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Chapter Text

In the year 84 AC, within the illustrious halls of Dragonstone, Prince Baelon "The Brave" Targaryen and Princess Alyssa Targaryen eagerly awaited the birth of their third child. As the labor pains intensified, the maesters hurried to attend to the princess. 

As Princess Alyssa Targaryen's strength waned amidst the throes of childbirth, a miraculous surge of energy coursed through her veins, suffusing her with newfound vitality. Unbeknownst to those gathered around her, it was the essence of Harry Potter, reincarnated within her womb, that infused her with such unexpected resilience.

With each breath, Alyssa felt the flicker of magic intertwining with her own life force, buoying her spirits and fortifying her resolve. Though the labor was arduous and the pain relentless, she drew upon the mysterious power that flowed from the soul of her unborn child, finding strength in the bond that transcended both time and space.

As the maesters and midwives looked on in astonishment, Alyssa's determination never faltered, her gaze fixed upon the future she carried within her. With each passing moment, she felt the presence of her son growing stronger, his magic weaving a tapestry of hope and possibility around her.

And so, amidst the flickering candlelight and the echoing cries of dragons, Princess Alyssa Targaryen defied fate itself, embracing the gift of her son's magic and embracing the promise of a new beginning. With Harry Potter's essence coursing through her veins, she faced the challenges of childbirth with unwavering courage, knowing that the bond between mother and child would endure whatever trials lay ahead.

As the birthing chamber quieted after the arrival of the newborn prince, Maester Harlan approached Princess Alyssa Targaryen with a gentle smile, his eyes reflecting the reverence he held for this momentous occasion.

"Your Grace," he began, bowing respectfully. "It is tradition for the mother to name the child. What shall we call this blessed prince?"

Alyssa, still recovering from the exertion of childbirth, looked down at the tiny bundle in her arms, her heart overflowing with love and wonder. She traced her fingers over the soft curve of his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her touch.

"His name shall be Jaehaerys," she declared, her voice soft yet resolute. "Jaehaerys Targaryen, in honor of his noble grandfather and the legacy of House Targaryen."

Maester Harlan nodded in approval, his expression reflecting the solemnity of the moment. "A fitting name for a prince destined for greatness," he remarked, his voice tinged with reverence.

And so, with the naming of her son, Princess Alyssa Targaryen bestowed upon him a legacy that would echo through the halls of Dragonstone for generations to come, a name that would be whispered with reverence and awe throughout the Seven Kingdoms.

And thus, in the year 84 AC, Prince Jaehaerys II Targaryen, who will go down in history as "The Dragon Mage," was born into the tumultuous world of Westeros, his fate intertwined with the ancient lineage of House Targaryen and the enigmatic legacy of the Potters.

—

In the warmth of his mother's womb, Harry Potter, unaware of the world beyond, sensed a change in the air. As Princess Alyssa Targaryen's strength ebbed, Harry felt a surge of energy coursing through him, mingling with his own magic.

In the cocoon of darkness, Harry's awareness expanded, and he could feel the heartbeat of his mother, steady and strong, yet laced with the strain of labor. Instinctively, he reached out with his budding magic, seeking to ease her pain and lend her his strength.

With each contraction, Harry's own essence pulsed in harmony with his mother's, a silent symphony of life and magic. He could sense her determination, her fierce love, and her unwavering resolve to bring him into the world.

As the moments stretched into eternity, Harry felt a profound connection with the woman who carried him, a bond that transcended the boundaries of flesh and blood. In that sacred space between mother and child, he found solace and purpose, knowing that their destinies were intertwined in ways beyond comprehension.

And then, with a final, triumphant cry, Harry emerged into the world, his tiny form bathed in the soft glow of candlelight. As he was cradled in his mother's arms, he gazed up at her with eyes that held the wisdom of ages, silently promising to be her strength and her guiding light, now and always.

—

In the depths of Dragonstone, where the echoes of history intertwined with the flickering flames of dragonfire, the mighty Cannibal lay in slumber. For centuries, he had rested, his ancient form nestled within the cavernous chambers of the island fortress.

Yet, as the first cries of Prince Jaehaerys II Targaryen pierced the air, a stirring awakened within the heart of the beast. Sensing the arrival of his destined rider, the Cannibal roused from his age-old slumber, his massive form shifting restlessly within the confines of his lair.

Through the bond that transcended mere words, the dragon and the boy connected, their souls intertwining in a primal dance of destiny. With each heartbeat, the connection between them grew stronger, forging a bond that would endure the trials of time and fate.

As the newborn prince was cradled in the arms of destiny, the Cannibal's Jade green eyes gleamed with ancient wisdom and newfound purpose. For in that moment, the dragon knew that he had found his rider, the one destined to soar with him through the skies of Westeros, as "The Dragon Mage" and his mighty steed, united in purpose and power.

—

Maester Harlan stepped out of the birthing chamber, his expression a mix of relief and awe as he beheld Prince Baelon Targaryen standing before him, anxiously awaiting news of his wife and newborn child.

"Your Grace," Harlan began, his voice reverent. "I bring tidings of joy. Princess Alyssa has given birth to a healthy son."

A smile of pure elation spread across Baelon's face, his heart swelling with pride and gratitude. "A son," he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. "And Alyssa, is she..."

"She is weary but safe," the maester reassured him. "The princess displayed remarkable strength throughout the ordeal. It seems the Seven have blessed this child with a mother's love and resilience. Your son has been named as Jaehaerys, in honor of his noble grandfather and the storied lineage of House Targaryen."

A smile of pride and satisfaction spread across Baelon's face, his heart swelling with gratitude towards his wife and the maester who had guided them through this momentous occasion. "Jaehaerys," he repeated, the name rolling off his tongue with reverence. "A fitting name for a prince of Dragonstone."

As Prince Baelon Targaryen stood in the halls of Dragonstone, basking in the joy of his newborn son's arrival, a dragon keeper burst into the chamber, his expression one of urgency and awe.

"Your Grace," he exclaimed, his voice breathless with excitement. "The Cannibal has awakened from his slumber!"

Baelon's eyes widened in astonishment at the news, his mind racing with the implications of the Cannibal's awakening coinciding with the birth of his son, Jaehaerys. It was no mere coincidence; it was an omen of profound significance.

Standing outside the birthing room, Prince Baelon Targaryen felt a shiver of awe run down his spine as he pondered the implications of the Cannibal's awakening. The legendary dragon's fearsome reputation loomed large in his mind, a testament to the power and danger that came with taming such a beast.

As he reflected on the dragon's strange behavior, a sudden realization dawned upon him with startling clarity. Jaehaerys, his newborn son, was meant to be the Cannibal's rider—the chosen one destined to command the mightiest of dragons and uphold the legacy of House Targaryen.

The significance of this revelation was not lost on Baelon. It was a moment of profound destiny, a convergence of ancient bloodlines and divine will. Jaehaerys was destined for greatness, fated to soar through the skies of Westeros as a true dragonlord, bearing the mantle of House Targaryen with unwavering strength and authority.

With a sense of purpose burning in his heart, Baelon knew that he must nurture and protect his son, guiding him along the path that had been laid out by the gods themselves. Together, they would forge a legacy that would echo through the annals of history, forever entwined with the legendary dragon known as the Cannibal.

—

As the ravens arrived at the Red Keep in King's Landing, bearing news of the birth of the new Prince Jaehaerys and the strange behavior of the Cannibal, King Jaehaerys I Targaryen and Queen Alyssane Targaryen were immediately alerted to the urgency of the situation.

With a furrowed brow, King Jaehaerys studied the reports with a mixture of concern and curiosity, his mind racing with the implications of the Cannibal's awakening. The legendary dragon's behavior was unprecedented, and it hinted at a destiny of great significance for House Targaryen.

Queen Alyssane, ever the voice of reason and compassion, listened intently as her husband deliberated over the news. Her eyes sparkled with a mixture of pride and apprehension, knowing that their family was now entwined with the fate of the legendary dragon.

"It seems our family's legacy is intertwined with the fate of the Cannibal," King Jaehaerys remarked, his voice grave yet resolute. "We must tread carefully, for this is no ordinary omen."

Queen Alyssane nodded in agreement, her gaze unwavering as she stood by her husband's side. "We must ensure the safety of our newborn grandson and the stability of the realm," she declared, her voice steady with determination.

And so, with the weight of destiny upon their shoulders, King Jaehaerys and Queen Alyssane prepared to face the challenges that lay ahead, knowing that the fate of House Targaryen hung in the balance.

—

In the privacy of Maegor’s Holdfast, Queen Alyssane knelt down beside her grandsons, Prince Viserys and Prince Daemon, their young faces alight with curiosity and innocence. With gentle hands, she gathered them close, preparing to share the news of their newest sibling's arrival.

"My dear grandchildren," she began, her voice soft yet filled with warmth. "I have wonderful news to share with you. You have a new brother."

Prince Viserys, at seven name days old, gazed up at his grandmother with wide eyes, his curiosity piqued. "A new brother?" he echoed, his voice tinged with excitement.

"Yes, my sweet," Queen Alyssane confirmed, her smile tender as she brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "Your father and mother were blessed with another son. He has been named Jaehaerys, in honor of your noble grandfather."

Prince Daemon, at three name days old, shifted eagerly in his grandmother's embrace, his young mind trying to grasp the significance of the news. "Jaehaerys," he repeated, testing out the name on his tongue.

"That's right, Daemon," Queen Alyssane affirmed, her eyes alight with grandmotherly pride. "You now have a younger brother to play with and protect."

As the news settled over them, the young princes exchanged excited glances, their hearts filled with the joy of newfound brotherhood. And as Queen Alyssane held her grandsons close, she knew that their bond would only grow stronger with each passing day, a testament to the enduring legacy of House Targaryen.

—

As ravens took flight from Dragonstone, bearing news of the birth of Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen, the youngest scion of House Targaryen, the tidings spread like wildfire throughout the Seven Kingdoms.

From the bustling streets of King's Landing to the farthest reaches of Westeros, whispers of the newest member of the royal family echoed through every corner of the realm. Town criers heralded the news in market squares, while lords and ladies exchanged excited gossip within the halls of their castles.

In taverns and inns, travelers paused to share in the joyous announcement, raising their tankards in toast to the health and prosperity of the newborn prince. Songs were sung, and feasts were held in celebration of the auspicious occasion, as the people of the Seven Kingdoms rejoiced in the continuation of the Targaryen dynasty.

Even in the distant lands beyond the Narrow Sea, word of Prince Jaehaerys' birth reached the ears of merchants and traders, carrying with it the allure of a new era for Westeros.

And amidst the festivities and fanfare, the legacy of House Targaryen lived on, its influence reaching far and wide, shaping the course of history in ways both great and small.

Chapter Text

As King Viserys Targaryen sat solemnly at the head of the Small Council table in the year 112 AC, his thoughts were consumed by the tragic events of the past few days—the devastating loss of his beloved wife, Queen Aemma, and their newborn child, Prince Baelon. The weight of grief hung heavy upon his shoulders as he struggled to come to terms with the profound loss that had befallen his family.

Around him, the members of his Small Council engaged in discussions about the pressing matters facing the realm. Their voices seemed to fade into the background as Viserys wrestled with his own emotions, his heart heavy with sorrow and regret.

Yet, even in the midst of his grief, Viserys knew that the realm depended on him to provide leadership and direction. With a heavy heart, he forced himself to focus on the task at hand, listening intently as his advisors debated the way forward.

As the discussions continued, Viserys found solace in the counsel of his trusted advisors, drawing strength from their unwavering support. Together, they explored strategies to navigate the challenges that lay ahead, seeking to honor the memory of Queen Aemma and Prince Baelon by ensuring the continued stability and prosperity of the realm.

Though the pain of his loss would never fully fade, Viserys resolved to honor their memory by dedicating himself to the welfare of the Seven Kingdoms. And as the discussions stretched into the night, he remained steadfast in his determination to lead the realm through the darkness, guided by the legacy of House Targaryen and the love he still carried in his heart for those he had lost.

As King Viserys Targaryen listened to his Hand, Otto Hightower, deliver the disturbing news about his brother Damon's behavior, his anger flared to life like a wildfire. The mention of Damon's toast to his late nephew Baelon, naming him as the "Heir for a Day," struck Viserys to the core, igniting a fury unlike any he had felt before.

Viserys clenched his fists, his jaw tightening with barely restrained rage as he absorbed the implications of Damon's actions. To mock the memory of his beloved son, to treat the line of succession with such disrespect—it was an affront that Viserys could not abide.

His voice trembling with fury, Viserys rose from his seat at the Small Council table, his eyes blazing with righteous indignation. "This insult cannot go unanswered," he declared, his words cutting through the air like a blade. "Damon's actions have brought shame upon House Targaryen, and he shall answer for his treachery."

With a steely resolve, Viserys turned to his advisors, his tone leaving no room for dissent. "Summon my brother Damon to court immediately," he commanded. "He will answer for his crimes, and justice will be swift and severe."

As the echoes of his proclamation reverberated through the chamber, Viserys vowed to uphold the honor of his house and the memory of his son, no matter the cost. And as he braced himself for the confrontation that lay ahead, his rage burned hotter than ever before, fueling his determination to mete out justice to those who dared to defy the rightful rule of House Targaryen.

—

In the grandeur of the throne room, the air thick with the weight of history and power, King Viserys Targaryen sat upon the Iron Throne, his regal presence commanding the attention of all who entered. His gaze, sharp as Valyrian steel, swept over the vast chamber, every inch a king in his rightful domain.

Suddenly, the main doors at the far end of the hall swung open with a resounding creak, drawing the attention of all present. A figure strode confidently into the room, the arrogance practically radiating from him like a tangible aura. It was Prince Daemon Targaryen, Viserys' own brother, his smirk twisting into a knowing grin as he locked eyes with the king.

Viserys felt a surge of fury rise within him at the sight of Daemon's smug expression, his blood boiling beneath his skin. How dare his brother show such insolence in the very heart of their power?

Seated upon the throne, the pointed blades sticking out like a fearsome crown, Viserys watched with barely contained rage as Daemon approached, each step a deliberate taunt. The nonchalant demeanor of his brother only served to stoke the flames of Viserys' anger, a seething inferno threatening to consume him whole.

As Daemon drew nearer, his smirk widening with each passing moment, Viserys struggled to maintain his composure. His grip tightened on the armrests of the throne, his knuckles turning white with the effort of restraint.

But beneath the mask of regal poise, Viserys' fury burned bright as dragonfire, ready to erupt at any moment. For in that fateful instant, the rift between brothers widened, a chasm of resentment and betrayal that threatened to tear apart the very fabric of their family's legacy.

"You cut the image of the conqueror, brother," Daemon remarked.

As Daemon's casual remark echoed through the throne room, Viserys felt a surge of frustration coursing through him. His brother's words struck a nerve, igniting a simmering anger that threatened to boil over at any moment.

"Did you say it?" Viserys' voice was low, his tone heavy with barely contained rage. He fixed his gaze upon Daemon, searching for any hint of truth in his brother's eyes, desperately hoping that the accusation was nothing more than a cruel jest.

Daemon halted just at the foot of the throne, his expression a mask of unconcern and confusion. "I don’t know what you mean," he replied casually, his tone betraying none of the turmoil raging within Viserys' heart.

Viserys' words sliced through the tension like a blade, his voice resonating with raw anger as he demanded his brother's obedience. "You will address me as 'Your Grace,' or I will have my Kingsguard cut out your tongue," he commanded, his tone dripping with the weight of his authority. "’The Heir for a Day’, Did you say it?" 

His brother's gaze faltered, a fleeting moment of recognition flashing across his features before he averted his eyes, refusing to meet Viserys' piercing stare. The air crackled with anticipation as Daemon struggled to find his voice, his response hesitant and devoid of the authority he usually carried. 

"We must all mourn in our own way, Your Grace," he finally replied, his words a feeble attempt to deflect Viserys' accusations. But beneath the surface, Viserys could sense the undercurrent of guilt and evasion, fueling the flames of his righteous anger.

Viserys' frustration boiled over, his words dripping with venom as he unleashed the full force of his anger upon his brother. "My family has just been destroyed," he hissed, each syllable laced with bitterness. "Instead of being by my side, or Rhaenyra’s..., you chose to celebrate your own rise! Laughing with your whores and lickspittles!"

The throne room seemed to reverberate with Viserys' fury, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. His voice thundered through the chamber as he bellowed, "You have no allies at court but me! I have only ever defended you! Yet everything I’ve ever given you, you’ve thrown back in my face! Why couldn’t you do your duty?"

Daemon's retort cut through the tension like a knife, his words ringing with long-suppressed resentments. "You've only ever tried to send me away," he spat, his voice edged with bitterness. "To the Vale, to the City Watch, anywhere but by your side. Four years you’ve been king, and not once have you asked me to be your Hand!"

Viserys winced at the truth in Daemon's words, the weight of his brother's accusations pressing down upon him like a heavy burden. Guilt gnawed at his conscience as he recalled the times he had attempted to distance Daemon from the seat of power, fearing the consequences of his brother's volatile temperament.

But even as Viserys struggled to find a response, Daemon's words took a sharper turn, a reminder of another absence that weighed heavily upon their family. "And what of Jae?" Daemon continued, his voice dripping with bitterness. "Our brother, exiled to Essos by our grandfather's decree, all because he dared to rage against the old king after the death of both our father, who died of a burst belly, and mother, who lost the will to live a week later."

The mention of Jaehaerys, or Jae as they called him, cast a shadow over the already fraught conversation, a reminder of the fractures that divided their family. Viserys felt a pang of sorrow at the memory of his youngest brother's exile, a consequence of the turmoil that had gripped their household in the wake of their parents' tragic deaths.

But even as Viserys grappled with his own failings, he could not ignore the bitter reality of Daemon's shortcomings. "You have never done your duty, or been respectful," Viserys retorted, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "Your damn pride got in the way. So why should I give you the Handship, something you aren’t prepared for?"

Daemon's plea for brotherhood stirred something deep within Viserys' heart, a flicker of hope amidst the darkness that threatened to consume them both. "Because I’m your brother," Daemon pleaded, his voice filled with longing. "And the blood of the dragon runs thick."

Viserys' response was laced with bitterness, his tone cutting through the air like a sharpened blade. "That’s rich coming from you, brother," he retorted, his voice tinged with a hint of sarcasm.

The weight of their shared history hung heavy in the air, the echoes of past grievances reverberating between them like a silent accusation. Viserys could feel the tension mounting with each passing moment, the divide between them widening with every word spoken.

"I’ve only ever spoken the truth, and I see Otto Hightower for what he is," Daemon defended, his voice firm with conviction.

Viserys' rebuttal was swift and resolute. "Otto is an unwavering and loyal Hand!" he declared, his words echoing with the certainty of his belief. 

The tension in the room crackled with intensity as the brothers stood locked in their opposing viewpoints. Viserys could feel the weight of his brother's accusations pressing down upon him, challenging the very foundation of his rule. 

"Otto Hightower is a Cunt. A second son who stands to inherit nothing he doesn’t seize for himself," Daemon's words cut through the air like a sharp blade, his voice dripping with disdain.

Viserys' jaw clenched tightly at his brother's harsh assessment, the insult striking a nerve deep within him. Yet, even as anger flared within him, he remained determined to defend Otto's honor.

"Regardless of his birthright, Otto has proven himself time and time again," Viserys retorted, his voice firm with conviction. "He serves the realm with unwavering loyalty and dedication, qualities that are far more valuable than any inherited title."

"He doesn’t protect you," his brother's accusation hung heavy in the air, his tone laced with bitterness. "I would."

Viserys felt a surge of conflicting emotions coursing through him at Daemon's words. The accusation stung, a reminder of the vulnerabilities that lurked beneath the surface of his rule. And yet, beneath the anger and resentment, he sensed a flicker of genuine concern in his brother's words.

"What are you speaking of? From what?" Viserys questioned, genuine confusion clouding his features as he sought clarity from his brother's cryptic words.

"Yourself," his brother replied, his tone dripping with disdain. Viserys felt a surge of disbelief wash over him at the audacity of Daemon's accusation. The gall of the man to speak to him in such a manner.

"You’re a weak king, Viserys," Daemon continued, his voice laced with mockery as he delivered the harsh truth. "And the council of leeches knows it. They all prey on you for their own ends."

Viserys felt a cold knot forming in the pit of his stomach at his brother's words. The accusation struck at the core of his insecurities, a painful reminder of the challenges that had plagued his reign. And yet, even as doubt gnawed at his confidence, he refused to yield to his brother's taunts.

Viserys' voice cut through the tension like a blade, each word dripping with icy resolve. "I have decided to name a new heir," he declared, the weight of his decision breaking the silence that hung heavy in the air.

"I am your heir," his brother protested, his voice tinged with confusion and disbelief. But Viserys knew that the bonds of kinship had been irreparably shattered by his brother's betrayal.

"Not anymore," Viserys retorted, his tone unwavering. "You are to return to Runestone and your lady wife at once. And you are to do so without quarrel. Let’s see if you still can do your duty. That is an order by your King," he commanded, his words carrying the weight of his authority as he ordered his brother away.

As the weight of Viserys' decree settled over them, the brothers stood locked in a silent standoff, the rift between them widening with each passing moment.

As his brother moved forward, the Kingsguards sprang into action, unsheathing their swords with practiced precision to block his access. The gleam of Ser Ryam Redwyne's white blade caught the flickering torchlight, casting a dramatic shadow across the hall. Daemon's expression flickered between shock and disdain as he regarded the formidable barrier before him.

"Your Grace," his brother spoke lowly, his voice heavy with resignation as he lowered his head in a respectful bow before turning to depart from the main hall. Viserys watched him go, the weight of his decision heavy upon his heart.

As the tension of the moment began to dissipate, Viserys leaned back into his chair and closed his eyes, exhaustion washing over him like a tidal wave. His heart was heavy with pain, but his resolve remained unyielding. For in that moment, he knew that the path forward would be fraught with challenges and hardships, but he was determined to see it through to the end.

—

In the hushed confines of the Small Council Chamber, the members gathered to discuss the pressing matters that lay before them. The flickering torches cast dancing shadows upon the faces of those assembled, lending an air of solemnity to the proceedings.

As the conversation turned to the topic of Prince Jaehaerys's exile, Lord Lyonel Strong, the Master of Laws, cleared his throat, his voice breaking the silence like a thunderclap in the stillness of the chamber.

"My lords and ladies," he began, his tone measured and grave, "it is time that we address the issue of Prince Jaehaerys's exile. It has been many years since he was banished to Essos, and I believe the time has come for us to consider recalling him to Westeros."

A murmur of agreement rippled through the chamber as the Council members exchanged cautious glances, weighing the implications of Lord Strong's proposal.

Viserys, seated at the head of the table, furrowed his brow in contemplation. The memory of his youngest brother's banishment weighed heavily upon his heart, a constant reminder of the rift that had torn their family asunder.

"And what of the circumstances of his exile?" Otto Hightower interjected, his voice tinged with skepticism. "Are we to forget the reasons that led to his departure so hastily?"

Lord Strong nodded solemnly, acknowledging the validity of Otto's concerns. "Indeed, Lord Hightower," he replied, his gaze unwavering. "But we must also consider the passage of time and the possibility of redemption. Jaehaerys is of royal blood, and it is our duty to offer him the chance to return to his homeland."

Viserys listened intently to the debate that ensued, his mind wrestling with the complexities of the decision that lay before them. Guilt gnawed at his conscience as he pondered the fate of his exiled brother, torn between the obligations of duty and the bonds of kinship.

As the Council deliberated on the merits of Lord Strong's suggestion, Viserys found himself grappling with the weight of his own remorse. For in that moment, he knew that the time had come to confront the ghosts of the past and seek redemption for the sins that had torn their family apart.

With a heavy heart and a sense of resignation, Viserys silenced Otto's protests, his voice firm yet tinged with sorrow. "I understand your concerns, Lord Hightower, but I believe it is time to reconsider Prince Jaehaerys's exile," he said, his tone carrying the weight of his decision.

Otto's brow furrowed in consternation, his gaze flickering with apprehension. "Your Grace, we mustn't forget the circumstances that led to his banishment," he urged, his voice laced with caution.

Viserys nodded solemnly, acknowledging the validity of Otto's concerns. "Indeed, Lord Hightower, but we cannot allow past grievances to dictate our future actions," he replied, his tone measured yet resolute.

Lord Lyonel Strong, the Master of Laws, interjected, his voice carrying a note of conviction. "I agree with His Grace. Prince Jaehaerys deserves the chance to return home and prove himself worthy of redemption," he stated, his gaze unwavering.

The other members of the Council murmured their agreement, their expressions reflecting a mix of apprehension and hope.

Viserys sighed heavily, the weight of his decision settling like a leaden cloak upon his shoulders. "Very well," he conceded, his voice tinged with regret. "Send a message to Prince Jaehaerys in Essos, recalling from exile."

As the Council adjourned and the members began to file out of the chamber, Viserys remained seated at the table, his mind consumed by thoughts of his exiled brother. Guilt gnawed at him, a relentless reminder of the rift that had torn their family apart.

But even amidst the turmoil that threatened to consume him, Viserys clung to a glimmer of hope. For in the possibility of Jaehaerys's return lay the chance for reconciliation and healing, a path forward guided by the promise of redemption. And though the road ahead would be fraught with challenges and uncertainty, Viserys was determined to see it through to the end, for the sake of his family and the future of their dynasty.

—

As Jaehaerys Targaryen stood atop the hill, the vast expanse of the Dothraki Sea stretched out before him like a sea of grass rippling in the wind. His black and red armor gleamed in the sunlight, a testament to his lineage and his determination to reclaim his birthright.

Beside him, Dragon's Wrath, his Valyrian Steel Sword, rested in its scabbard, a silent promise of the bloodshed to come. Behind him, his ‘Dragon's Legion’ stood at the ready, an army of former slaves he had trained and molded into formidable warriors.

Across the plain, the Dothraki horde gathered, their war cries echoing across the grasslands like a thunderous storm. Jaehaerys could feel the tension in the air, the anticipation of battle hanging heavy upon them all.

As Jaehaerys stood at the forefront of his army, the ground beneath him trembled with anticipation. Suddenly, from the heavens above, a mighty roar echoed across the Dothraki Sea, shaking the very earth beneath their feet.

With a deafening thunder, Gaelithox, once known as the Cannibal, descended from the clouds, his massive form casting a shadow over the battlefield. His scales gleamed like polished obsidian in the sunlight, and his fiery eyes burned with an otherworldly intensity.

As he landed before Jaehaerys, the ground quaked beneath his weight, sending shockwaves rippling through the air. The Dothraki horde faltered, their steeds rearing in fear at the sight of the fearsome dragon before them.

But Jaehaerys stood resolute, his gaze meeting Gaelithox's with unwavering determination. For in that moment, he knew that the dragon was not his enemy, but his ally in the battle that lay ahead.

With a nod of acknowledgment, Jaehaerys raised his sword high, the Valyrian Steel blade gleaming in the sunlight. And as Gaelithox let out another deafening roar, the Dragon's legion surged forward, ready to face their enemies with courage and determination.

For together, with dragon and man united in purpose, they would carve their own destiny upon the canvas of history, and write a new chapter in the annals of destiny.

Chapter Text

As Viserys sat in his chambers, meticulously working on his Valyrian model, his mind drifted to thoughts of his youngest brother, Jaehaerys. Tales of Jaehaerys's exploits as 'The Dragon Mage' had spread far and wide, reaching from Essos across the Narrow Sea. His war against slavery had resonated throughout the realm, earning him both admiration and fear in equal measure.

Viserys couldn't help but feel a pang of envy towards Jaehaerys, wishing at times that he were the one hailed as the hero of their family. Despite his own position as the firstborn son and heir to the throne, he admired Jaehaerys's unique blend of strength, cunning, and compassion. In many ways, Jaehaerys embodied the qualities that Viserys himself aspired to possess.

Lost in his contemplations, Viserys was jolted back to reality by a knock on the door, interrupting his thoughts and drawing his attention away from his Valyrian model.

"The Lady Alicent Hightower, Your Grace," Ser Ryam announced, ushering Alicent into Viserys's chambers. Viserys rose from his seat, acknowledging her presence with a nod of his head. "What is it, Alicent?" he inquired, curiosity flickering in his eyes as he gestured for her to take a seat.

Alicent entered, holding a book in her hands, her demeanor timid yet determined. "I came in to look into you, Your Grace. I brought a book," she explained softly, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

As Ser Ryam closed the door behind him, Viserys smiled warmly at Alicent's gesture. "That is very kind," he replied, genuine appreciation evident in his tone.

"It’s a favorite of mine. I do know how passionate you are about the histories," Alicent continued as she took a seat across from Viserys, her gaze fixed on the Valyrian model that adorned his chambers.

Viserys nodded in acknowledgment, his attention divided between Alicent and his work. As he resumed sculpting the model, Alicent spoke again, her words carrying a weight of sincerity and vulnerability.

"When my mother died, people only ever spoke to me in riddles. All I wanted was for someone to say that they were sorry for what happened to me," she confessed, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness.

Viserys felt a pang of empathy at her words, his thoughts drifting back to his own grief and loss. The memory of his wife's death still lingered heavily in his heart, a wound that had yet to fully heal.

"I’m very sorry, Your Grace," Alicent offered, her apology a balm to his wounded soul.

Viserys nodded, gratitude shining in his eyes as he met Alicent's gaze. In that moment, he realized the significance of her presence and the comfort she had offered him in his time of need.

"Thank you, Alicent," he murmured softly, a sense of calm settling over him as he continued to work on his Valyrian model. In the midst of his grief and turmoil, Alicent's presence had brought him a measure of solace, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there was still light to be found in the kindness of others.

—

Rhaenyra walked over to the skull of Balerion, the Black Dread, a majestic shrine erected in honor of the fallen legend. The massive skull loomed before her, a testament to the power and might of the ancient dragon. 

As she stood before the shrine, Rhaenyra couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and reverence wash over her. Balerion's skull was a favorite spot of hers since childhood, a place of quiet contemplation and solace amidst the chaos of courtly life.

In the presence of the legendary dragon's remains, Rhaenyra felt a connection to the past, to a time when dragons ruled the skies and the fate of kingdoms hung in the balance. It was a reminder of her family's legacy, of the Targaryen dynasty's enduring power and influence.

With a sense of reverence, Rhaenyra reached out to touch the weathered bone of Balerion's skull, feeling the weight of history and destiny pressing down upon her. In that moment, she knew that she walked among legends, and that the spirit of Balerion the Black Dread would forever live on in the hearts and minds of those who revered him.

As Rhaenyra approached her father, she couldn't help but feel a sense of curiosity and intrigue at his unusual display of fire manipulation. Targaryens were known for their affinity with dragons and fire, and it seemed that her father possessed some degree of fire resistance as well.

"Father," she spoke softly, her voice tinged with confusion as she tried to make sense of the situation.

Viserys paused in his movements, his hands hovering over the flames, before turning to face his daughter. His gaze was intense, filled with a mixture of solemnity and contemplation. "Balerion was the last living creature to have seen Old Valyria before the Doom, its greatness and its flaws," he explained, his voice carrying the weight of centuries of history.

Rhaenyra listened intently, her curiosity piqued by her father's words. She had always been fascinated by the dragons and the stories of their ancient origins. But when Viserys turned to her and posed his question, she found herself momentarily taken aback.

"When you look at the dragons, what do you see?" he asked, his gaze searching hers for an answer.

Rhaenyra's confusion deepened at her father's abrupt interruption. "What? You haven’t spoken a word to me since Mother's and Baelon's funeral. Now you summon me here escorted by your Kingsguard..." she began, her voice tinged with frustration.

But Viserys cut her off, his tone firm and insistent. "Answer me. It’s important. What do you see?" he pressed, his gaze unwavering as he sought his daughter's response.

Caught off guard by her father's intensity, Rhaenyra hesitated for a moment before gathering her thoughts. She looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of what he might be implying with his question. Then, with a sense of determination, she spoke.

“I suppose I see our family.” She said, glancing toward her father; Viserys urged his daughter on. “Many believe us closer to gods than to men, but that is only because of our dragons. Without them, we are just like the rest of the people.” She finished hesitantly.

Viserys nodded, acknowledging his daughter's words with a thoughtful expression. "Many believe us closer to gods than to men, but that is only because of our dragons," Rhaenyra continued, her gaze drifting toward her father as she spoke. "Without them, we are just like the rest of the people."

Viserys listened intently, his eyes reflecting a mixture of pride and sadness at his daughter's insight. He smiled as he looked at her.

“The Old King Jaehaerys asked my youngest brother the same thing.” Viserys said, “Do you wish to know what he said?”

Viserys's mention of his youngest brother Jaehaerys piqued Rhaenyra's curiosity. Although she had only been a babe when Jaehaerys was exiled to Essos, she had heard tales of his legendary exploits over the years. The name "Dragon Mage" had become synonymous with courage and heroism, whispered in hushed tones across the realm.

Intrigued by her father's revelation, Rhaenyra couldn't help but feel a surge of curiosity. "What did Uncle Jaehaerys say?" she asked, her voice tinged with anticipation. She leaned in slightly, eager to hear the words of the legendary Dragon Mage and Breaker of Chains.

Viserys nodded, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips as he recalled his brother's words. "He said, 'I see wonder and power that we have to respect. I know my bond with Gaelithox. I do not have control, only a bond,'" Viserys repeated, his voice tinged with admiration for Jaehaerys's unwavering dedication to his dragon companion.

Rhaenyra's fascination with her youngest uncle and his legendary dragon companion deepened with each word spoken by her father. She could scarcely believe the tales she had heard of Gaelithox, the mighty dragon who had once been known as the Cannibal—a creature of such ferocity and power that it had struck fear into the hearts of even the bravest dragonlords.

But now, as she stood in the quiet solitude of the shrine, Rhaenyra found herself marveling at the bond that had formed between Jaehaerys and his steadfast companion. She imagined the two of them soaring through the skies of Essos, their spirits intertwined in a dance of fire and blood.

"He understood the true nature of their bond," Viserys continued, his gaze drifting toward the shrine of Balerion. "Jaehaerys may be far from home, but his spirit remains unbroken. He is a true Targaryen, bound by blood and fire, even in exile."

Viserys's words resonated deeply with Rhaenyra, stirring within her a newfound understanding of the true nature of dragons and their place in the world. She listened intently as her father spoke of the dangers of wielding such power, of the folly of believing that they could ever truly control the ancient beasts that had shaped the destiny of their house.

"The idea that we control the dragons is only an illusion," Viserys continued, his voice tinged with solemnity. "They're a power man should not have trifled with. One that brought Valyria its doom. If we don't mind our own histories, it will do the same to us."

Rhaenyra nodded in solemn agreement, her mind swirling with thoughts of the ancient mysteries and dangers that lurked within the hearts of dragons. She understood now that their power was not something to be taken lightly, but rather something to be respected and feared in equal measure.

As Viserys came to stand directly in front of her, his gaze piercing and intense, Rhaenyra felt a surge of determination coursing through her veins. She knew that as a Targaryen, she bore a responsibility to honor the legacy of her house and to safeguard the future of their realm.

"Targaryens must understand this to be King and Queen Consort," her father declared, his words echoing with the weight of centuries of tradition and duty.

Rhaenyra's heart skipped a beat as the weight of her father's words washed over her. She felt a surge of emotion welling up inside her, a mixture of surprise, gratitude, and a profound sense of belonging. She had never expected to hear such words from her father, never imagined that he held such sentiments within his heart.

"What?" she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, her eyes wide with disbelief. Viserys looked at her with a sad and regretful expression, his gaze filled with a depth of emotion that she had rarely seen in him before.

"I have wasted the years since your birth wanting for a son," Viserys confessed, his voice tinged with sorrow. "When the whole time, you and Jaehaerys have stood before me. You two are everything I wished in my successors, and in Jaehaerys, everything I ever wished I had in a son of my own. I see him as one, even if we are brothers. You and Jaehaerys are the best of our blood, our hope for the future."

“What? You want me to marry uncle Jaehaerys? And you're going to make him your heir?" Rhaenyra asked, half in shock.

Viserys met Rhaenyra's gaze with a solemn nod. "I understand it is sudden," he admitted, his voice tinged with regret. "But this way, Aemma's legacy is protected. I have seen how kind and loving a person Jaehaerys is. There is no one I would place more trust in to care for you than him."

As Rhaenyra struggled to comprehend the magnitude of her father's words, Viserys continued, his voice low and filled with resolve. "As for his exile, I've already sent him a message in Essos to come home. His exile is ended."

The weight of Viserys's declaration hung heavy in the air, a solemn testament to the bonds of family and the legacy of House Targaryen. And as Rhaenyra looked into her father's eyes, she knew that this decision, though unexpected, was made with love and a steadfast commitment to their family's future.

“I do have plans for the succession,” Viserys said. “Daemon was not made to wear the crown. But I believe you two were.” He looked at her with a smile. “This isn’t a trivial gesture or a thought I had on a whim. A dragon saddle is one thing, but the Iron Throne is the most dangerous seat in the realm, Rhaenyra.”

"There is something else that I need to tell you," Viserys began, his voice carrying a weight of solemnity. "Something I shared with your mother when I was made heir, something Jaehaerys already knows."

The mention of hrr mother stirred a pang of longing in Rhaenyra's heart. She exchanged a silent look with her father, sensing that whatever he was about to reveal held great significance.

"What I’m about to tell you both might be difficult to understand," Viserys continued, his gaze shifting to his daughter with a mixture of earnestness and compassion. 

As Viserys spoke, his gaze drifted toward the imposing skull of Balerion, the Black Dread, a silent sentinel that bore witness to the grandeur and the downfall of House Targaryen. His words carried a weight of history and prophecy, weaving a tapestry of past and future that stretched across the ages.

"Our history tells us that Aegon looked across the shores of the Blackwater and saw a rich land ripe for the capture," Viserys continued, his voice tinged with reverence for the legendary conqueror. "But ambition alone is not what drove him to conquest. And just as Daenys foresaw the end of Valyria, Aegon foresaw the end of the world of men."

Viserys paused, his gaze turning to meet Rhaenyra's, seeking the reaction he had anticipated. And as he watched the emotions play across her face—awe, curiosity, and a hint of trepidation—he knew that she understood the gravity of his words, the weight of the legacy that had been entrusted to their family for generations to come.

As Viserys revealed the ancient prophecy, a shroud of solemnity descended upon the chamber, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air like a looming storm on the horizon. Rhaenyra listened intently, her heart gripped by the gravity of his revelation.

"It is, to begin with, a terrible winter," Viserys began, his voice somber and measured, "a gusting wind will come from it, and Aegon saw absolute darkness riding on those winds. Whatever is inside those winds will destroy the world of the living.”

Viserys paused, allowing the weight of his words to sink in before continuing, "If our world is to survive, all of Westeros must stand united against it, and a Targaryen must be seated on the Iron Throne. It has been passed from heir to heir since Aegon’s time. He called it ‘A Song of Ice and Fire’.”

He turned to Rhaenyra, his gaze unwavering, "I shared it with Aemma; she knew about it. Jaehaerys heard of it from the Old King Jaehaerys himself. As you will be his Queen Consort, I shared it with you. As you will share the burden together.”

Viserys's expression softened with a pang of sorrow as he spoke of his late wife, Aemma. "I need you to promise me you protect this secret,” he implored, his eyes searching hers for the assurance he sought.

“I promise father, as your daughter and future wife of King Jaehaerys.” She said, her voice full of conviction.

Viserys nodded, a flicker of relief crossing his features at Rhaenyra's solemn vow. "Thank you, my dear," he said, his voice heavy with emotion. "This burden is not one to bear lightly, but I trust that you and Jaehaerys will carry it with the same courage and honor that has always defined our house."

With a sense of resolve settling over him, Viserys turned back to the skull of Balerion, the ancient dragon's presence a silent witness to the weighty secrets they now shared.

As they were about to leave the room, they stopped as they saw an inexplicable sight. Rhaenyra and Viserys exchanged stunned glances as a silver spectral dragon floated gracefully toward them, its ethereal form shimmering in the dim light of the chamber.

As the dragon spoke, it spoke in Jaehaerys's voice.

"Brother," the spectral dragon spoke in Jaehaerys's voice, "I have received your command to return. I will do as my king commands. Expect me by noon tomorrow.”

Viserys nodded in acknowledgement, his heart swelling with pride at his youngest brother's unwavering loyalty. "Thank you, Jaehaerys," he said, his voice tinged with gratitude.

"What was that spectre, father?" Rhaenyra asked, her voice tinged with awe and curiosity.

Viserys smiled softly at his daughter's question, a glint of pride shining in his eyes. "That was no ordinary spectre, Rhaenyra," he explained, his tone gentle yet filled with a sense of wonder. "That was what Jaehaerys calls a ‘Patronus’, a guardian spirit made of hope and love. Jaehaerys would use it as method reaching out to us as a young boy. It seems my youngest brother wastes no time in heeding my call.”

Rhaenyra listened intently, her curiosity piqued by her father's explanation. The concept of a Patronus was unfamiliar to her, but she couldn't deny the sense of hope and reassurance that washed over her at the sight of the spectral dragon. "So Jaehaerys is truly coming home," she murmured, a smile spreading across her face. "I can't wait to meet him.”

Viserys returned her smile, a warmth spreading in his chest at the prospect of their family being reunited once more. "Indeed, Rhaenyra," he replied, his voice tinged with excitement. "It will be a joyous occasion for us all." With a final glance at the spectral dragon, he led his daughter out of the chamber, their hearts filled with anticipation for the homecoming of Jaehaerys, the Dragon Mage.

Chapter Text

As Otto Hightower sat in the council chamber, his mind churned with calculations and schemes. The news of Prince Daemon's dismissal and banishment to the Vale had sent ripples of satisfaction through him. It was a step towards securing his daughter's path to the throne, a position he had long envisioned for her.

His daughter's visit to the king had gone without incident, a promising sign that she was beginning to gain his favor. With each passing day, he could see the pieces of his plan falling into place. If all went according to his designs, his daughter would ascend to the throne as queen, and perhaps even bear a son to secure the future of House Hightower.

If his daughter were to bear a son, he knew that Viserys would likely prioritize the child's claim to the throne over that of his own daughter. It was a risk he was willing to take, knowing that a grandson born of Hightower blood would still serve to strengthen their hold on power.

However, if the king showed no inclination towards marrying his daughter, Otto saw another path to influence. With two sons of his own, one of whom remained unmarried, he realized that a strategic marriage alliance could still be forged. A union between his son and the king's daughter would not only solidify their familial ties but also position his family at the heart of royal affairs.

In either scenario, Otto Hightower remained determined to ensure that House Hightower played a central role in the future of the Seven Kingdoms. Whether through direct succession or strategic alliances, he was prepared to navigate the treacherous waters of court politics to safeguard his family's legacy and secure their place on the Iron Throne.

However, all was not well in his world, as the exile of the King's youngest brother Prince Jaehaerys had been revoked. He hoped that the king would not pour water on all of his efforts by naming Jaehaerys as his heir.

As Otto mulled over the implications of Jaehaerys's return from exile, a sense of unease settled over him. Unlike Daemon, Jaehaerys possessed a formidable reputation built upon his valiant efforts to combat slavery in Essos. Despite his years in exile, Jaehaerys had garnered widespread admiration and support among the common folk of Westeros, earning him the moniker of the Dragon Mage.

For Otto, Jaehaerys represented a potential threat to his carefully laid plans for securing power and influence within the realm. The young prince's popularity and charisma made him a formidable adversary, one who could rally support against Otto's ambitions. Moreover, Jaehaerys's familial ties to the king only served to elevate his standing and increase his claim to the throne.

In light of Jaehaerys's impending return, Otto knew that he would need to tread carefully and reassess his strategies for maintaining control over the court. The Dragon Mage's presence would undoubtedly complicate matters, posing a significant challenge to Otto's efforts to consolidate power and influence. As he contemplated the road ahead, Otto resolved to devise a plan to neutralize Jaehaerys's threat and protect his family's interests in the face of mounting opposition.

Viserys's voice echoed in the council chamber, commanding the attention of all who had gathered within its walls. His words carried a weight of authority as he addressed the assembled lords and advisors, each one awaiting his decree with bated breath.

"My lords, as you all might have heard last night," Viserys began, his tone firm and resolute, "I banished Daemon to Runestone. As punishment for the words he spoke about my heir and family.”

The gravity of Viserys's proclamation hung heavy in the air, casting a somber pall over the room as the councilors absorbed the implications of his decision. Daemon's banishment marked a significant shift in the dynamics of court politics, signaling Viserys's unwavering commitment to upholding the honor and integrity of the crown.

As the murmurs of the councilors filled the chamber, Viserys surveyed the faces before him, his gaze unwavering. 

"With the passing of my wife and son, and with Daemon disinherited, I have need of a true heir,” the king declared, his voice ringing with authority throughout the chamber. The weight of his words settled heavily upon those gathered, each one keenly aware of the significance of Viserys's proclamation.

"I have come toward a decision," Viserys continued, his gaze sweeping across the faces of the councilors assembled before him. "I have decided to name my youngest brother Jaehaerys Targaryen as heir."

The announcement sent ripples of shock and surprise through the council chamber, murmurs breaking out among the assembled lords and advisors. Jaehaerys's sudden elevation to the position of heir apparent caught many off guard, prompting whispered conversations and exchanged glances as the implications of Viserys's decision began to sink in.

Yet, despite the initial surprise, there was an air of solemn acceptance in the chamber, a recognition of the king's authority and wisdom in selecting Jaehaerys as his successor. As Viserys looked upon the faces of those gathered before him, he knew that his decision would shape the course of the realm for generations to come.

Viserys's words hung heavy in the air, leaving no room for argument or dissent. The council chamber fell silent as the weight of the king's decision settled over them like a shroud. 

Otto's mouth fell open, a protest forming on his lips.

“Your grace, If I may have a word,” he spoke up.

However, Viserys' stern gaze silenced him before he could speak.

“No, you may not,” Viserys declared, his voice resolute and unwavering. “I have made my decision.”

The finality in Viserys's tone brooked no further discussion, and Otto could only nod in reluctant acceptance. It was clear that the king had resolved to see his plans through, regardless of any objections or concerns.

“At the end of the year, the lords will come to swear fealty to my chosen heir and me,” Viserys continued, his voice commanding the attention of all present. “After that, on a date decided by myself and my brother, the wedding of Jaehaerys and Rhaenyra will be held.”

With those words, Viserys laid out the roadmap for the future of the realm, his authority unquestioned as he set in motion the events that would shape the destiny of House Targaryen and the Seven Kingdoms.

“A wise choice, your grace. Jaehaerys has proven his leadership with his campaign against the slavers of Essos. As well as having brought the lost Valyrian Magical Arts back into the world. The trade that the crown has received from the Free city of Braavos have increased greatly due to him. I am delighted to start working with your chosen heir, your grace,” Lord Lyman Beesbury, the Master of Coin mumbled; the man was clearly far too excited about coins.

Viserys nodded in acknowledgment of Lord Lyman's words, though his expression remained guarded. While he appreciated the support, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the back of his mind. Jaehaerys's accomplishments in Essos were indeed impressive, but they also underscored the growing influence and power that his youngest brother wielded beyond the borders of Westeros.

"Your enthusiasm is noted, Lord Beesbury," Viserys replied diplomatically, careful to maintain a neutral tone. "I trust that Jaehaerys will bring his expertise and talents to bear in service to the realm."

“My uncle Jaehaerys has my full support; my mother loved him dearly, and spoke highly of him whenever she had the chance,” Rhaenyra said.

Otto was shocked by her reaction, as there went the only one beside Grandmaester Melos he hoped would show some discomfort towards Jaehaerys being named heir.

Viserys offered his daughter a grateful smile, touched by her words of support for her uncle Jaehaerys. Her endorsement of his decision brought a measure of reassurance amidst the tension that hung heavy in the council chamber.

"Thank you, Rhaenyra," Viserys said, his voice tinged with emotion. "Your mother's wisdom and judgment were unparalleled, and I have no doubt that she saw the same qualities in Jaehaerys that I do."

Turning his attention to Otto, Viserys met the Lord Hand's shocked expression with a steely gaze. While he understood Otto's concerns, the decision had been made, and he would brook no further dissent.

"It seems my daughter shares my confidence in Jaehaerys's abilities," Viserys remarked, his tone firm. "I trust that you will extend the same courtesy, Lord Hightower.”

Viserys's words echoed through the chamber, carrying a weight that brooked no argument. Otto Hightower, though visibly taken aback by Rhaenyra's endorsement of Jaehaerys, offered a curt nod in response to Viserys's directive.

