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Chapter Text

The only thing that kept her going was the thought of her sweet granddaughters. They were young and gentle and so very sweet, and without their mother, their only parent was her cousin Daemon, and while she knew he loved them in his own way, she also knew he did not know how to care for them, not in the ways it would matter.

Laenor’s funeral was a dark and dreary day, his body unrecognisable and the painting on the sarcophagus done by the best painters and yet still failed to capture his life essence that she could not bear to look at it. After the funeral, they had taken her granddaughters away, Daemon said he would send word on a possible wardship for Baela or Rhaena and Rhaneys clung to it with all her might.

Her granddaughters needed her, so she must continue on.

When word reached her, days after the funeral, that Daemon had married Rhaenyra a dark sense of understanding settled into Rhaenys’ gut.

They had killed her boy, her precious son, all so that they might marry.

How dare they.

How could they?

Laenor was worth the entire world and they’d killed him for what? The ability to marry? Laenor would have been content to continue claiming his wife’s bastards, at least with Daemon they may have the silver hair of Valyria as a cover, but instead they’d killed him.

Killed him for greed, and power and Daemon’s well known self-aggrandisement.

And she hated them for it.

She once more appealed to Corlys, let Baela inherit Driftmark, as was her right as her mother’s first born trueborn child.

Corlys had stared stonily at the words upon the letter informing them of Rhaneyra and Daemon’s ‘happy news’, and stated he was needed at war once more.

He left.

It hurt.

Lost in her guilt and grief over the loss of her son and daughter each in quick succession, Rhaenys Targaryon’s missed moons blood was not entirely unexpected, at six and forty she knew the change would be upon her as was the way of life.

But life had been so unnatural of late; no mother should ever have to bury a child, let alone two, so a renewal of normal life seemed wholly unnatural to the proud princess and Lady of Driftmark.

Everything hurt.

Laena, her dear beloved girl, dead in some foreign land.

Laenor, killed by a man within his own home.

Her own home.

She was sick. She’d wake up lethargic, though her stomach was always unsettled and she’d loose whatever remained of the previous nights dinner, it happened so consistently that the servants had left a pot at the edge of her bed so she did not need to move.

Corlys, her cowardly husband, abandoned her. Too caught in his own grief for their dearest children that he would rather go off fighting in some stupid war than be here, with her, to weather the storm together.

She resented him for it some days, and other days she yearned to join him, to be away from this place that had taken so much from her. To not have to think about her Laena and Laenor because it just hurt so very much.

Things continued on, her heart filled with sorrows and pain as she walked through the halls that had once been filled with her children’s laughter, ghosts of Laena and Laenor would haunt around corners and at the ends of hallways, just a glimpse, a trick of the light nothing more.

It was two months after Corlys left that Rhaenys realised what had happened. She had not been eating well, not only was she no longer able to keep things down consistently, but the weight of the world had seemed too much so that some days she would ignore the plentiful foods put in front of her, part of her willing to waste away, so it would only lend to reason that she’d have lost weight, not gained it.

Her belly was firm and had a slight protrusion, the kind she had searched for as a young woman excited to become a mother for the first time.

Her heart hammered under her breast as she cupped the bump under her hands.

She was too old!

She thought of her grandmother Alysane, she’d been four and forty, not that much younger than Rhaneys herself, but the pregnancy had been difficult and the labour had almost killed her.

She had farewelled motherhood alongside her son’s burnt body, perhaps the hardest thing she’d ever done, but she’d done it because otherwise her grief would have killed her.

She was scared too. If she was right, and the small bump certainly said she was, but if she was right, she was too old and her last pregnancy had almost killed her.

She rubbed the bump in quiet consideration.

If it was true…

If it was a babe, then it would be worth it. Her heart hurt terribly, and no babe would ever replace her first two, but she could make room, for a new child.

And if she died in the attempt, then at least she’d be with her sweet babes once more.

Dressing with nerves she had not felt since she had been a young woman, she resolved to go about life as if nothing had changed.

If her suspicion was right then there was not much to be done. She would not take moon tea, she wanted this child, wanted them with all her heart, and if the gods were truly merciful, they’d be in her arms in a few months.

If she was wrong, she had no interest in being the gossip of her own castle, a mad grieving woman desperate for something that will never come again.

She resolved to eat more. Walk more. She’d take Melys out on more flights before she got too big…

Gods she hoped. She was scared, but she wanted this.

And she swore, by fire and blood - by the old, the true, and the brave - by any gods that would take her vow, this child would live, safe and happy and protected.
---

It was certain that Princess Rhaenys was pregnant after a month. Her lady’s maids had needed to take out several dresses, and she’d even had to go commission a few new dresses that would have more adjustable waists.

When in talks with the Maester she agreed to send word to Corlys. Her husband should know if his impending fatherhood, and a strange sense of nostalgia hit her as she remembered sending word of her pregnancy with Laena.

She sent the ship off with explicit instructions not to return without her fool husband, the time for fighting pirates and raiders and foolish young men was done, he was needed here, with her.

She was wroth when a six weeks later it was her goodbrother Vaemond that arrived to determine the veracity of her message.

Apparently Corlys thought she had taken leave of her senses and Vaemond’s stunned face upon his seeing her was enough to make her want to slap him. She practically dragged him back onto the ship with a verbal lashing, and told him he would not be welcome on Driftmark unless he brought his brother back with him.

It would be at least another month. It took two weeks with good winds to reach the Stepstones, and another two weeks to return.

She’d be much larger then. She was already larger than she thought she should be, and the Maester cautiously raised the possibility of procuring moon tea, ‘before the decision is out of our hands’.

It had been what she’d done before. Only twice, with the agreement between herself and Corlys after the difficulties of what she had thought would be her final birth, they’d agreed two had been enough. A son and a daughter, why tempt fate when they were so happy?

She hadn’t even been certain those times, her moonsblood could have been late, or skipped, it was known to happen.

But this time it was different. Her two perfect children were gone, one stolen by the gods, because the childbed had always been a battlefield, and one stolen by the greed of Rhaenyra and Daemon.

She wanted this child though. She wanted to hold her babe in her arms, she wanted to look on with pride as her child took their first steps, spoke their first word, and hugged her with all their might.

So she continued onwards.

She flew on Meleys only two more weeks after that. She found her breath became shorter and she had difficulty walking long distances as her feet swelled up and her back ached.

She ate well and often, the babe was hungry and she was ever glad for her husband’s island seat, as she constantly craved oysters.

Her last trip outside of High Tide’s walls for the duration of her pregnancy was when she was informed by the dragon keepers, that Meleys had given a clutch of five eggs. She had visited her great she-dragon and felt a comradery with her beast. Mothers again, mayhaps one last time, certainly the final time for Rhaenys.

She had the eggs brought into High Tide, into the rooms next to her own, and she spent more time abed than walking the halls, with the heaviness of her belly, the worries of the Maester, and the degradation of her health as she felt more and more tired each day, she barely left her own solar.

She had to do it. She wanted this child so badly. It would not replace her precious Laenor and Laena, but it might help heal the massive hole that had been left in her heart.

Corlys arrived after nine weeks.

He’d been full of excuses, the weather, the fighting, the defence of his trade lines, but the moment he saw his wife, pale, exhausted, and round with child, his excuses died on his tongue.

“Rhaenys, my love.” He moved to her side, gently taking her hand in his.

“Corlys, you foolish man. How could you leave?” Rhaenys did not even have the usual stern look about her, her exhaustion clear, though her eyes still told Corlys of her displeasure.

“I did not know, how could I have known?” His other hand moved to touch her belly, it was large enough that he knew this was the point he might even feel a kick.

It was a surprise, he’d thought the days of his and Rhaenys chances of a babe quickening were long since gone. They’d agreed after the last almost deadly birth that two was enough, a boy and a girl, what more could they need?

And now his beloved wife was killing herself in an attempt to give him another child.

“I know you did not know about the babe Corlys. You left me, you left me after our children died and were given back to the sea and I was left here on the shores alone.”

Corlys’s face shuttered, grief, guilt, pain. To lose one child was torture, to lose both had been unthinkably cruel.

It had been him that had led them here. He had been the one to push for Laenor’s marriage. It had been him that should have protected Laena from marrying such a character as Daemon Targaryen. How could he not leave? How could he stay in the same halls as his beloved wife knowing the pain etched in her face was there because he had failed?

“Rhaenys I am sorry.” There were no other words he could give. No excuse he could make. An apology for a thousand different sins, and for the pain he’d caused the woman he loved and held in the highest esteem.

Tears fell, he’d never let anyone but his dear Rhaenys see him cry.

Rhaneys wiped the tears away with soft hands and moved her hand to cover the one on her stomach.

“I need you to promise me, this child is a new beginning. It does not undo what has come before, but this child is the summer after a long and dark winter. Promise me no matter what happens, you will protect this child.” Rhaenys’s face was solemn, the cheer she had once held when pronouncing her pregnancies was gone, now only an old woman who had seen too much of the world remained.

“I swear Rhaenys, this child will be the most protected child in the world. They will be loved, adored, they will want nothing.” He kissed her, long and sweet and gentle.

When he moved slightly back, his head still resting against her forehead, his hands returned to hold her own. “You must make me a promise in return Rhaenys. You must live, you must survive this pregnancy and we will raise this child together. You are my queen, even without a crown, you’ve always been my queen, and I cannot raise this child without you.”

Rhaenys gave a small smile, the bags under her eyes and the paleness of her cheeks was only highlighted as he looked at her. “I intend to be here Corlys, it is you that is the ship, I’ve always been the anchor.”

Corlys moved over to climb into bed behind his wife. He gently pulled her against him, ever glad to feel her breathing against him.

He was scared, he did not wish to lose her. She’d always been a constant, he’d always expected her to be the constant of his life. He was older than her, so he always expected she would outlive him, so he never thought he’d have to live without her, he was selfish with that thought and yet it had always been a comfort.

Then again, his children were meant to outlive him as well. Laenor was meant to be Lord of the Tides, and Laena was meant to be a mother to her sweet daughters.

He could not lose Rhaenys on top of all of the grief.

He was a bad man, he’d done terrible things, questionable things, cruel things. He’d sired bastards, tortured men and worked with slavers. He’d placed his children in harm's way, and paid dearly for it.

If the gods would listen to a sinner’s prayer, then he prayed for his wife’s safety, and the child she so clearly wanted, might it heal her and give them the new beginning she spoke of.

He remembered the previous queen, the bags under her own eyes, the pale sickly pallor of her skin…Rhaenys was stronger than her.

She was the strongest woman he knew.

She fell asleep on him, and he did not enjoy hearing the harshness of her breath. He closed his eyes, allowing a silent prayer to enter his mind, if the gods were truly there, let them take him before they took her, let her live and be happy, and let the child grow to know love and joy and safety.

---

When the labours started Corlys had been in his solar attending the letter from Daemon, inquiring about the possibility of Baela’s warding in a few months time, after she got to meet her new sibling which was in Rhaneyra’s belly.

Corlys half snarled at the thought, was his daughter so mistreated in those years away that she meant to little the Daemon Targaryen that he could remarry and breed so quickly?

Did his son’s life mean nothing to a couple that were so caught up in themselves that they decided to double a grieving couple’s pain?

He loved the girls, Baela and Rhaena, his beloved granddaughters, how could he not, they were the very image of their mother, but he had lost any love for their father when the news of his new marriage had been received. He even liked Rhaenyra’s bastard boys, they were softer than one would want for a lad, but they were good boys - but they were not of his blood, and more importantly their mother had killed his own son.

As frustrating and unfathomable as he found Laenor, he had been his son. His first born son, his pride and joy, he’d been so proud fighting side by side with Laenor in the Stepstones, finally something they could relate to each other with, something they could do together.

And she killed him.

He heard the whispers, Daemon had paid money to the worthless shit Qarl Corry to murder his son, inside his own home, all so Daemon could marry Rhaenyra.

They’d conspired against his house, his family, his son.

He did not wish to entertain any ties with Daemon or Rhaenyra, some he’d have to keep, if only for sweet Baela and Rhaena, but now, after all was said and done, his mind thinking of his dear Rhaenys and her council all these years…yes perhaps it was time to let go of his ambition for throne, his wife needed him, and the child she was carrying needed him.

A maid had come running, telling his Rhaenys’ labours had started and so all resentful thoughts of Daemon and Rhaenyra had left, only to fill his mind and heart with worries for his wife.

He ran, in his own halls, he ran like a madman and found himself outside the door.

Torture.

It was always torture, the wait.

He’d been beside Vaemond when he’d waited for his own wife’s labours, and so Vaemond too had come.

They hadn’t been close in recent years. After he allowed Rhaneyra’s first son to keep the name Velaryon instead of naming the child a bastard, Vaemond had pulled away, furious at the slight to their house.

But he came back.

Vaemond sat with him as he waited, sweaty, shaky and terrified that the news would come that his wife and the babe had died, or perhaps worse, Rhaenys had died and he had an infant child to look after.

He never looked after Laenor or Laena as babes, he’d been away on his voyages. He’d only settled for a length of time when they were old enough to need instructing, so he might teach them the rich heritage of being Velaryons.

After their deaths, he regretted not spending every minute with them, from birth until death, he should have been there every moment he could, the riches were not worth it.

If the babe survived, he’d do his best to keep his promise to Rhaenys, but he was not certain he could succeed alone.

He paced.

He stared at the door.

He paced some more.

The screams were awful.

He’d heard the likes of screaming on the battlefield, the smell of smoke and salt and the taste of blood on one’s own tongue.

Rhaneys screamed and he could do nothing to help her.

Vaemond kept him sane. Every time he’d storm up to to door ready to rip it open in an attempt to save his wife, Vaemond would walk him back, reminding him that he’d hired the best midwives, sought out the best Maesters and bought the greatest physicians in the known world here to help Rhaenys.

Not even Queen Aemma had the likes of these experts.

Corlys waited, and he prayed.

Finally, mercifully the door opened.

“Congratulations my Lord, twins.” The old midwife had a pleased smile as she held the door ajar.

Corlys, ready to rush in, found himself stopping short at her words. Twins.

Twins.

He looked at her dumbfounded then looked beyond her to Rhaenys’ pale form upon a bloodied bed.

He moved without thinking to her side, she was awake, pale and sweaty but she’d never looked more beautiful, he took a hold of her hand and brought it to his lips to give a kiss. She was hot to the touch, and so clearly exhausted, her eyes still scrunched slightly in pain. She was all that existed in that moment, just the two of them together.

“Twin’s my love.”

At Rhaneys’ words the world came back to time. He swallowed thickly, at the thought. Two babes, mayhaps the gods were kind.

The crying from behind him alerted him to his new child…children. He turned to find a girl gently rocking a small bundle, and behind her the Maester held a second.

The girl moved forward first, gently placing the squalling babe into his arms, his heart warming as he noted Rhaenys’ nose, and his own father’s brow. “A son m'lord.”

Corlys looked at his new son and the storm that had begun once word had come of Laena’s death seemed to finally calm.

“Aethan Velaryon.” He looked to Rhaenys for her consent and she nodded tiredly. They’d discussed several names, she had given him leave to choose between Aethan and Corwin, and the boy looked like an Aethan.

The Maester moved and placed the second bundle of crying babe onto his wife’s chest, “A daughter princess.”

Rhaenys looked down, entirely enchanted by her new daughter and Corlys was relieved to see some of the stress and pain that had been ever present in the past few months, slowly eke away. “Jocelyn, for my mother.”

It had not been a name they’d discussed, they’d always discussed Velaryon names, Daenys or Larissa, but seeing the joy on his wife’s face, he would not take it from her.

Corlys nodded and looked up to find Vaemond grinning at him as he had done in their youth, “Ring the bells, let the world know of Aethan and Jocelyn Velaryon’s birth, today is a day of celebration.”

The gods had given him a second chance. They weren’t a replacement for his first children, Laenor and Laena would laways be in his heart, but Aethan and Jocelyn were a new beginning, and he’d do everything he could to do right by them, he’d swear it by the old gods, the new gods, the drowned god and the Valyrian gods.

---

Rhaenys had been weakened by the birth. She remained abed for weeks, and still returned to it more readily than she had before the birth. Aethan and Jocelyn were mostly healthy babes, Aethan was the smaller of the two but with the close and dedicated work by the wet-nurses, his son seemed to be gaining strength as each day came and left.

Rhaenys had placed Meleys’ eggs in the cradles, just as she had done for Laenor and Laena, and once more, the second and third dragons born to Driftmark were born, Aethan’s a deep, rich purple, and Jocelyn’s a mottled grey, white and black. Rhaneys had been beside herself with excitement, it had been the first time he’d heard her laugh since Laena’s death.

He received congratulations from the King, sending happy tidings to his ‘favourite cousin’ though it was his wife’s writing, as when compared to the newly received invitation to Aegon and Helaena’s upcoming wedding, the script was identical.

Daemon and Rhaenyra also expressed their joy, though of course with Rhaenyra’s own happy news she was unable to travel and bring the children to greet their new aunt and uncle.

The insistence from Rhaenyra’s script of placing Jace, Luke and Joff, before Baela and Rhaena within the letter was unmissable, and it was a reminder of the new possibilities and new dangers posed at court.

Aethan Velaryon, by all rights, should be the next Lord of Driftmark. He was Rhaenyra’s sons’ biggest threat as a trueborn son of Corlys Velaryon.

As Corlys considered the letter as he sat beside his beloved wife as she marvelled over their new children, the memory of his promise to her echoed within his own ears.

Aethan Velaryon, by being born, became a threat to Rhaenyra, and the past experience had taught Corlys that she had no qualms about prematurely ending the life of a Velaryon heir so she could get what she wanted.

The game was afoot.

And Corlys would no longer play for ambition, this time he was playing for survival.

The old, the true and the brave, and mayhaps a little of his wife’s fire and blood and fury.

No one would harm his family again.

Chapter Text

Corlys watched his wife hum an old Valyrian lullaby to the twins. They were in her private gardens in a courtyard that was only accessible through the Lady’s solar, she had planned the gardens in her youth, dedicating particular flowers and foreign beauties that he brought back to her after each voyage, and she’d tell Laena and Laenor of each of his voyages through the gifts he’d brought back to her, the Yi Tiish Cherry Blossoms, or the Flame Lillies of Astapor and the Lemon Myrtle of Moraq.

Mayhaps she’d do the same for the twins. He was old, older than most fathers, easily old enough to be their grandfather, mayhaps even great grandfather, but they were perfect, and he looked forward to watching them grow.

Rhaenys was sat alongside the twins, they were growing steadily, now of an age where it was recommended to give them time to grow their own strength, laid on their stomachs or backs and teaching themselves to roll over and lift their little heads.

She looked at peace, his dear wife, her whole world revolving around the babes, there were times she’d wake at night from nightmares, the deaths of Laena and Laenor haunting them, and her fears for the twins was an ever heavy shadow despite the newfound joy. She was part paranoid, insisting the babes be moved from the nursery and now into the room next to hers, and she’d visit them at least once a night, just to check that they were still breathing - some nights he’d reach for her to feel her absence and go and gently guide her back to bed.

He did not know how to allay the fears. It was undeniable, the mess they found themselves in, one very much of his own making.

He would protect them though, these little children, gifts from the gods, the joys of his wife.

“Do you intend to name him your heir brother, or will you continue the madness and back Rhaenyra’s bastards?” Vaemond’s voice came from behind him, startling him out of his musings.

His brother had always hated Rhaenyra after her bastards were born. He had said she was stealing their inheritance, and Corlys had simply seen his own ambition within his brother and written off the resentment as folly - a way to push his own blood’s foothold of power.

It suddenly felt different, now that it was his own child that might miss out on their rights, in the place of the Strong boys.

Aethan should be his heir. It was the boy’s right, his heritage, his inheritance. With Laenor dead with no trueborn child, the heirship went to his younger brother, then through Laena's line to Baela, Rhaena and finally to Jocelyn.

It was theirs by right, even the girls. He’d made the same mistake as the old king Jaeherys, pushing for a male claim that carried his name, rather than the rightful daughters and granddaughters of his line.

He’d been so blinded by ambition, so foolish and proud and unable to see the dangers of his choices.

He should have listened to Rhaneys. She was always the more astute and learned one between them. She had been raised for Queenship after all. Foolish pride and ambition, he had forgotten the blessing he had claimed when she had married him.

He’d paid for it, or better said, his beloved son Laenor had paid for it.

“When he is older.” Corlys replied in turn, though he could tell his answer did not settle Vaemond.

“It is his right, he is your son Corlys, of Valeryon blood.” Vaemond hissed, though the disbelief in his voice demonstrated his surprise that he would be the one to defend Corlys’ own son’s rights, rather than Corlys doing so himself.

Corlys sighed and turned back to look at his wife and children, “He is a babe Vaemond. A small babe born to an elderly mother. Many babes do not survive their first year, and with his birth being so difficult, I will not tempt the gods and proclaim him my heir until it is certain he will survive.”

It would break Rhaenys if such an occurrence were to happen, losing a third so soon after the first two. He was ever glad that they were twins, whilst Aethan struggled at times, Jocelyn was happy, healthy and moved from strength to strength, gods forbid something happened to either of them, but Rhaenys would not succumb to grief if one babe survived, and he would not succumb to his own grief as long as Rhaenys was by his side.

He was not a man who prayed often, but ever since his return to see her around with child he had taken to prayer more and more often - let them live, let them be happy.

“And if he dies you will still have the false Velaryon’s.” Vaemond spat.

Corlys shook his head. He had seen the error of his ways, his ambitions had led to his eldest son’s death, and he would no longer support the woman who had been complicit in the murder.

“If he dies I will name Baela heir, as is her right as my eldest daughter’s eldest surviving child.” He had sent word back to her father regarding the possible wardship - that he would gladly take upon Baela’s education, and he looked forward to his granddaughter’s return. He had ground his teeth as he wrote it, a part of him wanting to sail to Dragonstone and wring Daemon's neck for killing his boy, for pissing on his daughter’s memory, the rogue prince was the King’s brother, and he had no proof of the murder, and the man was in fact his granddaughter's father, so he would continue to grit his teeth and pretend he did not with to drive his sword into the cunt’s face.

His reply seemed to have quieted Vaemond’s anger. The concession to changing the inheritance settled between them, “I have wronged you brother. I was blind, my ambitions, my desire to right the wrongs done to Rhaenys.” For that had been a part of his ambition, Rhaenys disappointment, the way the realm ignored its own history and traditions to place the eager to please and yet so very blind Viserys upon the throne in the place of the true heir.

He looked to his brother, wanting to show his sincerity, “I swear to you now, the care and betterment of our own House will now be all I care for. I have lost…I have lost far too much at the hands of the Targaryens.”

His words were an apology for the slights of the past, his willingness to abandon his brother’s council, to ignore Rhaneys’s council, Aethan may very well be in danger with his claim now against Lucerys, and Corlys was the reason for it. He was a fool, but he would learn to be better. The game was ever evolving, and with his ambitions aside, he could see the world under a new light.

He looked away, eyes glassy, unwilling to let his brother see his pain, such vulnerability was left for Rhaenys alone.

Vaemond, at his side, gently placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, “I would be glad to follow either of them brother. Our blood runs true, and it would be my honour to assist you in teaching them of our heritage.”

It felt like they were boys again, back when their father had died, and grandfather had sat them down and told them they were now the future of their house and they had to stand together and embrace the storm, or succumb to it.

Vaemond left him, and Corlys felt the rift between them was on its way to healing. He moved into Rhaenys’s garden, his joints old and tired as he sat on the ground next to her to look upon his son as the lad sucked on his own fingers and wiggled around.

He had thought this chapter long closed. Laena and Laenor had been born more than twenty years prior and Marilda…he should not think of her. It had been a mistake. Rhaenys had been away at court with Laenor, worrying over his ever more dangerous position as princess Rhaenyra’s consort, the rumours that emerged upon Jacaerys’s birth, with brown hair and Strong features, she had been wroth with him, rightly so, for putting Laenor in such a precarious position.

Marilda had been young, pretty and distracting.

When she had invited him to meet his new son Addam, he’d gotten blind drunk that night and found himself in her bed once more in the morning.

Rhaenys had returned by the time word of the second birth reached him, and he dare not risk her discovery with a visit, so he had waited for another of her trips to meet Alyn. Two boys, undeniably his own, both with his eyes, the eldest with his jaw and the younger with his nose.

He did not make the same mistake a third time.

Two bastard sons hidden in Hull, that Rhaenys could never know about. It would break her heart, and she’d likely feed him to Meleys.

Rhaenys deserved better, Aethan and Jocelyn deserved better. Laena and Laenor deserved better.

He’d have to send her off. Marilda was an adventurous woman, she’d be more than able to look after the boys in some far off place. He’d give her coin, plenty of it, the boys deserved that much. Somewhere where they would not be discovered. East likely, Braavos or Pentos were wonderful port cities that a shipwrights daughter could find plenty of work at.

Aethan gurgled and Corlys picked him up. He was so small, he had his mother’s eyes and nose, his father and grandfather’s brow and a birthmark on his belly that resembled Driftmark.

He was perfect.

Beside him, his wife leaned into his warmth, Jocelyn in her arms sleeping soundly, where Aethan was very much a mixture between them, Jocelyn was very much his daughter, her skin darker than any of their other children, curious eyes identical to his own, though he hoped she would grow to have her mother’s smile, just a Laena had done before her.

“Rhaenyra will not be pleased should you name Aethan your heir. It will place her boys in a more precarious position than they already are, and add fuel to the rumours of bastardy.” She spoke quiet and calm, but with the intelligence he had always associated with her.

He should have known she’d overheard his talk with Vaemond.

“It is Aethan’s right.” Corlys moved an arm around her knowing her concerns and wanting to support her. He knew she would not refute her claim, she’d been asking for Baela’s inheritance since Laena’s funeral, and Aethan came before Baela in the line of succession now.

“You swore they would be protected.” Rhaenys shrugs off his arm, her voice coloured by worry and resentment. He understood why, simply by being born Aethan’s life was in danger thanks to Rhaenyra’s bastard boys.

“And I will protect them, I will kill for them, die for them. I will not allow Rhaenyra to take another son from us, you know this to be true. Either way he is in danger, I would rather support his rights than not Rhaenys.” He would. He had sworn to her, and it was this oath he would not break. As she had said, these babes were a new beginning, and he would be damned to hell before he let the mistakes of his past interfere with his children’s future.

Rhaenys sighed and turned to him. “Then we had best gain new allies. The King will not appreciate his grandson’s disinheritance either.” She sounded tired, resigned, but in the same breathe determined.

He was ever glad she had chosen him all those years ago, he had no doubts that with her by his side they would find away to protect their children and ensure the legacy of house Velaryon.

---

Rhaenyra stretched her sore muscles as she walked along the beaches of Dragonstone. Her pregnancy was six months along and she longed for the babe to be out. She enjoy motherhood, her boys were the precious lights of her life, but pregnancy had always been a difficult, and uncomfortable chore.

Oh to be a man and to simply wait for the child to be placed in his arms without any labour beyond spilling his seed.

Daemon hoped for a son, with two girls he longed for a son to teach swordplay and battle tactics.

She hoped for a girl, after three boys she longed for a daughter who she could claim as her own. Baela and Rhaena were sweet, sad little things without their mother, and being with them reminded her of simpler times when she’d spend time with her own mother and she would be glad for a daughter of her own.

There were moments of awkwardness, growing pains as the girls settled on Dragonstone, it was clear every day that they missed their mother, the first few weeks of their arrival Rhanea had taken to crawling into Baela’s bed, and so she’d stopped visiting Rhaena’s room in the morning and moved immediately to Baela’s.

Rhaena would cry, sometimes without cause, and she kept to herself or her sister’s company, even on occasion shirking her father’s presence, still getting used to the fact he was remarried.

Baela was more like her father, stoic, haughty at times, and with a fierce spirit. When Moondancer was large enough to ride, Rhaenyra had no doubt she’d be an excellent rider. Baela’s stoicism broke only once, Rhaenyra had moved to help her do her hair but Baela had pushed her away, screaming that ‘You’ll never be my mother’, yelling that Rhaenyra should just ‘leave her alone’.

Losing a mother was difficult, Rhaneyra had never fully gotten over her mother’s death, and certainly not forgotten Alicent’s betrayal in marrying her father - but the girls would learn to move on. The pain would dull with time, the wound would scab over and scar, they’d be a proper family with time.

She hoped this babe would bring them all closer together.

