he looked at them in disbelief, blinking for a while. What the fuck? How long has this been going on?

His tenure as the Master of Coin lasted much longer than his appointments as the Master of Laws put together, surely… He would have noticed such a big change in the budget, wouldn’t he?

He looked at Beesbury grimly. “Where are the Red Keeps account books for years 103 and 104?”

Beesbury was frowning as he went in search of them and when he brought them over, he joined Daemon in pouring over them.

“My prince, this would go much quicker if I knew what it is you are looking for.”

This would have been much easier if Daemon knew what it was he was looking for. Or at least finding what he had expected.

The expenses of the Red Keep's kitchens had been flat compared to his own tenure as the Master of Coin, which should not be possible. Not if the kitchens were feeding considerably fewer people with the servants excluded. The only possibility was that the tradition of feeding them was discontinued even before Daemon assumed the office after Viserys’ accession to the Iron Throne. That this had been going on for nigh on two decades was just beyond his comprehension. His grandmother would have fed the person to even suggest such treatment of servants to her dragon.

An idea occurred to him. “How about account books for the years before the Good Queen’s death?”

Old Beesbury was looking at him with deep suspicion by then but provided the books nevertheless.

Looking over those books and finding the expenses much the same, with only small variations, he slammed them shut and cursed most foully.

According to the Red Keep’s accounts, the kitchens were consuming just as much gold as when they had fed the servants. That is, with likely less than half the amount of mouths to feed, the spending was more or less the same. There was no way to determine when the new policy had been introduced by going over the account books. Even a detailed look they had just given them with Beesbury showed no abnormalities. Not in the years they had looked at.

He had thought that Larys Strong had stolen the money meant for managing the rat problem, and he likely had, but someone had stolen a lot more of the Crown’s money than that . A lot more. And somehow managed to keep it covered up for years .

Fucking Otto Hightower likely used his own daughter’s ignorance and inexperience in management of a royal household to rob the Crown blind.

Chapter Text

Her husband was not in the bed when she woke and there was no small deal of resignation in her at that. Daemon seemed to rarely be there with her ever since they came to the capital, and she was growing to resent the Red Keep for that alone, whatever other faults it may possess. And faults there seemed to be aplenty.

Still, Laena was loath to raise and face the day when she thought of the day before. The state of the kitchens had to be dealt with. For all that her first reaction was to secure something for themselves, to ensure they and their children would not eat off the fares provided by the royal kitchens, that was not the way to go. 

No. The kitchens had to be dealt with. They were the queen’s domain, and she wondered of her chances to gently guide the queen into taking a true interest in them, into handling the matter herself, for Laena surely could not expect to be there and not be sick. As little as she may trust the queen, she would have to be the one to take care of it.

She could tell Rhaenyra, but she would rather… not . Something was wrong there, she was sure, far more wrong than before and since her husband would not tell her, she could not make herself face her good-sister unprepared. That way only laid suffering, she was sure.

Her mother was out of the question. Ever since she had married her father, she would be expected to wield power in the Velaryon household and therefore kitchens, but she would never again wield it in the royal kitchens as she was no longer considered the member of the royal family, rather the Velaryon one.

And so, the queen it would have to be, for Laena could not so much as make herself go there and while telling her husband would certainly remain an option, he was bound to do something rash. She would rather avoid that. No, the kitchens needed to be attended to, and they needed to be attended to quietly so the queen it would have to be. Somehow.

As she rose with a sigh and called for her maids, her mind was racing for the best approach to take with the queen. The queen had seemed to be making slight overtures of nonhostility if not friendship lately and more so since her father’s imprisonment to Laena’s utter bewilderment. She might be able to use that. She might speak to her of the upcoming ceremony and include her in the planning, nudging her to take a serious interest in the state and running of the royal kitchens.

Lost in her thoughts as she was, it took her some time to realize that her maids were quite a bit more distracted than what was usual of them, tittering among themselves.

She frowned at them, heart sinking. “What is it?”

“It is good you bought all that fruit yesterday, my lady. The royal kitchens are closed, my lady.”

Laena let out an annoyed sigh and rubbed her face in helpless disbelief. There were not many with the authority to do so, the reason for her husband’s absence in their bed suddenly clear. It would seem her efforts to distract her husband had failed entirely. So much for stopping him from doing something rash.

Well, if she could not stop him, she would have to support him.

So, she smiled at her maids and had them braid her hair away from her face and dress her in a rather simple black dress, sewed with a red thread.

There were High Lords present in the Red Keep and as they were bound to be unused to the capital, they could not be expected to be able to care for their needs immediately. Mayhaps they even lacked servants for it at all, since the Red Keep was expected to provide those to its guests as well.

As she rose dressed and ready, she ordered Lady Priscilla to take a basket of fruit to her parents and her children each to break their fast with and then take a basket to Ser Elmo Tully with her kind regards. Then, joined by her maids, she took four baskets, two for Lord Stark and Lady Arryn each, and went to deliver them herself.

Leaving Maegor’s and passing into the guest wing, she saw little movement. She was hardly surprised, the social life at the Red Keep was known to drag on until early hours of the morning. However, as she and her husband tended to avoid the rich meals usually served, they ate in private and therefore retired much, much earlier than the rest, which in turn left them rising much, much earlier than others too.

This hopefully gave her the opportunity to ensure that the Lord and Lady Paramount in residence would be able to break their fast on Laena’s offerings without any fuss even with the kitchens closed. Even better, it would give her an opportunity to make arrangements for them in the future. While Lord Stark was already likely to be well-disposed to them due to their assistance against the Wildlings, Lady Arryn had every reason to be set against them. Improving her disposition towards Daemon seemed unlikely, though she may yet prevent the resentment deepening even more due to the whole kitchen fiasco.

She found Lord Stark already awake and in the company of Lord Manderly and his sons, which rather explained their absence from White Harbor upon their return from the North and color threatened to rise to Laena’s cheeks are she recalled her husband refusing the hospitality at the New Castle due to it and his suspicious nature.

“My Lord Stark, My Lord Manderly, good morrow. I bring you some fresh produce to break your fast with as it was brought to my attention that the kitchens are closed at present and unlikely to reopen soon.”

She gestured for her maids to step forward with the heavy baskets. “I hope this will be enough to alleviate the issue for your household for the nonce. Though I would appreciate it greatly if you shared with me the size of your household here so I may help ensure that enough food is provided for you going forward as well.”

Lord Manderly was beaming at her, while Lord Stark gave her a very reserved smile. “We are most grateful for your generosity and the speed with which it arrived, my lady.” Ah, did she detect suspicion there? “However were you able to procure such so speedily?”

Laena laughed. He suspected some plot when it was only her own disgust that had driven her actions. Still, an explanation was needed. “Oh, there was no speed involved, I assure you. I got these yesterday for an entirely different purpose. We are planning a ceremony, you see, and we mean to serve only light refreshments for it. We had no wish to trouble the kitchen staff with such a small thing, when we have servants enough, and bought some produce already to have ready.”

Lord Stark’s brows rose in interest. “Ceremony? What ceremony, my lady?”

She blushed as she realized that she would have to explain yet again and that the guest list was bound to keep expanding.

“My husband and I wish for our children to see a traditional Valyrian wedding ceremony performed. There are so few of those these days, you see.” Her shoulders rose somewhat helplessly. “Since there are no other Valyrians about to be married in such a fashion anytime soon to the best of our knowledge, it will be my husband and I that will merely repeat our own and bind our blood together once more.”

Lord Stark blinked for a few moments before frowning. “Bind your blood together? I must confess myself curious to see what that entails.” As everyone who had heard of it so far had been. “Would it be possible to see it ourselves? If it would not be too much of an imposition.”

Laena smiled at him even as her eyes flickered to Lord Manderly, and she thought of the insult Daemon issued to him with his refusal of hospitality, unknown to the lord as it might be at the moment. Her smile stretched a bit more invitingly. “It would be no imposition at all. You and Lord Manderly and his sons or any other of your company you deem fit would be most welcome. Though I must warn you that the ceremony is to be held after nightfall and as I already mentioned, the refreshments served will be only light.”

She glanced at one of her maids for a want of something more to say to make her escape gracefully. “I will leave one of my maids with you. Please send the word of your household needs with her and I will ensure that you have all that you need. Once we have settled on the day and location of the ceremony I will let you know that too. Though now I must be away, for I have Lady Arryn to see this morn as well.”

Leaving the Northmen behind, she had a nagging feeling that by the time she was done with her baskets, her list would grow to a number that Daemon would be distinctly unhappy with. In fact, considering the size of their original wedding, and depending on how many people would eventually accompany the queen and Lord Stark, they might have exceeded the attendance of it already.

Lady Arryn greeted her with a very reserved smile and Laena’s smile was rather well-practiced and far less natural as well. The lady’s smile turned colder still with Laena’s explanation of her presence and presentation of the baskets filled with fruit.