"Of course, Your Grace," Otto replied, his voice strained with an underlying tension. "I shall do my utmost to support your decision and ensure a smooth transition."

With that, the council meeting continued, though the atmosphere remained tense as the ramifications of Viserys's decision reverberated through the room.

Lord Corlys Velaryon, Master of Ships, cleared his throat, his gaze shifting to Viserys. "Your Grace, may I inquire as to when we expect Prince Jaehaerys to arrive? It would be prudent to make the necessary arrangements for his return to King's Landing."

Viserys nodded thoughtfully, considering the logistics of Jaehaerys's homecoming. "Prince Jaehaerys has been informed of his recall from exile and should be arriving by noon tomorrow," he replied, his voice steady and authoritative. "I trust that all preparations for his return will be made promptly."

Lord Corlys bowed his head in acknowledgment, his mind already turning to the myriad tasks that lay ahead in welcoming back the long-awaited prince.

Grandmaester Melos's mind was consumed by the memories of the past, the weight of guilt and fear pressing down upon him like a suffocating shroud. The events of eleven years ago loomed large in his thoughts, a haunting reminder of the consequences of his actions and the choices he had made.

As he sat in the council chamber, paralyzed by his apprehension at the prospect of Prince Jaehaerys's return, Grandmaester Melos grappled with the knowledge that his distrust and skepticism had played a role in shaping the tragic events that had unfolded. The decision to bar the young prince from using his magic to heal his father had been made out of fear and ignorance, a choice born from a lack of understanding and a refusal to accept the unknown.

But the consequences of that decision had been dire, leading to the untimely deaths of Prince Baelon and Princess Alyssa, and plunging the realm into a state of mourning and despair. The weight of guilt weighed heavily on Grandmaester Melos's conscience, a constant reminder of the lives lost and the pain inflicted by his actions.

He still remembered when he had dared to question what the young Prince could have done to save his father, trying to underplay his powers, the young Prince had looked at him as if he was scum on earth. And then, with a single word had plunged his world into unimaginable pain.

“Crucio!” He had said, with a sneer on his face.

As he watched the council proceedings unfold, Grandmaester Melos could not shake the feeling of dread that gripped him, knowing that the return of Prince Jaehaerys threatened to reignite the flames of past grievances and sow the seeds of discord once more. But amidst his fear and uncertainty, there lingered a glimmer of hope, a flicker of possibility that perhaps, in facing the mistakes of the past, there lay the chance for redemption and reconciliation.

—

As the gentle breeze rustled through the leaves of the Heart Tree, Rhaenyra and Alicent sat in the dappled shade, enveloped by the soothing melody of Samwell's lute and song. With "Ten Thousand Ships" in hand, Rhaenyra delved into the tale of adventure and exploration, her mind drifting across the vast expanse of the Narrow Sea alongside the characters in the book.

Beside her, Alicent listened with a serene expression, her features softened by the enchanting music that filled the air. The sun danced playfully through the canopy above, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow on the ground beneath their feet.

As the song ends, Alicent could not help herself from asking the question that was playing in her mind.

“Rhaenyra, how do you feel knowing that you are now betrothed to your Uncle Jaehaerys, who you last met when you were just 4 Name Days old?”

Alicent's question pierced the tranquil atmosphere of the Godswood, drawing Rhaenyra back from the world of Ten Thousand Ships to the present moment. Setting the book aside, Rhaenyra turned to her friend, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"It's... a lot to take in," Rhaenyra admitted, her gaze drifting to the Heart Tree's ancient face. "I barely remember Jaehaerys from when I was a child. But I've heard stories about him, about his bravery and his dedication to our family. And now, to think that I'll be betrothed to him..." She trailed off, uncertainty flickering in her eyes.

"But I trust Father's judgment," Rhaenyra continued, a note of conviction entering her voice. "If he believes that Jaehaerys is the right choice to be my husband and our future king, then I will stand by that decision. It's what's best for our family and for the realm."

Alicent nodded, her expression thoughtful as she absorbed Rhaenyra's words. "It's a great responsibility, but I have no doubt that you'll rise to the occasion, Rhaenyra," she said, offering her friend a reassuring smile. "And Jaehaerys... well, we'll just have to wait and see what kind of man he's become.”

The sudden roar and the sight of Gaelithox descending from the clouds sent a shiver down Rhaenyra's spine, her eyes widening in awe and trepidation. Beside her, Alicent gasped, her hand instinctively reaching out to grasp Rhaenyra's arm for support.

"It's Gaelithox," Rhaenyra murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as they watched the massive dragon circle above King's Landing, casting its ominous shadow over the city below. "He's... magnificent."

Alicent's surprise at the sheer size and nimbleness of Gaelithox compared to Syrax, Rhaenyra's dragon, was evident in the widening of her eyes and the slight tremble in her voice as she spoke. "I've seen Syrax before, but... this is something else entirely," she murmured, her gaze fixed on the majestic dragon as it circled above them.

"The legends say that Gaelithox is as old, if not older, than Balerion," Rhaenyra explained, her tone filled with a mixture of reverence and awe. "To see him in flight is truly a sight to behold."

As Gaelithox continued to soar through the sky, his presence looming large over King's Landing, Rhaenyra couldn't shake the feeling of both wonder and apprehension that gripped her heart.

Ser Harrold Westerling, the Kingsguard assigned to guard Princess Rhaenyra, entered the Godswood with a solemn expression. "Princess Rhaenyra, the carriage that is to take you to the dragonpit to welcome Prince Jaehaerys awaits," he announced respectfully, his voice carrying through the peaceful setting of the Godswood. 

Rhaenyra nodded, setting aside her book and rising from her seat beneath the Heart Tree. "Thank you, Ser Harrold. Please lead the way," she said, her tone composed yet tinged with anticipation for the long-awaited reunion with her uncle. 

As they made their way out of the Godswood and toward the awaiting carriage, Rhaenyra couldn't shake the excitement building within her.

As the carriage arrived at the dragonpit, Rhaenyra stepped out, her eyes immediately drawn to the majestic sight of Gaelithox descending from the sky. She couldn't help but feel a surge of awe at the sight of the ancient dragon, his massive form casting a shadow over the gathered crowd.

King Viserys stood at the forefront, flanked by his Small Council, ready to welcome his brother Jaehaerys. Rhaenyra approached her father's side, her heart pounding with anticipation as she awaited the arrival of her long-lost uncle.

As Gaelithox landed gracefully within the dragonpit, the air was filled with a sense of anticipation and excitement. Rhaenyra watched as her uncle dismounted, jumping off of the saddle onto the ground below, his presence commanding the attention of all who were present.

As Jaehaerys landed with a grace that can only be described as superhuman, Rhaenyra couldn't help but be struck by his imposing presence. Clad in pitch-black armor with striking red accents, he stood before them like a figure out of legend. The helm he wore, with its single crest reminiscent of a dragon's bony protrusion, added to his intimidating aura.

Rhaenyra couldn't shake the feeling of awe that washed over her as she looked upon her uncle. His resemblance to Balerion in human form was uncanny, a testament to the Targaryen legacy of power and majesty. She couldn't deny the sense of pride that swelled within her at the sight of him, knowing that he was now to be her betrothed and, potentially, the future king of Westeros.

As Jaehaerys removed his helm, Rhaenyra's breath caught in her throat at the sight before her. His silver locks cascaded around his face in an almost chaotic manner, yet instead of detracting from his appearance, it only served to enhance his allure. There was a wildness to his features, a ruggedness that contrasted with the refined elegance of his Valyrian heritage.

Rhaenyra couldn't tear her gaze away as she drank in every detail of his face—the strong, chiseled jawline, the intense violet eyes that seemed to pierce through her soul, and the subtle curve of his lips that hinted at a hint of mischief lurking beneath his stoic demeanor. In that moment, she realized that Jaehaerys possessed a beauty that transcended the mere physical, a magnetism that drew her in with an irresistible force.

Her heart fluttered in her chest as she stood transfixed by his presence, unable to deny the undeniable pull she felt toward him. With each passing second, she found herself falling deeper under his spell, captivated by the enigmatic charm of the Dragon Mage before her.

As Jaehaerys bowed before King Viserys, a sense of solemnity filled the air, mingled with a palpable undercurrent of emotion. Viserys regarded his brother with a mixture of pride and relief, his gaze lingering on Jaehaerys's face as if trying to imprint the moment into his memory forever.

"Welcome home, Jaehaerys," Viserys said, his voice thick with emotion. "It gladdens my heart to see you once again, after all these years."

Jaehaerys straightened, his eyes meeting Viserys's with a depth of feeling that words alone could not express. "Thank you, brother," he replied, his voice steady yet tinged with emotion. "It is an honor to stand before you once more."

There was a moment of silence between them, a shared understanding that transcended words. In that fleeting instant, the bond between the two brothers seemed to grow stronger, forged anew in the fires of adversity and tempered by the passage of time.

Chapter Text

"Lord Corlys," Jaehaerys greeted with a warm smile as he approached. "How fares your beloved wife, my cousin Rhaenys, and your children Laena and Laenor? I trust they are in good health and spirits?”

"I'm grateful for your inquiry, Prince Jaehaerys," Lord Corlys replied with a respectful nod. "Rhaenys and the children are in good health and high spirits, thank you. They send their regards and look forward to seeing you.”

"Is it true that Laena has managed to claim the mighty dragon Vhagar for herself?" Jaehaerys inquired, his interest piqued.

"Yes, indeed," Lord Corlys replied with a proud smile. "Laena has shown remarkable skill and courage in bonding with Vhagar. She has formed a strong connection with the dragon, and they make a formidable pair.”

“I am pleased at hearing this news,” stated Jaehaerys, “I remember when Vhagar was my father, Prince Baelon's mount. He would often take me on a ride atop Vhagar, with Gaelithox following behind Vhagar of course.”

Lord Corlys is surprised at the prospect of Gaelithox, formerly the Cannibal, following the Prince around like a puppy.

"Yes, Gaelithox has been a loyal companion since my youth," Jaehaerys explained with a fond smile. "He's not like other dragons. Despite his fearsome reputation, he has always been protective of me, much like a guardian. It's quite remarkable how our bond has grown over the years.”

Lord Corlys nodded, impressed by Jaehaerys's connection with Gaelithox. "Truly remarkable indeed, Prince Jaehaerys," he replied, admiration evident in his tone. "It speaks volumes of your character and the bond you share with your dragon.”

Jaehaerys turned to see Otto Hightower, the Hand to the King, and took a moment to meet his gaze before offering a cordial greeting.

"Lord Hightower," Jaehaerys greeted with a nod, acknowledging the Hand of the King.

Otto Hightower returned the nod, his expression guarded as he acknowledged Jaehaerys's greeting.

"Lord Beesbury, Lord Strong, it's a pleasure to see you both," Jaehaerys greeted warmly, extending his hand to each of them in turn.

Lord Beesbury and Lord Strong return the greeting with polite nods, expressing their pleasure at seeing Jaehaerys back in King's Landing.

Jaehaerys approached Ser Ryam Redwyne, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, with a warm smile. "Ser Ryam," he greeted respectfully, "it's good to see you again. You taught me much about swordsmanship, and I've always treasured those lessons.”

Ser Ryam returned Jaehaerys's smile with a nod of acknowledgement. "It's good to see you too, Prince Jaehaerys," he replied warmly. "I've heard of the reputation you've earned in Essos with your sword. Your skill with a sword has always been commendable, but it's your honor and integrity that truly set you apart.”

Jaehaerys inclined his head graciously, his expression grateful for Ser Ryam's kind words. "Thank you, Ser Ryam," he said sincerely. "Your guidance and wisdom have always been invaluable to me, and I am grateful for the lessons you imparted.”

Jaehaerys carefully unsheathed Dragon's Wrath, the Valyrian Steel Sword glinting in the sunlight. He extended it toward Ser Ryam with a respectful nod, inviting the seasoned knight to inspect it. 

Ser Ryam's eyes widened in awe as he beheld the gleaming blade of Dragon's Wrath. He reached out, his fingers tracing the intricate patterns etched into the Valyrian steel. "A magnificent sword," he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. "Truly a weapon fit for a Targaryen."

Intrigued, Viserys leaned forward, his eyes fixed on Dragon's Wrath with a mix of curiosity and admiration. "Jaehaerys," he began, his voice laced with intrigue, "where did you acquire such a magnificent blade?"

Jaehaerys met his brother's gaze, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I had it forged by the skilled blacksmiths of Qohor," he replied, his tone filled with pride. "They are renowned for their expertise in reforging Valyrian steel."

Viserys nodded thoughtfully, impressed by his brother's choice. "A wise decision," he acknowledged, his expression turning contemplative. "May it serve you well in the days to come, Jaehaerys."

Otto's inquiry cut through the air, his tone laced with skepticism as he directed his question at Jaehaerys. "And where, may I ask, did you acquire such a significant amount of Valyrian steel ore to facilitate the reforging of this sword?"

Jaehaerys's response was measured yet firm, his gaze steady as he addressed Otto's inquiry. "Indeed, many of the slavers in Essos possess Valyrian steel trinkets," he began, his voice carrying a hint of resolve. "Given their origins—forged on the backs of the suffering of slaves—I saw no moral quandary in reclaiming these artifacts from their oppressors."

A somber acknowledgment passed between them as Jaehaerys continued. "These trinkets were symbols of tyranny and exploitation, and I deemed it fitting to repurpose them for a nobler cause. By melting them down and reforging them into Dragon's Wrath, we've not only reclaimed their essence but also imbued it with a new purpose—one that honors the legacy of House Targaryen and stands against the injustice of slavery."

Otto's expression softened slightly, a flicker of understanding crossing his features. "A noble endeavor," he conceded, though the weight of the decision was evident in his voice. "Such actions require courage and conviction. I trust you wield this sword with the honor it deserves, Prince Jaehaerys.”

Viserys nodded in agreement as he heard the name of the sword. "Dragon's Wrath," he repeated, a sense of approval evident in his voice. "A fitting name for a weapon of such significance. May it serve you well, Jaehaerys, in the defense of our family and realm."

The name seemed to resonate with the assembled company, invoking a sense of reverence for the sword's purpose and the legacy it embodied. With a solemn nod, Viserys gestured toward Jaehaerys, acknowledging both the significance of the blade and the responsibility that came with it.

Viserys extended the invitation to Rhaenyra and Jaehaerys to join him in the carriage, eager to return to the Red Keep.

As they prepared to board the carriage, Jaehaerys stated, "Rhaenyra, I am truly sorry for not acknowledging your presence earlier. It seems I was so caught up in the reunion with my brother and the others that I neglected to notice the Realms Delight standing before me."

Rhaenyra laughed softly, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. "No need for apologies, Uncle Jaehaerys. Your arrival has been quite the spectacle, after all."

Viserys, smiling at the exchange between his daughter and brother, gestured toward the carriage. "Shall we?" he said, prompting them to enter.

As they boarded the carriage, Jaehaerys held out a hand to assist Rhaenyra, who graciously accepted it, their fingers brushing in a fleeting yet electric touch.

Jaehaerys, with a playful glint in his eyes, teased Rhaenyra about how much she had grown since they last met, recalling the little girl of four he had last seen. Rhaenyra, equally playful, retorted with a jest about Jaehaerys's youthful appearance despite his years in exile.

As they settled into the carriage, Rhaenyra couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and curiosity about her uncle Jaehaerys, whom she barely remembered from her childhood. Sensing her anticipation, Jaehaerys turned to her with a warm smile. 

"You seem eager to learn more about your old uncle," he remarked teasingly, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Rhaenyra chuckled, feeling a bit sheepish. "Well, I must admit, you've always been somewhat of a mystery to me," she admitted, returning his smile. "But I'm looking forward to getting to know you better now."

Jaehaerys's smile softened, and he reached out to pat her hand reassuringly. "And I, you, dear niece," he replied warmly. "We have much to catch up on.”

As the carriage rumbled along, Viserys leaned forward, his expression serious as he began to relay the recent events to Jaehaerys. 

"I've made a decision, brother," he started, his voice steady but tinged with regret. "Daemon has been banished to the Vale, and I've named you as my heir."

Jaehaerys's brows furrowed in concern as he listened intently, absorbing the weight of his brother's words. "Banished?" he echoed, his tone a mixture of surprise and curiosity. "What transpired to warrant such a drastic measure?"

Viserys sighed heavily, his gaze flickering to Rhaenyra before returning to Jaehaerys. "It seems Daemon's actions have caused quite a stir," he explained, his voice tinged with frustration. "He spoke ill of our family and made disrespectful toasts, casting doubt on his loyalty."

Jaehaerys's expression darkened with concern as he absorbed the gravity of the situation. "I see," he murmured, his mind already working to process the implications of his brother's actions.

Viserys continued, recounting the incident that had triggered Daemon's banishment and his decision to name Jaehaerys as his heir. As the details unfolded, Jaehaerys listened with a mixture of sadness and resolve, his thoughts already turning to the responsibilities that lay ahead.

Viserys took a deep breath, steeling himself for the delicate conversation ahead. "Jaehaerys, there's another matter I must discuss with you," he began, his voice measured but tinged with a hint of uncertainty.

Jaehaerys turned his attention to his brother, a curious expression crossing his features. "Yes, Viserys?" he prompted, sensing the weight of the impending discussion.

"It's about Rhaenyra," Viserys continued, his gaze flickering to his daughter briefly before returning to Jaehaerys. "I've considered the future of our dynasty, and I believe it's time to secure it with a union between you and Rhaenyra."

Jaehaerys's brows furrowed in surprise, his mind racing to comprehend the implications of Viserys's words. "Me and Rhaenyra?" he echoed, his tone a mixture of flattery and uncertainty. "Are you certain, Viserys? She's a true Valyrian beauty, but..."

Viserys nodded solemnly, his gaze unwavering. "I am," he affirmed, his voice filled with conviction. "You and Rhaenyra together would ensure the strength and continuity of our line. And I believe you both possess the qualities necessary to lead our family and our realm into the future.”

Jaehaerys nodded respectfully at Viserys's request but proposed a postponement of the wedding until Rhaenyra reached the age of 18. When Viserys inquired about the reason for the delay, Jaehaerys hesitated briefly before offering his explanation.

"Your Grace, while I am honored by your trust and confidence in me, I must express my concern for Rhaenyra's well-being," Jaehaerys began, his tone earnest. "As you know, our Lady mother faced complications during her pregnancy with me, and I fear that any child I father may inherit my magical abilities."

He paused, a shadow crossing his features as he continued. "Rhaenyra is still young, and her body may not yet be prepared to handle the stresses of a magical pregnancy. I would not risk her health or the health of any potential child by rushing into a union before she is ready."

Viserys listened carefully to Jaehaerys's words, his expression thoughtful. After a moment of contemplation, he nodded in agreement. "You make a valid point, Jaehaerys," he conceded. "Rhaenyra's well-being is of utmost importance. We will postpone the wedding until she comes of age."

Jaehaerys turned to Rhaenyra, his gaze gentle yet probing, as he sought her opinion on the matter at hand. "Rhaenyra," he began, his voice soft with concern, "what are your thoughts on the prospect of marrying me?"

He waited patiently for her response, giving her the opportunity to express her feelings openly. However, he couldn't help but address the concern he had for her health. "I must admit, my dear, I am concerned about your well-being. Marrying me would entail certain risks, especially considering the potential complications of a magical pregnancy."

His expression softened with sincerity as he continued. "Your health and happiness mean everything to me, Rhaenyra. I want to ensure that any decision we make is in your best interest.”

Rhaenyra took a moment to gather her thoughts before responding, her expression thoughtful yet resolute. "Uncle Jaehaerys," she began, her voice steady, "I appreciate your concern for my well-being. The idea of marrying you is... unexpected, but not unwelcome."

She met his gaze with sincerity, her eyes reflecting a mixture of emotions. "I understand the risks involved, and I share your concern about the potential complications. However, I trust in your wisdom and judgment, as well as my father's, in making the right decision for both of us."

A hint of determination colored her tone as she spoke. "If it is decided that our union is for the greater good of our family and the realm, then I am willing to stand by your side, regardless of the challenges we may face."

She offered him a reassuring smile, her conviction shining through. "Together, we will navigate whatever trials come our way, just as our ancestors have done before us.”

"So, I appreciate your concern for my well-being, Uncle Jaehaerys," she says softly, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension, "And I trust your judgment. I agree that waiting until I am older is the wisest course of action. Besides, a three-year courtship sounds quite delightful."

Jaehaerys nods in agreement, a sense of relief washing over him. "Thank you, Rhaenyra," he replies sincerely. "Your health and happiness are of utmost importance to me. I look forward to getting to know you better over the coming years and building a strong foundation for our future together."

Viserys, listening to their exchange, smiles warmly. "I'm pleased to hear that you both agree," he says, his voice tinged with pride. "This decision will ensure that we proceed thoughtfully and with care. Together, we will navigate the challenges ahead and uphold the honor and legacy of House Targaryen."

As the carriage rolls on toward the Red Keep, the three of them share a sense of unity and purpose, ready to face whatever the future may hold.

As the carriage reaches the Red Keep, the towering structure looms majestically before them, its ancient walls steeped in history and power. Servants and guards stand ready to assist as Viserys, Jaehaerys, and Rhaenyra step out, their presence commanding respect and attention.

Viserys leads the way, his demeanor regal yet welcoming, as they make their way through the grand halls of the Keep. Courtiers and nobles nod respectfully as they pass, their whispers hushed in the presence of the royal family.

Jaehaerys walks with a quiet confidence, his gaze sweeping over the familiar surroundings with a sense of belonging. Rhaenyra walks beside him, her excitement tempered by a sense of duty and responsibility.

As they enter the throne room, the grandeur of the chamber takes their breath away. The Iron Throne gleams in the sunlight streaming through the stained glass windows, a symbol of power and authority.

Viserys takes his seat upon the throne, his presence filling the room with a sense of authority. Jaehaerys and Rhaenyra stand beside him.

Viserys’ voice rings out with authority as he addresses the assembled courtiers and nobles gathered in the throne room.

"My lords and ladies, esteemed members of the Small Council, I bring you news of great importance," Viserys announces, his tone commanding attention.

"I am pleased to announce the return of my youngest brother, Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen, to the realm," he continues, a proud smile gracing his features. "He has proven himself a worthy leader and a true son of House Targaryen."

The courtiers murmur with interest, their eyes turning to Jaehaerys as he stands beside Viserys, a figure of strength and resolve.

"In light of his return and his exemplary service in Essos, I have named Jaehaerys as my heir," Viserys declares, his words met with a mixture of surprise and approval from the assembled crowd.

"But that is not all," Viserys continues, his gaze turning to Rhaenyra, who stands beside Jaehaerys with poise and grace. "I am pleased to announce the betrothal of my daughter, Princess Rhaenyra, to Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen."

A ripple of excitement and anticipation sweeps through the throne room, the courtiers whispering amongst themselves as they digest the news.

"Together, Jaehaerys and Rhaenyra will lead our house into a new era of prosperity and strength," Viserys concludes, his voice filled with pride and confidence.

The courtiers offer their congratulations, their voices rising in a chorus of approval as the future of House Targaryen is secured.

Alicent embraces Rhaenyra warmly, a genuine smile gracing her features as she offers her congratulations.

"Congratulations, Rhaenyra. I'm truly happy for you," Alicent says, her voice filled with sincerity.

Rhaenyra returns the hug, grateful for Alicent's support. "Thank you, Alicent. It means a lot to me," she replies, her voice tinged with emotion.

As Rhaenyra introduces Jaehaerys and Alicent to each other, Jaehaerys meets Alicent's gaze with a warm smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Alicent," he says, his voice sincere.

Alicent returns Jaehaerys's smile, her eyes shining with warmth. "The pleasure is mine, Prince Jaehaerys. Congratulations to both of you," she replies, her tone genuine.

Lord Corlys approaches Jaehaerys with a congratulatory smile, extending his hand in friendship. "Congratulations, Prince Jaehaerys. It will be an honor to serve you in the future," he says warmly.

Jaehaerys accepts the handshake with a grateful nod. "Thank you, Lord Corlys." he replies with genuine appreciation.

As the pleasantries conclude, Jaehaerys leans in slightly, his expression becoming more serious. "I was hoping we could discuss a matter of some importance over dinner tonight, if you're available," he continues, his tone earnest.

Lord Corlys's curiosity piqued, he nods in agreement. "Of course, Prince Jaehaerys. I would be honored to join you for dinner. What is it that you wish to discuss?" he inquires, his interest evident in his expression.

Jaehaerys smiles confidently. "I believe I have a solution to the Stepstones issue that has been troubling you. I'd like to share my thoughts with you over dinner," he explains, his eyes gleaming with determination.

Lord Corlys's eyebrows raise in surprise, but a hopeful smile forms on his lips. "That sounds promising, Prince Jaehaerys. I look forward to our discussion," he replies, eager to hear Jaehaerys's proposal.

As Lord Corlys walks away, his mind abuzz with anticipation, he can't help but wonder what solution Prince Jaehaerys might offer. He knows the Stepstones issue has been a thorn in the side of the realm for far too long, and any fresh perspective would be welcome.

The promise of a solution from someone as reputable as Jaehaerys Targaryen fills Lord Corlys with hope. He can't shake the feeling that perhaps, finally, there might be a path forward that will bring peace and stability to the volatile region.

With renewed optimism, Lord Corlys makes his way through the bustling halls of the Red Keep, eager to attend the dinner later in the evening and hear what Jaehaerys has to propose.

Chapter Text

Over lunch in the King's Chambers, Rhaenyra, her curiosity piqued, leans forward to ask Jaehaerys about his exploits in Essos.

"Uncle Jaehaerys," Rhaenyra began, her eyes alight with curiosity, "I've heard tales of your exploits in Essos. I'm eager to hear firsthand about the challenges you faced and the adventures you embarked upon while you were away from Westeros.”

Jaehaerys chuckled softly, a playful glint in his eyes. "Well then, Rhaenyra," he said, emphasizing her name with a teasing smile, "now that we're betrothed, you can just call me 'Jaehaerys' or even 'Jae' if you prefer. No need for formality between us.”

Rhaenyra blushed profusely at this, “Alright, 'll call you Jae,” she states, “but only if you call me Nyra.”

Jaehaerys grinned at her blush, finding her endearing. "Deal, Nyra," he replied warmly, delighted by their newfound familiarity.

"In the beginning, my time in Essos was difficult," Jaehaerys began, his tone serious. "I faced numerous challenges, encountered unfamiliar customs, and had to navigate through dangers lurking in every corner.”

"In Westeros, magic is often treated as the stuff of legend, something relegated to the Age of Heroes," Jaehaerys explained, his voice grave with the weight of his experiences. "But in Essos, magic is very much alive. The Warlocks of Qarth, in particular, sought to exploit my abilities for their own gain, aiming to enslave me and harness my magical power for their nefarious schemes.”

Rhaenyra's eyes widened in astonishment at Jaehaerys's revelation. The idea of magic being wielded so openly and dangerously in Essos was both intriguing and unsettling to her. She couldn't help but feel a surge of protective concern for Jaehaerys as he recounted his harrowing experiences.

Jaehaerys continued, his tone growing more determined. "However, they forgot one crucial detail," he stated, his gaze intense.

Rhaenyra leaned in, her curiosity piqued. "Which detail did they forget?" she inquired, her eyes fixed on Jaehaerys.

"Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor!” Jaehaerys replied.

Rhaenyra repeated the phrase and translated it into the Common Language of Westeros: "A dragon is not a slave!”

Jaehaerys simply smiled before continuing, “My magic comes from within myself, Nyra. However, other practitioners such as the Warlocks of Qarth and the Shadowbinders of Asshai sacrifice innocents, mostly slaves, to acquire and replenish their power.” His voice was filled with distaste and revulsion as he told her this.

“I once came across a young girl, just a babe really, being sold in the Slave Markets of Asshai.” He recounted. “She would have either been sacrificed or used as a sex slave. I realized then that such atrocities could not continue, and I felt compelled to intervene.”

"Jaehaerys, my brother," Viserys said, his voice filled with pride and admiration, "your courage and compassion are truly remarkable. You have faced challenges that few could even imagine, and yet you have remained steadfast in your convictions. I commend you for your bravery and your unwavering commitment to doing what is right.”

"Thank you, Viserys," Jaehaerys replied, his expression reflecting genuine gratitude. "Your support means a great deal to me. I only hope that my actions have been worthy of the trust you've placed in me.”

“What happened to the girl?” Rhaenyra interrupted, her curiosity getting the better of her

"Her name is Melony," Jaehaerys answered, a smile touching his lips as he recalled the memory. "I managed to save her from that wretched fate. She's safe now, and will be arriving in Kingslanding in the next week or so, along with a few of my most trusted men.”

"That's wonderful news," Rhaenyra replied, her eyes reflecting her relief. "I'm glad you were able to rescue her. It must have been quite the ordeal.”

Jaehaerys nodded. "Not really," he replied. "With Gaelithox circling above, nobody dared to intervene while I beheaded the slaver who was selling Melony.”

Rhaenyra's eyes widened in shock, the gravity of Jaehaerys's actions sinking in. She replies with a mix of awe and admiration, "You truly are a hero, Jae.”

Jaehaerys responds with a humble smile, saying, "I only did what I felt was right, Nyra. Anyone would have done the same in my place.”

Viserys interjects, his voice carrying a note of pride and admiration. "Not everyone possesses the courage and compassion that you demonstrated, Jaehaerys. Your actions speak volumes about your character.”

"Melony was the same age as Rhaenyra when I left Westeros," Jaehaerys explains, his voice carrying a haunted tone. "I couldn't help but see a young Rhaenyra in her. I asked myself, 'What would I have done if Rhaenyra was in her place?' And then, I did exactly what I would have done for Rhaenyra.”

Viserys's expression softens with understanding, while Rhaenyra's eyes widen in realization, her heart swelling with gratitude and admiration for her betrothed.

Jaehaerys, eager to shift the mood, turns to Rhaenyra.

"Tell me, Nyra," he said, with a warm smile, "what adventures have you had in Westeros while I was away? I'm curious to hear about your experiences.”

“My adventures pale in comparison to the Dragon Mage, the legendary Breaker of Chains!” Rhaenyra replies cheekily.

"Ah, but even the Dragon Mage had to start somewhere," Jaehaerys retorts with a playful wink. "Who knows, maybe one day you'll have tales that rival mine, Nyra.”

Rhaenyra chuckles at Jaehaerys's playful banter, nodding in agreement. "Perhaps," she concedes with a grin, "but until then, I'll gladly enjoy the stories you have to share.”

The meal continues, filled with lively conversation and laughter as the Targaryens enjoy each other's company and share stories of their adventures and experiences. Time passes in a blur as they savor the delicious food and cherish the warmth of family bonds.

—

Corlys Velaryon strides purposefully towards Prince Jaehaerys' chambers, his thoughts consumed by the conflict for control of the Stepstones, an archipelago in the Narrow Sea between the Broken Arm of Dorne and the Disputed Lands of Essos. He knows that finding a resolution to this longstanding dispute is crucial for maintaining stability in the region.

The Stepstones, though seemingly insignificant in themselves, hold strategic importance due to their control over vital sea lanes passing in and out of the Narrow Sea to the east coast of Westeros and the northern Free Cities. Historically infested by pirates, they were eventually cleared out by the Triarchy, a triple-alliance between the Free Cities of Myr, Lys, and Tyrosh. However, the Triarchy's control led to conflicts with Westerosi shipping passing through the Stepstones, sparking a private war with House Velaryon, known for possessing the largest fleet in the Seven Kingdoms.

The situation had escalated beyond Corlys's expectations: the Triarchy was launching unprovoked attacks on Westerosi ships in the region, sinking four vessels, including one from the Velaryon fleet. Corlys advocated for immediate war, pressuring Viserys to take action. However, the king believed the realm was ill-prepared for a conflict with the Free Cities. Instead, he favored caution, intending to seek common cause with the Triarchy's enemies in Pentos and Volantis.

Corlys felt that the time for caution had long passed. He had planned to return to Driftmark to prepare for an invasion of the Stepstones without the king's leave, possibly even inviting Prince Daemon Targaryen to join him. However, before he could act on his plans, Prince Jaehaerys invited him to dinner to discuss the brewing situation in the Stepstones.

Corlys waited patiently outside the Prince's Chambers, the weight of the impending discussion heavy on his mind. He stood tall and composed, his demeanor reflecting the gravity of the situation. When his presence was finally announced by an attendant and he was granted permission to enter, Corlys entered the chambers with a determined stride, ready to address the pressing matters at hand.

Jaehaerys greeted Corlys with a warm smile as he entered the chambers. Gesturing towards the dinner table, he welcomed Corlys to join him, indicating that they could begin their discussion over the meal.

Corlys graciously accepted the invitation, nodding his thanks to Jaehaerys as he took his seat at the table.

"Please, have a seat, Corlys," Jaehaerys said, gesturing toward the dinner table. "Let me pour you a cup of my own invention, Single Malt Whiskey.”

As Corlys took a sip of the whiskey, he savored its rich flavor, feeling a warmth spread through him. He nodded approvingly, impressed by the taste.

"Prince Jaehaerys, this is truly remarkable," Corlys remarked, impressed by the flavor of the whiskey. "Would it be possible for me to acquire a barrel or two for myself?”

"Of course, Lord Corlys," Jaehaerys replied with a smile. "I'll make sure you have a supply for yourself. Now, let's discuss the matter at hand. Tell me more about the situation in the Stepstones.”

Corlys nodded, taking another sip of the whiskey before delving into the details of the escalating conflict in the Stepstones. He outlined the recent attacks on Westerosi ships by the Triarchy, emphasizing the urgency of the situation and the need for decisive action. As he spoke, Jaehaerys listened attentively, nodding occasionally to show his understanding of the gravity of the situation.

Jaehaerys contemplates upon the situation, then states, “As far as I know, of the four ships that have been attacked, one belongs to House Velaryon, another to House Manderly, another to House Redwyne, and the last to House Mallister.”

“However,” he continues, “I find it curious that none of House Hightower's ships have been attacked.”

Jaehaerys paused, his brow furrowed in thought as he considered the implications of the targeted attacks.

"Could it be that House Hightower has some involvement in these attacks, or perhaps they have made some arrangement with the Triarchy to spare their ships?” He mused.

Corlys shook his head "Oldtown's location places it on a different trading route compared to the other major ports. Nevertheless, it's worth noting that House Hightower profits from this. It might be the reason why Otto Hightower might be advising the king against a war in the Stepstones.”

Jaehaerys furrowed his brow, considering Corlys' words. "You may be onto something, Lord Corlys. It's certainly possible that House Hightower has vested interests in maintaining the status quo in the Stepstones. If they're profiting from the current situation, it wouldn't be surprising if they're advising caution to avoid disrupting their trade.”

Jaehaerys nodded thoughtfully. "The prudent move would be for you to form a coalition with Houses Mallister, Redwyne, and Manderly. Together, you can present a united front and petition the Crown to investigate the situation in the Stepstones thoroughly. Strength in numbers, as they say.”

“Moreover,” he continued, “by doing this you can negate Ser Otto’s claim of this being your personal vendetta for the Triarchy’s attacks against the Velaryon fleet.”

Corlys's eyes widened in realization, surprised that he hadn't thought of forming a coalition earlier. "You're absolutely right, Prince Jaehaerys," he exclaimed. "A united front will not only strengthen our cause but also dispel any accusations of personal vendetta. Thank you for your insight. I will immediately reach out to Houses Mallister, Redwyne, and Manderly to discuss this strategy.”

Jaehaerys leaned forward, his expression serious. "And once the conflict begins, we'll need a plan to neutralize the Free Cities of Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh," he added. "Their combined might poses a significant threat, and we must be prepared to counter it effectively.”

Corlys nodded in agreement, his mind already racing with strategies and contingencies. "Indeed, we cannot underestimate the power and resources of the Free Cities," he replied. "I will start coordinating with the other Houses immediately to form the coalition and prepare for the petition to the Crown. As for neutralizing the Free Cities, we'll need to devise a multifaceted approach that considers both military and diplomatic measures." He paused, considering the magnitude of the task ahead. "But with your guidance, Prince Jaehaerys, I am confident we can navigate these challenges.”

Jaehaerys leaned forward, his eyes glinting with determination. "There may be a simpler solution for dealing with the Free Cities," he proposed, his voice carrying conviction. "We could use the might of Gaelithox and his Dragon's Legion to conquer one of the Free Cities, preferably Lys. By demonstrating our strength and resolve, we could compel the other cities to negotiate on more favorable terms. It's a bold move, but it could yield significant advantages in the long run.”

Corlys was taken aback, his expression reflecting his surprise. "Prince Jaehaerys, what is your plan for Lys once it is conquered?”

Corlys had not expected Jaehaerys to mention conquering Lys, given its notorious reputation for its brothels.

Jaehaerys responded with a calm demeanor, "Lord Corlys, my plan for Lys involves more than just its brothels. Once conquered, we will need to establish stable governance, rebuild infrastructure, and ensure the well-being of its people. As for the brothels, they will need to be regulated and managed in a way that aligns with our values and principles.”

Jaehaerys's words hung in the air, his sincerity evident in every syllable. "Contrary to popular belief, while I despise slavery, I am not an idealist. I've realized early on that if I am to remove slavery as a way of life in Essos, I must provide viable alternatives for livelihood. With this in mind, I have started several businesses, such as the brewery that made the fine Whiskey you are drinking. Businesses that are run by freed slaves and employ freed slaves. The profits from these ventures go into financing the Dragon’s Legion, my army made up of freed slaves. I have no qualms about owning brothels, as long as the men and women there are there of their own free will. Conquering a city like Lys will offer great opportunities for trade, commerce, and industry, providing the people with new avenues to earn gold and support themselves.”

Corlys listened intently, his initial shock gradually giving way to contemplation. He found himself reassessing his preconceived notions about Jaehaerys and his intentions. After a moment of reflection, Corlys nodded thoughtfully, acknowledging the practicality and foresight behind Jaehaerys's approach.

Jaehaerys leaned forward, his gaze steady as he spoke with conviction. "I intend to conquer Lys, as well as the Stepstones, in the name of my betrothed, Rhaenyra," he declared, his voice resolute. "And on the day of our wedding, I will offer these territories to the crown, as a gift to the realm.”

Corlys couldn't help but be impressed by Jaehaerys's vision and determination. He found himself thinking that Jaehaerys would have made a fine Goodson, and Laena would have been happy with such a capable and forward-thinking partner. However, he acknowledged the reality of the situation—that Rhaenyra was betrothed to another—and pushed aside his personal thoughts to focus on the matter at hand.

As he thought this, Jaehaerys outlined his strategy, emphasizing coordination between his Dragon's Legion advancing from the south and Lord Corlys's forces from the north, island by island, until they reached Bloodstone, the base of the Triarchy. This joint effort would ensure a strategic consolidation of their forces in a key location, ready to confront the Triarchy.

Once their forces were consolidated at Bloodstone, they would be in a formidable position to confront the Triarchy. Jaehaerys stressed the importance of maintaining communication and coordination between their armies to ensure a successful campaign. He expressed confidence in their ability to overcome the Triarchy and bring peace to the Stepstones.

"We should consider bringing Prince Daemon into the fold," Corlys suggested, his tone earnest. "His military expertise and strategic insight would be invaluable in our campaign against the Triarchy.”

"Agreed," Jaehaerys nodded. "I'll arrange a meeting with him at the earliest opportunity to discuss our plans and seek his support in this endeavor.”

"Lord Corlys," Jaehaerys began, his voice tinged with uncertainty, "I know it's a lot to ask, but with Rhaenys and Laena on our side, we would have a significant advantage. Their dragons, Meleys and Vhagar are formidable, and their presence would bolster our forces immensely.”

After much convincing by Jaehaerys, Corlys eventually agrees, albeit with some hesitation. He understands the strategic advantage that Meleys and Vhagar would provide and reluctantly accepts their inclusion in the war armada.

"Lord Corlys, how soon can you get in touch with the other three Houses—Manderly, Redwyne, and Mallister—to form a coalition?”

Corlys nods thoughtfully. "I can send out ravens to them immediately. With luck, we can convene within the fortnight to discuss our strategy and present a unified front to the Crown.”

As the conversation drew to a close, Corlys and Jaehaerys finalized their plans, each feeling a sense of purpose and determination. With the wheels set in motion for their coalition, they parted ways, ready to embark on the journey ahead. The stage was set for a new chapter in the struggle for control of the Stepstones.

Chapter Text

Rhaenyra's heart raced as she approached Jaehaerys's chambers, her palms clammy with nervousness. She had been contemplating this moment the whole of last night, rehearsing her words in her mind, but now that the moment was upon her, she found herself trembling with uncertainty.

She hesitated for a moment outside the door, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves. Then, steeling herself, she raised her hand and knocked softly.

"Come in," Jaehaerys's voice called from inside.

With a shaky exhale, Rhaenyra pushed open the door and stepped into the room. Jaehaerys looked up from his desk, a warm smile lighting up his face as he saw her.

"Nyra," he greeted, rising from his seat. "What brings you here?"

Rhaenyra swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. "I...I was wondering if you would accompany me to the dragonpit," she stammered, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I intend to go on a ride on the back of Syrax, and...and I was hoping you might join me on Gaelithox."

She braced herself for his response, her heart pounding in her chest.

Jaehaerys's expression softened with regret as he listened to Rhaenyra's request. He took a moment to consider her words, his brow furrowing thoughtfully.

"I would love nothing more than to accompany you to the dragonpit, Nyra," he began, his tone sincere. "But I'm afraid I cannot join you on a ride today."

Rhaenyra's heart sank at his words, disappointment flickering in her eyes. She had hoped he would agree to join her, but she understood that he had his own responsibilities and commitments.

"I understand," she murmured, forcing a smile despite her disappointment. "Perhaps another time."

Jaehaerys nodded, his expression apologetic. "I promise, we'll go on a ride together soon. But for now, I must fly to the Vale to meet with Daemon. There are matters that require my attention."

Rhaenyra's eyes brightened at the mention of meeting Daemon, her interest piqued. She leaned forward slightly, a hopeful look in her eyes.

"Could I join you?" she asked eagerly, a hint of excitement in her voice. "I've always wanted to visit the Vale, and it would be nice to meet Uncle Daemon."

Jaehaerys smiled warmly at Rhaenyra's eagerness but shook his head gently.

"I appreciate the offer, Nyra," he began, his tone gentle yet firm. "But this is a reunion ten years in the making, and I feel it's something I must do alone. However, I promise you'll have plenty of opportunities to join me in the future. I'll be meeting with Daemon as often as I can, and I'd be delighted to have you accompany me then."

Rhaenyra's expression softened at his words, understanding the importance of the reunion between the brothers.

"Of course, Jae," she replied with a warm smile. "I understand. Just promise to tell me all about your meeting when you return."

Jaehaerys nodded, returning her smile with a reassuring one of his own.

"I promise," he said sincerely. "I'll tell you everything."

Jaehaerys, noticing Rhaenyra's disappointment at not being able to join him on his journey to the Vale, decides to make the most of their time together before he leaves. With a charming smile, he turns to her and extends an invitation.

"Since I can't accompany you for a ride today, would you do me the honor of allowing me to enjoy your company till we reach the dragonpit?" he asks, his tone warm and inviting.

Rhaenyra's face lights up at the offer, her earlier disappointment replaced with excitement at the prospect of spending more time with Jaehaerys.

"I would love that," she replies eagerly, a bright smile gracing her lips.

With that settled, Jaehaerys and Rhaenyra set off together, their conversation flowing effortlessly as they enjoy each other's company on their way to the dragonpit.

—

Daemon Targaryen stood victorious, his sword Dark Sister gleaming in the sunlight as he bested his opponent in combat. With a swift and decisive strike, he disarmed the man, bringing him to his knees.

"Do you yield?" Daemon asked, his voice commanding yet filled with a hint of amusement.

Waymar, his defeated opponent, with heavy breath and broken spirit, looked up at Daemon with a mix of admiration and resignation.

"I yield, my prince," he conceded, his tone begrudging yet respectful.

With a nod of acknowledgment, Daemon extended a hand to help the man to his feet, displaying both his prowess in combat and his chivalrous demeanor on the battlefield.

"You're more fierce than ever, my prince," Waymar remarked, his voice tinged with admiration as he observed Daemon's prowess in the training yard.

Daemon's expression softened slightly at the compliment, though the frustration of being stuck at Runestone still gnawed at him. The nights spent in the keep, which he disparagingly referred to as a "shit hole," offered little solace, especially in the company of his Lady Wife Rhea Royce, whom he humorously dubbed his "Bronze Bitch."

His irritation only grew in the absence of meaningful activity, exacerbated by the delays in the construction of his own fort. Despite the distractions of brothels and the allure of companionship with Mysaria, Daemon found himself increasingly restless, yearning for action and adventure beyond the confines of Runestone.

After his abrupt departure from the capital, Daemon briefly entertained the idea of seeking refuge at Dragonstone. Yet, a deeper sense of loyalty to his younger brother Jaehaerys prevented him from pursuing that path. Knowing that Viserys had likely named Jaehaerys as his heir after disinheriting him, Daemon couldn't bring himself to potentially disrupt Jaehaerys's position by occupying Dragonstone, the traditional seat of the heir to the Iron Throne. He couldn't bear the thought of failing Jaehaerys again, especially after the disappointment he had already caused him.

Daemon's mind drifted back to a promise made long ago, to his grandmother, the Good Queen Alyssane. It was a solemn vow exchanged when he first laid eyes on the infant Jaehaerys. In that moment, she had entrusted him with a sacred duty: to protect and watch over Jaehaerys, come what may. The memory of her unwavering gaze and the weight of that promise weighed heavily on his heart, reinforcing his resolve to safeguard his younger brothers interests at all costs.

Daemon's thoughts were tinged with regret as he reflected on the events eleven years prior. He vividly recalled the devastating aftermath of his parents' deaths and Jaehaerys's subsequent exile. In that moment of turmoil and despair, he had yearned to join Jaehaerys in his exile, to stand by his side as they faced the uncertain future together. But Jaehaerys, ever the voice of reason, had insisted otherwise. He had urged Daemon to remain by Viserys's side, recognizing that with their father dead, Viserys would soon be the heir to the Iron Throne. Jaehaerys understood the weight of his newfound responsibility and the dangers that lurked in the shadows, threatening to exploit Viserys's benevolent nature for their own gain. Reluctantly, Daemon had acquiesced to Jaehaerys's wishes, bound by duty and loyalty to protect his brother and the realm they both held dear.

Daemon's heart quickened with excitement as he recognized the familiar roar echoing through the air. A wry smile played on his lips as he instinctively turned his gaze skyward, anticipating the majestic sight about to unfold. Through the parting clouds emerged the magnificent form of Gaelithox, Jaehaerys's mighty dragon, descending with a grace that seemed to defy the laws of nature. The dragon's powerful wings beat rhythmically against the air as it approached, casting a shadow over the landscape below. For Daemon, the sight of the dragon was both awe-inspiring and reassuring—a symbol of Jaehaerys's presence and the bond they shared. As Gaelithox descended closer, Daemon felt a surge of anticipation, eager to reunite with his brother and embark on whatever adventures lay ahead.

—

As Jaehaerys gracefully dismounted Gaelithox, his eyes scanned the surroundings, taking in the sights of Runestone. Before he could fully comprehend his surroundings, the thundering hooves of a horse caught his attention. Turning toward the sound, his eyes widened in recognition and joy as he spotted Daemon astride his steed, riding swiftly toward him.

With a wide grin spreading across his face, Jaehaerys took a few steps forward to meet his brother. As Daemon approached, the two brothers closed the distance between them in a rush of excitement and emotion. With a hearty laugh, Jaehaerys reached out to embrace Daemon, the warmth of their reunion dispelling any lingering shadows of their past troubles. 

"It's good to see you, Daemon," Jaehaerys exclaimed, clasping Daemon's forearm in a firm grip. "How does Runestone fare?" 

Daemon returned the embrace with equal fervor, his eyes shining with a mixture of relief and happiness. "Runestone is as dreary as ever," he replied with a chuckle. "But seeing you again makes it all worthwhile."

Together, the brothers shared a moment of camaraderie, their bond stronger than ever as they stood side by side, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

As they stepped back from their embrace, Daemon's gaze softened with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "Jae," he began, his tone tentative yet earnest, "are you the heir to the Iron Throne now that I've been disinherited?"

Jaehaerys met his brother's gaze with a solemn nod, his expression reflecting the weight of his newfound responsibilities. "Yes, Daemon," he replied, his voice steady despite the gravity of the situation. "Viserys has named me his heir."