And it if was a daughter, as she hoped it would be - she could betroth her to Joffrey. Baela and Rhaena could marry Jace and Luke, and a daughter could marry Joffrey in keeping with Targaryen tradition, and her sweet children would be like the dragonriders of old, flying around, going on adventures, seeing the world as she had longed to as a girl.

Baela would be headed to Driftmark after the child arrived - to live with her grandparents, it had been a peace offering - an offer of apology after seeing Rhaenys, normally the picture of poise, pride and strength crumble at her son’s funeral. A consolation in their loneliness, little did she know that twins were on the horizon for the Lord and Lady of Driftmark.

They had sent off the offer of wardship. Unexpected news came alongside the acceptance in return, they also received word of Rhaenys’ birthing of twins.

It was entirely unexpected.

Rhaenys was an old woman. Six and forty and she had given birth to twins - Rhaenyra had not thought it possible and yet no other news from their fellow Valyrian house, nothing to say it was a jape, or that the mother or babes had passed as such an activity at such a fragile age could not be beneficial to the health of either - and yet, Aethan Velaryon and Jocelyn Velaryon were reported to be happy, healthy babes, and their mother slowly recovering.

It was…disquieting.

Not that she wanted the princess or her children to pass - but it left questions remaining.

Laenor was Corlys’ first trueborn son, and according to the laws of inheritance, his sons should be in the line of succession before any brothers or sisters.

And yet…

They had been allies, she had shielded Laenor from the gossip of court, provided children he could claim so that the accusation of being a sword swallower would not burden him…but now Corlys had a second son.

One whose blood was Velaryon.

No new announcement had come from Driftmark, no claim of a change in heirship.

Corlys had always named Laenor his heir, he’d never named Luke after the funeral, he had stared stonily at his son’s sarcophagus and not entertained any company beyond his own wife.

Apparently he’d spent some time in his wife’s company, considering the twin’s arrival.

He had not named any heir.

Of course, previously there had not been any other clear heirs. Baela was a Targaryen, and Vaemond was only a brother - and if Baela and Rhaena married her sons, then any concerns would be put to rest as the children would be Velaryen in name and in blood, uniting the claims of Corlys’s grandchildren.

But a son…

They had heard nothing beyond their excitement to receive Baela, hoping fo Rhaena could join at least for a time, to greet her new aunt and uncle.

Jace, Luke and Joff had not been mentioned.

It wasn’t that Rhaenyra wanted to usurp the Velaryon seat, but her boy's fates rested in the balance. If whispers of their bastardy grew, they could be killed, and she would not let that happen, she’d burn the world to ash before her son’s were killed for something so foolish as who fathered them.

If Lucerys was not able to inherit Driftmark, it would be a black mark against her three eldest boys’ names, and others might seek to avoid betrothal or association with her three boys that were rumoured to be bastards.

It was ridiculous, Laenor had claimed them as his own, loved them as his own, seen them as his own.

But Laenor was not here. He could not appeal to his father or defend the boys’ rights and legitimacy, he was off somewhere in the east enjoying life free from the stresses of court and headaches of noble society.

If Corlys named her sons bastards…

There was only so much she could do against his accusation. Have her father take his tongue? Declare him a traitor to the Crown?

It would be in poor taste; they were her greatest allies - besides it would not look well for the appearance of her son's ties to the Velaryon family.

Rhaenys would not forgive her and a dragon rider, particularly of a dragon such as Meleys...

She could declare him mentally insane, falling into madness for his grief over his first two children’s deaths.

But either way she'd be cutting ties with her closest and most powerful allies and be far more vulnerable at court, her own claim to the throne would be weakened significantly, and her sweet boy's very lives would be put in significant danger.

It could not come to that.

The silence of Driftmark was a blessing and a curse. Once this babe was out, and she was healthy, she’d travel with Baela and Rhaena.

Hells, she’d push for Luke’s wardship on Driftmark too, so that he might prepare for his future. It would break her heart to be parted from her boy, but needs must, and he would not be far away. Part of her cursed herself for not thinking of it sooner, but the news of the Velaryon twins had blindsided everyone.

It was Luke’s right, his fate to become the Lord of Driftmark. He’d be a good Lord, he’d learn to move past his sea sickness, besides he had a dragon, he would not need to sail ever once Arrax was large enough to travel long distances.

She’d visit her goodparents, remind them of Luke’s goodness, his earnestness, his dedication.

She’d remind them of Laenor’s love for her boys.

She’d announce Baela and Rhaena’s betrothals - she would have preferred to wait until they were older as she had been before talks of marriage and alliances entered and took control of their lives, but things had changed.

Surely Corlys and Rhaenys would see the good in such a match. Baela would be Queen, and Rhaena would become the Lady of High Tide, their blood would be combined with her sons in truth, there was nothing they could complain about in truth.

Surely they’d see it was better that way? Safer.

Her boys deserved to be safe and supported, and while they may not be their grandparents by blood, they had watched her sons grow up so become good and kind and honourable.

Surely they would not seek to put them in harms way?

Rhaenyra rubbed her belly as she came to the end of the beach, the smell of sulphur and smoke in the air, she was at the foot of the dragonmont, and she could hear the scuffle of dragons within.

She wondered if Rhaenys had placed eggs in the twins’ cribs. If their dragonblood was strong. Mayhaps an alliance between the girl and Joffrey instead?

And if this one was a girl, she could marry Aethan to smooth over ruffled scales so to speak.

It would be risky, it would mean all four of her children would be marrying Velaryon blood and gave no other opportunity for other alliances.

But considering Corlys’ ambition, and the losses the Velaryon’s had already faced, it was likely that he would feel such an honour was owed to him, particularly as he had always supported her inspite of Laenor’s inability to sire children upon her. It was unfair to her, it had not been her fault that Laenor could not do his duty. In some ways they owed her for protecting him. They owed her for not announcing to the world Laenor’s inability which would have ruined his standing entirely and humiliated House Velaryon. Corlys must see that she had been wise in her compromise, she needed heirs and so had Laenor, what did it matter where they came from?

It was not ideal. Nothing about this situation was ideal.

Her sons lives hung in the balance, and she’d do everything to protect them.

The laughter from above made Rhaenyra look up. Jacaerys and Lucerys were flying above, Lucerys’ dragon had finally reached an age where it could carry his young rider on his back, Daemon had taken him on his first flight as Rhaenyra’s pregnancy had been too far along and she had not the heart to make him wait for her to take him though she wished to have been up in the air with him.

It had felt right, Daemon taking her boys, teaching them of their heritage as he has taught her.

Laenor had been there with her when Jacaerys first took flight, but his teaching methods had been different, his mother had a different method than her own and their lessons had confused Jacarys to the point where Rhaenyra had requested to be his sole teacher, and Laenor had as usual, had kindly acquiesced.

Sometimes she regretted that.

Sometimes she regretted that at times it had been her that had been the barrier between Laenor and her children. At times when she was angry she’d claim them solely as her own in arguments, saying her rights trumped his as they were of her own blood. When convincing him of the plan to fake his death she had told him harshly that he was not their father, and that she needed someone who could be. It had been spoken without thought, she needed him to understand that despite his oath that he would be better and support her and the boys with greater dedication - he was not the man she wanted to be by her side and she had said the first the first thing that came to mind that would convince him that he should leave. Daemon had said it was granting him a kindness, letting him be free from the suffocation of court and the cruelty of a society that would never let him be as he was, but pain on Laenor’s face, the betrayal that had flitted across his face, has she knew her words had cracked something in him that had already been damaged by Laena’s death. Mayhaps if his sister had been alive he would not have abided by her wishes so easily. The betrayal was followed by tired resignation, and as usual, he once more acquiesced reluctantly.

She regretted the pain, but not the cause. The babe in her belly was a new start, with a man who loved her, besides, Laenor was free to do as he pleased now, sometimes she envied him in that.

Sometimes she’d look for Laenor, or Harwin, and be disappointed when they were not there, particularly when one of her boys did something wonderful, or witty, or smart.

Daemon was there though, and she was content with that. He loved her, he’d always loved her, and he could be with her and support her as a husband should.

Laenor…he was a good man, but he should never have been her husband.

It should have always been Daemon.

Her boys swooped and flew, the grins on their faces made her smile in turn. Yes, she’d do everything to protect that, they were worth it.

Chapter Text

Jocelyn was sitting up. Rhaenys peered over the crib and saw her sweet girl sit up and smile at her with pink gums and drool, giggling as she played with the girl, hiding her face with her hands only to peek back out to her amusement.

Aethan sat next to his sister, staring, entirely unimpressed at her antics, more content to suck on his fingers as his first tooth emerged.

Sometimes she feared she was too old to be their mother, that she was doing them a disservice as she could not carry them for long periods as she had with Laena or Laenor. She grew tired so easily after the birth and her muscles ached far more than they had ever before the pregnancy.

They were worth it, just having them here, being with her sweet babes, it was enough to soothe the gaping chasm within her soul that had emerged upon the deaths of her first two children.

It had been over a year since Laenor’s funeral, as she had stood on the shores and farewelled her first child, and at the time she had believed him to be her last.

The anniversary of his death had been a month ago, and Rhaenys was not certain she would have survived it without her beloved Aethan and Jocelyn, they were the lights in an otherwise dark world, and she would steer towards them always.

News had come this very morning, Rhaenyra had birthed a son, named Aegon, mayhaps a petty slight to her half brother, mayhaps a claim to legitimacy to highlight her Targaryen roots, and this boys true legitimacy considering the rumours surrounding her three eldests’ Strong features.

Rhaenys no longer cared to the intrigues of court, she listened of course, to remain ignorant while her remaining children were in danger would be the height of foolishness, but she did not have the patience or interest in petty squabbles, particularly when it came to the girl that had killed her son.

Aegon and Helaena had married - she and Corlys had declined the invitation, content to watch over their twins, and Crolys would fuss over her health.

It was said to have been a glorious affair, with jousts and feasts and all the pageantry of a royal wedding, though the King had apparently been briefly confused, calling young Helaena by her sister’s name during his speech.

Her fool cousin.

That poor girl.

Particularly to be married to a lecherous drunk such as her brother Aegon.

She would likely be pregnant soon, barely out of her girlhood and expected to carry a child.

Poor, poor girl.

It was times like this when Rhaenys had to acknowledge the cruelty of the world against her own sex - it wasn’t just the difficulties a female claim of inheritance brought, or the expectation of subservience to their husbands. Girls became mothers long before they knew how to be.

Rhaenys had been lucky, her father had let her choose (within reason in his hopes she’d pick someone to strengthen her claim and Queenship).

And Corlys listened to her, he may not always follow her advice, but he’d listen and debate their goals.

He’d not pushed for more heirs…that had been her own heart's desire when the world had felt so bleak.

It was more than most women could have dreamed of.

She’d played her own part in the cruelty, when she’d asked Laena to marry Viserys…

Mayhaps if she hadn’t raised her sweet girl to seek a marriage such as that, with men old enough to be her father, with dragons and power and political clout beyond most men, then she’d never have run off with Daemon.

Rhaenys looked at Jocelyn and vowed to not allow such a fate for her last daughter. Laena had been stubborn, adventurous and enamoured by the charms of Daemon, and had run off with him, claiming to be in love.

Rhaenys hoped she had been happy, at least for a time. The her daughters would have soothed the hurts Rhaenys’ cousin Daemon had undoubtedly heaped upon Laena, but Rhaenys hoped she had spent the early days happy, in love and on the adventure she had always yearned for - before reality had set in and Daemon showed his true nature.

The letters she’d received at the time had been sparse in detail when it came to her relationship with Daemon, heaped with descriptions of foreign cities, great architectural wonders, strange cultures, foods and histories as she went to many places her own father had told her about.

The absence of her first daughter still pained her. Knowing her child was not out there in the world, knowing she was not just visiting some far off city or with her sweet girls. Yes, the world was truly cruel to women in particular.

Laena’s ghost seemed to make itself known every day, not in the grief stricken agony, but the absence of her light.

Jocelyn would have a kinder fate - Rhaenys would make certain of it.

WIth Rhaenyra’s birth of Aegon, it meant Baela would be coming to ward at Driftmark soon, it lightened her heart to think of her granddaughter, part of her dear Laena’s legacy, she’d teach the girl of her heritage, she’d show her Laena’s favourite hiding spots and gift for her to share with Rhaena some of the items left from Laena’s girlhood.

She wanted to protect the last pieces of Laena in the world, even if it meant playing nice with their father, she’ choke down the resentment, swallow the hatred, and hide behind the courtly mask she’d designed as a girl, in an effort to protect the broken remnants of her family.

She feared for her babes’ safety, Aethan in particular. He was the threat to Rhaenyra’s sons that none had expected, and Corlys was right, she’d rather fight for his rights, he was in danger either way.

She’d written to her cousin’s son Borros, it had been a long while since she’d contacted her mother’s kin. His reply had been distant but not unfriendly, though he did appreciate her naming her new daughter for a Baratheon, though he had never met Lady Jocelyn Baratheon, he was glad of her acknowledgment for her maternal heritage and invited her and Corlys to Storm's End once she had recovered from the birth, and would welcome a rekindling of familial ties.

His daughters were near Baela’s age, mayhaps they could even discuss a wardship for one of them, give Baela a friend on this island that was of age with her.

Either way it was a start.

The Baratheons had great strength and were well regarded at court, and they had likely not forgotten the slight of the Great Council either, and the loss of their own chance to see their blood on the Iron Throne through her.

Corlys had sent Vaemond to resolve the issues within the Stepstones. His brother seemed…rejuvenated by his niece and nephew's birth and the promise of Velaryon blood upon the seat of Driftmark. Rhaneys knew him, he was not unlike his older brother, ambitious, headstrong…there was likely more to come from him, though what he might ask of them remained to be seen. Vaemond had extracted a promise from Corlys, to organise the marriage of his eldest son, Daeron.

She did expect, should the marriage produce a daughter, he would push for a betrothal for Aethan.

Always politics, even at home.

Corlys had agreed with Vaemond, it was in part an apology between the brothers, and an acknowledgment of his nephew's rise to manhood. Daeron was past the age of a young man at four and twenty, nearer to a man ready to settle down with children rather than bury his cock into any young woman that crossed his path. She would have to wait and see what came of it.

The rest of her nephews had been ready and prepared to head out, resuming the trade routes and voyages, lending more power to their House.

In Corlys lifetime, house Velaryon had been raised from a house with middling power, its greatest strength the ties to the fellow Valyrian houses, but it had not been the behemoth it had come until Corlys. It had more gold than the Lannisters, more ships than the Redwynes, and through her own contribution, dragonpower.

And yet, it may not be enough.

There were other options too, gathering a base of power, there was no guarantees Targaryens would not wish to strike at them while they were vulnerable, Rhaneyra had everything to lose, Viserys was weak willed and biassed when it came to his eldest daughter and the Hightower faction had often set themselves against the interests of House Velaryon - Alicent’s Queenship was proof of that - no matter that hindsight made Rhaenys glad Laena never had to suffer the humiliation of having a son but his not being named heir, nor the disinterest of a husband such as Viserys…though Daemon had not been better - her poor girl deserved better than what she and Corlys had offered.

The house of her father was no longer the ally it should have been.

She thought of her father when she looked at Aethan, she had inherited her father’s eyes, and Aethan had inherited hers. There were times, briefly, when she’d think of the Dream her father had told her, the responsibility to unite the realm.

If Viserys had been told the same prophecy when he’d been named Jaeherys’ heir…how could he not see he was likely going to tear the realm apart upon his death? How his daughter was making enemies with half the realm, no longer called the Realm’s Delight, her marriage to Daemon, crippling, as his enemies now became Rhaenyra’s, and with Laenor’s death, there was little tying the Velaryons to the Targaryens.

Baela and Rhaena, and Rhaenyra’s lies.

It was a tightrope walk, what words became treason, what lies could be spoken, which lies could be forgiven.

Which theory could be believed? Laenor’s death…just a lover’s spat? Or puppeteered by his wife and her lover?

The unification of their own House was underway, but it remained to be seen how long it would last, or what this unification would ultimately cost.

The Baratheons were not unfriendly, but she did not know the new Lord well, he had been born not long after her marriage to Corlys, and she’d spent his youth raising her own children without much opportunity to be away from Driftmark or Court, she hadn’t visited her mother’s homeland in over twenty years. She hoped she could bond with her cousin, she did have affection for her mother’s House, the halls of Storms End certainly lived up to the legends of the Storm Kings, a visit would be a good opportunity and a breath away from court.

The Celtigars as a fellow Valyrian House might be empathetic, but they were also ambitious - there was no way of being certain which side they might align with.

Rhaneys did not wish it to come to bloodshed…but in some ways blood had been spilt already - her beloved Laenor the first victim and she would do everything in her power to ensure his younger brother and sister would not join him.

It was a delicate balancing act, Baela and Rhaena were within the rogue’s clutches and they had no recourse but Daemon’s death to regain their full guardianship.

The part of Rhaenys that loved her family did not wish to kill her cousin.

The part of her that suspected his hand to have been the puppeteer behind Laenor’s death wanted him dead and forgotten.

Endless politics, endless cloaks hiding daggers.

She was tired.

Truth be told, if she could be certain of her children’s safety, she’d ignore the machinations and politicking and just enjoy the quiet moments with her children and grandchildren in her old age.

This was the bed she’d made for herself when she first discovered her pregnancy and refused Moon Tea, ever glad as she was to have the twins, these were the consequences that came with birthing a rival claimant to a seat such as Driftmark.

Ridiculous, it should have always been her and Corlys’ blood seated after him, she knew Laenor would struggle with marriage, the death of his first paramour at his own wedding likely exacerbating the struggle, but Laena’s blood existed as well, her daughters could have been named heir immediately, or Laenor could have remained unmarried to clear up any uncertainty and ensure Laena’s line would be uncontested for truth because Corlys would not have made the same mistakes as her grandfather and ignored a granddaughter’s claim in favour of his brother..

But it was not to be.

And Aethan was the next rightful claimant now, though Rhaenyra would have to contest it to protect her boys from being declared bastards and protect herself from being accused of high treason - if there was a way to disinherit her children without a declaration of bastardy it could set the matter to a more peaceful end, but the options were weaker than the ease of such a declaration.

Rhaenys paused in her musings.

Disinheriting Laenor’s ‘line’ was a political nightmare, but disinheriting Rhaenyra’s line might be possible. Certainly they were viewed as the same thing but Rhaenyra was the parent that remained to them, and Viserys would see them as more Targaryen than Velaryon in truth.

There were slim and contestable reasons why one might disinherit a claimant. Of course there was her own disinheritance of her father’s rights as Jaeherys’ heir, but the Great Council had essentially killed any hope of truly contesting the old king’s actions despite law and custom having been in her favour.

A Lord or heir could voluntarily abdicate inheritance should they take oaths against holding lands such as the Night's Watch, the Kingsguard, Maester’s chains or as a woman of the Faith.

Rhaenyra would not allow her boys to do such a thing, they were her heirs afterall.

A Lord or heir could also be disinherited if they commit treason or broke the King’s laws (in an irrefutable, undefendable way) such as engage with the slave trade on Westerosi lands or raping the daughter of a High Lord - or mayhaps generally placing the King’s peace in peril - Lady Jeyne Arryn seemed to support such a stance, her cousin attempting to usurp her despite the fact that he would have been her heir and she was at yet without issue.

Whole wars had been waged over an insult in the past.

Rhaenyra and Daemon had married within the same week as Laenor's funeral, there were few greater insults that could have been paid to a proud house such as House Velaryon as the immediate marriage of the widow and widower of their children.

This there was no doubt of.

This was a grave insult paid to House Velaryon by two scion’s of House Targaryen, and mayhaps enough reason to disinherit Rhaenyra’s line from the succession.

It was weak and without much precedent, but if they could gain Rhaenyra’s likely reluctant cooperation, so that they did not name them bastards but still removed them from the succession…

And with Corlys own support which Viserys could hardly contest considering his own shaky decisions in the management of his own House…

It was as good an option as she could come up with.

No accusations of bastardy or high treason, and it wouldn’t entirely alienate them from Baela and Rhaena.

Inheritance was messy, particularly when there were multiple marriages, or the deaths of the first born sons, or the need for a long regency in place of a young heir.

Aethan may very well end up in such a position, Corlys was already considered an older man, many did not even make it to his age, of all of her father’s siblings, only Saera and Vaegon survived to a comparable age to Corlys, Jaeherys of course had lived even longer, and if Corlys could meet the same age, he’d see the twins to into adulthood, but if her father and aunts and uncles had taught her anything, it was that there was no guarantee for such things.

If Corlys were to die, it would be likely there would be a shared regency between herself and Vaemond…

And Vaemond was an ambitious man.

She’d need to talk about such a notion with Corlys, there would have to be protections, Vaemond was Velaryon by blood which did mean something when it came to such claims, but she would need to make certain with regard to marriage and betrothals, it would be her own discretion, not Vaemond’s.

It was not that she would be opposed to a match of Vaemond’s blood, he was by her measure a good man, but she suspected his decision to not insist both sons be married, leaving one open for Jocelyn’s hand despite twenty years between them, and Aethan’s health wasn’t perfect, not dire but not certain.

It would not be the first time an uncle used his age, and his gender to push his own claim in the stead of female claimants, and marriage between his own son or potential grandson with Jacelyn would only lend credence to his claim.

Mayhaps it was paranoia, seeing shadows and daggers hiding within the hands of her own kin, but what else was she to do? Rhaenyra and Daemon were also her own kin, and her son was dead.

Her remaining children would be protected from ambitious or callous spouses this time around, she’d make certain of it.

---

Corlys was once again reminded of his wife’s wisdom when she brought to him the possible disinheritance of Rhaenyra’s boys by way of citing their mother’s slight against his House.

If they wanted to keep Baela and Rhaena in their lives they’d need to keep Daemon vaguely within their sphere. It was like a hostage situation, and determining what moves were still possible without the fallout touching the girls.

He had no doubt Rhaenyra and Daemon would join Baela as she came to be their ward, while they were certainly short sighted in many ways, they were likely aware of the implications of Aethan’s birth and they’d want to twist his arm to keep Luke’s claim within their reach, afterall the Lord of the Tides was the most powerful man in the Narrow Sea.

Rhaenyra signing Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey’s abdication to rights to Driftmark in return for him not declaring them bastards would be the only bargain he’d accept. He was the Lord of High Tide, the man who had built his House’s prestige on his own back, a claim neither could make for themselves - if they wanted to recover any sort of allegiance with his House, they’d need to atone for their insults, the world did not revolve around Targaryen’s and their perceptions, it was time they learned that.

Sitting with her as they drafted up the documents only deepened his great fondness for his wife - King Jaeherys had clearly made the wrong choice, his wife was wise and astute, and this would be a small revenge against Daemon and Rhaenyra for the actions.

Part of him was bloodthirsty.

They killed his son.

They pissed on his daughter’s memory.

The only thing that stayed in his hand was Baela and Rhaena.

He’d find other ways, slowly undermining them for their actions, the was a debt to be paid for Laenor’s death, and he’d see it paid eventually.

Such things took time.

And his promise to Rhaenys would come first; Aethan and Jocelyn would come first every time, he would not lose another child to a Targaryen.

The drafted documents looked ironclad, they’d likely also need the King’s seal, but Viserys would have a difficult time denying the veracity if Rhaenyra had signed herself.

Aethan would have his rights protected, and his son would sit the Driftwood Throne - mayhaps not the son he’d imagined, but the son that had been gifted as an act of mercy by the gods.

Rhaenys left, she had preparations to make for Baela’s arrival, word came in that the entire blended family of Daemon and Rhaenyra would be visiting Driftmark and to see Baela off; “All five grandchildren look forward to seeing their beloved grandparents and meeting their new aunt and uncle.” the letter had said.

Rhaenys wanted to give Rhaena one of the remaining of Meleys’ eggs, three eggs had come from the last clutch and with two hatching she had hopes her granddaughter would finally claim a dragon from eggs that seemed more viable.

Wouldn’t that be something? Laenor had been the first Velaryon to ride a dragon, but if all of his line claimed dragons…Iron Throne or not, it would be a legacy.

Considering his line and his House, his thoughts moved to brides for his nephew Daeron. The Harte’s had a daughter of age to marry, they offered a less impressive bride price than most but she was said to be a pretty girl of demure temperament which would suit Daeron. The Celtigar’s second son had a daughter if Daeron was particular about having a Valyrian bride, though her mother and grandmother were both of Andal descent. If he wanted to look further afield, the Ruthermonts of the Vale were a minor House but currently had only daughters to inherit, they were asking for a large bride price, and even larger should he seek to make the Ruthermont name extinct instead of having Daeron’s line take his wife’s name.

To place a Velaryon cadet branch upon their lands would ensure the loyalty within his House…it was not as if house Velaryon wanted for gold.

Daeron had been with him during the Stepstones, been his squire, been a captain in his fleet, and been a loyal member of his House. Such a move as establishing a cadet branch would also honour Vaemond and his line.

He’d place the offers in front of Daeron soon, the lad should have some say in his fate and there was a great deal of work in establishing one’s own House, which may not be something Daeron wanted.

It would be to his benefit, ensuring Daeron’s loyalty and ensuring Aethan would have it in turn, it would be the height of dishonour to turn upon the man than raised your position so greatly. He knew there was discord within his House, the shenanigans caused by Rhaenyra’s bastards had not been to his benefit, they’d remained quiet, but he knew there had been love lost from his actions.

Rhaenys had highlighted her concerns for a possible regency for Aethan. She was right, he wanted to see the best in Vaemond, but they were so alike. Ambitious, proud and loyal to his children before his own brothers.
It would be expensive - greatly expensive, but it would demonstrate his new dedication to his House - words were wind after all - and it would pacify Vaemond and likely minimise manoeuvring that would take away from his children’s interests.

It was a balancing act.

Corlys sighed, documents, contracts, and betrothals - ruling responsibly was difficult, doubly so when he’d let disorder enter his House in service to his ambition.

If Rhaenys had not sent word of her pregnancy he would have been content to waste a few years, enough to ease the pain of grief, sailing, fighting and drinking his way through the Stepstones and his House would have fallen into further neglect.

Vaemond’s boys would have had to have settled for a less advantageous match. His trade contacts might have weakened and withered, haemorrhaging money and opportunities. Rhaenyra and Daemon would have gotten away with their callous actions with no repercussion, once more flaunting the rules they expected everyone else to play by. Otto Hightower would likely gain an ever surer foothold as it seemed no one was going to curb his base - he had to respect the man’s ambition and tenacity if nothing else. Had he remained away, his House, everything he'd worked for, may have fallen into disorder.

He was so very glad the twins were here.

A second chance, and one he would not squander.

Chapter Text

Rhaena shifted in the cool winds while the shores of Driftmark came into view. She was stood on the deck, near the front, a good opportunity for sightseeing, and also away from an already irritable dragon.

Transporting a dragon via ship was always a delicate task, it had taken father writing to her grandfather Lord Corlys to secure a ship for their return from Essos after mother had died, while Vhagar and Caraxes would follow commands and return to Westeros without much cajoling, Moondancer was young, inexperienced and too small to make the crossing, those final days in Pentos had been a blur, the all encompassing grief of losing her mother had made the world so very empty.

Baela had been stronger, she was the one that helped her dress in the morning, she’d go find her favourite foods so that Rhaena would eat, and when Rhaena had been scared that this would mean she’d be ignored and left alone forever, Baela promised she’d be there, together forever.

Now the decision was out of their hands. Baela was going to Driftmark, and Rhanea would go back to Dragonstone.

Some part of her maybe thought it was nice, mayhaps father was keeping her close by as an apology, they’d never been close, he loved Baela, she was the one who’s dragon hatched, she was the one who was confident and strong, she was the one he taught everything to. Rhaena was just the spare.

She knew he loved her, in his own way. It was different though, mother’s love had been like the ocean, endless, deep and capable of drowning you, father’s love was like fire, sometimes it would be bright and warm and strong, and other times it would be fickle, and weak, or uncontrolled and dangerous.

She liked the ocean more.

Father was…confusing. She knew he loved her in his own way, and she thinks he loved mother in his own way too, but his love for Rhaenyra was different, her fire met his and they might very well set the world aflame with it, and it made her angry.

Why did he love Rhaenyra more than mother?

Mother had been everything and now he just forgot her.