Her sharp eyes stared Laena down as an inquisitive brow raised just a tad. “Oh, whatever happened to the royal kitchens?”

The stare was so full of accusation that it had her fighting a sudden urge to squirm, but she persevered. While the blame of Daemon’s discovery of the state of the Red Keep’s kitchens might be laid at her feet, their state itself certainly could not, and so she steeled her spine and let her smile sharpen as well.

“You would have to inquire after that with the queen or my husband for that, I fear. The kitchens were still open last we spoke, and I have not received any sort of message regarding their closing yet. I merely wished to alleviate any discomfort this may cause you with what I have at hand. If it does not suit you, I am sure I can find someone who would appreciate it more.”

Lady Jeyne seemed not best pleased at that. “There will be no need for that. The gesture is much appreciated, I assure you. I merely wonder that you have so much to spare.”

Truly? Would the quiet suspicion never end? This was not Laena’s fault!

Laena smiled through gritted teeth. “We will be preparing some light refreshments for a ceremony that will be held in a few days and storing the fruit in our chambers in order not to overly tax the kitchen staff.” 

She gave a well-bred shrug. “We were merely lucky to do so.”

“Oh, a ceremony? What ceremony?”

Oh, for Gods’ sake! Would Laena not get through a single errand without this? 

Her smile remained firmly in place even as she fumed inside. “My husband and I wish for our children to see a traditional Valyrian wedding and so are going to repeat our own.”

The ability to contain so much skepticism in a single raised brow was both utterly baffling and utterly enviable. “Oh, how romantic . I would so love to see it.”

“Oh, would you? I fear it will be held after nightfall.” Well, after your bedtime, dear.

Lady Jeyne let out an airy laugh. “Oh, I would not mind at all.”

It was with great deal of resignation that Laena was forced to concede defeat or face furthering of ill will. “Then nothing would please me better than to have you there. I shall send a message when we have settled on the exact date and the location.”

Chapter Text

He was quite sick and tired of looking at the accounting books. No matter how many of them Beesbury and Daemon looked at, no matter how closely they looked at the accounts, there did not truly seem to be any discrepancies. They were simply unable to determine when exactly the stealing started, not without speaking to the culprits or the servants that were around for the switch, of whom there appeared to be none.

To Daemon, it appeared apparent that the stealing must have started when Alicent became the queen. With the account books so thoroughly fooled, the accounts for the kitchens had to have been falsified first and those fell under the authority of the queen’s household. For all that Aemma had been long unable to fully execute her duties due to her being bed-bound so often, he rather doubted she would have overlooked something like this. Even though, admittedly, Aemma’s education had been somewhat lacking before coming to the Red Keep and under instruction of his grandmother.

Still, if the stealing began after Otto’s daughter became the queen, what of the years that he had not been the Hand? Whatever scheme had been put in place must have accounted for the Hand’s absence and that meant that even with fucking Otto Hightower placed under arrest it was like to still be going on. Fuck. Heads would roll if it was. He might not have enough freedom to execute Otto yet but near anyone else would be an entirely different matter. 

He took quite a bit of pleasure from arresting the fucking Hightower and making sure he remained in isolation and so the steps that led him to his cell were slow and unenthusiastic. Daemon had hoped he would not have to see the cursed man until the time for his trial and execution came. Alas, if he wished to spare himself and Beesbury days, if not weeks, buried in the accounts for the royal household then speak to the man he must.

Arriving at the cell door, guarded by four gold cloaks, located in the uppermost level, he gave a nod to them and one of the guards pounded on the door before opening it to let him in.

Otto Hightower looked none the worse for wear and that was to be expected. He had been under arrest but a few days. The smug smirk on his face, however, was not. Daemon wondered at it. He had certainly nothing to be smug about. Not even close to it, truly. He was half-inclined to let him be the only person in the Keep to receive a meal from the kitchens. As he thought it, he was suddenly more than half-way inclined. 

“Dearest Otto, whatever has you in such high spirits?” His amusement must have been clear, but the smirk did not drop.

“You are. Thinking yourself so high and mighty. Thinking yourself a victor already. Do you think my daughter, the queen, will let this stand? Do you think the lords of the realm will let this stand? The king’s brother removing the King and arresting the King’s Hand in one fell swoop? Do you think the realm addle-headed?”

Daemon laughed. “Dear Otto, let me remind you that the Small Council voted on your arrest. There were two Wardens and another’s heir present to witness it. There will not be a single lord in the realm speaking out against your arrest, not even your arrogant brother will be fool enough.”

He paused as if in thought for a moment. “Though I must admit… Ever since replacing you as the Hand I have come to greatly admire your circumspection in regard to the running of your household.”

“Admire my circumspection?” Otto was right to be skeptical of his words.

“Aye. I never gave much thought to the fact that the position of the Hand is one of great honor but one of no pay. One must respect just how much gold your brother provides you with to support a household of such a size. And your rich wardrobe as well. Truly remarkable.”

The former Hand watched him warily as he paused again, looking into his eyes. “I wonder… How much gold would you say it is on a monthly basis? I could not be expected to have a lesser household than you and I fear my bankers would throw a fit at the figure I am imagining already.”

Seeing as the man remained silent, Daemon continued. “Don’t know, hm? I suppose I shall have to write to your brother to discover the sum. He might appreciate an expression of admiration for his great generosity over the years.”

A gurgling sound escaped Otto Hightower, and he smiled at him kindly. “Is aught amiss, dear Otto?”

Needless to say, he remained silent.

Daemon’s smile stretched wider. “I do apologize for rambling. The financing of your household is not what I came to speak to you about at all. Not at all. No.”

He allowed for a pause long enough for Otto to lose some tension in his shoulders and then pressed on. “'Tis the royal kitchens.” The man choked. “I am sorry to say, but the royal kitchens are closed for the foreseeable future. There was a certain issue that will take considerable effort to get rid of. It seems that Larys Strong was entrusted with taking care of an agenda there that was left unattended after his death.”

Daemon started pacing the small space as he talked and turned to Otto once more at that. “Which brings me to the question… Why was the Master of Whisperers employed to deal with rats of all things?”

The smile on Otto’s face was thin. “You must remember that Lord Larys was not always the Master of Whisperers.”

He suppressed a chuckle. “I do. Though I do wonder why the same would be entrusted to a confessor .”

Otto shrugged. “I would wonder the same I suppose. Lord Strong likely trusted his son above all others.”

“Still, a confessor’s presence in the kitchens makes me… wary. It seems to me almost as if someone wished to intimidate the kitchen staff.” He let out a laugh. “As if there is anything to intimidate them about.”

Otto’s answering chuckle was decidedly forced.

“It does seem so, doesn’t it? Why else would someone send a torturer to deal with a rat problem?” Taking up his pacing again, he let his tone gain some enthusiasm. “I wonder what good rats could be to anyone. Unless… Do you think he used rats for torture? How would that work, I wonder? Do you think he locked people in a small room filled with hungry rats and listened to them scream until they had no secrets left? Or do you think he strapped them down and let rats nibble on them while they were unable to move ? Truly, the opportunities for horror are endless. One must admire the dedication of the man that would go to such lengths for his craft, do you not agree, dear Otto?”

Dear Otto was a rather unflattering shade of green. Heh. Green.

Daemon opened his eyes wide. “Truly, dear Otto, you seem faint. I must ask again. Is aught a matter?”

A weak head shake was all the response he received so he shrugged and forged on. “There is this delightful piece of wisdom I once heard. A naked man has few secrets, but a flayed man has none. And I suppose being eaten alive by rats is a bit like being flayed, isn’t it? Only slower. Much, much slower.”

He truly wondered whether the former Hand might faint at some point. He certainly seemed close enough to it.

“So, anyway, I believe I drifted again. The kitchen. Or rather the kitchen staff. I think I found the cause someone might wish to intimidate them. Even though their board is supposed to be part of their pay, they have been forbidden from it! Such outrage. My grandmother, kind soul that she was, would have whoever was responsible for such a crime flayed herself before feeding them to her dragon.”

Shaking his head at the outrage at the pale former Hand, he turned his concerned eyes at him. “So you see, I must ask for your help to uncover this fiend.”

As Otto stared at him mutely, he dropped his facade and gave him a flat look. “Or rather the fiend’s accomplices as the culprit is already under arrest.” 

“You cannot prove anything.”

He rolled his eyes. “Were you not listening? I have no need of proof . I have you . I have you until the Great Council convenes and there is a lot of skin that can be nibbled on in that time. A lot . And some body parts I am sure you have no true need of. It is up to you whether you wish to keep any secrets for your own or not.”

Daemon was accompanied by two gold cloaks as he stalked towards Maegor’s. It was not that he had not expected collaboration in the queen’s household. That one was quite obvious. It was that he had not expected the extent of his good-sister’s cluelessness. Had she truly never visited the blasted kitchen? How many other aspects the queen’s household held in responsibility had been left unattended?