Daemon's features softened with a mixture of relief and pride as he processed the news. "I see," he murmured, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Well, I suppose congratulations are in order, then."

Jaehaerys returned the smile, grateful for his brother's support. "Thank you, Daemon," he said, his voice tinged with sincerity. "But enough about me. Tell me, how have you been faring here at Runestone?”

Daemon let out a weary sigh, his frustration evident in the furrow of his brow. "Living in the company of the Bronze Bitch," he lamented, his voice tinged with exasperation. "It's been... challenging, to say the least."

He cast a glance towards the imposing keep of Runestone, his expression darkening with a mix of annoyance and resignation. "Rhea Royce," he continued, his tone laced with bitterness, "hasn't made my stay here particularly enjoyable either."

Daemon's gaze returned to Jaehaerys, a hint of frustration lingering in his eyes. "I had hoped for some respite after being sent away from the capital," he admitted, his voice tinged with regret. "But it seems I'm destined to endure the company of the Bronze Bitch a while longer.”

Jaehaerys chuckled, a playful glint in his eyes as he responded to Daemon's lament. "Ah, dear brother," he said with a smirk, "surely your legendary charm can work wonders even on the most formidable of adversaries. Perhaps it's just a matter of finding the right approach to tame the Bronze Bitch." 

He shot Daemon a knowing look, his tone light-hearted despite the underlying seriousness of their conversation. "Or perhaps," he added with a grin, "she simply needs to spend more time in the company of a true Targaryen prince to appreciate the finer things in life.”

Daemon laughed heartily at Jaehaerys' jest, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly at the familiar banter between them. "Ah, if only it were that easy, dear brother," he replied, his grin widening. "But you may be onto something. A little bit of Targaryen charm might just do the trick."

As they walked side by side, reminiscing about their shared past and discussing the challenges ahead, Daemon couldn't help but feel a sense of relief at being in Jaehaerys' company once more. Despite the uncertainties and conflicts looming on the horizon, having his brother by his side made the burden a little lighter, and he knew that together, they could weather whatever storms came their way.

As they arrived at Runestone, Jaehaerys was introduced to Lady Rhea Royce, the wife of his brother Daemon. Observing the tension between the two, Jaehaerys couldn't help but remark, "It's quite perplexing, isn't it? Two perfectly attractive people, yet seemingly intent on repelling each other."

Daemon chuckled, shooting Jaehaerys a knowing look. "Ah, well, you see, brother, sometimes attraction is overshadowed by more... complicated matters," he replied cryptically, his gaze briefly flickering towards Lady Rhea before returning to Jaehaerys. "But let's not dwell on such matters now. I believe, judging by your presence so soon after being named heir, that we have much to discuss and plan.”

—

Seated inside the keep, Daemon leaned forward, his expression serious. "Jae, let's not beat around the bush. Tell me why you're here and what you need from me.”

Jaehaerys comes out straight to the point, “You were right when you claimed to Viserys that Otto Hightower was a cunt.” he states.

Daemon's surprise was evident in his expression. "How do you know about that conversation? It was a private exchange between Viserys and me," he said, his tone cautious.

Jaehaerys simply raises an eyebrow at Daemon, and Daemon suddenly is reminded of the fact that Jaehaerys could read the surface thoughts of the people he made eye contact with.

Daemon's expression shifted, realizing the implications of Jaehaerys' ability. He cleared his throat, composing himself. "Ah, I see. So, what did Otto do?" he asked, trying to steer the conversation away from his earlier slip.

Jaehaerys leaned back, his gaze steady on Daemon. "Otto Hightower is meddling in affairs beyond his station," he began, choosing his words carefully. "He's been exerting undue influence over Viserys, steering him away from decisive action when it comes to the Stepstones conflict.”

Jaehaerys leaned forward, his voice low and intense. "He's manipulating the king's decisions for his own gain, and I fear it's to the detriment of the realm." He paused, letting the gravity of his words sink in. "Moreover, he has been sending his daughter, the Lady Alicent, to comfort our brother. He’s hoping she’ll find her way into his bed, and from there onto the Iron Throne”

Daemon's eyes narrowed as he absorbed Jaehaerys' words. "Alicent? Viserys would never..." he began, but then faltered, the seed of doubt planted by Jaehaerys' revelation taking root in his mind. He shook his head, trying to dispel the troubling thoughts. "We must act swiftly to prevent any further manipulation," he declared, his tone firm.

“It’s too late,” Jaehaerys states, “ that particular arrow has already left the quiver, now all we can do is mitigate the damage.”

Daemon's jaw clenched as he grappled with the weight of the situation. "Then we must act decisively," he replied, his voice resolute. "We cannot allow Otto Hightower to undermine the stability of the realm any further.”

Jaehaerys leaned forward, his eyes locked on Daemon's. "I've already set plans in motion," he stated, his voice steady. "I've proposed forming a coalition with Lord Corlys Velaryon and other influential houses to investigate the situation in the Stepstones. It's a step towards revealing Otto Hightower's schemes and protecting Viserys from further manipulation.”

Daemon's eyes narrowed, his expression thoughtful as he processed Jaehaerys' words. "A coalition..." he mused, considering the potential implications. "It's a bold move, but a necessary one if we are to counteract Hightower's influence."

He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. "What do you need from me, Jaehaerys?" he asked, his tone serious. "How can I assist in this endeavor?”

Jaehaerys leaned forward, his gaze intense as he outlined his plans for the conquest of Lys and the Stepstones. "First, we must secure allies and gather our forces," he began. "Once we have a strong coalition in place, we will move to take Lys. With its strategic location and resources, it will serve as a valuable asset in our campaign."

"From there," he continued, "we will turn our attention to the Stepstones. Our goal will be to neutralize the threat posed by the Triarchy and establish control over the region. By securing the Stepstones, we can ensure the safety of Westerosi shipping and prevent further attacks on our fleets."

Daemon's eyes sparkled with excitement at the prospect of new conquests. "Why stop at Lys?" he mused, his voice filled with eagerness. "Why not take Myr and Tyrosh as well? With our combined forces and the might of our dragons, we could sweep through Essos like a storm, bringing the Free Cities to their knees."

He leaned forward, his gaze intense. "Imagine it, Jaehaerys," he continued. "A united Westeros, stretching its influence across the Narrow Sea, establishing dominion over the Free Cities and ushering in a new era of prosperity and peace."

Daemon's enthusiasm was infectious, and Jaehaerys couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement at the thought of such grand ambitions. "It's a bold plan," he conceded, "but with our combined skill in battle and my strategic vision, anything is possible.”

As the two brothers sat together, discussing their plans for conquest and the future of Westeros, their determination shined through their very being. They knew that the path ahead would be fraught with challenges and dangers, but they were united in their resolve to forge a better future for their realm.

With Jaehaerys's strategic acumen and Daemon's prowess in battle, they were a formidable duo, capable of achieving great feats. And with the power of their dragons at their command, they were poised to reshape the political landscape of Essos.

As they continued to strategize late into the night, the flames of ambition burning brightly in their hearts, they knew that the journey ahead would be long and arduous. But they also knew that as long as they stood together, there was nothing they couldn't accomplish.

And so, with their eyes set on the horizon and their minds filled with dreams of conquest and glory, the brothers prepared to embark on their great adventure, ready to carve their names into the annals of history as legendary conquerors.

Chapter Text

As the day winds down, Daemon's mind returns to Jaehaerys' mention of "mitigating the damage" concerning Alicent Hightower. He turns to Jaehaerys, his curiosity piqued.

"Jae, earlier you mentioned 'mitigating the damage' regarding Alicent Hightower," Daemon said, his tone curious. "Could you elaborate on what you meant by that?”

Jaehaerys responds with a cryptic smile, "There are ways to counter Otto Hightower's manipulations. Rest assured, I have my own strategies in place to ensure that Alicent's influence doesn't sway Viserys too much.”

Jaehaerys explains, "Otto's entire plan hinges on the assumption that Alicent will bear Viserys a son. His assumption is that if that were to happen, Viserys would undoubtedly name his son as the Heir to the Iron Throne, securing House Hightower's position in the realm.”

Daemon nods thoughtfully, absorbing the implications of Jaehaerys' words. "So, if we can disrupt this plan, it could prevent further complications," he muses, his mind already racing with potential strategies.

"During my travels," Jaehaerys begins, "I encountered a family with shockingly red hair. They had been cursed by an enemy so that the mother, whose heart's greatest desire was to have a daughter, bore six sons before a daughter was born.”

"I found their predicament fascinating and studied the curse in-depth," he explained. "After much painstaking research, I managed to find the basis of the curse, a potion that the mother had unknowingly drank.”

Daemon asked, puzzled, "But if this potion increased the chances of a son being born in the original family, how would it help us prevent the birth of a son?”

Jaehaerys replied, "The potion would need to be tweaked so that it ensures only girls are born to Viserys and Alicent. A boy would be born, but only after Rhaenya and I are long married and have already had an heir of our own.”

Daemon's initial shock at learning about Jaehaerys and Rhaenyra's betrothal quickly gave way to a subtle pang of disappointment. His heart, which had harbored feelings for Rhaenyra, felt a twinge of regret at the news. Swiftly, he masked his emotions behind a veneer of forced pleasure, attempting to conceal his inner turmoil. 

However, Jaehaerys, noticing the fleeting expression of disappointment on Daemon's face, couldn't help but address it. "Daemon," he said, his tone gentle yet probing, "is there something on your mind regarding Rhaenyra?”

Daemon, caught off guard, hesitated for a moment before composing himself. "No, Jaehaerys, of course not," he replied, forcing a smile. "I'm genuinely pleased for you both. It's just... unexpected news, that's all." His attempt to mask his true feelings fell short as a hint of longing lingered in his eyes.

Jaehaerys, with a knowing look, reached out a hand towards Daemon's shoulder. "You don't need to hide your feelings from me, Daemon," he said softly. "I can see it in your eyes. Please, don't make me delve into your thoughts. Just speak your mind openly.”

Daemon sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping with resignation. "It's true, I do feel an attraction towards Rhaenyra," he admitted, his voice tinged with regret. "However, Rhaenyra deserves someone stable, someone who can give her the love and support she needs without the chaos that follows me wherever I go. You are that person, and I... I wouldn't want to burden her with my tumultuous nature.”

Jaehaerys places a comforting hand on Daemon's shoulder, his expression understanding. "Your concern for Rhaenyra's well-being speaks volumes of your character, Daemon," he says softly. "She is fortunate to have someone like you who cares for her deeply. And rest assured, you will always have a place in our lives.”

Daemon chuckles, attempting to lighten the mood. "Well, if Viserys ever finds out we've had a hand in giving him six more daughters, he might just declare war on us himself," he jokes, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Jaehaerys chuckles, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, perhaps Viserys shouldn't have dipped his wick in Hightower honey then," he quips, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

Their laughter echoes through the room.

—

After bidding Daemon farewell, Jaehaerys returns back to Kingslanding.

As Jaehaerys dismounts from Gaelithox's back, his eyes sweep across the courtyard until they land on Rhaenyra and Ser Harrold Westerling standing by the carriage. The familiar sight of Rhaenyra fills him with warmth, and a soft smile curves his lips.

Striding over to them, Jaehaerys's boots echo against the cobblestones. His demeanor is composed yet welcoming as he nears Rhaenyra and Ser Harrold, a sense of anticipation lingering in the air. "Lady Rhaenyra, Ser Harrold," he greets them with a nod of his head, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity. "What brings you both here?”

Rhaenyra, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush, speaks up, her voice gentle yet determined. "Since you seemed to enjoy my company on the ride from the Red Keep to the dragonpit, I thought I might enjoy yours on the journey back to the Red Keep.”

Jaehaerys smiles warmly at Rhaenyra's invitation. "I would be honored to accompany you, my lady," he replies graciously.

Jaehaerys and Rhaenyra settle into the comfortable interior of the carriage, their proximity allowing for whispered conversations and stolen glances. Ser Harrold, ever vigilant, follows closely on horseback, ensuring their safety as they make their way back to the Red Keep.

Rhaenyra leans in, her eyes alight with curiosity, and asks, "So, how was your reunion with Daemon?"

As Rhaenyra leans in close, Jaehaerys notices the delicate fragrance of her perfume, a subtle blend of floral and citrus notes. The scent envelops him, adding to the warmth of the moment as they share this intimate space in the carriage.

Jaehaerys begins recounting his reunion with Daemon, his voice filled with a mix of nostalgia and excitement as he shares the details of their encounter. He describes the joy of seeing his brother again after so many years, the moments they shared, and the plans they discussed for the future. As he speaks, his eyes sparkle with fond memories, and he can't help but smile at the thought of their reunion.

As Jaehaerys speaks, Rhaenyra listens intently, captivated by the pleasant timbre of his voice. She finds herself drawn to his words, hanging on every detail of his reunion with Daemon. There's something comforting about the way he narrates the story, and she can't help but feel a sense of warmth and connection as she listens.

She finds herself experiencing a strange mix of emotions. Despite having only met Jaehaerys the day before, she feels a sense of comfort and connection with him that she can't quite explain. There's something about his presence, his voice, and the way he carries himself that draws her in. She finds herself wondering why she feels this way about her betrothed, especially considering their brief acquaintance. It's a puzzling sensation, one that she can't easily dismiss.

At the same time, Jaehaerys finds his own thoughts drifting to Rhaenyra. There's something captivating about her presence, her intelligence, and her fiery spirit that draws him in. Despite the circumstances of their betrothal and their limited time together, he can't deny the growing attraction he feels towards her. He finds himself contemplating the possibility of a future with Rhaenyra, wondering what adventures and challenges they might face together. It's a prospect that both excites and unsettles him, but he knows that whatever lies ahead, he wants her by his side.

Rhaenyra's hand trembles slightly as she extends it towards Jaehaerys, a mix of nervousness and anticipation coursing through her veins. She can feel her heart pounding in her chest, unsure of what his reaction will be. As her fingertips brush against his, she feels a jolt of electricity, a spark igniting between them. It's a moment of vulnerability, of reaching out to him in a silent plea for connection.

Jaehaerys's gaze softens as he watches her, his own hand hovering just above hers. He can sense her hesitation, her unspoken question hanging in the air. With a gentle smile, he closes the distance, his fingers intertwining with hers in a reassuring embrace. In that simple gesture, he conveys a myriad of emotions—support, affection, and a silent promise of solidarity.

Jaehaerys's lips tenderly brush against the back of Rhaenyra's hand, leaving a gentle kiss in their wake. It's a gesture filled with warmth and reverence, a silent affirmation of his affection for her. In that fleeting moment, time seems to stand still as they share a quiet connection, their hearts beating in harmony.

Rhaenyra feels a rush of warmth spread through her at the touch of his lips, a fluttering sensation stirring in the depths of her chest. It's a simple yet profound gesture, one that speaks volumes without the need for words. As Jaehaerys pulls away, his gaze meets hers, and she sees a flicker of something tender and genuine reflected in his eyes.

In that brief exchange, they share a moment of intimacy, a glimpse into the depths of their burgeoning feelings for each other. And as the journey continues, they carry with them the memory of that stolen kiss, a promise of what lies ahead on the path they tread together.

—

As they reach the Red Keep, Ser Steffon Darklyn, resplendent in his white cloak of the Kingsguard, approaches them with a solemn expression. "My Prince, Princess," he greets them with a respectful nod. "His Grace, King Viserys, has summoned you both to the Small Council Chamber."

Rhaenyra exchanges a glance with Jaehaerys, a mixture of curiosity and anticipation flickering in her eyes. With a nod of acknowledgment to Ser Steffon, they follow him through the grand halls of the Red Keep, the weight of their impending audience with the king hanging in the air like a palpable tension.

As they make their way to the Small Council Chamber, Jaehaerys and Rhaenyra exchange whispered words, their voices barely above a murmur as they speculate on the reason for the summons. With each step, the anticipation builds, and they steel themselves for whatever news or decree awaits them behind the closed doors of the chamber.

As they step into the Small Council Chamber, Jaehaerys takes note of the assembled members of the Small Council, their expressions ranging from curiosity to sternness. His gaze lingers on Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King, whose sharp eyes bore into him with a piercing intensity.

King Viserys acknowledges their presence with a nod, his expression unreadable. Clearing his throat, Otto Hightower, the towering figure at the head of the council table, addresses Jaehaerys directly. "Prince Jaehaerys," he begins, his tone clipped and formal, "we have been informed of your recent excursion to the Vale to meet with Prince Daemon."

Jaehaerys, his tone tinged with sarcasm, turns to King Viserys with a raised eyebrow. "Must I seek permission from the Hand of the King to meet with my own brother, Your Grace?" he questions, his words carrying a hint of defiance.

King Viserys, sensing the tension in the air, replies in a diplomatic tone, "Of course not, Jaehaerys. Family matters are important. I only hope that your meeting with Prince Daemon was fruitful.”

Jaehaerys, turning his attention to Otto, clarifies, "Indeed, Ser Otto, I hadn't seen Daemon in 11 years. It was high time for a reunion.”

Otto, sensing the resistance and recognizing the potential consequences of pressing the issue further, wisely decides to back down.

"Rest assured, Your Grace," Jaehaerys says with a cheerful tone, "Daemon is diligently fulfilling your commands, endeavoring to reconcile with his wife, though the progress is as sluggish as that of a snail.”

Viserys chuckles, acknowledging Jaehaerys's observation, and decides to move on to the next agenda item.

"I've been sifting through any new laws made during my absence," Jaehaerys remarks casually, "to catch up on matters of state. And I must say, I found something interesting.”

Viserys, curious, asks Jaehaerys to elaborate.

"It seems there have been some alterations to the laws concerning taxation," Jaehaerys explains. "I'd like to discuss them further with you, Your Grace.”

"Ah, taxation," Viserys muses, leaning forward with interest. "Let's hear your thoughts on the matter, Jaehaerys.”

"It seems that the new tax law allocates a certain portion of the taxes to the Starry Sept in Oldtown, Your Grace" Jaehaerys explains. "It's particularly interesting that this law was passed during the final days of the Old King Jaehaerys's life.”

As Jaehaerys reveals the details of the new tax law, murmurs ripple through the small council chamber. Some council members exchange puzzled glances, while others lean forward, eager to understand the implications of this unexpected development. Viserys's expression shifts from initial surprise to thoughtful consideration, his gaze flickering between Jaehaerys and Otto Hightower, who sits stiffly in his chair, his jaw clenched and his eyes flashing with suppressed anger. It's evident to everyone in the room that Otto Hightower is not pleased with this revelation, and his silent seething adds an air of tension to the atmosphere.

"Lord Hand," Corlys begins, his voice firm yet respectful, "is it true that such a tax law was passed through?”

The inquiry cuts through the tension in the room, prompting all eyes to turn toward Otto Hightower, awaiting his response.

As all eyes in the chamber turn toward him, Otto Hightower's expression tightens, but he maintains his composure. "Yes, Lord Corlys," he answers evenly, though his tone betrays a hint of annoyance. "The law in question was indeed passed during the final days of King Jaehaerys's reign.”

Viserys, intrigued by the revelation, furrows his brow and asks, "Why is the crown paying the Faith of the Seven from its own pocket, when they already receive generous donations from most Lords of the realm?”

Lord Corlys adds, "Furthermore, this places undue financial strain on Houses that do not follow the Faith, such as most of the Northern Houses.”

Jaehaerys states the obvious, saying, "As the King was on his deathbed, the law would have been passed by one person and one person only: his Hand, Otto Hightower.”

The chamber erupts into murmurs and whispers, filled with disbelief and speculation, as Jaehaerys's words cast a shadow of suspicion over Otto Hightower's actions.

"I assure you, my lords, the passage of this law was for the greater good of the realm," Otto Hightower declares, his tone firm and unwavering. "The Starry Sept plays a vital role in maintaining stability and order, and the crown's support ensures its continued function.”

Jaehaerys interjects, his voice calm yet authoritative. "While the crown holds the title of 'The Protector of the Faith,' it's important to remember that the functioning of the Faith is not a State matter. The crown's involvement in the financial affairs of the Faith should be limited to matters of exceptional importance to the realm.”

"We agree," Lord Strong begins, his voice firm. "The functioning of the Faith should not be a matter for the state to fund."

Lord Beesbury chimes in, his tone echoing the sentiment. "Indeed, it sets a dangerous precedent to burden the crown and its subjects with such expenses.”

"Allow me to make a suggestion," Jaehaerys states, "the major houses of Westeros will soon be arriving in the capital to swear fealty to me as the new heir. We can utilize this occasion to conduct a vote. It would enable the lords to decide whether they wish to uphold the existing tax law or not.”

The chamber murmurs with a mix of anticipation and apprehension, as the lords contemplate the prospect of their voices being heard on such a significant matter. Some nod in agreement, while others exchange cautious glances, unsure of the potential ramifications of such a vote.

"Jaehaerys, your proposal is sound," Viserys acknowledges, his tone thoughtful. "We shall indeed put the matter to a vote when the major houses gather in the capital."

His decision is met with a mixture of relief and anticipation from the assembled lords, who now await further instructions on how to proceed with the upcoming vote.

"Thank you all for your contributions today," Viserys announces, his voice commanding attention. "The council is dismissed." As the other members begin to file out of the chamber, he fixes Otto with a stern gaze. "Lord Hightower, I would have a word with you.”

As they step outside, Lord Corlys walks up to Jaehaerys as Rhaenyra is busy talking to Lord Strong.

"An astute move, Prince Jaehaerys," Lord Corlys remarks, his tone carrying a hint of admiration. "Your suggestion has certainly set the stage for some interesting developments between the king and his Hand.”

Jaehaerys nods in acknowledgment, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Thank you, Lord Corlys. Sometimes, a well-timed suggestion can illuminate the path forward in unexpected ways.”

Jaehaerys leans in slightly, his voice low. "And let us not forget, Lord Corlys, that your foresight in capitalizing on this opportunity will undoubtedly strengthen our position further. The plan we agreed upon last night will ensure that we navigate these turbulent waters with successfully.”

"Indeed," Lord Corlys responds with a nod of agreement. "Together, we shall navigate these waters with success, ensuring that our realm remains stable and prosperous." With an understanding of their shared goals, the two men part ways, each returning to their respective duties with a renewed sense of purpose and determination.

—

As Jaehaerys rejoins Rhaenyra, he finds her waiting patiently, her eyes lighting up as he approaches. With a gentle smile, she reaches out and takes his hand, their fingers intertwining in a silent exchange of warmth and reassurance. Ser Harrold and Ser Steffon stand nearby, ever vigilant but discreet, allowing the couple their moment of connection amidst the bustling activity of the Red Keep.

"Let's visit the Weirwood Tree in the Godswood,” Rhaenyra suggests, “it's my favorite place."

"That sounds wonderful." Jaehaerys answers with a smile.

Hand in hand, they navigate the corridors of the Red Keep, drawn by the tranquility of the Godswood. Rhaenyra leads Jaehaerys to the majestic Weirwood Tree, its ancient white bark standing as a silent sentinel.

"Here, I find solace and clarity." Rhaenyra says, her lips quivering in a tranquil smile.

"I can see why.” He replies, “It's beautiful."

"Amidst the whispers of the leaves and the gentle rustle of the wind,” Rhaenyra says closing her eyes, “I find peace."

Jaehaerys nods in understanding, "It's a special place indeed.” He says, admiring Rhaenyra's connection to the sacred place.

They sit beneath the tree, enveloped in the serene atmosphere of the Godswood, their hearts united in silent communion.

Chapter Text

As the days passed, Jaehaerys and Rhaenyra's bond deepened, each moment together strengthening their connection. While they had not yet shared a kiss, their affection for one another blossomed in subtle gestures and stolen glances.

They found solace in the quiet moments, relishing the warmth of each other's touch and the intimacy of whispered conversations. Hand in hand, they explored the corridors of the Red Keep, their laughter echoing through the halls as they shared secrets and dreams.

In the privacy of their shared moments, they reveled in the blossoming romance between them, savoring the sweetness of their budding love. With each passing day, their hearts drew closer, their unspoken desires weaving a tapestry of longing and anticipation.

In the tranquil embrace of the Godswood, Jaehaerys would often weave enchanting displays of magic to captivate Rhaenyra, her eyes alight with wonder and fascination. With a flourish of his hand, he conjured shimmering lights that danced among the branches of the ancient trees, their iridescent glow casting a magical aura over the sacred grove.

As Rhaenyra watched in awe, Jaehaerys delighted in showcasing his mystical abilities, his spells and incantations weaving intricate patterns of light and shadow. He summoned gentle breezes that rustled the leaves overhead, creating a symphony of whispers that echoed through the stillness of the forest.

With each display of his magic, Jaehaerys reveled in Rhaenyra's delight, her laughter ringing out like music in the air. Together, they lost themselves in the enchanting spectacle, their hearts entwined in the magic of their shared moments.

—

As Jaehaerys stepped out of his chambers, ready to greet the ship carrying his most trusted men, he was surprised to find Rhaenyra waiting for him, flanked by Ser Westerling and Ser Darklyn. Her presence filled him with a sense of warmth and anticipation, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she met his gaze.

"Nyra," Jaehaerys exclaimed, a smile spreading across his face. "What a pleasant surprise."

Rhaenyra returned his smile, her expression radiant as she stepped forward to greet him. "I couldn't miss the opportunity to welcome your men myself," she replied, her voice filled with genuine enthusiasm.

Jaehaerys's heart swelled with affection at her gesture, grateful for her unwavering support. With a nod of gratitude, he offered her his arm, and together they made their way to the port, Ser Westerling and Ser Darklyn following close behind.

As they approached the harbor, the sight of the ship coming into view filled Jaehaerys with a sense of anticipation. 

As the ship drew nearer, Jaehaerys couldn't help but feel a swell of pride at the sight of his personal sigil proudly displayed on the sails. The Targaryen Black and Red Stylized Dragon with its wings outstretched, holding a sword, surrounded by a Runic Circle, stood boldly against the gray background of the sail. It was a symbol of his heritage, his power, and his determination to forge his own path in the world.

With a firm grip on Rhaenyra's hand, Jaehaerys watched as the ship docked, eager to greet his trusted companions and embark on the next chapter of their journey together.

A man in brown leather armor bounds off the ship as it docks, his movements filled with a palpable sense of excitement. With a wide grin on his face, he rushes over to Jaehaerys, his arms outstretched for a hug. Jaehaerys reciprocates the embrace warmly, feeling a surge of camaraderie and familiarity wash over him at the sight of his trusted companion.

"Welcome to Westeros, my friend," Jaehaerys greets him warmly, clapping him on the shoulder as they step back from their embrace. "It's good to see you again. How was the journey?”

"The journey was long, but uneventful, thankfully," the man replies with a grin. "Your instructions were clear, and we made good time. I trust all is well here in Westeros?”

“Things are well,” Jaehaerys replies, “Come, let me introduce you to my betrothed.

The man laughs teasingly as he hears this. "You must be quite the catch to have already been betrothed after only being back in Westeros for a week, my friend.”

Jaehaerys chuckles, nodding in agreement. "Indeed, my friend. It seems fate works in mysterious ways.”

Jaehaerys and the man walk over to Rhaenyra.

"Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, allow me to introduce Vaelar Ullaro, Former First Sword of Braavos," Jaehaerys says, his tone respectful as he introduces his friend.

Rhaenyra observes Vaelar, noting his imposing stature, with a tall and broad frame. His thick, long black beard and curly black hair add to his commanding presence.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Vaelar," Rhaenyra says warmly, her voice sincere as she extends her hand in greeting.

Vaelar greets her back with a charming smile. "It's a pleasure, Princess Rhaenyra. Although, I must admit, it's a wonder what a beautiful princess like yourself is doing with Harry here," he teases, his tone light-hearted.

Vaelar's teasing remark earns a playful yet questioning look from Rhaenyra as she glances at Jaehaerys, who raises an eyebrow at the nickname, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Harry?" Rhaenyra questions, her tone laced with amusement as she casts a sidelong glance at Jaehaerys.

"It's a nickname I acquired during my time away," Jaehaerys responds with a chuckle, exchanging a knowing glance with Rhaenyra.

“Do you prefer Jae or Harry” Rhaenyra asks him with an impish smile.

Jaehaerys returns Rhaenyra's smile, considering her question for a moment. "I think I've grown rather fond of 'Harry' during my travels," he says with a playful grin.

Blushing slightly, Rhaenyra admits, "Perhaps I might grow fond of the name too.”

Jaehaerys chuckles softly at Rhaenyra's blush, feeling a warmth spread through him at her words. "Perhaps you will," he replies, his gaze softening as he looks at her.

The moment is interrupted by the sound of a young girl's voice calling out "Harry!" from aboard the ship.

Rhaenyra's gaze shifts toward the source of the enthusiastic shout, her curiosity piqued. Through the bustling activity at the harbor, she spots a young girl aboard the ship, her youthful figure outlined against the backdrop of the bustling port. The girl's voice rings out with youthful exuberance, calling out the name "Harry" with a sense of familiarity that catches Rhaenyra's attention. With a keen eye, Rhaenyra observes the girl's features—a youthful visage framed by tousled crimson locks, her vibrant energy radiating from every gesture. As their eyes meet across the distance, Rhaenyra offers the girl a warm smile, recognizing the innocence and excitement mirrored in her own youthful spirit.

Once safely off the ship, the young girl bounds across the gangplank with unrestrained enthusiasm, her youthful energy propelling her towards Jaehaerys. With a wide grin adorning her face, she envelops him in a tight embrace, her arms wrapping around him with a sense of familiarity and affection. "Harry!" she exclaims, her voice filled with genuine joy as she clings to him, relishing the warmth of his presence after their time apart.

Jaehaerys returns the embrace warmly, his arms encircling the young girl affectionately. "Mel," he says fondly, his voice tinged with happiness at their reunion.

Once Mel lets go of Jaehaerys, he walks her over to Rhaenyra. With a smile still lingering on his lips, he introduces them. "Rhaenyra, this is Melony," he says, gesturing towards the young girl. "Mel, meet Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen.”

Rhaenyra bends down slightly to Mel's level. "It's lovely to meet you, Mel," she says with a smile. "Harry has told me all about you.”

"Are you really a princess?" Mel asks, her eyes wide with awe and wonder.

"Yes, I am," Rhaenyra replies, her tone gentle as she meets Mel's gaze. "It's not as exciting as it sounds, though," she adds with a playful twinkle in her eye.

Mel looks at Rhaenyra with wide eyes, captivated by the notion of royalty. "Still, it must be amazing to live in a castle and wear beautiful dresses," she says with a hint of admiration.

Rhaenyra smiles warmly at Mel. "You know what, Mel? Since you'll be living in a castle and wearing beautiful dresses from now on too, I promise to ask you the same question in a year's time," she says, her tone filled with genuine affection.

Mel's eyes widen with excitement at the thought. "Really? That would be amazing!" she exclaims, her enthusiasm bubbling over.

Jaehaerys interrupts them, his voice gentle yet firm. "Mel, there's something I need to tell you," he begins, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder. "Rhaenyra and I are now betrothed. We'll be getting married in three years' time.”

Mel's eyes widen in surprise at Jaehaerys's announcement, her mouth forming a small 'o' of astonishment. She looks between Jaehaerys and Rhaenyra, her expression a mix of excitement and curiosity.

Rhaenyra and Jaehaerys share a fond smile at Mel's reaction, their eyes reflecting the joy of their impending union. "Yes, it's true, Mel," Rhaenyra confirms, her voice gentle. "Jaehaerys and I will be getting married in three years' time.”

Mel's eyes widen with excitement, and she clasps her hands together in delight. "That's wonderful news!" she exclaims, her voice filled with genuine happiness. "I'm so happy for both of you!”

Jaehaerys and Rhaenyra exchange joyful glances, their hearts warmed by Mel's genuine happiness. They both smile, grateful for her enthusiastic reaction to their news.

Jaehaerys glances at Vaelar, nodding in his direction as he issues instructions. "Vaelar, please oversee the swift unloading of our men and their supplies. Ser Darklyn, I trust you to arrange for horses and carriages to transport them to the Red Keep.”

Vaelar and Ser Darklyn nod in acknowledgement, swiftly moving to carry out Jaehaerys's commands. Their obedience reflects their respect for Jaehaerys's authority and their dedication to their tasks.

Jaehaerys turns to Mel with a warm smile. "Mel, you'll be joining us in our carriage," he informs her kindly, gesturing towards the waiting carriage nearby. Mel's eyes light up with excitement at the prospect of accompanying Jaehaerys and Rhaenyra.

—

As they enter through the towering gates of the Red Keep, Jaehaerys scans the bustling courtyard, his gaze alighting upon Viserys and the assembled members of the Small Council. The air is alive with the sounds of horses' hooves clattering against the cobblestones, the chatter of courtiers, and the distant echoes of the city beyond the castle walls.

Viserys stands at the center of the courtyard, his regal presence commanding attention, flanked by his advisors and council members. Jaehaerys's eyes meet the king's, and he offers a respectful nod in acknowledgment.

Rhaenyra walks beside Jaehaerys, her demeanor composed yet poised, while Vaelar and Mel follow closely behind. Together, they navigate the bustling courtyard, making their way toward Viserys and the members of the Small Council, ready to join the ongoing discussions and affairs of the realm.

Jaehaerys approaches Viserys with a respectful bow before extending a greeting. "Your Grace," he begins, his voice steady and respectful. "Allow me to introduce Vaelar Ullaro and Melony. Vaelar is the former First Sword of Braavos, and Melony is a dear friend."

Viserys acknowledges them with a nod, his gaze shifting between the newcomers and Jaehaerys. "Welcome to the Red Keep," he says warmly, his tone inviting.

The members of the Small Council exchange curious glances at the mention of Vaelar's prestigious former position, their interest piqued by his presence in the Red Keep. Meanwhile, Viserys, having heard Melony's story from Jaehaerys, looks at her warmly, a fond smile gracing his features.

"Welcome to the Red Keep, Melony, Vaelar," Viserys says with a warm smile. "It's a pleasure to have you both here. You'll find that we take hospitality very seriously, and I assure you, you'll be well taken care of during your stay.”

Viserys gestures, and an attendant approaches Melony and Vaelar, presenting them with a plate containing bread and salt. "As guests in the Red Keep, you are offered the traditional guest rite of bread and salt," Viserys explains, with a respectful nod.

Vaelar and Melony each take a piece of bread, dip it into the offered salt, and eat it, signifying their acceptance of the guest right and the hospitality extended to them in the Red Keep.

As they step into the grandeur of the Red Keep, Melony clutches Rhaenyra's hand tightly, her eyes wide with wonder at the towering walls and bustling courtyard. Vaelar walks beside them, his gaze sweeping over the impressive architecture with a sense of admiration. Despite the unfamiliar surroundings, they find comfort in the presence of their companions, their steps guided by the reassuring touch of friendship.

Rhaenyra wastes no time in leading Melony to Alicent, eager to introduce them to each other. As they approach, Rhaenyra's warm smile radiates with excitement, while Melony's eyes sparkle with curiosity.

"Melony, this is Lady Alicent Hightower, a dear friend of mine.” Rhaenyra announces with enthusiasm, her voice carrying across the courtyard. "Alicent, meet Melony, Jaehaerys’ friend from Essos.”

Alicent offers a warm smile, extending her hand in greeting to Melony. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Melony. Welcome to the Red Keep," she says graciously, her tone welcoming and genuine. Melony returns the smile, her eyes wide with wonder as she takes Alicent's hand, feeling a sense of awe at the grandeur of her surroundings.

—

As Melony accompanies Rhaenyra and Alicent to the Princess' Chambers, they engage in lively conversation along the way. Melony shares tales of their adventures in Essos, regaling Alicent and Rhaenyra with stories of exotic lands and daring escapades. Alicent listens attentively, her curiosity piqued by Melony's presence and the tales she hears.

Upon reaching the Princess' Chambers, Rhaenyra turns to Melony.

"Melony, please make yourself comfortable," she says warmly as they enter the Princess' Chambers. "Alicent and I have a few matters to attend to, but we'll join you shortly."

Melony nods eagerly, taking in the opulence of the room. "Of course, Princess Rhaenyra. Thank you."

Alicent smiles kindly at Melony. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Melony. I look forward to getting to know you better."

Melony returns the smile. "Likewise, Lady Alicent. Thank you."

With that, Rhaenyra and Alicent step aside to confer quietly, leaving Melony to explore the chambers on her own.

As Melony wanders around the chambers, she notices the intricate tapestries adorning the walls, depicting scenes of legendary battles and noble houses of Westeros. Her gaze lingers on the ornate furnishings and the majestic canopy bed, marveling at the grandeur of the room.

Lost in her thoughts, Melony doesn't notice Rhaenyra and Alicent returning until they call her name. She turns to find them with smiles on their faces, beckoning her to join them.

"Melony, we've made arrangements for you to have your own chambers nearby," Rhaenyra says, gesturing towards the door. "We thought you might appreciate some privacy during your stay."

Melony's eyes widen in surprise and gratitude. "Thank you, Princess Rhaenyra. That's very generous of you."

Alicent nods in agreement. "Indeed, it's the least we can do to make you feel at home here in King's Landing."

With a heartfelt thank you, Melony follows Rhaenyra and Alicent out of the chambers, eager to see her new quarters and continue her adventures in the capital.

—-

As Jaehaerys leads Vaelar to his chambers, they engage in lively conversation, catching up on old times and sharing tales of their adventures since they last met. Their camaraderie is evident as they reminisce about their shared experiences and discuss the events unfolding in King's Landing.

Before long, Lord Corlys joins them, his presence adding an air of gravitas to the gathering. As they settle into the comfortable surroundings of Jaehaerys's chambers, they exchange greetings and pleasantries, their conversation turning to more serious matters.

Jaehaerys begins by recounting his discussion with Daemon regarding the potential conquest of not only the Stepstones and Lys but also Myr and Tyrosh. He outlines the strategic advantages and challenges of such an ambitious endeavor, emphasizing the need for careful planning and coordination.

As they deliberate on strategies to garner support for their cause and ensure a favorable outcome, Lord Corlys offers his insights into the political dynamics of the Free Cities and the potential alliances that could be forged. He suggests reaching out to influential figures and leveraging existing connections to rally support for their campaign.

Vaelar, drawing on his experiences in Essos, provides valuable perspective on the military tactics and logistical challenges involved in a multi-front campaign. He offers suggestions for coordinating naval and land forces, as well as securing supply lines and reinforcements.

Together, they map out a comprehensive strategy that encompasses diplomatic outreach, military preparedness, and logistical planning.

With the discussions concluded and plans set in motion, Jaehaerys reaches for a decanter of whiskey, pouring generous servings for himself, Lord Corlys, and Vaelar. As he raises his glass, the rich aroma of the aged spirit fills the air, adding a sense of warmth to the chamber.

"To our shared endeavors," Jaehaerys declares, his voice resonant with determination. "May our actions be guided by wisdom, courage, and the spirit of unity. Together, we shall navigate the challenges ahead and emerge victorious in our pursuit of a better future for the realm."

With a nod of agreement from Lord Corlys and Vaelar, they clink their glasses together, the sound echoing softly in the room. As they savor the smooth taste of the whiskey, they are united in purpose. As they continue to strategize late into the night, their resolve remains unyielding, setting the stage for the future of the realm.

Chapter Text

As the morning sun cast its golden glow over the Red Keep, the training grounds came to life with the rhythmic clang of steel meeting steel. Jaehaerys Targaryen, the newly appointed heir to the Iron Throne, stood tall and resolute, facing off against Ser Ryam, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. 

With each swing of his blade, Jaehaerys demonstrated his fluid and precise movements. Sweat glistened on his brow as he parried Ser Ryam's attacks with skillful ease, his eyes focused and unwavering.

On the sidelines, Vaelar, the former First Sword of Braavos, observed the sparring match with keen interest, his arms crossed over his chest. Beside him stood Ser Steffon, another member of the Kingsguard, who watched with a trained eye.

Above them, on the balcony overlooking the training grounds, stood Viserys Targaryen, the King of the Seven Kingdoms, accompanied by his daughter Rhaenyra, with Melony in tow. The trio cheered enthusiastically for Jaehaerys, their voices echoing across the courtyard, mingling with the clash of swords below.

"Come on, Harry! Show them what you're made of!" Rhaenyra called out, her voice filled with pride and admiration.

Melony clapped her hands eagerly, her eyes shining with excitement as she watched the sparring match unfold. Beside her, Ser Harrold Westerling of the Kingsguard, stood stoically, his gaze fixed on Jaehaerys with a mixture of respect and approval.

As the duel between Jaehaerys and Ser Ryam continued, the tension in the air grew palpable, each strike and parry a testament to Jaehaerys's determination to prove himself worthy of his newfound title.

Jaehaerys displayed a unique blend of combat styles, seamlessly intertwining the fluid movements of Braavosi Water Dancing with the more traditional techniques of Westerosi swordsmanship.

With each graceful step, Jaehaerys danced around Ser Ryam, his movements reminiscent of the flowing currents of a river. His blade darted and weaved with precision, striking at his opponent from unexpected angles.

At the same time, Jaehaerys incorporated elements of the Westerosi style, adding power and strength to his attacks. His strikes carried the weight of a dragon's fury, landing with force and impact.

The combination of these two distinct styles created a mesmerizing spectacle, drawing the attention of all who watched. Vaelar, with his background in Braavosi swordsmanship, nodded in approval, recognizing the influence of his homeland in Jaehaerys's technique.

From the balcony above, Rhaenyra and Melony watched in awe as Jaehaerys moved with grace and agility, effortlessly blending the elegance of Braavos with the strength of Westeros. Their admiration for him grew with each masterful stroke of his blade.

As the spar came to an end, Jaehaerys stood victorious, his unique combat style leaving a lasting impression on all who witnessed it. With a confident smile, he sheathed his sword, knowing that he had demonstrated not only his skill in battle but also his ability to adapt and evolve in the face of any challenge.

Viserys smiled proudly from the balcony, his eyes shining with pride as he watched his brother's victory. Rhaenyra and Melony exchanged excited glances, their hearts filled with admiration for Jaehaerys's skill and bravery.

As Jaehaerys and Ser Ryam exchanged a respectful nod.

However, Jaehaerys paused, sensing a hesitation in Ser Ryam's demeanor that had persisted since his return. With a knowing look, he addressed the Lord Commander directly, his voice firm yet gentle.

"Ser Ryam," Jaehaerys began, "I've noticed a hesitation in your movements, a weight upon your shoulders that wasn't there before. Whatever burdens you carry, know that you can share them with me. Let whatever you're thinking out." 

His words hung in the air, the training ground falling silent as all eyes turned to Ser Ryam, awaiting his response.

Ser Ryam's shoulders sagged with the weight of his confession, his gaze fixed on Jaehaerys as he spoke. 

"Prince Jaehaerys," he began, his voice heavy with remorse, "I owe you an apology. Eleven years ago, I was tasked by the Old King Jaehaerys to specifically prevent you from entering Prince Baelon's chambers and healing him. As my loyalty to my king is absolute, I obeyed his command without question."

He paused, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. 

"I know that if I had not stood in your way, you would have simply blasted through the doors, regardless of who stood guard. However, the respect you had for me as my squire restricted you from harming me. My duty and loyalty to my King cost you both of your parents, and led to your exile." 

Ser Ryam's voice faltered, his expression filled with remorse as he awaited Jaehaerys's response.

Jaehaerys regarded Ser Ryam with a steady gaze, his expression inscrutable as he processed the knight's apology. After a moment of contemplative silence, he spoke, his tone measured yet filled with a sense of understanding.

"Ser Ryam," he began, his voice carrying a note of solemnity, "your honesty and humility in admitting your past actions speak volumes of your character. While the events of the past cannot be undone, your willingness to acknowledge your role in it is a testament to your integrity as a knight of the Kingsguard."

He paused, his gaze unwavering as he continued.

"I harbor no ill will towards you, Ser Ryam. We were all bound by the orders of our king, and it is not for me to judge the decisions made in those tumultuous times. What matters now is the present and the future. Let us move forward with renewed resolve and dedication to our duties, ensuring that history is not repeated."

With a nod of acknowledgment, Jaehaerys extended his hand in a gesture of reconciliation, his expression softening with a hint of forgiveness.

“Have you been Knighted yet, my Prince? Ser Ryam asks his former squire.

"Not yet, Ser Ryam," Jaehaerys responds, his tone reflective.

"You were the knight I aspired to emulate, Ser Ryam," he admits, his voice tinged with regret. "But fate had other plans. By the time I had the opportunity to prove myself in the eyes of the realm, I was exiled. Nonetheless, your teachings and guidance have shaped me, and I still hold the hope that one day, when the time is right, you'll be the one to knight me.”

As Viserys steps onto the training grounds, his presence commands attention. His voice carries authority as he listens to Jaehaerys's words with a thoughtful expression. When Jaehaerys finishes speaking, Viserys steps forward, his gaze meeting Ser Ryam's.

"Ser Ryam," Viserys begins, his tone firm yet respectful, "Prince Jaehaerys's actions in Essos have more than earned him a knighthood. His valor, his dedication to our family, and his unwavering commitment to the cause of freedom are qualities befitting a knight of the realm."

Turning to Jaehaerys, Viserys continues, "You have proven yourself time and time again, my brother. It is my honor to bestow upon you the accolade you rightly deserve."

With a solemn nod, Ser Ryam steps forward, drawing his sword. Jaehaerys meets his former mentor's gaze, a mixture of gratitude and determination shining in his eyes. As the blade touches his shoulders, the weight of the moment sinks in. With a swift motion, Ser Ryam knights Jaehaerys, his voice ringing out across the training grounds.

"I, Ser Ryam, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, do hereby dub thee Ser Jaehaerys Targaryen. In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just and honorable. In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the innocent and protect the weak. In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave and true. Rise, Ser Jaehaerys, knight of the Seven Kingdoms."

As Jaehaerys rises from his knighting, Vaelar steps forward with a smirk, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Well, well, Ser Jaehaerys," he begins, his tone light-hearted, "looks like you finally got that fancy title you've been pining for. I suppose it's time to start acting like a proper knight now, eh?"

His words are met with a chuckle from those gathered around, as Jaehaerys rolls his eyes playfully. "I'll do my best to live up to the expectations, Vaelar," Jaehaerys replies, his voice tinged with amusement. "Though I can't promise I'll ever be as witty as you."

Vaelar laughs, clapping Jaehaerys on the shoulder. "Just remember, Ser Jaehaerys, with great knighthood comes great responsibility. But don't worry, I'll be here to keep you in line."

Their exchange is punctuated by laughter and camaraderie, as those around them join in the celebration of Jaehaerys's newfound title.

As the cheers and laughter fill the training grounds, Mel rushes forward with uncontainable excitement, her youthful exuberance propelling her into Jaehaerys's arms with a jubilant cry. "Harry!" she exclaims, her voice ringing out in sheer delight. "You did it! You're a knight!"

Before Jaehaerys could react, Mel had thrown herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck in a tight embrace. Her infectious energy spreads through the air, filling the moment with unrestrained joy and boundless enthusiasm. Caught off guard by her sudden outburst, Jaehaerys staggers slightly before wrapping his arms around her in a warm embrace.

"Thank you, Mel," Jaehaerys says, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. "I couldn't have done it without your unwavering support."

Mel beams up at him, her eyes shining with pride and admiration. "You're the best, Harry!" she declares, her words echoing with heartfelt sincerity.

Rhaenyra saunters over to the jubilant scene with a playful glint in her eyes, her lips curved into a wry smile.

With a theatrical sigh and a mock pout, Rhaenyra joins the fray, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm. "Well, well, well," she teases, her tone laced with faux indignation. "Seems like someone forgot about their betrothed in all this excitement."

Her words are met with a chorus of laughter from those gathered around, who exchange knowing glances at Rhaenyra's playful antics. Despite her playful demeanor, there's a warmth in her eyes as she steps forward to join the celebration, her affection for Jaehaerys shining through in every teasing word.

While no one is looking, Rhaenyra leans in close to Jaehaerys, her breath warm against his ear as she delivers her sultry promise. Her voice, soft and intimate, carries a hint of mischief as she speaks.

"Congratulations, my knight," she whispers, her words laced with seductive undertones. "I'll be sure to congratulate you properly when we're alone in the Godswood later today."

Her lips brush against his earlobe with a feather-light touch before she pulls away, a mischievous glint dancing in her eyes. The suggestive promise hangs in the air, leaving Jaehaerys momentarily breathless as he meets her gaze, his heart quickening at the anticipation of what's to come.