A small part that she knew she shouldn’t listen to, hated him. She hated how he’d changed everything she’d ever known, moved them to a place that wasn’t home, with a family that she did not know, and he was happier than he’d ever been before, ignoring the fact that she was just so…so…

There weren't any words. If there were then Rhanea did not know them.

It wasn’t that she was entirely miserable.

It wasn’t that she hated her cousins, Jacaerys. Lucerys and Joffrey were nice enough, they played games and included her if she wanted, though sometimes it stung because she was the only one on the island that didn’t have a dragon - they had tried to tease her about it in the beginning, but quieted quickly after Baela had punched Jacaerys square in the jaw (He ended up telling his mother that he’d fallen over on the beach).

And Rhaenyra wasn’t awful…she just wasn’t mother. She’d never be mother. She tried to be nice, she’d make sure they had lovely dresses, and dolls and whatever else caught her or Baela’s fancy. She saw to their education, some places they had been ahead whilst others had fallen to the wayside. She kept trying to spend time with them, inviting them on day trips, insisting they whole family eat together, it was like she was trying to force a new sense of normal on everyone, and while she managed to cajole her sons with relative ease, it was different for them, they still had a mother, they had lived in Westeros their whole lives, and while uncle Laenor had died, it seemed rather clear that they weren’t half as close to their father as Baela and Rhaena had been to their mother, and the parent that remained to them wasn’t Daemon Targaryen, the man who loved like fire, flickering and capable or burning.

It was all so unfair.

Father did sometimes try, when he wasn’t busy with Rhaenyra or her sons, or the dragons, or reading through Dragonstone’s library, bringing books for Baela to read because she was to be a dragonrider and Rhaena was just…just Rhaena.

Sometimes he’d listen when she played her harp, or he’d help with her dancing lessons because Luke was difficult to partner with as he was shorter than her, or he’d bring her shells from the beach because he knew she had collected them with mother - He didn’t understand it wasn’t the shells she liked, but spending time with her mother, but it was his way of trying, she knew that.

Since Aegon’s birth, he’d been distant again. While Baela had always been his favourite, as his first born, and a dragonrider, Aegon had become his pride and joy. His first son, his first child with the woman he clearly preferred.

He’d loved Aegon from the moment he drew breath, even before his dragon hatched.

It had stung. Not just the pull back, but the fact that it was clear, father loved Aegon so much and Rhanea felt like she’d never even had her father’s full attention.

Baela had noticed it too, her relationship with father had been damaged by mother’s death because of his quick marriage to Rhaenyra. It had been on its way to mending slowly but then when Aegon was born, it seemed like Baela felt like she was being replaced and Aegon was becoming his new favourite.

She saw it was hard for Baela, and she did her best to show that she’d always like Baela best, because they were sisters, they were mother’s daughters, and they were forged by the many of the same experiences and losses - but she wasn’t always enough, and where it had been Baela that had been strong in the aftermath of mother’s death, it was now Rhaena who had been her sister’s comfort as their father moved on from Baela, to Rhaenyra, to Aegon, Rhanea knew what it was to be left behind, so she did what she could to comfort her sister.

She loved Aegon, he was her little brother, and a sweet babe, easy to love, but he wasn’t mother’s son, and part of her feared that this fact would remain an unspoken barrier between them.

It was over a year now, since mother was gone. The year had changed everything, the only constant was Baela, and now Baela was leaving too.

Her father said she shouldn’t be so sad, once Moondancer was big enough, Baela could visit as much as she wanted, and she had a new little brother, and the company of her cousins.

Moondancer grew slowly though, slower than most other dragons from what Rhaena understood, so it would be years yet before Moondancer was big enough to carry Baela between the islands.

Her brother was a babe, not the same as a grown sister who had experienced much the same losses and changes.

Her cousins were nice, but they weren’t Baela. Besides, they were boys, and sometimes there were just things boys didn’t understand, father said when it came to such things she should go to Rhaenyra, but the part of her that was angry about how her father loved Rhaenyra more than mother, didn’t want to rely upon her. She wasn’t and would never be mother.

As Driftmark came into view, Rhaena felt tears well up and she quietly cursed herself. She had promised she wouldn’t cry about this again. Baela was already nervous, leaving the comfort of the home they had had for a year and starting all over again.

It was hard then the world just kept changing, the rules and the expectations, the comforts and the familiar kept being torn away.

It was no question that their grandparents loved them, grandmother had held them at their mother’s funeral, tucked them in at night when they’d been on Driftmark, kissed their foreheads just the same as mother had done and grandfather had gifted them a portrait he had commissioned years ago, though he might have wanted to keep it for himself, he had gently guided them to see it, so that they might never forget their mother. There was no question that their grandparents loved them, but it was still new, and different, and this time Baela would be facing it on her own, no matter how much Rhaena wished to be at her side.

Their grandparents had written, whilst they’d been in Pentos. Grandmother had taken her dragon Meleys and visited, at the least on their name days each year, the crossing of the Narrow Sea on dragonback likely uncomfortable, but she did it each year without fail spending a few weeks there, and on mother’s name day grandfather would try to, he’d lift them up in the air, and take them sailing on his ships and tell them stories of far off places.

They’d written during this past year as well, though they had not mentioned grandmother’s pregnancy, she had said she did not wish to share the news and risk the disappointment should the babe not be born alive.

She wasn’t disappointed, but she felt rather odd about the whole situation.

They had a new aunt and uncle, younger than them. It was strange, almost humorous to think about calling a little babe aunt or uncle - besides she’d only ever known uncles, her father’s brother the king, or her mother’s brother Laenor, but she had an infant aunt named Jocelyn, named for her great-grandmother.

She was glad for her grandmother and grandfather, uncle Laenor’s funeral had been a haze and they’d left so soon after and she’d forgotten the grief on their faces. It was selfish to think how she’d forgotten how uncle Laenor’s death had affected others, because the announcement of father and Rhaenyra’s marriage had felt like the world had caved in - she forgot that her grandparents had lost two children, uncle Laenor and her beloved mother.

But in other ways, selfish ways, she was scared that the new babes meant everyone would forget her and Baela. Father had a new wife now, and Aegon, the son he’d always wanted. Grandmother and grandfather had Aethan and Jocelyn now. Pretty pictures, proper families, places where she wasn’t certain her and Baela truly fit in anywhere anymore and that meant she and her sister would be forgotten, just like mother.

Father sometimes got frustrated with her, when she’d try to speak of mother to him, he said she was in the past, and that they must look to the future, lest they remain trapped, stagnant, grounded, instead of flying as Targaryen’s were meant to.

He forgot she couldn't fly.

Besides she refused to forget her mother.

What if grandmother and grandfather forgot mother? What if Baela going away to Driftmark would mean she forgot Rhaena?

What if she was to be alone.

No dragon. No father. No grandparents.

No Baela.

No mother.

Just Rhaena.

Alone.

She felt a warm hand curl into her own.

Baela. Her sister was there, and as if reading her thoughts, she pulled Rhaena to her side as they watched the shore grow larger, and the calls of the crewmen bustled around them.

After mother’s death the only home she could claim was with Baela - she was home.

And now her home was leaving her behind.

---

Rhaenys’ heart soared when the girls walked into the hall, they looked so much like their mother, it was almost like seeing Laena again, if it wasn’t for the red and black of their cloaks, she could have almost imagined that it was Laena.

There were other differences of course, but their mannerisms, the tilt of Rhaena’s head, the curious look in Baela’s eye, and the way they walked hand in hand - it could have been Laena and Laenor, two people so suited to being in each other’s company.

The boys followed with them, Jacerys had the start of a growth spurt, and Lucerys had lost some of the childish roundness to his face. Seeing them, she felt in part sad for them, whilst the documents she hoped would ensure Aethan’s ascension and safety were of vital importance, she knew it would likely stir more rumours of their origins - hate their parents Rhaenys might - but the boys had no fault in where they came from. She had watched them grow up, it would be difficult not to feel some sort of affection for them - but their origins had always soured Rhaenys’ view of them - particularly the flagrancy for which Rhaenyra ignored the rules for which everyone else were beholden to.

She had been her father’s heir, she had been in the same position as Rhaenyra at one point in her life - she knew the requirements, the judgments of the world upon a female claimant - so for better or worse, she knew she could not misstep, utter perfection had to be her goal, and even then it had not been enough.

She’d married a powerful house, ensured the match was politically amicable, honouring her heritage and her position, had children, a son in particular to bolster her claim - it had not been enough.

Perhaps she was bitter. In some ways she felt entitled to the bitterness. Viserys had become King, because he was born a man, and yet he ignored that fact in favour of elevating his undutiful daughter - not that it seemed his eldest son way any more dutiful - but still, there was an unfairness to it that had always made Rhaneys distant from Rhaenyra’s boys, though they had too been the sons of Laenor’s heart.

She hoped her boy had found peace amongst the dead, at court he’d always been flighty, unsettled and uncomfortable. She hated that he was dead, but if there was an afterlife, if the gods had placed him into the heavens, then she hoped there he might have found the peace that had evaded him in life.

Peace would not come for her for many years yet, she had a mother’s worries, not only for her twins, but for Baela and Rhaena, she would champion her daughter’s daughters for she so dearly loved them and to honour Laena’s memory.

Laenor…she wondered how he would feel upon discovery of their plan to disinherit Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey. Would he be pleased that his father’s seat would go to his trueborn brother? Would he still wish it to go to the sons of his heart? Would he have disowned the boys as punishment, knowing Rhaneyra would kill him?

Would Laenor be angry as Rhaenys and Corlys for having a second son so late - a son that would have saved him from the frustrations of the duty to marry and have children as such a clear solution arrived earlier?

She could not allow another child of hers to die at the hands of Baelon’s line. She had already lost so much to his line, her rights as her father’s heir, her eldest son and eldest daughter, her legacy tarnished to uplift a once beloved uncle’s line.

But her children came first. They were her legacy.

Laena’s children came first. They were her daughter’s legacy.

Laenor may have claimed them, but they were not his legacy - they were Rhaenyra’s - and she’d killed any chance of Laenor’s legacy when she conspired against him.

Besides, no matter what Rhaenyra thought, blood mattered. Affection was all well and good, but blood mattered. Blood tied alliances together, this had always been the function of marriage, to was a pact writ in blood, and while Rhaenys knew it had not been solely Rhaenyra’s fault for the failure of the contract struck, it was easier to blame the woman that remained, when her son did not.

Besides, the contract had not been solely for children, it had also come with the expectation that her son would be the Queen’s consort - a position stolen by Daemon with such little regard for House Velaryon.

Yes, she felt sympathy for the boys’ plight, but their mother brought the storm upon herself.

Rhaneyra and Daemon came after the children, a picture of unification and contentedness, hand in hand they stepped. On Rhaenyra’s hip she carried the brown haired toddler that could only be Joffrey, and Daemon carried a small bundle that must be Aegon.

Rhaenys masked her fury at the sight, a happy united couple with their new son, forgetting that it had been her children’s death that had been necessary for their happiness.

Corlys stood beside her, the minute tightening of the muscles around his mouth indicating his own annoyance as the Crown princess and her new consort walked in, seemingly without any sense of humility or regret, as if Laenor and Laena had meant nothing.

Corlys greeted them, offering the customary bread and salt, a protection she and Corlys would honour, though knowing that Rhaenyra and Daemon may not be of the same mind.

Laenor had been killed in this very hall after all.

A plot that had likely been born from Daemon’s mind, and seeing how in step they were with each other, Rhaenyra would have cosigned such measures.

For their happy marriage.

As if their happiness was more important than Laenor’s life. More important than a mother’s son, more important than a Lord’s heir and more important than the great history of allegiance between their houses.

Rhaenys was warmed as her sweet granddaughter's arms came around her, they were getting taller, growing as children tended to do. Jacerys was more stiff in his greeting, the walls she had always placed around her heart when it came to the brown haired boys had never given much opportunity for physical affection to blossom, though Corlys was relatively more fond of the boys than she - men did not keep much affection with each other, so the greeting between Corlys and Rhaneyra’s heir was respectable but stern.

Lucerys did move for an embrace, he had always been the more physically inclined of the boys, and she had not the heart to deny him, she patted him awkwardly on the head, and moved away when his arms loosened.

Her own arms moved back to Laena’s girls, Rhaenyra and Daemon’s eyes tracking her actions, a small frown marring Rhaenyra’s face.

Corlys and Daemon spoke briefly of the Stepstones, the pirates that had taken over in recent months - the likelihood of Volantine funding adding to the bloodbath, the possibility of a Dornish attempt on the islands while they were vulnerable.

It was clear to all adults within the room that such talk was a mere preface - Daemon and Rhaenyra likely wanted information as to their political future allegiances, and Corlys and Rhaenys were glad to maintain a show of influence and indifference on the conversation.

The flash of irritability in Daemon’s manners - the measured words Rhaenyra used - it was clear they sensed the precariousness of their position. Were they truly so naive to think there would not be a fallout for their own actions? Or was it overconfidence in their own power and influence - certainly they had always held the King’s favour, but a King could not rule without the support of his vassals - she’d noted long ago Rhaneyra’s political blinders, but it was baffling after so many years at Court, as a player within the game - Did she truly still think herself the exception to consequences?

Supposing her cousin Viserys’ indulgence, and Daemon’s repeated ‘exiles’ which were never enforced…they likely had little reason to expect anything barr support and indolence from the King.

But the King was however aware that an insult to House Velaryon was a fools act. It was the reason Viserys had come personally to request the marriage alliance for Laenor and Rhaenyra in the first place, and the reason why certain allowances were made regarding the naming of heirs and rights expected - only a House of great power and influence could hope to beggar a King and give such an equitable pact - and then the pact had been tarnished.

It was time her cousin and his wife acknowledged that Targaryen’s were not the sole power of the world, and their actions had wrought an injury so deep the allegiance may never heal.

While the Velaryons may yet be vulnerable, they were hardly powerless or firendless, and there were options for strong allegiances outside of the Targaryens of Dragonstone.

She already looked forward to her visit with Borros - he promised a hunt (though if he was anything like his father he had no issue coming up with reasons for such things). The trip was expected to occur in two months time, enough time for Baela to be settled properly, and they could let her see some of the world on the trip.

Corlys’ nephew had agreed readily to the possibility of establishing a cadet branch in a marriage to the Ruthermonts, the settling of bridal prices, dowries, and expectations produced within the allegiance had been a flurry of letters sent off, the dowager Lady of the house having come for the finality of the discussion had been the week prior. The Ruthermont’s not altogether pleased that their name would become extinct, but were satisfied by the large sum that would enter their coffers, and pacified by an agreement that a distant cousin who still held the Ruthermont name, would be granted rights as a landed knight, a portion of the money would go to building a small keep within the land for him, and his marriage to Daeron’s bride’s sister would ensure the name, whilst diminished in power, would survive - and the Velaryon name would double.

Surprisingly, small whispers from the Ruthermonts, into the ears of the Royces had also seemed to make headway into a possible allegiance. The current Lord having not forgotten his cousin’s death, nor the rumours surrounding it. The rumours surrounding Laenor’s death only gave the whispers greater weight - there was not one part of Rhaenys that did not think Daemon was incapable of such action. He had hated her from the first, and it was these thoughts that kept her up at night when her thoughts turned to her dear Laena.

Baratheons, Royces, Velaryons - it would not topple a dynasty, but they would be an impressive block of power should they need to use it - and she and Corlys had only just begun their work.

When Baela requested to meet the newest twins in the family Rhaenys agreed readily, her eyes drifted to Corlys who inclined his head - he would hold off conversation until she returned to him, but they had always agreed that the children would not be in earshot when the discussion over inheritance took place.

Rhaenyra and Daemon handed of their babes to some accompanying maids, and Corlys motioned towards his solar.

Rhaneys turned down the other hallway, she had a gaggle of children following her to the new nursery - having been moved closer the Lady’s rooms as she wanted to be near her babes.

The room was bright, with colourful tapestries and intricate carpets and room enough for the children to enter without it feeling crowded.

Her babes were awake, the wetnurse seemed to have been finishing correcting her clothes and bobbed a courtesy at Rhaenys’ arrival.

Aethan sat, smiling as he saw her - her babes seemed to finally become old enough to recognise his old mama - he wiggled his little arms and babbled nonsense. Jocelyn similarly recognising Rhaenys, though her eyes more cautious and the sight of strangers, her girl stared at them all dubiously, though the caution was undercut by the sight of drool over her front.

Rhaenys and Baela cooed at their new aunt and uncle, Rhaenys’ heart could have burst at the sight of her sweet nieces leaning over the cribs to greet them.

Laena should have been with them.

As should Laenor.

The boys were just as eager to greet the twins, Jacaerys amusing everyone when he bowed lowly to the drooling babes in a excessive manner, and played up an injured when Jocelyn swatted his hand away, Lucerys laughing at his older brother’s antics the whole time.

She felt sorry for them - it was not their fault their mother was as she was, nor that Daemon could be as cruel as he became.

Children so often faced the consequences of their parents actions or inactions - her Laena and Laenor had suffered terribly and died because of the choices Corlys and she had made…they had learned, she hoped enough, it had to be, she could not lose another child, would happily pay for her own sins and not see the blow back onto her children and grandchildren.

Joffrey and Aegon were placed in cribs alongside her twins, there was a guard on the door, Rhaneys had made certain of it, no one would hurt her babes, certainly not Daemon and Rhaenyra.

Rhaenys made allowances, informing the children of the areas they should keep within for the time being, announcing she and their parents needed to finalise certain discussions but if they needed and adult they could seek out the trusted knights or servants to come fetch the adults.

Rhaenys set off to return to her husband’s side, though before she could leave, little Rhaena spoke up, “Grandmother.” She paused in the doorway to look back at the girl who had been named in her honour. “Can I…May I speak with you a moment?”

Baela looked over to her sister questioningly, stance half protective and posture already shifted to face her sister.

Rhaenys was not expecting the request, but perhaps in her indulgent old age, she would deny her granddaughters nothing, certainly not a private talk. She trusted Corlys would handle matters if her time with Rhaena took too long. She nodded gladly, offering for Rhaena to take her hand, and they could walk and talk somewhere more private.

Rhaena gave half a grin to her sister as she anxiously walked to take Rhaenys’ proffered hand.

Her granddaughter shifted nervously, the hand within hers was gentle but her other plucked agitated at the red trim of her cloak.

“I…I don’t want Baela to stay.” Rhaena looked down at the ground, her voice cracking in the final word. “I don’t want to be alone, and if she stays here…I know it's selfish but-”

Rhaenys’ heart cracked as her granddaughter let out a sob, she knelt to Rhaena’s height and pulled her into a tight hug, running her hand down Rhaena’s hair in what she hoped was a comforting gesture.

“Shh sweet girl - oh my dear.” Rhaenys almost lost her balance as Rhaena slumped into her hold, she held her granddaughter close whispering words of comfort until the crying subsided.

Rhanea pulled back, though she looked embarrassed by her outburst as she mumbled an apology to the ground.

“Now, my dear, I believe we were discussing Baela’s stay, and how you don’t want to be parted from her.” Rhaenys fingers gently traces the tear trails, drying the tracks gently.

Rhaena nodded, “I just…she’s the only thing that's normal, everything else has changed since mother died and we left Pentos and father just wants to forget mother and sometimes he ignores me anyway and Rhaenyra wants to replace mother and Baela is all I’ve got left and..well…we’re sisters.”

Without the garbled explanation - that final line was really all that needed to be said. They were sisters, they should be together.

Rhaenys did not wish for them to return to Dragonstone, to be parted from her granddaughters once more, to not know whether Laena’s daughters were safe, or happy - it was torture.

So that left a single option. They should both stay here, on Driftmark.

It was not the most feasible desire. She had no doubt their decision to name Aethan heir to Driftmark over Lucerys would already sour Rhaenyra and Daemon’s attitude towards them, but to take charge of both girls…Daemon would likely be wroth.

Rhaenys felt a headache bloom behind her eyes, but she could see the fears that had weighed heavy on Rhaena and she would do whatever it took to allay them.

“I’ll have a talk with your father and we’ll find a way for you to stay together.” She smoothed out a loose curl, trying to be the calm that Rhaena clearly needed.”Now, I had been planning on telling everyone later, but now might be a better chance, shall we go pick one of Meleys’ eggs for you sweetling?”

Rhanea’s eyes lit up with excitement, and practically tugged on her arm in anticipation. “You’re really giving me another egg? Do you think this one will hatch?”

“We can never know for certain, but we can always be hopeful. If not a hatchling, we could try for an older dragon. Your…your uncle’s dragon nests on the east side of the island, and I am certain he would be glad for his niece to be Seasmokes rider in his place.” Rhaenys’ stumbled over the thought of another rider for Seasmoke. She was never meant to know Seasmoke’s second, or third, or fourth riders - Laenor was meant to outlive her.

Rhaena’s nose scrunched, “Father says I’m not allowed to claim Seasmoke. He says I should keep trying for a hatchling or wait till I’m older and claim one of his grandparent’s dragons because they’re much larger.”

Rhaenys resisted the urge to deride such a remark, Seasmoke was a perfectly reasonable size and age for a girl like Rhaena, larger dragons were more difficult to claim, more dangerous, and from her own observation, needed a rider of even temperament and strong discipline. Seasmoke was the youngest of the ridable dragons and likely the most malleable for a new rider, and Laenor and Rhaena had similar temperaments, the match would be fitting, no matter Daemon’s desire for a more prestigious match - likely to stroke his pride.

Dragons were not a matter for ego stroking, they were dangerous and temperamental beasts that should not be picked on a whim or to please a parent.

She guided Rhaena to the room housing the remaining eggs, braziers with coal and embers made the room uncomfortable and hot for the servants tending the eggs, but it felt like home for Rhaenys.

Rhaena looked hesitant as she looked over the eggs, uncertain which one to choose, and likely scared a second egg would not hatch.

“There’s no wrong choice Rhaena, you will have a dragon one day, whether you are like Baela and it hatches, or like your mother and you claim a dragon.”

The mention of her mother seemed to soothe out any worries as Rhaena made her pick. She reached for an egg as black as dragonglass and cradled it in her arms. Rhaenys placed her own hand on top of Rhaena’s she could feel the warmth coming from below the shell, just as she had felt for Aethan and Jocelyn’s eggs.

“I wish mother were here.” Rhaena bit her lip and looked away as her eyes watered with unshed tears, “Sorry I…I don’t mean to be such a crybaby.”

“No sweet girl, its alright to cry about missing your mother. I miss your mother every day.” Rhaenys felt her knees crack as she knelt down once more to be on Rhanea’s eye line, lifting the girl's chin, she should not be ashamed of such feelings.

“But, father says there's no point in crying over what has happened. Tears change nothing, they just make you sick…sometimes it feels like I’m the only one that still misses her.” Rhaena’s lip wobbled and she spoke, as she tried to reign in her warring emotions.

Rhaenys for her part felt rage. How dare he! How dare he diminish such feelings of grief for Laena, it was a daughters right to grieve her mother, no matter how inconvenient or uncomfortable it felt for her father.

“I miss your mother, your grandfather misses your mother and Baela undoubtedly misses your mother. Sometimes it hurts to breathe with how much I miss her. I see her in my dreams, I hear her with the rush of the ocean, I feel her hand in mine when I feel most alone. Never think it is wrong to miss Laena sweet girl, it is the most natural thing in the world to miss a most beloved parent, and Laena was the best.” She felt tears fall down her own cheeks, and while normally she would keep a more refined expression, it seemed Rhaena needed someone to cry with, instead of crying alone.

So Rhaneys cried.

Rhaena gave a watery smile, “She really was the best.”

Rhaena gave a quiet sniff, and with her hands holding the dragon egg, once more Rhaneys wiped her tears away.

Once it seemed they were both somewhat presentable, Rhaenys stood, her knees once more making their discomfort known.

“Why don’t you go and show the other children, your sister will no doubt be excited for you.” Rhaena gave her a dazzling smile, jittery with excitement as she carefully walked out of the room holding the egg with reverence.

She hoped the gods would see this egg hatch, Rhanea had so many disappointments in her short life, she hoped a hatchling might - for lack of a better term - bring Rhaena out of her own shell.

She wished Laena was here to see her girl’s excitement, Rhaenys could almost spy her daughter’s ghost walking alongside the girl as they trailed the halls that had been built by Corlys hard work.

Sighing to herself, she moved towards Corlys’ solar knowing she’d be later than expected, though clearly the talk with Rhaena was sorely needed.

She entered the room, a sharp and unmistakable tense silence greeted her, Rhaenyra was sat, chin jutted forward in annoyance as she read through the documents that she had Corlys had prepared, Daemon standing over her shoulder, doing his best to give and imposing figure or power and control that would almost make her laugh considered she still remembered when he’d ran around naked as the day he’d been born around the godswood of the Red Keep.

Dangerous as he could be, even Daemon was not foolish to attack a Lord in his own home with guards within metres of the door. They’d learned from Laenor’s death, a guard was in shouting distance at all times, particularly around the ruling family and the moment Aethan and Jocelyn became mobile, they’d have a sworn sword to protect them.

Likely the same for Baela and Rhaena, her grandaughters clearly needed to stay here and she’d be damned before she let harm befall them.

Rhaenys moved to Corlys’ side, his brows furrowed slightly, her long experience of reading him told her of his concern, her time with Rhaena had not been part of the plan, and he could likely read her well enough to know she herself had been crying.

“Rhaena, had expressed interest in staying with Baela, I see no reason why we should not accommodate both the girls.” She felt Corlys squeeze her waist in acknowledgment, she knew he’d back her on this, though he’d almost likely almost complain about being outnumbered by women later on.

“That is out of the question. You won’t take my daughters from me, you’ve already asked for too much.” Daemon’s eyes were dark, looking entirely offended by the situation.

Corlys scoffed, “It is hardly too much when determining the future of my own House.”

Daemon bristled, “Your house this may be, but these are my daughters. I was generous to offer Baela’s wardship, with your insult, I have half a mind to take it back.”

“And add another insult by House Targaryen against House Velaryon?” Rhaenys interrupted her cousin, not wanting to hear his claims of generosity after what they’d done to her son.

Daemon’s mouth twitched, she could see him physically attempt to keep his temper, “You said it yourself, they wish to stay together, they can do so on Dragonstone.”

“You offered a warship to strengthen ties between our houses, to take it back would suggest you are no longer of the same mind.” Rhaenys sidestepped his claim, if Rhaena’s emotional state was indicative of her father’s care, there was no way she could allow him to keep the girls, he was clearly failing them.

“Lucerys could stay as a ward.” Rhaenyra offered quietly, her hand moving to calm Daemon as his body grew as tight as a bow string.

Corly shook his head, “I would not wish for any misunderstandings as to Aethan’s standing. It would be cruel for the boy to stay now that he will only claim his mother’s inheritance.”

She could see Rhaenyra bowing at his words, though Daemon still appeared rebellious, “They are my daughters, they belong with me.”

Rhaenys bristled as she recalled Rhaena’s words, “Rhaena says she feels alone, surely you see isolating her from her sister would be wrong.”

Daemon raised his chin unflinchingly, but she could still read her cousin, the pain of regret burying itself behind his prideful facade, “She wishes to be alone, shirks everyone’s company. She is becoming a woman, it is not my place to hover over every step, she would always be welcome if she so chose to join us.”

“Then you will agree that she can make her own decisions about whose company she keeps. She wishes to stay with Baela, and you have already agreed to Baela’s wardship here, anything less would be an insult.” Rhaenys replied, she could see the war within him, his hurt pride and his frustration at being strong armed into agreeing. She could also see his protectiveness, his desire to protect the girls, a small consolation to know desire her many misgiving about Daemon, at least his redeeming quality was a love for his children.

All he would need was a little push, maybe a compromise from her and Corlys would see his agreement.

“It makes the most sense, cousin. Baela and Rhaena would be together, and as a dragonrider a trip between Dragonstone and Driftmark is less than half a morning. You could visit them often, I would not keep the girls from their father.” She would just make certain he was nowhere near her own children and they did not have the same protection of being Daemon's children.

Daemon’s lip was still twitching in annoyance as he stared them down. “I want free access between the islands.”

“Out of the question. It would undermine the function of warding and suggest you think us incapable of educating girls.” Corlys answered quickly, wisely bringing up the lack of faith currently between their Houses, “Once a week, and however many letters as the girls wish to write.”

Daemon gritted his teeth, “I will be the one to take Baela on her first flight.” He demanded as he looked at Rhaenys.

She nodded, allowing him such a right, the comment also giving her opportunity to soothe over Daemon’s prickly feelings, “And Rhaena as well, should the egg I just gifted her hatch.”