Fucking hells, he hated the Hightowers.

He waited to be admitted into the queen’s presence with gritted teeth, and they ground together harder once in and greeted by her. 

“Good-brother, welcome. I wished to speak with you regarding this mess with the kitchens. It is outrageous! I must protest their closure without my approval. This is reaching far beyond your affairs!”

“Dear good-sister.” He paused and let the first words that came to mind pass silently. I really, truly, wish I could shake you, strangle you, pack you off to Oldtown, throw you from the highest cliff, into the deepest sea. “The kitchens had to be closed. The meals they served were a hazard. Believe me, that is all you wish to know. Alas, I am here to address the root of the problem. So. If you would point me to your secretary and your household accounts, specifically the ones for the kitchens, I would be most grateful.”

“Surely you must be jesting, good-brother. Why would I know where those books are? They are in my secretary’s keeping.” Her laugh was light and airy and all the more irritating for it.

“Your secretary, then, good-sister.”

She turned to one of her ladies with a smile. “Please let my secretary know that we are expecting him, would you.”

“And the books too.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “And the books too.”

The lady curtsied and was gone.

“I admire that you have time to spare for such trifles when you have such a big event coming shortly, good-brother.”

Daemon blinked at her. Trifles ? “I assure you, good-sister, that the Great Council is far off enough that the running of the realm and the Red Keep need not be set aside.”

She laughed the damned irritating airy laugh again . “Oh, not that . I meant the wedding ceremony! I am so looking forward to that.”

“Are you?”

Another laugh. “Of course! I have never seen a Valyrian wedding ceremony before. It sounds so romantic!”

Romantic ? Valyrian wedding ceremony? “There is blood.” His voice was dry.

Her smile faltered. “What?”

“Most Valyrian ceremonies contain blood. Weddings are no exception. It is called blood bonding for a reason.”

Her voice was faint. “Blood bonding?”

A smile appeared on his face as he nodded happily. Andals and their fear of blood rituals. “Aye. We mix our blood and drink it.”

She seemed to give some thought to whether she wished to ask her next question and while she pondered it, the lady with her secretary and the required books returned.

That was all Daemon needed, and so he grinned at the queen as he motioned to the gold cloaks. “Good-sister, thank you for your cooperation. We will be taking possession of the books and your secretary will be placed under arrest until our investigation into the misuse of the Crown’s finances completes, and we proceed with the executions. After which I expect you will want to find yourself a new secretary. Have a good day.”

He departed with a last nod in her direction, whistling a jaunty tune as the door closed behind him.

Daemon wondered what in the world possessed Laena to invite her to the ceremony, though.

Chapter Text

The good mood lasted only for so long, with every other Lord Nobody of Nowhere-Important felt it their right, their duty in fact, to complain to him about his beloved wife’s conduct. It was not that the conduct was anything to complain about, no, it was stressed to him repeatedly. It was just that mayhaps the prince should inform his lady wife of the importance of Lord This-and-That and that not to include him in her notice was a grave oversight, bordering on a grievous insult, only not considered so due to his lady wife’s long absence from court.

Daemon would very much like to know how not sending someone a basket of fruit could be considered a fucking insult when only the Great Houses were sent one in the first place, and the difference in station should hopefully be apparent to any moron. Only it was not. Or the court was filled with self-important people with intelligence lower than that of an average moron. To speak nothing of their sense of self-preservation if they thought it a good idea to complain to Daemon of all people about this nonsense.

He bore each complaint silently, grinding his teeth and not snapping back what he thought of each and every one of them, feeling exceedingly proud of himself for the self-control he displayed. Truly, Laena would be proud of him, were she to witness it. His teeth would likely be ground to dust by the time of the Great Council, though, if events were to carry on in similar vein for much longer. 

Each lord that spoke to Daemon to complain was most gracious, of course, and none of them forgot to comment on the novelty of the idea of reswearing one’s vows to one’s wife and how lovely and romantic . Fucking romantic . He was coming to hate that word with passion. He also had a sinking feeling that this event would not, in fact, be attended only by family as they had originally planned.

It was a good thing Rhaenys had departed for Driftmark to gather the ceremonial robes, the chalice and the dragonglass blade needed for the ceremony, or she would have gotten an earful from him regarding her daughter’s understanding of the words small and private . He could not complain to Laena , after all. To pledge themselves to each other before the Gods anew had been his idea, and he had expended considerable effort to convince her. It would not do for her to change her mind due to a minor annoyance. He needed those blessings for her.

Still, he needed to speak to Laena as well, because for all her efforts with the Great Houses, there were a lot of people in the Red Keep, and they might actually be responsible for feeding them now with the kitchens closed for the time being. Somehow. He supposed they could let the nobles fend for themselves, as the staff had been for Gods only know how long. 

The only issue with that was that there was only so much food in King’s Landing, and the nobles tended to have more coin to spare than smallfolk. With a lot of nobles desperately racing to acquire food for themselves, they might price out quite a large portion of the poorer denizens entirely rather quickly. Sometimes he hated being able to reason things out. This time, it turns out that to feed the spoiled little brats that most nobles were was to spare the smallfolk from starvation.

He would certainly need Laena for that. For all his ability to command troops and run an efficient war camp, running a household and a damned kitchen specifically was beyond him and deliberately so. The queen was also an option though admittedly likely worse than himself. Ah, mayhaps he should have asked after her plans on resolving the situation when he had visited.

Freezing with one foot half-raised in front of him, he pondered whether he should return to his good-sister’s chambers to inquire after her plans. As he pondered that, a thought occurred to him… She did not strike him as having the best overview of her finances. And he had just arrested her secretary. It was getting rather late in the day, but surely she had not counted on him agreeing to reopen the kitchens. Surely.

He cursed as he turned to head back to Maegor’s, first to find his wife and then so enforced, face the queen again. If there was one thing that was for certain, it was that his good-sister could be quite naive in some matters, and he rather suspected that the speed of resolving the issue with the kitchens was one of them.

Aaah, fuck. Was his brother given any food? Would anyone in his household have enough common sense to procure something for the king themselves? Or would they assume keeping him dosed with dreamwine sufficed? Would they simply switch to milk of the poppy? Did he care? Should he? Daemon had honestly no idea anymore.

Laena first. Everything else would come after.

Only, Daemon did not find his wife in their chambers as he had hoped, though the number of present fruit baskets seemed somewhat reduced, doubtless the sign of her activity. Not significantly so, no, but certainly somewhat. Which was after all the reason for the many complaints.

Words could not express how irritated he was. He had had no sleep whatsoever and just the two blasted apples, and he was not looking for someone to whine at. No, he was running around trying to resolve the issue and apprehend the people responsible and restore order as soon as feasible. His irritation was like as not the only thing keeping him moving by now. He hated the Red Keep and everyone in it at the moment. Well, almost everyone.

Daemon knew he should head back out and try to locate his wife, but he did not want to. He was hungry and miserable and tired, and he just wanted to rest for a while. Seating himself in the window seat, he sighed morosely and bit down on the fruit picked from a nearby basket, he did not even care what it was as long as it was not an apple. This would not have happened had they stayed in Pentos. This would not have happened at High Tide either. He cursed himself for the agreement to come to the capital and taking a position in the Small Council for the thousandth time.

Whatever power had given him a new chance at life would have surely wanted him to change things, he had reasoned. And what better way to do so than here and as a member of the king’s council? He had been a fucking fool. He had not made things better. If anything, he had made them significantly worse and much, much sooner than before.

It made sense, did it not? There was rot at the heart of the realm which had allowed for the terrible war in the wake of his brother’s death. But… With this much rot, was there even any heart left? The more he uncovered, the more everything in him screamed to burn it all to the ground. If not burn it himself, at least let it burn and watch a part of him pleaded, and it sounded entirely too reasonable to him recently. 

Daemon reminded himself that he was happy to be back. Happy to have Laena and Aemon and the new babe, however much he dreaded the danger. Happy to have Rhaena and Baela at their sweetest, long before he would need to worry about protecting their hearts or their virtues from those unworthy of them. Mayhaps he needed to see them to remind himself of that. Aye, he needed to see them.

The nursery was curiously quiet when he entered, and his brows raised as he looked around himself inquiringly. 

One of the nurses rose from her seat to greet him and put an end to his confusion with a smile. “An afternoon nap, my prince.”

Ah. His face cleared, and he nodded his thanks to the nurse before heading to the door to the twins’ chamber and opening it with great care. They were there, in their beds, both asleep, their little faces flushed, clutching their dragons and looking entirely too small in their big, big beds.

An idea occurred to him as he watched them sleep, and his lips turned up in an amused smile, and he moved into the room. He moved Rhaena’s blanket to the side and moved over to Baela’s bed to lift her gingerly out of her bed, taking care not to disturb her sleep and placing her next to her sister and covering them both again.