Viserys interrupts the tender moment, unaware of the sultry exchange between Jaehaerys and Rhaenyra. He approaches them with a warm smile, his eyes filled with paternal pride as he addresses Jaehaerys.

"Congratulations, my brother," Viserys says, clapping a hand on Jaehaerys's shoulder. "It's time for some refreshments. You must be tired from all the sparring."

His words carry a genuine warmth, reflecting both his pride in Jaehaerys's accomplishments and his concern for his well-being. Jaehaerys nods in acknowledgment, his mind still lingering on Rhaenyra's whispered promise as they make their way towards the refreshments, the anticipation of their private rendezvous in the Godswood adding an extra spring to his step.

—

After enjoying some refreshments and spending time with Mel, Jaehaerys engages in a meeting with Lord Beesbury to discuss the proposed new tax law. Together, they deliberate on the intricacies of the legislation and strategize on how to garner support from the other Lords of the realm.

As noon approaches, Jaehaerys makes his way to the Godswood, his heart pounding with anticipation at the thought of meeting Rhaenyra. With each step, he feels the weight of responsibility and the thrill of forbidden desire intertwining within him. The lush greenery of the Godswood envelops him as he enters, the tranquil atmosphere lending an air of secrecy to their rendezvous.

Spotting Rhaenyra waiting for him beneath the ancient Weirwood Tree, Jaehaerys's pulse quickens. With a soft smile, he approaches her, his steps echoing softly against the moss-covered ground. As they come face to face, a wave of emotion washes over him, their eyes locking in silent communion.

"Rhaenyra," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with longing and affection. "I've been looking forward to this moment all day.”

Rhaenyra chuckles softly, her eyes dancing with playful mischief as she teases Jaehaerys. "And here I thought I was the damsel in distress, waiting for my knight in shining armor to rescue me," she quips, her tone light and teasing. "But it seems the roles have been reversed today." 

Her words are accompanied by a gentle smile, tinged with warmth and affection, as she gazes up at Jaehaerys, reveling in their shared moment of lighthearted banter.

Jaehaerys, with a playful glint in his eyes, gently reminds Rhaenyra of her promise. "You promised me a proper congratulations," he says, his tone teasing yet filled with anticipation. "I believe we have some unfinished business to attend to in the Godswood, my lady." 

His words carry a hint of mischief as he nods towards the serene surroundings of the Godswood.

Rhaenyra, with a coy smile playing on her lips, leans in closer to Jaehaerys. "Indeed, my knight deserves the honor of this damsel's first kiss," she whispers softly, her voice carrying a hint of warmth and affection. With a gentle touch, she closes the distance between them, pressing her lips against his in a tender embrace beneath the ancient branches of the Godswood.

Jaehaerys's heart skips a beat as Rhaenyra's lips meet his, sending a rush of warmth coursing through him. He responds to her kiss with equal tenderness, savoring the moment as they share their first kiss beneath the serene canopy of the Godswood. With a contented sigh, he wraps his arms around her, pulling her closer as they linger in each other's embrace, lost in the magic of the moment.

Rhaenyra's lips curve into a soft smile against Jaehaerys’, her heart fluttering with a mix of excitement and affection. As they part from their kiss, she meets his gaze with sparkling eyes, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You truly are my knight in shining armor," she murmurs, her words filled with warmth and admiration.

Jaehaerys's heart swells with warmth at Rhaenyra's words, a sense of pride and joy washing over him. He gazes into her eyes, and he can't help but return her smile with one of his own.

"And you," he replies softly, "will always be my beloved princess.”

Rhaenyra pulls him in for another kiss, intent on spending all of their time together exploring this new dimension to their relationship.

Lost in the moment, Jaehaerys reciprocates the kiss, savoring the sweetness of their newfound intimacy. As they embrace, time seems to stand still, and he knows that from this moment onward, their bond will only grow stronger with each passing day.

Chapter Text

With the memory of the kisses shared with Rhaenyra still lingering in his mind, Jaehaerys stands at the gates of the Red Keep, ready to receive the first of the Lords arriving. His heart beats with a mixture of anticipation and resolve as the grand procession approaches. The banners of the noble houses flutter in the wind, a colorful testament to the power and influence of the Seven Kingdoms.

Jaehaerys stands tall and composed, the recent moments with Rhaenyra giving him a sense of purpose and strength. By his side, Vaelar and Melony stand ready to welcome the arriving lords, their presence a comforting reminder of his allies from Essos. Ser Ryam, now the knight who bestowed him the title, stands just behind him, a symbol of the old guard's acceptance and support.

The first banners to be seen are those of House Stark, the grey direwolf on a white field. Lord Rickon Stark, stern and imposing, leads his retinue, his gaze sweeping the courtyard as he dismounts. Jaehaerys steps forward, offering a respectful bow.

“Welcome to King’s Landing, Lord Stark,” Jaehaerys says, his voice steady and authoritative.

“Prince Jaehaerys,” Rickon Stark responds with a nod, his tone measured. “It is an honor to be here.”

As more lords arrive, each bearing their house sigils with pride, Jaehaerys greets them with the same respect and formality. He knows that each interaction is crucial in garnering support for the changes he and his allies wish to see implemented in the realm.

Soon, the banners of House Lannister appear, the golden lion gleaming in the sunlight. Lord Jason Lannister, with his golden mane and proud demeanor, strides forward. Jaehaerys meets him with a firm handshake.

“Lord Lannister, welcome,” Jaehaerys greets him.

“Prince Jaehaerys, it’s good to finally meet the talk of the realm,” Jason replies with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

The procession continues, with the lords of the Reach, the Stormlands, and the Vale arriving in turn. Each greeting is a delicate dance of power and politics, and Jaehaerys handles them with the grace and composure befitting a prince.

As the stream of noble lords continues to pour into the Red Keep, one lord in particular catches Jaehaerys' attention – Lord Hobart Hightower, the lord of Oldtown and older brother to Otto Hightower. The arrival of House Hightower, with its distinct white beacon on a grey background, adds an air of sophistication and historical gravitas to the procession. Jaehaerys, however, knows that behind this dignified facade lies a man deeply enmeshed in the political machinations of his brother, Otto.

Jaehaerys steps forward, his gaze fixed on the older, imposing figure dismounting from his horse. Lord Hobart Hightower, known for his keen intellect and strategic mind, approaches with an air of quiet authority. His presence is formidable, and the familial connection to Otto Hightower only adds to the intrigue and caution Jaehaerys feels.

“Lord Hightower, welcome to King’s Landing,” Jaehaerys greets him, his voice filled with respect.

Lord Hobart studies Jaehaerys for a moment, his sharp eyes taking in every detail. “Prince Jaehaerys,” he responds, his tone measured but polite. “It is an honor to be here.”

Jaehaerys gestures for Lord Hobart to join him as they walk further into the courtyard. “I trust your journey from Oldtown was uneventful?” he inquires, seeking to engage the lord in conversation.

“It was smooth, thank you,” Lord Hobart replies. “Oldtown sends its regards to the capital.”

As they walk, Jaehaerys senses an opportunity to delve deeper into the relationship between the Hightower brothers and the dynamics of the realm. “Your brother, Otto, has been a pillar of support for my brother, King Viserys. I hope we can count on your wisdom and guidance as well.”

Lord Hobart nods thoughtfully. “Otto has always been devoted to the realm’s stability. As for me, I am here to observe and ensure that Oldtown’s interests align with those of the crown.”

Jaehaerys senses the careful balance Lord Hobart maintains between familial loyalty and his own political acumen. However, he is also acutely aware of the potential duplicity. “Your presence here is invaluable, Lord Hobart. Together, we can work towards a future that benefits all the Seven Kingdoms.”

Lord Hobart’s lips curl into a faint smile. “Indeed, Prince Jaehaerys. I look forward to our discussions.”

As they reach the steps leading into the Red Keep, Jaehaerys turns to formally introduce Lord Hobart to his companions. “Lord Hightower, may I present Vaelar, formerly the First Sword of Braavos, and young Melony, both dear friends and trusted allies.”

Lord Hobart regards them with a nod. “A pleasure to meet you both.”

Vaelar, with his usual charm, steps forward. “The honor is ours, Lord Hightower. Oldtown’s reputation precedes it.”

Melony, wide-eyed and curious, offers a shy smile, which Lord Hobart acknowledges with a gentle nod.

With the introductions made, Jaehaerys takes a moment to reflect on the alliances forming around him. The presence of Lord Hobart Hightower signifies a crucial link to Oldtown, a center of knowledge and power. Jaehaerys knows that forging a strong relationship with the Hightowers could be pivotal in the political landscape ahead, but he remains cautious, ever watchful of the schemes that could be brewing behind the scenes.

As the bustling courtyard of the Red Keep continues to fill with the lords of the Seven Kingdoms, Jaehaerys’ eyes catch sight of a familiar banner: the twin grapes on a blue field, the sigil of House Redwyne of the Arbor. A surge of excitement wells up within him as he eagerly anticipates the arrival of his childhood friend, Garth Redwyne, heir to House Redwyne and nephew to Ser Ryam. The two had shared many adventures and trials together, having both squired under Ser Ryam in their youth.

The procession of House Redwyne enters the gates, and Jaehaerys steps forward, his gaze scanning the group until he spots Garth. Dismounting from his horse, Garth is instantly recognizable, his tall frame, ref hair and easy smile bringing a wave of nostalgia. As soon as he catches sight of Jaehaerys, his face lights up with a broad grin.

“Jaehaerys!” Garth calls out, striding forward with open arms.

“Garth!” Jaehaerys responds, matching his friend’s enthusiasm as they embrace, their camaraderie evident to all who witness the reunion.

“It’s been too long, my friend,” Garth says, clapping Jaehaerys on the back. “The Arbor has felt empty without your mischief.”

Jaehaerys laughs, the sound carrying a mix of joy and relief. “And King’s Landing has been far too serious without your antics to liven it up.”

They step back, studying each other for a moment. Despite the time that had passed, the bond between them remains strong. Jaehaerys gestures for Garth to join him as they walk towards the central courtyard.

“How fares the Arbor?” Jaehaerys inquires, genuinely curious about his friend’s homeland.

Garth’s smile softens with pride. “Prosperous as ever. The vineyards are in full bloom, and the wine flows freely. But enough of that – tell me about your adventures in Essos. I’ve heard tales that put our childhood exploits to shame.”

Jaehaerys chuckles, shaking his head. “Essos was a different world, Garth. But we’ll have plenty of time to share stories. For now, there are many here who wish to meet you.”

As they approach the assembled group, Jaehaerys turns to formally introduce Garth to his companions. “Everyone, may I present Garth Redwyne, heir to House Redwyne of the Arbor, and my dearest friend.”

Vaelar steps forward with a grin. “The pleasure is mine, Garth. I’ve heard many tales of your escapades with our prince here.”

Melony, always curious, looks up at Garth with wide eyes. “Did you and Harry really get into a lot of trouble together?”

Garth laughs, ruffling Melony’s hair. “More than I care to admit, little one. But those are stories for another time.”

Rhaenyra steps forward next, her presence commanding attention. “Welcome to King’s Landing, Lord Redwyne. Jaehaerys has spoken highly of you.”

Garth bows slightly. “Princess Rhaenyra, the honor is mine. I look forward to serving the realm alongside such esteemed company.”

With the introductions complete, Jaehaerys and Garth find a moment to themselves. “I can’t tell you how good it is to have you here, Garth,” Jaehaerys says, his tone sincere.

Garth’s expression mirrors his sentiment. “And I, you. Together, we’ll face whatever comes our way.”

As the day progresses, Jaehaerys feels a renewed sense of purpose and strength. Surrounded by friends, old and new, he knows that the bonds they share will be crucial in the days ahead. The arrival of the lords is not just a show of allegiance – it is the beginning of a new chapter, one where unity and loyalty will be tested, but ultimately forged into an unbreakable force for the future of the realm.

—

The atmosphere in Jaehaerys' chambers was charged with anticipation. Lord Corlys, Vaelar, and Garth moved with purpose, arranging maps and documents detailing the strategic importance of the Stepstones. Jaehaerys, deep in thought, stood by the window, his gaze fixed on the sprawling city below. 

Lord Corlys adjusted a map of the Narrow Sea, speaking with his usual authority. "The Triarchy's control over the Stepstones is more than a disruption; it’s a direct threat to our trade and security. We need to present a unified strategy."

Vaelar, leaning casually against the wall, added, "And we need to make it clear that this alliance benefits all involved. It's not just about power; it's about ensuring prosperity and stability."

Garth, adjusting his doublet, nodded in agreement. "My father values strategic alliances that benefit the Arbor. If we can present a solid plan, he will be on board."

Jaehaerys turned from the window, his expression resolute. "We need to emphasize the broader threat the Triarchy poses to the realm. Their ambitions won't stop at the Stepstones if we don't act."

A knock on the door signaled the arrival of their guests. The steward announced them, and Lord Desmond Manderly entered first, his son Torrhen by his side. Lord Lymand Mallister followed, accompanied by his son Rymun. Lastly, Lord Robert Redwyne entered, his keen gaze assessing the room. Garth gave his father a respectful nod.

Jaehaerys stepped forward, offering a warm yet formal greeting. "Welcome, my lords. It is an honor to have you here."

Lord Desmond nodded, his eyes scrutinizing the room. "Prince Jaehaerys, we are eager to hear what you have to propose."

Jaehaerys gestured for them to sit around the large oak table. "Please, make yourselves comfortable. We have much to discuss, and your counsel is invaluable."

Once everyone was seated, Lord Corlys began the presentation, outlining the threat posed by the Triarchy and the strategic importance of the Stepstones. Jaehaerys spoke next, detailing his vision for a united front to reclaim the Stepstones, along with Myr, Lys and Tyrosh, and secure the trade routes, emphasizing the benefits for each of their houses.

"The Triarchy’s control over the Stepstones disrupts our trade and threatens our security," Jaehaerys said. "Their ambitions extend beyond the Stepstones, and if we do not act, they will continue to expand their influence."

Lord Robert Redwyne listened intently, his fingers steepled under his chin. "And what of the risks? These are not endeavors to be taken lightly."

Vaelar interjected confidently. "The risks are significant, yes. But with careful planning and our combined strength, we can mitigate them. Success will bring unprecedented prosperity and security."

Torrhen Manderly leaned forward, determination in his young face. "My father and I are prepared to support this cause. The North values strength and honor. Show us a clear path, and we will stand with you."

Lord Lymand Mallister and his son exchanged glances before the elder lord spoke. "The Riverlands have seen too much conflict. We desire stability and peace. If your plan can promise that, you have our swords."

Lord Robert, Garth’s father, finally spoke, his voice carrying the weight of his years. "Jaehaerys, I have known you since you were a boy. I trust in your judgment and your commitment to this realm. The Arbor will support you."

Jaehaerys felt a surge of relief and gratitude. "Thank you, my lords. Together, we can achieve greatness for the realm and ensure a future of peace and prosperity."

The meeting continued with the lords discussing logistics and strategies. As the session drew to a close, Jaehaerys stood and raised a cup of wine. "To our alliance, and to the future of Westeros. May our combined efforts bring forth a new era of unity and strength."

The lords raised their cups in agreement, the room filled with a sense of purpose and camaraderie. This was the beginning of a powerful alliance, one that would shape the destiny of the realm.

—

As the flickering candlelight cast a warm glow over the richly adorned table in the king's chambers, where Viserys, Rhaenyra, and Jaehaerys were seated for dinner, Jaehaerys decided to broach the subject on his mind.

"Your Grace," Jaehaerys began, addressing his brother with a respectful nod, "there's something I wish to discuss with you both."

Viserys looked up from his plate, curiosity piqued. "Of course, Jaehaerys. What is on your mind?"

Jaehaerys turned to Rhaenyra, his expression earnest. "I've been thinking about how beneficial it could be for Rhaenyra to learn the art of Water Dancing, the Braavosi style of swordsmanship. Vaelar is an excellent teacher and has already started training young Mel. I believe Rhaenyra could greatly benefit from these lessons as well."

Rhaenyra's eyes widened in interest, her fork pausing midway to her mouth. "Water Dancing? I've heard tales of its elegance and effectiveness. It's said to be more about finesse than brute strength."

Viserys's expression shifted, a hint of hesitation crossing his features. "Jaehaerys, you know that sword fighting is considered unladylike. Rhaenyra's place is to learn the skills of a lady, not a warrior."

Jaehaerys nodded, understanding his brother's concern. "I understand, Your Grace. But times are changing. The realm is facing threats from all sides, and Rhaenyra is more than just a lady. She is a Targaryen, with the strength and spirit of our ancestors. Learning to defend herself and others is not just about fighting; it's about empowerment and being prepared for any eventuality."

Rhaenyra looked at her father, her eyes pleading. "Father, I want to be prepared. I want to learn and grow in every way possible. If Water Dancing can help me do that, shouldn't we at least consider it?"

Viserys sighed, clearly torn between tradition and his daughter's desires. "It is not that I doubt your abilities, Rhaenyra. I just worry about what people will say. The court can be cruel, and I want to protect you from that."

Jaehaerys leaned forward, his voice soft but firm. "Your Grace, Rhaenyra's strength and determination will speak louder than any gossip. The people will see her as a capable and strong leader, one who can protect her realm in times of need."

Viserys took a deep breath, weighing the arguments. "Very well," he said finally, his tone resigned. "If you believe this is truly beneficial, then I will not stand in the way. But promise me, Jaehaerys, that you and Vaelar will ensure Rhaenyra's training is both rigorous and safe."

Jaehaerys nodded confidently. "Of course, Your Grace. Vaelar is a seasoned warrior and a careful instructor. Rhaenyra and Mel will be in good hands."

Rhaenyra beamed at Jaehaerys. "Thank you, Jaehaerys. I can't wait to start. And it will be even more fun to train alongside Mel."

Viserys smiled at his daughter, though a hint of concern remained in his eyes. "Remember, Rhaenyra, this is not just about learning to fight. It's about understanding the responsibility that comes with it."

As the conversation continued over dinner, Jaehaerys felt compelled to further advocate for Rhaenyra's protection and the empowerment of women in the realm. 

"Your Grace," Jaehaerys addressed Viserys with a determined tone, "I believe it's time we consider establishing a group of female warriors to serve as protectors for Rhaenyra and other women of the royal family, much like the Kingsguard does for the king. These women would accompany Rhaenyra wherever she goes, ensuring her safety and acting as her sworn guardians."

Viserys listened intently, considering Jaehaerys's proposal. "A group of female warriors?" he echoed, brows furrowed in thought. "It's an unconventional idea, to be sure. But I see the merit in it, especially given past events."

Jaehaerys nodded, seizing the opportunity to bolster his argument. "Exactly, Your Grace. We've seen how vulnerable our queens and princesses can be, even in places where men are not allowed. Take the attack on Queen Alysanne at Maidenpool for example. If she had been accompanied by a group of skilled female warriors, perhaps the outcome would have been different, and Queen Alyssane would not have lost her child,"

Viserys's expression softened, acknowledging the validity of Jaehaerys's point. "You make a compelling argument, Jaehaerys. But finding such women, skilled in combat and dedicated to their duty, may prove challenging."

Jaehaerys leaned forward, his conviction unwavering. "I understand the challenge, Your Grace. But I believe there are women in the realm who possess the necessary skills and dedication, particularly in the North who have a long-standing tradition of Shieldmaidens. We can train them, just as we train the Kingsguard. And in honor of Jonquil Darke, known as 'the Scarlet Shadow' for her unwavering loyalty to Good Queen Alyssane, these women can be known as the Scarlet Shadows."

Viserys considered Jaehaerys's proposal carefully, weighing the risks and benefits. "Very well," he said finally, his tone resolute. "If you can find suitable candidates and ensure their training is rigorous, then we shall proceed with establishing the Scarlet Shadows. But remember, Jaehaerys, this is a significant responsibility. These women must be skilled, disciplined, and above all, loyal to the crown."

Jaehaerys nodded, a sense of determination filling him. "Thank you, Your Grace. I will ensure that the Scarlet Shadows are worthy of their duty and honor."

With Viserys's reluctant approval, Jaehaerys knew that the path ahead would not be easy. But he was committed to empowering women in the realm and ensuring the safety of his future queen, Rhaenyra. And with the Scarlet Shadows by her side, he was confident that she would be well protected, no matter what challenges lay ahead.

Chapter Text

The Throne Room buzzed with anticipation, filled with lords and ladies from across the realm who had gathered to swear their oaths of fealty to Jaehaerys. Banners of various houses adorned the walls, creating a vibrant tapestry of colors and heraldry. The chamber was alive with the murmur of voices, which hushed as King Viserys raised his hand for silence.

At the far end of the hall, Jaehaerys stood beside the Iron Throne, flanked by King Viserys and Rhaenyra. The Iron Throne, an imposing mass of swords and steel, loomed behind them, a stark reminder of the power it represented. Viserys, dressed in royal finery, exuded authority and composure. Beside him, Rhaenyra radiated confidence and grace, her gown of Targaryen red and black shimmering in the torchlight.

"Lords and ladies of the realm," Viserys began, his voice carrying across the hall. "We gather here today to reaffirm our commitment to the future of Westeros. My youngest brother, Prince Jaehaerys, stands ready to take his place as the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. Let us now hear your oaths of fealty."

First to step forward was Lord Rickon Stark of Winterfell, his presence commanding and stoic. "I, Rickon Stark, Lord of Winterfell, swear my fealty to Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen, rightful heir to the Iron Throne. The North remembers, and the North stands with you."

Jaehaerys placed a hand on Rickon's shoulder, his expression one of solemn gratitude. "Your loyalty honors me, Lord Stark."

Next came Lord Grover Tully, his posture proud and determined. "I, Grover Tully, Lord of Riverrun, pledge my house's loyalty to Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen. House Tully will always support the realm."

Jaehaerys nodded, his eyes meeting Grover's. "Your support is invaluable, Lord Tully."

Lord Jason Lannister of Casterly Rock approached, his demeanor regal and confident. "I, Jason Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, swear my allegiance to Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen. The might of the Westerlands is at your command."

Jaehaerys smiled warmly. "Your strength and loyalty are greatly appreciated, Lord Lannister."

Lord Lyonel Tyrell of Highgarden, a tall and imposing figure, stepped forward. "I, Lyonel Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden, pledge my house's loyalty to Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen. The Reach will always support the crown."

Jaehaerys acknowledged him with a nod. "Your oath strengthens the realm, Lord Tyrell."

Lord Boremund Baratheon of Storm's End, his voice booming, declared his loyalty next. "I, Boremund Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End, swear my fealty to Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen. Storm's End stands with the crown."

Jaehaerys met his gaze, his gratitude evident. "Your unwavering support is a pillar of strength, Lord Baratheon."

Finally, Lord Dalton Greyjoy of the Iron Islands, a fierce and determined man, stepped forward. "I, Dalton Greyjoy, Lord of the Iron Islands, pledge my loyalty to Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen. The Ironborn will honor this oath."

Jaehaerys placed a hand on Dalton’s shoulder. "Your loyalty is a testament to our unity, Lord Greyjoy."

Following the major lords, other prominent houses stepped forward. Lord Desmond Manderly of White Harbor, a large man with a warm demeanor, approached. "I, Desmond Manderly, Lord of White Harbor, swear my loyalty to Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen. The strength of the Manderlys is yours."

Jaehaerys smiled appreciatively. "Your loyalty and strength are greatly valued, Lord Manderly."

Next was Lord Robert Redwyne of the Arbor, his presence exuding maritime authority. "I, Robert Redwyne, Lord of the Arbor, pledge my house's loyalty to Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen. The fleet of the Arbor is at your command."

Jaehaerys nodded, his gratitude evident. "Your fleet and your loyalty are invaluable, Lord Redwyne."

Lord Lymond Mallister of Seagard, a stern but fair man, approached. "I, Lymond Mallister, Lord of Seagard, swear my fealty to Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen. House Mallister stands with the crown."

Jaehaerys acknowledged him with a nod. "Your support and dedication are deeply appreciated, Lord Mallister."

Lord Hobart Hightower of Oldtown, a man of distinguished bearing and commanding presence, stepped forward to pledge his fealty next. "I, Hobart Hightower, Lord of Oldtown, swear my loyalty and allegiance to Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen, rightful heir to the Iron Throne. House Hightower stands with you."

Jaehaerys nodded with gratitude. "Your support is a testament to the unity of the realm, Lord Hightower."

As the lords of the realm stepped back, the members of the Small Council approached, ready to pledge their loyalty. Each member stood in turn, their oaths carrying the weight of their influence and authority.

Ser Otto Hightower, Hand of the King, was the first to speak. "I, Ser Otto Hightower, Hand of the King, swear my loyalty and service to Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen, rightful heir to the Iron Throne. May his reign be long and prosperous."

Jaehaerys nodded. "Your counsel and wisdom are invaluable, Ser Otto."

Next was Lord Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake, Master of Ships. "I, Lord Corlys Velaryon, pledge my loyalty and the strength of House Velaryon to Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen. The seas and ships of Westeros are at your service."

Jaehaerys smiled. "Your support is a cornerstone of our strength, Lord Corlys."

Lord Lyonel Strong, Master of Laws, stepped forward. "I, Lord Lyonel Strong, swear my fealty to Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen. The laws of the realm will be upheld in your name."

Jaehaerys nodded. "Your dedication to justice is deeply appreciated, Lord Lyonel."

Lord Lyman Beesbury, Master of Coin, stepped forward.  "I, Lord Lyman Beesbury, swear my fealty to Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen. May your rule be a prosperous one..”

Jaehaerys acknowledged Lord Beesbury's oath with a solemn nod, “Your steadfast loyalty is noted and deeply appreciated, Lord Lyman.”

Grand Maester Mellos, with his chain of office glinting in the light, spoke next. "I, Grand Maester Mellos, pledge my wisdom and knowledge to the service of Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen. May the realm prosper under your guidance."

Jaehaerys acknowledged him. "Your counsel will guide us wisely, Grand Maester."

Finally, Ser Harrold Westerling, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, stepped forward. "I, Ser Harrold Westerling, swear my sword and my life to the protection and service of Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen. The Kingsguard stands ready to defend you."

Jaehaerys met his gaze with respect. "Your loyalty and honor are beyond measure, Ser Harrold."

With the oaths sworn, King Viserys spoke again, his voice resonating through the hall. "Let it be known that these oaths are binding, and that any betrayal will be met with the full force of the realm."

As these words echoed through the Great Hall, Jaehaerys stepped forward, his voice carrying authority and gravitas as he addressed the assembled lords and ladies of Westeros. "My lords and ladies," he began, his tone commanding attention, "I thank you for your unwavering loyalty and support. As the heir to the Iron Throne, it is my duty to uphold the traditions and values of our realm, and to ensure the prosperity and well-being of all its people."

Pausing briefly, Jaehaerys's gaze swept across the room, meeting the eyes of each lord and lady in turn. "Tomorrow," he continued, "we shall convene once more to make important decisions regarding the future of our realm. Among the matters to be discussed are certain tax reforms that require our careful consideration." 

A subtle hint laced his words, alluding to the controversial tax law passed during the final days of King Jaehaerys's reign. "I trust that together, we will find solutions that serve the best interests of the realm and its people," he concluded, his tone firm and resolute.

The hall echoed with applause, the sound of loyalty and unity resonating through the chamber. Rhaenyra, standing proudly beside Jaehaerys, felt a swell of pride for her betrothed. As the last oath was sworn, she took Jaehaerys’ hand, her eyes shining with confidence and support.

"You have their loyalty, Jaehaerys. Together, we will lead Westeros into a new era," she whispered.

Jaehaerys squeezed her hand gently. "With you by my side, there’s nothing we can’t achieve."

As the hall began to empty, the mood shifted from solemnity to celebration. Lords and ladies mingled, discussing the future of the realm and the challenges ahead. The atmosphere was lighter, filled with a sense of hope and determination.

—

As the evening feast unfolded in the Great Hall, the atmosphere buzzed with the energy of celebration. Tables groaned under the weight of sumptuous dishes, and goblets brimmed with wine and ale. The hall reverberated with the sounds of merriment—laughter, music, and the clinking of glasses.

Amidst the revelry, Jaehaerys and Rhaenyra found a moment of quiet intimacy in a secluded corner. Their hands entwined, they shared a rare moment of tranquility amidst the festive chaos. Rhaenyra's smile, soft and reassuring, reverberates in the gentle hum of the hall, carrying the weight of unwavering support and devotion.

Jaehaerys returned her smile, his gaze lingering on her with a mixture of admiration and affection. In that fleeting exchange, they found solace in each other's presence, a silent acknowledgment of the unbreakable bond that tethered them together.

As the evening wore on, the feast continued unabated, forging new connections and strengthening old alliances. Each toast raised in honor of Jaehaerys and Rhaenyra echoed the resounding chorus of loyalty and allegiance that bound the realm together.

Amidst the revelry, the future of Westeros seemed to shimmer with promise. Though challenges loomed on the horizon, Jaehaerys and Rhaenyra faced them with unwavering resolve, fortified by the unwavering support of their allies and the enduring strength of their bond. Together, they stood as beacons of hope, ready to navigate the uncertain path that lay ahead, united in purpose and determination.

—

The next day, Rhaenyra enters Jaehaerys' chambers to find him and Vaelar engrossed in discussion, poring over a list of names spread out before them. The atmosphere is one of intense focus, punctuated by the occasional exchange of murmured words and thoughtful nods.

Curious, Rhaenyra approaches quietly, her gaze flickering between the two men as she takes in the scene before her. There's an air of purposeful determination about them, as if they're deliberating over matters of great importance.

"Good morning," Rhaenyra greets them, her voice breaking the concentration in the room. "What are you two up to?" she inquires, her curiosity piqued by their serious demeanor.

Jaehaerys gestures towards the list of names spread out before them, a glimmer of anticipation in his eyes as he turns to Rhaenyra. "We've been compiling a list of prospective members for the 'Scarlet Shadows'," he explains, a note of excitement in his voice.

As Rhaenyra approaches, Jaehaerys motions for her to take a closer look at the parchment. "We spoke to some of the Lords and gathered suggestions," he continues, his tone thoughtful. "These are the names we've come up with so far.”

Rhaenyra's eyes light up with interest as she scans the list of names, her expression a mixture of curiosity and determination. "These are impressive choices," she remarks, her voice filled with enthusiasm. "It's heartening to see such strong candidates willing to serve alongside us."

With a thoughtful nod, she turns back to Jaehaerys, a spark of determination in her gaze. "Let's review each one carefully and ensure we select those who embody the ideals of the Scarlet Shadows," she suggests, her tone resolute. "We want individuals who are not only skilled warriors but also demonstrate unwavering loyalty and dedication to our cause.”

Jaehaerys and Rhaenyra begin their review with the candidates from the North, recognizing the importance of selecting individuals who embody the resilience and honor characteristic of the northern houses. They carefully assess each name on the list, considering not only their martial prowess but also their loyalty and integrity.

As they discuss each candidate, they draw upon their knowledge of the north and its people, weighing the strengths and potential contributions of each individual. They pay particular attention to those who have proven themselves in battle, as well as those who have demonstrated leadership qualities and a commitment to their house and the realm.

After much deliberation, they narrow down the list to a select few, confident that they have chosen individuals who will uphold the values of the Scarlet Shadows and serve as steadfast protectors of the royal family. With the candidates from the North chosen, they move on to the next region, ready to continue their careful selection process.

After reviewing the candidates from the Vale, Jaehaerys and Rhaenyra discuss their observations and note the promising qualities displayed by the individuals. They emphasize the importance of selecting members who not only excel in combat but also demonstrate unwavering loyalty to their houses and the crown. With the candidates from the Vale assessed, they prepare to move on to the candidates from the Riverlands, eager to identify potential recruits who embody the ideals of the Scarlet Shadows.

Jaehaerys and Rhaenyra meticulously go through the list of candidates from the Riverlands, carefully considering each individual's background, skills, and reputation. As they discuss their findings, they prioritize candidates who possess a strong sense of duty and honor, traits essential for serving as protectors of the royal family. With each name evaluated, they feel a growing sense of confidence in the assembly of the Scarlet Shadows, knowing that they are selecting individuals who will uphold the highest standards of loyalty and bravery.

Jaehaerys and Rhaenyra carefully review the candidates from the Westerlands, Stormlands, the Reach, Crownlands, and the Iron Islands. Despite the smaller number of names put forward by these regions, they remain diligent in their assessment, considering each candidate's qualifications and potential contributions to the Scarlet Shadows. Aware of the importance of diversity and representation, they aim to select individuals from diverse backgrounds and regions, ensuring that the Scarlet Shadows reflect the full breadth of Westerosi society. As they deliberate, they remain mindful of the significance of their choices, knowing that the individuals they select will play a crucial role in safeguarding the future of the realm.

As they compile a final list of candidates to be invited to the capital for assessment, Rhaenyra suggests that Daemon and his wife Rhea Royce be part of the committee to assess the candidates. Both known for their prowess with the sword, Daemon and Rhea would bring invaluable expertise and perspective to the selection process. Their inclusion would ensure a thorough and fair evaluation of each candidate's martial abilities and suitability for the role of Scarlet Shadow.

"Rhaenyra, that's a brilliant suggestion," Jaehaerys responds, nodding in agreement. "Daemon and Rhea would indeed bring invaluable insight to the assessment process. Their experience and expertise will ensure that only the most capable candidates are chosen to serve as Scarlet Shadows.”

"We should bring the proposal to Viserys first.” Jaehaerys states, “While I value Daemon's expertise, we need to ensure that his presence won't cause any unnecessary tension within the Small Council, especially considering Otto's influence.”

Rhaenyra nods in agreement. "Father should be receptive to the idea, especially considering the importance of this matter. We'll present it to him tactfully, ensuring that he understands the necessity of Daemon's involvement.”

Vaelar, who had been listening intently, offers his own suggestions. "Perhaps we should also consider including some skilled archers among the Scarlet Shadows. Their expertise could complement the swordsmanship of the knights, providing a well-rounded defense for Her Grace and other members of the royal family.”

Jaehaerys nods in agreement. "You make a valid point, Vaelar. Indeed, some of the candidates we've identified do possess experience in archery. We should definitely consider their inclusion in the Scarlet Shadows.”

"Who else do you think would be suitable for training the Scarlet Shadows, apart from Vaelar?" Rhaenyra asked, her gaze shifting between Jaehaerys and Vaelar.

Jaehaerys considers for a moment before responding, "Perhaps Ser Harrold, he has a keen eye for detail and a strong sense of discipline. Additionally, Lady Myrcella Penrose is known for her skill with a bow and could provide valuable training in archery.”

Vaelar nods in agreement, adding, "And Ser Steffon has a steady hand and years of combat experience. He could offer invaluable insight into swordsmanship and tactics.”

Jaehaerys considers Vaelar's suggestion before nodding in agreement. "Yes, Ser Steffon's expertise will be invaluable in training the Scarlet Shadows. We'll speak to him about it after we finalize the list of candidates.”

Rhaenyra nods in agreement, her gaze shifting between Jaehaerys and Vaelar. "Ser Steffon's experience will certainly be an asset in shaping the Scarlet Shadows into formidable protectors," she adds, her tone reflecting her confidence in the decision.

With the discussion reaching a consensus, Jaehaerys and Rhaenyra exchange a knowing glance, reassured by the progress made in their plans. As they finalize the details, a sense of anticipation fills the room, a prelude to the dawn of a new era in the realm. With their combined efforts and the support of trusted allies like Vaelar, they are poised to embark on a journey that will shape the future of Westeros. With renewed determination, they prepare to face the challenges ahead, united in their resolve to safeguard the realm and usher in an era of prosperity and peace.

—

The Lords are gathered once again in the Throne Room, their faces a mixture of anticipation and curiosity as they await the proceedings of the meeting. Banners from the various houses hang proudly from the walls, casting a colorful array of sigils across the room. At the head of the chamber, Jaehaerys stands beside the Iron Throne, flanked by King Viserys and Rhaenyra, a symbol of unity and authority.

"My lords and ladies," Jaehaerys begins, his voice echoing through the Throne Room with authority, "we stand at a pivotal moment in the history of the Seven Kingdoms. The decisions we make today will have far-reaching implications for the future of our realm. It is imperative that we approach these matters with wisdom, foresight, and unity."

"As you are aware," he continues, his gaze sweeping across the assembled lords, "the issue at hand concerns the tax law passed during the final days of my grandfather's reign. While the intentions behind this law may have been noble, its implementation has led to unintended consequences that threaten the stability of our kingdom."

"We must therefore consider carefully the adjustments that need to be made to ensure that our tax system is fair, equitable, and conducive to the prosperity of all our people. This will require cooperation and compromise from all parties involved, but I have every confidence that together we can find solutions that serve the best interests of the realm."

"In addition," Jaehaerys declares, his tone resolute, "we must address the pressing need to bolster our defenses in the face of external threats. The recent unrest in the Stepstones and the increasing aggression of the Triarchy serve as stark reminders of the dangers that lurk beyond our borders. We cannot afford to be complacent. We must act decisively to fortify our borders, strengthen our military forces, and ensure the security of our realm."

"But perhaps most importantly," Jaehaerys concludes, his voice tinged with solemnity, "we must stand united as one kingdom, one people, in the face of adversity. The challenges before us may be daunting, but I have every confidence that together we can overcome them. Let us work together, my lords and ladies, to secure the future of the Seven Kingdoms for generations to come.”

As the Lords begin deliberating, the atmosphere is fraught with tension. In the midst of the heated debates, Lord Stark stands tall, his voice resounding through the chamber. "My lords," he begins, his tone measured yet firm, "we must not lose sight of the greater good. While we may have differing opinions and priorities, we all share a common goal: the prosperity and stability of the realm."

Lord Tully nods in agreement, his expression grave. "Indeed, Lord Stark is correct. We cannot afford to let petty disagreements and personal agendas undermine the welfare of our people. We must find common ground, forge alliances, and work together for the greater good."

"But what of our own interests?" Lord Lannister interjects, his voice tinged with concern. "We cannot ignore the needs of our own lands and people in our pursuit of unity. There must be a balance."

Lord Tyrell, ever the diplomat, steps forward. "A balance indeed, my lords," he says, his tone conciliatory. "But let us remember that a kingdom divided against itself cannot stand. We must be willing to make sacrifices for the greater good, to set aside our differences and work towards a common purpose."

As the debate rages on, compromises are reached, alliances are forged, and resolutions are made. Despite the discord and tension, there is a palpable sense of camaraderie and determination among the lords, a shared commitment to the prosperity and stability of the realm that transcends individual interests and ambitions. In the end, they stand united, ready to face whatever challenges may come their way, for the sake of the Seven Kingdoms and all who call it home.

Jaehaerys stands once again before the assembled lords, his voice ringing out with sincerity and gratitude. "My lords," he begins, his gaze sweeping over the gathered faces, "I thank you all for your participation in this important meeting. Your wisdom, insight, and dedication to the welfare of the realm are truly commendable."

"I want to reaffirm my unwavering commitment to serving the Seven Kingdoms as its future ruler," Jaehaerys continues, his tone resolute. "I am humbled by the trust and confidence you have placed in me, and I promise to do everything in my power to uphold the honor and integrity of the Iron Throne."

"As we face the challenges and opportunities that lie ahead, let us remember that we are stronger together than we are apart," Jaehaerys concludes, his voice filled with conviction. "Let us continue to work hand in hand, united in our purpose and determination to build a better future for our realm and all who call it home."

With these words, the meeting draws to a close, and the gathered lords depart, their minds filled with thoughts of the challenges and opportunities that lie ahead. As they return to their respective domains, they carry with them a renewed sense of purpose and determination, inspired by the vision and leadership of their future king.

—

During dinner in the King's Chambers, Jaehaerys and Rhaenyra broach the topic of inviting Daemon and Rhea to assist in selecting candidates for the Scarlet Shadows with Viserys.

"Father," Rhaenyra begins, "we were discussing the formation of the Scarlet Shadows, and we believe that Daemon and Rhea's expertise in combat could be invaluable in assessing the candidates."

Viserys listens attentively, nodding thoughtfully as he considers their proposal. "Daemon is indeed a skilled swordsman," he acknowledges, "and Rhea's prowess is well-known. Their insight could prove beneficial in identifying candidates who possess the necessary skills and qualities."

“However,” Viserys hesitates, “I have to express my concern about the tensions between Daemon and Otto.”

"Brother," Jaehaerys begins, "I understand your reservations, but Daemon's expertise in combat could be invaluable in assessing the candidates. And Rhea's presence would certainly add to the depth of our evaluations."

Rhaenyra adds her support, emphasizing the importance of considering all available resources in choosing the members of the Scarlet Shadows. "We need the best possible candidates to protect the future queen," she says earnestly.

Viserys considers their arguments carefully, his brow furrowed in thought. "I understand your reasoning," he acknowledges, "but I worry about the implications of involving Daemon in such matters, given his history with Otto."

After some more convincing from Jaehaerys and Rhaenyra, Viserys finally agrees to the idea of inviting Daemon and Rhea to assist in selecting candidates for the Scarlet Shadows.

"Very well," Viserys concedes, his tone thoughtful. "If you both believe it to be the best course of action, then I will trust your judgment. But tread carefully, my children. The tensions between Daemon and Otto are delicate, and we must proceed with caution."

Jaehaerys and Rhaenyra exchange a relieved smile, grateful for Viserys's understanding. "Thank you, Brother," Jaehaerys says earnestly. "We will ensure that this decision is handled with the utmost care."

With Viserys's approval secured, the mood in the King's Chambers lightens, and the conversation shifts to more relaxed topics. As they continue their meal, Jaehaerys and Rhaenyra silently vow to approach the task ahead with sensitivity and diplomacy, mindful of the potential consequences of their actions.

Chapter Text

The lords were gathered in the throne room for the third day, their expressions grave and their voices hushed as they awaited the day's proceedings. This time, the issue at hand was of dire importance: the presence of the Triarchy in the Stepstones and the significant losses faced by the collective fleets of Houses Velaryon, Manderly, Mallister, and Redwyne. 

At the far end of the hall, King Viserys sat on the Iron Throne, flanked by Prince Jaehaerys and Princess Rhaenyra. The tension in the room was palpable as the representatives from the coalition of lords stepped forward to address the assembly.

Lord Corlys Velaryon, known as the Sea Snake, was the first to speak. His voice was firm, carrying the weight of his experiences and the urgency of their cause. "Your Grace, my lords, we come before you today to discuss a matter of utmost importance—the Triarchy's stranglehold on the Stepstones and the grave impact it has had on our fleets and trade routes. The losses we have suffered are not just numbers on a ledger; they are the livelihoods of our people and the stability of our realm."

Lord Desmond Manderly, with his son Torrhen by his side, nodded in agreement. "House Manderly has always been loyal to the Crown, and we have faced many challenges over the years. But the Triarchy's aggression threatens our very existence. Our fleets have been decimated, our trade routes disrupted, and our people live in fear of the next attack."

Lord Lymond Mallister stepped forward next, his stern gaze sweeping the room. "We cannot stand idly by while the Triarchy continues to grow stronger. The Stepstones are a crucial point for trade and travel, and their control over it gives them an unacceptable advantage. Our fleets, our people, and our lands are suffering."

Lord Robert Redwyne, accompanied by his son Garth, added his voice to the chorus. "The Arbor has been hit hard by these incursions. Our wine trade, a vital part of our economy, is at risk. We need a unified response, a show of strength to reclaim the Stepstones and restore order to the Narrow Sea."

Jaehaerys stepped forward, addressing the gathered lords with a voice that resonated with authority and determination. "My lords, I understand your concerns and share your frustrations. The Triarchy's presence in the Stepstones is a blight upon our realm, and their attacks on our fleets cannot be tolerated. We must present a united front, combining our resources and strategies to drive them out and secure our waters once more."

The room buzzed with murmurs of agreement and nods of approval. Jaehaerys continued, "Tomorrow, we shall convene a council of war to discuss our plans in detail. We will pool our intelligence, devise our strategies, and prepare our fleets for the task ahead. Together, we will reclaim the Stepstones and ensure that the Narrow Sea is safe for our people and our trade.”

King Viserys, who had been assured by his Hand, Otto Hightower, multiple times that the issue with the Triarchy was minuscule and not worth significant attention, looked visibly perplexed as he listened to the lords' accounts. The severity of the situation, described with such urgency and detail, starkly contrasted Otto’s previous reassurances. As the lords and Jaehaerys finished their statements and the room's attention shifted, Viserys turned to his Hand, his expression a mix of confusion and concern.

"Otto," Viserys called, his voice low but firm, "I have been led to believe that the Triarchy's presence in the Stepstones was a minor nuisance. Yet, here I stand, hearing that our fleets are being decimated, our trade routes disrupted, and our people living in fear. How do you explain this discrepancy?"

Otto Hightower, ever composed, stepped forward to address the king. "Your Grace, I understand your concern. The information we had at the time suggested that the Triarchy's activities were limited and manageable. However, it appears their aggression has escalated more rapidly than our initial intelligence indicated."

Viserys narrowed his eyes slightly, not entirely satisfied with the explanation. "These lords speak of significant losses and severe impacts on their lands and economies. How could such developments go unnoticed or unreported until now?"

Otto inclined his head in a gesture of respect. "Your Grace, it is possible that the true extent of the Triarchy's operations and their impact were underestimated by our sources. We may have received incomplete or delayed reports. I will ensure that our intelligence network is thoroughly reviewed and reinforced to prevent such oversights in the future."

The king leaned back on the Iron Throne, the weight of the crown feeling heavier with the realization of this oversight. "See that it is done, Otto. We cannot afford to be blindsided by such threats. Ensure that our council of war has all the information it needs to formulate a decisive and effective response."

Otto bowed, his face a mask of calm determination. "As you command, Your Grace. We will gather the necessary intelligence and support the coalition in reclaiming the Stepstones."

Viserys nodded, his gaze shifting to Jaehaerys, who had spoken with such conviction and leadership. "Very well. Let us proceed with the preparations. The safety and stability of our realm depend on our swift and unified action."

The lords, now departing with renewed purpose, left the throne room abuzz with the promise of forthcoming action. As they left, Viserys couldn't help but feel a flicker of doubt about his Hand’s reassurances, resolved to remain more vigilant in the future. The realm’s fate hung in the balance, and it was clear that they needed every advantage to prevail against the Triarchy.

—

In the dimly lit confines of the king’s chambers, King Viserys sat at a large wooden table, papers and maps spread before him. The flickering light of the candles cast long shadows on the walls, adding to the room’s somber atmosphere. A knock at the door announced the arrival of Prince Jaehaerys, Viserys' younger brother and heir. 

“Come in,” Viserys called, his voice weary but resolute.

Jaehaerys entered, his expression one of determination tempered by concern. “You wished to speak with me, brother?”

Viserys nodded, motioning for Jaehaerys to take a seat across from him. “Yes, Jaehaerys. The accounts from the lords today were... troubling. I wanted to discuss the matter of the Triarchy with you in more detail.”

Jaehaerys settled into the chair, leaning forward slightly. “I share your concerns, Viserys. The Triarchy’s aggression is a serious threat to our realm. Their control over the Stepstones gives them a strategic advantage that we cannot ignore.”

Viserys sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Otto has assured me repeatedly that the Triarchy’s presence was a minor issue. Yet, what we heard today speaks to a much graver situation. I fear I have been misled or, at the very least, ill-informed.”

Jaehaerys paused, his expression serious. “Brother, may I speak freely?”

Viserys looked at him, curiosity and a hint of worry in his eyes. “Of course, Jaehaerys. Speak your mind.”

Jaehaerys leaned forward, his voice low but firm. “I believe Otto has been underestimating, or perhaps downplaying, the threat of the Triarchy. Whether out of a desire to maintain a semblance of peace or due to flawed intelligence, his assurances have led us to a dangerous position. We cannot afford to base our actions on incomplete or inaccurate information.”

Viserys nodded slowly, absorbing his brother’s words. “You think Otto has been negligent?”

Jaehaerys hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “Not necessarily negligent, but possibly overly optimistic or misinformed. Whatever the reason, it’s clear that we need to reassess the situation with fresh eyes and ensure that our strategies are grounded in reality.”

Viserys looked thoughtful, the weight of the crown heavy upon him. “You’re right. We need to approach this with clarity and determination. Your leadership in this matter is crucial, Jaehaerys. The lords respect you, and they will follow your lead.”

Jaehaerys met his brother’s gaze, his expression resolute. “I will do everything in my power to ensure we respond effectively to this threat. We must protect our realm and our people.”