The tension in Daemon’s shoulders did loosen at her words. “I hope it does. She’ll be a great dragonrider.” He gave her a begrudging nod, though clearly unhappy with the outcomes of the day.

“Let us leave discussion here. I’m sure the children have missed us.” Rhaenys’ hand moved to hold Corlys, squeezing tightly in excitement as it seemed they negotiations had gone relatively well.

Rhaenyra moved, following Daemon who practically stalked out of the room.

“The abdications have been signed?” She moved to look at the long parchments that had been painstakingly worried over, Rhaenyra’s signature indeed appeared upon them.

“She was unhappy, but would not risk a public declaration of bastardy directly from me. She still worries for the boys and how people will perceive them. I have agreed to their keeping the Velaryon name, and I have agreed to claim them as my grandsons in public.” Corlys sounded tired but pleased by the outcome. He turned to her, “All that is needed now is the King’s signature, and there will be no doubt for who my heir shall be.”

And with Rhaenyra’s abdication of rights to Driftmark on behalf of her sons, there would be less reason for Aethan to be threatened by Rhaenyra and Daemon, as even Aethan’s death would not take back an abdication of rights, and the next heir would be Baela.

Part of her worried over that, could Daemon be so callous as to hurt Aethan to install Baela?

He had already hurt Laenor to install himself as Rhaenyra’s consort.

It would be wrong to disown Baela and Rhaena, Laena’s line, simply because their father was who he was, but the paranoia of just what Daemon was capable of remained.

It was a step in the right direction, but there was not certainly that they were safe. Measures would still need to be taken, other alliances established and strengthened and mayhaps then they could rest easy knowing they had done everything within their power to protect the family that remained to them.

Chapter Text

Daemon Targaryen was not the kind of man who enjoyed politicking. Being born into his position as a possible claimant to the Iron Throne, politics came with the territory, and so, despite what many people thought about him, he was not blind to the machinations of court, nor the power structures and leeches that existed.

The Targaryens had the greatest legacy, history and strength in the world, and thus had claimed kingship through conquering Westeros, a feat that none other could claim.

Valyrian strength and legacy.

Sure other houses or Valyria survived, but house Targaryen had always been the greatest of them.

So it was undeniably infuriating when another house, even if it was Valyrian, sought to impose their will upon him.

He had, foolishly underestimated Rhaenys strength, she was a Targaryen afterall, and so now he and his wife faced…difficulties. Not impossible to overcome, but there would likely be more compromises in the future to settle the discontent of his cousin and her husband.

He knew Laenor’s ‘death’ would be…damaging - exasperated by the rumours surrounding the circumstances - he relished in the fear of the other Houses - a warning in particular to the grasping Hightower’s that Targaryen strength and ruthlessness remained within their great House despite their dilution and pollution of their blood.

He thought they had the upper hand to ensure the Velaryon loyalty - they would have no proof beyond rumours, Viserys would never thing him or Rhaenyra capable of such cruelty and would back them until death and most importantly he fathered the true heirs to Driftmark and would ensure a match to claim both the Iron Throne and Driftmark which would pacify Corlys and Rhaenys.

And then Corlys had to go fuck his wife and suddenly the surety was no longer there.

Baela was no longer the true heir to Driftmark.

Aethan Velaryon had been born, small but alive, and if he continued to live, he had all rights to the Driftwood throne.

He knew they’d have to pacify Corlys and Rhaenys - Rhaenys in particular.

Rhaenyra naively still believed in her childhood bond with the Hightower cunt Alicent - and had no doubts that she would ascend the Iron Throne uncontested. Daemon was not of the same mind.

Even if Alicent remained true, Aegon had proved already to be a selfish miserable wastrel, he may very well seek to usurp his sister’s rightful place - Otto Hightwoer would certainly never sit idle and allow Rhaenyra’s ascendency, particularly now she had married him, and the Council of 101 remained in the back of his mind - he’d been so pleased of the ease he had when convincing the Lords of the realm to back his brother, his gender had been a great ally in this, and so Rhaenyra’s position was…precarious.

He had never had true worries, Rhaenyra had dragons on her side after all - even after the Hightower brats claimed three dragons, Rhaenyra’s claimed was backed by more - besides his brother’s second daughter was a simpleton who would never fight in battle, his eldest son was a lazy drunk and his youngest son was just that - too young to be considered a threat.

And then the shit Aemond had claimed Vhagar and the possibility of the Hightower’s standing a chance in war had embedded itself into his mind.

Vhagar was a old dragon, the most experienced with battle and warfare - having experienced the original conquest being ridden by the great Queen Visenya. He had less faith in the boy Aemond’s skills - half blinded and a Hightower, but Vhagar alone would be deadly.

He had Caraxes, a dragon who had experienced war several times, and while it was not wise to be overconfident in matters of warfare, he was the most experienced dragonrider of the age - particularly when it came to war. But Caraxes against Vhagar, even with his experience…it would not be certain.

Rhaenyra had Syrax - though if she fought and died, her claim would likely die with her. Her eldest heirs were in fact bastards, and it was unlikely Rhaenyra’s allies would fight for Jacaerys - his son Aegon was young and fourth born, and at best could fracture their allies should there be a struggle between supporting Aegon or Jacaerys - so Rhaenyra’s help fighting against Vhagar was…untenable - a last resort at the very least.

Baela had Moondancer, a dragon that grew more slowly than any on record, and with Viserys’ ailing health, Moondancer would not be ready for the probable war to come - (a selfish part of him was glad, Baela was strong and vivacious but she was his daughter, he had no desire to bury his child).

Jacaerys and Lucerys had juvenile dragons, barely old enough to ride, but more viable than Moondancer. They’d not be overly useful against Vhagar, he’d seen the Cannibal - which was smaller than Vhagar - make meals of dragons of comparable size - it would be a terrible way to die.

The other larger dragons were unbonded, mayhaps Rhaena could claim one…but out of his two daughters, she was the gentler one - he could not see her riding into battle…and he had no interest in burying his child.

Which left Rhaenys and Meleys. Meleys was no hatchling, and was the fastest dragon alive. He could imagine Rhaenys riding into battle, she’d had training by her father in dragon warfare, he’d remembered watching with envy before he’d claimed Caraxes, the manoeuvring he’d taught her...the tactics of dragon warfare - she'd been the picture of a Valyrian princess that he'd kept in his mind all these years - just like the days of old - and admittedly his boyhood crush.

With the red queen on his side against Vhagar, he was certain they’d succeed. Which meant pacifying the Velaryons.

He didn’t like it, half grovelling for loyalty that should exist already…though he understood the difficulties his cousin had, for faith within their allegiance.

Rhaenys had been his favourite cousin, Viserys liked to say she was always his, but it was Daemon that had looked up to Rhaenys, she was a proud Valyrian woman with great strength and intelligence, she had married…begrudgingly well, even if Corlys was ambitious - fighting alongside him had shown the man’s calculation and brutality which was to be respected.

Their relationship had soured greatly by the Council of 101, when he’d backed Viserys, half threatening war - even if Viserys lost, he'd gathered an army for his brother’s rights.

It was very possible the only thing that had kept Rhaenys within the fold of the family had been Aemma, she had always been fond of her sole female cousin, and it had been this relationship that had kept Rhaenys from isolation entirely.

His marriage to Laena, he liked to think helped, his daughter, Rhaenys’ granddaughters…a bond in blood that Rhaenys could not deny.

Still…Laenor’s ‘death’ hung between them now, for better or for worse, giving up wardship of both his daughters was beyond frustrating. He may not always know what they needed, but he was there for them, in whatever it was they did wish.

How else was he to regain their loyalty? If they believed he had a hand in killing Laenor, and he no longer held the surety of control over the true heir to Driftmark…

Mayhaps they had been hasty in removing Laenor. As useless as Rhaenyra claimed he could be as husband, he had always backed her claim, and that of the boys’ claims.

He had hated the idea of being Rhaenyra’s affair partner. Being separated from her in that much, after he’d waited so long - and he’d hated the idea of another man claiming fatherhood over his children. Aegon was his son, and he’d have hated not being able to claim such a right.

He had felt…regret, when seeing Rhaenys at her son’s funeral.

He had no interest in burying his own children, he’d hated burying Laena, and Aemma, and his father…but to bury his child, let alone two children within the span of weeks…he did not often feel regret, but in that moment, when Rhaenys’ screamed as she held what she believed was her son’s charred body…

He should not second guess his actions. The past was the past, there was no use in agonising over what had come before, not when the future held so many hopes.

There was the possibility of war, the grasping Hightowers were insidious, seeking to claim a heritage they had no rights to, and it was left to the true Valyrians to ensure their plots bore no fruit.

When meant compromise.

Baela and Rhaena would be raised on Driftmark, he’d already accepted the outcome of Baela’s wardship as a consolation for his cousin, Rhaena…he knew she had been unhappy to be parted from her sister, he had hoped it would give them a chance to grow from the clear attachment and reliance they had together, but mayhaps he’d been blind to the true fears that his daughters had, he struggled with them, even more so now that Laena was gone, he did not know how to make them move on.

Perhaps Rhaenys would have better ability in helping his daughter, she was a woman after all.

He’d managed to gain consistent access to Driftmark, he’d have preferred unrestricted, but the harsh denial clued him in to the couple’s stance on such a thing, not to mention the guards that now stood around every corner of High Tide…it would take time to mend this rift, patience and comprise - two things he was admittedly not well versed in.

His brother still had life left in him, he hoped at the least - time for the Velaryon and Targaryen allegiance to be rebuilt, new marriage pacts could be made, Baela was destined for queenship, he’d always known this.

Rhaena however…he had hoped she’d be the Lady of the Tides, but she was likely too old to be considered a match for Aethan, marrying her to Lucerys would be a waste, the boy was only half Targaryen, set to inherit nothing now, and in truth a bastard. He may have been willing to risk such a match when he stood to inherit lands and titles, but now he’d seek a new, better match for his younger daughter - after all, no man exactly relish the thought of marrying a most beloved daughter to a bastard, no matter the greatness of the noble parent - he liked Luke, in fact he liked all of Rhaenyra’s children, they reminded him of her in temperament - but there would always be a danger to their lives for the circumstances of their birth - he would risk it for Baela’s Queenship, he’d even have risked if for Driftmark and his daughter’s opportunity to honour her mother’s blood, but without such incentives, he would not risk his girls, no matter how much he liked the boys.

He’d play it off to Rhaenyra as a way of finding new allies, and better ties with the rest of the realm - technically knowing the machinations of the Hightowers, this could very well be a necessary step.

Mayhaps a Celtigar for Rhaena…their blood took in more Andal than one would hope for a Valyrion house, but they were loyal and kept to their roots as much as any could in this foreign land - and it was proven that as long as the one of the parents was of proper stock, the child could very well turn out with enough dragonsblood to bond, the Hightowers and Rhaenyra’s bastards were proof enough of that. The Celtigar heir Clement was seven years older than Rhaena and generally known as a solid man of earnest repute, his grandmother was a Andal, but both his parents had united as Cleitgar cousins…Rhaena’s hand would be the best they could ask for, a Targaryen, the daughter of a Prince, and sister of the future rulers of the realm…it was worth thinking about at least, and then his daughter would marry into a ruling position, anything less was not worthy of her.

Rhaenyra was worried about options for her sons, particularly with the disinheritance from Driftmark, he didn’t see the great worries over much, her choice in father to her eldest children made it rather bleedingly obvious as to where their blood came from, he’d heard the rumours in Pentos, so the whole realm likely was aware of their true nature. Either people would overlook it, or they would not, there was no point begging oneself to people who had already determined where their loyalties lay.

As long as the Velaryons never publicly admitted the ruse, and Viserys remained blind to his daughter’s…indiscretions, there was little anyone in the realm could do about any of it - they were Targaryens afterall. Rhaenyra worrying about it was useless, either people knew and turned a blind eye, or they believed her, just looking at the boys made things rather clear…he’d selfishly admit that he was not bothered either way - either Baela would be queen, or Aegon would be king, he would be glad to see either of his children raised to such a position - as long as no Hightower sat the throne, things would be well.

If things had to go the way of Aegon becoming his mother’s heir - there were ways to take Jacaerys out of the equation if he had already married Baela - he could renege on the marriage by way of swearing oaths, to the Kingsguard, to the Night's Watch, or even the useless Andal faith…and if is daughter’s happiness was in danger…accidents could happen to anyone.

The two other Strong boys would need marriages though, House Baratheon had daughters, House Lannister had daughters, both would be good matches - though it they may be…fickle about marrying their daughters to bastards, it depended how ambitious they were - especially as Luke and Joffrey now stood to inherit little, though Rhaenyra could bestow lands upon her ascension, and if war were to come, the traitor houses could lose their lands - he would be glad to see a Strong bastard seated at the Hightower - mayhaps he could keep Lucerys’ marriage to Rhaena, his daughter ruling over Oldtown would be an inspired revenge.

As for his son Aegon - he still had hopes of putting more babes in Rhaenyra, she was young enough for it, and he would be pleased to give his son a sister wife, just the same as his father had - one of the greatest matches and loves within the realm lingered in his and Viserys’ blood, and he would be glad to give it to his son.

Mayhaps Aegon could take Oldtown? Rhaena’s match with the Celtigars could stand, a Lady of a Valyrian House, and his blood could still rule over Otto Hightower’s homeland without his daughter marrying a bastard.

He shouldn't get ahead of himself, the war was not overtly certain, while he believed Otto Hightower fully capable of such treachery, there was still a chance of the cunt’s death, or even his nephew Aegon’s death, considering how often he allegedly spent touring the streets of silk, drunk out of his mind - anyone could take a dagger and end his miserable life.

Still, it was better to be prepared for war, than be caught unawares - Rhaenys was ultimately to key however, her allegiance could turn to tide as far as his perception of the situation held, which meant she had the upper hand, and even with his daughters as leverage, a granddaughter was not as valuable as a trueborn son and heir - this was a fact of life.

He’d be certain to take to the visits with vigour, make certain to remind Rhaenys of her fondness for her true family, her father’s family - and his presence should keep the sniffing rats the Hightower’s employed, from getting ideas.

And if Aethan died - he was a babe so it remained possible as so many died in the cradle - then Baela’s inheritance stood - they’d not asked for Baela or Rhaena’s disinheritance, so he’d have the upper hand once more.

He should not wish ill on his kin - Rhaenys’ of grief screams still echoed at times, particularly now he was on Driftmark - it would be easier if his cousin did not seem mutinous enough to become a turncloak - there was a debt though, his actions with Rhaenyra had been…rushed - glad as he was to have taken them, it had cost the Velaryons…

Regrets should not be dwelt upon.

Things were as they were, and the winds of opportunity could change direction at a second’s notice, Aethan and Jocelyn’s birth was proof enough of this.

Aethan could yet die.

The Hightower's half-breeds could yet die.

Viserys could recover his health and live another twenty years - such tidings would mean Rhaenys’ dragon would not matter overmuch, the juvenile dragons would grown enough to face Vhagar - or better, the old she-dragon could die - not that he wished for such a great dragon’s death, but better dead than in the hands of the enemy.

Preparation in the immediate months and years were necessary, but it would not do well to put all his hopes in one outcome - he’d done that with Baela’s heirship, and then it had been taken out from under him without warning - he would not make the same mistakes again.

He walked the halls of High Tide, the new guard's eyes following him, which made the hairs on the back of his neck raise. He did not like how they watched him, did not like what it meant for the distrust sown between two houses with such an exalted history.

He’d told Baela and Rhaena that they would now both be staying on Driftmark, and he had to admit, the looks of pure joy and relief on their faces had made his heart soften despite his misgivings about the situation. Sometimes he forgot they were just girls, not yet ready to grow up just yet, not altogether familiar with the dangers and inturges of court and simply enjoyed each other's company instead of worrying over allegiances.

In another world, in a different life, mayhaps one where Laena is with them - he would not so carefully plan their futures and guard their safety - but it was foolish to wish for what could have been.

And he loved Rhaenyra, and Aegon…he would not give them up for the world, and selfishly, he would not give them up to return Laena to her daughters - she was his wife and he loved her once, but a friendly love, hardly passionate and unyielding like he had with Rhaenyra.

He knew the difference hurt his daughters…he was ever glad his own father had never married after his mother’s death - what few memories he had of his mother were precious and he would have hated if his father had replaced her…

His daughters would learn to accept it - mayhaps space was what they needed to move forward.

Still, he did not wish to be parted from them, he was the parent that remained to him, and he would do his duty to see them raised properly and in accordance with the rich heritage they were born to.

His acceptance of the wardship was a sacrifice for the betterment of his house - hate it as he might - the safeguarding of the dynasty fell on his shoulders as Viserys’ blindness to the Hightowers put them all in danger, and Rhaenyra’s childhood friendship clouded her judgement.

Part of him resented Rhaenyra’s choices, that it was her bastards that was the reason he’d have to give up both his daughters to help fix her…blunder.

She had made the best of a bad situation, Laenor had been…as he was - a good man but ill suited to his station. Harwin Strong had capitalised on the situation - though Daemon would likely have not liked the man - from what he gathered he had at least been discrete and ever loyal - though if he'd been wiser he would have recommended an alternative father as his bastards gave no protection to Rhaenyra and in fact were a liability.

He now had to pay for this liability.

He’d visit. He’d still get to watch his daughters grow up.

He turned a corner to the gardens, the children had taken to playing in them when the adults discussed the specifics of the future. The contract Rhaenys and Corlys had presented had been well written, taking into account possible futures, and ensuring the legal disinheritance as ‘reparations’ from House Targaryen to House Velayron, for the insult of his and Rhaenyra’s marriage - the ‘flagrant dismissal of the seven months traditional mourning period’ was the cited reason - ridiculous as it was a stupid Andal custom for their seven gods - but he supposed if it had been his own child’s death, he would likely have taken the widow or widower’s head for such an insult as marrying within the week of a funeral - patience had never been his strength.

All that was left was Viserys officiating the document, Corlys planned to set off to Kings Landing the same day he and Rhaenyra left - how his brother would take the news…remained unseen, his brother adored ‘Aemma’s grandchildren’, so he and Rhaenyra would likely be summoned as well to confirm the veracity of the document.

The documents themselves had actually been rather…kind to Rhaenyra considering she did have clear and obvious bastards. Kinder than he would have been, but then, he knew they would not wish to alienate him due to his daughters - which was a glad realisation as it meant there were still ties they were willing to keep. The ‘restitution’ of disinheritance was perhaps the best outcome they could have hoped for, Rhaenyra hated it because of the greater concern of rumours about her sons, but there was little hope of quashing those rumours entirely - he understood she had high regard for Harwin Strong, but to choose him of all people to father the boys - it was perhaps rather shortsighted - knowing the ambitious of Vaemond and his sons, she should have just asked one of them to father her bastards, or even a bastard Velaryon that they could have killed after the deed was done.

What was done, was done.

The sounds of children playing eased the heavy thoughts from his mind.

He found the children laughing as they hid from one another, he could spy Rhaena had found a spot behind the roots of a foreign tree…Pentoshi if he was not mistaken - she and Lanea used to sit beneath many such trees - his heart clenched at the memory - better to think on the future.

Baela was the one doing the searching, Lucerys as the smallest was nowhere to be seen, but Jacaerys’ head peeked out from behind a finger-lime bush from Moraq.

The children had taken the news of a change in inheritance…well. Jacaerys, the eldest and most politically aware of his situation, had paled but accepted it with grace, Lucerys the greatest injured by the change had actually sighed in relief, the boy likely knowing he was ill suited as Lord of the Tides having never actually taken any kind of interest in the sea nor shown any affinity (in fact shown aversion) to sailing. Joffrey was too young to note anything much, still learning his words and greater command of his own pudgy limbs.

Rhaneys and Corlys would retain acknowledgment of their ‘Velaryon’ roots and treat the boys with the same familial association as before. A compromise - one that was better than the alternative that could see Rhaenyra losing her standing altogether, and result in a Hightower becoming the heir presumptive - worse that heir would be Aegon, the worst of them. He refused to see Otto’s blood on the throne, it would be an affront to their heritage, to their blood and to everything that made Targaryen’s great.

He hoped Viserys would not be difficult about it - he saw the documents were the best outcome now that Aethan had…arrived - his daughters still stood to inherit which remained a possibility he would be glad for, but if Viserys denied it - even if Rhaenyra hoped he would - it could lead to a fracture with the allegiance already tenuous - and Vhagar was an ever heavy presence in his mind ever since Aemond had claimed her.

If Viserys refused the disinheritance…it could lead to Corlys taking more drastic measures - which was to be avoided, if they wanted to protect Rhaenyra’s rights as heir. A daughter as heir when she had living brothers was precarious enough, a daughter with three official bastards would mean disinheritance, no matter how much VIserys loved Rhaenyra, he could not save her from that.

He hoped his brother for once, would remain weak willed and eager to please, surely Rhaenyra’s signature would be enough to convince him of her acceptance - then they could move on from the ugly business and move forward, united against the Hightowers.

Rhaenyra was…indignant, he understood in part why she had not wished for a marriage, particularly with a man unable to give her children and she’d done as best as she was able within the circumstances. She was at times…frustrating, in her insistence that the boys were Velaryons, even in the privacy between themselves, he knew there was a danger to the boys, should it ever actually be admitted - by law they could be put to death…not that Viserys would ever allow harm to come to Aemma’s blood, even when they were bastards.

She was entitled, admittedly he’d likely had a hand in this entitlement, her expectation that the sheep adhere to how the Targaryen’s wished the world to be - admittedly he was of the same opinion, and unapologetic about this fact…but the Velaryons, whilst not as prestigious or powerful as Targaryens…they were Valyrian too, and Rhaenys was a Targaryen herself, to render an insult to her was unbecoming, and to expect Rhaenys to follow along happily was unrealistic, her nature was that of a dragon, just the same as their own natures.

Messing with the allegiance between houses, when in particular they had a valid call to was…foolish. Laenor had been to blame for the lack of children, but even Rhaenyra could not deny that there remained other legitimate inheritors - his own daughters to be specific. Mayhaps if Aethan and Jocelyn hadn’t come, things could have gone the way Rhaenyra had hoped, Lucerys would have had the titles to go along with the name and Rhaena’s marriage to him would have brought Velaryon blood back to title - but they must adapt, there was a greater threat that Rhaenyra refused to admit was in their midsts, and if she refused to prepare for it, he would do it for her.

“Father! Come help me look for Lucerys!” Baela called out, snapping him from his thoughts, he agreed. He moved with his eldest, searching for the boy within the garden - each garden in High Tide boasted some of the most unique and foreign plants - a testament and reminder that Corlys Velaryon was in fact a man that had undertaken legendary voyages, bringing untold treasures and riches aplenty for what had been a relatively innocuous house who’s greatest claim before him, had been its survival of the Doom, by luck and interest in trade - not like the Targaryen’s and their dreamer’s.

Corlys had…built the house Velaryon up by his own hand. He had fought with him in the Stepstones and their allegiance had been one of mutual respect…His and Rhaenyra’s actions had been impulsive, they had not been intended as insult, but he could acknowledge some small fault in how quickly things had progressed. Rhaenys and Corlys were their most powerful and useful allies, and should be treated with the respect that earned, and Rhaenys dragonsblood alone should have kept that to the forefront of his thoughts…patience had never been his virtue.

Baela was smiling at him whenever their eyes met, such a free expression had not been given to him since Laena’s death, he had not known just how deep Baela’s worries about a separation with Rhaena had affected her - it saddened him, that his daughter, his Baela, had not come to him with this.

He would miss her, his strong Baela.

He would miss gentle Rhaena.

He’d see them weekly, of that he would make certain, but a part of him was left a void - emptiness, knowing he would not see them each day.

He should not dwell on such thoughts.

Besides, he’d have Rhaenyra and his son Aegon as excellent company.

Eventually they found Lucerys, he’d managed to hide in some monstrously pink bush and emerged covered in red and purple dust, the black on his doublet making the pollen stand out.

They were children…sometimes he’d need to remind himself of that. Of course their futures were important to think about, but he should not wish away their childhoods…he always resented how his childhood had ended so abruptly when he was married off to the bronze bitch by way of political machinations by his grandparents.

The children were laughing and joking with one another, Baela’s hand moved to his and he allowed her to pull him along into their games.

---

Laenor had heard, of course he’d heard.

The Lord and Lady of Driftmark had been blessed by the gods - twins - twins in the twilight years of their lives - some said in compensation by the gods for stealing their first children…he did not like thinking of such things, the guilt would eat him alive.

He had a brother and another sister.

Aethan, he tested the name on his lips, Aethan Velaryon, his brother.

He remembered when he’d been young, he’d asked his mother and father to give him a brother, Queen Aemma had been pregnant and everyone expected a little boy and he was jealous that his cousin Rhaenyra would have a little brother, so he’d asked for one.

It was only years later, when he remembered the sadness on their faces as they received word of Queen Aemma’s death, that he understood why his parents, who had granted him all they could, had not granted him that particular request.

He also had a new sister. In part it stung, because Laena’s death still echoed in every day, she had been his constant companion, truest confidant and greatest ally.

Laena had been the only person he’d ever expressly told of his…inclination.

And she had loved him anyway, not even in spite of it, she told him she loved him as he was, and she would be glad for whatever love he found in the world, no matter what form it took.

Now he had a new sister, Jocelyn, named for his grandmother. He wondered whether she would be her brother Aethan’s confidant.

He hoped so.

He hoped Aethan was the son his parents had needed. WIthout the curse of Laenor’s attractions, able to be dutiful, wise and strong.

Laena would have loved them. She’d have gone home to Diftmark - even without her husband's permission - and doted on her younger siblings. She’d have happily raised her daughters with them.

She should have lived. He would have died in her place if given the chance.

It would have been kinder to his parents if he had passed and Laena had lived, she would never have acted so cowardly to abandon their family as he had.

Qarl tried to cheer him, twins were wonderful news, it meant he could stop feeling the soul crushing guilt for having abandoned his parents after they had already lost Laena.

Running away was not as he had thought it would be.

He was certainly glad for some parts, the freedom of going wherever and doing whatever he wished was a joy. The bone crushing paranoia that had emerged at court could be lifted slightly - there were few parts of the world that welcomed people of his tastes, but now he was not consort of the heir, far fewer people had their eyes on him, and most of the common folk were simply glad if you kept to yourself, what happened behind closed doors were for the occupants to worry over.

There were bad parts though, difficulties he had not anticipated when Rhaenyra and Daemon had come to him with this plan.

The life amongst the common folk had far greater privacies, fewer responsibilities, but also far fewer privileges.

They had to feed and house themselves, and coin was rather difficult to come by, particularly if he wanted to maintain a semblance of the lifestyle for which he’d been raised to expect.

They needed employment - and while he certainly had a far greater education and opportunity for skilled training in his life - working for a living was far more tiring than the life as his father’s heir.

They had sailed, first to Pentos, then when the echoes of Laena had haunted him even in that foreign city, they’d travelled north to Braavos. He and Qarl were deciding where their path lay, either as mercenaries in a sell-sword company, fighting their way through the east, because it was something they were admittedly good at - or part of Laenor thought a more lucrative opportunity to start a mercenary fleet company. He was his father’s son afterall, and wars could be won by ships as much as they could be won by swords.

It depended how much work they were willing to put in, and whether Qarl would be agreeable to such an ambition - he was not overly ambitious, had no desire to seek any kind of great legacies - he’d once laughed whilst drunk; “Why should I seek a legacy? Who will inherit it? The imaginary children I will never have?”

Laenor did not like thinking about children. It made him think of his…Rhaenyra’s boys. She’d said they weren’t his, that she needed someone to be a father to her sons and his morose grieving made him useless as consort. He had been trying, he’d made an oath to her, one he thought she would accept gladly, having often disproved of his more carefree attitude towards things - and certainly deriding his desire to go off for some kind of fight - she never understood that fighting had been the one thing he’d been good at, the one thing his father had praised him for, particularly after the absolute mess he’d made of their marriage.

Jace, Luke and little Joff…he’d had so little time with the boy named for his first love.

Was what he had done better for them? Rhaenyra had certainly been of the opinion that it was - but he, like usual, found himself second guessing his agreement to the plan.

Of all the people he’d left behind, it was his boys he missed the most.

Rhaenyra’s boys.

The sons of his heart.

He would miss his parents, but in some ways, all children grow up knowing that one day they would have to farewell their parents forever…he’d just agreed to do it earlier than he would have liked.