Then be moved back to Baela’s bed, moved the blanket to the ground and threw the pillows on it before laying down. No one would see him from the door, and the nurses would likely assume they just missed him leaving. There. Daemon could hide from the world and the reality of it, too.

There was soft giggling coming from above him, when he came to, and he did not need to open his eyes to know what the source of it was. Still, he did open his eyes, because as exhausted as he still felt, he did want to see them laughing, even if it was at him.

Two heads of pale curls were hanging over the edge of the bed, eyes sparkling and laughter tinkling. “What are you doing down there?”

He let out a put upon sigh as he shrugged on the ground. “Hiding.”

Their eyes widened dramatically. “Who are you hiding from ?”

Lowering his voice conspiratorially, he replied. “Everyone.”

They let out a gasp and their eyes widened yet more. “Everyone?”

He nodded solemnly. “Everyone.”

There was fascinated horror in their faces. “Even muña?”

Daemon could not hold back an eye roll. “I suppose I could make an exception for your muña.”

“Oh, good. I started to fear there was some mischief I had yet to uncover.”

He laughed at the sound of Laena’s voice. The twins proved not the best shield after all. They had not let on her presence in any way.

She came around Baela’s bed into his line of vision with her arms folded across her chest. “It is your daughters’ bedtime and you have missed the evening meal. Again.”

To be fair, he had missed more meals than that.

Laena kicked his foot lightly as he remained silent. “Come. You need to eat something, and then it is to bed with you too, I think.”

Daemon’s brows rose to hear that. “ I have bedtime now?”

His wife nodded seriously. “You do now. You must have been dead tired to miss our daughters’ antics.”

His brows drew together. He did not like the sound of that, and so he asked with caution. “Antics?”

She hummed and her face split in a grin. “You really should do something about the ribbons before we leave, I think.”

“Ribbons? What ribbons?”

“The ones braided into your hair.”

His hands flew to his hair and true enough, there were fucking ribbons there.

“Do you like it?” There was so much hope in Rhaena’s bright voice, he had to bite down on his tongue to prevent foul words from escaping and give her a pained smile instead.

“I do not even know what it looks like, sweetling.” He had a good enough idea by Laena’s bright smile and sparkling eyes, though.

And true enough, her smile widened at his words, and she folded her hands behind her, the very picture of mischievous innocence as she gestured with her head. “'Tis what the mirror is for, husband. Come. Take a look.”

He did not want to. He truly did not want to face the horror, but the mirror would serve to rid himself of the ribbons faster, so he did so with a great deal of resignation. His daughters dared too much. At least the ribbons were red and black. They would have received a stern talking to had any of them been the horrid pink .

His lips thinned as he realized Rhaena was still waiting for his answer with wide, hopeful eyes. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a calming breath before opening them to look into his daughter’s eyes with a smile. “That was quite a clever use of our House colors, sweetling, but as your muña said, I must remove the ribbons now.”

Her eyes dropped, and she let out a dejected sigh. “Oh, I had hoped you would keep them.”

He would not . Or rather, not in his hair. He dropped to his haunches to caress her curls lightly. “Oh, I do intend to keep them. I would use them as my fair princess’ favor in the next tourney, if she would allow that.”

Rhaena’s eyes widened again, this time in excitement. “Oh, would you? Would you truly?”

He nodded solemnly. “Of course. On my honor as a knight.”

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” His daughter was doing her best to ensure there would be no tourney in Daemon’s future as she squeezed his throat with all her excited strength, and he patted her back helplessly.

His wife was entirely useless, laughing at him behind her hand.

When he finally freed himself of his daughter’s hold and his daughter’s ribbons, he helped his wife to put the excited twins into their beds and breathed a sigh of relief only once the door to their own chambers closed behind him. So much for hiding.

Brows raised, he took Laena’s hands into his and placed the blasted ribbons into them. “May I trust that you will store them safely so that we can find them when the next tourney comes?”

The grin he received was on the mischievous side still. “Of course, husband. On my honor as a wife.”

He rolled his eyes and sat down at the table heavily. Oh so clever, his wife believed herself to be.

“I meant to ask for your assistance in figuring out how to feed the Keep while the kitchens are closed.”

Laena hummed in reply. “Then you should not have hidden yourself away in the nursery. I spoke to the queen and ensured access to the kitchen funds. Then I called for Ser Luthor and had him gather innkeeps from all the inns nearest to the Red Keep. They will be cooking exclusively for the Red Keep in the coming days, and they will be fairly compensated for it, at prices they had before this mess. And I sent word to Stokeworth to send fresh supplies so we would not cause too much damage to the prices in King’s Landing.”

Daemon stared at his wife, somewhat stunned. “Have I told you recently that you are fucking amazing?”

She laughed at him and shook her head. “Not recently enough.”

Chapter Text

The sojourn to Driftmark was more than welcome. For all that remained in King’s Landing behind her, her grandchildren, her daughter, her husband, and her cousins, all of that could not hide the fact that the capital was a viper’s nest and if one did not take a rest from it on occasion, one might be driven insane.

The truth of the matter was that she had grown unused to it in the many years away and, in her recollections, it had never seemed as teeming with snakes as now. Not even when she had been expecting Laena and her father had died, lords giving well-wishes to her face and detracting her as the heir behind her back, had she experienced so much artifice. 

Her husband and herself had been hard at work shoring up support for Daemon ever since learning the truth of the future. They had not been too obvious of it at first, settling for damaging the image of Viserys and his pious hypocrite of a queen and therefore the children of her body. They could hardly have done more visibly, for Daemon had not truly turned against his brother or his niece yet, back then.

Even after, her fool of a cousin would not consent to a plan that would cause too much damage to Rhaenyra or her sons, and they had to make plans behind his back. He might have held affection for her cursed good-daughter, but she did not. She held no affection for her and after learning of her grandsons and the future, she held no sympathy for her either, only resentment. After learning of the threat she posed to her children, she felt little else but burning hatred toward her.

Still, for all the work she and her husband had done in King’s Landing and even Oldtown, those were just two cities, holding not a single of the Great Houses whose voices would be so important come the Great Council. It had been truly a blessing for the three representatives of those to appear and see for themselves the state of the king and the Red Keep, to witness for themselves how drunk on the power he had wielded for so long the Hand had become.

Stark would not be too difficult to convince of Daemon’s worth as the king, not only owing to her fool cousin’s help against the Wildling invasion into the North, but mostly due to his deep resentment of all things related to the Good Queen. Starks were still quite resentful of having to part with the New Gift, effectively ruining their self-reliance on food and ability to answer Wildling raids as effectively as they had for thousands of years.

No, Starks would not be too difficult to convince, she was sure. Tullys would hardly be an issue either, merely wishing for peace and quiet, and largely guided by their largest bannermen, as the presence of the heir to Riverrun in the capital at the behest of Lord Blackwood had shown.

The Vale… The Vale would likely prove tricky. Daemon had shown himself a pain to them, and quite enthusiastically so. There was much resentment between the Royces and him, though he had likely overestimated just how much, thanks to the years that had passed since he had last had reason to spew out his hatred for his first wife in public. After all, the current lord of Runestone would not hold it, had Daemon done his duty on the late Lady Rhea. 

Lady Arryn was quite a puzzle herself, attaching herself to Rhaenyra, yet seemingly not entirely happy with her state. Rhaenys had had few chances to speak to her, but when she had, the lady seemed more and more crestfallen as she had spent more and more time in the capital. She could hardly blame her for that, for Rhaenys herself felt close to tearing out her hair at the state of matters in the Red Keep. Hopefully, she would prove receptive to Rhaenys’ subtle inferences that the realm needed a firm hand to guide it out of the turmoil. Rhaenyra might be many things, but if there was one thing she was very obviously not, it was that, and little needed to be said of Alicent Hightower’s children in that regard.

It had been with great pain in her heart that she had listened to Daemon recount the disloyal Houses and hear her mother’s House listed chief among them. Her uncle had been one of her own greatest supporters and yet his fool son, her fool cousin , had sworn himself to the damned Greens, letting her purported grandson be murdered while acting a messenger to a keep where he should have been treated as kin. All for the price of a groom for one of his daughters.

There had been many messages exchanged between her and Storm’s End while she had been in King’s Landing, but some words could not be trusted to a raven and so, as Rhaenys had left the capital to obtain the implements needed for the ceremony, she turned Meleys south, instead of north. It would be just a short detour to speak to her uncle and hopefully make arrangements that even his fool son could be made to appreciate.

Heavy rain was falling, soaking her entirely by the time she sighted Storm’s End at last, only adding to her somber mood. It had been raining, she had been told, when her cousin had turned his back on his blood and common decency.

She circled Meleys above the keep a few times to give enough notice of her arrival. There had been no message sent of her coming, likely resulting in much confusion and mayhaps even some alarm, considering what messages they likely had received from the capital before the appearance of the Red Queen.