Viserys felt a surge of relief and pride. “Then let us prepare for the council of war with all the information and resources we can muster. Together, we will drive the Triarchy from the Stepstones and secure our realm’s future.”

Jaehaerys nodded, his expression resolute but contemplative. “Viserys, if I am to lead a successful campaign in the Stepstones, I will need Daemon by my side.”

Viserys' eyes widened slightly at the mention of their volatile brother. “Daemon? He is unpredictable, and his methods are... unconventional. Are you sure?”

Jaehaerys met Viserys' gaze with unwavering confidence. “I am. Daemon’s prowess in battle and his experience with naval warfare are unmatched. His presence would not only bolster our forces but also serve as a powerful symbol of our united front. Despite his flaws, Daemon's loyalty to our family and his desire for glory will drive him to fight fiercely against the Triarchy.”

Viserys considered his brother's words, understanding the necessity of strength and unity in the face of such a formidable foe. “Very well. If you believe Daemon’s involvement is crucial, then I will support your decision. But you must ensure he understands the importance of this mission and the need for cooperation.”

Jaehaerys nodded. “I will speak with him personally. I am confident that, with Daemon by our side, we can turn the tide in our favor.”

Viserys clasped Jaehaerys’ shoulder, a sense of determination solidifying between them. “Then let us move forward with this plan. Together, we will reclaim the Stepstones and restore peace and stability to our realm.”

As Jaehaerys left the king’s chambers to prepare for the impending campaign, Viserys felt a renewed sense of hope. The path ahead would be challenging, but with his brothers united in purpose, he believed they could overcome the threat of the Triarchy and secure the future of Westeros.

—

As Jaehaerys stepped out of the king's chambers, deep in thought about the upcoming campaign, he nearly collided with Lord Otto Hightower, who was striding purposefully down the corridor. 

"Lord Otto," Jaehaerys greeted, his tone polite but guarded.

Lord Otto stopped in his tracks, his expression composed but curious. "Prince Jaehaerys. A fortuitous encounter. I trust your discussion with the king was productive?"

Jaehaerys nodded, his gaze steady. "Indeed. We have much to consider regarding the Triarchy's threat and our response to it."

Lord Otto's eyes narrowed slightly, sensing the tension in the air. "Ah, yes, the Triarchy. A troubling development, to be sure. However, I am confident that our forces, under your capable leadership, will prevail."

Jaehaerys inclined his head, but his tone remained measured. "I appreciate your confidence, Lord Otto. However, I must admit to some concerns regarding the accuracy of our intelligence on the Triarchy's activities."

Lord Otto's facade faltered for a moment, a flicker of unease crossing his features before he regained his composure. "Intelligence gathering is an ongoing process, Prince Jaehaerys. Sometimes, certain details may escape our notice initially. Rest assured, we are doing everything in our power to address any oversights."

Jaehaerys regarded Lord Otto with a penetrating gaze. "I understand the complexities of intelligence work, Lord Otto. But the discrepancy between what we have been told and what the lords are reporting is concerning. We cannot afford to underestimate the threat we face."

Lord Otto's expression hardened, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his voice. "I assure you, Prince Jaehaerys, the Crown's interests are always my foremost priority. If there have been oversights or misjudgments, I will see to it that they are rectified."

Jaehaerys nodded, his tone diplomatic but firm. "I appreciate your commitment, Lord Otto. However, moving forward, I believe it is imperative that we have the most accurate and comprehensive intelligence available to us. The success of our campaign against the Triarchy depends on it."

Lord Otto's gaze met Jaehaerys', a silent exchange of understanding passing between them. "Agreed, Prince Jaehaerys. I will ensure that our intelligence efforts are redoubled, and that we have the information we need to proceed effectively."

With a final nod of acknowledgment, Jaehaerys and Lord Otto parted ways, each with their own thoughts about the challenges that lay ahead.

—

As Jaehaerys arrived at his chambers, his mind still preoccupied with the weighty matters discussed with his brother and Lord Otto, he was surprised to find Rhaenyra, waiting outside.

"Nyra," Jaehaerys greeted, a hint of warmth softening his expression. "What brings you here?"

Rhaenyra's eyes sparkled with anticipation as she stepped forward to greet him. "Harry, I was hoping to speak with you. I've been thinking about the council of war regarding the Triarchy, and I wanted to offer my support in any way I can."

Jaehaerys smiled, touched by her gesture of solidarity. "Thank you, Rhaenyra. Your support means a great deal to me. The situation with the Triarchy is indeed dire, and having you by my side as we navigate these challenges brings me comfort."

Rhaenyra's smile widened, her eyes shining with determination. "I am here for you Harry, in both times of peace and times of strife. Together, we will face whatever obstacles come our way."

Jaehaerys reached out to take her hand, a sense of gratitude washing over him. "I am grateful to have you as my partner,Nyra. Your strength and wisdom will be invaluable as we confront the threat of the Triarchy."

Rhaenyra squeezed his hand gently, her gaze unwavering. "We make a formidable team, Harry. With our love and our unity, there is nothing we cannot overcome."

As they stood together outside his chambers, Jaehaerys felt a renewed sense of purpose and determination.

—

On the training grounds, Jaehaerys found himself facing his brothers-in-arms, Vaelar and Garth, for a two-on-one spar. The morning sun cast a golden hue over the field as they squared off, their swords gleaming in the light.

With practiced ease, Jaehaerys parried Vaelar's first strike, his movements fluid and precise. Garth circled around, looking for an opening to exploit. Together, they pressed the attack, their movements coordinated and relentless.

Jaehaerys grinned as he deflected another series of blows, his senses heightened by the exhilaration of combat. Vaelar and Garth fought with skill and determination, their camaraderie evident in their synchronized movements.

As the spar continued, Jaehaerys felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins. Despite being outnumbered, he held his own against his opponents, his movements becoming more fluid and decisive with each passing moment.

Vaelar and Garth, sensing an opportunity, launched a coordinated assault, their swords flashing in the sunlight. But Jaehaerys was ready, his reflexes honed by years of training. With a swift counterattack, he disarmed Vaelar and sent Garth stumbling backwards.

The training ground fell silent as the three brothers-in-arms caught their breath, their chests heaving with exertion. Despite the intensity of their spar, there was a sense of camaraderie and mutual respect between them.

"Well fought, brothers," Jaehaerys said, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "But I think it's safe to say I emerged victorious this time."

Vaelar and Garth chuckled, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction. "Indeed, Jaehaerys," Vaelar replied, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "You never cease to impress us with your skill and valor."

Garth nodded in agreement. "A true warrior, through and through. We are fortunate to have you leading us into battle."

As they made their way off the training grounds, the bond between Jaehaerys, Vaelar, and Garth became stronger than ever, they knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, as brothers-in-arms.

—

On the fourth day, the lords once again gathered in the Throne Room, this time for a council of war to address the looming threat of the Triarchy in the Stepstones. The atmosphere was tense with anticipation as they took their seats, the weight of their collective responsibility heavy upon their shoulders.

King Viserys sat upon the Iron Throne, flanked by Prince Jaehaerys and Princess Rhaenyra, their presence a symbol of unity and leadership. Lord Otto Hightower stood at the king's side, his expression composed but watchful as the proceedings began.

Lord Corlys Velaryon, Lord Desmond Manderly, Lord Lymond Mallister, and Lord Robert Redwyne, along with other prominent lords and military commanders, filled the hall, their voices hushed as they awaited the start of the council.

Viserys rose from the throne, his voice echoing through the chamber. "My lords, we have convened this council to address the grave threat posed by the Triarchy in the Stepstones. Their continued aggression against our fleets and trade routes cannot be ignored, and it is imperative that we formulate a unified strategy to counter their incursions."

Prince Jaehaerys stepped forward, his presence commanding the room's attention. "The Triarchy's presence in the Stepstones poses a significant threat to the stability and security of our realm. We must act swiftly and decisively to reclaim control of these vital waters and ensure the safety of our people and our trade."

The lords listened intently as Jaehaerys outlined his plan for the campaign, drawing upon their combined resources and strategies to drive the Triarchy from the Stepstones once and for all. He emphasized the importance of intelligence gathering, fleet coordination, and strategic alliances in achieving their objectives.

Lord Otto Hightower added his own insights, stressing the need for caution and foresight in their approach. He outlined potential risks and challenges, offering suggestions for mitigating them and maximizing their chances of success.

As the council continued, ideas were exchanged, strategies debated, and plans refined. The lords, united in purpose, pledged their unwavering support to the Crown and to each other, determined to confront the Triarchy head-on and emerge victorious.

As the council drew to a close, Viserys addressed the gathered lords once more. "My lords, the road ahead will be fraught with challenges, but I have every confidence in your abilities and your dedication to our cause. Together, we will drive the Triarchy from our waters and secure the future of our realm."

With that, the lords departed, their minds filled with the weight of their responsibilities and the determination to see their mission through to its successful conclusion. The campaign against the Triarchy had begun in earnest, and the fate of Westeros hung in the balance.

Chapter Text

Daemon Targaryen's regret over his failure to advocate for the revoking of his brother Jaehaerys' exile runs deep, haunting him as he rides through the skies above King's Landing. As he guides Caraxes with practiced ease, his mind wanders back to the moment when Viserys ascended the throne. Perhaps he had been too consumed by his own ambitions, too focused on consolidating his own power, to truly consider the plight of his younger brother.

In hindsight, Daemon realizes that Jaehaerys had acted swiftly to secure his own return from exile, a move born out of desperation and determination. Yet, Daemon's own reluctance to intervene on his brother's behalf weighs heavily on his conscience. He wonders if things could have been different, if he had only been more vocal in his support for Jaehaerys' cause.

The bond between brothers, especially among the Targaryens, is a complex tapestry of loyalty, rivalry, and duty. Daemon's inner conflict mirrors the intricate dynamics of his family's history, where power struggles and personal agendas often collide with familial bonds. As he flies high above the city, the wind whipping around him, Daemon can't help but feel the weight of his regret, a constant reminder of the choices he made and the opportunities he let slip away.

Daemon's heart races as he recognizes the colossal black dragon descending from the clouds. His breath catches in his throat as he realizes that the dragon is none other than Gaelithox, formerly known as the Cannibal, the legendary mount of his brother Jaehaerys. The sight of the massive dragon overshadowing Caraxes fills Daemon with a mix of awe, pride, and a tinge of envy.

Gaelithox's imposing presence serves as a stark reminder of Jaehaerys' power and influence, as well as his undeniable connection to the ancient dragons of House Targaryen. Despite their past differences and the regrets that weigh heavily on Daemon's mind, seeing his brother bond with his formidable dragon fills him with a sense of pride and admiration.

As Gaelithox flies alongside Caraxes, Daemon can't help but feel a surge of emotions swirling within him. The bond between a dragon and its rider is a powerful one, and witnessing the reunion between Jaehaerys and Gaelithox serves as a poignant reminder of the unbreakable ties that bind House Targaryen together, even in the face of adversity.

With Jaehaerys and Gaelithox by his side, Daemon's resolve is strengthened, his determination renewed. Whatever challenges may lie ahead, he knows that together, they will face them head-on, as brothers bound by blood and the legacy of their noble house.

High above the dragonpit, Daemon and Jaehaerys guide their dragons in a graceful dance through the sky. As Caraxes and Gaelithox circle each other, there is an undeniable sense of camaraderie between the ancient beasts, as if they are engaged in a silent conversation of their own.

The dragons' movements are fluid and synchronized, a testament to the deep bond between them and their riders. With each graceful turn and twist, it's as if Caraxes and Gaelithox are communicating without words, sharing their own thoughts and feelings in a language understood only by dragons.

Daemon and Jaehaerys watch in silent awe as their dragons perform this aerial ballet, their own silent conversation mirroring that of their majestic mounts. In that moment, amidst the swirling winds and the vast expanse of sky, the bond between dragon and rider is reaffirmed, a bond that transcends words and spans generations.

As they continue to circle the dragonpit, Daemon and Jaehaerys share a knowing look, a silent acknowledgment of the unbreakable connection they share with their dragons. Together, they soar through the heavens, united in purpose and bound by the legacy of House Targaryen.

—

Daemon and Jaehaerys dismount from their dragons, their feet touching the solid ground of the dragonpit as they are welcomed by the Dragon guard. As the guards take charge of the care of Caraxes and Gaelithox, the brothers exchange a glance, a silent understanding passing between them.

With a mixture of relief and affection, Daemon and Jaehaerys embrace, their bond as brothers transcending the weight of their past conflicts and regrets. In that moment, there are no titles or rivalries, only the shared kinship of blood and the unbreakable ties that bind them together.

As Daemon and Jaehaerys descended from the backs of their mighty dragons, a sense of familiarity and warmth enveloped them. They greeted each other with an embrace, their bond as brothers evident in the way they held onto each other.

"Jaehaerys, it's good to see you, brother," Daemon said, a hint of relief in his voice.

"Likewise, Daemon," Jaehaerys replied, his tone filled with genuine affection.

"When will Rhea be arriving?" Jaehaerys inquired, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

Daemon chuckled softly, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "Ah, the Bronze Bitch," he said affectionately. "She left Runestone weeks ago. I expect her to arrive tomorrow, most likely."

There was a fondness in Daemon's tone as he spoke of his wife, despite the playful nickname he used.

Jaehaerys raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned in slightly. "So, Daemon, have you mounted your 'Bronze Bitch' yet?"

Daemon chuckled, a hearty laugh escaping him at his brother's playful inquiry. "Not yet, Jaehaerys," he replied with a grin. "But I suspect she'll have plenty to say about that when she arrives."

Their banter was lighthearted, a reflection of the camaraderie between them. Despite the weight of their responsibilities as members of House Targaryen, moments like these served as a reminder to cherish the bonds of family and the joy of shared laughter.

—

Mounted on swift horses, Daemon and Jaehaerys arrived at the gates of the Red Keep, the iconic fortress that loomed over King's Landing. As they dismounted, the imposing figures of King Viserys, Queen Rhaenyra, and the esteemed members of the Small Council awaited them in the courtyard.

Viserys' regal presence radiated warmth as he greeted his brothers with open arms, a smile gracing his lips. "Welcome home, Daemon," he said, his voice carrying the weight of both authority and familial affection.

As Viserys welcomed Daemon with warmth, Daemon couldn't help but notice a change in his older brother's appearance. Viserys, once pale and sickly during Daemon's exile, now seemed healthier and more vibrant than before. His complexion was no longer pallid, and there was a newfound vigor in his demeanor.

Daemon's gaze flickered briefly to Jaehaerys, a silent question lingering in his mind. Had Jaehaerys, with his mastery of magic, used his powers to heal Viserys during Daemon's absence?

Despite the curiosity gnawing at him, Daemon knew better than to voice his suspicions openly. Instead, he simply returned Viserys' greeting with a grateful smile, choosing to focus on the present moment and the warmth of their reunion.

Rhaenyra, resplendent in her regal attire, stepped forward to embrace her uncle Daemon, her eyes alight with genuine joy at his return. "It's been too long," she said, her voice tinged with warmth and sincerity.

Daemon returned Rhaenyra's embrace, feeling a surge of affection for his niece. Despite the trials and tribulations that had marked their family's history, there was a bond between them that transcended time and distance.

"It's good to see you, Rhaenyra," Daemon replied, his voice filled with fondness. "I've missed you."

As they pulled apart, their eyes met in silent understanding. There was much to discuss and catch up on, but in that moment, surrounded by family and allies, Daemon couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the love and support that surrounded him.

As the members of the Small Council gathered around Viserys, their expressions were a mixture of respect and deference, each bearing the marks of wisdom and experience befitting their roles as advisors to the crown.

However, amidst the cordial atmosphere, a tension simmered beneath the surface as Daemon's gaze locked with Otto Hightower's, the Hand of the King. Their eyes met in a silent exchange filled with barely concealed contempt, a testament to the longstanding rivalry and power struggles that had defined their relationship.

Daemon's jaw tensed as he held Otto's gaze, a flicker of defiance in his eyes. Though they stood side by side in the presence of the king, their animosity remained palpable, a reminder of the political intrigue and personal vendettas that permeated the corridors of power within the Red Keep.

As the silent standoff continued, neither Daemon nor Otto willing to back down, it was clear that their relationship was fraught with tension and distrust. In the midst of their reunion, the shadows of old grudges lingered, casting a pall over the otherwise jovial atmosphere of the council chambers.

As Daemon and Otto Hightower's silent confrontation continued, Jaehaerys stepped forward, breaking the tension with a warm smile.

"Daemon," Jaehaerys said, turning to his brother, "allow me to introduce you to an old friend of mine from Essos. This is Vaelar Ullaros, Former First Sword of Braavos."

Daemon's gaze shifted from Otto to Jaehaerys, his curiosity piqued by the introduction. He extended his hand to Vaelar, offering a polite nod of acknowledgment.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Vaelar," Daemon said, his tone cordial. "Any friend of Jaehaerys is a friend of mine."

Vaelar returned the gesture with a firm handshake, his demeanor exuding confidence and a hint of mystery. "Likewise, Prince Daemon," he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of Braavosi accent.

As they exchanged pleasantries, Daemon couldn't help but feel a sense of intrigue about this enigmatic figure from Braavos. In the midst of the political machinations of King's Landing, it was refreshing to encounter someone with a different perspective and background.

As Daemon's gaze swept across the gathered crowd, he spotted another familiar face amidst the throng. There, standing beside Ser Ryam, was Garth Redwyne, Jaehaerys' childhood friend and companion.

A smile spread across Daemon's face as he made his way towards Garth, the memories of their shared adventures flooding back.

"Garth," Daemon called out, his voice filled with genuine warmth as he clasped his friend's hand in a firm handshake. "It's good to see you again, old friend."

Garth returned the gesture with a grin, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "And you as well, Daemon," he replied, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "It's been too long."

—

In the privacy of Jaehaerys' chambers, the atmosphere was hushed as Daemon, Garth, and Vaelar gathered around a table. Jaehaerys, the ever meticulous planner, laid out two sets of lists before them.

The first list contained the names of potential candidates for the Scarlet Shadows, meticulously curated based on their skills, loyalty, and discretion. Daemon's eyes scanned the names, recognizing some familiar faces among them, but also noting the diversity of backgrounds and talents represented.

"These are promising candidates," Daemon remarked, his tone approving. "We'll need to conduct thorough interviews and assessments to ensure they meet our standards."

Jaehaerys nodded in agreement, his expression thoughtful. "Agreed. We'll need to be diligent in our selection process to find the best candidates for the task at hand."

As Jaehaerys revealed the names of the individuals tasked with training the recruits, Daemon's gaze fell upon a familiar name that brought a smile to his lips. Lady Myrcella Penrose, renowned for her exceptional skill in archery, was among the chosen trainers.

Daemon's heart swelled with pride at the thought of Lady Myrcella's involvement. He had known her for years, admired her prowess with a bow, and respected her unwavering dedication to her craft.

"Lady Myrcella," Daemon said, his voice filled with admiration. "She's an excellent choice. Her expertise in archery will be invaluable in shaping the Scarlet Shadows into formidable markswomen."

Garth and Vaelar nodded in agreement, recognizing Lady Myrcella's reputation and skill. With her guidance, they knew that the recruits would receive top-notch training, ensuring that they were fully prepared for the challenges that lay ahead.

As they discussed the other names on the list, Daemon couldn't shake the sense of pride and excitement that welled within him. With Lady Myrcella and the other trainers leading the way, the Scarlet Shadows would be well-equipped to fulfill their mission of protecting the royal women and defending the honor of House Targaryen.

—-

In the sunlit courtyard of the Red Keep, Garth Redwyne stood alongside Rhaenyra, Jaehaerys, and Vaelar, anticipation humming in the air as they awaited the arrival of Lady Myrcella Penrose.

In the sunlit courtyard of the Red Keep, Garth Redwyne stood alongside Rhaenyra, Jaehaerys, and Vaelar, anticipation humming in the air as they awaited the arrival of Lady Myrcella Penrose.

As they stood there, the grand gates of the Red Keep swung open, and a figure emerged, her presence commanding attention. Lady Myrcella Penrose strode forward with confidence, her bow slung over her shoulder, a symbol of her mastery of the art of archery.

Dressed in brown and off-white riding leathers, the colors of House Penrose, Lady Myrcella cut a striking figure against the backdrop of the Red Keep's stone walls. Her attire spoke of practicality and elegance, a reflection of her status as a skilled warrior and noblewoman.

Garth's eyes lit up with recognition and admiration as he stepped forward to greet her. "Lady Myrcella," he said, a smile gracing his lips. "Welcome to the Red Keep."

Lady Myrcella's own smile widened as she returned Garth's greeting, a warmth spreading through her at the sight of him. She had always admired his strength and charisma, and now, standing before him, she couldn't help but feel a flutter of attraction.

"Thank you, Lord Garth," Lady Myrcella replied, her voice tinged with genuine pleasure. "It's an honor to be here."

As their eyes met, a silent understanding passed between them, a mutual recognition of the connection that had sparked between them. In the midst of their shared mission to train the Scarlet Shadows, Garth and Lady Myrcella found themselves drawn to each other, their bond growing stronger with each passing moment.

As Garth and Lady Myrcella exchanged greetings, Rhaenyra and Jaehaerys observed the interaction with keen interest. They had known Garth for years, but Lady Myrcella was a new acquaintance to them. However, even in their first encounter, it was evident that there was a palpable attraction brewing between Garth and Lady Myrcella.

Rhaenyra's eyes sparkled with amusement as she exchanged a knowing glance with Jaehaerys. "It seems our training sessions for the Scarlet Shadows might be more eventful than we anticipated," she remarked, her tone filled with amusement.

Jaehaerys nodded in agreement, his gaze flickering between Garth and Lady Myrcella. "Indeed," he replied, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "It seems our recruits aren't the only ones forging bonds in the heat of battle."

As the introductions concluded, Rhaenyra took a step forward, her regal presence commanding attention. "Lady Myrcella, we are honored to have you join us," she said warmly. "Your reputation precedes you, and we look forward to the skills you will bring to the Scarlet Shadows."

Lady Myrcella inclined her head respectfully. "Thank you, Your Grace. It is an honor to serve and to contribute to such a noble cause."

Jaehaerys gestured toward the entrance of the Red Keep. "Shall we proceed inside? We have much to discuss and plan regarding the training of the Scarlet Shadows."

As the group moved into the keep, they were led to a spacious chamber where maps, training schedules, and strategic plans were laid out across a large table. Vaelar, ever the strategist, began to outline the initial phases of the training program.

"Lady Myrcella, your expertise in archery will be crucial," Vaelar said, his tone respectful. "We envision the Scarlet Shadows being proficient in multiple forms of combat, but your guidance will ensure they excel as archers."

Lady Myrcella nodded, her expression serious and focused. "I will ensure they are the finest archers in the realm."

Garth, standing beside her, added, "And I will assist wherever needed. Together, we will create a force to be reckoned with."

As they delved into the details of the training regimen, discussing everything from physical conditioning to tactical drills, the camaraderie and mutual respect among them grew stronger. The atmosphere in the room was one of determination and unity, each person committed to the success of the Scarlet Shadows.

Throughout the meeting, Rhaenyra and Jaehaerys couldn't help but notice the subtle glances and shared smiles between Garth and Lady Myrcella. It was clear that their initial attraction was blossoming into something deeper, adding a personal element to their shared mission.

By the time the meeting concluded, the plans for the Scarlet Shadows were well underway. As they dispersed, Garth lingered for a moment, turning to Lady Myrcella.

"Would you care for a tour of the training grounds?" he asked, his tone casual but his eyes conveying a deeper interest.

Lady Myrcella smiled, a spark of excitement in her eyes. "I would love that."

As they walked side by side through the Red Keep, the beginnings of a new chapter unfolded—not just for the Scarlet Shadows, but perhaps for Garth and Lady Myrcella as well.

—

That evening, the atmosphere in the grand dining hall of the Red Keep was warm and familial. King Viserys sat at the head of the table, his brothers Daemon and Jaehaerys on either side, with his beloved daughter Rhaenyra seated next to Daemon. The flickering candlelight cast a gentle glow on their faces as they shared stories and laughter, the bonds of family evident in their interactions.

Viserys raised his goblet in a toast, his voice filled with affection. "To family, and to the strength we find in each other," he declared, his eyes meeting those of his brothers and daughter. 

"To family," Daemon echoed, lifting his own goblet, a rare smile on his lips. 

Jaehaerys and Rhaenyra followed suit, their expressions mirroring the warmth and unity of the moment.

Just as they were about to take a sip, the doors to the dining hall swung open, and in walked Alicent Hightower, her presence immediately drawing the attention of everyone at the table. The surprise was palpable as she approached, her serene demeanor belying the shock her sudden arrival had caused.

"Alicent," Viserys greeted her, a mix of surprise and curiosity in his tone. "We were not expecting you."

Alicent's eyes widened slightly as she took in the presence of Rhaenyra, Daemon, and Jaehaerys seated at the table. Clearly, she had not anticipated finding the entire royal family gathered here. "Your Grace, my apologies for intruding," she began, her voice measured. "I did not realize you had company."

Viserys smiled warmly, gesturing to the empty seat beside him. "No intrusion at all, Alicent. Please, join us."

Rhaenyra, however, couldn't hide her perplexity. She exchanged a quick glance with Daemon, her mind racing. How had Alicent managed to enter the king's chambers without being stopped by the Kingsguard? The ease of her arrival suggested that this wasn't the first time she had been here under such circumstances. Rhaenyra's eyes narrowed slightly as she studied her friend, a myriad of unspoken questions flickering in her gaze.

"Please, Alicent, sit with us," Jaehaerys said, his tone polite but his eyes sharp with curiosity. "We were just enjoying a family dinner."

Alicent took her seat gracefully, her smile masking any unease she might have felt. "Thank you, Your Grace, my princes, and princess," she replied, settling in and raising her goblet. "To family."

The others echoed the toast, though Rhaenyra's voice carried an undertone of suspicion. As the meal continued, the conversation resumed, though the earlier warmth had taken on a more guarded edge.

Viserys, oblivious to the subtleties, continued to share stories and laughter, clearly pleased by the company. Meanwhile, Daemon remained mostly silent, his watchful eyes flicking between Alicent and Rhaenyra, noting the unspoken tension.

Jaehaerys, on the other hand, seemed mostly resigned. His demeanor suggested a quiet acceptance, as if he had long known that such underlying tensions would eventually surface. He listened to the conversation with a calm detachment, his gaze occasionally meeting Rhaenyra's or Alicent's with a knowing look. As Rhaenyra's betrothed, he felt a deeper sense of responsibility to understand and navigate these complex dynamics.

"Do you remember the summer of the Great Tourney?" Viserys said, his voice filled with nostalgic warmth. "Jaehaerys, you won every joust, and Daemon—well, you broke more lances than anyone else."

"Those were good times," Daemon replied, a rare smile touching his lips, though his eyes remained alert.

Alicent chimed in, her voice light and engaging. "I've heard tales of that tourney. It must have been quite a spectacle."

"It was," Rhaenyra said, her tone polite but her mind still racing with questions. She shot a glance at Jaehaerys, who caught her eye and gave a subtle nod, as if to say, "We will discuss this later."

Jaehaerys finally spoke, his voice carrying a calm authority. "It's always enlightening to see how our pasts shape our present, and how the people around us influence our paths."

Viserys nodded enthusiastically. "Indeed, Jaehaerys. It’s what makes family dinners like these so important."

As the meal progressed, Rhaenyra couldn't help but feel a growing sense of unease. The dynamic between Alicent and her father, the ease with which Alicent had entered the chambers, and the resignation in Jaehaerys' eyes—all of it pointed to something deeper, something that would need to be addressed sooner rather than later.

When the dinner finally concluded, Viserys rose from his seat, his face lit with a contented smile. "Thank you all for a wonderful evening. It is moments like these that remind me of the strength we draw from each other."

—

As the group dispersed, Rhaenyra lingered for a moment, her thoughts a whirlwind of suspicion and curiosity. She caught Jaehaerys' arm as they walked out. "We need to talk," she whispered, her voice urgent.

Jaehaerys nodded, his expression serious. "Follow me," he said quietly, leading her away from the bustling corridors of the Red Keep.

They wound their way through the labyrinthine halls, Jaehaerys navigating with a confidence born of familiarity. Rhaenyra followed closely behind, her mind racing with questions.

Finally, Jaehaerys stopped before a seemingly ordinary section of wall. With a deft touch, he pressed a hidden stone, and to Rhaenyra's astonishment, a hidden door swung open, revealing a dark passageway beyond.

"These are the secret passages made by Maegor the Cruel," Jaehaerys explained quietly, his voice echoing softly in the dimly lit corridor. "I used to explore these passages as a child."

Rhaenyra's eyes widened in awe as she stepped into the passageway, her senses alive with the thrill of discovery. She followed Jaehaerys deeper into the darkness, the air heavy with the weight of history and secrecy.

As they walked, Jaehaerys spoke softly, recounting tales of his childhood adventures in the hidden passages, his words weaving a tapestry of mystery and intrigue. Rhaenyra listened intently, her mind buzzing with excitement and anticipation.

Finally, they emerged into a hidden chamber, bathed in the soft glow of torchlight. Jaehaerys turned to Rhaenyra, his eyes serious.

"Now that we're alone, what did you want to talk about?" he asked, his tone gentle but probing.

Rhaenyra took a deep breath, her resolve strengthening in the quiet solitude of the secret chamber. "Alicent's sudden appearance tonight, the ease with which she entered the king's chambers... Something doesn't feel right," she said, her voice low but determined. "I fear there may be more to her presence than meets the eye."

Jaehaerys nodded solemnly, his expression grave. "Rhaenyra, there are truths that must come to light," he began, his voice measured. "It's time you knew the full extent of Otto Hightower's scheme to make his daughter Alicent the queen."

Rhaenyra's eyes widened in shock as Jaehaerys recounted the devious plot orchestrated by Otto Hightower. He spoke of how Hightower had manipulated Viserys, who was still grieving the loss of his beloved wife, the Late Queen Aemma—Rhaenyra's own mother. He described how Hightower had insidiously used Alicent to seduce Viserys, playing on his vulnerability and loneliness to further his own ambitions.

As Jaehaerys spoke, Rhaenyra's heart filled with a mixture of anger and disbelief. The betrayal, the deceit—it was almost too much to bear. Yet, even as she grappled with the weight of this revelation, a sense of clarity began to dawn within her.

"So Alicent's presence here tonight... It's all part of Hightower's scheme," Rhaenyra murmured, her voice tinged with bitterness.

Jaehaerys nodded in agreement, his expression thoughtful. "Yes, it seems likely," he replied, his tone reflecting the weight of their conversation. "But judging by the look of surprise on Alicent's face when she saw us, she didn't expect the three of us to be in the King's chambers. So even if it is a scheme, there's a possibility that Alicent might genuinely enjoy Viserys' company."

Rhaenyra considered Jaehaerys' words, the bitterness in her heart momentarily tempered by a flicker of doubt. It was true—Alicent's surprise at their presence did suggest a level of spontaneity that contradicted the calculated nature of Hightower's scheme.

"Perhaps you're right," she conceded, her voice softening slightly. "But that doesn't change the fact that we need to confront father about what's been happening. He deserves to know the truth."

Jaehaerys regarded her with a solemn expression. "Rhaenyra, I fear it may be too late to stop these plans," he said, his tone heavy with regret. "Viserys already has feelings for Alicent. Judging by how comfortable he was to have her present with his family for dinner, it's clear that their relationship has progressed further than we anticipated."

Rhaenyra's heart sank at Jaehaerys' words, a sense of helplessness washing over her. The realization that their father's affections had been manipulated by Hightower's schemes weighed heavily on her, filling her with a mixture of anger and despair.

"But we can't give up," she said, her voice tinged with determination. "Even if it's too late to stop Hightower's plans, we must still confront father and make him aware of the truth. He deserves to know the extent of the manipulation he's fallen victim to."

Jaehaerys listened to her words, his expression grave. "Rhaenyra, I fear that Viserys may be too deeply ensnared by Otto's influence to believe us," he admitted, his tone tinged with frustration. "He may dismiss our claims as baseless accusations, especially if they go against his feelings for Alicent."

Rhaenyra's resolve faltered for a moment, the weight of Jaehaerys' words sinking in. But she refused to back down. "We can't let that stop us," she insisted, her voice unwavering. "We owe it to father to try, to make him see the truth, no matter how difficult it may be."

Jaehaerys nodded in agreement, his eyes reflecting a mixture of concern and determination. "You're right, Rhaenyra. We must do everything in our power to mitigate the damages of Otto's schemes. But to do that, we need to ensure that Otto remains here at the Red Keep as Hand, rather than at Oldtown where his influence may go unchecked."

Rhaenyra's brow furrowed with understanding. "So you have a plan," she said, a glimmer of hope creeping into her voice.

Jaehaerys nodded. "Yes, I do. And with your help, we can ensure that our family and our realm remain protected from the machinations of those who seek to manipulate us."

With a shared sense of determination, Rhaenyra and Jaehaerys continued down the passageway, their minds set on the difficult task that lay ahead. Though the road ahead would be fraught with challenges, they were united in their commitment to their family and their duty to the realm, ready to face whatever trials awaited them.

Chapter Text

In the quiet solitude of her chamber, Rhaenyra sat by the window, gazing out at the sprawling city of King's Landing. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows on the stone walls, but her mind was far from the room's warmth. Instead, it wandered back to the conversation she had with Jaehaerys the previous night, the gravity of their discussion weighing heavily on her heart.

Jaehaerys had revealed the depth of Otto Hightower's scheming, a plot designed to entwine his daughter Alicent with her father, King Viserys. The realization that Otto had manipulated Viserys during his most vulnerable time—grieving the death of her mother, Queen Aemma—filled Rhaenyra with a mix of anger and sadness. It was a cruel twist of fate that the woman she had once considered a friend was now at the center of a scheme to usurp their family's influence.

Reflecting on Jaehaerys' words, Rhaenyra's thoughts turned to her father's affection for Alicent. She had seen the ease and comfort with which he included Alicent in their family dinner, a clear sign that his feelings for her were genuine. But the knowledge that these feelings had been fostered by deceit cast a dark shadow over their bond.

"Viserys is too deeply ensnared by Otto's influence to believe us," Jaehaerys had said, his voice filled with frustration and resignation. The memory of his solemn expression lingered in her mind. She knew he was right. Viserys, blinded by his affections and the manipulations of a trusted advisor, might dismiss their warnings as mere jealousy or baseless accusations.

Rhaenyra sighed, her breath fogging the cold glass of the window. She felt a deep sense of helplessness, torn between her duty to protect her father and the realization that confronting him might only push him further into Otto's grasp. Yet, despite the overwhelming odds, she knew they had to try. They owed it to Viserys to attempt to lift the veil of deceit that clouded his judgment.

Her thoughts also returned to Jaehaerys' assurance that he had plans to mitigate the damage caused by Otto's schemes. Keeping Otto at the Red Keep, where his actions could be monitored, was a crucial part of their strategy. It was a delicate balance they needed to maintain, ensuring Otto's influence was contained without arousing his suspicion.

Jaehaerys had asked her to act normally with Alicent for now, a request that was proving difficult given the circumstances. The very idea of maintaining a facade of friendship with someone who was unwittingly part of a plot to manipulate her father filled Rhaenyra with a sense of betrayal and anger. Yet, she understood the necessity. Confronting Alicent directly or showing hostility could tip their hand too soon, giving Otto an advantage they couldn't afford.

Rhaenyra rose from her seat and began pacing her chamber, her mind racing with the implications of their conversation. Acting normally with Alicent meant suppressing her true feelings and pretending everything was as it had been before the web of deceit had been revealed. It meant sharing meals, exchanging pleasantries, and possibly even confiding in Alicent as if nothing had changed.

The thought made her stomach churn, but Rhaenyra knew it was a small price to pay for the greater good. If they were to protect Viserys and the realm from Otto's machinations, she had to play her part, no matter how distasteful it might be. She trusted Jaehaerys' judgment and his plans, but it would require all her strength to maintain the charade.

Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself for the day ahead. She would keep Jaehaerys' counsel close to her heart and navigate the treacherous waters of court life with care and cunning. The stakes were too high for any missteps.

As the morning light grew stronger, Rhaenyra readied herself, donning her most regal attire and preparing to face the challenges that awaited. She would act her part to perfection, masking her true feelings behind a veil of courtesy and composure.

With a final glance in the mirror, she whispered to herself, "For father, for our family, and for the realm." And with that, Rhaenyra Targaryen stepped out of her chamber, ready to face whatever the day might bring, her mind set on the delicate balance she needed to maintain in the name of duty and love.

—

The tension in the air was palpable as Rhaenyra entered the dining hall for breakfast. The grand room, usually a place of warmth and familial comfort, felt stifling and heavy with unspoken words. Viserys sat at the head of the table, his expression calm and welcoming, unaware of the undercurrents swirling around him. 

Jaehaerys and Daemon were already seated, their expressions guarded. As Rhaenyra took her place, she exchanged a brief, knowing glance with Jaehaerys, their shared understanding of the situation offering a small measure of comfort.

"Good morning, Rhaenyra," Viserys greeted warmly, his smile genuine. "I hope you slept well."

"Good morning, Father," Rhaenyra replied, forcing a smile. "I did, thank you."

The servants moved quietly around them, setting plates of food on the table. Despite the sumptuous spread, Rhaenyra found her appetite lacking. She picked at her food, her thoughts consumed by the conversation she had with Jaehaerys the night before.

Viserys beamed, pleased to see his family together. "It's good to see you all here," he said, his tone warm. "It brings me great joy."

Jaehaerys, ever observant, decided to steer the conversation. "Brother, how are the preparations for the tourney progressing?" he asked, his voice measured.

Viserys nodded, his eyes lighting up. "Very well, Jaehaerys. The arrangements are nearly complete. It promises to be a splendid event in your honor. The realm is eager to celebrate your being named heir to the Iron Throne."

As the conversation turned to the upcoming festivities, Rhaenyra felt the tension ease slightly, though it never fully dissipated. She could sense Daemon's quiet intensity beside her, his presence a reminder of the unresolved issues that hung over them all.

Suddenly, Daemon's voice cut through the chatter. "And what of the security for the tourney, brother?" he asked, his tone pointed. "With so many visitors, it would be prudent to ensure everything is in order." As the former Commander of the City Watch, Daemon's concern carried the weight of his experience.

Viserys glanced at Daemon, a hint of annoyance flickering in his eyes. "The City Watch has been reinforced," he replied. "There is no need for concern, Daemon. Your successor has assured me that all necessary precautions have been taken."

Daemon nodded, but Rhaenyra could see the tension in his posture. She knew her uncle well enough to understand that he wouldn't easily let go of his suspicions.

Sensing the unease that lingered despite the surface pleasantries, Viserys decided to address the elephant in the room. He set down his fork and cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention. "I feel there's something we need to discuss," he began, his tone serious but gentle. "Alicent's presence at dinner last night."

The room grew quieter, the atmosphere charged with anticipation. Viserys continued, "I know her appearance was unexpected, and it may have raised some concerns among you."

Rhaenyra kept her gaze steady on her father, her thoughts racing. Jaehaerys sat beside her, his expression calm but attentive.

Viserys glanced at each of them in turn. "Alicent has been a great comfort to me in recent times. Since your mother passed, Rhaenyra, I have found solace in her companionship. I understand that this may come as a surprise, but I want you all to know that she has no ill intentions."

Rhaenyra exchanged a quick look with Jaehaerys, whose eyes reflected a mix of resignation and understanding. Daemon, however, remained silent, his face a mask of carefully controlled emotion.

Viserys sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. "I do not wish for there to be any discord within our family. Alicent is a friend, and she has shown nothing but kindness and respect."

Rhaenyra felt a pang of sympathy for her father. Despite her suspicions about Otto Hightower's schemes, she knew Viserys was genuine in his affection for Alicent.

Jaehaerys broke the silence, his voice calm and measured. "We understand, brother. It is clear that Alicent means a great deal to you. We will do our best to welcome her presence."

Viserys looked relieved, a faint smile touching his lips. "Thank you, Jaehaerys. It means a lot to me."

Rhaenyra nodded in agreement, though the unease in her heart remained. "We will support you, Father," she said softly. "Your happiness is important to us."

Daemon, though still tense, finally spoke. "As long as she remains loyal to you and the realm, that is all that matters."

Jaehaerys, ever the pragmatist, decided to address the matter directly. "Brother," he began, his tone careful, "are you planning to make it official? Will there be an announcement of your betrothal to Alicent?"

The room fell into a heavier silence, the question hanging in the air. Viserys looked momentarily taken aback, his eyes flickering with a mix of emotions. He glanced at each of them, gauging their reactions.

Finally, he sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. "I have been considering it," he admitted. "Alicent has been a great comfort to me, and I believe her presence would bring stability to the realm. However, I have not yet made a final decision."

Rhaenyra felt her heart tighten at her father's words. She exchanged a glance with Jaehaerys, whose face remained calm but whose eyes showed a flicker of concern.

"Father," Rhaenyra said softly, "we understand that you seek companionship and stability. But this is a significant decision that affects all of us. We trust that you will consider all implications carefully."

Viserys nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I appreciate your concern, Rhaenyra. I assure you, I will not make this decision lightly. Your mother’s memory and the future of our house are always at the forefront of my mind."

Daemon, never one to shy away from difficult truths, spoke up. "Brother, you should be aware that Lord Corlys Velaryon, who has been vying for his daughter Laena to be the next queen, will not be happy about this. His support is crucial, and we cannot afford to alienate him."

Viserys frowned, understanding the implications. "What do you suggest, Daemon?"

Daemon leaned forward, his eyes sharp. "We need to offer something to Corlys that will secure his loyalty. An alliance of sorts. Perhaps a marriage proposal involving one of our family members. We need to show him that the bond between House Targaryen and House Velaryon remains strong."

Viserys considered this, his gaze shifting to Rhaenyra and Jaehaerys. "A marriage alliance... It could work. But who would be suitable?"

"Brother," Daemon interjected, his tone grave yet determined, "consider this: Jaehaerys could marry both Rhaenyra and Laena.”

Daemon's suggestion hung in the air, prompting a moment of stunned silence. Viserys looked at his brother, his expression a mix of surprise and contemplation. "Two marriages?" he mused, considering the implications.

Daemon nodded, his gaze steady. "Yes, brother. It would solidify our ties with House Velaryon while also ensuring the stability of our succession."

Viserys turned to Rhaenyra and Jaehaerys, studying their reactions. Rhaenyra's eyes widened in disbelief, while Jaehaerys remained composed, though his surprise was evident.

"The 'Doctrine of Exceptionalism' written by the Old King Jaehaerys allows for such arrangements," Daemon continued, his tone confident. "As the heir, it would be permissible for Jaehaerys to marry both Rhaenyra and Laena, securing our alliances and ensuring the succession."

Viserys absorbed this information, his mind racing with the possibilities. He glanced between his children, weighing the benefits against the potential risks.

"It is an unconventional proposal," he said finally, "but one that may serve our interests well. Rhaenyra, Jaehaerys, what are your thoughts on this matter?"

Rhaenyra felt a surge of conflicting emotions. The idea of sharing her husband with another woman was difficult to accept, yet she understood the political necessity. She looked to Jaehaerys, seeking his guidance.

Jaehaerys met her gaze, his expression unreadable. "If it is what is best for the realm, I will abide by it," he said, his voice steady. "But I would like to hear Rhaenyra's thoughts on the matter first."

Rhaenyra hesitated for a moment, her mind racing with conflicting emotions. "It's... a complex situation," she began carefully, "but if it serves the stability of our house and the realm, then I will support it." She glanced at Jaehaerys, her thoughts lingering on the unspoken attraction she had always harbored for Laena.

As Jaehaerys focused his mind, delving into Rhaenyra's thoughts with Legilimency, he was met with a surprising revelation. Amidst the whirlwind of emotions and considerations, he discovered Rhaenyra's unspoken attraction to Laena.

His own emotions swirled with a mixture of surprise and understanding. Though he had not anticipated this particular revelation, he couldn't deny the complexities of human desires and affections. However, he made a conscious decision to respect Rhaenyra's privacy and not delve further into the matter.

With a subtle withdrawal from her thoughts, Jaehaerys maintained his composure, his expression betraying nothing of what he had discovered. He returned his focus to the conversation at hand, nodding along as Rhaenyra expressed her support for the proposed marriage alliance.

Meanwhile, Viserys, upon hearing Rhaenyra's reply, offered her a grateful nod. "Thank you, Rhaenyra," he said, his voice tinged with appreciation. "Your loyalty to our house and the realm does not go unnoticed. Your willingness to sacrifice for the greater good is commendable."

As Viserys turned to Jaehaerys, his gaze searching for reassurance, Jaehaerys couldn't help but feel the weight of the decision ahead. Thoughts of Rhaenyra's unspoken attraction to Laena lingered in his mind, adding another layer of complexity to the situation.

But beyond personal feelings, Jaehaerys understood the strategic importance of a marriage alliance with House Velaryon. The prospect of uniting their houses and securing the loyalty of such a powerful ally was undeniable. And considering Laena's formidable reputation as the rider of Vhagar, it added another dimension to the potential benefits of the alliance.

With a measured breath, Jaehaerys met his father's gaze, his own resolve firm. "If it is what is required of me for the stability of our house and the realm, then I will honor it," he replied, his voice steady despite the tumult of thoughts swirling in his mind. "Our family's prosperity and the continuity of our lineage must always come first."

Viserys nodded, a sense of relief evident in his expression. "Thank you, Jaehaerys," he said, his tone sincere. "Your willingness to shoulder this responsibility speaks volumes of your dedication to our family and the realm."

As the weight of their conversation settled upon them, Jaehaerys couldn't shake the sense of uncertainty that lingered in the air. But he knew that they would face whatever challenges lay ahead together, guided by the shared commitment to protect their family and uphold the legacy of House Targaryen.

—

In Jaehaerys' chambers, the atmosphere was charged with a sense of urgency as Jaehaerys and Daemon engaged in a private discussion. Jaehaerys, his brow furrowed with curiosity, turned to Daemon with a direct question.

"Why did you suggest the idea of me marrying Laena?" Jaehaerys inquired, his tone tinged with a mix of intrigue and apprehension. "There must be more to it than just securing an alliance with House Velaryon."

Daemon met Jaehaerys' gaze with a steady resolve, his expression betraying little of his inner thoughts. "Indeed, brother," he replied, his voice measured. "The alliance with House Velaryon is undoubtedly crucial, but there are other factors at play."

He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts before continuing. "Laena's connection to Vhagar, the formidable dragon she rides, is not to be underestimated," Daemon explained, his tone grave. "With her by your side, you would have a powerful ally both on the battlefield and in the political arena."

Daemon's words resonated with Jaehaerys as he considered the broader implications of marrying Laena. Not only would it strengthen their military might with the formidable Vhagar at their disposal, but it also presented an opportunity to mend the rift with House Velaryon.

Jaehaerys nodded thoughtfully, acknowledging the gravity of Daemon's insight. "You're right," he conceded, his voice reflecting a newfound determination. "Marrying Laena would not only secure our alliance with House Velaryon but also offer us a powerful ally in our efforts to maintain stability within the realm."

He paused, his mind racing with the strategic advantages of such a union. "And with Corlys's ambitions for his blood to be seated on the throne in the future, this could be a way to appease him and ensure the continuity of his legacy," Jaehaerys added, his tone resolute.

Daemon couldn't help but chuckle, a playful glint in his eye. "And my final reason, my dear brother Jaehaerys, is that perhaps you need a Harem to ensure the continuity of your magical legacy," he quipped, his tone teasing yet affectionate. "Who knows, maybe one of my grandchildren will inherit your extraordinary abilities someday."

Their banter provided a brief moment of lightness amidst the weighty discussions of alliances and legacies. It was a reminder of the bond between brothers, and the ability to find humor even in the most serious of circumstances. As they continued to strategize and plan for the future, Daemon's jest served as a reminder of the enduring strength of their familial ties.

—

In the quiet serenity of the Godswood, Jaehaerys and Rhaenyra found solace beneath the ancient Weirwood tree, its gnarled branches offering shelter from the outside world. Here, amidst the whispers of the leaves and the soft rustle of the wind, they sought a moment of respite from the weight of their responsibilities.

As they settled on the moss-covered ground, Jaehaerys turned to Rhaenyra, his expression gentle yet earnest. "Rhaenyra," he began, his voice soft yet firm, "there is something I must discuss with you, and I ask that you be open and honest with me in return."

Rhaenyra met his gaze, her eyes reflecting the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy above. She nodded, a sense of curiosity mingling with apprehension in her features.