He would miss watching Laena’s girls grow up, he only saw them on occasion - a blessed break from court as he’d visit Pentos on Seasmoke. He did not know them well, but he was sure Laena was wroth with him, she would have wanted him there with the girls as she could not be, and he had betrayed her.

What was he to do? He was broken - born as a man that could not do a man’s duty. He could not have children, the attempts had been humiliating and Rhaneyra had hardly been patient with him in the attempts - she had said it was meant to be pleasurable and his fumbling about was uncomfortable - as if it was not uncomfortable for him as well.

He thought he’d been a good stand in as father though. He’d play with the boys, help them learn their lessons - the ones Rhaneyra trusted him with - she had not allowed him to help Jacaerys to learn to fly - that had hurt.

Besides, if he had stayed…Daemon was not known for being kind to those who stood in the way of his intended bride. Laena had once confided in him that Daemon had admitted to killing the Lady Rhea Royce when drunk…he’d been ready to whisk her away to safety but she’d refused him, adamantly believing he would not harm her because he had chosen her.

He did not want to believe Daemon would have harmed him but…the fear had remained at the back of his mind, ever since his sister had confided such a secret to him.

It was easier to go. To not risk harm, whether it be at Daemon’s hands, or Otto Hightower’s ever present spies, or even the risk of the Faith’s wrath should his tastes reach the ears of the High Septon.

It was…not easier as he had thought.

He missed his boys something fierce.

He missed his parents, even knowing he was a disappointment to them.

He missed his nieces, the last remnants of his most beloved Laena.

He missed Seasmoke - like missing a limb. He did not like thinking of his dragon. Thinking of the boys hurt, thinking of his parents hurt, thinking of his dragon was agony - like half his mind had been ripped away and there would be days he could not rise from bed with the head aches.

He did not like thinking of Seasmoke.

He was walking the canals of Braavos, colourful clothing, he had no need to wear the drab dark colours of the nobles, instead he had - perhaps nostalgically - picked bright teal and peacock accents that still made Qarl laugh when he saw him.

Qarl had taken to singing at the Moon Pool for some extra spending coin - they were not yet impoverished, but Qarl used it as ‘drinking money’, and Laenor liked listening to his voice anyway.

Tonight however he would be missing Qarls performance - he’d seen a boy earlier, a boy with a face so similar to his own that he could not help but follow the boy.

Braavos was a multicultural, a mish mash of all different places, and a port city, which inevitably lead to sailors fucking and leaving babes that had looks from all over the world. It was, in many ways, not unlike Kingslanding, though his old home at court had been heavily Andal in looks, down by the docks you could find a person with looks of a Yi Tiish, or Astapor, or even the Summer Isles.

But this boy…looked like he could have stepped off of Driftmark. A cousin, or a bastard of his uncle’s mayhaps…same face, Velaryon features were undeniable.

It was almost as he’d have imagined a son of his own blood would look.

He followed the boy from a distance, it was clear quickly that the lad spoke in the common westerosi tongue.

Mayhaps this was madness.

Mayhaps someone would think of him as some kind of creep, following a boy, mayhaps nine or ten years of age.

Mayhaps they’d think them related and he was a concerned relative.

The boy eventually moved to s ship…a familiar ship. It was one of the local ships of Driftmark, a small trading cog…he could not remember the name, he could recall the shipwright who had owned it, a good man…Alyn.

So the boy was likely related to Alyn, the man he remembered had been of age with his father, mayhaps even dead, but there was every likelihood of his having had children.

What lingered in his mind however, was Alyn’s looks. He had been pale skinned and dark haired, and yet the boy who had stepped onto the ship looked Valyrion…Velaryon to be specific.

Had his uncle had a bastard?

The timeline would not match, his uncle been on his own voyage when the boy had been would have been conceived, unless the lad was significantly older or younger than Laenor would estimate.

Vaemond had been angry at Jacaerys’ looks - that he did not have Velaryon blood. He’d left to sail, keeping away for a while, sent away by his father so that cooler heads might prevail.

Mayhaps his cousins…though several had gone with his uncle Vaemond…

His father had been on Driftmark…

No one liked the idea of their father betraying their mother, as soon as the thought entered his head, Laenor resolved to ignore it.

Better to go back to the Moon Pool.

Better to be with Qarl, he made the world feel less dark when they were together.

He resolved to put the boy with a face like his own well out of his mind.

The world was dark enough as it was.

Chapter Text

Baela might be a bit selfish, but she was so happy Rhaena was staying with her on Driftmark. When Father had come in after talking with grandmother and grandfather, and he’d said that Rhaena would now be staying too - well it was the best news ever!

She knew it might be a little selfish - there were sacrifices that needed to be made for the good of her House - that's what father had said on the matter previously, but she was glad that this sacrifice wasn’t happening anymore.

She knew in a perfect world, they’d all get to stay together, her, Rhaena, father…mother.

But the world had danger within its nature, a bit like a dragon - so they couldn’t all be with one another - so she’d hold onto Rhaena as long as she was able, because while they argued sometimes, she knew Rhaena would always be on her side, always have her back, and always want the best for her - and Baela would reciprocate always.

Standing on the docks waving goodbye to her father’s ship, Rhaena’s hand in hers - she didn’t feel half as nervous as she’d been before, leaving behind father, and her cousins, and moving once more had been…a little scary - but with Rhaena, it was almost exciting - like an adventure.

She was glad too - she’d been worried about Rhaena, she was her little sister, and therefore it was her responsibility to look out for her, and she couldn’t do that if they were separated - and as much as she loved her father, she knew Rhaena had never really figured out to fit in when it came to father’s expectations for how a good Targaryen was meant to be. She tried to keep the focus on her, tried to keep father’s attentions so he wouldn’t say something unkind, or unthinking that would ruin Rhaena’s confidence further - maybe it wasn't the best way to go about things but she had no idea how to make father see that Rhaena was perfect as she was, so she’d be the perfect one and Rhaena could be herself. Maybe Rhaena just had more Velaryon in her, she’d been very close to mother - not that Baela wasn’t close to mother - but their mother had always made time for Rhaena where father kind of forgot to - he got distracted by other things (mostly the books about old Valyria and thinking of the past).

She tried to emulate their father, it wasn’t a hardship to be the child he clearly wanted - she wanted to be the child he sought…she quite liked being like her father, loud, confident, dangerous. One day, she’d like to be able to walk into a room and command respect - her father had laughed when she’d said this, he said she was a Targaryen, that her name alone commanded respect, but it wasn’t the same, she wanted people to look at her like a leader, like someone who was capable and clever and strong - like father - but the issue was (at least as father had said) was that she was born a woman, and that made all the difference apparently.

And now Aegon wasn’t born a woman - and father adored him…

Was this how Rhaena felt all the time?

Was this how it felt to not live up to the expectations of father? To not be enough?

Maybe she had too much Velaryon in her too.

But she loved her mother, and her mother had loved her house, and….and…was it really so bad if she wasn’t all Targaryen?

It wasn’t that she was not proud of her heritage, being a Targayren and a Velaryon was wonderful - she just didn’t always see why it mattered so much to father. Surely he’d love them even if they weren’t Valyrian? Surely he loved that they were both Velaryon and Targaryen?

Father said their heritage was the richest and most powerful in the world…

Sometimes she worried he liked the past more than he looked to the future.

She loved her father, wanted to be like him in many, many ways - but not all ways.

She didn’t want to make her children feel…like they weren’t enough…

She didn’t want to be so caught up in love for their heritage and histories that she forgot that today was important too.

She had her mother’s blood in her too - and she would never apologise or be ashamed of that - even if Aegon had a Targaryen mother…

Maybe she was being selfish - all the resentment and anger that seemed to have grown within her - her father deserved to be happy - she just wished he’d been more thoughtful for her and Rhaena, taken a little bit more time…she wasn't really certain what she wanted.

It was the way of the world that husbands moved on after the deaths of their wives - Rhaenyra’s father had done so - but at least he had waited - and at least he didn’t seem to have forgotten his daughter by his first wife.

She just…wanted to feel seen again.

Maybe being here on Driftmark, learning about her mother’s heritage might help with that? Maybe she could honour her mother, honour her heritage, but live life caring less about the blood of her father’s house, and more as the true and brave of her mother’s house.

Grandmother was so very happy they were staying too, she’d shown them all around the island and even let them share mother’s girlhood room, with all the items she’d left in there. Rhaena had taken to wearing several of their mother’s dresses, father would send Rhaena’s other items soon, her sister looked well in the sea green and blues, whenever she wore the Targaryen blacks, it was like she wanted to fade away into the background and pretend she wasn’t there, where Baela quite liked wearing the red - bold and loud and attention grabbing.

Her grandfather seemed pleased too, though he was squirt busy organising his house - her own father wasn’t lord of anything (technically Lord Consort of Dragonstone - but it was his wife’s rights not his own), so it was interesting to see how a Lord oversaw his household and how different it was to what she’d seen in Pentos, or even on Dragonstone.

It was odd, her grandfather worked closely with his nephews and his brothers, organising lands and cadet branches and ensuring they’d be look after - it occurred to her that Rhaenyra hadn’t done the same - even though she was the future of house Targayren.

Of course, it should be King Viserys organising things like cadent branches appropriate marriages and instilling strong bonds - and mayhaps he had done so with her cousins’ marriage to each other - but he was also a sick man, she’d seen him at her mother’s funeral and looking even older at her uncles though it had barely been a week between them - if Rhaenyra was to be the future of house Targayren, and if the King was too unwell to properly look after the affairs - surely it should be Rhaenyra working to do the same things as her Grandfather Lord Corlys was?

He was so busy, and it was clearly a balancing act, but she’d never seen Rhaenyra make the same effort…

Maybe she just hadn't been paying attention properly? The past year had been quite the blur.

She knew there was ill feeling though, within house Targaryen…ill feelings that had until recently also existed in house Velaryon because of how her cousins…looked.

She had listened to the quiet whispers, the things her father said to pay no mind to…she knew her cousins were not her blood cousins….well at least as far as her mother’s brother’s blood was concerned - Rhaenyra was her father’s niece so her sons were were related to Baela…somehow.

She wasn’t certain to know how to feel about such a truth…she liked them well enough, they were fun to play with, though she’d gotten quite angry when they’d tried to tease Rhaena about her lack of a dragon.

It wasn’t their fault they were born as they were…did her uncle know? Surely he had to have known? She did not know her uncle well but surely he wasn’t that blind, they had pale skin and brown hair! Even with having three grandparents with pale skin (as did Baela and Rhaena), it seemed rather clear that the darker skin tones was a more dominant trait that should have been inherited by at least one of the boys - and besides, she knew Rhaenyra claimed that their dark hair came from grandmother Rhaenys’ Baratheon roots, but everyone knew Baratheons had black hair - not brown - it was a stupid lie.

It meant she was…meant to be heir…if Aethan hadn’t been born she was to be the true heir to Driftmark though no one had said anything of the like to her - not her father, not Rhaenyra, not grandfather or grandmother - sure her grandparents were likely waiting to see if the babe was born alive and which gender it would be - but father and Rhaenyra had been blindsided by the arrival of uncle Aethan and aunt Jocelyn - her father hadn’t said anything about her rights…and that surprisingly stung.

She thought…she might have liked to be the Lady of Driftmark…not that she would ever wish for anything bad to happen to her uncle Athan - but there were rights that came with inheriting lands rather than marrying into the rulership - rights that would see her better protected - and therefore she could also better protect Rhaena.

She knew her grandfather and grandmother would never allow anything bad to happen while they were alive, but they were older and would not be around forever…as for her father…he didn’t even defend her rights when there was no reason to believe there was a better claimant…would he truly protect her? Even if it meant breaking ties with Rhaenyra? Because that was the only reason she could see - as to why he’d not backed her before, it was in service to Rhaenyra - so that meant…he was not reliable when it came to Rhaenyra…

It stung.

Her grandparents had sat her and Rhaena down recently and explained the new line of succession.

Her grandfather’s heir was his second and only surviving son Aethan, and after him, was Baela, then Rhaena, then aunt Jocelyn, uncle Vaemond and his line. Her cousins Jace, Luke and Joff would be ‘disinherited’ for the insult by their parents against House Velaryon - when Rhanea had asked whether they would be disinherited too (Baela’s heart had hammered so loud in her chest at the thought) - grandmother had soothed out their worries, that their mother’s blood would always be honoured, and that they would never be disinherited, because their mother lived within them - and that mattered.

Grandmother had said it was important they learn of their mother’s house, and of the duties that came with being head of such a prestigious house, whether it be because they ended up inheriting by their own merit, or if they married an heir as was expected, it was their duty to know how to look after everything.

It was both intimidating and exhilarating to be trusted with all the responsibilities, and Baela was determined to live up to it.

Connecting with her Velaryon roots was fun, her grandfather had promised to teach them how to sail a ship, how to read the stars, the weather and the waters - when he got back from visiting the King to ensure the disinheritance of Jace, Luke and Joff.

In the meantime it was Grandmother’s lessons they attended, their grandmother had been raised for Queenship - an she said she saw no reason why they shouldn't get a similar education - it was more than the normal lady’s lessons that Baela had heard other daughters from other houses received - there were the typical lessons on household management, poetry and cultural rules and customs such as guest right and bread and salt that every noble lady needed to know - but rules on law, ethics, philosophy, and diplomacy like a Lord and heir would learn.

Grandmother also taught them other things - Targaryen things - fine tuning their High Valyrian - (Baela felt far more comfortable than Rhaena, but her sister persisted - besides it was more fun to learn together). And - perhaps she shouldn't be so pleased by the lessons - they learned about warfare, tactics, strategy, and once Moondancer was bigger, she’d learn of dragon riding battle tactics too. She knew it was bad to enjoy the thought of war, and it want that she wanted war - but she liked that she was being taught such…masculine things…that she, a girl, was being taught things just the same as boys would be - mayhaps even more so because her shared lessons with Jacaerys and Lucerys had not been about such things.

She was working up the courage to ask grandmother to learn how to wield a sword. Her father had Darksister - Queen Visenya’s valyrian steel blade - a warrior Queen, a Valyrian Queen of equal prowess as her brother - that's how Baela wanted to be seen.

She’d thought about asking father, particularly when she’d watched Jace and Luke in the training yard - but she’d been so angry at him recently, she didn’t want to make a request and then see it fail - or worse, make the request and then feel like she owed him gratitude when she wanted to stay angry at him for marrying so soon after mother. She’d been moving past her anger when Aegon had arrived - and her hopes to make the request had died, because she knew he’d give Darksiter to his favourite child, his first son, the child of the woman he really loved.

So she’d never asked him.

Now she had to ask grandmother…she wasn’t certain of the reception. Her grandmother may have the education of a Queen, and know many things that Ladies did not get to learn, but she was very much a perfect Lady, she ran Driftmark (sometimes even better than Grandfather in Baela’s opinion), she loved being a wife and a mother, and a grandmother (Baela wasn’t certain she’d find such an amicable marriage, nor settle so well at having children), and her Grandmother always seemed so at home in her own skin - Baela sometimes wanted to jump out of her own and into something more comfortable…would she accept this part of Baela? Would she accept that Baela wanted more than to be a Lady, more than a wife and a mother (she was scared she wouldn't be any good at the normal womanly things), she wanted to be…an adventurer, a warrior, she wanted people to respect her - not just respect her relation to her father or her husband - but her - Baela Targaryen.

She wanted to be able to protect the people she cared about, Rhaena, baby Aegon, her father, her grandparents (but mostly Rhaena).

One of her Velaryon cousins - Daemion had noticed her interest. He talked with her and was nice (and he even called her pretty which she’d blushed at), and he offered to train her with a sword in secret.

He said it could be their secret, and allow them a strong bond.

It was nice, he was handsome and smart and had fun stories of his own travels across the Narrow Sea - and most importantly he seemed to see her. He’d been spending a lot of time with her, and didn’t think she was too childish despite the ten years between them.

She loved Rhaena but she was so quiet, and she’d spend some alone time in the gardens or with her new egg, or trying to catch up in their High Valyrian lessons, so Baela sometimes spent time alone - and this was where Daemion kept accidentally running into her as she explored the island, and he kept her company on her explorations, because grandmother’s health didn’t let her leave High Tide half as much as she wished, and grandfather was gone to Kingslanding, and he said he admired her bond with Moondancer (though her beloved dragon didn’t seem to admire him half as much).

She didn’t know him all that well, but there was a beginning of a friendship between them, and mayhaps…if grandmother refused to let her learn - mayhaps she could accept his lessons in swordplay.

But she would ask - it was only right, she should respect her grandparents and their wishes for her, they’d always been supportive of her, had found a way to ensure she and Rhaena would be together, and they seemed to respect her as an individual, sure, sometimes she was sure all they saw when they looked at her was her mother, but she’d rather be seen as similar to her mother, than not be seen at all.

She’d ask…Daemion, didn’t think she should, he said he’d prefer if they had a secret to share but…as much as she liked him, and as kind as he was…she wanted to trust her grandparents.

If they refused then she could always sneak off with him and learn anyway - but she’d rather try to be honest about it.

It was…a test.

Mayhaps she shouldnt test her family members…but after fathers betrayal…after the hurt she felt when he’d remarried, the pain she felt when he failed to defend her claim to Dirftmark, and the sting of Aegon’s arrival that had his attention shift so decidedly away from her…she needed to know if her grandparents would do the same.

She needed to know if they truly saw her…

So she’d test them.

Baela smoothed out the dress she was wearing - she wished it was breeches - mayhaps she could go through uncle Laenor’s old things?

One thing at a time. She needed to show she was dedicated to all her lessons if she wanted to add another (more unconventional) area of study within her schedule.

Daemion had left her as she was moving to her grandmother’s solar, he said they should keep their friendship quiet, as he didn’t want grandmother separating them for something as silly as their genders, and he seemed disappointed by her intent on asking for the sword lessons from a master - she’d tried to assure him that she had absolute faith in his abilities as a sword master and teacher, but he seemed disappointed anyways which made her feel bad.

On one hand she understood what he meant - it wasn’t proper for a Lady to be alone with an unattached man - but he was family - and they were just friends. He was fun and kind and listened to her, and he didn’t mind when she was unladylike - besides, why couldn’t boys and girls be friends? (Well Daemion wasn’t really a boy - more of a man at twenty years of age - but they were friends nonetheless).

Part of her felt a little guilty at keeping the budding friendship a secret, part of her wanted desperately to tell Rhaena, but Rhaena was better at being a lady, and she would probably worry over the friendship and insist on coming along to their meetings, and as much as she adored her sister so very, very much, she also liked that Daemion’s attention was solely on her (a bit like how father’s attention used to be).

Growing up was so confusing.

If mother were here then she’d have someone to talk to about it all, her mother didn’t mind that she was as she was, she said she’d love her no matter what, even if she wanted to become a knight and rescue maidens (even quietly promising she’d love Baela if she loved maidens) - Balea had never heard of such a thing - maidens loving maidens…like a knight would love a maiden? It seemed rather odd, and Baela had never looked in a maiden the same way she sometimes looked as the men when they were training - but her mother had said it within earnestness and quilt alluded to her uncle enjoying spending time with knights…she’d heard the term sword-swallower before - an insult - but mayhaps that was why uncle Laenor…and if mother could accept her uncle being as he was….then surely she’d accept Baela being as she was - she didn’t like maidens, or want to be a man, but she wanted to be like a man, respected, powerful and dangerous.

Besides, her mother hadn’t really been the perfect lady either - she liked to go on adventures, and fly all around and she didn’t mind that she ran no household, nor had a thousand fancy dresses. She had been a great mother though, and in Baela’s opinion a wonderful wife - though apparently not as good as Rhaenyra considering father’s reaction, she’d failed to give father a son - well who cared? If Rhaenyra was good enough to be her father’s heir then why did it matter what gender people were? Why did Lucerys who did not share Corlys Velaryon’s blood matter more than Baela in her father’s eyes?

…Why wasn’t grandmother queen?

Because gender mattered - sons mattered - and Baela hated it.

Her grandmother had been so wonderful, she reminded Baela so much of her mother in mannerism that it hurt.

Her grandmother listened and spent time with her and Rhaena, sometimes together, sometimes separate - and she wasn’t afraid to speak about mother, she’d cry with them, and remember mother, sometimes with a laugh at a funny story when mother had done something clever, or sometimes with great sorrow as she’d reminisce on the goodness of Laena - and the pain of her absence.

It hurt less when they spoke of their mother's memory - it did not change her death, nor the ache that remained, but it felt like the pain would be accompanied by memories, and this somehow made all the difference.

She hoped, very much, that grandmother would allow this - she wanted it so much, to be able to protect herself, to be a warrior, to prove that she could be just as good as any boy (that father was wrong for loving Aegon more).

Grandmother had also been…weaker. She used to be able to fly on Meleys for hours, and she’d been able to walk around with them all over Pentos when she’d visited, but now she tired so easily - she had only flown of Meleys once since her and Rhaena’s arrival, though she did walk down to spend time with Meleys when Baela herself visited Moondancer. Sometimes she worried for her grandmother (and for herself) - childbirth was dangerous - her mother had proved that - and if grandmother was still experiencing issues now months after birth…she already had doubts about how good she would be as a mother, it wasn't that she hated the idea, but if she wasn’t good at other womanly things like singing or needlework…and her mother had died and Baela didn’t want to die.

Her grandmother was still dedicated. She made sure to share meals with Baela and Rhaena, and even the tiny twins Aethan and Jocelyn, though they were still drinking mother’s milk from the wet-nurses, she had the twins brought to family meals, she said she wanted her family to be together as much as possible.

Her grandmother also ran Driftmark in her grandfather’s absence…and was in charge of their lessons…and mayhaps would be amenable to lessons of swordplay.

Knocking on her grandmother’s door, she heard the assent to enter and made her way in.

Her grandmother was at her desk, quill in hand, looking over…what Baela’s cursory glance told her, were letters bearing the Ruthermont seal - the cadet branch was the business of the day it seemed.

She smiled at Baela’s entrance, placing the quill to the side and giving Baela her full attention (when had been the last time her father had done that?).

“Grandmother !...” Baela trailed off, she shouldn't be so nervous - she was Baela Targaryen! But her cousin Daemion’s words had sprouted seeds of worry - that grandmother would not accept this part of her and just want her to be a proper lady.

Her grandmother waited patiently, giving her a nod of support which warmed her heart. “I’d…I’d like to learn how to fight with a sword!” She bit her lip sharply at the end of her request - she’d not been very ladylike, no sweet words or diplomatic phrasing - she was really not very good at being a lady.

Her grandmother sat looking rather taken aback, it made Baela want to run away and hide - maybe Rhaena would help her…or Daemion.

“Baela - “ Her grandmother sounded colsolitory - and she knew she’d made a mistake, she shouldn’t have trusted her, she should have listened to Daemion, if her father wouldn't see her, why should her grandmother?

She wanted to run but she couldn’t, she was meant to be the brave one, the strong one - she’d find another way, she would!

“Sweetling, has something made you worried? Has someone threatened you? Or made you feel unsafe?” Her grandmother’s eyes were sharp, but her voice was soft. She hadn’t been expecting such questions, it hadn’t occurred to her that her grandmother might think it was because she felt threatened - she didn’t…well not like that. She wanted to protect herself and her family, but it was not because anything had actually happened.

“No I just…I wanted to learn, being a lady is boring and I just thought it might be…fun.” She looked down at the ground not wanting to see the inevitable disappointment, because she was wrong for liking what she liked.

“ Baela dearest. I…You understand it is an unusual request.”

Her grandmother sighed and her heart sank - an unusual request for an unusual granddaughter. Sometimes she wished she was more like Rhaena, she may not fit well into the family but she fit into the world much easier, Baela stood out uncomfortably and while her father had loved her for it - now he had a true son that he could do all those things with, which left Baela alone, and odd.

She felt tears well up, but she refused to cry. She’d find another way - Daemion would keep it a secret!

Her grandmother came around the desk and made her look up at her, the older woman’s gaze softened, “You know your mother never felt at ease as a lady either - she liked the dresses and the jewellery but her heart was always with dragons. She wanted to be an explorer, and told me she’d be just like her father but without the ugly beard.”

Baela held her breath as her grandmother spoke, her mother had been wonderful, she hadn’t fit the mould of lady well sometimes but other times, it was like she was a shapeshifter and could switch around and become what the world needed her to be - even if that meant being a lady.

“Some people won’t approve, my love, some people will be cruel and say you are acting unbefitting of your station.” Her grandmother looked sad for a moment, “Your father would say not to listen to the sheep…” Her paused and frowned - Baela felt her heart pounding, it was not yet a refusal.

“Doing what is expected is important in a world where everyone else follows the same rules - but if that were the case, sweetling, then things would be far different than they are…” Her grandmother traced her fingers across her cheek fondly, “You will need to keep up with your other lessons, and I still expect you to learn how to be a lady - at least the important bits…but a bit of fun never hurt anyone, and it's an admirable skill to acquire.”

Baela’s heart soared! She was going to learn - her grandmother saw her - she didn’t mind that Baela was different!

She couldn’t wait to tell Rhaena, and Daemion! Maybe they could train together but not in secret!

---

Corlys never liked Kingslanding.

The worst bloody port in the entire Seven Kingdoms - mayhaps the worst port he’d ever attended - and he’d made visits around the known world.

It smelled of shit, and sickness and was hot once you moved beyond the immediate waterside area.

Upon his arrival he was greeted by the Queen and her sworn sword…the Dornish one…the one that had made a scene at Laenor’s wedding, killing Joffrey Lonmouth, his son’s…companion, which he’d met on a visit to his grandmother’s maidenhood lands in the Stormlands.

Gods - he loved Laenor but he hoped Aethan would be normal.

The Queen was kind and generous in her greeting - the Red Keep was under some kind of habilitation, several of the old murals he’d been familiar seemed to be in the process of being taken down…perhaps the King grew tired of them, he was known for his decadence and decision making on a whim.

She asked about his wife’s health, and his new children…it seemed genuine, he could fault her for many things but she did seem to be able to show genuine interest in the affairs of the realm and the powerful players within it - whether forced or not - she was a fair consort, of course his Laena would have been far better, but the past was written, there was no point in lingering on old resentments, he had his remaining family’s safety and happiness to keep in mind.

They spoke in pleasantries, his new children, her own children’s marriage, the changes to the Red Keep - apparently taking a pious turn (therefore likely her decision more so than the King), and then of course things turned to the reason for his visit.

He had a meeting with the King, he needed the abdications signed - his son’s future was at stake.

The King was ill, apparently his condition was worsening and now her father stood in more often than not - Otto Hightwoer…how bloody convenient for the man.

He could either wait until the King was able to meet him, or he could immediately meet with the Hand…he wanted to return to Rhaenys, to the twins, to his granddaughters - they were meant to travel to Storm's End soon.

But Otto fucking Hightower…his biggest headache in politics (well before Rhaenyra had three bastards so unlike Laenor that it was practically political suicide - Gods he hope Aethan differed from his brother in tastes).

He’d give it a few days - surely the King’s health was not so dire that he was unable to attend any meetings - especially with a Lord as prestigious as Corlys Velaryon.

Court was…as it always was. The Hightower’s base of power grew stronger and more ingrained - he pitied Rhaenyra’s ascension, half the court held no love her, and even less love for her consort - it should have been Laenor. As if the marriage allegiance had not also come with the promise of a consort to the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms - it made his blood boil just thinking on it.

When he’d demanded her sign the abdications - she’d had the call to say she loved his son!

She’d sworn that she had not ordered his death - nor was he complicit in it - as if he were a fool that would believe her!

And even if it were true (which considering her actions in the immediate aftermath - he did not believe for a second), it meant she herself was a fool, for believing Daemon who undoubtedly did act under cloak and dagger.

Upon his return, he’d interviewed any he could on the matter, minds were scattered as he’d left it so many months - but there were still those that remembered and for the right amount of incentive they answered his demands for information.

Daemon had organised for a large sum of gold - remnants of Laena’s dowry gods be damned - to be moved into the backstabber Qarl Corry’s hands - there was also a Velaryon guardsman, Denys, that had gone missing in the immediate aftermath…never to be seen by his family ever again - likely assisting Corry in the deed and the escape - and an unscheduled ship had been on the quiet side of the island - not close enough to dock, but close enough for a smaller ship to row in an escape.

His son’s murderer and the conspirators were out there, escaping and living off of gold that he had earned and was meant for the protection and enjoyment of his children!