Her uncle and her cousin were both already in the courtyard she landed in by the time she climbed down from the saddle, and she smiled to see it. Her uncle was near enough the age the Old King, her grandfather, had died at, and he was not long for this world either based on what Daemon had said. That was hardly a surprise, and yet it made the importance of speaking to him now, while he was still the Lord of Storm’s End, all the greater. Borros was ever a proud and stubborn man, and only his father could hope to speak and be heard by him.

Both men were quite advanced in their age all things considered and yet, while Boremund had sired a son eventually, Borros had not and would not and Rhaenys was quite ready to exploit that perceived lack.

She stepped toward them with a wide smile on her face, extending her arms toward them. “Uncle, cousin, it has been too long since we last saw each other!”

The smiles she received in turn were warm as well, and for all that her cousin had proven himself a traitor once, she was glad to see it. She had hope that he would never have a cause to turn against her blood, besides.

“Rhaenys, it is quite a surprise to receive you here, though your presence is always a pleasure. Come! Come out of this blasted rain. I called for chambers to be prepared for you, so you can dry yourself and rest there.”

She brought her arms around her uncle, far from feeble even at his age. “Thank you, uncle, that would be most appreciated.” Even as she stepped back from the embrace, she held onto his hands lightly. “I do apologize for not announcing my visit, but it was hardly planned. I left King’s Landing on an errand to Driftmark and thought to pay you a visit as well.”

She embraced her cousin in greeting as well, and he held her firmly, laughing and patting her back. It was difficult to hold back tears, knowing the pain his betrayal had likely caused her future self, the pain it certainly caused her . It could not be allowed to happen. She would never let her family turn on itself. Not again.

While refreshments were sent to Rhaenys as she dried and rested after her journey, she joined her kin for the evening meal in the lord’s solar. Only the three of them were present, and she was grateful for that. She would have preferred a chance to speak with her uncle alone first, before involving Borros, but this would serve as well.

It was Borros that took the lead in the conversation over the course of the meal, and it was him that turned it to the reason for her visit. “We are always happy to have you here, cousin, but do tell us, what is the truth behind your presence here? We have heard of the king’s condition and the Great Council to be called already.”

Her uncle scoffed. “Would that those fools had elected you, niece. Look at you, hale and hearty, a dragonrider in your own right still, despite being Viserys’ elder. 'Tis a crime, a crime, I tell you, that our blood was dismissed in favor of that fool!”

Rhaenys had to suppress a smile at her uncle’s words. They had plainly put some thought into it already before she had even come, and old injuries let themselves be known once more.

“Be that as it may, what is done is done, uncle. We must not look too deeply into the past, we must look to the future. My time has come and gone, and so we must look to other candidates now.”

Borros spoke up with a fierce scowl. “You must not mean to support that usurper’s brats. Not when he treated you so callously. Not when his cursed daughter brought such dishonor to both our Houses!”

She could not hold her smile back any longer. Mayhaps she could forgive the betrayal that was yet to happen when he spoke such. All that he had spoken would be considered a treason to be said out loud in hearing of others, and yet among themselves, they could indeed speak plainly. 

“I have little intention of supporting either the Hightower’s grab for the throne or my good-daughter’s bastards, I assure you. It was made quite clear by the last council that there is little taste for a queen to sit the Iron Throne, yet I would have my blood, our blood, to sit it still.”

Boremund let out a thunderous laugh. “ Daemon ! You mean to seat Daemon and his son, your daughter’s son, Aemon after him on the throne! You think he would take it for himself now? Do you think there were none that wished for him to take the throne from his brother over the years?”

“Father…”

“No! Let her answer!” Her uncle was no longer laughing, turning a glare from his son to her.

“He will now. He would not usurp his brother, but there is the Great Council to come, and he means to put his claim forward.”

Boremund’s face cleared as he leaned back in his seat again. “Good riddance. I asked him. I pleaded with him to do it when he was the only one to help Corlys and I with the Stepstones. It was your husband’s ships that were being robbed on tolls and sunk, but it was my people that were being grabbed and sold into slavery. Lowborn, highborn, it mattered little, and yet the king refused us help. He refused to help and then had the gall to call our war to defend our fucking people illegal!”

Her uncle spat on the ground in disgust. “That is what I think of our fucking king! The Gods have cursed him in his body, in his mind and in his children, and he deserves it fully.”

There was little her uncle could have said that would please her better, and judging by her cousin’s expression it was far from the first he was hearing it all.

“Tell me, cousin, it is of our blood you speak on the throne. I would very much like to see my own blood ascend to it one day as well. Would Prince Daemon be willing to betroth his son to one of my daughters?”

That would have been nice, would it not? Alas, with both Daemon and Laena aligned in this, there was little she could do about it.

“No. And it is not for a lack of regard for you, or your House, cousin. The fool and my daughter agreed not to betroth their children to anyone . They wish to leave them free to choose their own spouse, as I was, as Daemon and Laena themselves were not.” She did not hold back the eye-roll or the exasperation out of her tone.

Another thunderous laugh sounded from her uncle, and yet her cousin seemed appeased enough. Mayhaps now was the time to speak of other betrothals. “While I cannot promise or even discuss Aemon’s betrothal, I can very much do so for my other grandsons.”

Her cousin scoffed and gave her an amused look. “Have we not made it apparent that we have little interest in the princess’ bastards?”

Rhaenys smiled at him, amusement in her own eyes. “I meant Laenor’s sons, not Rhaenyra’s. Addam and Alyn are the very picture of Velaryons, older of his father, younger of his grandfather. They may be illegitimate now, but their legitimization will not be too difficult to acquire once my good-daughter is exposed for what she is. Daemon means to give the Stepstones into their care.”

Her eyes sparkled as they swept from her uncle to her cousin, both listening in rapt attention. “Just think of it. If there is no son of your seed to rule Storm’s End after you, Borros, your eldest daughter can still take a husband of Baratheon blood and keep the name and the control of the Stormlands. There would be no better way to ensure no one rises against her claim than to have her wed her own cousin, a nephew to the king, a cousin to another in due time. And if you do have a son in time, you would still gain the Stepstones into your domain.” 

Her smile stretched into a full grin, and she winked at him. “To speak nothing of the fortune Corlys intends to give his grandsons.” 

Gold tended to sweeten the sour taste of bastardy, and her husband had no intention of leaving any space for sourness at all.

Chapter Text

Rhaenys left Storm’s End feeling much lighter than when she had arrived there the day before, even the weather clearing up, sun peeking through fluffy white clouds. It would be a good day for flying.

She parted from her uncle and cousin, smiling widely, already looking forward to seeing them in King’s Landing in just a few weeks time. It would be good to have all of her family in one place, for it had surely not happened before. Not with her family having this many members. 

Oh, whatever else may come, she was grateful for Daemon’s gift for that alone. She had died not knowing of Addam and Alyn in his dream, and Aemon had never lived at all. And even despite all her protestations that it was far too soon, this new babe… this new babe was a gift as well. If they could change nothing else, this was already so much better than she had hoped for.

But they could change more. They would change much, much more. They already had.

It had been disturbing to learn of the seriousness of Viserys’ condition, and worse still to know that it would have remained unaddressed for years and years to come until his death were it not for the changes already brought on by the dream. It had disturbed her greatly how so much could have been so successfully concealed from even the king’s family.

It brought up uncomfortable questions regarding her grandsire’s passing. Had he wished to see them? Had he wished to see her , her children, his grandchildren, before he passed? She had thought no, and yet looking at Viserys now, attended by his queen and the Hand, the former Hand, now… The same people attended to her grandsire. Was it possible that they had concealed his wishes, his calls for family not in the Red Keep? Had he died believing Rhaenys would not attend him even on his deathbed?

They were thoughts that should not plague her, not so long after his passing and yet, she could not help herself. Jaehaerys had had four grandchildren, three great-grandchildren upon his death, and yet only Viserys, Aemma and their daughter had been at the Keep when he had breathed his last. Had that been due to plotting, trying to split the family apart even before the Old King’s death? Even beyond Baelon’s death? Why had Rhaenys and her children, Daemon, or even Vaegon been called home?

She was turning paranoid, Daemon infecting her with his overly suspicious nature at long last, and the long flight from Storm’s End to Driftmark leaving her with too much time for idle thoughts. Too much time. Her throat was tight with unshed tears for lives not lived, choices not made by the time she finally came to a landing at Driftmark, her son greeting her with a beaming smile.

Rhaenys embraced her grinning son with all her strength, fighting tears as she hid her face against his shoulder.

“Mother, it is good to have you here, I was quite worried when Laena’s raven arrived for you some hours ago, yet you did not.”

His words were a surprise enough to look up into his face and for the threat of tears to disappear. “Laena wrote to me? Whatever for?”

She would have been concerned were it not for Laenor barely suppressing a laugh as he beamed at her. “She wrote to inform you about a … bit of a situation arising in the Red Keep.”

Her hackles raised, she let go of her son with alarm. “Situation? What situation? Is she well? Are the children?”