"It concerns the proposal of marrying Laena Velaryon," Jaehaerys continued, his words measured. "I understand the gravity of such a decision, and I value your thoughts and feelings on the matter."

He reached out, his hand finding hers in a gesture of solidarity. "Rhaenyra, I need to know how you truly feel about this," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "Your perspective is invaluable to me, and whatever decision we make, I want it to be one we both can stand by.”

Rhaenyra took a deep breath, her gaze steady as she met Jaehaerys's earnest expression. "Jaehaerys," she began, her voice carrying a mixture of vulnerability and determination, "the idea of marrying Laena Velaryon... it's a lot to process."

She paused, gathering her thoughts before continuing. "On one hand, I understand the strategic advantages of such an alliance," she explained, her tone thoughtful. "House Velaryon is a powerful house, and securing their loyalty could prove invaluable, especially with Laena's connection to Vhagar."

"But," she continued, her voice growing softer, "it's also a daunting prospect. Marrying someone I barely know, with whom I share no personal connection... it's hard to imagine what that would entail."

Rhaenyra glanced down at their intertwined hands, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features. "And then there's the matter of... well, my feelings," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've always been drawn to both men and women, and while I've never felt pressured to conform to societal expectations, the idea of marrying a woman I may not love in that way... it's... complicated."

Rhaenyra's admission hung in the air, her vulnerability echoing through the quiet sanctuary of the Godswood. Jaehaerys listened intently, his heart heavy with the weight of her words.

He reached out, gently lifting her chin to meet his gaze, his eyes filled with understanding and compassion. "Rhaenyra," he said softly, his voice laced with empathy, "your feelings are valid, and your honesty is appreciated."

He paused, searching for the right words to convey his support. "I want you to know that you are not alone in this," he continued, his tone reassuring. "Whatever path we choose, I will stand by you, and we will face whatever challenges come our way together."

With a tender squeeze of her hand, Jaehaerys offered Rhaenyra a small smile, a silent reassurance of his unwavering commitment to her. In that moment beneath the Weirwood tree, surrounded by the whispers of the old gods, they found solace in each other's presence, united in their shared journey forward.

—

As the group gathered at the gates, anticipation hung in the air like a tangible veil. Daemon stood at the forefront, his expression a mix of eagerness and apprehension, as he awaited the arrival of his beloved wife, Lady Rhea Royce of Runestone.

Beside him stood Jaehaerys and Rhaenyra, their presence a silent show of support for their uncle in this momentous occasion. Vaelar, Garth, Myrcella, and Melony completed the group, their faces alight with curiosity and excitement.

As the gates swung open, revealing the approaching entourage, a wave of anticipation swept through the gathered crowd. And then, amidst a flurry of activity and the sound of hooves against cobblestones, Lady Rhea Royce emerged, her regal presence commanding attention.

Daemon's eyes lit up at the sight of his wife, a smile breaking across his face as he moved forward to greet her. "Rhea," he exclaimed, his voice filled with warmth and affection, "welcome home."

Rhea's own smile mirrored his as she descended from her horse, her eyes alight with joy at the sight of her husband. "Daemon," she replied, her voice soft yet filled with love, "it's good to be back."

As they embraced, the rest of the group watched on, their hearts warmed by the reunion unfolding before them. In that moment, amidst the hustle and bustle of the welcoming party, they found solace in the bonds of family and friendship that united them, knowing that together, they could overcome whatever challenges lay ahead.

—

As the group gathered at the gates, anticipation hung heavy in the air, tinged with a sense of unease. Daemon stood at the forefront, his posture tense as he awaited the arrival of his estranged wife, Lady Rhea Royce of Runestone.

Beside him stood Jaehaerys and Rhaenyra, their presence offering silent support to their uncle in this fraught moment. Vaelar, Garth, Myrcella, and Melony completed the group, their expressions a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

As the gates swung open, revealing the approaching entourage, a hush fell over the gathered crowd. Amidst the flurry of activity and the sound of hooves, Lady Rhea Royce emerged, her arrival casting a palpable tension over the scene.

Daemon's eyes met Rhea's, his smile strained as he moved forward to greet her. "Rhea," he greeted, his voice tight with uncertainty, "welcome."

As Rhea dismounted from her horse, there was a palpable tension in the air between her and Daemon. Their relationship had always been strained, marred by the circumstances that had led to their marriage against their will. Forced together by the demands of their families and the political machinations of the realm, they had never truly had the chance to forge a connection based on mutual respect and affection.

Their interactions were often marked by awkwardness and distance, with both of them struggling to navigate the complexities of their situation. Despite their initial reluctance, however, there had been recent attempts to make their marriage work. They had begun to communicate more openly, seeking common ground and understanding in the midst of their shared predicament.

Yet, despite the lingering scars of their forced union, there was a glimmer of hope for reconciliation in their recent interactions. Daemon and Rhea had tentatively begun to address the underlying issues that had plagued their marriage, seeking to heal the wounds of their past and move forward together.

In quiet moments away from prying eyes, they had shared candid conversations, opening up about their fears, regrets, and hopes for the future. They had started to acknowledge the pain and resentment that had festered between them, taking tentative steps towards forgiveness and understanding.

Though the road to reconciliation was fraught with uncertainty, both Daemon and Rhea were determined to confront their demons and rebuild what had been broken. They harbored a cautious optimism, willing to put in the hard work and effort required to salvage their relationship from the ashes of their past mistakes.

Despite there being a shadow of doubt that lingered, they clung to the hope that with time and patience, they could overcome the obstacles that stood between them and forge a new path forward, together.

Chapter Text

The day before the arrival of the candidates for the Scarlet Shadows, anticipation and nervousness hung thick in the air. Rhaenyra could hardly focus on anything else, her thoughts consumed by the impending visit of the Velaryon family. It had been a long time since she had last seen them, not since the somber occasion of her mother, Queen Aemma's funeral.

Standing at the gates of the Red Keep, the welcoming party included Jaehaerys, Rhaenyra, Daemon, Rhea, Vaelar, Garth, Myrcella, and Melony. Lord Corlys Velaryon was already present, his eyes bright with eagerness to be reunited with his family. The sky overhead was clear, save for the three approaching dragons: Meleys, the Red Queen, ridden by Rhaenys Targaryen Velaryon; Seasmoke, with Laenor Velaryon astride; and Vhagar, the ancient and formidable dragon, carrying Laena Velaryon.

The dragons landed gracefully in the courtyard, their massive forms dwarfing everything around them. The Velaryons dismounted, and the party approached the welcoming group with regal poise.

Jaehaerys stepped forward to greet them, his presence commanding attention. "Lady Rhaenys, Laena, Laenor," he said, his voice warm and welcoming. "It's an honor to have you here."

Rhaenys, with her characteristic poise, nodded in acknowledgment. "Prince Jaehaerys, it's good to see you again under more pleasant circumstances."

As Laena's eyes fell upon Jaehaerys, she felt a flutter of excitement. There he stood, the rider of Gaelithox, the only dragon larger than her own Vhagar. The beginnings of a crush stirred within her, yet she was acutely aware of his betrothal to Rhaenyra, to whom she also felt an inexplicable attraction.

Laena smiled, a touch of shyness in her expression. "Prince Jaehaerys," she greeted softly, her gaze lingering on him.

Rhaenyra stepped forward, her heart pounding. "Welcome to the Red Keep," she said, her voice steady despite her nerves. "It's been too long."

Rhaenys gave Rhaenyra a warm smile. "Indeed, it has, Princess. We've missed you."

Laenor, ever the charmer, added, "The Red Keep looks even grander than I remembered. And you, Rhaenyra, have grown into a fine young woman."

Rhaenyra blushed slightly at the compliment. "Thank you, Laenor. And you seem to have grown more charming with time."

At that moment, Corlys stepped forward, his face breaking into a broad smile as he saw his family. "Rhaenys, Laena, Laenor," he greeted, his voice filled with warmth. "It's been too long."

Rhaenys smiled back at her husband, her eyes twinkling with affection. "Corlys, it’s good to be back."

Daemon, standing beside Rhea, couldn't help but notice the awkwardness between his wife and the guests. Determined to ease the tension, he stepped forward. "Rhaenys, it's good to see you again cousin. And to meet your dragons once more," he said with a grin.

Rhea, standing close to Daemon, managed a polite smile. "Welcome," she said, her tone courteous but distant.

Vaelar, Garth, Myrcella, and Melony watched the interactions with interest, understanding the significance of the Velaryon family's visit. They knew this meeting was more than just a reunion; it was a step towards forging stronger alliances.

As the formal greetings concluded, Jaehaerys led the group towards the interior of the Red Keep. "We have much to discuss and catch up on. Please, join us inside," he invited.

As they walked, Laena found herself walking beside Rhaenyra. "The last time we met was at the funeral," Laena said softly, her eyes reflecting a mixture of sorrow and warmth.

Rhaenyra nodded, her heart aching at the memory. "Yes, it was a difficult time for all of us. I'm glad we can meet under better circumstances now."

Laena smiled, a hint of something more in her eyes. "I'm looking forward to spending more time with you, Rhaenyra."

Rhaenyra returned the smile, feeling a strange but pleasant flutter in her chest. "As am I, Laena."

As the group made their way into the Red Keep, the air buzzed with the promise of new alliances and the rekindling of old friendships, setting the stage for the days to come.

—

As the group settled in a grand hall for some refreshments, the servants moved efficiently, ensuring everyone had a drink and a plate of delicacies. The atmosphere was one of cautious optimism, each person keenly aware of the significance of this gathering. Conversations were polite, if a bit restrained, with old acquaintances being renewed and new bonds forming.

The doors opened, and King Viserys entered the hall, his presence commanding immediate attention. He walked with a purposeful stride towards his cousin Rhaenys, a warm smile breaking across his face. The tension that once marked their relationship, stemming from their rivalry for the Iron Throne, seemed to have softened over time.

"Cousin," Viserys greeted warmly, extending his hands to Rhaenys. "It has been far too long."

Rhaenys stood, her demeanor regal and composed. "Indeed, it has, Your Grace," she replied, a genuine smile gracing her lips as she took his hands. "It's good to see you."

Viserys' smile widened, his eyes reflecting the relief and happiness he felt at this reunion. "And you, as well, Rhaenys. Please, sit. We have much to discuss and celebrate."

As they took their seats, Viserys addressed the group, his tone genial. "Welcome, all of you. It is a pleasure to have you here at the Red Keep. Our family has faced many challenges, but gatherings like this remind me of the strength and unity we possess."

Corlys, seated beside his wife, nodded appreciatively. "Thank you, Your Grace. It is good to be here, and we are honored by your hospitality."

Viserys turned to Jaehaerys and Rhaenyra, his gaze softening with familial pride. "And have you both been showing proper Targaryen hospitality to our esteemed guests?"

Jaehaerys smiled, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Of course, brother. We have ensured that everything is prepared to the highest standards."

Rhaenyra, her earlier nerves dissipating, added, "We've done our best to make everyone feel welcome and strengthen our bonds with our extended family.”

Viserys' eyes twinkled with approval. "Good, good. And you, Laena, Laenor? How was your journey?"

Laenor, ever the diplomat, answered first. "It was smooth, Your Grace. Seasmoke enjoyed the flight."

Laena, still slightly shy but encouraged by the welcoming atmosphere, added, "Vhagar too. It’s wonderful to be here."

Viserys' gaze lingered on Laena, noticing her budding confidence. "Your presence adds great strength to our house, Laena. Vhagar is a mighty ally."

Laena blushed slightly, nodding in acknowledgment. "Thank you, Your Grace."

Rhaenys took this moment to address Viserys directly. "It is clear that you have been taking great care of the realm, Viserys. The Red Keep is as magnificent as ever."

Viserys chuckled softly. "I do my best, with the support of my family and council." He glanced at Corlys, his expression turning serious for a moment. "Speaking of support, Corlys, your contributions to the realm are invaluable. Your leadership and the strength of House Velaryon are deeply appreciated."

Corlys inclined his head, a hint of pride in his eyes. "Thank you, Your Grace. We all strive for the prosperity and stability of the realm."

The conversation flowed smoothly, the initial tension giving way to a more relaxed and congenial atmosphere. As they shared stories and laughter, the bonds between them strengthened, setting a hopeful tone for the future.

As the evening progressed, Viserys decided it was time to broach the subject that had brought the entire Velaryon clan to King's Landing. He cleared his throat, drawing the group's attention.

"My dear family," Viserys began, his tone serious yet warm, "I have called you all here to discuss a matter of great importance to our house and the realm."

Lord Corlys and Rhaenys exchanged a glance, both of them expecting a proposal for Laena's betrothal to the king. They had long hoped for such a union to solidify their family's standing.

"I know this may come as a surprise," Viserys continued, his gaze sweeping over the gathered family, "but I believe it is time to discuss the future of our house and the potential alliances that will strengthen our claim to the throne and ensure the stability of the realm."

Rhaenys, ever perceptive, leaned forward slightly, her expression a mix of curiosity and expectation. "What exactly do you propose, Your Grace?" she asked, her eyes flicking briefly to Laena.

Viserys took a deep breath, his eyes meeting Jaehaerys's. "I propose a betrothal between Jaehaerys and Laena Velaryon," he announced, the words hanging in the air for a moment. "In addition to his existing betrothal to Rhaenyra."

Lord Corlys and Rhaenys exchanged surprised looks, clearly having anticipated a different proposal. Laena, sitting between her parents, felt a rush of mixed emotions – surprise, excitement, and a burgeoning hope. She stole a glance at Jaehaerys, whose calm demeanor gave her a sense of reassurance.

Jaehaerys nodded solemnly. "I am prepared to fulfill my duty to the realm and to our family," he said, his voice steady. "If this union is what is best for us all, then I am willing to embrace it."

Rhaenyra, feeling a renewed sense of determination and understanding the strategic importance of this alliance, added, "We must do what is necessary to secure our future. Together, we can ensure the strength and legacy of our house."

The room fell silent for a moment as everyone absorbed the weight of Viserys's proposal. Finally, Lord Corlys spoke, his voice measured. "Your Grace, this is indeed a significant proposal. If it strengthens the realm and unites our families, then we are willing to consider it."

Rhaenys nodded in agreement, her expression thoughtful. "For the good of the realm and our family's future, we will discuss this further and reach a decision that benefits us all."

Secretly, Corlys was extremely happy at this turn of events. He had worked closely with Jaehaerys since the prince's arrival from Essos and held a deep respect for the young Targaryen's capabilities and vision. This betrothal would not only secure his family's legacy but also align them with a leader he truly believed in.

Viserys, sensing the underlying currents of approval, allowed himself a small smile. "I am glad we are in agreement," he said, his voice warm with relief. "Together, we can build a stronger future for our house and the realm."

As the conversation shifted back to lighter topics, the atmosphere remained charged with the promise of the future. Laena, feeling both nervous and hopeful, looked again at Jaehaerys. She found comfort in his calm demeanor and felt a flicker of excitement at the prospect of their union.

Rhaenyra, observing the interactions, felt a sense of relief as well. The alliance, though complex, seemed to be accepted by all parties involved. She knew that her role would be crucial in the days to come, but for now, she felt a renewed sense of purpose and determination.

As the evening drew to a close, the family members began to retire to their respective quarters, their minds buzzing with the implications of the proposed betrothal. Viserys watched them go, his heart lighter than it had been in days. This was a step towards securing the legacy he and his predecessors had fought so hard to build.

In the quiet of the night, as each person reflected on the day's events, a sense of unity and shared purpose settled over the Red Keep. The path ahead was uncertain, but together, they would face whatever challenges came their way, bound by blood, duty, and the promise of a stronger future.

—

In the privacy of the King's chambers, Rhaenys, Corlys, and Viserys hashed out the finer details of the proposed betrothal. Their voices were low and measured as they discussed the alliance, the benefits to both houses, and the expectations that would come with it. It was a delicate negotiation, but one that held the promise of strengthening the realm.

Meanwhile, Vaelar and Garth, along with Myrcella and Melony, kept Laenor occupied in conversation. Their laughter and animated discussions filled the hall, providing a lively distraction. Laenor, always the center of attention, seemed to enjoy their company, oblivious to the serious talks taking place elsewhere.

Daemon and Rhea, on the other hand, were too engrossed in their own dance of unresolved issues and undeniable attraction to notice much else. Their interactions were a mix of sharp words and lingering glances, a testament to their complicated relationship. Though their past had been fraught with tension, there was an undercurrent of hope for reconciliation, a spark that refused to be extinguished.

This left Jaehaerys, Rhaenyra, and Laena to engage each other in conversation. They found a quiet corner of the hall, away from the hustle and bustle, where they could speak more freely.

Jaehaerys was the first to break the silence. "Laena, I hope you are finding King's Landing to your liking," he said, his tone warm and inviting.

Laena smiled, her eyes flickering with curiosity. "It is quite different from Driftmark, but it has its own charm. And the presence of so many dragons is always a comfort," she replied, her gaze lingering on Jaehaerys.

Rhaenyra, sensing the underlying attraction Laena held for Jaehaerys, decided to steer the conversation into safer waters. "I've heard you are a formidable dragonrider, Laena. Vhagar is truly magnificent," she said, her voice filled with genuine admiration.

Laena's smile widened at the compliment. "Thank you, Rhaenyra. Vhagar is a loyal companion and a great source of strength. I have heard much about Gaelithox as well. He must be quite the sight," she said, her eyes now turning to Jaehaerys.

Jaehaerys nodded, a proud smile touching his lips. "Gaelithox is indeed a mighty dragon. I feel honored to ride him," he said, his gaze meeting Laena's. There was a moment of shared understanding, a recognition of the bond they both shared with their dragons.

Rhaenyra, watching the exchange, felt a mix of emotions. She was relieved to see the potential for a harmonious relationship between them, yet she couldn't ignore the flutter of uncertainty within her own heart. "It's comforting to know that we all share this connection," she said softly. "Our dragons are a reflection of our strength and unity."

Laena nodded in agreement, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Indeed, Rhaenyra. And together, we can achieve great things," she said, her voice filled with conviction.

As they continued to talk, the initial awkwardness gave way to a more genuine connection. Jaehaerys, Rhaenyra, and Laena found common ground in their shared experiences and aspirations, their conversation flowing with ease. They spoke of their hopes for the future, their dreams of a united realm, and the roles they would play in shaping it.

In that quiet corner of the hall, amidst the laughter and conversations around them, a new bond began to form. It was a bond forged in understanding, respect, and the promise of a stronger future.

—

As Otto Hightower sat in the Small Council chamber, his thoughts turned to the challenges posed by Prince Jaehaerys' recent actions. Since his return from Essos and his elevation to the role of heir, Jaehaerys had proven to be a formidable adversary, adept at maneuvering through the intricacies of court politics and wielding his newfound influence with finesse.

The repeal of the tax law that had funneled funds to the Starry Sept in Oldtown was a significant blow to Otto's plans. He had worked tirelessly to ensure the passage of that law, knowing full well the benefits it would bring to House Hightower and bolster their standing in the realm. Jaehaerys' swift action to overturn it had caught him off guard, undermining years of careful plotting and scheming.

Similarly, Jaehaerys' efforts to address the issue of the Triarchy in the Stepstones had further complicated matters. Otto had been content to downplay the severity of the situation, knowing that it indirectly benefited House Hightower's interests. However, Jaehaerys' coalition-building and appeal to the king had forced Otto to confront the realities of the situation and reconsider his approach.

As Hand of the King, Otto Hightower prided himself on his ability to navigate the complex web of alliances and rivalries that defined court politics. Yet, Jaehaerys' actions had tested his skills to their limits, forcing him to adapt and recalibrate his strategies in the face of unexpected challenges.

At times, Otto couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that Jaehaerys could read his mind. The prince's penetrating gaze seemed to bore into his soul, leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable. It was a notion that Otto dismissed as absurd, even for someone as seemingly adept in the arcane arts as Jaehaerys. 

However, the tales of "The Dragon Mage" lingered in Otto's mind, whispered rumors of Jaehaerys' supposed magical abilities that had been passed down through the years. As a devout man raised in the faith of the Seven, Otto had been taught to view magic as unnatural and corrupting, a force to be feared and shunned. While he personally harbored doubts about such beliefs, they still colored his perception of Jaehaerys, fueling his mistrust and wariness of the prince.

However, as Otto grappled with his mistrust of Jaehaerys and the unsettling rumors surrounding the prince's alleged magical abilities, he found solace in the progress of his own schemes. The intricate web of manipulation he had woven around Viserys and Alicent was nearing fruition, each carefully calculated move bringing him closer to his ultimate goal.

Despite his reservations about magic, Otto couldn't deny the efficacy of his own machinations. The prospect of Alicent becoming queen filled him with a sense of triumph, a testament to his skill and cunning in navigating the treacherous waters of court politics. And with Viserys seemingly oblivious to the true nature of his advisor's intentions, Otto was confident that his plans would come to fruition sooner rather than later.

As he sat in the small council chamber, Otto allowed himself a rare moment of satisfaction. The pieces were falling into place, and soon he would hold the reins of power firmly in his grasp. All that remained was for Viserys to make the announcement, cementing Alicent's place by his side and solidifying Otto's position as the true power behind the throne.

—

As the small council chamber began to fill with its members, Otto Hightower observed with keen interest. The absence of Lord Corlys, a notable figure within the council, had initially caught his attention. However, his intrigue deepened as he noted the arrival of the entire Targaryen and Velaryon clans, with Lord Corlys among them.

The unexpected presence of both the Targaryens and Velaryons, along with Lord Corlys, stirred Otto's curiosity. Such a gathering held significance, and Otto's mind raced with possibilities as he contemplated the implications of their collective presence.

As the council session commenced and discussions unfolded, Otto remained vigilant, his attention divided between the matters at hand and the enigmatic assembly before him. He watched and listened intently, determined to uncover the purpose behind this unusual convergence of noble houses.

Otto's keen observation didn't miss the satisfied expression on Lord Corlys' face. The sight piqued his curiosity, prompting him to wonder about the source of Corlys' contentment.

As the council session progressed, Otto's mind raced with possibilities, considering various scenarios that could have led to Lord Corlys' apparent satisfaction. Could it be related to the recent discussions about alliances and marriages within the noble houses? Or perhaps there were other political maneuvers at play that Otto had yet to uncover.

Whatever the reason, Otto made a mental note to keep a close eye on Lord Corlys and the unfolding events within the small council chamber. There was more to this gathering than met the eye, and Otto was determined to uncover the truth behind Corlys' satisfied expression.

—-

The small council chamber fell into a hushed silence as Viserys' announcement reverberated through the room. His words carried both gravity and surprise, catching the assembled members off guard. After a suitable pause, Viserys continued, his voice steady yet tinged with emotion.

"As you all know, since the passing of my beloved wife, Queen Aemma, I have mourned her loss deeply," Viserys began, his gaze sweeping over the gathered councilors. "However, in the midst of grief, life must go on. It is with a heavy yet hopeful heart that I announce my intention to remarry."

The announcement sparked a flurry of murmurs and exchanged glances among the council members, each processing the news in their own way.

As Viserys' words settled over the room, Otto's heart swelled with a mixture of satisfaction and triumph. This was the culmination of his carefully laid plans, the moment he had been working towards since the inception of his scheme. The realization that his daughter, Alicent, would soon sit beside the king as queen filled him with a sense of vindication.

Amidst the murmurs and exchanged glances that rippled through the chamber, Otto maintained a composed facade, his expression one of serene confidence. This was the moment he had been waiting for, the fruition of his efforts to secure his family's position at the pinnacle of power.

As Viserys' words echoed in the room, confirming Lady Alicent's elevation to the highest echelons of society, Otto's mind raced with plans and contingencies. He knew that this was just the beginning, the opening move in a complex game of politics and intrigue. Yet, he was prepared to navigate the challenges ahead with the skill and cunning befitting the Hand of the King.

With a subtle nod of acknowledgment towards Viserys, Otto silently pledged his unwavering support, ready to guide the king and his new queen through the turbulent waters of courtly life. As the small council convened to discuss the details of the impending union, Otto's mind buzzed with anticipation, knowing that the wheels of destiny had been set in motion, and that his daughter's ascent to the throne was now all but assured.

And in a private moment, as father to Alicent, Otto graciously accepted the betrothal, his chest swelling with pride for his daughter's forthcoming role as queen.

However, his moment of triumph was fleeting.

"As the King, I have spent considerable time considering the future of our realm and the stability of our dynasty," Viserys began, his tone steady and authoritative. "After much reflection and consultation with my family, I am pleased to announce the betrothal of Jaehaerys and Rhaenyra to Laena Velaryon under the Doctrine of Exceptionalism."

The declaration reverberated through the chamber, eliciting a mix of surprise and curiosity from the assembled councilors. Otto Hightower, in particular, felt a pang of unease at the unexpected twist in Viserys' announcement. While he maintained his composed exterior, his mind raced with implications and potential ramifications for his own plans.

"With this union," Viserys continued, his voice resonating with authority, "we not only cement the bonds between House Targaryen and House Velaryon but also ensure the continuity and strength of our dynasty for generations to come."

As Viserys' decree echoed through the chamber, a sense of anticipation mingled with apprehension gripped the assembled councilors. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, each syllable carrying the promise of profound change and enduring legacy.

"Furthermore," Viserys continued, his voice commanding attention, "I decree that the firstborn son of Jaehaerys and Laena shall be named the new Warden of the Narrow Sea, after the conquest of the Stepstones is complete. He will be tasked with safeguarding our eastern borders and securing our maritime interests."

The proclamation sent ripples of reaction through the room, eliciting murmurs of approval and speculation among the councilors. For Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King, the implications of Viserys' decree sparked a flurry of calculations and considerations. It was a strategic move, one that would not only bolster the Targaryen-Velaryon alliance but also solidify their control over vital sea routes, ensuring the security and prosperity of the realm.

Yet, even as Otto grappled with the ramifications of Viserys' decree, another revelation hung in the air, adding another layer of complexity to an already intricate web of alliances and obligations.

"Furthermore," Viserys continued, his tone resolute, "a daughter borne by Laena shall marry the firstborn son of Jaehaerys and Rhaenyra, thus securing her place as the future queen of Westeros."

The announcement sent shockwaves through the chamber, as councilors exchanged startled glances and whispered discussions erupted among them. For Otto, the revelation carried profound implications, challenging the very fabric of his carefully laid plans and alliances.

As the small council chamber buzzed with discussion, Otto Hightower found himself lost in thought, his mind consumed by the implications of Viserys' decrees. While his plan to elevate his daughter, Alicent, to the throne had seemingly come to fruition, another announcement had upended his carefully constructed ambitions.

Jaehaerys Targaryen loomed large in Otto's mind, a shadow cast over his designs for the future of House Hightower. Despite his best efforts to outmaneuver the prince, Jaehaerys' influence and actions had proven to be formidable obstacles, thwarting Otto's attempts to secure his family's position at the apex of power.

Now, with the succession seemingly secure through the betrothal of Jaehaerys and Rhaenyra to Laena Velaryon, Otto grappled with the realization that his hopes of placing his blood on the Iron Throne had been dashed. The future of House Hightower hung in the balance, its ambitions and aspirations at the mercy of ever-shifting alliances and allegiances.

Yet, even in the face of adversity, Otto remained resolute. He was a master of courtly intrigue, a man whose cunning and guile had propelled him to the highest echelons of power. If anyone could navigate the treacherous currents of court politics, it was him.

As Otto's gaze met Jaehaerys', the unsettling feeling returned, a sense of unease that he couldn't quite shake. Little did he know that his instincts were right on the mark. Unbeknownst to Otto, Jaehaerys possessed a unique ability—one that allowed him to delve into the depths of another's mind and pluck out their thoughts as easily as one might pluck a ripe fruit from a tree.

As the small council chamber buzzed with discussion, Jaehaerys focused his attention on Otto, his mind reaching out like tendrils of smoke to probe the depths of the Hand's thoughts. With each passing moment, he gleaned insights into Otto's schemes and machinations, unraveling the intricate web of plots that the Hand had woven.

Chapter Text

The day of the tourney arrives, and the anticipation in King's Landing is palpable. The city buzzes with excitement as people from all corners of the realm gather to witness the grand event in honor of Jaehaerys becoming the new Heir to the Iron Throne.

The tourney grounds are a spectacle of colors, with banners fluttering in the wind and the sound of cheering crowds filling the air. Knights in shining armor prepare their steeds, while archers test their bows in anticipation of the archery contest. 

In a secluded area of the tourney grounds, a special mêlée for women is about to begin. This event is invitation-only, and the participants have been carefully selected for possible recruitment into the elite group known as the "Scarlet Shadows." 

The women chosen for the contest are formidable fighters, each with her own unique skills and talents. Some are skilled swordswomen, while others are expert archers, but all share a fierce determination to prove themselves in the male-dominated world of knightly combat.

As the contestants prepare for the challenge ahead, the atmosphere is charged with excitement and anticipation. The crowd eagerly awaits the start of the contest, curious to see who will emerge victorious and earn a coveted place among the Scarlet Shadows.

Among the contestants, there is Alysanne Rivers, the fierce warrior from the Riverlands, her eyes burning with determination as she adjusts her armor. Standing beside her is Elinor Harlaw, the skilled swordswoman from the Iron Islands, her movements fluid and graceful as she checks the balance of her weapon.

Nearby, Lyra Mormont, the towering shieldmaiden from Bear Island, stands tall and resolute, her sword gleaming in the sunlight as she surveys the competition with steely resolve. Ysilla Blackwood, the seasoned warrior from the Riverlands, stands nearby, her demeanor confident and unwavering as she prepares for battle.

Adding to the mix, Serenea Storm, a fierce fighter from the Stormlands, her dark eyes glinting with anticipation as she adjusts her helm. Beside her stands Meera Dondarrion, an agile and cunning fighter from the Stormlands, her movements quick and precise as she tests the string of her bow.

Also among the contenders is Sarya Stone, a formidable warrior from the Vale, her piercing gaze betraying a fierce determination to win. Nymeria Tarth, the skilled swordswoman from the Stormlands, stands with unwavering confidence nearby, her blade gleaming in the sunlight as she prepares to face her opponents.

Completing the lineup are Elara Redwyne, sister of Garth Redwyne, a cunning and resourceful fighter from the Reach, her eyes sharp and calculating as she assesses the battlefield. Beside her stands Ysabel Bracken, a skilled archer from the Riverlands, her bow at the ready as she awaits the signal to begin.

These ten women, carefully selected from across the realm, were the frontrunners in the competition. Jaehaerys and Daemon were positive they would be the final names for the Scarlet Shadows, a prestigious honor that awaited the victors of the day's contest. As they stood on the verge of battle, the air was charged with anticipation, and the crowd eagerly awaited the spectacle that was about to unfold.

—

As the anticipation reached its peak, King Viserys Targaryen was announced, and the audience fell into a hushed silence. All eyes turned to the king as he stood before them, his presence commanding respect and attention.

"Good people of the realm," Viserys began, his voice carrying through the air with authority and warmth. "Today, we gather to witness a display of skill, courage, and determination. These brave women have come from all corners of the realm to prove themselves in the mêlée and archery contest, vying for a chance to join the prestigious Scarlet Shadows."

The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, showing their support for the competitors. Viserys waited for the noise to subside before continuing.

"As they face each other in combat, let us remember the valor and strength of those who came before us. May the Seven watch over the contestants, and may the best among them emerge victorious."

With those words, Viserys stepped back, signaling the beginning of the contest. The audience watched with bated breath as the competitors prepared to demonstrate their skills and prowess in the upcoming challenges.

—

The mêlée began with a thunderous clash of weapons and the sound of armored combatants charging into battle. A total of 40 women, each skilled in their own right, faced off against one another in a fierce display of martial prowess.

Among them, Alysanne Rivers from the Riverlands moved with fluid grace, her swordsmanship a testament to her training and determination. Her every strike was precise, and her footwork was agile as she engaged her opponents with calculated precision, earning her admiration from the spectators.

Elinor Harlaw from the Iron Islands fought with ferocity, her axe swinging with deadly precision as she surged forward to meet her challengers. Each blow she delivered was powerful and unrelenting, her iron will driving her onward despite the resistance she faced.

Meanwhile, Lyra Mormont from Bear Island stood firm, her towering stature providing an imposing presence on the field. With her shield raised and her sword at the ready, she expertly parried the attacks of her opponents, her unwavering resolve inspiring those around her.

Ysilla Blackwood from the Riverlands moved with swift efficiency, her strikes calculated and precise as she defended herself against multiple opponents. With a keen eye and lightning-fast reflexes, she countered each attack with skill and finesse, proving herself to be a formidable adversary.

Serenea Storm from the Stormlands showcased her formidable skills, her blade cutting through the air with deadly accuracy. Her movements were graceful yet lethal, each swing of her sword aimed with deadly intent as she carved her way through the competition.

Meera Dondarrion from the Stormlands proved to be a nimble and elusive adversary, her archery skills keeping her out of harm's way as she picked off her opponents from a distance. With her bow in hand, she moved with the precision of a seasoned huntress, her arrows finding their marks with unerring accuracy.

Sarya Stone from the Vale fought with unwavering determination, her skill in combat evident as she held her ground against her challengers. Despite the relentless onslaught of attacks, she remained resolute, her unwavering focus and determination driving her onward.

Nymeria Tarth from the Stormlands displayed unmatched swordsmanship, her every move calculated and deliberate as she deftly parried and countered her opponents' attacks. With her family's ancestral blade in hand, she moved with the grace and precision of a true warrior, earning the respect of all who witnessed her skill.

Elara Redwyne from the Reach fought with strategic cunning, her tactical maneuvers allowing her to outmaneuver her opponents with ease. With a keen understanding of the battlefield, she exploited her opponents' weaknesses with calculated precision, turning the tide of battle in her favor.

Ysabel Bracken from the Riverlands proved to be a skilled archer, her arrows finding their mark with deadly accuracy as she took down her adversaries from afar. With each shot, she demonstrated her mastery of the bow, her keen eye and steady hand ensuring that none of her targets escaped her aim.

As the mêlée unfolded, Jaehaerys, Daemon, Rhea, Vaelar, Myrcella, Garth, and Laenor watched from the stands, their eyes trained on the action below. They observed the performances of the ten women with keen interest, discussing and analyzing each move and maneuver with a mixture of admiration and excitement, fully aware that among these warriors lay the future members of the Scarlet Shadows.

"Look at Alysanne Rivers, she's a force to be reckoned with," Jaehaerys remarked, his gaze following the agile movements of the Riverlands warrior.

Daemon nodded in agreement. "Indeed, her skill with a sword is quite impressive. She may very well earn her place among the Scarlet Shadows."

Meanwhile, Rhea's attention was drawn to Elinor Harlaw's formidable display. "Elinor fights with the ferocity of the Ironborn," she noted, her voice tinged with admiration. "She's not one to be underestimated."

Vaelar, his eyes sharp and focused, observed the combatants with a critical eye. "Lyra Mormont's defense is impeccable," he observed, nodding approvingly. "She's holding her ground admirably."

Myrcella, ever curious, turned her attention to Ysilla Blackwood's swift movements. "Ysilla's agility is remarkable," she commented, marveling at the Riverlands warrior's ability to evade her opponents' strikes with ease.

Garth, watching intently, couldn't help but be impressed by his sister Elara Redwyne's skillful swordplay. "Elara is a formidable fighter," he remarked, his eyes tracking her every move. "Her technique is flawless."

Laenor, with a grin of excitement, watched as Meera Dondarrion expertly picked off her opponents with her bow. "Meera's marksmanship is unparalleled," he observed, a note of awe in his voice. "She's a force to be reckoned with."

As the mêlée raged on, the spectators in the stands continued to discuss and analyze the performances of the ten women, fully aware that among these warriors lay the future members of the Scarlet Shadows.

—

As the mêlée unfolded below, Otto Hightower sat beside his daughter, Alicent, his expression a mixture of concern and disapproval. He leaned in close to her, his voice low and measured. 

"Alicent, do you see what's happening here?" he whispered, his gaze fixed on the combatants. "This... this is not how things are meant to be. Women fighting, engaging in such... unladylike activities. It's simply not proper."

Alicent, aware of her father's traditional views, listened quietly, though her eyes betrayed a hint of intrigue. "Father, perhaps Prince Jaehaerys sees the value in empowering women," she offered cautiously, careful not to contradict him outright.

Otto shook his head, his disapproval evident. "Empowering women? Nonsense," he replied, his voice tinged with frustration. "This is not the way of our ancestors. It's a disruption, a deviation from tradition."

Alicent, though respectful of her father's opinions, couldn't help but feel a spark of curiosity about the changes Jaehaerys was bringing about. She knew that in the ever-shifting landscape of court politics, adaptability was key, and she couldn't help but wonder what other transformations lay on the horizon.

—-

As the mêlée reached its final stages, the intensity of the battle surged to new heights. The ten chosen warriors faced off against each other, their skill and determination on full display for the audience to witness. Each combatant fought with unmatched ferocity, refusing to yield even an inch to her opponents.

Alysanne Rivers from the Riverlands clashed swords with Elinor Harlaw from the Iron Islands, their blades meeting with resounding clangs as they exchanged blows with lightning speed. Nearby, Lyra Mormont from Bear Island engaged in a fierce duel with Ysilla Blackwood from the Riverlands, their swords flashing in the sunlight as they circled each other with calculated precision.

Serenea Storm from the Stormlands exhibited her formidable prowess, deflecting arrows and parrying strikes with expert precision, while Meera Dondarrion from the Stormlands showcased her agility and cunning, dodging attacks with graceful ease.

Sarya Stone from the Vale demonstrated her unparalleled strength and resilience, facing off against Nymeria Tarth from the Stormlands, whose skill with a sword was matched only by her unwavering determination.

In the heat of battle, Elara Redwyne from the Reach proved her mettle, her strategic prowess and swift reflexes guiding her through the chaos of combat. Alongside her, Ysabel Bracken from the Riverlands displayed her remarkable skill with a bow, her arrows finding their mark with deadly accuracy.

As the clash of steel and the sound of battle filled the air, the audience watched in awe, marveling at the tenacious spirit and indomitable courage of these remarkable women. It was a battle for the ages, a testament to the strength and resilience of the female warriors who refused to be underestimated.

As the clash of steel and the sound of battle filled the air, the audience watched in awe, marveling at the tenacious spirit and indomitable courage of these remarkable women. It was a battle for the ages, a testament to the strength and resilience of the female warriors who refused to be underestimated.

Exhaustion began to take its toll on the valiant combatants one by one, their bodies pushed to the limit by the fierce intensity of the mêlée. With each passing moment, the field dwindled until only two remained standing: Lyra Mormont and Sarya Stone.

Lyra Mormont, her face streaked with sweat and determination, wielded her sword with unwavering resolve, her movements a testament to the strength and skill of the women of Bear Island. Across from her, Sarya Stone stood firm, her piercing gaze fixed on her opponent, her grip on her weapon unwavering.

The two warriors circled each other warily, their breaths coming in ragged gasps as they prepared for the final showdown. With a mighty clash of steel, they lunged forward, their swords meeting in a dazzling display of skill and strength.

The battle raged on, each combatant refusing to yield to the other as they exchanged blow after blow in a relentless flurry of strikes and parries. The crowd watched in hushed anticipation, the tension in the air palpable as the two warriors fought with all the ferocity and determination they possessed.

As the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the field, the final blow was struck. With a resounding clash, Lyra Mormont's sword found its mark, and Sarya Stone fell to her knees, defeated but unbowed.

The crowd erupted into thunderous applause, cheering for the valiant efforts of both warriors, who had fought with unmatched courage and skill. And as Lyra Mormont raised her sword in triumph, the audience knew that they had witnessed a battle for the ages, a testament to the indomitable spirit of the women of Westeros.

—

After much deliberation by Jaehaerys and the rest, Viserys is informed of the decision by his younger brother. Jaehaerys leans in and whispers the decision into Viserys' ear, his expression resolute yet filled with a sense of pride.

Viserys listens intently to Jaehaerys' words, his brow furrowing slightly as he processes the information. A moment later, he straightens, his gaze sweeping over the assembled crowd with a mixture of solemnity and determination.

"Good people of the realm," Viserys begins, his voice commanding the attention of all present. "I am pleased to announce that while initially, there were to be only seven Scarlet Shadows, the performance of the final ten combatants has impressed Prince Jaehaerys to such an extent that he has offered all ten the opportunity to be recruited into the Scarlet Shadows."

The announcement is met with a collective gasp of surprise and excitement from the audience, the news spreading like wildfire throughout the crowd. Viserys' decision marks a historic moment, one that will forever change the landscape of the realm itself.

With a sense of pride and satisfaction, Viserys watches as the ten valiant warriors step forward, their faces alight with pride. It is a moment of triumph, a testament to the courage and skill of these remarkable women who have proven themselves worthy of the honor bestowed upon them.

As the cheers and applause echo through the chamber, Viserys knows that he has made the right decision, one that will strengthen the realm and ensure the continued prosperity and security of House Targaryen for generations to come.

—

Rhaenyra and Laena descended to the stands, their hearts brimming with anticipation and excitement as they approached the ten valiant warriors who would soon become their closest companions as members of the Scarlet Shadows. As they reached the group, Rhaenyra's eyes sparkled with admiration, while Laena's expression was one of quiet determination.

"Welcome," Rhaenyra said warmly, her voice filled with genuine enthusiasm. "We are honored to have you join us as part of the Scarlet Shadows. Your bravery and skill in the mêlée were truly remarkable."

Laena nodded in agreement, her gaze sweeping over the group with a sense of quiet respect. "Indeed," she added, her tone tinged with admiration. "It takes great courage to face such a challenge, and you have all proven yourselves worthy."

The ten warriors exchanged smiles and nods, their faces reflecting a mixture of pride and determination. They knew that they were about to embark on a journey that would test their mettle and forge bonds that would last a lifetime.

As Rhaenyra and Laena greeted each of the warriors in turn, the atmosphere was charged with a sense of camaraderie and shared purpose. It was the beginning of a new chapter for the Scarlet Shadows, and together, they stood ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

—

Alicent glanced hesitantly at her father, Otto Hightower, who stood nearby, his expression unreadable. She knew that he held traditional views about the role of women in society, and she worried that meeting the brave warriors of the Scarlet Shadows might disappoint him.

Taking a deep breath, Alicent gathered her courage and approached the group, her heart pounding with nervous anticipation. As she reached them, she offered a tentative smile, her eyes flickering with uncertainty.

"Hello," she began, her voice soft yet filled with genuine warmth. "I... I wanted to welcome you all and express my admiration for your bravery and skill. It's an honor to meet you."

The women of the Scarlet Shadows exchanged surprised glances, clearly taken aback by Alicent's unexpected presence. However, their expressions soon softened, and they returned her smile with genuine warmth.

"Thank you," one of the warriors replied, her tone sincere. "We appreciate your kind words."

As the conversation flowed, Alicent's anxiety began to fade, replaced by a sense of camaraderie and shared purpose. Despite her initial fears, she found herself feeling inspired by the courage and determination of these remarkable women, and she knew that she was in the presence of true warriors.

Though she couldn't shake the worry of her father's reaction, Alicent felt a newfound sense of pride in her own beliefs and convictions. She realized that she didn't have to conform to traditional expectations to make a difference, and she was determined to forge her own path, no matter the obstacles that lay ahead.

—

Jaehaerys observed Alicent from a distance, a thoughtful expression on his face as he watched her approach the women of the Scarlet Shadows. Despite knowing the potential disapproval from her father, Otto Hightower, Jaehaerys couldn't help but feel a glimmer of admiration for Alicent's courage.

As he observed her interacting with the warriors, Jaehaerys sensed a quiet determination in her demeanor, a willingness to defy convention and embrace her own convictions. It was a subtle yet significant gesture, one that hinted at a depth of character and strength of will that he hadn't fully appreciated before.

In that moment, Jaehaerys felt a renewed sense of hope for Alicent's future. Perhaps, he mused, there was more to her than met the eye—a resilience and spirit that could prove invaluable in the tumultuous times to come.

With a small, approving nod, Jaehaerys turned his attention back to the proceedings, his mind filled with thoughts of the possibilities that lay ahead.

—

As the joust unfolded, Jaehaerys's attention was drawn to a knight named Ser Criston Cole, who approached Rhaenyra with a request for her favor.

Jaehaerys observed the interaction with a mixture of curiosity and caution. "Ser Criston Cole seems quite taken with Rhaenyra," he remarked, his tone measured as he turned to Daemon beside him.

Daemon glanced at the scene below, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. "Indeed. His boldness is rather... surprising," he replied, his gaze lingering on the knight as he awaited Rhaenyra's response.

Below, Rhaenyra met Ser Criston Cole's request with a polite yet firm refusal, her demeanor composed yet resolute. "I am honored, Ser Criston, but I must decline," she said, her voice carrying a note of finality.

Ser Criston Cole nodded respectfully, albeit with a hint of disappointment, before returning to the joust.

Observing the exchange, Jaehaerys couldn't shake off a sense of unease. "It seems Ser Criston is quite persistent," he remarked, his brows furrowing slightly as he turned his attention back to the joust. "Didn't he ask for her favor before, during the Tourney for the Late Prince Baelon?" he added, directing the question to Daemon.

Daemon nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Yes, he did. It seems Ser Criston is quite taken with Rhaenyra," he replied, his tone tinged with a hint of amusement. "But I doubt Rhaenyra will be swayed so easily. She has always been steadfast in her decisions."

Jaehaerys regarded Rhaenyra with a sense of pride, his admiration for her unwavering resolve evident in his gaze. "Indeed," he agreed, a note of approval in his voice. "She is strong-willed and resolute, qualities that I greatly admire."

Jaehaerys couldn't help but feel a surge of protectiveness towards Rhaenyra, his determination to support and defend her growing with each passing moment. "I trust Rhaenyra to handle such situations with grace and poise," he remarked, his voice firm with conviction.

Daemon nodded in agreement. "As do I," he replied, his eyes never leaving the ongoing joust. "She has always been a force to be reckoned with, and I have no doubt she will handle this situation with the same strength and dignity she always does."

Jaehaerys nodded in agreement with Daemon's assessment. "Indeed," he replied, his eyes fixed on the jousting field. "Ser Criston seems to need a reminder that some things are not his to covet."

Daemon's gaze shifted to Jaehaerys, a knowing look in his eyes. "Are you suggesting a challenge, little brother?" he asked, a hint of amusement coloring his voice.

Jaehaerys shook his head, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "No," he replied with a small smile. "Sometimes, a well-executed prank can be a much better lesson than violence."

Daemon chuckled, recognizing the wisdom in his brother's words. "Very well," he said, nodding in agreement. "Let's see how Ser Criston reacts when faced with a bit of mischief."

As they continued to watch the joust unfold, Jaehaerys couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at the prospect of teaching Ser Criston a lesson in humility without resorting to violence. Sometimes, a clever prank was all it took to set things right.

—

As the tension mounted in the jousting arena, Jaehaerys seized the opportunity to teach Ser Criston Cole a lesson he wouldn't soon forget. With a subtle flick of his wrist and a whispered incantation, Jaehaerys used his magic to cast an illusion over Ser Criston's lance.

As Ser Criston prepared for the final charge against Ser Ryam Redwyne, the air crackled with anticipation. With a thunderous roar from the crowd, Ser Criston spurred his horse forward, aiming to unseat his opponent and claim victory. However, as he lowered his lance for the charge, an unexpected transformation occurred.

To the astonishment of everyone present, Ser Criston's lance shimmered with an ethereal light, transforming into an enormous, squawking goose that flapped its wings wildly and honked loudly with each movement. The sudden spectacle drew gasps and laughter from the audience, while Ser Criston himself looked utterly bewildered, struggling to maintain his focus amidst the chaotic display.

Despite his best efforts, Ser Criston found himself unable to control the unruly goose-lance, his concentration shattered by the unexpected prank. Meanwhile, Ser Ryam Redwyne, seizing the opportunity, delivered a decisive blow that sent Ser Criston tumbling from his horse with a resounding crash.

As Ser Criston lay dazed on the ground, the crowd erupted into a mixture of cheers, laughter, and applause for Ser Ryam's victory. Jaehaerys, watching from the stands, couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction, knowing that his clever prank had not only entertained the crowd but also served as a powerful lesson to Ser Criston about the consequences of coveting what wasn't his.

Daemon erupted into laughter, his booming voice echoing through the stands as he watched the spectacle unfold before him. "Well played, little brother!" he exclaimed, clapping Jaehaerys on the back with a hearty slap. "I must say, that was quite the prank. Ser Criston won't soon forget the consequences of coveting another man's betrothed!"