There was hell to pay for such a debt.

Either Rhaneyra was involved, or she chose to be blind to her husband’s treachery - either way he’d wash his hands of them when given the chance, they had custody of Baela and Rhaena now - the beginnings of restitution - but not enough to fully satisfy him.

He would wait - bide his time - he would put things to right, he had a duty to his wife, to their remaining children and grandchildren.

Otto Hightwoer had visited - smug shit that he was - hanging around, spewing the same niceties as his daughter but not half as prettily.

“Aegon is married now and may very well be expecting a son soon…” He’d let the sentence hand between them…it was not as if the thought had not occurred to Corlys.

He was - admittedly - an ambitious man…

Aegon was married and could be expecting a son within the year - considering that he’d encountered the drunk prince fondling a serving girl in the dark corners of the Keep late one night - he’d have no issues that Laenor had.

Aegon - a trueborn, firstborn son of the King - may yet have a trueborn firstborn son of similar age to his daughter…

It was everything he’d wanted as a younger man - his blood on the throne - his daughter in such an advantageous match - with power only surpassed by the King.

Then he thought of his promise to Rhaenys…to keep his children safe, protected, alive.

Besides, the King had not changed his mind in near twenty years and Aegon’s…general lack of anything…

If he was reading the undertones over the whispers in court correctly - there would be war upon Viserys’ death.

He had a choice between the woman that had either had a hand in killing his son (or had married the man that had organised the conspiracy) - or the unnamed heir that was - by his measure, rather useless and a puppet for Otto Hightower.

It wasn’t that he begrudged the boy his lusting indulgences - most men his age did so, Corlys himself had done so, and betrayed his own marriage vows. But the general lack of any decent quality…he was ill suited, a drunkard with no interest but where he might gain his next drink or next body for which to bury his cock.

May he grow out of it…possible…

Neither of Viserys’ children demonstrated any kind of reason for Corlys to support - there would remain a facade for his granddaughter’s sake - but he hated Daemon Targaryen, resented Rhaenyra Targaryen and was entirely unimpressed by Aegon Targaryen…Viserys son, though he would not love Daemon’s son either.

Besides nothing was certain yet - ‘a possible son’ had also been promised by Aemma Arryn for twenty years - Otto Hightwoer was making moves without knowing which pieces were at his disposal as yet - overconfident smarmy cunt.

It was five days before Viserys was deemed healthy enough for his visit.

The man did not look well, the sickness that had been obvious at his children’s funerals has worsened - his arm looking more akin to bone than flesh - whatever the Maesters were attempting was not working, and the stench of rotting flesh was not well hidden under the lavender oils that clung to his clothes.

He never should have been King - mayhaps this was the gods punishment for his usurpation of Rhaenys…the thought was comforting.

Otto was at his side, practically salivating as the meeting begun.

When he provided the documents Viserys had looked to him confused. “You cannot mean this Lord Corlys.”

He shuffled the documents around as if trying to rewrite what the ink clearly spelled out, “Think of your son Laenor. You were not the only one angered by the marriage but you cannot punish the children for their parent’s mistakes. Think of our grandchildren.”

Viserys’ appeal left Corlys unmoved - he was thinking of his children, of his grandchildren, no longer would Viserys and his line usurp his line, and continue to injure his beloved Rhaenys. “The insult was too great. If Rhaenyra wishes to rule she must understand there are consequences to her actions. This is the natural outcome for what she has done.”

Viserys looked pained, his breathing was staggered and laboured, “Corlys, surely there are other ways to resolve this situation. I could banish them from court or pay restitution, the coffers are full, I’m sure there would be some amount that could settle such hurt feelings. But to disinherit a child, Lucerys should sit in his father’s seat to honour his memory.”

Corlys bristled at the thought - as if money could make up for the loss of his children, the insult paid by the widow and widower - they pissed on their memory, he doubted they had ever attempted to honour the allegiance - he’d given so much and they’d taken without giving in return. “No your grace. The insult is too great, my son and daughter are dead, and they marry within the same week - as if our allegiance meant nothing. Had it been reversed, would you have sat idle as your daughter’s widower moved so quickly upon her death?”

Viserys coughed, his good arm covering his mouth, he could practically hear the sickness clinging to the man’s lungs. It appeared however the appeal to his love for his daughter had moved something within the king. “I cannot defend what they have done, but you seek to punish innocent parties. Our grandchildren - surely you cannot in good conscience act so callously against them.”

Corlys raised his head proudly, he would not be guilted by a man who had such little ability to control his family, that his daughter insulted an allegiance he himself had writ into existence, and yet he does nothing.

Otto Hightower looked like the can that had claimed the canary, “Unless of course you can think of another legitimate reason why they should not inherit my Lord.” His emphasis on the word legitimate seemed to go over Viserys’ head, but it was a rather obvious inflection to Corlys’ ears, “As Lord of your own holdings, it is rather unusual to undermine traditional inheritance law, a first born son, and trueborn line, followed by a second born son.” The unsaid digs, at both Viserys’ own decision, and at Rhaenyra’s bastards were clear.

“House Velaryon needs no gold, not a punishment of temporary banishment that will be lifted on a whim. Their marriage is a permanent insult, so the remedy must be permanent in turn. It is my own house, just as you have determined your own matters of inheritance, house Velaryon will see to its own. Your daughter and your brother have insulted our house and publicly humiliated our allegiance, Aethan shall be named as my heir, even Rhaenyra herself has admitted her own folly and agreed to the restitution.”

Viserys took on a look of constipated annoyance - he truly had little standing when it came to honouring inheritance traditions, his daughter remained his heir despite having three trueborn sons - he knew there was little he could say against Corlys’ words - he remained King however, he could choose to become a hypocrite and meddle with the inheritance of other Lords, losing him standing in the eyes of the court, and unrest within the realm. Corlys would not be against using such tactics against the weak King.

He was a man that likes getting his own way - Kingship had ensured this - but he knew the power of house Velaryon, not as strong as house Targaryen, but enough to make him listen, enough to prevent his forcing the subject. Besides, he had admitted Rhaenyra and Daemon’s insult, Rhaneyra had admitted her insult, and Daemon had paid for the insult by warding both of his daughters.

“You speak as if the allegiance is over, our grandsons live, Jacaerys will be king, Lucerys should be Lord of the Tides after you. You should not act rashly in anger.” Viserys once more appealed, on behalf of his grandsons.

“And what of the Queen’s consort? You expect us to forget that part of the pact? As if your brother has not inserted himself into the place that was owed to Laenor - to sit in a place of power that you had kept him from all these years?” Corlys gritted his teeth, as he spoke, he wanted justice but could not ask for it, Viserys was a weak king, yet he protected his brother and daughter no matter what it cost him, such an accusation would see his head mounted on the walls.

Viserys seemed to deflate at his words - it had been no secret that his naming Rhaenyra heir had not originally been his desire - but to keep Daemon from power and Kingship had been the original goal - no matter how it has warped, Daemon was not the king of temperament for ruling - Viserys knew that all these years, and yet he let his daughter marry him without consequences.

“You would truly take Lucerys’ rights for the actions of his mother, nothing will sway you?” His voice croaked and he looked more akin to an old decrepit man than a king.

Corlys gestured to the documents, “I would not name my heir on a whim.” Throwing Viserys’ words back in his face.

Viserys looked tired as he looked at the documents, “I will sign them…”

Corlys grinned.

“I will sign them after a year has passed. Your anger rules you and you must consider the harm done to our innocent grandchildren. I will consider proper punishments for Daemon and Rhaenyra, but what's done is done - we cannot change their marriage, her son Aegon is here and I would not harm his standing either. If you remain unsatisfied in a year's time, I will sign and enforce the abdications if that remains your demand.”

Corlys clenched his fists in firstation, a lot of things could happen in a year, Viserys could keel over and Rhaenyra could refuse to honour the documents.

“Your grace…” He gritted out -

“That is all that will be said on the matter. We have time to determine a better way to heal the rift between our families.” Viserys waved him away, clearly exhausted by the meeting.

“You shall come to dine with us, and we can discuss other options, you have a new son and daughter afterall, mayhaps another royal match will heal the hurts.”

Otto Hightower had looked at him knowingly, gave a small bow to the head and followed the king out, a final message on his lips, “A royal match with my own children or grandchildren could sway your allegiance.”

Corlys wanted to punch the cunt.

---

Helaena Targaryen was married now.

She did not like it overmuch, but considering the marriage she watched between her parents…mayhaps she was not meant to.

Mostly Aegon just ignored her, except when he’s drunk…then he’d flop around and grunt a bit, and then fall asleep on top of her and she’d roll him off and go have a bath because she didn't like the wetness of his seed or sweat, or just the feeling of his hands…or anyone’s hands really…sometimes her mother’s were kind, or Aemond would hold her hand, or Ser Criston…but touching felt…loud? Loud didn’t seem the correct word, but she did not know what other word to use. Could touch be loud?

Other people didn’t have this problem, they would touch, seek it out, Aegon teased her because apparently he thought touch was the most wonderful way to feel connected to people…but he didn’t understand that she felt wholly unconnected to people.

She was…odd…very odd. She wished she wasn’t, she wished the world was not so loud, or bright, or angry and touchy and coarse. She wanted everything to be quiet and smooth as a spider’s silk.

Her oddities made people avoid her…though she avoided people too because their were loud and they liked touching, and talking and saying things that had secrets Helaena had never puzzled out - she wasn’t stupid, no matter what Aegon said she wasn’t stupid - she was good at learning the histories and languages and numbers…she was very good at numbers - and of course learning about insects.

Still…it would be nice to be normal…To not have dreams that haunted the future, watching the threads, Hand turns loom, spooling threads of green, threads of black…and recently of blue, twisting away at a tapestry detailing a dance with a Stranger…twisting and twirling and…burning, threads caught fire and she;d never seen the end of the dream - never learned which thread survives the other…

She hoped they all do, tapestries were nicer when they had all the colours intact, if it were just one colour then there was no story to be seen, just a field of black or green…or blue. Better they join together to make a lovely picture.

She wanted her dreams to be like the other girls that mother insisted she spend time with…about normal things like songs and gallant knights and gentle husbands…the songs were lies, the knights were cruel and husbands were selfish.

She dreamed of fire and blood…and falling.

She wanted to be like the other girls, she wanted to have a bond…like sisters, with someone that understood and didn’t mind how odd she was.

Mother tried, but she had to because she was mother.

Aemond tried, but he was so busy with his studies and fighting and being angry at the world - besides, he was a boy, he didn’t understand what it was like to be a girl in a world made for boys…though mayhaps he knew more than most, as he was a cripple in a world made for men that were whole.

The only one that she didn’t have to feel odd around was Dreamfyre. The only touch that was rough that felt the right kind of rough was Dreamfyre. Her dragon, her scaled friend, was rough to the touch but like it was grounding, which was funny because she could fly with Dreamfyre.

She wanted to have people that understood her, at least a little bit.

She’d thought…maybe Rhaenyra might, she was a princess and a daughter and a dragonrider, but Rhaenyra never liked her, she kept away from mother and was busy being a mother herself…she sometimes wished things were different, and she had a sister she could confide in…but Rhaenyra wasn;t like her, she was normal, and wanted by their father, and she was heir so she matters and Helaea was just…odd. Besides Rhaenyra did not like her, or her brothers, or her mother…which didn’t make sense because mother was so gentle, and she listened even when she wasn’t interested, and she made sure Helaena could wear soft silks that didn’t make her skin itch or feel too…loud.

Helaena didn’t understand people.

When Lord Corlys Velaryon had been invited to dine with the family she’d been content to be ignored. He looked…coiled like a stalking spider…she didn’t understand why he was tense…it was just supper.

Her father spoke of things, his important daughter, his beloved brother, she tried to keep up but she had the distinct feeling the emphasis on certain words meant something…like when lady Melara Stokeworth said things about her insects and Aemond would drag her away and say that it wasn’t nice to insult a princess…not that Helaena had heard any insults, it wasn’t like she’d said any vulgar words.

Her grandfather inserted himself several times…sometimes she picked up on his unspoken words, he had more unspoken words than anyone else so it had been necessary to learn, like how he had praised her on her wedding day and said he looked forward to watching her flower…she didn’t look forward to it, flowers and seeds subtle ways of saying there was coming babes…he said motherhood made women happy - then why was her mother so miserable?

Her father seemed to be in a…conciliatory mood? Sahe never spent much time with him, she wasn't the beloved daughter so he was harder to read than most in her immediate circle.

It was her grandfather that brought up the possibility of wardship. “A way to consolidate house Targyaryen’s strong link with house Velaryon.”

Father had been pleased by the possibility, though Lord Corlys looked ready to refuse. “My granddaughters are already fulfilling this role, their presence is a renewal of the friendship between our great houses.”

She’d watched them ague…grandfather was of the opinion that someone unrelated to Lord Colrys should also fulfil the role, and Lord Corlys was content with just his granddaughters…

As Helaena thought of her cousins, a thought occurred to her…mayhaps they would understand her better. They were Targayrens and dragonriders…or at least Baela was, and they knew what it was like to be pieces rather than players, like threads rather than looms.

Mayhaps…it would be like having sisters.

So she offered herself as ward.

The whole conversation had stopped and Helaena had the distinct impression she had just broken the loom and ripped out the threads.

Grandfather and mother were resolutely against it, Aegon laughed so hard he fell off his chair, and Lord Corlys had looked at her with a contemplative expression.

Mother spoke, “Helaena sweetling, you are a wife now, your duties remain here, with Aegon.”

Aegon had risen from his place on the floor looking entirely undignified, “If it's my permission that's needed I give it freely. - at least one of us should get the chance to be happy.” He’d then reached for his glass and saluted her before drinking deeply…he’d never done that before but…it felt like maybe…like for once they were on the same side of something rather than just Aegon teasing her.

Lord Corlys leaned back on his chair and surprisingly agreed. “She's of similar age to my granddaughters, it would make sense - and if her husband is in agreement, I believe it would be a step in reconciliation.”

Her father had readily agreed, Aegon laughing the whole time, while mother kept trying to sway father away from the wardship, offering Aemond, Daeron, even Aegon. Her grandfather looked like he'd been gutted...rather odd considering he was not a fish.

It hurt a little that her mother thought her incapable of being of service to their house, was she so incapable that she could not be trusted with a wardship?

Besides…it might be nice, and she’d be away from court, and from Aegon’s drunken touches and the quiet unspoken secrets that hid in words she could never understand.

And Baela and Rhaena might be like having sisters…having someone that understood what it was like to not quite fit.

That would be nice.

Lord Corlys looked down at her, brow furrowed…she wasn’t certain if it was frustration, or confusion or contemplation, but she’d have time to figure that out, she was to be a ward on Driftmark.

Chapter Text

Princess Helaena Targaryen was to be a guest of House Velaryon for the next year, Rhaenys did not know whether she should feel glad for the lack of push back by her cousin, or insulted by his laughable attempt at managing the growing discontent within their family.

She should be honoured - to host three daughters of House Targaryen, one being a Princess of the Realm - to anyone else it would be a great honour.

It was only an attempt to bind their family, to push for old wounds to be forgotten by bestowing such great honours upon their House, as if it would ever make her forget her son and her daughter.

The girl arrived on dragonback, Dreamfyre, her aunt’s dragon once, now this slip of a girl who’d shown little personality beyond finding the quest corners of the Red Keep and hiding there - her aunt Rhaena was said to have been different in temperament, though Rhaenys had been born after her aunt’s death, she had ended up feeling a kinship with the woman, a woman that, had things been different, might have been queen, or birthed queens herself.

Mayhaps history had a way of rhyming, in another life mayhaps Helaena would become queen and birth kings and princes and princesses - had anyone other than Viersy’s been king, Aegon would have been named heir the day he was born - and Helaena’s marriage to the boy…cruel as it may be considering the boy’s temperament - it would have otherwise ensured her future.

Viserys had not done that. In fact he had yet to truly secure any of his children’s futures in truth. He may think making the Lords of the realm swear to Rhaenyra near twenty years prior would ensure their loyalty, but years made oaths malleable in the minds of sons that did not feel beholden to uphold their father’s oaths, and Aegon had since been born, Rhaenyra’s greatest threat to her succession and Viserys had done nothing to reaffirm her status beyond the occasional smarting words to a few unsettled lords - hardly the same as seeing them return to gives oaths of fealty. Viserys had not even properly taught his daughter the ways to ruling, he did not have her sit the Council, he did not have her engaging with her Lords, ensuring there would be good rapport, the rapport she should have had with House Velayron was shattered beyond repair, he did not have her rule in his stead whilst his illness had him spend longer and longer away from court. - In truth, Viserys had failed his eldest daughter and heir rather spectacularly.

Aegon - useless as he seemed to be - had no reason to make use of himself, he had no lands, nor prospects to gain them now that he’d been married to his sister, he had no coin beyond what was given to him, and no power beyond status as his father’s son - a status that would for most men be considered humiliating as the firstborn son, but not heir to the throne…in some ways, Rhaenys understood Aegon’s lack, while she had pushed to perfection when she had been her father’s heir, she knew while her father adored her, he would have named her a brother heir had the gods granted her one - to not do so would have been…crippling to such a son, and so it had likely in part crippled Aegon, though for all she had seen from him, it would not have taken much to cripple such an indolent, hedonistic layabout - but mayhaps he wouldn’t have been so if he had held even an ounce of his father’s interest.

Helaena…well he’d married her off to a lecherous drunkard - her brother albeit, but it was no kindness to his second daughter. It was baffling, she remembered Corlys’ frustration upon Rhaenyra’s tour to seek a suitor, Corlys of course believing it was just another way to slight house Velaryon as her best option was, at least if all were to have gone as planned, her best option. Of course Corlys had taken years to come to terms with Laenor’s true nature, he’d believed at the time Laenor would have been Rhaenyra’s best option, and that the King did not take into his hands the vital decision as to whom should marry his heir and instead grant his heir the rights - well it meant to possibilities, either he was a King that believed he had raised his daughter to pick a strong option for herself that would back her claim and also be fulfilling enough to agree to marriage, or that Viserys was indulgent and would overlook a bad match out of love for his daughter - of course this had not come to pass, but it also spoke volumes that his younger daughter was not given even half the opportunities to decide her own fate, and been married off to a brother that was…not any daughter’s dream when she thought of a husband. Of course, Helaena’s claiming of Dreamfyre might have tipped the scale into ensuring she married within the family, giving a dragon to a house outside of Targaryon was dangerous - Rhaneys suspected in part this was why Daemon had pursued Laena, to reclaim a dragon for house Targaryen. But Helaena had other brothers, Aemond or Daeron could have been options for the girl, though a little out of tradition, considering who Viserys had named heir, that he would stick to it to the detriment of one daughter while abandoning it for another…yes Rhaenys pitied Helaena Targaryen.

Aemond…the boy may yet have prospects for marriage, though the loss of an eye - well no one liked a cripple - not even a prince cripple…and while not as prospect destroying had it been a woman, but being ugly was never good when seeking a match. Why Viserys thought, considering the ill feeling in particular between Aemond and Rhaenyra and Lucerys, that he had not considered organising a match for Aemond away from court Rhaenys did not know, though considering that specific tactic had been attempted to be used on Daemon with Rhea Royce and it had not ended well…she could see though, Aemond as Vhagar’s rider, would be a danger if left unchecked, and Viserys was intent allow everyone their own indulgences - no matter the repercussions. Aemond may very well end up as politically disastrous as his uncle Daemon, and it would be due to Viserys’ neglect.

Daeron…like his older brothers, had even fewer prospects, third born sons were never lucky in that - Vaegon had been her grandparents third born son that had survived the cradle, and while his temperament had meant he likely would have always ended up amongst quiet corners and books in a place like the Citadel, it did speak volumes that he Jaeherys had decided to send his son to the maesters, showing that even kings struggled to find a place for a third son. Daeron…she knew little of the boy, only that he had claimed Tessarion at the end of the celebrations of his older brother and sister’s wedding some short months ago. He’d have been young, a boy of ten claiming a dragon, it spoke to a daring kind of nature, though that he had not pushed for a larger dragon to claim, like Vermathor or Silverwing, spoke that he may yet be tempered. Undoubtedly the claiming would have done wonders for his eligibility as a potential partner, third son or not, dragon power was undeniable - she’d known it, her grandparents Jaeherys and Alysane had known it, and Aegon the Conqueror had perfected it. - Still…none of this was Viserys’ doing, he had sent his boy off the Oldtown at earliest opportunity.

Her cousin had truly made a mess of his household, and of his family - part of her wished Jaeherys would have seen it, to know what his shirking of tradition had wrought in naming Viserys heir instead of her. She had long since come to terms with her situation, but that did not mean she could not dream of seeing his horror, and revelling in it - it was the Baratheon in her.

She watched as her granddaughters regarded Helaena, a general lack of cheer or warmth in the air. While Rhaenys would do her duty and see Helaena guided, it did not mean her granddaughters would welcome the girl.

She knew, of course she knew, that Daemon had no love for the children of Hightowers - he’d always hated them, and that terrible night that seemed a lifetime ago and yet yesterday all at once, where blood had been spilt in her halls, as if a warning of what would happen to her dear boy soon after.

Her granddaughters had been distraught, Vaghar, a creature that had been synonymous with Laena, with their mother, with comfort and strength and freedom - taken by a brash and entitled boy.

Dragon’s weren’t things to own, they weren’t possessions to inherit, but to act as Aemond had, on a night that was meant for mourning, for the memory of her dear Laena - for him to steal away and act as he had…

Stupid foolhardy and entitled - same as most boys could be, Targaryen’s more so than most. In her mind she could acknowledge that he was a child, but her heart would have her mother’s fury, wanting to hold on to the grudge against the disrespect shown to her dearest Laena - two things could be true at once, as was the nature of the mind and heart.

Aemond should have been punished by his parents and that should have been the end of it - Rhaenys acknowledged as much as she hated his actions, they were the actions of an impulsive child, likely not intending the slight to a woman he had met mayhaps once or twice in his earliest years.

She did resent him over it, resented the rest of her farcical Targaryen family for their reactions - her daughter was dead, and none seemed to grieve her, treated her funeral like an inconvenience to attend - Daemon abandoning his daughters to her care, Rhaenyra’s eyes had followed Daemon that whole day instead of standing by her husband’s side, instead of acting as the friend she had claimed to be to him. Viserys, addled by illness had seemed more exhausted than anything, and his younger children had not cared beyond a few practised words that their mother had undoubtedly trained into them.

What kind of family acts so unfeeling at the death of one of its daughters?

Velaryon she may have been, but she was born half Targaryen, and she raised two more Targaryens, married a Targaryen, and lived as a dragon rider.

Yes, she resented her family’s reaction her dearest Leana’s death and the day of her funeral.

She could also acknowledge the loss of an eye was not an equitable exchange nor punishment - grudge in her heart all the same she knew he had given more than a child should have for an act of impulsiveness - more importantly, blood should never be spilled in a Lord’s home.

Not when guest right and honour was at stake

Worse too, the fact the one drawing the blood was a Velaryon by name - and had duties to keep the peace and uphold the rights of a guest in High Tide’s halls.

He was a boy, young Lucerys - a child, still learning the world and his place in it.

Yet spilling a guest’s blood in what was meant to one day be his halls - child or not, the gods would not care for youth when the duties set out were tarnished - this was the cruel world they lived in.

She understood her granddaughter’s hesitance, avoiding the sister of the boy that had insulted their mother’s memory. Avoiding the girl that was the daughter of a Hightower. Avoiding the girl that seemed to studiously avoid company herself.

It was…a realisation - that Rhaenys was the eldest Targaryen living, furthermore a Targaryen woman who now had a year to guide and protect three other Targaryen girls - three girls that did not have the protections of being their father’s heir.

Of course she’d blessedly get more time with her granddaughters, and they would always be her priority, but it was clear that Helaena had not been her father’s priority, and while it was possible that Queen Alicent had raised Helaena well (though considering her elder two sons it was in doubt), Alicent Hightower had not been born to royalty, she did not know the inherent pressures and responsibilities that came with carrying royal blood, the blood of the dragon and the legacy of Valyria that would never reach such heights again. Rhaenys had a year to held guide the girl, insult though Viserys’ decision may have been, Rhaenys would not throw the girl to the madness of the world now she had been entrusted with her care. Technically as a guest, Helaena was not a ward, education was not needed or expected - but she was a girl, she was only four and ten, wedded and bedded but a girl all the same.

Of the Targaryen woman alive Rhaneys was the one that had lived both experiences, Rhaenyra’s added luxuries and privileges were once, in part, her own - though Rhaneys had certainly never acted so brazenly. But once her father had passed, and she was regaled to only the power afforded to a wife of a Lord, even a Lord as powerful as Corlys - the power was not fully her own, and Baela, Rhaena and Helaena would all grow to face the realities of having no true power beyond what they could guide their husband and of course as Targaryens they may have the privilege of a dragon’s power, but there was a dearth of difference between being married to the liege ruler of a land, and being the liege themselves.

Baela may yet marry a boy that would…mayhaps be king. She was not blind to Daemon’s ambitions, he had managed through his treachery to murder her beloved Laenaor, managed to ensure that his blood would sit the Iron Throne, whether through a match between Baela and Jacerys or through young Aegon. No match had been publicly announced, but it was doubtless Daemon’s plan, and Rhaenyra could get no better match than Baela, a dragonrider, daughter of a Targaryen and Velaryon, and a father that would overlook Jacerys’ Strong looks.

It would likely place Baela in danger, Rhaneyra’s blunders placing more of her blood in danger…how to circumvent this danger, Rhaneys did not know.

Rhaneys and Corlys’ moves to name Aethan heir had likely placed a knot in the line that would name Lucerys lord of Driftmark - and the match Dameon and Rhaenyra had likely been contemplating as a ‘kindness’ to see Laena’s blood inherit Driftmark but through the position of consort (an insult if Rhaenys had ever seen one) - now such a plan was ruined. What Rhaena’s fate would become, Rhaneys could only guess, but to marry her to a bastard boy with no lands of his own, it would be a waste to give her hand when it could win Daemon and Rhaenyra allies that they had spent years alienating.

One year. One year until the world would see Aethan’s claim acknowledged. One year to teach the malleable daughters of house Targaryen.

Baela had flaunted off, nose upturned proudly as she moved to go to her sword lessons. What Corlys would make of Baela’s new lessons Rhaenys could imagine his surprise and likely indulgent amusement, all it would take was to see her in one lesson, stern frown as she dedicates herself to martial training and he’d see that it was worthwhile, woman or not, Baela had twice the heart of many of the boys that trained in the yard, and twice the discipline, what she would end up lacking in physical strength and size, she could make up with speed and stamina - Rhaenys was not blind to the constraints of a woman’s body, but that did not mean they had to be limited to walks around gardens and childbirth, a dragonrider’s greatest ally when training on a dragon was core strength that could only be build up with hard work and determination which Baela had in droves and could only benefit her swordplay.

Rhaena, no one to abandon her sister’s lead, left Helaena as well, running after her sister to cheer her on though she had immediately refused the opportunity to join, she had decided to be her sister’s greatest support instead - form a distance she had said with a scrunched nose and grimace as she’d seen the sweat and mud her sister had ended up being covered in upon her first lesson. By the Gods she loved her granddaughters so much, Leana would be so proud.

Leaving Rhaneys alone with Helaena. The letter that Corlys had sent her with had been unsubtly in his frustration. His only joy from the entire situation was that it had tampered with Otto Hightower’s machinations as he undoubtedly was waiting on Helaena to fall pregnant so he could begin puppeteering another Targaryen and have an heir, a son of a son of a king, King Jaeherys’s greatest dream.

They would not let Viserys’ fostering of Helaena onto them intercede with their plans and ally making. Corlys was to return within the week, and then they would sail to the Stormlands, making brief port at the northern shores of Tarth before sailing east to set upon the shores north east of Shipbreaker Bay, Corlys may have sailed those treacherous waters on his many journeys, but Rhaneys wasn’t going to risk the lives of her twins or her granddaughters - there was a small port village called merrowshore on the eastern lands of House Buckler that was mostly frequented by ships from Tarth, Rhaenys had already sent word to Lady Jena Buckler the dowager Lady of House Buckler of their intended arrival, she’d been one of Rhaenys’ handmaidens before their respective marriages, and a true friend, although the years had certainly parted them from their familiarity, it grieved Rhaenys to know that they would be meeting again after they had each faced losses, Jena losing her husband to a hunting accident, and Rhaenys of course losing her beloved elder children - mayhaps a revisiting of her friendships of her youth may remind her how to live, and how to be young considering she had so many young folk around her.