Laenor did not hold onto his laughter any longer. “Everyone is well. Or rather, as well as is to be expected. Laena is…” His lips twitched madly as he appeared to be searching for the words to use. “Laena is disgusted. Very distressed too, but mostly disgusted. And insisting she cannot be held responsible for her husband’s actions.”

Rhaenys was at a loss. Daemon had been rather busy but ultimately well and reasonable when she had left King’s Landing the day before. What amount of trouble could he get up to in such a short span of time? True, it was Daemon , but he was the Hand of the King now and largely free of authority to rebel against. Daemon should be happy as a clam.

Laenor coughed delicately into his fist. “Well… it would seem that the royal kitchens were overrun by rats. Literally. And well… Daemon discovered it in the middle of the night and took action immediately, closing them down, and investigating the issue. Many nobles were annoyed in the morn, finding there was nothing to be had for a meal in the Red Keep.”

For all her strict upbringing, her jaw dropped, and her mouth hanged open for a long moment as she stared at her laughing son.

“ No. ” It took her a long time to bring herself to utter even that one horrified word.

Oh Gods, the royal kitchens .

Laenor nodded happily.

Rhaenys repeated herself in a firmer voice. “No.”

A wide grin accompanied the vigorous nodding, and she had to close her eyes. No. No, it could not be true. Oh Gods, the royal kitchens.

“Surely, it could not be that bad. Daemon was merely overreacting.”

While Daemon seemed to thrive in chaos, he craved meticulousness when it came to certain matters. Clean kitchen would certainly be one of those matters. He had spent too much time in a war camp and a badly maintained kitchen could cripple an army as well as, if not better than, any enemy force. A mess in the royal kitchens certainly had the potential to be something her cousin would react very, very badly to.

Laenor seemed rather skeptical of her view. “Laena was very distressed. Very .”

Her son might not be aware, but Laena’s distress might also not be the best measure of the situation, given her condition. Aye, she was sure this was all just an overreaction.

She smiled at him and let the topic rest. “Whatever the true state of the Red Keep’s kitchens, I am here on an errand for my fool cousin. Daemon wishes to have the children witness a Valyrian wedding ceremony, and so he wishes to wed your sister anew. I am here for the ceremonial tools. And for you . It is to be only family there and so you cannot miss it.”

Laenor’s brows lifted. “Has Daemon forgotten that the ceremony creates an unbreakable bond between the two? Whatever does he need to wed my sister again for?”

Rhaenys rolled her eyes. “He wishes the children to see. There are no others marrying in the tradition of our ancestors, so Laena and Daemon will demonstrate themselves.” She hesitated, biting on her lip, before she added her own thoughts on the matter. “I do believe it a good idea. We are losing too much of our traditions, too much knowledge of what fire and blood truly stand for. 'Tis only right for the children to see bloodbinding at least once in their lives. And who knows, mayhaps one day they will marry in the Valyrian rather than the Andal tradition.”

Laenor hummed in thought and turned so they would start walking toward High Tide, not speaking at all, and so Rhaenys continued. “Daemon is quite determined for the children to be well-versed in the history of our House and the history and the mysteries of Valyria. Not just dragonriding. I will depart for Volantis to inquire after fitting tutors on the topic likely shortly after the ceremony, certainly no more than a few days.”

Her son finally had something to say to that. “Oh? Tutors? Is it not rather early? The twins are just four.”

She rolled her eyes at her son once more. “The twins are hardly the only children in Daemon’s care, though, are they? Your own sons need to be educated in our heritage, and their education is Daemon’s responsibility now.”

Laenor’s steps faltered as he blinked. “Oh, I did not realize.”

“You should have. They are your sons . 'Tis one thing to love them and to entertain them, but they need to be educated according to their station as well.”

“That… That is something I worry about.”

At her raised brows, he elaborated. “I do not mind being passed over for Driftmark in Laena’s favor, for I never truly wished to be a lord. And yet… Now I find that I have nothing to give my sons. They are merely a knight’s bastards and there is nothing I can do to change it.”

Rhaenys pressed her lips firmly together to bite down on the sharp reply. She counted in her head and then released a slow breath before she spoke. “They may be bastards, but they are still of blood of Old Valyria. They are still my grandsons, grandsons of the Sea Snake, the richest man of the richest House in Westeros. You need not worry about their future, for it will be a bright one.”

She paused and chewed on her lip as she wondered whether to tell him what her visit to Storm’s End entailed. 

“I visited Storm’s End. That is the reason for my late arrival. Borros agreed to betroth his eldest daughter to one of the boys. If he has no son, your son would be a consort to the Lady of the Stormlands. And I know that Daemon thinks of giving the Stepstones into their care, if they prove themselves worthy.”

Besides, Rhaenys still held hope that despite her cousin’s refusal to settle on a betrothal, Addam could be Baela’s consort, once legitimized. It would be so wonderful, if the eldest children of both her babes ruled Driftmark together.

Tension drained from Laenor’s shoulders as he blinked at her. “How did you manage that?”

Rhaenys gave her son a mischievous grin. “A woman ought to keep some mystery about her.”

Laenor laughed, and it was the most beautiful sound she had heard in a long time.

It was getting rather late in the afternoon when they descended upon King’s Landing the next day. She did not lead Meleys to the cove they had left days before, for the last she had seen it, Vhagar had been indeed rather busy making herself a new cave, and she had little wish to be exposed to those horrifically loud sounds ever again.

Both dragons were ill-disposed to the Dragonpit, too used to the freedom Driftmark afforded them, but there could be no argument against the chains still with so many dragons housed in the Pit at this time, too many entirely unfamiliar to them, and she almost wept at the distress Meleys displayed at being treated so.

She could hardly blame the dragons for their less than graceful reaction, when Rhaenys herself would have preferred the cove. It was certainly more convenient and did not require them to cross the city to get to their beds. And she felt fit for bed once the dragons had been wrangled into their assigned pens and chained. It took a lot of cajoling on her and Laenor’s part and a lot of promises to achieve that even as quickly as they had.

Once they finally stepped back into the sun, there were gold cloaks waiting for them, along with two spare horses. She smiled at that. Her cousin was likely quite impatient by now.

Despite the late hour, they found the Red Keep alive with movement, people coming and going in numbers that she was unused to. She beheld it all with a frown on her face. It was too late an hour to go out into the city before the evening meal was served, and yet too early an hour for a visit to the Street of Silk or whatever nightly entertainment one might prefer.

When they dismounted in the courtyard of the Red Keep and handed the horses back into the care of gold cloaks, Rhaenys shared a puzzled look with her son. She wondered what in the Gods’ name was going on. She had wondered it entirely too often since Laena and Daemon had returned from Pentos and an annoyance was growing slowly but surely.

Closing her eyes for a moment to clear her head, she smiled at her son. “Let us go see what mischief your good-brother is up to now.”

Because this was somehow Daemon’s doing, she was sure of it.

They found Laena and Daemon in their chambers, accompanied by her husband and her darling grandchildren, about to partake in their evening meal and any annoyance Rhaenys felt was dispelled by the sight, especially once said grandchildren clambered over each other to be the first to embrace her.

“Cousin, as you can see, we are quite happy to have you back. You too, Laenor, of course.”

Laenor’s only reaction to his good-brother's needling was a snort, busy as he was, greeting his sons.

Laena rose from the table to kiss her on her cheek and smile at her. “Daemon might not say it, but we are very grateful that you are back.” She winked at her conspiratorially. “And that ceremony can proceed before the rest of the Seven Kingdoms can invite itself to it.” 

“I am sorry?” Truly, what was that supposed to mean?

Her daughter’s smile dimmed and the skin around her eyes tightened. “Well, it would seem that there will be members of Valyrian Houses present as well as our family, and we did invite them. But then the queen also invited herself, along with her children, and then Lord Stark with his companions and Lady Arryn with hers. I am fairly certain Ser Elmo will come as well, and likely the remaining members of the Small Council too.”

Rhaenys could barely suppress the laugh that threatened to bubble up from her. “My, what an intimate ceremony you are having.”

Daemon shot her a dirty glare as the corners of her lips twitched, but he remained silent. There was little need for words. His glare spoke them loudly enough.

It was only as she seated herself that she noted the rather unusual fare and her brown climbed. “Since when are the kitchens serving fruit and cheeses for supper? 'Tis little wonder people feel little need to remain for it. ”

Corlys, who had remained silent beyond his greeting, coughed into his fist with some enthusiasm and Laena blinked at her, frowning slightly. “Have you not read my letter?”

“I did, but surely, the unpleasantness had been dealt with already?”

Her husband’s coughing gained intensity, and Daemon’s lips twisted into a smirk.

Laena hesitated before answering, her eyes darting to Daemon. “No, it has not been resolved yet. It… is a rather… We do have the best rat-catcher money can afford.”

Rhaenys’ lips thinned. “If the matter has not been dealt with yet, then I rather doubt it.”