With a wide grin, Daemon continued to chuckle, thoroughly entertained by the unexpected turn of events. He glanced at Jaehaerys with a mixture of admiration and amusement, impressed by his brother's ingenuity and cunning.

Rhaenyra's eyes sparkled with amusement and admiration as she glanced at Jaehaerys, a knowing smile playing on her lips. She leaned in closer, speaking in a hushed tone. "I know it was you, Jaehaerys," she whispered, her tone laced with playful affection. "That was quite the prank you pulled on Ser Criston. He won't be forgetting that anytime soon."

Her gaze lingered on Jaehaerys, filled with a mixture of pride and amusement. She was impressed by his cleverness and resourcefulness, finding herself drawn to his mischievous spirit.

—
Laena's eyes widened in astonishment as she witnessed Jaehaerys' display of magic. She exchanged a glance with her family, the Velaryons, who wore matching expressions of awe and fascination. Laena's heart raced with a mixture of excitement and curiosity, realizing for the first time the true extent of Jaehaerys' power.

"By the gods," Laena breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I never realized... He truly is extraordinary."

Her siblings nodded in agreement, their eyes fixed on Jaehaerys with newfound respect and admiration. The realization that their bethrothed wielded such incredible abilities filled them with a sense of wonder and anticipation for the future.

—

Otto Hightower's eyes narrowed as he watched Jaehaerys perform the remarkable feat of magic. His expression darkened with disapproval, a mixture of shock and disdain evident on his face. As a devout follower of the faith of the Seven, Otto had been taught to view magic with suspicion and contempt, believing it to be a dangerous and corrupting force.

The sight of Jaehaerys wielding magic only confirmed his worst fears, reinforcing his deep-seated mistrust of the prince and the power he commanded. In that moment, Otto felt a surge of righteous indignation, his resolve to thwart Jaehaerys' influence and protect the realm from the dangers of magic strengthening with each passing second.

—

Ser Criston Cole's expression shifted from confidence to embarrassment as he realized he had been the unwitting victim of a magical prank. His cheeks flushed with color, and he glanced around, aware of the amused and curious gazes of the onlookers.

Acknowledging the lesson learned, Ser Criston graciously accepted his defeat with dignity and humility. As he departed from the field, he carried with him a newfound respect for the boundaries of others' affections, understanding the importance of honor and respect in matters of the heart.

Chapter Text

Under the expert guidance of Ser Ryam Redwyne, Vaelar, and Lady Myrcella Penrose, the ten women embarked on a journey of rigorous training. Each day brought new challenges and lessons as they honed their combat skills, sharpened their instincts, and forged the unbreakable bonds of camaraderie that would define them as the Scarlet Shadows.

Ser Ryam Redwyne, known for his mastery of the sword and battlefield tactics, pushed them to their physical limits. His training sessions were grueling, focusing on strength, endurance, and precision, ensuring that each woman could stand toe-to-toe with any knight in the realm.

Vaelar, the former First Sword of Braavos, brought a different perspective. His lessons were steeped in the fluid and deadly style of Braavosi water dancing, teaching the women agility, speed, and grace. His emphasis on quick reflexes and the art of anticipation added a layer of sophistication to their combat techniques, making them not just powerful but also unpredictable.

Lady Myrcella Penrose, renowned for her unparalleled skill with a bow, introduced them to the art of archery. Her training sessions focused on accuracy, patience, and the subtle yet critical aspects of reading the environment and timing their shots perfectly. Myrcella's expertise ensured that the Scarlet Shadows were as deadly from a distance as they were in close combat.

Myrcella's lessons also encompassed strategy, discipline, and mental fortitude. She taught them the importance of unity, loyalty, and the strength found in a well-coordinated group. Her insights into courtly behavior and the intricacies of political maneuvering ensured they were prepared for any scenario, both on and off the battlefield.

As the days passed, the ten women grew stronger, more skilled, and more disciplined with each passing hour of training. Their dedication and commitment to excellence were unwavering, fueled by the knowledge that they were preparing to take on the crucial role of guarding the royal women, a responsibility they embraced with pride and determination.

In addition to the rigorous training of the Scarlet Shadows, Melony, Rhaenyra, and Laena took the opportunity to join the Water Dancing lessons led by Vaelar. Melony, who had been learning the art for years, moved with an ease and fluidity that marked her as an adept student of the Braavosi style. Her skill and confidence were evident in every precise step and swift strike.

Rhaenyra and Laena, new to the practice, approached the lessons with a mix of curiosity and determination. They were eager to learn, fully aware that the skills they acquired here could prove invaluable in the turbulent world of Westeros.

Vaelar, with his keen eye for detail and patient instruction, tailored his lessons to accommodate their varying levels of expertise. For Melony, he introduced advanced techniques and complex maneuvers, challenging her to push the boundaries of her abilities. He encouraged her to take on a mentoring role with Rhaenyra and Laena, fostering a sense of camaraderie and mutual support.

For Rhaenyra and Laena, Vaelar started with the basics, emphasizing the foundational principles of balance, agility, and precision. He demonstrated the graceful yet deadly movements of Water Dancing, guiding them through each step with careful attention. Despite their initial awkwardness, both women displayed a natural aptitude for the art, their progress steady and promising.

During these sessions, the bonds between them strengthened. Melony's years of experience and natural talent shone through, inspiring Rhaenyra and Laena to persevere through the challenges of learning a new skill. The camaraderie and mutual encouragement created an environment where they could grow together, both as warriors and as friends.

The Water Dancing lessons became a cherished part of their daily routine, a time where they could escape the pressures of their respective roles and focus on the pure joy of mastering a new discipline. Under Vaelar's watchful eye, they flourished, each step bringing them closer to becoming the formidable women they were destined to be.

—

While the newly formed Scarlet Shadows honed their skills and bonds, Jaehaerys and Daemon turned their attention to the pressing matter of the Triarchy's threat in the Stepstones. The conflict in the region had become a significant concern for the realm, and a strategic response was necessary to protect Westeros' maritime interests and secure its trade routes.

In a war council held in the strategy room of the Red Keep, Jaehaerys and Daemon gathered with Lord Corlys Velaryon, renowned as the Sea Snake for his unparalleled naval prowess; Garth Redwyne, master of the Arbor fleet; Princess Rhaenys, Corlys' wife and an experienced dragonrider; and their son Laenor Velaryon, a promising young warrior and dragonrider himself.

Jaehaerys opened the discussion, his tone resolute. "The Triarchy's influence in the Stepstones has grown unchecked for too long. It's time we take decisive action to reclaim control and safeguard our shores."

Daemon leaned forward, his eyes alight with anticipation. "We need a coordinated attack, both by sea and air. Our dragons will play a crucial role in this endeavor."

Lord Corlys nodded, spreading a detailed map of the Stepstones on the table. "Our fleet is prepared, but we must strike with precision. We can disrupt their supply lines and cripple their naval strength before they can mount a proper defense."

Princess Rhaenys, her demeanor calm yet determined, added, "With our dragons, we can target their strongholds directly. A swift and overwhelming assault will demoralize their forces and scatter their defenses."

Garth Redwyne, always practical, noted, "We'll need to ensure our supply lines are secure. The Arbor fleet can provide the necessary support, but we must also consider the logistics of sustaining a prolonged campaign if needed."

Laenor Velaryon, eager to prove himself, chimed in, "And I'll be ready to fight alongside you all, both in the skies and on the sea."

Jaehaerys nodded thoughtfully, then spoke with a measured tone. "Before we launch our full assault on the Stepstones, we must first target the sources of the Triarchy's strength. Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh are key supporters, providing them with resources and reinforcements. If we can cripple their morale by striking at these cities, we will significantly weaken the Triarchy's ability to resist us."

Daemon's eyes gleamed with approval. "A bold plan, brother. If we take the fight to their supporters, it will force the Triarchy to divert their attention and resources away from the Stepstones."

Lord Corlys leaned over the map, tracing routes to the three cities. "Our fleet can blockade their ports, cutting off their trade and supplies. Meanwhile, our dragons can launch coordinated attacks on their key fortifications and military installations."

Princess Rhaenys, her eyes narrowing in determination, added, "A swift and devastating strike will not only disrupt their logistics but also spread fear among their ranks. We can use our dragons to target their leadership, creating chaos and confusion."

Garth Redwyne considered the logistics. "We'll need to ensure our supply lines are secure for such a campaign. The Arbor fleet can provide the necessary support, but timing and coordination will be crucial."

Jaehaerys nodded in agreement. "We must strike hard and fast, leaving no time for them to regroup or counterattack. Once Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh are crippled, we can turn our full attention to the Stepstones, confident that the Triarchy's support network is in disarray."

Laenor, still brimming with enthusiasm, added, "I'll be ready to lead our forces in the skies. Our dragons will bring fire and fear to our enemies."

Jaehaerys then added, "Additionally, my Black Dragon Legion is already stationed in Essos. This army, made up of freed slaves, is a formidable force and is prepared to lay siege to Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh by land. With the legion's presence, we can cut off any escape routes and apply pressure from multiple fronts."

Daemon raised an eyebrow in interest. "It will surely send a message to the Triarchy about the strength and resolve of our cause."

Lord Corlys nodded approvingly. "With the Black Dragon Legion on the ground and our fleet in the waters, we'll have them surrounded and outmatched."

Princess Rhaenys smiled. "It's a perfect strategy. The Triarchy won't know what hit them."

Jaehaerys nodded and continued, "To ensure the success of our campaign, we will assign two Dragonriders to each city. Daemon and Laenor will take Myr, where your combined experience and strength will break their defenses swiftly. Rhaenys and Laena, you will strike Tyrosh, utilizing your strategic acumen and firepower to cripple their strongholds. Rhaenyra and I will handle Lys, cutting off their resources and leadership."

Daemon grinned, a hint of excitement in his eyes. "Myr won't stand a chance. Laenor and I will ensure they regret ever siding with the Triarchy."

Laenor nodded enthusiastically. "We'll bring them to their knees, cousin."

Rhaenys placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Tyrosh will be ours. Together, we'll make sure they understand the true power of House Targaryen."

Jaehaerys looked around at his assembled allies, feeling a surge of pride and confidence. "With our dragons, our fleet and the Black Dragon Legion, we will strike fear into the hearts of our enemies. The Triarchy's days are numbered."

Lord Corlys, his expression one of approval, added, "With each city facing the might of our dragons and armies, the Triarchy will be forced to fight on multiple fronts. They won't be able to withstand the pressure."

Garth Redwyne, nodding in agreement, said, "Our forces will be ready to support each of you, ensuring that no city can mount a successful defense."

Jaehaerys concluded, "This is our moment. Together, we will bring an end to the Triarchy's threat and secure the safety and prosperity of our realm. Prepare yourselves; the battle for the Stepstones and beyond begins now."

The war council dispersed with a renewed sense of purpose and determination. Each member of the Targaryen-Velaryon alliance knew their role in the upcoming campaign and was ready to unleash their full strength against their enemies. The Triarchy would soon face the combined might of dragonfire and strategic brilliance, ensuring the realm's future under the Targaryen banner.

—

Rhaenyra, muscles aching from her rigorous Water Dancing lessons, made her way back to her chambers, each step a reminder of the intense training she had been undergoing. As she approached her door, she paused, spotting Alicent Hightower standing there, waiting.

Alicent looked up, her expression a mixture of concern and determination. "Rhaenyra, I need to talk to you," she said softly, her voice tinged with apprehension.

Rhaenyra's face hardened, memories of her father’s announcement and Otto Hightower’s schemes flashing through her mind. She had been avoiding Alicent ever since, unsure of how to reconcile her friendship with the knowledge of Otto’s manipulations. "Alicent," she replied, her tone colder than she intended, "I’ve been busy."

Alicent took a tentative step forward, her eyes pleading. "Please, Rhaenyra, just hear me out. I didn’t know about my father’s plans. I didn’t—"

Rhaenyra cut her off, her frustration bubbling to the surface. "How could you not know, Alicent? Your father’s ambitions are no secret. And now you’re to be my stepmother. Do you have any idea how that feels?"

Alicent’s eyes filled with tears, her voice trembling. "I never wanted this, Rhaenyra. I never wanted to come between us. But I couldn’t refuse my father. You know how he is."

Rhaenyra looked away, struggling with her emotions. She wanted to believe Alicent, to trust her old friend, but the betrayal she felt was too raw. "It doesn’t change what’s happened. Your father’s plans are set in motion, and we’re all just pawns in his game."

Alicent reached out, gently touching Rhaenyra’s arm. "You’re not a pawn, Rhaenyra. You’re my friend, my closest friend. Please, don’t shut me out. We can still be allies, even in this."

Rhaenyra hesitated, her resolve wavering. She missed the companionship she had shared with Alicent, the late-night talks and shared dreams. But she couldn’t ignore the reality of their situation. "I need time, Alicent. This isn’t something I can just forget."

Alicent nodded, wiping away her tears. "I understand. Just… please remember that I’m still here for you. No matter what."

Rhaenyra watched as Alicent turned and walked away, her heart heavy with conflicting emotions. She knew their friendship would never be the same, but perhaps, in time, they could find a way to navigate the treacherous waters of court life together.

As Rhaenyra stood at the threshold of her chambers, the weight of recent events pressing down on her, she decided to take a moment to gather her thoughts. She entered her room and closed the door, leaning against it as she tried to process her conversation with Alicent. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions and conflicting loyalties.

—

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the Red Keep, Jaehaerys and Daemon were deep in discussion about the upcoming campaign against the Triarchy. The room was filled with maps and strategic plans, their faces illuminated by the flickering candlelight.

"We need to make sure our plans are airtight," Daemon said, his brow furrowed in concentration. "The element of surprise is crucial. If we can take Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh quickly, the Triarchy will be left scrambling."

Jaehaerys nodded in agreement. "I've already sent word to our contacts in Essos. The Black Dragon Legion is ready and waiting for our signal. They will begin the siege as soon as we give the order."

Jaehaerys glanced at his brother, a determined look in his eyes. "We must ensure the safety of our family and the realm. This is our chance to secure our future and eliminate the threat of the Triarchy once and for all."

—

Rhaenyra sank into the chair opposite her father, a heavy weight pressing upon her shoulders. She had been grappling with the multitude of challenges that seemed to converge upon her all at once. Alicent's presence, the formation of the Scarlet Shadows, and the looming threat of war with the Triarchy had left her feeling overwhelmed and uncertain.

Her father's warm smile and comforting presence provided a momentary respite from the turmoil within her. Viserys' kind eyes met hers, filled with paternal concern.

"Father," Rhaenyra began, her voice laden with worry, "I feel as though I'm being pulled in different directions. It's all so much to handle."

Viserys reached out and gently took her hand. "I know, my dear. But you mustn't forget that you are not alone in this. You have your family and allies standing by your side, ready to support you through these trying times. Lean on them when you need to. Together, we are stronger."

His words were like a balm to her troubled soul, offering a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos. Rhaenyra felt a sense of reassurance wash over her, knowing that she could rely on the unwavering support of her loved ones.

"Thank you, Father," Rhaenyra said, a note of gratitude in her voice. "I will try to remember that."

With a nod of understanding, Viserys squeezed her hand gently, silently conveying his unwavering belief in her strength and resilience. As Rhaenyra rose to leave, she felt a renewed sense of determination, ready to face the challenges that lay ahead with courage and resolve.

—

As the days melted into one another, the Red Keep buzzed with fervent activity. The Scarlet Shadows underwent grueling training sessions, pushing their limits and testing their mettle under the watchful eyes of their instructors. Rhaenyra, Laena, and Melony delved deeper into the art of Water Dancing, their movements growing more fluid and precise with each passing day.

Meanwhile, Jaehaerys and Daemon worked tirelessly, meticulously finalizing their plans for the impending campaign. Every detail was scrutinized, every contingency accounted for. The tension in the air was palpable, a silent acknowledgment of the weight of responsibility that rested upon their shoulders. Each member of the royal family and their closest allies understood that the coming conflict would shape the future of the realm.

Finally, the day of departure arrived. The docks bustled with activity as the royal family and their companions gathered, their dragons towering above them, ready to take flight. Jaehaerys stood at the forefront, his gaze steely and unwavering.

"Today, we embark on a mission of great importance," he declared, his voice ringing out across the gathering. "But let us remember, we do not fight solely for victory, but for the safety and prosperity of our realm. Together, we will face whatever challenges come our way, and together, we will triumph."

With a solemn nod, Jaehaerys signaled to the dragons, and they took to the sky with a powerful beat of their wings. The ships set sail, slicing through the waves with determination as they embarked on their journey. The campaign against the Triarchy had begun, and the fate of the realm hung in the balance, guided by the unwavering determination of those who dared to stand against tyranny.

—

Under the joint leadership of Daemon Targaryen and Laenor Velaryon, mounted on their powerful dragons, the forces of House Targaryen and their allies set their sights on the city of Myr, one of the three strongholds of the Triarchy. The journey was fraught with challenges, but the resolve of the Targaryen forces remained unyielding.

As they approached the city, they encountered fierce resistance from the Myrish defenders. The city's defenses were formidable, and the Triarchy had bolstered its ranks in anticipation of the Targaryen advance. However, the combined might of the Targaryen army, supported by the Black Dragon Legion, proved to be a force to be reckoned with.

Daemon and Laenor, riding atop Caraxes and Seasmoke, orchestrated a brilliant siege, their strategic acumen and unwavering determination guiding their forces through the chaos of battle. The Black Dragon Legion, made up of freed slaves from Essos, proved their mettle, their sheer tenacity and fighting spirit inspiring all who fought alongside them.

As the siege raged on, the Targaryen forces faced numerous challenges, but they remained steadfast in their determination to emerge victorious. With each passing day, they gained ground, slowly but surely chipping away at the defenses of Myr.

In a decisive and hard-fought battle, the Targaryen forces breached the walls of Myr, engaging the enemy in fierce combat within the city streets.

In the end, victory belonged to House Targaryen. Myr fell to their forces, its defenses shattered and its rulers defeated. The conquest of Myr marked a significant triumph for Daemon and Laenor, solidifying their position and dealing a severe blow to the power of the Triarchy.

As the city was brought under Targaryen control, the triumphant forces celebrated their hard-won victory.

—

Led by Rhaenys and Laena Targaryen, mounted on the mighty dragons Meleys and Vhagar, the Targaryen forces, accompanied by five members of the Scarlet Shadows led by Sayra Stone, embarked on the conquest of Tyrosh, another stronghold of the Triarchy. The skies above the city darkened as the dragons approached, their imposing figures striking fear into the hearts of the city's defenders.

As they descended upon Tyrosh, the Targaryen forces encountered fierce resistance from the Triarchy's armies. The streets of the city became a battleground, as the defenders fought desperately to repel the invading forces. But the combined might of the Targaryen dragons and the elite warriors of the Scarlet Shadows proved to be too much for the Triarchy to withstand.

Rhaenys and Laena, with their unparalleled skill in dragon riding, led the charge, raining down fire and destruction upon the enemy ranks. Meleys and Vhagar unleashed torrents of flame, engulfing the enemy in a blazing inferno and clearing the way for the Targaryen ground forces.

Meanwhile, the Scarlet Shadows, under the leadership of Sayra Stone, fought with unmatched ferocity and precision, cutting through the enemy lines with deadly efficiency. Their skill and discipline were on full display as they engaged the enemy in close-quarters combat, their martial prowess striking fear into the hearts of their adversaries.

Despite facing fierce resistance, the Targaryen forces and the Black Dragon Legion pressed on, their determination unyielding. With each passing hour, they gained ground, inching closer to victory with every step. The streets of Tyrosh ran red with blood as the battle raged on, but the Targaryen forces refused to be deterred.

In a final, desperate stand, the Triarchy made a last-ditch effort to repel the invaders. But it was too late. The combined might of the Targaryen dragons, the Black Dragon Legion and the Scarlet Shadows proved to be overwhelming, and the city of Tyrosh fell to the forces of House Targaryen.

As the dust settled and the fires of battle burned low, the triumphant Targaryen forces celebrated their hard-won victory.

—

Led by Jaehaerys and Rhaenyra Targaryen, mounted on the formidable dragons Gaelithox and Syrax, accompanied by five members of the Scarlet Shadows led by Lyra Mormont, the Targaryen forces launched their assault on the city of Lys, one of the strongholds of the Triarchy. 

As they approached the city, Jaehaerys, confident in his abilities, demonstrated his magic freely, unleashing powerful spells that wreaked havoc on the enemy's defenses. Bolts of lightning crackled from the sky, hitting wherever they stood, striking fear into the hearts of the defenders and clearing the way for the Targaryen forces to advance.

Gaelithox and Syrax descended upon Lys, their roaring flames engulfing the enemy's fortifications and scattering their ranks. The Scarlet Shadows, under the skilled leadership of Lyra Mormont, fought valiantly alongside the dragons, their prowess in battle unmatched as they carved a path through the enemy lines.

As the battle raged on, Jaehaerys continued to wield his magic with precision and power, using his abilities to turn the tide of battle in favor of the Targaryens. His spells struck with deadly accuracy, decimating the Triarchy's forces and leaving chaos and destruction in their wake.

Despite facing fierce resistance, the Targaryen forces pushed forward, their determination unyielding. With each passing moment, they gained ground, inching closer to victory with every step. The streets of Lys ran red with blood as the battle reached its climax, but the Targaryens pressed on, their eyes fixed on the ultimate prize.

In a final, decisive push, the combined might of the Targaryen dragons, the Black Dragon Legion and the Scarlet Shadows overwhelmed the remaining defenders, and the city of Lys fell to the forces of House Targaryen. As the dust settled and the fires of battle burned low, the triumphant Targaryen forces celebrated their hard-won victory.

—-

Upon hearing the news of the conquest of Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh, Prince Cragas Drahar, the Myrish prince-admiral of the Triarchy, stationed at Bloodstone, was filled with a mixture of shock and disbelief. The fall of three of the Triarchy's strongest bastions dealt a severe blow to their forces and shattered the illusion of invincibility that had long surrounded the alliance.

Rushing to gather his commanders and strategists, Prince Cragas knew that swift and decisive action was needed to stem the tide of the Targaryen advance. With the might of the Triarchy now severely weakened, he understood that their only hope lay in mounting a fierce defense and rallying their remaining forces for a final stand.

Despite the grim situation, Prince Cragas remained resolute, determined to defend Bloodstone and uphold the honor of the Triarchy. As he began to formulate his plans and prepare his forces for the inevitable clash with the Targaryens, he knew that the fate of the Stepstones and the future of the Triarchy hung in the balance.

However, it seemed fate had other plans.

Prince Cragas was taken aback when he saw the Velaryon fleet, led by the renowned Sea Snake himself, Lord Corlys Velaryon, arriving at Bloodstone. The unexpected appearance of such a formidable force at his doorstep added a new layer of urgency to an already dire situation.

Realizing that the battle for Bloodstone was now imminent, Prince Cragas knew that he would need to muster all of his strength and cunning to stand against the combined might of the Velaryon fleet and the Targaryen dragons. With the fate of the Stepstones hanging in the balance, he prepared to meet the impending onslaught with steely determination and unwavering resolve.

Chapter Text

Prince Cragas Drahar stood upon the ramparts of Bloodstone, gazing out at the horizon with a mix of shock and apprehension. The news of the conquest of Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh had caught him off guard, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight of the Velaryon fleet, led by the legendary Sea Snake himself, Lord Corlys Velaryon, bearing down upon his island fortress.

Beside Prince Cragas stood his most trusted generals, Harrold Sand and Marek Ormollen, their expressions reflecting the gravity of the situation. As they surveyed the approaching enemy fleet, the urgency of the moment was palpable, and they knew that they would need to muster all of their strength and cunning to defend against the impending assault.

Prince Cragas turned to his generals, his voice firm with resolve. "Prepare the defenses," he ordered. "We must hold this island at all costs."

Harrold Sand and Marek Ormollen nodded in agreement, their minds already racing with strategies to repel the invaders. They knew that the battle ahead would be fierce and unforgiving, but they were determined to fight to the last man in defense of their homeland.

As the Velaryon fleet drew closer, the tension on Bloodstone reached a fever pitch. Prince Cragas and his generals stood ready to face whatever came their way, steeling themselves for the inevitable clash that would determine the fate of the Stepstones.

—

As the Velaryon fleet approached the island of Bloodstone, Lord Corlys Velaryon convened a council of war to plan the siege. Joining him were his brother Vaemond, Lady Rhea Royce, Vaelar, Ser Garth Redwyne, and Lady Myrcella Penrose.

Seated around a large map table in the flagship's war room, Lord Corlys began the discussion. "Our primary objective is to secure a foothold on the island and neutralize the enemy's defenses," he stated, his voice carrying the weight of command. "Once we establish a beachhead, we can begin the siege in earnest."

Vaemond nodded in agreement. "We'll need to coordinate our efforts carefully to overcome any resistance," he added, his eyes flicking over the map as he formulated strategies in his mind.

Lady Rhea spoke next, her tone firm and decisive. "We must be prepared for any eventuality. The defenders of Bloodstone will not yield easily, and we must be ready to adapt our tactics accordingly."

Vaelar, the former First Sword of Braavos, offered his insights on the best approach for breaching the island's defenses. "We should focus our initial assault on the weakest point of their fortifications," he suggested. "Once we establish a breach, we can exploit it to gain access to the heart of their defenses."

Ser Garth Redwyne, known for his expertise in naval warfare, outlined the plan for the fleet's maneuvers around the island. "We'll need to coordinate closely with our dragonriders to provide air support and suppress enemy fire from the shore," he explained, his fingers tracing the routes on the map.

Lady Myrcella Penrose, skilled with a bow, offered her thoughts on the best positioning for the archers during the initial assault. "We'll need to ensure that our ranged attackers have clear lines of sight and ample cover to provide support for the ground forces," she suggested, her gaze focused on the tactical map.

Lord Corlys nodded in agreement with Myrcella's assessment.

Turning his attention to the broader strategy, Lord Corlys addressed the assembled commanders. "Remember, our primary objective is to keep the enemy engaged until the dragons arrive. Every moment we can delay them is another moment in our favor. We must coordinate our efforts and maintain our resolve until victory is assured."

With a firm nod, he signaled for the battle to begin, knowing that the fate of Bloodstone and the Stepstones hung in the balance.

—

As Prince Cragas Drahar convened his war council on Bloodstone, he surveyed the gathered commanders with a stern expression, the weight of their impending battle heavy on his shoulders.

"My fellow warriors," he began, his voice resonating with authority, "we stand on the precipice of a decisive moment in our struggle against the Targaryen invaders. The recent conquests of Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh have shifted the tide of this conflict, but we shall not falter. Bloodstone is our last bastion, and we shall defend it with every ounce of strength we possess."

His advisors nodded in agreement, their faces reflecting the gravity of the situation.

"Our enemy comes not only with dragons but also with the formidable Velaryon fleet," Cragas continued, his tone resolute. "But we have faced adversity before, and we have emerged victorious. We shall do so again."

The commanders listened intently as Cragas outlined his strategy, a plan that would test their mettle and determination to the fullest.

"We shall use the terrain to our advantage," he declared, his eyes blazing with determination. "Our ships will form a defensive line along the coastline, anchored by the fortified defenses of Bloodstone. We will unleash the full force of our naval prowess upon the enemy, using every weapon at our disposal to repel their advance."

The war council nodded in agreement, each member fully committed to the cause.

"Remember," Cragas concluded, his voice resonating with resolve, "we fight not just for ourselves, but for the future of the Stepstones. We shall show the Targaryens and their allies that the Triarchy does not yield easily. Victory is within our grasp, and we shall seize it with all our strength."

With a unified sense of purpose, the commanders dispersed, ready to execute their leader's orders and defend Bloodstone against the might of the Targaryen forces.

—

Recognizing the need for stable governance in the newly conquered territories, Jaehaerys took decisive action by appointing trusted generals from within the Black Dragon Legion as the new Lords of Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh. These seasoned commanders were chosen for their loyalty, competence, and unwavering commitment to the Targaryen cause.

With the support of their dragon riders and the Scarlet Shadows, the newly appointed lords set out to establish order and maintain peace in the conquered cities. They worked tirelessly to ensure a smooth transition of power, quelling any pockets of resistance and asserting Targaryen authority over the region.

Jaehaerys' vision for the conquered territories went beyond mere domination; he aimed to foster prosperity and stability, laying the groundwork for long-term Targaryen rule in the region. Under the leadership of the appointed lords, the cities of Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh would soon experience a new era of growth and prosperity, firmly cementing their allegiance to the Targaryen dynasty.

With the might of the dragons overhead and the vigilant watch of the Legion on the ground, the Targaryens were poised to usher in a new era of peace and prosperity in the conquered cities of the Stepstones.

—-

As the Velaryon fleet approached Bloodstone, Prince Cragas Drahar of the Triarchy swiftly organized his forces, preparing for the impending battle. The clash between the two fleets marked the beginning of the first skirmish in the ongoing conflict for control over the Stepstones.

The Sea Snake, Lord Corlys Velaryon, led the charge from the flagship of his fleet, the Tidal Fury, his expert naval tactics and strategic maneuvers quickly bringing the Triarchy forces under intense pressure. With decades of experience as a sailor and commander, Corlys knew the seas like the back of his hand. His fleet moved in a disciplined formation, swiftly closing the distance between them and the enemy.

The Triarchy's forces, led by Prince Cragas Drahar, braced themselves for the onslaught. The Myrish prince-admiral had a reputation for his cunning and tactical acumen, and he wasted no time in deploying his fleet to meet the Velaryon onslaught. His ships formed a defensive line, preparing to repel the approaching attackers.

Despite fierce resistance from the Triarchy, the might of the Velaryon fleet, and the Scarlet Shadows proved too formidable to overcome. The first skirmish ended in a decisive victory for the Targaryen forces, setting the stage for further conflicts to come in the struggle for dominance over the Stepstones.

—

Cragas Drahar, along with his trusted commanders Harrold and Marek, meticulously planned a daring nighttime raid to catch their enemies off guard. They knew that time was of the essence, and they needed to act swiftly to end the siege before the dragons arrived.

Gathered around a crude map of the battlefield, illuminated by flickering torchlight, the three Triarchy leaders discussed their strategy in hushed tones. Each detail was carefully considered, every possible outcome analyzed and accounted for.

"We strike at the heart of their fleet," Prince Cragas declared, his voice low but resolute. "Our goal is to disrupt their supply lines and sow chaos in their ranks. With luck, we may even capture or sink a few of their ships."

Harrold nodded in agreement. "We'll deploy our fastest longboats, silent as shadows on the water. They'll slip past the Targaryen sentries undetected and unleash havoc on their unsuspecting foes."

With the plan in place, the Triarchy commanders set their preparations in motion, marshaling their forces and readying their longboats for the daring raid ahead. Under the cover of night, they would strike swiftly and decisively, aiming to turn the tide of the siege in their favor and secure a much-needed victory against the Targaryen forces.

—

Under the cloak of darkness, the Triarchy forces launched their daring night raid against the Targaryen fleet. Longboats glided silently through the black waters, propelled by skilled oarsmen moving with the precision of a well-trained unit. Prince Cragas Drahar, his face set in determination, led the assault from the helm of his flagship.

As they approached the Targaryen ships, the Triarchy raiders moved swiftly and silently, their movements coordinated and synchronized. With expert precision, they launched a surprise attack on the unsuspecting Targaryen fleet, aiming to disrupt their supply lines and cripple their defenses.

The night air was filled with the sounds of clashing steel and battle cries as the Triarchy forces clashed with the defenders. Torches flared to life, casting eerie shadows on the churning waters as the two sides engaged in a fierce struggle for supremacy.

Cragas fought with the skill and ferocity of a seasoned warrior, his blade flashing in the dim light as he led his men into the heart of the enemy fleet. Harrold and Marek, his trusted commanders, fought at his side, their longboats cutting through the water with deadly precision.

Despite the element of surprise, the Targaryen defenders rallied quickly, mounting a fierce resistance against the Triarchy raiders. Arrows whistled through the air, finding their marks with deadly accuracy, while swords clashed in a cacophony of steel.

Amidst the chaos, Cragas and his men pressed on, their determination unwavering as they fought tooth and nail to achieve their objective. The success of their mission hung in the balance, and they knew that failure was not an option.

As the battle raged on into the night, the fate of the siege teetered on a knife's edge, with both sides locked in a desperate struggle for victory. Only time would tell which side would emerge triumphant in the darkness.

—

As Cragas Drahar and his men pressed forward, confident in their imminent victory, their plans were suddenly foiled by the arrival of Caraxes and Seasmoke, the fearsome Targaryen dragons. With a deafening roar, the mighty dragons swooped down from the night sky, their massive wings casting a shadow over the Triarchy longboats.

Caraxes, the Blood Wyrm, unleashed torrents of fire upon the Triarchy vessels, engulfing them in flames and sending men screaming into the dark waters. Seasmoke, the dragon ridden by Laenor, unleashed a barrage of scorching flames, further decimating the Triarchy raiders.

Caught off guard by the unexpected arrival of the dragons, Prince Cragas and his men found themselves in disarray, their carefully laid plans unraveling before their eyes. The chaos of battle turned to panic as the Triarchy forces scrambled to regroup and mount a defense against the ferocious dragons.

In the midst of the inferno, Prince Cragas and Marek barely managed to escape the devastation, their longboats barely skimming the surface of the water as they fled for their lives. However, Harrold, their trusted commander, was not as fortunate. Seized by the Targaryen forces, he was captured and taken prisoner, his fate now uncertain in the hands of his enemies.

The triumphant roar of the dragons echoed across the dark waters, signaling the swift and decisive victory of the Targaryen forces. With their plans thwarted and their forces scattered, the Triarchy raiders were forced to retreat, licking their wounds and nursing their shattered pride in the face of the Targaryen onslaught.

—

Washing up on the shores, battered and bruised, Cragas Drahar and Marek, his trusted lieutenant, stumbled onto the rocky beach of Bloodstone. The remnants of their fleet lay scattered along the coastline, shattered by the devastating attack of the Targaryen dragons. With their forces decimated and their plans in ruins, they knew they had no recourse but to seek refuge within the dark, foreboding caves of the island.

Gasping for breath and with fear etched in their eyes, they stumbled toward the yawning entrance of the caves, their footsteps heavy with the weight of defeat. 

"We must hide within the caves," Cragas said, his voice tinged with desperation. "It is our only hope of evading the vengeance of the Targaryens."

Marek nodded grimly, his expression reflecting the gravity of their situation. "Agreed," he replied, his voice hoarse with exhaustion. "We will bide our time and wait for an opportunity to strike back."

With a weary resolve, they disappeared into the darkness of the caves, seeking refuge from the wrath of the Targaryens and plotting their next move in the shadows of the unforgiving island.

—

As Daemon and Laenor landed on the shores of Bloodstone, they were met by Lord Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake himself. He greeted them with a mixture of relief and gratitude, his expression betraying the weight of the recent events.

"Thank the gods you've arrived," Lord Corlys exclaimed, his voice filled with urgency. "We were beginning to fear the worst. The situation here is dire, but with your presence, there is hope."

Daemon and Laenor exchanged a glance, their resolve steeled by the gravity of the situation. "We are here to aid you in any way we can," Daemon replied, his tone firm and unwavering. "Together, we will put an end to this threat."

Lord Corlys nodded, a sense of determination in his eyes. "We must act swiftly. The Triarchy may still pose a threat, and we cannot afford to let our guard down."

With a shared sense of purpose, they set off to strategize and plan their next move, united in their mission to bring justice to those who dared to defy the might of House Targaryen.

—

Vaelar entered the dimly lit chamber, his footsteps echoing off the stone walls. Harrold, bound and bloodied, met his gaze with a defiant glare.

"Harrold Sand," Vaelar began, his voice low and steady, "you and your comrades attempted to strike at us under the cover of darkness. You failed, and now you will tell us everything we need to know."

Harrold's lips curled into a sneer. "You think torture will make me talk, Braavosi? You know nothing of the Triarchy's resolve."

Vaelar remained unfazed, gesturing to his men to begin the interrogation. "We shall see," he replied calmly.

Vaelar nodded to his men, who stepped forward with grim determination. They wasted no time in implementing their usual method of interrogation, subjecting Harrold to gruesome torture.

As the torturers began pulling out Harrold's nails one by one, his agonized screams filled the chamber. The torturer’s pliers clamped down on each nail, wrenching them free from the flesh with a sickening crunch. Blood welled up from the raw, exposed nail beds, staining the wooden floor beneath him. Each excruciating moment seemed to stretch on indefinitely as they pushed the boundaries of pain and endurance.

Harrold writhed against his restraints, his muscles straining as he fought against the pain. His face was a mask of agony, sweat pouring down his temples, mixing with the tears that streamed from his eyes.

"Are you ready to talk?" Vaelar asked calmly, his voice cutting through the echoes of Harrold's screams.

Harrold gritted his teeth, his face contorted in pain, but he remained defiant. "You'll get nothing from me!" he spat between agonized cries.

Vaelar remained unmoved, his gaze unwavering as he observed the scene before him. He knew that they could not afford to show mercy if they were to thwart the Triarchy's plans and protect the realm from further harm.

With a silent nod, Vaelar signaled for the interrogation to continue. The torturers moved on to the next phase, heating a branding iron in the nearby brazier until it glowed red-hot. The air was thick with the scent of burning flesh as they pressed the iron against Harrold's skin, the sizzle and smoke filling the room.

Harrold's screams grew louder, more desperate. His body convulsed with the intensity of the pain, his willpower starting to crack under the relentless onslaught. The iron left angry, charred marks on his flesh, the searing pain almost too much to bear.

Vaelar leaned in closer, his voice a cold whisper. "This can all end, Harrold. Just tell us what we need to know. Where are your men hiding?"

Harrold's breaths came in ragged gasps, his spirit teetering on the edge of breaking. "The caves..." he finally gasped out, his voice hoarse from screaming. "They're hiding in the caves beneath Bloodstone."

Satisfied, Vaelar stepped back, signaling for the torture to cease. The men released Harrold, who slumped forward in his restraints, barely conscious.

—

Vaelar arrived at Daemon's side, his expression grave as he addressed the Sea Snake. "My lord, Prince Daemon, we've uncovered information regarding the location of the Triarchy's hideout," he announced, his voice low and urgent.

Daemon's eyes narrowed with interest. "Where are they hiding?"

Vaelar nodded solemnly. "They are holed up in a complex network of caves beneath the island. It seems they are using the natural terrain to their advantage, hoping to evade capture."

Daemon's brow furrowed in thought. "We must act swiftly. If they've found refuge in the caves, they may attempt to regroup and mount a counterattack."

Vaelar continued, "Harrold finally broke under the pain and revealed the location. We have the upper hand now."

With a decisive nod, Daemon turned to his men. "Gather our forces. We march on the caves at once."

As the preparations for the assault began, the tension in the air was palpable. The fate of Bloodstone hung in the balance, and it would be up to Daemon and his allies to ensure that justice was served and the threat of the Triarchy was eradicated once and for all.

—

Under the cover of darkness, Daemon and his forces approached the hidden caves, their footsteps muffled by the soft sand. The night was quiet, the only sounds the gentle lapping of waves against the shore and the distant calls of nocturnal birds.

As they reached the mouth of the cave, Daemon signaled for his men to proceed cautiously. They moved forward in silence, their weapons at the ready, eyes alert for any sign of movement. The entrance loomed before them, a gaping maw in the side of the cliff, shrouded in darkness.

With a swift nod from Daemon, the first wave of soldiers entered the cave, their torches illuminating the narrow passageways with flickering light. They moved forward slowly, scanning the shadows for any sign of the enemy.

But the Triarchy proved to be more elusive than anticipated. As the Targaryen forces pressed deeper into the caves, they encountered no resistance. The passages twisted and turned, leading them further into the darkness, with no sign of the enemy.

Frustration mounted among the soldiers as they searched the labyrinthine tunnels, their torchlight casting eerie shadows on the rough-hewn walls. Despite their best efforts, the Triarchy remained one step ahead, slipping through the network of caves like ghosts in the night.

Daemon gritted his teeth in frustration, his mind racing with the possibilities. It was clear that they had underestimated the enemy's cunning. With a silent command, he signaled for his men to regroup outside the caves.

As they emerged into the cool night air, Daemon knew that the battle was far from over. The Triarchy may have eluded them for now, but he was determined to track them down and bring them to justice, no matter the cost. With a renewed sense of resolve, he prepared to lead his forces in pursuit of their elusive foes, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

—

As they regrouped outside the caves, Daemon and Corlys huddled together, their faces etched with determination and frustration. They knew they needed a new plan, one that would flush out the elusive Triarchy and put an end to their schemes once and for all.

"I don't understand how they managed to slip past us," Daemon muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "We need to find a way to corner them before they disappear again."

Corlys nodded grimly, his mind racing with possibilities. "We could try a different approach," he suggested, his voice low. "Perhaps we could set up a blockade along the coastline. If they try to escape by sea, we'll be ready for them."

Daemon considered the idea for a moment before nodding in agreement. "It's worth a try," he conceded. "We'll need to act fast before they have a chance to regroup."

As they discussed the details of the plan, Vaemond interjected with his own ideas, his voice filled with arrogance and impatience. Daemon's patience wore thin as he listened to Vaemond’s suggestions, each one more impractical than the last.

Rhea, seeing the tension between her husband and Vaemond, stepped forward, her expression determined. "Daemon is in charge here," she said firmly, her voice cutting through the argument. "We need to work together if we're going to succeed."

Daemon's eyes softened as he looked at his wife, a surge of appreciation welling up inside him. He nodded in agreement, grateful for her support and understanding. With renewed focus, he turned back to Corlys, ready to put their new plan into action.

Together, they finalized the details of their strategy, determined to outmaneuver the Triarchy and bring an end to their reign of terror. With Rhea's unwavering support and Corlys' strategic acumen, Daemon felt confident that they would succeed, no matter what obstacles lay in their path.

—

Despite their best efforts, the Triarchy continued to elude them at every turn. Each attempt to corner their adversaries was met with cunning resistance, leaving Daemon, Corlys, and their allies frustrated and exhausted.

"We need to rethink our strategy," Corlys declared, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. "They're always one step ahead of us. We need to anticipate their moves and catch them off guard."

Daemon nodded in agreement, his mind racing as he considered their options. "Perhaps we should split our forces," he suggested. "If we cover more ground, we might have a better chance of catching them."

Corlys considered the idea for a moment before nodding in agreement. "It's risky, but it might be our best chance," he conceded. "We'll need to coordinate carefully to ensure we don't leave any gaps for them to slip through."

As they deliberated on their next move, a soldier burst into the room, his face flushed with urgency. "My lords!" he exclaimed, interrupting their conversation. "Four dragons have been spotted on the horizon!"

Daemon's eyes widened in surprise, a glimmer of hope crossing his features. "Four dragons?" he repeated, his voice tinged with disbelief. "It must be Meleys, Syrax, Vhagar, and Gaelithox. They've come to our aid."

Excitedly, Daemon and Corlys rushed outside, quickly joined by Rhea, Laenor, Vaelar, Garth, and Myrcella. They watched in awe as the four dragons appeared on the horizon, flying majestically in the sky. Caraxes and Seasmoke roared to welcome their fellow dragons, their powerful voices echoing across the landscape.

The sight of the dragons filled them with renewed determination and hope. It was a powerful reinforcement of their cause, a sign that victory might be within their grasp. As they watched the dragons draw closer, their hearts swelled with gratitude and anticipation for the battle ahead.

Chapter Text

As the four dragons landed on the Targaryen-occupied coast of Bloodstone, the ground trembled beneath their powerful weight. The dragons’ wings folded majestically as their riders began to disembark, their expressions resolute and filled with purpose.

Jaehaerys was the first to slide down from Gaelithox’s back, his eyes scanning the surroundings with a keen, strategic focus. His dark hair whipped in the wind as he turned to greet the gathered commanders.

Rhaenys, with her regal bearing, gracefully descended from Meleys, the Red Queen. Her presence commanded respect, her piercing gaze assessing the situation with a warrior’s intuition.

Rhaenyra, her golden hair glinting in the sunlight, dismounted from Syrax. Her face showed a blend of determination and concern, aware of the significance of their mission. She was accompanied by Lyra Mormont, who stood by her side, her muscular frame exuding strength and readiness.

Laena, with her usual poise, disembarked from Vhagar. Her expression was fierce and unwavering, mirroring the determination of her dragon. Sarya Stone, with her steely resolve and sharp eyes, followed closely, her demeanor signaling that she was prepared for whatever lay ahead.

Daemon and Corlys stepped forward to greet them, their relief palpable. The presence of the dragons and their riders was a significant boost to their morale.

“Jaehaerys,” Daemon called out, his voice filled with both relief and anticipation. “Your timing is impeccable.”

Jaehaerys nodded, his gaze shifting to the assembled forces. “We came as soon as we could. What’s the situation?”

Corlys stepped forward, his face etched with the strain of recent battles. “The Triarchy forces are hiding in the caves beneath Bloodstone. We’ve tried flushing them out, but they’ve proven elusive.”

Jaehaerys frowned thoughtfully. “Caves, you say? We’ll need to coordinate a strategy to drive them out. The dragons will be crucial in blocking their escape routes and creating chaos.”

Rhaenys spoke up, her voice steady. “We’ll need to combine our efforts, both in the air and on the ground. We can use the dragons to seal off the entrances and force them into the open.”

Rhaenyra and Laena exchanged determined glances. “We’re ready,” Rhaenyra said firmly. “Whatever it takes to bring them down.”

Lyra Mormont and Sarya Stone stood ready, their weapons at their sides, prepared to assist their lieges in any capacity.

Daemon’s eyes gleamed with a newfound sense of purpose. “Then let’s move quickly. Every moment we delay gives them a chance to regroup.”

The commanders swiftly began to coordinate their attack, the dragons and their riders playing a pivotal role in the upcoming assault. As the preparations were made, the combined forces of the Targaryen fleet and their dragon allies stood ready to face the hidden enemy, their resolve unshakable and their spirits high. The battle for Bloodstone was about to reach its critical climax, with the fate of the realm hanging in the balance.

—

Daemon and Corlys hurried to inform Jaehaerys of the situation in detail, laying out the intelligence they had gathered about the Triarchy forces hiding in the caves beneath Bloodstone. As they spoke, Jaehaerys listened intently, his mind already working on a plan.

When they finished, Jaehaerys's eyes gleamed with a mixture of determination and something darker. He rose from his seat, pacing the room for a moment before turning to face Daemon and Corlys.

"I have a plan," Jaehaerys said, his voice steady. "But it is one that requires utmost secrecy. I cannot reveal it to anyone, not even to you, my closest allies."

Daemon frowned, clearly puzzled. "Why the secrecy, brother? We need to work together if we're to succeed."

Jaehaerys shook his head. "Trust me, Daemon. This is a method that must remain hidden for now. I promise you, it will be effective."

Corlys, sensing the gravity of Jaehaerys's words, nodded reluctantly. "Very well, Prince Jaehaerys. We trust your judgment. What do you need from us?"

"Prepare our forces," Jaehaerys instructed. "Ensure that we have the perimeter of the caves secured. No one gets in or out without our say-so. Leave the rest to me."

With that, Jaehaerys left the room, his expression resolute. He knew the risks involved in his plan, but the potential reward was too great to ignore. As he walked towards his chambers, he recalled the ancient, forbidden magic he had once studied in secret. Fiendfyre – a magical fire of immense power and destruction, capable of consuming everything in its path.

Later that night, under the cover of darkness, Jaehaerys made his way to the entrance of the caves, accompanied by a small, trusted detachment of guards. He stood at the mouth of the cave, the cold night air biting at his skin.

Taking a deep breath, he spoke a single word, his voice low and filled with power.

“Fiendfyre!”

A spark of flame appeared in his hand, growing rapidly into a roaring inferno. The Fiendfyre writhed and twisted like a living beast, its flames hungry and insatiable. With a final, powerful flourish of his hand, Jaehaerys unleashed the Fiendfyre into the depths of the cave.

The magical fire surged forward, filling the cavernous tunnels with its destructive force. The Triarchy forces within had no time to react; the Fiendfyre consumed everything in its path, leaving nothing but ashes and charred remains.

From the safety of their perimeter, Daemon and Corlys watched as the entrance of the cave glowed with an eerie, otherworldly light. The ground trembled, and the air was filled with the sound of crackling flames and distant screams.

When the Fiendfyre finally subsided, the cave system was silent, the threat of the Triarchy forces within effectively neutralized. Jaehaerys, his face pale and drawn from the exertion, returned to his allies.