Jena had written in turn, her eldest daughters were married with children of their own, her eldest son was ruling the Buckler lands as was his duty, but Jena and her four younger children would join them on their journey between Merrowshore to Storms End. Of Jena’s children, two were near in age to Baela and Rhaena and another close to Helaena’s age, it would give the children a companion on the road, and mayhaps once at Storm's End, more friendships could be made with Lord Borros’ daughters.

The trip by land would take four days with the requisite carriages and attendants and Rhaenys had no doubt that Corlys would complain the whole time, but it would do him good to focus on these moments they would have with their children and grandchildren, they’d learnt the hard way that they were finite and fleeting.

It would do her granddaughters well to see some of the world, the gods knew that so few women got to see much of it. It would do Rhaenys well to see her mother’s girlhood lands once more, to recall the stories of the Durrandon and remember that not all of her kin were spineless cowards or insipid liars that spat on the memory of her children.

It would likely do Helaena good too, if her memory served, the girl would have only travelled out of King's Landing to attend the deathbed and then funeral of Alicent’s grandmother, the old withered fox Florent that had birthed two men that Corlys grown to hate and she certainly felt no great love for house Hightower, though the woman had lived during the times of Aegon the Conqueror - gods if her sons have the same longevity it may very well drive her Corlys into an early grave.

She knew her own beloved grandaughters had not visited any parts of Westeros beyond Driftmark and Dragonstone, and they should see more of the world, more of their great-grandmother’s lands, whilst they were Targaryen, they were also Velaryon, and part Bartatheon, and therefore part Durrandon - Rhaenys loved her husband, but his name was not all there was, nor was any other man’s name, the female line mattered as well, no matter how men sought to have such things forgotten, in her blood lay the bloodlines of kings, ironically her mother’s kin had greater claim to royalty than her father’s - it was time she remember this, and it was time her children and grandchildren remembered this as well.

She was watching each year, the damage done to Rhaenyra’s reputation, isolating herself from court, from her Liege Lords, from the people. How was to rule the people if she did not know them? If she continued to isolate and insult them?

Targaryen’s often saw themselves as the exception, and in earnest, Rhaenys had fallen for the lie, but tragedy and sorrow, and a reminder of her mortality and fallibility woke her from this mindset.

It was time to face reality, difficult as it may be, if she did not, her son and daughter, Laena’s daughters - her whole family may be in danger. To forget the power of the people you seek to rule a fools work - Aegon may have Conquered with dragons but Maegor near lost the throne with dragons, and it was because the people had acted together, instead of conquering seven separate kingdoms, Aegon had combined them into one, making the fist of the people that much stronger, and the conquered kingdoms were united, for better or for worse under house Targayren, and a fool would forget that they could rise as one against House Targaryen.

Dragons were not infallible - her own father’s death was proof of this.

To keep her family safe, from Rhaenyra’s machinations, from Otto Hightower’s machinations, and form Viserys’s foolishness - they’d need to court the people.

She’d court the entire even kingdoms, and even the free cities if it meant her family’s safety.

They’d start with her kin first. Start at someplace that could feel something like a mother’s love, for though she had lived decades without both her parents, now more than ever did she wish she had more time with them.

At least they may be looking after Laena and Laenor in her stead, whatever heavens they would have found themselves in, it was a comfort that they would be together.

Rhaneys moved to speak with Helaena, the girl would need to understand their immediate plans for travel and then mayhaps Rhaneys could gauge what education was provided by her parents, Daemon had been lax in some areas for Baela and Rhaena and they’d been exceptional in others, Helaena had never struck Rhaenys as any kind of sharp mind, and even if education wasn’t expected of this year’s hosting, there would be no harm in seeing the girl be given some guidance - mayhaps in the least dragon riding education would do her good, Dreamfyre was the second oldest dragon in the world and likely not the most malleable when it comes to rider - Viserys would have been little help having only ridden Balerion once and stumbled off the monstrous black dread whiter than his hair and eyes wider than saucers - she should have known then the kind of craven he was.

Yes, she’d help Helaena in what way she could, mayhaps help the girls grow together, there would be no harm in courting the friendship of the rider of Dreamfyre - besides, as far as Rhaenys was concerned the succession was entirely uncertain, Helaeana herself may end up queen one day, loathe as she did Aegon, mayhaps if one of the two were decent, then mayhaps Westeros would survive - Rhaenyra and Daemon after all…kinslayers and backstabbers.

There was much to do.

Chapter Text

Helaena was not certain if she had made a mistake or not, in offering to go to the Velaryons in the place of one of her brothers. On one hand, Aegon was not here, and he would not be drunk and awful and make Helaena feel like her body was even less her own than it normally felt - but on the other hand, Baela and Rhaena did not like her and were determined to make it quite clear.

It was…in truth not so much different from the other girls at court, she had never been able to connect with the elegant ladies that always had a quick wit and words to say, they were not interested in her insects or minibeasts, and while some humoured her when she spoke of her beloved Dreamfyre, because a beast such as that may yet be interesting, they were more interested in what it felt like to fly, or command fire, not the beloved creature that felt like Helaena’s truest friend.

It seemed she did not belong anywhere, not even with other Targaryen women.

Coming to stay with the Velaryons meant she did not even have her mother, or ser Criston to seek out, no one here knew her oddities, there was no one to organise hot baths, or quiet rooms, or soft sheets of particular make and quality that did not make her skin itch.

Here with the Velayrons, she was just a guest, well treated but not welcome.

Princess Rhaenys tried, she had ensured the problem with the sheets was fixed once Helaena had been brave enough to ask. She spoke with her at meals, even when Baela and Rhaena studiously ignored her.

It was a lot to get used to.

And once more everything would change again.

Now they were all headed to Storm's End, to visit Princess Rhaenys’s maternal kin.

She could return to King's Landing, either for the duration of their trip, or mayhaps permanently; her mother had certainly expressed a wish for her to not leave at all the day she had flown to Driftmark nearly two weeks ago.

But father would be disappointed - and he was already generally disappointed with her…at least as far as Helaena could tell. He must be disappointed in her, for why else would he care so little for her?

She didn’t want to be her parents’ disappointment; she knew she did not fit anywhere, so much as she wished she did, she did not. But that did not mean she did not want to feel helpful.

She was different, and she wished, mayhaps for once she may be normal. Attending the Velaryons…well she was not entirely unhappy - being her meant she wasn’t in the Red Keep - Aegon wasn’t…expecting her to perform her wifely duties, and grandfather wasn’t insisting they had babes, and mother wasn’t around looking altogether miserable, she didn’t have to walk by the training yards and see Aemond training with a rage she feared would lead to his ruin.

Driftmark itself, away from court, away from her family…shameful as it was…she felt lighter.

Besides, she now had the chance to see some parts of the world.

Helaena would attend Storms End, she would be the first Targaryen of the King’s direct line to attend Storms End since Princess Rhaenys, the daughter of Jocelyn Baratheon was disinherited.

She’d read some of the Maester records of the Great Council, that House Baratheon had been a large supporter and advocate of Princess Rhaneys, and that Lord Orys had been bitter and angry at his cousin’s disinheritance - claiming it an insult to tradition, to law, and a dismissal of House Baratheon’s daughters, and an insult to the friendship between Targaryen and Baratheon houses.

She had a duty to uphold, to represent the Crown…her father…she was mayhaps not the best person for the duty, but her mother and grandfather had always spoken of the importance of duty and honour and how these things bind the realm together, just as the gods intended. She would do her best to comfort herself in a manner befitting a princess…and mayhaps see some new little creatures and insects that favour the Stormland climate - such a thought was almost…exciting.

Baela was adamant to avoid her, she did not even have the pretence of the ladies at court with words that had hidden japes and underlying meanings that would have Aemond snarling or mother giving tight retorts when she’d pick at her fingers. Baela had stated plainly, she did not like Helaena, or any of Helaena’s full siblings, and she wanted Helaena to be as far from her and Rhaena as possible, because they did not associate with kin of thieves.

Helaena thought it rather sad, and in truth a little silly. They were all kin, and Aemond was no thief, not unless Princess Rhaenys was a thief, or Prince Daemon, or even the Lady Laena, for none had claimed the dragon of a parent, for dragons were not items to inherit, but creatures to bond and befriend. Rhaena had the same opportunity as Aemond, that she did not take the opportunity was her own fault.

Aemond would have likely claimed her Dreamfyre had she not been so swift - ever glad she was to have claimed her truest friend, it was mayhaps the first time in her life Helaena had acted knowing her mother and brother would be disappointed - but she had to, Dreamfyre was…Dreamfyre was…she was Helaena’s greatest joy - sometimes only joy - she needed her fierce friend, and so she had acted.

It was mayhaps unfair, Rhaena was grieving her mother at the time - still grieving her mother even now…but Helaena had realised that this world was not fair, and sometimes you had to let things go, Helaena had long since let go of the hope that her father might treasure her as he did her elder sister - some hopes were crushing enough to not hold tight.

Helaena’s mother said that they must have faith in the gods, and hope for the future, for it was hope in a time of hopelessness which kept her going…Helaena could not agree, for hope, when unfounded hurt.

Helaena had hoped she might find family among her cousins, girls that were not heirs to anything…how foolish she could be.

Rhaena, in her interaction with Helaena, was less…hostile. She still followed her sister’s lead and was timid and reticent in her dealings with Helaena, but at least she didn’t scowl and glare any time Helaena entered a room.

They were travelling via ship, meaning Baela was glaring a great deal, Helaena wondered quietly to herself as she remembered Ser Rickard Thorne’s comments about frowns becoming permanent when the wind changed, was in any way true.

If it were, mayhaps she should warn Baela, that her pretty face may get stuck, and people seemed to think it was easy to be mean to ugly people.

Helaena…did not like travelling by ship. She much preferred Dreamfyre. She did not feel ill when flying, but the rocking of the ship made her headache and her stomach roll, the maids attending the babes Aethan and Jocelyn had also taken to tending her as she retched repeatedly - drooling worse than babes - thank the gods they would travel the rest of the way by land - her mother would be mortified if she arrive in Storms End in her state. She had barely travelled at all, once to Old Town to farewell Daeron for his warding, and once before to Driftmark which had also been on dragonback - for the funeral…funerals.

Travelling might be…nice. It was likely her only opportunity to do so, her husband was now the one charged with her protection and affairs, and as much as she did care for her brother…for he was her brother…she knew it would not occur to him to take her with him should he ever choose to travel. Her Father never travelled, his health ailing…mayhaps when her mother was a widower and they could travel together, for a dowager queen must have some resources available…but by then everyone expected Helaena to be a mother, and her duty will be to her children, rather than any whimsical childish desire to see some of the world.

Best to take this opportunity, despite her misgivings, despite her unhappy company - despite her ill humours and unsettled stomach.

Lord Corlys had said it happened to the best of men, and that her sickness simply meant she was not meant to be a sailor - she heartily agreed with his assessment.

Baela and Rhaena he took out at night, she overheard them talking of the stars and the stories their grandfather told…she felt a pang of envy, wishing her grandfather would tell her such marvellous stories instead only teaching of honour and duty and reminding her of her duties which she felt entirely unable to live up to.

Mayhaps if her other grandfather had lived, mayhaps duty and honour were more considerations of the Andals, and her Valyrian kin were less concerned with such things…her father certainly spent more time interested in his histories and model of Valyria than actually caring about his duties, so mayhaps is was a clashing of cultures.

Though Princess Rhaenys still insisted on lessons and learning. She allowed Baela to train with a sword…like Queen Visenya…but lessons none the less.

Mayhaps…mayhaps the world was just different for different people. Some people cared a great deal for honour and duty, some people cared a great deal for stories and history, and odd people like Helaena cared about insects and dragons.

Sometimes Helaena needed to remind herself, that it was best sometimes to just let things go.

Because if she didn’t…if she held tight to her fears and anxieties…to her dreams…mayahps she’d go mad.

Helaena looked over to the twin Velaryon babes…in a trick of the light she saw twin babes, a boy and girl, with pale hair and pale skin near mirrored images of each other except for the silent tears on the girl’s face, and the ugly stitching on the boy’s neck as though his head had been…

Best to let things go, Helaena thought to herself.

---

Rhaenys carried her sweet little Aethan while Corly carried Jocelyn, stepping off the Sea Snake and onto docs. They were only spending the day and the night at Tarth’s port intending to sail at soon after dawn, a chance for the girls to see the Sapphire Isle, and a chance for Corlys to meet with Lord Cameron, though his health was now ailing him, and a chance to Rhaenys herself to see the place her beloved father had passed.

She no longer felt tears prick behind her eyes when she thought of her father, a daughter’s grief was shockingly shallow when compared to a mother’s, though her father had been one of the greatest men she’d ever known, kind, intelligent, strong and fierce.

He deserved better than his fate.

Tarth was beautiful - when most of the Stormlands were grassy plains, only changing into either the sandy dunes near Dorne or the rocky outcropping cornering the border of the Stormlands, the Reach and Dorne, an absolute hellhole of raids and skirmishes that would likely never end. But the Sapphire Isle lived up to its name, beautiful blue ocean, with cascading waterfalls and greenery.

A lovely place to die.

Corlys was looking forward to seeing Lord Cameron, they’d fought in the battle for Tarth which took her father, but Tarths location had also made it a necessary ally, and occasional supply destination during Corlys’ fighting in the Stepstones.

It had been where her dear foolish son had met his knight of kisses, Joffrey Lonmouth. Nothing brings two men together like fighting in a war, but Laenor had truly taken such a truth to heart. It was a mother’s nature to love her children, Laenor’s interests had been…difficult to accept in the beginning, it was not as if it was unheard of, men with other men, the brothels reportedly even had such services if you knew where to look, but coming to terms with the fact that Laenor was so disinterested in women to the point where he was unable to father children had been…distressing.

She had hoped, in spite of knowing his true nature, that he might swallow down his aversion and have children with Rhaenyra, even one would have solidified the allegiance and provided a clear heir for Driftmark in the least.

But she knew, when Viserys had arrived to barter the match, when Corlys had said their boy would change his mind - she knew he would not. It was some part of Laenor that ran deep. He would never change from his affection for men, and it had been a part of her son she had learned to accept, feared though she might, of the backlash he may receive, the way the Faith of the Seven would sooner see her son dead for his affections, the way his inability to sire heir had made him a cuckold and humiliation at court that, if Viserys’ had fancied, could have killed him, not only for his adultery, but for his sodomy, for the blame would never have fallen on his precious daughter.

She was…moving through her anger with Corlys. The birth of Jocelyn and Aethan had helped, but it was surprisingly Laena’s girls that had brought them together fully.

Corlys was…every bit the father they needed. He took them sailing, told them the stories of the sea, he accepted Baela’s swordplay with an indulgent smile, then laughed when she pushed the boys around in the courtyard and had yelled advice to better her standing or weighting against her opponents. He had even had the blacksmiths design a sword with a dragon and a seahorse on each side of the pommel, Baela had taken to carrying around on her hip with a skip to her step. Corlys even attended Rhaena’s dance lessons offering himself as a partner which she had to laugh at considering that he had always told her he had sea legs whenever she had asked him to dance.

Rhaena in particular looked at Corlys as if he hung the moon and stars. It was clear Daemon had not made such an effort with the girls, and Rhaenys was ever glad to have stolen them out from under him.

It was only fair, for he had stolen Laena first. But at least she and Corlys would see to their greatest joys and treasure them - Daemon…Daemon had not the kindness to treasure Laena as she was meant to be. Whether his treatment of her would have changed her fate, Rhaneys did not know, but Laena deserved better, and considering the girls’, particularly Rhaena’s fears and concerns surrounding abandonment - Rhaenys was beginning to question Daemon’s fathering abilities.

She would not deny his love for them, she had seen the anguish on his face as he had bade the girls farewell, knowing they would now be growing up in Driftmark, a short flight away and yet, a distance any parent would hate.

The resentful part of Rhaenys thought it not half enough pain - at least he knew his girls were alive and well, when he and Rhaenyra had plotted to end her beloved boy.

But Rhaena was clearly starved for attention, her lessons were behind Baela in some ways, particularly her High Valyrian. It was particularly frustrating because Rhaenys had been teaching Laena the grammatical rules of High Valyrian at the time when Daemon had whisked her halfway across the world - unable to finish her education. She knows if Laena had been confident in her High Valyrian she would have taught Rhaena. There were still similarities, both girls spoke the bastardised low Valyrian of the Pentoshi without issue, but Rhaena’s lack spoke to Daemon’s favouritism that made Rhaenys’ blood boil.

Rhaena felt ignored by her father- that was clear, and Baela, in a rippled effect, felt replaced by her new brother Aegon as Daemon’s favourite. It was infuriating, not only was he potentially hurting the girls with his favouritism, but he now had moved on to his more ‘perfect family’, one that had forgotten Laena so easily and disrespecting her memory by disrespecting her daughters.

The more she thought of her cousin, the more enraged by him she was.

He visited the girls as promised. He walked around her home as though he owned it. His reaction to Baela’s swordplay lessons had been a quizical brow raised and a barking laugh as he shrugged and said she had the fierceness of Visenya which was only fitting as she now had a younger brother named Aegon... likely an attempt to compliment his daughter but it was clear he saw the whole thing as more of a jape, which, when he hadn’t been looking, had sent Baela’s earnest and hopeful face turn to a frown.

Corly may not have expected Baela’s new lessons, but he hadn’t laughed when she had looked up at him seeking acceptance. Daemon had not said anything against the lessons at least - some Lords might question their ability to foster young ladies with Baela’s newfound lessons, but as long as their father did not argue, then Baela and Rhaena would remain in Driftmark, where they belonged.

Daemon was…annoying. He’d arrive for visits and insist on spending time with her, not just his daughters, but Rhaenys herself. He made a general nuisance of himself trying to have her reminisce with him about the ‘joyous occasions’ they’d shared together - as if some childhood joys could make her forget the many times Daemon and Viserys had shunted her aside, insulted her through their actions, and harmed her irrevocably in their harm done to her children.

Daemon was not half the diplomat he thought he was - cunning enough at least to note that the Velaryons were worthy allies, but fool enough to think making a nuisance of himself in his unsubtle attempts at building rapport was enough to make her forget what he’d done to her children. He was unpractised at it - he’d never had to work for anything in his life, assuming people would do as he said.

Rhaneys had known, ever since she realised her parents were not having any more children, that she would have to work for it. She would have to make allies, demonstrate her capabilities, and at the very least not insult powerful houses - and even then it had not been enough.

But it may yet be enough for her to keep the remainder of her family safe.

She was looking forward to this trip, a few weeks without her cousin shoving himself into their lives.

She greeted the acting lady of Tarth warmly, recognising the clear Eastermont roots of the woman, Cassana was the lady wife of Arlan Tarth, Lord Cameron’s heir, and the mother of four healthy sons, the youngest would likely be of age with her little babes. She would have taken on the role acting as the Lady as Lord Cameron’s wife had passed…when she could not recall - she had not paid close attention to the lives of the Stormlander Lords and Ladies - shameful - she once knew every acting Lord, Lady and their heirs by name, life had gotten in the way and she had gotten complacent in her diplomatic efforts. Rhaenys only knew Cassana distantly. Strange, seeing a woman that was of age with Laena…and they both carried around babes of their wombs.

Gods she missed Laena.

Corlys and Cameron talked as they walked, reminiscing of the great battles they fought in their youths, it was clear that Lord Camernon’s age was catching up with him, his breath became laboured as they climbed the stairs to Evenfall Hall, Rhaenys own breath had her handing off Aethan and leaning onto her husband for support.

Baela and Rhaena walked with wide excited eyes pointing at different parts of the village or docks, or even shoreline, both seemingly excited to be out and about, even just for a few hours.

Helaena trailed behind, occasionally staring very intensely as some innocuous detail…likely some creeping insect - odd did not begin to describe the child. Odd, gentle and harmless. Rhaenys would be annoyed by her disposition if she thought it an act, but if it were some mask for courtly games then the girl had mastered her art long before Rhaenys ever did - she was just so…odd.

Any thoughts of a blooming friendship between her granddaughters and the girl were wilting, Baela and Rhaena had not forgotten the night of their mother’s funeral - rightly so - but had misplaced blame of the girl that had nothing to do with her brother’s foolish actions. She would need to return to their lessons, it was dangerous to alienate a potential ally, and foolish to hold the actions of a child against Helaena, the people responsible were Aemond’s parents and the boy himself. The girls should not forget that Helaena was a dragonrider - a dragonrider that rode Dreamfyre, the second largest living tameable dragon - for none would be fool enough to bond with the Cannibal.

She was still determined not to insult the girl - at least as far as it was undeniable she was a Princess of the Realm, and so long as the girl remained well-mannered she would be treated with the dignity befitting her station. And she was a dragonrider - if it came to war…which from Corlys own description of court - it very well might…a dragon of Dreamfyre’s size that was friendly to the Velaryon cause could not be dismissed out of hand. Rhaenys could not envision the girl riding into battle, certainly not against her own family either, but she had a dragon, one of the fastest rideable beasts and fiercest creatures in the world - she could take the children away to safety if the need arose - even Baela with Moondancer could not ride yet, the three girls could be sent to safety across the Narrow Sea, along with Aethan and Jocelyn, Rhaenys and Corlys could stay and fight, but her remaining children, and grandchildren had to be safeguarded first.

Much to consider for the future.

Evenfall Hall drew up in front of them, a large castle overlooking the sea, clearly built up by differing generations with different fashions kept in mind.

Different to castle Driftmark, and High Tide - both had been built with Valyrian features, though the home Corlys had built for her was far less drab and and weathered.

Lord Cameron’s whole household stood waiting in the courtyard, it was a royal reception - though only Helaena was of the direct line currently. Cameron’s younger son and likely wife stood to attention alongside what she imagined were, Arlan’s children, Cameron’s daughters would have long since been married.

What stopped Rhaenys in her tracks was the beautiful marble statue, it had her father as he had been before his death, next to him was his brother Baelon alongside a much younger Lord Cameron, swords drawn together, as if capturing the moment they answered the call to defend Tarth.

Tarth was known for their marble, finer stonemasons could be found, particularly in the Vale and Westerlands, but marble was Tarth’s speciality and it was on clear display.

It would have been costly even so, the kind of master to create such a lifelike depiction would have sought a high reward considering the sheer amount of hours that would have been necessary. It showed a loyalty to her father’s memory, which was a comfort to Rhaenys that she did not know would be so soothing.

Lord Cameran smiled at her, “True princes of the realm, and finer kings they would have made. Tarth has not forgotten the sacrifice your father made when he defended us from the Myrish scourge, it is our honour to host his daughter and her line.”

He also looked to her granddaughters and Helaena, “And of course Prince Baelon’s line as well.”

“A beautiful work Lord Cameron, I am comforted to know my father is well remembered here.” The tremor in her voice was an unusual crack in a long since perfected manner, but not unwelcome, the emotion her voice carried had Lord Cameron smiling genuinely at her as an uncle might a beloved niece. Brothers in arms once - mayhaps it was not so far from the truth.

Corlys commented that he was disappointed not to be included in a japing manor that had Cameron let out a wispy laugh in his throat and answer that if Corlys had a statue made for every great battle or voyage he attended then there would be no marble left on Tarth.

She greeted the household, Cameron introducing his younger son Samwell, his wife Rosamund Hewett - it seemed Cameron had made alliances with naval powers, Eastermonts of the Stormlands and Hewetts of the Shield Islands, logical given each are island holdings. They had two daughters to go alongside Arlan’s four sons.

Cameron offered the bread and salt, his good-daughters then taking the children, one headed towards the nursery and the other to show the girls the view from the battlements.

Corlys took her arm, assisting her as Cameron offered to host them in his solar, for wine and cheeses, and undoubtedly discussion. Cameron’s son’s Arlan and Samwell walked with them, where Arlan was older, reaching his fourth decade, where Samwell was closer in age to Laena - she had only been six and twenty when she died.

The Tarth men were amicable, Samwell in particular looked to Corlys with eyes wide with excitement as he made enquiries over his many voyages.

When the arrived in the solar, Cameron toasted to the Velaryon’s health, commenting over the impressive feat it was for Rhaenys to birth twins at such and advanced age, he said Valyrian women must have been forged in fire, considering Queen Alysane and Queen Alyssa Velaryon had each birthed babes in their fourth decade as well as Rhaenys.

It was bittersweet, the compliment, though Rhaenys could not help but think of Laena. If given half the chance Rhaenys would have died in her girl’s stead - though part of her still blamed Daemon, taking her to Pentos, to the east with ill educated savages that fear horse lords of all things. She should have been home. She should have been safe. It was undeniable that the birthing bed was a danger no matter the station of the woman, no matter the precautions taken, but a part of Rhaenys would always hold Daemon accountable, no matter the act of the gods or not - at least if she’d been on Driftmark, at least then Rhaenys could have been there - said goodbye and alleviate any fears Laena would have had for her girls.

Rhaenys was taken from her musings with the arrival of the wine, Arbor Gold - naturally, considering the Stormlands had little love for the Dornish, and Tarth had lost a great deal of amenability towards the Myrish due to the invasion that had happened in the ruling Lords own memory.

Corlys and Cameron continued to reminisce, his sons made enquiries, occasionally commenting on their own exploits, it was when the room turned serious and solemn that Rhaenys knew to pay attention.

“The court is said to be divided of late.” Arlan was the first to turn the conversation to more serious considerations.

“The court will always be divided, each house will always seek their own advancement, even under my grandfather the conciliator’s rule.” Rhaenys leaned back to assess their gage their reactions.

She was not yet certain the degree to which she would show her hand, Corlys had returned from Kingslanding, Viserys was a frustrating hypocrite in his refusal to affirm Aethan’s ascendency and if she were a more petty woman she might support Aegon’s claim to the throne, if only to spite Viserys after his death, afterall why should his wishes be adhered to when her own, more lawful wishes were not? - She hoped there wouldn’t be a war upon his death, if only to avoid the bloodshed that was inevitable when it came to dragons at war - she suspected however this hope was misplaced, and so she plan to protect her children and grandchildren rather than bury her head in the sand.

She had buried her head when it came to Laenor’s marriage, thinking it would be well, thinking her son would be safe, with a wife that would be silent about his interests - she was wrong.

She refused to let another person she cared about come to harm due to her own indolence. She was Rhaenys daughter of Aemon Targaryen and Jocelyn Baratheon - she had her duties, she had her fury and fire and blood - she could be just as dangerous as the rest of them.

Cameron’s eyes still shrewd as he observed them across the table.

“The Stormlands have had less standing in court these past few years, I would imagine a daughter of a Baratheon may be of similar mind in wanting the Stormlands concerns to be at the forefront of the courtly proceedings, and of course for the Storlands to stand together…come what may.”

Rhaenys paused looking to Corlys for his own reaction.

The words were not unexpected, but still welcome. Viserys’ ascendancy had offended the Stormlands, and he had done nothing to bring them back into the fold.

The Reach…a Hightower Queen with a son that was not heir…Rhaenys may hope there would not be war, but Corlys himself had said it was undeniable the divisions in court - even if Rhaenyra ascended without a claim from her brother, she would struggle to court the followers of Queen Alicent, afterall who ruled the realm in Viserys’ illness? Not his heir apparent but the QUeen and her father the Lord Hand, sending them from court as Rhaenyra would undoubtedly do at Daemon’s recommendation…it would lead to unrest.

The Vale may yet gain Aryn blood on the throne, but there was discontent within the houses, in the Aryn House included, her cousin in particular - foolish as otherwise he would likely inherit after her death without his treasonous words, and yet sometimes all it took was words.

The Lannisters of the Westerlands had been spurned by house Targaryen, by Rhaenys’ aunt Rhaena, by Viserys dismissals and Rhaenyra’s petulance as a girl. The Westerlands would follow the Lannisters, dragons may be Targaryen’s power but there was a great deal to be said for gold - Corlys had proved that much himself.

The Riverlands were always tumultuous and likely always would be, the Tullys still gaining the respect of their fellow Lords, though they had never been kings.

The North was insular and kept to themselves, neither made to feel part of the Realm, but not outside of it, curious folk the Northerners - whether they would truly care about the mounting tensions and possible war in the south…they may very well watch the realm tear itself apart - and why would they care? The Starks rarely travelled south, and only did so upon command.