Daemon snorted. “I doubt a dozen rat-catchers could deal with it that quickly. This one certainly knows what he is doing. There has already been a marked difference.”

Rhaenys rolled her eyes at the dramatics. “I do believe you are exaggerating, cousin.”

His smile widened, and he raised a single brow at her. “Oh? You believe so? There were rats everywhere in the kitchens. On the work surfaces, in the pantry, in the larder, on the fucking floor . I even stepped on some. In the fucking royal kitchen. So please , tell me, cousin, how much exactly I am exaggerating .” The last part was snarled.

She was tempted to roll her eyes at him once more, but Corlys was no longer coughing, rather looking at her rather seriously. Laena was looking at her with wide eyes, nodding when their gazes met.

She breathed out in shock instead. “ What ? How ?”

“That is hardly a conversation to be had over a meal.” Daemon informed her grimly.

Laena smiled. “Aye, let us not speak of it more now. The important thing is that the matter is being dealt with, culprits caught, and no one goes hungry. That should include us as well, so let us eat. I am starving .”

Rhaenys gave her daughter a weak smile and a nod. Aye, hardly a conversation to be had over a meal, she had to agree with her cousin. Culprits, Laena had said. What culprits? What is there to be gained by anyone by infesting a kitchen, albeit the royal one, with rats?

She let out a weak chuckle, making an attempt at humor. “I suppose I need not have rushed so to get everything for the ceremony. We can hardly hold it now.”

Laena laughed. “Oh no. No no no. We are not putting it off. 'Tis like I said, I have little wish for the rest of the Seven Kingdoms to invite themselves.”

Rhaenys shook her head with a smile. “Tomorrow, then?”

“No, not tomorrow. Day after. I have some matters to attend to regarding our ever-expanding guest list first.”

Daemon was nothing if not mysterious. Still, she kept her smile. “Very well, the day after, then.”

Chapter Text

Occasionally, Daemon found himself missing the Stepstones. Occasionally. And the occasions had been quite rare. Despite the general gloom of the islands, the chaos of a war camp, and the Triarchy trying to kill him, there was predictability to it all. It was a war.

There was no such predictability in the Red Keep. Where there had been order underneath the chaos of a war camp, there seemed to be chaos beneath the appearance of order in the capital. He was slowly but surely being driven insane by it. And the hits just would not stop coming.

There had been one bright spot in his near future, he had believed. That one event, that would ensure that his wife and their new babe would be safe . There would be the ceremony, they would bind their blood again, they would give their blood to the tree and all would be well.

But that bright spot was now marred by the shadow of half the blasted court attending it. That would not even be an issue for him, for their first wedding had few witnesses and Laena deserved to have a well-attended ceremony, but there was his niece . He had wished for the ceremony at least in part to settle matters for good in his own mind and if Rhaenyra were to attend, which he knew she would if she learned of it, he would not be granted peace at all .

Rhaenyra could not be allowed to attend. It was that simple and yet with so many people already aware, it would be a damned miracle if she remained ignorant of it.

He could not forbid her from coming, not when his good-sister of all people had invited herself along with her children already. He could hardly stop her from coming by force, and it was far past apparent that trying to speak reason to her was a waste of time and breath on his part.

No, this required a lighter touch and therefore time, which was the main reason why the ceremony could not happen yet .

Lady Priscilla’s steps slowed considerably, her eyes showing caution, as she entered Maegor’s and found him waiting for her once more. Good, she seemed to be a smart one.

“Good morrow, my prince.”

“ Good morrow, my lady .”

A look of resignation passed over her face, and Daemon bit down on a grin. Aye, she was a smart one.

“ Whatever can I do for you this fine morn, my prince? ”

“ I would be most interested in your friends among the ladies in the household of the Princess of Dragonstone. Are they content? Do they care for the princess well? I do worry for my niece so, especially considering recent developments, and I do not believe I could bear the thought that she might not be in good hands. And I would certainly like to know who the most caring hands belong to. ”

The girl blinked at him, puzzled, and frowned in thought. “ I would have to inquire, my prince. I… have not spoken to them much since I left. Is this… Is this something you would wish addressed… quickly? ”

His smile stretched. “ Aye, it is indeed. I would like to have someone to speak of my concerns regarding my niece by midday. Someone entirely reliable. ”

Her eyes widened in shock. “ You wish to… By midday?! ”

“ Aye, by midday. I fear my concerns cannot wait. ” He replied solemnly.

The lady hastily looked around them and hissed at him. “ They will not spy on her! None of them will spy on her! Do you think the Greens have not tried that before ?”

She had forgotten herself, but he could forgive her for that in this instance. “ I have no need of spies, I assure you. I merely require a person that is high in my niece’s trust and that expresses a concern for my niece’s health to speak to. And I wish to know whether there is such a person by midday. ”

The girl drew back, looking at him with no small deal of distrust, but she nodded at last. “ I will see whether such a person exists and let my prince know… by midday. ”

Daemon inclined his own head with a smile. “ That is all I ask. I will be in my office, if I am needed before noon. Otherwise, I will join my wife and children for a midday meal. Have yourself a pleasant day. ”

The girl stayed rooted to the spot as he turned away to walk out of the holdfast.

Things were certainly looking up as his day was certainly much less rat-centered, made even brighter with something truly positive on the horizon. No need to darken it with an execution or two. Those could wait until after the ceremony, and after they made entirely certain there were no other culprits to be identified.

Beesbury was horrified and apologetic in equal measure to find just how much gold had been stolen over the years on his watch. He had been quick to offer his resignation from his post as the Master of Coin, but Daemon had been quick to shut that nonsense down. 

The Small Council was sparse enough as it was, and he had little need to have even more trouble laden onto him. No, Beesbury was more welcome to the post and to figuring out how to get the gold back from wherever the fuckers squirreled it away.

Ser Luthor and his men were already running all over the city, thoroughly checking various shops and suppliers listed as providing for the Red Keep kitchens. Little had been found in the way of evidence so far, given that so many of them simply did not exist.

This mess had been going on for years, and they had no true idea where the supplies in the Red Keep had in fact come from. 

He could already tell this was going to be a joy to unravel, and Beesbury and Ser Luthor may keep that headache to themselves. He would very much prefer it, if they did.

There were other headaches for him to concern himself with besides. 

The message to Lys, to inform his runaway nephew, or rather his puppet masters, of the Great Council to convene had been sent, the fool woman selecting her brother as the messenger. He wished Ser Gwayne good fortune, for it seemed his own sister cared little for his life to send him to that nest of vipers.

His brother’s condition had seemingly entirely deteriorated, having created a world where Aemma and Baelon both lived and remained locked within it now, either unwilling or unable to leave it, as he had been informed when the slightly breathless Grand Maester at last caught up to him, ending the days of Daemon’s successful avoidance of the topic. He idly wondered how his brother living in that particular fantasy differed from the fantasy of the years past.

His head pounded by the time the bells rang the midday, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he heaved himself out of his seat and walked back to Maegor’s and the welcoming chaos that was his family. Those headaches he appreciated.

Much as he expected, he was greeted with much enthusiasm in the nursery, a daughter each attaching herself to a leg, making it rather difficult to walk.

“Kepa! Kepa! Is it true? Is it true? Will you marry muña tomorrow?”

He cast his eyes to Laena, who was quietly laughing at him. “Did your muña not tell you already? You should believe her in these matters.”

“Oh, it will be so beautiful, kepa. I will be the best flower girl!”

Daemon blinked down into the upturned faces of his twin daughters, experiencing a strange sense of discomfort as he had entirely too much trouble telling them apart all of a sudden, their enthusiasm somehow perfectly mirrored. Enthusiasm for the same thing at the same time. Without fighting over it. What was the world coming to?

He blamed the strangeness for not picking up on the Rhaena’s words faster. “What do you mean, flower girl?”

“Baela and Naerys and I are going to scatter rose petals all over the ground before the ceremony and then throw the rest all over you and muña at the end!”

Unbalanced, that was what he was. “That… is not how Valyrian ceremonies go.”

“Muña said we can make our own rules for flowers!”

“I am sure she did.” And he could not even argue against it, lest she withdraw her agreement entirely.

There was half a court to attend, and they would have the most harebrained idea of a Valyrian wedding ceremony ingrained in their memory for the rest of their lives. To speak nothing of his own children committing such unspeakable acts to the proud legacy of dragonlords.

The twin faces were still upturned, waiting for something, so he sighed and gave it to them. “Aye, you will be the two most beautiful flower girls this world has ever seen.”

His legs were squeezed and then released, and the twins bounced off as he stared after them, shocked beyond belief. The world must surely be coming to an end for Baela to be as infected by the excitement for a wedding as her sister.

As the children mobbed his wife once more, Lady Priscilla came to stand by his side. “ Lady Elinda Massey seems to share your concern for the princess’ well-being, my prince, and would be willing to speak of them. ”

A bewildered expression left behind by his daughters was replaced by a delighted smile. “Thank you. I will be sure to speak to her.”