The Iron Islands…well they’d never been a people of peace.

And Dorne had not yet kneeled to Targaryen might - and they’d never had peaceful borders, Stormlands or Reach lords still lost good men against their queer neighbours.

War was…inevitable.

Viserys had set his heir, whoever that may be, to inherit a cacophony of anger, resentment and complaints that, if things boiled over, would lead to war.

And neither potential heir was equipped to deal with it. Neither sat in the Small Council, neither listened to petitions, neither made any overtures to the Houses that had reason for discontent.

Cameron’s words spoke true. Come what may…

---

Samwell Tarth, second son of lord Cameron was pleased with the visit of Princess Rhaenys and her Lord Husband, and even gladder for the outcome of his father’s discussion.

He and his eldest nephew were to sail with them to the mainland, to attend Storms End and hunt with Lord Baratheon, and most importantly, he was to assist in the preparations for ensuring Stormlander interests were once more given weight at court.

His father told him, a wise sailer steers clear of storms, but an even wiser sailor ensured his ship could withstand one, because sometimes a steady course was not the fate of all ships.

A strong ship.

A strong allegiance. An allegiance with a dragonrider - Princess Rhaenys rode the fastest of the dragons it was said. Should it come to war - which his father was certain it would - they’d have a dragon to deter another Harrenhal or avoid another field of fire.

He’d never seen a dragon in a fight. His brother had attended the Stepstones in their youth, ser Laenor had allegedly been a flying ghost, and Prince Daemon a demon atop their dragons. Arlan had said to face a dragon in battle is madness.

He hoped with Princess Rhaenys on their side, he would not have to worry about such things, he was no craven, he would do what duty and honour demanded, but dragons truly sounded terrifying.

He kissed his lady wife goodbye, a good wife, his Rosamund. She’d look after their girls whilst he was away.

He stepped aboard the legendary Sea Snake, the ship he’d dreamed of as a boy. He would serve well, protect Tarth, protect the Stormlands, and ensure when this war came, the one his father was sure would come, that his kin would survive and thrive.

Chapter Text

Rhaena enjoyed Steffan Tarth’s company. He was nice and fun and knew plenty of things about sailing - apparently the Andals had some different stories to Valyrians - which she should have likely expected, but she was still learning so much from grandfather. It made sense that Steffan knew so much, he was heir of the Sapphire Isles…the heir’s heir, as his father and grandfather were still alive…part of her envied that. The only funeral he’d ever attended was his grandmother’s and he’d been a babe then. She envied his family, his surety in them - he didn’t have to hate his cousins, or pretend other cousins were trueborn when they weren't, or accept a new stepmother as if everything was okay. Steffen could just - be.

She liked sailing. She liked learning about different stories of sailors, how to remember the different designs of stars - why Belerion pointed East (or if Steffan’s version was correct, how Balerion’s crown was the Smith’s belt).

When they had arrived on the mainland their party had grown larger, her grandmother was enjoying time spent with her old friend, lady Jena Buckler who she’d known as a girl - it was kind of an odd thought, grandmother as a girl, she seemed like she’d been an adult for eternity, but Rhaena supposed even adults had childhoods. Doing the arithmetic, she’d figured out that her grandmother was older than the King! If she were pushed to say anything she would not think he was the younger, King Viserys looked positively ancient.

Baela was still intent on ignoring Helaena, which, to be fair, had felt justified in the beginning. Why should they like her? She was an overly ambitious Hightower (at least according to father), she was a simpleton (according to most people that had met her), and most importantly she was the sister of the awful - awful Aemond who had stolen Vaghar.

Well…not stolen. You couldn’t steal a dragon, grandmother had explained as much. It was uncouth and cruel to claim Vaghar the same evening of her previous rider’s funeral, but it was not stealing, she could mislike Aemond all she liked for the disrespect he showed her mother, but she could not declare him a thief - no matter if felt like he was.

She had wanted…she had thought that if she could claim Vaghar, then she might keep a piece of her mother with her. But, the more time she spent with her grandparents, the more she was coming to realise that she could honour her mother’s memory a million different ways. It did still sting a little, the loss of mother, and the dream of riding Vaghar, but the more she thought on it, she released the dream had been to fly alongside mother and Vaghar, on a separate dragon to call her own, for if she was flying with Vaghar, that always meant mother was dead.

Part of her also quietly let go of the possibility of making father proud. Claiming a dragon - an ancient dragon such as Vaghar - it would actually make him see her…But he would not be seeing her - he’d just see Vaghar. Because that was likely how he’d seen mother, for he did not love mother as he loved Rhaenyra, but he did love flying with her and Vaghar - or mayhaps just Vaghar. Gods it was so confusing and upsetting to think about. If mother had never claimed Vaghar, would father have never married her?

Rhaena was conscious enough to acknowledge that she wanted her father to love her…for her…not because she rode a dragon. So she was beginning to quiet that dream, and find newer dreams to look forward to. She liked watching grandfather interact with grandmother, he looked to her like she was his world, and she looked to him for strength, and most importantly, they listened to each other. Father hadn’t done that for mother, and Rhaena’s stomach churned at the though of a fate such as her mother’s. She wanted to be heard, she wanted to be loved, for herself, she wanted to give her children the stability like Steffen Tarth had.

That wasn’t to say she didn’t want a dragon, she rather liked the idea that perhaps she could have a dragon of her own, a companion, and a way to fly and see the world - in the future when Beala and she had married, they’d need a way to visit eachother and a dragon was the best and fastest way to travel - at least according the grandmother. She still slept with the new egg that grandmother had gifted her and prayed to the gods, Valyrian, the Merling King and even the Seven, that they might allow her to hatch the egg and she would finally claim a dragon.

Not to make her father proud - but so she could have fun with Baela and grandmother, and even her aunt and uncle when they were old enough.

If not…Seasmoke was on Driftmark. Mayhaps she’d be brave enough to claim uncle Laenor’s dragon. She and Baela had gone down to visit, Moondancer was now nested with Meleys and Seasmoke, Driftmark had fewer caverns than Dragonstone, but enough to play in, or feel like explorers with Baela, though Grandfather said to be careful as some of the caves lead underwater, and when high tide came up, he said some men never came out, soe she and Baela were not to go too far alone, and he did not mind joining them. Grandmother said he’d never been overly fond of visiting dragons, but he did so with them anyway, for he loved them, which made Rhaena feel warm inside.

Spending time with her grandparents made her feel brave.

She even felt brave enough to spend time with Steffan. Without Baela.

Steffan was kind, and gentle, and he hadn’t liked how Baela…and she…had been treating Helaena. He thought Helaena odd - it was difficult not to - but he said it was a knight’s duty to defend even the odd women and children- and it was his life’s ambition to become a great and honourable knight.

While Rhaena had learned life was not a song, her own mother’s life had taught her this, Steffen seemed to think the songs were possible if you worked hard for it, and Rhaena…maybe she could work to find a song for herself too.

When he had said it out loud as if it were the most logical truth in the world, Rhaena felt chastened. Helaena, strange as she was, was not at fault for her brother’s actions. It was not her fault she was born to the Hightowers and their ambitions - she could not control being born either way - and she did not seem grasping, unless there was more to her queer fascination with insects that Rhaena had missed entirely. Helaena was just a weird girl, and knights had to protect girls, no matter how queer.

And in truth - being odd was not a reason to dismiss a person. Baela may be considered odd for her interest in swordplay and fighting and Rhaena would hate anyone who mistreated her.

She did not have to like Helaena, but she would not be so cold to her.

Baela had not appreciated Steffan’s admonishment, especially as he only two years older than her, and she wanted little to do with him or Helaena - but Rhaena…she did not want to stop spending time with him, he was fun and full of japes, and he didn’t mind that she didn’t have a dragon. The children she’d been able to interact with were either her sister, the Pentoshi nobles that found Baela more interesting as she had a dragon, or her Velaryon cousins, Jace and Luke, and they both had dragons. Steffan did not mind that she did not have a dragon, he said he was not interested in beasts beyond mayhaps the merlings - he imagined it would be better to breathe underwater rather than fly - Rhaena was not certain she agreed, but it was a fun debate between them. He said there were stories of sea dragons, which she quite liked when he spoke of them.

Mayhaps it was wrong of her, mayhaps it was part the reason why father seemed so disappointed in her - but she liked things beyond Valyrian histories and culture and dragons. She liked songs and stories and people that were…normal.

She looked forward to this visit, she’d get to see a real hunt, with knights and squires and Lords with their hawks and dogs. Steffan was excited to attend with the Lord of the Stormlands, his future liege Lord, and his excitement was so easy to get swept up in - He felt like he might become a true friend.

He was in part the leader of the younger members of their party, though Baela was attempting to usurp his position - this may also be in part why they seemed to clash heads. She was ever loyal to Baela of course, but Steffan would make sense when he spoke and treated all the younger children with consideration and care. They’d arrived on the mainland and grandmother had introduced them to her old friend Lady Jena Buckler, and her four younger children, Lady Raellene was seven and ten, and was clearly trying very hard to demonstrate that she was a woman grown. Her younger brother Robin was four and ten and despite being older than Steffan was no leader, she supposed that was in part the difference between sons born to heirship and sons born spare…though her father was an exception to the rule. Robin clearly thought her cousin Helaena was beautiful, near in age he went bright red any time she looked at him and commented often that it was a shame she was already married - it was kind of funny, and Rhaena knew for certain that she would never be so silly over a boy.

Then was Lady Buckler’s youngest daughter Jeyne who was of age with her and Baela, and Jeyne’s younger brother was only ten months younger named Roger enjoyed playing with and spending time with his sister Jeyne, and therefore also Baela and Rhaena. They were fun and full of laughter and games. Jeyne may not like swordplay but she was learning hawking from her older brothers and suggested she and Baela join the hunt. Rhaena thought she might feel jealous - that Baela had made a friend, close in age, but with more similarities - but Rhaena was happy for Baela, and did not feel overlooked, for at night they’d still curl up and share a bed or go under their sheets and tell eachother secrets.

Besides, the more time Baela and Jeyne spent together, the less bad Rhaena felt bad about finding a friend in Steffen, he’d tell her stories of the Stormlands, and grandmother and Lady Bucker would help fill in the parts he was still learning - she’d found a friend that liked stories as much as she, as much as Baela liked swords, and mayhaps as much as cousins Helaena liked insects.

Roger was loud and boisterous and reminded Rhanea a bit of Baela, if Baela were smaller and more clumsy, but he also liked sailing, and had a mind to go on adventures and sail the world. He was like a little brother, he reminded her slightly of Lucerys, and part of her wondered if her own brother Aegon would grow up to be like Roger.

All the children in their party, with the exception of Rhaellene and Heleana, would run around together, they’d have adventures whilst the adults talked and the servants set up camp around whatever inn, or keep was near.

Helaena was only a guest of their party, and a married woman so she could not play games despite being of age with other children they played with, so she had to stay with the adults…because in the eyes of society she was an adult. Rhaena thought her cousin looked entirely bored with the adults, bored and uncomfortable, and she more often than not said she was feeling unwell and stayed in her carriage often - mayhaps if she did not eat so heartily she would not take ill so often. Grandmother had been noting cousin Helaena’s intake of food, and Rhaena had overheard her speaking for grandfather that once arrived in Storms End, they’d need to seek the assistance of a tailor for her.

Mayhaps Queen Alicent didn’t feed her cousin, for she ate so much - she’d heard some people make fun of uncle Vaemond’s lady wife, Alyssa, for she was rounder than most women, mayhaps the Queen sought to make her daughter more beautiful by making her slimmer and starving her - such as the nature of such ambitious Hightowers, they would starve their own children to make them appear prettier.

Rhaellene stayed with the adults, not married yet, but a woman grown, Grandmother said it was important for her to remain alongside their party and not be caught alone. Baela didn’t like Rhaelene overmuch, said she was pretending to be a grown woman, said she was silly and liked dresses and sewing and had no proper thoughts beyond pretending to be a grown lady, as she smiled stupidly at their cousin Dameion, and asked to walk with him. Baela would scowl and huff that he should be with this family and not strangers, though Baela did not seem to mind when spending time with Rhaellene’s younger siblings. It was odd…Baela’s mislike of Rhaellene, for Baela did not mind that Rhaena liked dresses and sewing, so mayhaps Rhaellene had done something to hurt Baela, or Daemeion, and Baela was trying to defend their family? It was not clear why Baela was acting so odd. Mayhaps Baela was worried their cousin would marry Rhaellene and their cousin they would not see him so much, afterall with his brother now married and living with his new lady wife, they had not seen him since. Yes, this might be why, Baela did not like Rhaellene. Sometimes her sister would disappear, at first she thought it was with Jeyne, or Roger, but she’d then find them with Steffen, so mayhaps she was off on her own - Rhaena sometimes needed some time to herself. Dameion would always be the one to find her though, he looked out for her like a good cousin, he would not leave them forever, afterall he said he liked Driftmark far too much to ever leave for long.

Being part of a travelling retinue was fun, granted the fact it was rather slow, Ser Bertran Bolling and his sons were to join them on the morrow, meaning they’d have more children to play with, and then it would not be but two more days before they’d arrive in Storms End, the home of her great-grandmother, and a castle that was said to have defied the gods themselves.

She liked this adventure. She liked being with people, she adored Baela and she would always be her favourite, but being with people beyond Baela, beyond Targaryens, or Velaryons, or Valyrians in general - her father would be ashamed of her if he knew, but she likes Andals, she liked the people he considered sheep, she liked that they liked her, she liked that they enjoyed things other than dusty old tomes and ages long past. Valyria had fallen, the empire her family had once belonged to and been blasted into ash in a moment, and trying to hold onto ash was a fools errand. Her father liked being superior to everyone else, but in being better than everyone else, it left him with fewer friends, and while he was happy without friends, Rhaena was not. Her father was…he was wrong.

She was here, and breathing and happy, and he was not here to see it because he loved the past more than he cared for her future.

He said they had a duty to live up to their heritage, but why could he not see their heritage was tearing them apart? He wanted to marry a valyrian dragon rider, so he married mother but did not love her - his obsession with this had him marry Rhaenyra not even a week after uncle Laenor’s death, she understood why grandmother and grandfather were so insulted, she was insulted. His obsession was stupid, and the more she listened, the more she realised, her father had few friends - worse, he had enemies.

She had no doubt father would fight, and win - he was a knight afterall. But…she realised that the reason he had enemies was because he was selfish. She was not blind to her grandparents' quiet conversations, she knew Velaryon men followed her father when he visited, she heard her cousins speak in hushed tones regarding Prince Daemon’s cruelty…how he’d murdered her uncle Laenor. She did not want to believe it, he was good and he protected his family! But…he loved Rhaenyra.

He loved her more than mother, more than his affection for his brother the King as Viserys had apparently been angry at the marriage. He loved her…in spite of knowing that Rhaena and Baela would hate his quick remarriage.

So why would she not think he loved her enough to kill uncle Laenor?

She was not wholly convinced of course. She knew her father better than her Velaryon cousins ever would, they heard all the bad, but never saw the good.

But…a quiet part of her was scared…that her father was capable of great cruelty.

She was doing her best to investigate. While Baela went of on her adventures, or sword lessons, or wherever she disappeared to and cousin Daemeion retrieved her from - she listened, and learned. She wanted to prove he was innocent.

She wanted to prove he was better than what they thought…better than…the man who ignored her.

She had not spoken much of it with Baela. Though she would always like Baela best, sometimes she feared Baela might not always like her best, her sister got angry at people, Helaena, Rhaellene, and in part Steffen. She was so stubborn, passionate, she would defend her family no matter what, but it also meant that when she was angry, it was hard to talk with her. Rhaena feared if she said some of these secret thoughts to Baela, her sister would be angry, because Baela liked being like father, liked being a Valyrian, liked being…better than everyone else, and Rhaena wanted to be…like everyone else…and have a dragon.

Well that wasn’t entirely correct. Baela didn't think she was better than everyone else, not really, but she liked being different than others, she liked being the exception to the rule. Baela wanted to be an adventurer, a warrior, she wanted to be written in the histories and become legend.

Baela idolised their father, because he encouraged her ambitions.

How could Rhaena tell her that their father was not like that for her? He was not like that for many…and it isolated him, and by association, it isolated them from other people.

Good people - who would be her friends, so Rhaena was not so alone.

---

Laenor Velaryon could not help it.

It had haunted him.

The boy.

The boy with his own face.

He could not help it, he’d done what he’d promise himself he would not do, and he’d found himself walking down to the docks, smell of salt and sea so familiar to him that he could almost imagine he was back on Driftmark, this feeling only doubled when he had seen Alyn’s ship - Alyn and his daughter…Marilda? Yes that was her name. His cousins had japed that she was pretty enough to dance with and mayhaps steal kisses from - Laenor had followed along with them and agreed, if only to pretend he was not as he was.

Mayhaps - mayhaps he guessed the wrong age of the boy.

Mayhaps the child was a cousin’s bastard.

Gods he hoped so.

But the issue however, was that his cousins, for the most part, had taken after their mothers in looks - this didn’t entirely discount them as the potential father, he knew some children may look similar to their parents and instead appear identical to their grandparents, his own father had commented at the Great Council that Aunt Saera’s bastard was the very image of Jaehaerys.

Gods he hoped the boy was not his brother.

He could not - would not know what to do. He’d always seen his parents as being above reproach, as perfect, and Laena was perfect, and he’d been to one that ruined the brilliance of the Velaryon name and family, for being as he was. Being born wrong.

The only person that could give him answers was Marilda. So he’d left his bed, early in the morning his dear Qarl grunting at his departure, asking with sleep still in his voice where he was headed to with such a solemn expression.

He had simply said the docks. How did he explain that he was trying to determine whether his father may have seeded a bastard, his brother, and now he was going to go to the one woman in Braavos that would recognise him, and could return to Driftmark and announce his survival.

Gods he knew what Daemon would do if even a whisper of his survival made it back to Driftmark or beyond - Rhaenyra had given birth to a new son, Daemon would not stand for his son’s legitimacy to be called into question - Laenor would die, there was no doubt in his mind about that. Daemon would not let anyone stand between him and his ambitions, nor the surety of his family’s safety.

Mother had said that Daemon was fickle to most, but loyal to family. Viserys first and foremost, then House Targaryen as a whole - but when those things came into conflict, you could be certain he’d choose his blood over anything else - it had been why he’d chosen Viserys at the Great Council, despite knowing Viserys’ true nature. He’d asked then, mayhaps it had been Daemon’s own ambition, afterall he’d been Viserys’ heir at the time but mother had told him, even in spite of all Daemon’s other ambitions, he’d never usurp his brother, for he had admired his father more than anyone, and Baelor would never have usurped Aemon…only Aemon’s daughter she’d added bitterly. So Daemon would never usurp Viserys, only Viserys’ daughter.

It was why, mother had been confident in his suit to Rhaenyra - Viserys likely always feared his brother was so much alike with their father, and the reason he’d never entertained a match between his brother and Rhaenyra, particularly after he’d named her heir.

Daemon was loyal to blood, though he’d betrayed Laenor’s mother…for his brother - so Laenor knew Daemon would kill him if it meant protecting his wife, and his son.

Meeting with Marilda might destroy the peace he’d managed to achieve for himself.

Was this a stupid decision?

Undoubtedly.

He’d been making a number of stupid decisions since Laena’s death. She’d always been his anchor, his port. It wasn’t their Targaryen blood - he did not love her like that. But if there was a person Laenor would describe as the true love of his life, it would be his beloved sister. The only grief comparable was Joffrey, and he loved Joffrey to the ends of the earth, but he loved Laena into the depths of the ocean, and the ocean was more vast than the land.

He’d fallen into the canals whilst drunk and his poor Qarl had needed to fish him out again. He’d tried to fight three men much larger than him…also whilst drunk. They’d ended up laughing him out of the tavern, which was a kinder outcome than he should have expected. He’d started gambling - sometimes he won, other times he lost, he could not look Qarl in the eye some nights when he lost coin that they should be using to set themselves up for a comfortable life. He would justify it to himself, that he’d earn it back, either through gambling or mayhaps as a sell sword - he was just so used to always having coin available to him, from his family, his father’s coffers - gods he was a fucking mess and he didn’t know what in the seven hells where his life was headed, and thank the gods Qarl was ever patient with him.

If Laena were alive he’d never have dared be so stupid. Gods she’d be wroth with him. Scared for him. Worried over him.

But he needed to do this. There was an ache in his chest that had made itself known more and more when he realised that he would never see any member of his family again - Not his parents, not his dear nieces…not his boys.

Qarl was wonderful. Kind and understanding and patient with this grief. But it went unsaid between them, that Qarl could return to his family if he so chose - Laenor did not have that option.

He did not know what he was chasing - coming here to meet with Marilda.

Mayhaps he had a deathwish.

But if he could see the boy. His…kin…cousin…half-brother. Gods he did not know if he wanted the boy to be a Velaryon bastard, or if he’d prefer the boy to just be some random commoner.

Did he crave his kin? Or was it just his dissatisfaction with his new lot in life?

Was he chasing a death wish to go be with Laena? He’d walked by the cursed doors of the followers of the Many Faced Gods, and there was a moment where he felt a kinship with them, for he understood how to some, death could be a gift.

He had wanted it…this life, hadn’t he? He’d told Rhaenyra he’d wanted a war to go off and fight in, instead of staying at court with her.

Because war was the only thing his father and he had in common. And he liked seeing the pride in his father’s eye, instead of the frustration.

He hadn’t wanted to be cut off from his family. To never see his parents again. To never see Laena’s girls again. To never see his…Rhaenyra’s boys again.

To `never even meet his new siblings.

Mayhaps he was craving the danger that came with meeting someone from home. Mayhaps he just missed home.

Gods he hoped Qarl would forgive his fool self.

The ship was somewhat familiar to him, it had the familiar make for the craftsmen of Driftmark, weathered wood that came from around the Crownlands. Part of him wanted to storm up the gangplank and demand answers. Part of him was scared.

Part of him knew that he was already dancing with danger - and he had not his family’s protection anymore.

He stood on the dock, staring, wondering exactly what it was that brought him here what exactly he should do, when it seemed the decision was taken away from him, and a woman - a bit older than he remembered - a bit more weathered and tired strode down the gangplank as if she owned it…she likely did.

She was of age with him, or a little younger if memory served well, closer to Laena’s age, or mayhaps between them - that thought had him hoping that it was a cousin if the boy was in truth part Velaryon.

She was still objectively a pretty woman, though her beauty was hindered by the rougher skin that came with sailing and the spray of seasalt. Differing to the woman he vaguely recalled, in part by the large belly that swelled at her front.

She glanced at him at first, a brief moment before her head swung back to assess him properly. She paled and stared as if she’d seen a ghost.

Behind her, the boy that had sent his mind to obsession.

He had his same face. Youthful, with his Corlys Velaryon’s eyes, and brow.

He was of age with Jacerys, or at least as old as Jacerys was when he left, gods his boy would be ten and one, though in his mind's eye his eldest boy had not aged since ten, for he had missed a year… more than a year now.

“Go with your brother and help Faadi with his new haul won’t you.” She took a coin purse and shoved it into the boy’s hands.

“But Ma, Faadi’s on the other side of the canals.” The boy whined, though a sharp look from Marilda had him calling for his brother.

“C’mon Addam hurry up then.” He called into the cabin, and another boy emerged, similar features, similar eyes. As the moved past their mother the elder boy stopped and stared at him, his brother bumping his shoulder pausing too.

They stared, and Laenor could not help but stare back. He’d always imagined what his sons may look like and they were his blood, he supposed the closest he would get to seeing it was Laena’s girls, or mayhaps his cousins' children, but here, he supposed his father’s bastards would logically be the closest he’d get. There was nothing of his mother in them though - it made his stomach churn as he searched despite knowing it would not be there.

“Go boys, don’t be back before midday. And I won’t be hearin’ of any misbehavin’ will I?”

The elder boy sighed with defeat, his eyes turned calculating…so like Laenor’s…their father, he raised his chin proudly, grabbed his brother's arm and headed down the gangplank.

She looked at him assessining, then sighed and gestured for him to follow her into the cabin.

“Your a dead man walkin milord.” She hobbled in and sat carefully onto a nest of blankets atop an ill made bed.

Laenor knew he should be mindful that she recognised him, that she could ruin him, lead Daemon to him and end his life if he were not careful.

“You’re a cheating whore!” The words tumbled out of his mouth before he processed what he had said.

He was so angry. At his father, at her. For his mother’s honour.

His mother was one of the greatest women he’d ever known and this whore had seduced his father and likely laughed at his mother whist she did so.

Marilda laughed bitterly at his words, which only made him angrier.

“Whore I may be Milord, but it was your cheatin father that broke his vows, not I.”

“You seduced him.”

“And you supposed he slipped and fell into bed with me twice then? I was a girl. Seven and ten, and been given attention by a Lord. He was a legend, with his adventures and riches, and he showed me attention, and I was stupid enough to fall for it.”

“You knew he was married, you spread your legs and what? Blackmailed him?” Leanor’s heart was beating wildly, it was her fault, her fault, his father was good…he was honourable…he…he…he wouldn’t betray his mother.

And yet proof he had, just walked down the gangplank.

“He was the lord and he called me beautiful, and let me drink his fancy wine and he said he missed having a woman in his bed, for your mother had abandoned his, some fight they were having at the time.” she shrugged and looked at him with a helpless expression.

“As if that gave you any right.” Laenor puffed out, he wanted to break something, hit someone, he began pacing.

“I know it was wrong. I know bedding a married man was a fools act, at the time it all seemed so…easy. I felt special. Like the rules wouldn’t apply to me.” Marilda sighed with something akin to regret, and longing and sadness.

“So you fucked him twice and birthed his bastards?” the words were sour on his tongue.

Marilda snorted, “I know you don[‘t know much about conceiving the babes considering your own sons had the looks of your Princess's guard, but your father fucked me more than once or twice. Alyn came after three months…it was Addam that came as a jape form the gods, one fuck when he came to meet Alyn and months later my little Addam had arrived.”

Laenor bit back the urge to snarl at the matter of fact way she spoke of her…relationship with his father. “The babe you carry?”

He had to ask. He was not certain he could take the idea of his father fucking another woman when his mother was pregnant with his siblings.

Marilda gave a small, tired…sad smile, “My husband’s.”

“You’re married?” He felt relief at the thought. If she had a husband, he could keep her well away from his father.

“Widowed. It seems the Gods are intent to punish me for the foolishness of my youth and my children are to be raised without fathers. We married only six moons ago. None on Driftmark would have me, no man would be brave nor fool enough to raise Corlys’ Velaryon’s bastards so I remained unwed. Coming to Braavos, despite its many difficulties, gave me a chance to begin anew, we married quick, and he died quick, the sea always had its dangers, and it seems I am destined to love men who love the sea.” She rubbed her belly gently, her eyes looking as tired as his mothers.

He wanted to hate her.

He wanted to ruin her, like she had ruined the image he’d had of his father…but he knew his father had done that all on his own.

She looked…like Rhaenyra. Not in looks, for she had black hair and a crooked nose and eyes as grey as the sea, but she looked like Rhaenyra had when she was tired and distraught, having just given birth to Joffrey and the Queen was being cruel. She looked like a pregnant woman on her last wind, needing someone to guide her to shore.

“My father…did he provide for you?” His hands clenched to fists. The money he earned to build a life for Laenor’s mother, and their children, going to a whore’s hands…and yet, his brother’s had not asked to be born, and their mother seemed…repentant.

Marilda shrugged, nodding slightly,” As much as he dared. He sent me away after his new babes were born. Served me right for thinking I could compete with a princess…still unfair considering Driftmark was all I’d known and he just packed me up and sent me on my way with a chest of gold and an oath to never return.”

Laenor resisted the urge to snap and say it was a deserved fate…however considering his own taste of the same freedom to such a fate…he felt pity…grief…camaraderie with Marilda of Hull.

They were two, sent off for the convenience of people more powerful than themselves, for they both fucked people they shouldn’t, so their were now nomads, without a home.

“I’ll…I’ll look out for you. If father couldn’t…wouldn’t do his duty…my brother’s deserve some guidance.” He said the words like an oath, he knew they were true. Truer than his knights oaths, certainly truer than his marriage vows. His brothers deserved to be raised right, and he was not certain Marilda was capable considering her…past, besides…he missed his boys…and he could not deny his ache for family.

Gods explaining this to Qarl was going to be difficult.