Elinda Massey had been the most loyal lady Rhaenyra had ever had. She would never betray her and lay down her own life for her. Elinda Massey would be above any suspicion, for she was beyond reproach.

Aye, she was perfect.

He came upon Lady Elinda as she walked with her head bowed back toward his niece’s chambers on her way from the sept. Doubtlessly, she had been praying for the princess’ health there. If Daemon were any judge of character, he would have judged the poor lady in love with her princess. 

“My lady, would you mayhaps have some time to spare to speak with me or how my poor niece is faring? I fear the recent events might have put an unseemly strain on her.”

She stopped abruptly and looked at him wide-eyed. “My prince, I could never betray the princess’ confidence!”

Daemon laughed the words away. “I do not wish for you to betray your mistress. No, I would be most wroth were you to. I do have some concerns of my own I would like to speak of with you. If you were amenable, that is.”

The lady worried at her lip, but did relent and let herself be led back to the sept. The blasted place was mostly abandoned most of the time anyway.

As they entered and found themselves indeed alone, he spoke with great feeling. “I would not have approached you, my lady, but I am most concerned for the princess with all these events, concerns for her father and all of it on top of her recent loss… Is she truly well? From what I have seen of her in my time in the capital, she seemed under quite a strain even before and now…”

He paused for effect and let dismay show on his face. “She seems to be afforded so little peace. Is the princess sleeping well? I truly cannot fathom the stress she must be under. 'Tis a such a horror to find these Greens plotting so everywhere I look.”

The lady relaxed her guard at last as he finished, and gave him a sad look. “'Tis as you suspect, my prince. She has been afforded little peace, even in her sleep. I can do little but serve the princess to the best of my ability and remain loyal to her only.”

Daemon nodded solemnly, agreeing with her completely. “Aye, that is all any of us can do. I wonder… Has the princess seen a maester? Surely, Maester Gerardys would be a great comfort to her.”

Elinda Massey shook her head with a sad sigh. “The princess insists she is well. There is no need for a maester, not even Maester Gerardys.”

Daemon shook his own head sadly. “That is truly a shame. Gerardys is a damned fine healer, his skill would be surely put to good use. But… No, nevermind. I could not ask…”

The lady looked at him with wide eyes. “Is there…? Is there something…”

He shook his head resolutely. “I truly could not ask it of you.”

“If there is anything to help the princess…” She looked him firmly in the eyes. “I will do anything that needs to be done.”

Daemon made sure to gentle his voice and insert some pity into his gaze. “'Tis plain the princess does not wish to trouble others. She is so proud, poor thing. I think… I think she would not accept help if it was offered. She did reject mine own quite ferociously.”

He paused meaningfully and let her draw her own conclusions. Elinda Massey spoke no High Valyrian, after all.

Her eyes widened comically. “Oh!”

Daemon continued speaking, barely suppressing a smirk. “I do have a… remedy from the East. It affords one peace of mind and I do worry for the princess’ on the morrow. She does have such a terrible run of weddings, her own and the queen’s, I would hate to see my own reproduction of one to cause her even more distress.”

She was no fool, for she grew alarmed at the mention of a remedy, as she most certainly should. “I… I could not… How would I even know it to be safe ?”

He smiled at her kindly and reached inside his doublet to draw our three identical vials. “'Tis quite safe, I assure you. One vial for one pitcher of wine. Two pitchers on the morrow, would serve for the best, I believe.”

Her chin raised defiantly. “I do apologize, my prince, but I cannot simply take your word on it. There are too many that would see the princess brought low.”

Daemon was not the least bit offended. “You need not take my word on it. There are three vials and I believe only two are needed on the morrow. Whichever vial you pick, I will drink on the spot, and you will be able to observe the lack of adverse effects yourself.”

The lady hesitated only a moment before accepting and taking the vials into her hands to examine them, even uncorking them and smelling each carefully. 

When she picked one, she handed it to Daemon, and he drank it with a smile, folding his arms afterward.

When nothing happened even after long moments of silent observation, Lady Elinda let out a long breath and smiled herself. “One vial for one pitcher of wine, you say, my prince?”

“Aye, one in the morn and the other after the midday meal would be my advice.”

She pressed the vials to her chest and beamed at him. “Thank you, my prince.”

He rolled his eyes at her back as she strolled away. Were he a poisoner that girl would have gotten Rhaenyra killed.

Strolling into the chambers he shared with his wife, he headed directly for the bedchamber, Laena following after him, watching quietly as he undressed himself and prepared for bed.

“Whatever happened to you to be going to sleep before me?”

He threw her a grin. “Must I be going to bed before you? You may join me as well. I think we both deserve a good full night of peaceful sleep before the bustle of tomorrow.”

Laena huffed. “You are in an entirely too good a mood.”

Daemon hummed agreeably. “Shall I help you out of your dress, then? It does seem to be one of those awful contraptions that are impossible for you to take off on your own.”

His beautiful wife shook her head with a laugh and let him undress her. All was well. All would be well.

Chapter Text

To have her secretary arrested so had been baffling. But then again, so had been the arrest of her father. No, the arrest of her secretary had not been truly as baffling as it had been… disappointing.

Alicent had long known that she and her children were not truly of import to her father, that he saw them as mere pawns for him to use to get and keep power over the realm. And yet, for all that she had known, she had plainly not fully realized what it truly meant for her .

It would not be her father that would be judged for the state of the kitchens, the state of the Red Keep, the state of her household. No. It would be Alicent that would bear the blame for all of that. She would be judged for all of it.

Alicent had known she had been but a pawn, but she had failed to realize just how much of one and how insubstantial in the eyes of her own father she truly was. He had not thought to educate her on the duties of the queen. No, he had merely seen her as a broodmare, had let her muddle through, and had exploited her ignorance.

A fool girl. 

She had been the queen for well over a decade, and she was still just a fool girl, blind to the lack of esteem, of consideration, her father had for her.

But now… Now, it did not matter anymore, for her father was languishing in a cell, allowed no visitors, and her brother had left as her emissary to Lys, to inform her son of the Great Council to take place. With her father in a cell, her brother gone and Larys Strong dead , there was no one high enough in her father’s trust to know to challenge her, should she make a move.

And moves she had already made.

The moment her brother’s ship had sailed, she had sent word to Hightower to send Daeron back to King’s Landing at once. She needed him by her side, safe, where there was no one left to misuse him. The message had not contained mention of her father’s changed situation, and she hoped that the news would not reach Oldtown before her son was safely on a ship home.

Aegon would not be king. Aegon would not be king and the realm would be better off for it, but his siblings could be put in greater danger for it. She could not allow it. Aegon… Aegon was the eldest, and she had sought to protect him since the day he had been born, for he was in the greatest danger of all. And yet Aegon was free now, away in Lys, and the Great Council would never vote to put him on the throne now that he had wed a foreigner, a slaver's daughter, in a godless ceremony.

It was her other children in danger now. Her innocent babes.

Aegon would not be king, and yet Rhaenyra could not be allowed to ascend the Iron Throne.

Her younger children, should any of them ascend, would be exploited or worse.

That left only one option and while far from ideal… Her good-brother had no reason for animosity toward her children other than her father. And surely, any animosity to her father would be resolved with his imprisonment and eventual death. There would be little cause for the Rogue Prince to turn his gaze on her children and see them for a threat.

Aegon would never be king, because he would not have great enough support. But he would still have support, being a male claimant. Aegon would never win and Daemon might not win with the vote split three ways. She could…

Alicent could not truly say anything, lest she face the wrath of her uncle and she had little power besides.

There were small things she could do, but being friendly to her good-sister had met only with bafflement on her side so far.

A clear enough statement needed to be made, yet hopefully not too clear. And the wedding would be perfect for it.

She looked into her mirror with a smile. She had worn green for so long, she had almost forgotten that she could wear dresses of different colors. Running light fingers over the rich blood-red gown without even a stitch of black on it, she believed the statement to be plain enough. And yet, who would dare criticize her for wearing a red gown , being wed to a Targaryen?

Her ladies had been wide-eyed and confused over the dress ever since she had ordered it made and followed her out of her chambers decidedly subdued as she went to collect Helaena and Aemond, both dressed in red and black of their House.

The struggle between the Greens and the Blacks was over, neither winning. But the one between the Blacks and Reds? Oh, that one was just beginning, and Alicent would do all in her admittedly limited power to ensure it would be the red dragon to prevail.

When she came to her children, Aemond’s eyes seemed about to pop out of his head at the sight of her. Her sweet boy had never seen her in anything but green either, and he gaped at the red. 

Helaena smiled at her sweetly. “You look well, mother. I like this dress better.”

Alicent grinned at her daughter. “Thank you, sweetling. I like it better, too, I think.”

Aemond’s nose scrunched adorably in puzzlement. “You seem… different. Are you well?”