"It is done," he said simply, his voice tinged with exhaustion. "The caves are no longer a threat."

Daemon and Corlys exchanged a glance, a mixture of awe and concern in their eyes. They knew better than to press Jaehaerys for details, understanding that some secrets were best left untold.

As the dawn broke over Bloodstone, the Targaryen forces prepared to move forward, their path to victory now clear thanks to Jaehaerys's bold and secretive plan.

—

An exhausted Jaehaerys staggered back to his tent, his body weary from the immense exertion of casting the Fiendfyre. As he collapsed onto his cot, his mind buzzed with the aftermath of the powerful magic he had unleashed. Outside, the Targaryen forces remained vigilant, keeping watch for any Triarchy survivors attempting to escape the inferno within the caves. The heat emanating from the cave entrance was still too intense for anyone to venture inside.

Meanwhile, in a nearby command tent, Daemon, Corlys, Garth, and Vaelar gathered around a table laden with wine. The atmosphere was tense yet filled with an undercurrent of awe. They poured themselves goblets of the rich red liquid, their minds still reeling from the spectacle they had witnessed.

Daemon was the first to speak, his voice carrying a mixture of pride and concern. "I've seen Jaehaerys perform magic before, but nothing like this. Fiendfyre... it’s beyond dangerous. It's incredible and terrifying."

Garth, who had also witnessed Jaehaerys's earlier feats, nodded in agreement. "Aye, he always had a talent, but this... this is something else entirely. The sheer power it took to control that fire..."

Corlys took a sip of his wine, his gaze thoughtful. "It was necessary. The Triarchy had to be dealt with swiftly and decisively. Jaehaerys knew what was at stake. But I can't help but worry about the toll it takes on him."

Vaelar, who had fought alongside Jaehaerys in Essos, leaned back in his chair, a wry smile playing on his lips. "You think this is the first time I've seen him do something like this? Fighting slavers in Essos, we encountered situations where only such extreme measures could turn the tide. Jaehaerys's magic is a weapon, one he wields with precision and a heavy heart."

Daemon frowned, swirling the wine in his goblet. "He takes on too much, feels the weight of every life lost and every decision made. I fear it will consume him one day."

Corlys placed a reassuring hand on Daemon's shoulder. "We must support him, ensure he knows he doesn’t bear this burden alone. Our strength lies in our unity, in standing by each other through the darkest times."

Garth raised his goblet. "To Jaehaerys, and to the victory his courage and power have brought us. May we always stand strong together."

The others echoed the toast, their goblets clinking in a solemn yet determined chorus. They drank deeply, each man lost in his own thoughts about the future and the role they would play in supporting their prince.

Vaelar set down his goblet, his expression serious. "Remember, the fire he unleashed in those caves is just a glimpse of what he’s capable of. As his allies and friends, we must be ready to help him bear the burden of such power. It is not an easy path he walks, but together, we can ensure it leads to the peace and prosperity we all seek."

The others nodded in agreement, their resolve strengthened. As the night wore on, they continued their discussions, strategizing for the battles to come and solidifying the bonds of trust and loyalty that would see them through the trials ahead. Outside, the cave still smoldered, a testament to the devastating force Jaehaerys had unleashed to protect his people and secure their victory.

—

Meanwhile, in another tent, Rhaenyra and Laena gathered with the other women to discuss the recent events. The tent was filled with a mixture of tension and curiosity, each woman bringing her unique perspective to the conversation.

Rhaenyra sat beside Laena, her brow furrowed in thought. "I can't believe Jaehaerys didn't share his plan with us," she began, her voice tinged with frustration. "What could be so secretive that even we couldn't be trusted with it?"

Laena nodded in agreement. "It's unsettling, but I trust him. He wouldn't keep us in the dark unless it was absolutely necessary."

Rhaenys, Laena's mother and a seasoned warrior herself, leaned forward. "Jaehaerys is wise beyond his years. He must have had a good reason. We need to trust in his judgment, even if it feels difficult."

Rhea, Daemon's wife and the Lady of Runestone, added her perspective. "Whatever it was, it worked. The threat has been neutralized, and our path is clearer. But I share your concern, Rhaenyra. Secrecy can be dangerous, even among allies."

Myrcella, known for her keen intellect and skill with a bow, spoke up next. "Perhaps it was a matter of necessity. If the Triarchy had gotten wind of our plans, it could have been disastrous. Sometimes, secrecy is the best weapon we have."

Lyra Mormont, the Lady Commander of the Scarlet Shadows and Rhaenyra's personal Sworn Shield, nodded in agreement. "Prince Jaehaerys is a formidable leader. We need to support his decisions and remain vigilant. Our duty is to protect you, Rhaenyra, and ensure the safety of the realm."

Sarya Stone, the second in command of the Scarlet Shadows and Laena's future Sworn Shield, added, "We must also be prepared for any eventuality. The war is far from over, and we need to stay united."

Rhaenyra sighed, feeling a bit of the tension ease as she listened to the wisdom of the women around her. "You're right. We must trust in Jaehaerys and remain focused on our duties. Together, we are strong."

Laena reached out and squeezed Rhaenyra's hand. "We'll get through this, Rhaenyra. We're all in this together."

The women exchanged determined looks, their resolve strengthened by their shared commitment to the Targaryen cause. As they continued their discussion, they knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them united, with unwavering loyalty and strength.

—

In the aftermath of the Fiendfyre attack, Jaehaerys retreated to his tent, feeling the weight of magical exhaustion pressing heavily upon him. Hours had passed since he had unleashed the destructive spell, and the toll on his body and mind was profound.

Inside the tent, he sank into a chair, his breathing labored. His skin was pallid, and beads of sweat dotted his forehead. He closed his eyes, trying to regain some semblance of strength. The energy drain was immense, and he knew it would take time to recover fully.

The tent flap rustled, and Rhaenyra entered quietly, accompanied by Laena. They had been informed of his condition and came to check on him. Seeing him so weakened, their hearts ached with concern.

"Jaehaerys," Rhaenyra said softly, approaching his side. "You look exhausted. Are you alright?"

He opened his eyes and gave her a tired smile. "I'll be fine, Rhaenyra. Just need some rest. The spell took more out of me than I anticipated."

Laena stepped forward, her expression mirroring Rhaenyra's worry. "You shouldn't push yourself so hard. We need you at your best, especially now."

"I know," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it was necessary. The Triarchy would have posed a greater threat if we hadn't dealt with them decisively."

Rhaenyra knelt beside him, her eyes filled with worry. "Just promise me you'll take it easy for a while. We can't afford to lose you."

"I promise," Jaehaerys said, his grip on her hand firm despite his exhaustion. "I won't take any unnecessary risks."

Laena placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Rest now, Jaehaerys. We'll handle things until you're back on your feet."

As they sat together, a sense of calm washed over him. The presence of Rhaenyra and Laena, with their unwavering support and love, was a balm to his weary soul. He leaned back, closing his eyes again, allowing himself to rest.

Outside the tent, the camp buzzed with activity. The Targaryen forces were preparing for the next phase of their campaign, emboldened by their recent success. Daemon and Corlys, ever the vigilant commanders, ensured that every detail was attended to, their focus unwavering.

But within the tent, for a brief moment, Jaehaerys allowed himself the luxury of peace.

—

Meanwhile, Daemon and Corlys, accompanied by Vaelar, Garth, and Laenor, sifted through the charred remains of the Triarchy soldiers being pulled out of the cave. The air was thick with the acrid smell of burnt flesh, and the ground was littered with the blackened bodies of those who had perished in the inferno unleashed by Jaehaerys.

Daemon's eyes were sharp and focused as he inspected each corpse, looking for any sign that Cragas Drahar, the Myrish prince-admiral, was among the dead. "We need to confirm his death," Daemon said, his voice grim. "If Drahar is gone, it will signify the end of this war."

Corlys nodded in agreement, his expression equally stern. "The Triarchy won't stand without him. This is our best chance to bring lasting peace to the Stepstones."

Vaelar, his face a mask of determination, methodically examined each body. "We must be thorough. Drahar is cunning. If he's still alive, he could regroup and strike back."

Garth and Laenor worked alongside them, their expressions reflecting the gravity of the task. Laenor, still young and eager to prove himself, was particularly diligent, carefully turning over each body and checking for any distinguishing features.

As they continued their grim search, the silence was punctuated only by the crackling of cooling embers and the occasional murmur of soldiers assisting in the task. The weight of the moment hung heavily over them, each man understanding the significance of finding Drahar's body.

Hours passed, and the pile of bodies they had examined grew larger. Frustration began to creep into their minds, but they pushed it aside, knowing that they could not afford to be careless. The fate of the realm depended on their thoroughness.

Finally, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows over the battlefield, Vaelar stopped abruptly. He motioned for the others to gather around. "This one," he said, pointing to a particularly charred corpse with distinctive armor that had managed to partially survive the flames. "The armor matches the descriptions of Drahar's personal guard."

Daemon crouched down, examining the remains closely. He nodded slowly, recognizing the symbols and craftsmanship that marked the armor as belonging to the Triarchy's prince-admiral. "It appears we've found him," Daemon said, standing up and looking at the others.

Corlys let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "This is it, then. We've won."

Laenor, eyes wide with a mix of relief and triumph, glanced at Daemon. "What now, Cousin?"

Daemon's gaze was steely. "Now, we ensure the realm knows of our victory. We bring this news back to the king and prepare for the peace we've fought so hard to achieve."

As they prepared to leave the scene, the weight of their victory settled upon them. The war that had raged across the Stepstones was drawing to a close, and the future of the realm looked brighter for their efforts.

—

Word of the Targaryen victory at the Stepstones spread swiftly, carried by raven and ship to King's Landing. The city buzzed with excitement and relief as the news reached its inhabitants, bringing a long-awaited sense of peace and triumph to the capital.

In the Red Keep, King Viserys sat in the small council room with his advisors when a messenger burst into the chamber, breathless and exhilarated. "Your Grace," the messenger announced, bowing deeply. "We have received word from the Stepstones. The Triarchy has been defeated. Cragas Drahar is dead, and our forces are victorious."

A murmur of astonished delight rippled through the room. Viserys stood, his face lighting up with a mixture of relief and pride. "This is excellent news," he declared, his voice resonating with joy. "Summon the court. We must celebrate this victory and honor those who have fought so valiantly."

The court assembled quickly, nobles and courtiers eager to hear the details of the triumph. Viserys addressed them, his eyes shining with pride. "Our brave warriors, led by Prince Jaehaerys Prince Daemon, Lord Corlys Velaryon, have secured a decisive victory in the Stepstones. The Triarchy is no more, and the realm is safe once more."

Applause and cheers erupted in the hall, echoing off the walls of the Great Hall. The people of King's Landing had endured years of uncertainty and war, and this victory heralded a new era of peace and stability.

Lady Alicent, the soon-to-be Queen stood nearby, her expression carefully composed, though a flicker of unease crossed her face. The Targaryen victory meant that the balance of power within the realm was shifting, and she knew that her father, Otto Hightower, would be considering the implications.

As the court celebrated, plans were quickly made to honor the returning heroes. Preparations for feasts and tournaments began in earnest, and the streets of King's Landing buzzed with the excitement of impending festivities.

In the days that followed, banners were hung, and the city was adorned in the Targaryen colors. The populace eagerly awaited the return of their victorious warriors, ready to celebrate the hard-won peace that had been secured through their bravery and sacrifice.

—-

Otto Hightower had received the news of the victory in the Stepstones with a mixed sense of relief and concern. He knew that the end of the war would bring stability to the realm, something he had long advocated for. However, the increased power and influence of the Targaryens, particularly Jaehaerys, posed a new challenge to his carefully laid plans.

Otto paced his chambers, his mind racing. He knew he needed to adjust his strategies to account for the newfound strength of the Targaryen dynasty. The Targaryens’ victory would likely bolster their popularity among the lords and smallfolk, making it even harder to challenge their authority.

His daughter’s impending marriage to King Viserys was a key part of his strategy, but Otto understood that it was not enough on its own. He needed to find a way to ensure that his influence remained strong and that the Targaryens did not grow too powerful. As he pondered his next move, a knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

"Come in," Otto called, straightening his posture.

A trusted advisor entered, bowing respectfully. "Lord Hand, the news of the victory has spread throughout the city. The people are celebrating, and the court is abuzz with talk of the Targaryens' success."

Otto nodded, his mind already working on how to spin the situation to his advantage. "Thank you. Ensure that the celebrations do not get out of hand. We must maintain order."

The advisor bowed again and left, leaving Otto alone with his thoughts. He knew he needed to act swiftly and decisively. The Targaryen victory was a double-edged sword, one that could either strengthen his position or cut it down entirely. He resolved to strengthen his alliances and find new ways to exert his influence over the court and the king.

As he looked out the window at the bustling city below, Otto Hightower knew that the coming days would be critical. The Targaryens' victory had changed the game, but he was determined to ensure that he would remain a key player in the ever-shifting power dynamics of the realm.

—-

Back at Bloodstone, Jaehaerys and Corlys gathered in the command tent, a large map of the Stepstones spread out before them. The sense of victory was palpable, but there was still much to discuss and plan for the future stability of the region.

Jaehaerys, still pale from his exertion, traced his fingers over the map. "With the Triarchy defeated, we need to ensure our control over the Stepstones. This region has been a thorn in the side of the realm for too long."

Corlys nodded, his eyes scanning the map thoughtfully. "I agree. We need a strong presence here, something more permanent to enforce our rule and protect our interests."

Jaehaerys looked up at Corlys, a determined gleam in his eyes. "We should build a keep here at Bloodstone. Use the spoils of this campaign to fund its construction. This keep will be the seat of my firstborn son with Laena. He will be the Lord Paramount of the Narrow Sea, ruling over the islands of the Stepstones, as well as Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh."

Corlys's face lit up with pride. "A wise decision. The Narrow Sea is a vital region, and having a strong, loyal lord to govern it will ensure its stability. Your son will have the support of House Velaryon and the might of the Targaryen dragons."

Jaehaerys smiled, appreciating the support. "Together, we can make this region prosper. The keep will not only be a fortress but a symbol of our enduring power and the unity between our houses."

Corlys leaned over the map, pointing to potential locations for the keep. "We should build it on the highest point of the island, with a clear view of the surrounding waters. It will serve as a deterrent to any who might think to challenge our rule."

Jaehaerys nodded in agreement. "Agreed. We'll start the construction immediately. We'll also need to establish a garrison and fortify the surrounding islands to protect against future threats."

Corlys added, "I'll see to it that the Velaryon fleet patrols these waters regularly. No enemy will dare to cross us again."

The two men continued to discuss the details, their plans forming a comprehensive strategy for the future. The construction of the keep and the establishment of a new lordship would ensure the Targaryen and Velaryon dominance over the Narrow Sea, bringing peace and prosperity to the region.

"First, we need to secure the highest point on Bloodstone for the keep," Jaehaerys stated, pointing to a prominent hill on the map. "Its position will allow us to monitor all naval movements and provide an imposing presence to any potential threats."

Corlys nodded, studying the map intently. "It will need to be well-fortified. Thick walls, strong gates, and ample provisions to withstand a siege. We'll also need to ensure there's enough space for a significant garrison."

Jaehaerys considered this. "We'll enlist the finest stonemasons and builders from the conquered cities and across Westeros. The keep must not only be defensible but also a symbol of our power and unity."

"We should include a grand hall," Corlys suggested. "A place where your son can hold court, hear petitions, and host allies. It will be a center of governance as well as a fortress."

Jaehaerys agreed. "Yes, and we'll need to incorporate a harbor at the base of the hill, with docks capable of hosting the largest of ships. This will ensure swift movement of troops and supplies."

Corlys leaned in closer to the map, his finger tracing routes across the islands. "We'll establish smaller fortifications on the other islands. Each will serve as an outpost, ensuring no corner of the Stepstones is left unguarded."

Jaehaerys added, "And we'll station loyal troops in each outpost, with dragons patrolling the skies regularly. The presence of our dragons alone will deter most threats."

"I'll see to it that the Velaryon fleet maintains constant vigilance," Corlys said. "With our ships and your dragons, we will have unmatched control over these waters."

As they continued to flesh out their plans, they also discussed the integration of the newly conquered cities into their fold. "I have already appointed trusted generals from the Dragon Legion as governors in Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh," Jaehaerys said. "Their leadership will ensure a smooth transition and maintain order."

Corlys agreed. "These cities will become vital parts of our realm, contributing to its wealth and strength. We'll establish trade routes and promote economic growth, binding them to our cause."

Jaehaerys's eyes gleamed with determination. "We'll create a realm where peace and prosperity are the norm, not the exception. A realm where our legacy will endure for generations."

As they wrapped up their meeting, the sense of a new beginning was palpable. The war had tested their mettle, but it had also forged a stronger, more unified front. With their combined efforts, the Targaryens and Velaryons were poised to usher in an era of unprecedented stability and growth in the Stepstones and beyond.

Chapter Text

King Viserys sat in his chambers, meticulously working on his wooden model of Old Valyria. The intricate details of the ancient city absorbed his attention, the soft glow of candlelight casting flickering shadows over the model. The king found solace in this craft, a connection to his ancestors and a symbol of Targaryen heritage.

A knock at the door pulled him from his concentration. Ser Ryam Redwyne, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, entered with a grave yet excited expression. "Your Grace, the fleet that conquered the Stepstones can be seen on the horizon," he announced.

Viserys looked up, a mixture of relief and anticipation crossing his features. "And the dragons?" he asked, knowing the answer but needing to hear it.

Ser Ryam nodded. "The dragons are with them, Your Grace. They are descending from the clouds as we speak."

At that moment, loud roars echoed through the Red Keep, resonating through the stone walls. Viserys and Ser Ryam moved to the balcony, where they could see the sky.

The sight was awe-inspiring. All six dragons—Gaelithox, Vhagar, Meleys, Caraxes, Syrax, and Seasmoke—were descending from the heavens, their majestic forms breaking through the clouds. They circled the city of King’s Landing, their scales catching the light of the setting sun, making them glisten like jewels in the sky.

The dragons' roars were deafening, a symphony of power and victory. It was as if they were announcing their triumphant return, celebrating the hard-fought conquest of the Stepstones. The city below buzzed with excitement and awe as the citizens looked up, their faces reflecting a mix of fear and reverence.

Viserys watched in silent wonder, his heart swelling with pride. The return of his kin and their dragons signified not just a military victory, but a reinforcement of Targaryen dominance and unity. The sight of the dragons flying in formation, strong and unbroken, filled him with a sense of hope for the future.

"Prepare to receive them," Viserys said to Ser Ryam, his voice steady. "Let the people see their heroes return. This is a day to be remembered."

Ser Ryam bowed and hurried off to make the necessary arrangements. Viserys remained on the balcony, watching the dragons complete their lap of victory. As they began to descend towards the Dragonpit, he knew that this moment would be etched in the annals of history as a testament to Targaryen strength and resolve.

The fleet, now visible on the horizon, approached the harbor, their sails billowing in the wind. The combined presence of the dragons and the fleet signaled a formidable display of power and coordination. The dragonlords and their riders had returned as victors, their dragons’ roars continuing to echo through the city, filling every corner with their triumphant sound.

Below, the citizens of King’s Landing had gathered in the streets, their eyes wide with awe and admiration. Children pointed to the sky, their faces lighting up with excitement, while their parents whispered tales of the dragons' might and the bravery of their riders. Market stalls came to a halt as vendors and customers alike craned their necks to witness the spectacle. The city guard, usually stoic and composed, found themselves grinning, unable to contain their pride.

The dragons, led by the majestic Gaelithox and the venerable Vhagar, landed one by one in the Dragonpit, their immense forms settling with grace despite their size. Dragonkeepers rushed forward, guiding the great beasts to their designated areas and ensuring their comfort after the long journey. The ground shook as each dragon landed, the sheer power of their presence a tangible force.

Viserys could see Daemon, Rhaenyra, Laena, and the others dismounting from their dragons, their armor gleaming in the waning sunlight. They were met with cheers and applause, the sound rising like a wave from the assembled crowd. Daemon, ever the warrior, raised his sword in acknowledgment, his fierce smile visible even from the distance.

Rhaenyra, beside him, exuded a calm confidence, her bond with Syrax evident in the gentle way she patted her dragon’s neck. Laena stood tall and proud, a warrior in her own right, the bond with her dragon Vhagar a testament to her strength and courage.

Corlys, ever the strategist, was already directing his sailors, ensuring that the fleet was secured and ready for the next steps. His presence, commanding and assured, brought a sense of order and discipline amidst the celebration.

Jaehaerys, though exhausted from his exertions, managed a proud wave to the people, his expression determined despite the toll the Fiendfyre spell had taken on him. His leadership and the powerful magic he wielded had been crucial to their victory, and he bore the respect and admiration of all who saw him.

As Viserys descended from the balcony and made his way to greet the returning heroes, he felt a renewed sense of purpose and unity. The Targaryens had proven their might, their dragons a symbol of their enduring power. Together, they would build a future that honored their legacy and secured their place in history.

—

Jaehaerys, still feeling the weight of magical exhaustion but recovering rapidly, settled into the plush seat of the carriage that would take him from the Dragonpit to the Red Keep. The journey, though short, offered him a moment of respite. Beside him, Rhaenyra and Laena sat, their concern for him evident in their expressions and actions.

Rhaenyra leaned in closer, her eyes scanning his face for any sign of lingering discomfort. "Jaehaerys, you should rest more. You've done so much already," she said, her voice a blend of admiration and worry.

Laena, seated on his other side, nodded in agreement. "Rhaenyra is right. Your strength and magic saved us, but you need to take care of yourself now," she added, her hand gently resting on his arm.

Jaehaerys managed a faint smile, appreciating their care. "I'm alright, truly. The spell took its toll, but seeing our family and dragons safe brings me more strength than any rest could," he replied, his voice soft yet resolute.

Rhaenyra, ever the attentive betrothed, reached up to brush a strand of hair from his face. "You're too modest, Jaehaerys. What you did was incredible. You must promise to let us help you more, though," she said, her touch tender and reassuring.

Laena chimed in, her tone lightening to lift his spirits. "Consider this your first royal decree as our future king: you must listen to us when we tell you to rest," she teased, her smile brightening the carriage's interior.

Jaehaerys chuckled softly, the sound easing some of the tension in his muscles. "Very well, my queens-to-be. I shall heed your counsel," he said, his gaze shifting between the two women. "Thank you both for being here. Your presence is the greatest comfort I could ask for."

As the carriage rolled through the streets of King's Landing, the cheers of the citizens echoed outside, celebrating the return of their dragonlords. The sight of their beloved heroes and the majestic dragons circling the city had ignited a wave of jubilation and relief.

Inside the carriage, Rhaenyra and Laena continued to dote on Jaehaerys, ensuring he was comfortable and at ease. They spoke of their plans for the future, the stability they would bring to the Stepstones, and the legacy they would build together. Each word and gesture was filled with love and a shared determination to support one another through the trials ahead.

By the time they reached the Red Keep, Jaehaerys felt significantly better, bolstered not just by his rapid physical recovery, but by the unwavering support of his betrothed. As they stepped out of the carriage, the sight of the Red Keep, resplendent under the afternoon sun, greeted them. The grandeur of their home served as a reminder of their duty and the strength they drew from one another.

Hand in hand, they made their way inside, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, united in their purpose and strengthened by their bond.

—

King Viserys Targaryen sat at the head of the Small Council table in the Red Keep, his expression a mix of pride and relief as he awaited the arrival of the "Heroes of the Narrow Sea." The council chamber was abuzz with anticipation, the air heavy with the scent of parchment and beeswax candles.

At Viserys' side, his Hand, Otto Hightower, maintained his usual composed demeanor, though his thoughts were inscrutable behind a carefully masked facade. Ser Ryam Redwyne, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, stood nearby, his white cloak draped regally over his armor, a silent sentinel to the proceedings. Lord Lyman Beesbury, Master of Coin, and Lord Lyonel Strong, Master of Law, sat in their respective seats.

King Viserys tapped his fingers lightly on the polished wooden table, his mind racing with plans for the festivities and the future of the conquered territories. As the chamber doors swung open, a hush fell over the assembled councilors.

Jaehaerys Targaryen walked in, his presence commanding the room. Flanking him were Daemon Targaryen, his eyes gleaming with the satisfaction of victory, and Lord Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake, his demeanor as proud and resolute as ever.

Viserys rose from his seat, a broad smile spreading across his face. "Welcome, my brothers. Welcome, Lord Corlys," he greeted warmly, his voice filled with pride. "The Heroes of the Narrow Sea return in triumph."

The councilors around the table stood as well, acknowledging the returning heroes with nods and murmurs of respect. Otto Hightower maintained his composed demeanor, though his eyes flickered with a hint of something unreadable.

Jaehaerys stepped forward, bowing slightly to his father. "Your Grace," he said, his voice steady but edged with the weariness of recent battles. "The Stepstones are ours. The Triarchy is defeated."

Daemon, never one to stand on ceremony, grinned. "It was a good fight. They won't be troubling us again."

Lord Corlys nodded in agreement. "Our fleets control the Narrow Sea, and the dragons have secured our dominance. The realm is safe."

Viserys beamed, his pride evident. "You have all done a great service to the realm. Your bravery and leadership have brought us victory. We will celebrate this triumph, and the realm will know of your deeds."
Otto Hightower stepped forward, his expression neutral but his words measured. "Indeed, this is a significant victory for the Targaryen dynasty. The stability of the Narrow Sea is crucial for our continued prosperity."

Jaehaerys met Otto’s gaze, his demeanor composed yet resolute. "I have already named my most trusted commanders from the Black Dragon Legion as the Lords of Myr, Lys, and Tyrosh," he announced. "These men have proven their loyalty and capability in battle, and they will ensure the smooth transition of power and stability in these cities."

The councilors murmured in approval, recognizing the strategic wisdom in Jaehaerys’s choices.

"I will also be appointing leaders for the other smaller islands within the Stepstones," Jaehaerys continued. "However, Bloodstone will be an exception. On that island, under the supervision of Vaelar and Garth, we are in the process of building a keep. This keep will serve as a stronghold and symbol of our enduring power in the region."

He paused, letting his words sink in before delivering the most significant part of his plan. "This keep will be the seat of my firstborn son with Laena. He will be the Lord of Bloodstone and 'Warden of the Narrow Sea.'"

Viserys nodded in approval, his eyes gleaming with pride. "A wise and farsighted plan, Jaehaerys. Your actions will cement our control and ensure the prosperity of these lands under Targaryen rule."

Lord Corlys spoke up, his voice carrying the weight of his seafaring expertise. "With Bloodstone fortified and the rest of the Stepstones under our control, the Narrow Sea will be secure. Our fleets and dragons will patrol the waters, deterring any who might challenge us."

Daemon smirked, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. "Let them try. They’ll find only fire and blood."

Otto Hightower, his features still carefully masked, nodded in agreement. "The realm owes you a great debt, Prince Jaehaerys. Your strategic thinking and decisive actions have brought us this victory. We must now consolidate our gains and ensure lasting peace."

Jaehaerys inclined his head, acknowledging the support of the Small Council. "Together, we will build a legacy that will stand the test of time. The Targaryen dynasty will flourish, and the Narrow Sea will be a beacon of our strength."

As the councilors returned to their discussions, the sense of unity and purpose in the room was unmistakable. The future of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea was secure, guided by the firm hand of the Targaryen leadership.

—

Meanwhile, Alicent Hightower made her way through the corridors of the Red Keep, her mind occupied with thoughts of the recent victory and the role Rhaenyra had played in it. The tension between them had been palpable for some time, but Alicent hoped that this momentous occasion could be a bridge towards reconciliation. Unbeknownst to her, Jaehaerys had been instrumental in encouraging Rhaenyra to mend their relationship.

Reaching Rhaenyra’s chambers, Alicent took a deep breath and knocked lightly on the door. A moment later, the door opened to reveal Rhaenyra, her expression one of surprise mixed with curiosity.

"Alicent," Rhaenyra greeted, stepping aside to let her in. "What brings you here?"

Alicent smiled warmly, trying to convey sincerity in her gaze. "I came to congratulate you on your exploits during the War in the Stepstones. Your bravery and skill were instrumental in our victory."

Rhaenyra inclined her head, her demeanor cautious yet open. "Thank you, Alicent. It was a difficult campaign, but I’m glad we were able to secure a victory for the realm."

Alicent entered the room fully, taking a seat by the window where the late afternoon sun cast a warm glow. "I also wanted to speak with you," she began, her tone more personal. "I know things have been strained between us, but I hope we can find a way to move past that. The realm needs us to be united, especially now."

Rhaenyra sat across from her, her expression thoughtful. She recalled Jaehaerys' advice, the importance of keeping Alicent close to be privy to her father's schemes. "I’ve felt the strain as well. There’s been much unsaid between us, and I think it’s time we address it."

Alicent nodded, relief washing over her. "I agree. The war has shown us how fragile peace can be, and how important it is for us to support one another. I miss the friendship we once had."

Rhaenyra’s eyes softened, a hint of nostalgia touching her features. "So do I, Alicent. Perhaps we can start anew, build a foundation based on mutual respect and understanding."

Alicent smiled, genuine and hopeful. "I would like that very much. We can work together to ensure the stability and prosperity of the realm, just as we always envisioned."

For a moment, the tension between them seemed to dissipate, replaced by a shared sense of purpose and the beginnings of renewed camaraderie. The road to reconciliation would not be easy, but both women were willing to take the first steps.

As they continued to talk, the conversation turned to lighter topics, memories of their past friendship, and hopes for the future. The bond they had once shared began to rekindle, a small flame that could grow into something stronger with time and effort.

As the evening wore on, the atmosphere between Alicent and Rhaenyra grew more relaxed and familiar. The tension that had previously defined their relationship began to melt away, replaced by genuine warmth and a renewed sense of camaraderie. They spoke of past memories, their shared experiences, and their hopes for the future, finding common ground once more.

Rhaenyra, while brushing Alicent's hair, marveled at how easily the old bond between them could be rekindled. She felt a renewed determination to maintain this friendship, not just for political reasons, but because she genuinely missed the connection they once shared. The loose strands of hair she had discreetly collected lay tucked away in her pocket, a reminder of Jaehaerys' request and the delicate balance she was striving to maintain.

As the sun set and the room grew dimmer, Rhaenyra lit a few candles, casting a warm, flickering light around the chamber. Alicent looked around, her eyes reflecting the candlelight. "It's nice to feel at ease with you again," she admitted softly. "I've missed this."

Rhaenyra smiled, her heart lightened by Alicent's words. "I've missed it too, Alicent. It's been too long since we've been able to talk like this."

Alicent sighed, looking out the window at the darkening sky. "The realm can be such a heavy burden. But moments like these remind me why we endure it."

Rhaenyra nodded in agreement. "Yes, the weight of our responsibilities is immense, but we have to support each other. It's the only way we can manage the challenges ahead."

The two women sat in companionable silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. The conversation had brought them closer, healing some of the rifts that had formed over the years. They both knew that this reconciliation was only the beginning and that maintaining their renewed friendship would require effort and trust.

Eventually, Alicent stood, smoothing her skirts. "I should go. There are preparations to be made for the celebrations tomorrow."

Rhaenyra rose as well, walking Alicent to the door. "Thank you for coming, Alicent. It means a lot to me."

Alicent smiled warmly. "It was long overdue. Goodnight, Rhaenyra."

"Goodnight, Alicent."

As Alicent left, Rhaenyra closed the door behind her, feeling a sense of accomplishment. She had managed to take the first steps towards reconciling with Alicent, just as Jaehaerys had advised. She also had the lock of hair he had requested, though she still did not fully understand why he needed it. Trusting in his judgment, she would ensure it reached him discreetly.

Rhaenyra returned to her seat by the window, looking out at the stars now twinkling in the night sky. The future was uncertain, but she felt a renewed sense of hope. With Jaehaerys' guidance, her own determination, and the rekindling of her friendship with Alicent, she believed they could navigate the complex politics of the realm and ensure a brighter future for House Targaryen.

—

The next morning, Rhaenyra found a discreet moment to pass the lock of Alicent’s hair to Jaehaerys. They exchanged a brief, knowing look, and she felt reassured by his confidence. As she handed over the small bundle, Jaehaerys nodded appreciatively.

"Thank you, Rhaenyra," he said softly. "This will help us more than you know."

Rhaenyra nodded, her curiosity piqued but her trust in Jaehaerys unshaken. "I hope it does. Let's make sure our efforts aren't in vain."

Together, they prepared for the celebrations to honor the "Heroes of the Narrow Sea," knowing that their actions behind the scenes were just as crucial as the victories won on the battlefield. The future of the realm depended on their unity, their strategy, and their unwavering commitment to House Targaryen's enduring legacy.

—

Daemon strode into Jaehaerys' chambers, his steps purposeful and his expression unreadable. The room was dimly lit, filled with the earthy scent of herbs and the faint, metallic tang of magic. At the far end, Jaehaerys stood over a cauldron, its contents bubbling softly. He seemed deeply engrossed in his task, stirring the mixture with a careful, practiced hand.

As the door closed behind Daemon, Jaehaerys looked up, his eyes locking onto his brother. "Daemon," he greeted, his voice low and steady. "Did you manage to acquire what was needed?"

Daemon approached, reaching into his tunic to pull out a small, carefully wrapped bundle. "I did," he replied, handing it over. "A lock of Viserys' hair, just as you asked."

Jaehaerys took the bundle, unwrapping it to reveal the strands of their brother's hair. He nodded, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. "Perfect. This will be crucial for the potion."

Daemon watched him with a glint of amusement in his eyes. "So, are we really going through with this plan? I must admit, it's an interesting way to pour water over Otto's schemes."

Jaehaerys set the lock of hair aside momentarily, focusing on adding another pinch of herbs to the cauldron. "Indeed, we've discussed the necessity of this precaution. Otto's ambitions cannot be allowed to undermine our family's stability. This potion will ensure Viserys and Alicent have six daughters before they can have a son, buying us the time we need."

Daemon crossed his arms, a smirk playing on his lips. "It's a clever move. By the time they realize something is amiss, it will be too late. And with no immediate male heir, Otto's plans will be stymied."

Jaehaerys met his gaze, his expression unwavering. "I’m well aware of the risks. But our enemies grow bolder, and we must be prepared. Ensuring that Viserys has no male heir immediately strengthens our position. This is the best way to ensure it without arousing suspicion."

Daemon nodded slowly, conceding the point. "Just be careful, brother. We don’t need any more complications."

Jaehaerys gave him a reassuring smile. "I will. Thank you for your help, Daemon. I couldn't have done this without you."

As Jaehaerys returned to his work, adding the lock of Viserys' and Alicent’s hair to the cauldron, Daemon watched in silence. The room filled with the soft glow of the potion, casting eerie shadows on the walls. The brothers stood together, united in their purpose, their resolve steeling against the challenges that lay ahead.

Outside, the Red Keep remained bustling with activity, the celebrations for the "Heroes of the Narrow Sea" in full swing. But within these chambers, a different kind of preparation was underway—one that could tip the balance of power in their favor and secure the future of House Targaryen.
Jaehaerys murmured an incantation, the words ancient and powerful, resonating in the small, enclosed space. The potion shimmered, then settled into a calm, silvery liquid. He carefully poured a portion into a vial, sealing it with wax.

Turning to Daemon, he held out the vial, his expression serious. "Daemon, this is crucial. Make sure to pour this only into Viserys and Alicent's goblets. No one else's. It must be done discreetly."

Daemon took the vial, nodding as he examined it. "I understand. Only Viserys and Alicent. I'll make sure it's done right."

Jaehaerys clasped his brother's shoulder, his grip firm. "This potion will ensure they have six daughters before a son. It's the best way to buy us time and prevent Otto's ambitions from taking root."

Daemon smirked, slipping the vial into his tunic. "Consider it done, brother. Otto won't know what hit him."

With their plan set in motion, the brothers exchanged a final look of solidarity. They both knew the stakes were high, but they were determined to secure the future of House Targaryen and safeguard their family's legacy.

—

In the dimly lit confines of a brothel on the Street of Silk, Mysaria sat at a small table, her slender fingers absently tracing the rim of a wine goblet. Her thoughts were far from the frivolous chatter around her, focused instead on the snippets of conversations she had subtly gleaned from the patrons and workers alike.

It had been a while since she had been Daemon's paramour and spymaster during his tenure as Lord Commander of the Gold Cloaks. Though her position had changed, her skills in gathering information had not waned. Tonight, those skills had brought her troubling news.

The air was thick with the scent of incense and perfumes, the flickering candlelight casting shadows across the faces of those gathered. Mysaria's dark eyes flickered with concern as she pieced together the fragments of information she had overheard.

Otto Hightower, the shrewd Hand of the King, was involved in a plot alongside the High Septon. Their aim was clear: to stoke public sentiment against Prince Jaehaerys and his use of magic. They intended to exploit fear and superstition to sway the masses, paving the way for the reinstatement of the Faith Militants.

The implications of such a plan were grave. The Faith Militants had historically wielded considerable influence and power, often at odds with the monarchy. If they were to regain prominence, it could destabilize the delicate balance of power that Viserys had struggled to maintain.

Closing her eyes briefly, Mysaria considered her options. She needed to relay this information to someone who could intervene, someone who understood the intricate web of politics and power in King's Landing.

Without hesitation, she rose from her seat, her movements fluid and purposeful. Ignoring the curious glances that followed her, she made her way out of the brothel and into the darkened streets. Her mind raced with the urgency of her mission—to find a way to protect Prince Jaehaerys and thwart Otto Hightower's dangerous scheme before it could plunge the realm into chaos once more.

As she vanished into the shadows of the Street of Silk, Mysaria knew that her role as a spy and informant was far from over. The game of thrones continued unabated, and she would play her part to ensure that those she once served and cared for remained safe in the face of looming threats.

Chapter Text

The grand hall of the Red Keep was alive with the sounds of celebration. The feast to commemorate the victory over the Stepstones was in full swing. Lords and ladies of the realm mingled, their laughter and chatter blending with the clinking of goblets and the rustle of fine silks. The tables were laden with an array of sumptuous dishes, from roasted boar to exotic fruits, and the air was thick with the aroma of spices and freshly baked bread.

At the far end of the hall, a bard stood upon a small platform, his lute in hand. His voice carried through the hall, weaving a tale that captured the attention of the revelers. His song, a ballad of heroism and cunning, told of Prince Jaehaerys' exploits during the war.

"Deep within the Stepstones' crags,
Where shadows weave their darkened flags,
The Triarchy soldiers lay in wait,
Their hearts were filled with fear and hate.

But Jaehaerys, brave and wise,
Saw through their cunning, their disguise,
With fire unknown and power dire,
He unleashed the fiendish fire.

The caves were filled with blazing light,
A dragon's breath, a fearsome sight,
A magic old, a spell untamed,
Engulfed the foes in searing flame.

No mortal flame, this fire dread,
With serpent tongues it swiftly spread,
Consumed all life within its grasp,
Turned stone to ash with fiery clasp.

The soldiers hid in shadowed gloom,
But Fiendfyre brought their fiery doom,
No place to run, no place to flee,
For Triarchy's men, no mercy, no plea.

The caves, once dark, were lit anew,
With flames that blazed both red and blue,
A cleansing fire, fierce and bright,
Turned darkest night to blinding light."

As the bard continued, the hall grew silent, all eyes and ears drawn to the vivid imagery his words conjured. Jaehaerys, seated near the head of the table alongside King Viserys and his other family members, could not help but feel a mix of pride and unease. The song painted him as a near-mythical figure, but he knew the truth of those harrowing nights spent battling in the caves and the forbidden magic he had dared to wield.

Rhaenyra and Laena, sitting beside him, exchanged glances of admiration and affection. Their eyes shone with pride for Jaehaerys, whose bravery had secured not only their victory but also their future. Even Daemon, leaning back with a goblet of wine in hand, allowed a rare smile to touch his lips as he listened.

The bard's song wove on, detailing the cunning traps Jaehaerys had set, the ambushes he had foiled, and the fierce battles fought in the darkness of the caves. The imagery of fire and magic left the audience in awe, their imaginations alight with the bard's vivid descriptions.

"With Fiendfyre's aid, our prince did stride,
Through narrow caves and corridors wide,
His enemies, in terror's grip,
Felt doom within their very midst.

Their schemes undone, their strength turned dust,
Their hopes and plans reduced to rust,
For Jaehaerys, with dragon's might,
Had turned the dark to blinding light.

So raise your cups, and let us cheer,
For the hero brave who knew no fear,
The prince who tamed the Fiendfyre's blaze,
And brought us peace in darkened days."

As the song concluded, a roar of applause erupted from the gathered nobles. Goblets were raised high in tribute to Jaehaerys, their voices chanting his name. 

"Jaehaerys! Jaehaerys!"

King Viserys stood, his eyes shining with pride as he looked down the table at his brother. "To my heir, Prince Jaehaerys, whose bravery and wisdom have brought us this great victory. The realm owes you a debt of gratitude."

Jaehaerys rose to acknowledge the applause, a humble smile on his lips. He lifted his goblet in a toast. "To the brave soldiers and allies who fought by my side, and to the peace we have secured for the realm. May it endure for generations to come."

As the revelry continued, Rhaenyra leaned in close to Jaehaerys. "The song was beautiful," she said softly. "You truly are a hero."

Jaehaerys chuckled, his expression warm. "The bard certainly has a way with words. But it was not just my doing. We all played our parts."

Laena nodded, her eyes filled with admiration. "Still, your bravery and quick thinking saved many lives. We are all proud of you."

Daemon, who had been watching the exchange with a smirk, raised his goblet in a silent toast to his brother. "To many more victories, Jaehaerys. And may the flames of Fiendfyre keep our enemies at bay."

Jaehaerys returned the toast, his mind momentarily drifting to the potion he had brewed and the plans they had set in motion. He hoped that their careful maneuvering would keep the realm safe and secure the future of House Targaryen.

The feast continued late into the night, the hall filled with music, laughter, and the warm glow of camaraderie. But even amidst the celebration, the wheels of intrigue and strategy continued to turn, setting the stage for the challenges and battles yet to come.

—

Daemon Targaryen moved with a purpose, the vial Jaehaerys had given him securely tucked away in his tunic. The revelry of the feast echoed through the corridors, a stark contrast to the quiet tension of Daemon's mission.

His eyes scanned the room, locking onto his targets: King Viserys and his betrothed, Alicent Hightower. They sat at the high table, surrounded by courtiers and nobility, their goblets filled with wine. Daemon moved closer, mingling with the guests, his demeanor casual but his mind focused on the task at hand.

As he neared the high table, he saw an opportunity. A servant approached with a tray of fresh goblets of wine. Daemon intercepted the servant, a charming smile on his lips. "Allow me to assist," he said smoothly, taking two goblets from the tray. The servant, caught off guard, nodded and moved on with the rest.

Daemon discreetly pulled out the vial, uncorking it with practiced ease. He poured the potion into the two goblets, watching as the liquid mixed seamlessly with the wine. With the deed done, he approached the high table, offering the goblets to Viserys and Alicent.

"Brother, future goodsister," Daemon said, his tone light and amiable. "A toast to your health and to the victory we celebrate tonight."

Viserys, his face flushed with joy and wine, accepted the goblet with a grin. "To victory," he echoed, lifting his goblet high. Alicent followed suit, her eyes shining as she smiled at Daemon.

"To victory," she repeated, her voice clear and bright.

Daemon watched intently as they drank, ensuring they consumed the potion-laced wine. A sense of satisfaction settled over him as he saw both Viserys and Alicent take generous sips, the potion now coursing through their veins. He raised his own goblet in a final silent toast, hiding the smirk that threatened to break free.

With the potion administered, Daemon slipped back into the crowd, his task complete. He felt a strange mix of triumph and unease, knowing the potential consequences of their actions. But his loyalty to Jaehaerys and their shared vision for the future of House Targaryen kept him resolute.

As the feast continued, Daemon returned to his seat beside Jaehaerys, leaning in to whisper in his brother's ear. "It's done. Viserys and Alicent drank the wine."

Jaehaerys nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Good. Now we wait and see. This will buy us the time we need."

The two brothers exchanged a knowing glance, their bond solidified by the secrets they shared and the plans they had set in motion. The future of the realm rested in their hands, and they were determined to shape it according to their vision.

—

As the feast continued, Jaehaerys found himself momentarily separated from Daemon. The noise of celebration and the scent of roasted meats filled the air. He was lost in thought when he felt a gentle tug on his arm. Turning, he saw Laena and Rhaenyra, their faces illuminated by the flickering torchlight, their eyes full of mischief and intent.

Without a word, they led him through a side door and down a dimly lit corridor, away from the prying eyes and ears of the revelers. The sounds of the feast grew fainter as they moved deeper into the secluded part of the Red Keep. Finally, they stopped in a small, candlelit alcove, the flickering light casting dancing shadows on the stone walls.

Laena was the first to speak, her voice a soft whisper. "We’ve missed you, Jaehaerys. With all the planning and plotting, there’s been little time for us."

Rhaenyra stepped closer, her hand gently cupping his cheek. "We wanted a moment alone with you. Just the three of us."

Before Jaehaerys could respond, Laena pressed her lips to his, a kiss full of longing and affection. Rhaenyra followed, her kiss equally passionate and tender. Jaehaerys found himself lost in the warmth and love of the two women, his mind momentarily free of the burdens and schemes that had consumed him.

The kisses deepened, and the world outside the alcove seemed to disappear. The only reality was the closeness and intimacy they shared, a stolen moment of peace and connection amidst the chaos of their lives. Laena’s hands were in his hair, and Rhaenyra’s arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer.

They took turns, their kisses lingering and full of unspoken promises. It was a reminder of what they fought for, the love and unity that bound them together. In this secluded corner of the Red Keep, away from the politics and intrigue, they found solace in each other.

Eventually, the need for air forced them to break apart, their breaths mingling in the cool, candlelit air. Jaehaerys looked at Laena and Rhaenyra, his heart swelling with affection. "I’ve missed you both too," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "These moments are what keep me going."

Laena smiled, her eyes shining. "We’ll have more of them, I promise. Once all of this is over."

Rhaenyra nodded, her fingers intertwining with Jaehaerys’. "Until then, we’ll take whatever moments we can get."

They shared one last lingering kiss, a silent vow to each other. Then, reluctantly, they stepped back, knowing they had to return to the feast. With their hearts a little lighter and their resolve a little stronger, they made their way back, ready to face whatever challenges awaited them.

As they rejoined the festivities, Jaehaerys felt a renewed sense of purpose. The love and support of Laena and Rhaenyra were his anchor, and with them by his side, he felt invincible. The future of House Targaryen was uncertain, but together, they were ready to shape it.

—

Meanwhile, Daemon was carefully observing the people attending the feast, when a servant approached him discreetly and handed him a folded piece of parchment. Daemon unfolded it quickly, his eyes scanning the familiar handwriting.

Daemon,  
I need to speak with you immediately. It's urgent. I'm waiting outside the hall.  
- Mysaria

Daemon's eyes narrowed. Mysaria wouldn’t risk summoning him during such an important event unless it was crucial. He cast a quick glance at Viserys and Alicent, noting their preoccupation with the bard’s song and the revelry. 

Slipping away from the feast, he navigated through the corridors of the Red Keep, his steps quick and silent. As he approached the main entrance, the cool night air greeted him, along with the shadowy figure of Mysaria, waiting just outside the hall. 

"Mysaria," Daemon greeted her in a low voice. "What’s so urgent that it couldn’t wait?"

Mysaria's eyes were sharp and alert. "I've uncovered a plan that you need to know about immediately. Otto Hightower and the High Septon are conspiring to turn the people against Jaehaerys. They intend to incite the crowds against his use of magic to reinstate the Faith Militant."

Daemon's expression darkened. "Are you certain?"

"Absolutely," she replied. "My sources are reliable. They plan to use the fear of dark magic to rally the Faithful and destabilize Jaehaerys’ position. We need to act quickly."

Daemon nodded, processing the information. "This complicates things. We can't let their plan come to fruition."

Mysaria stepped closer, her voice urgent. "There’s more. They’ve already started spreading rumors. It won't be long before the people are riled up and demanding action. We need a counter-strategy."

Daemon’s mind raced. "I need to get back to the hall. Jaehaerys must be informed, and we need to adjust our plans. Thank you, Mysaria. Your information is invaluable."

"Be careful, Daemon," Mysaria warned. "The situation is volatile, and one wrong move could ignite a fire we can't control."

Daemon nodded, his resolve steeled. "I will. Stay safe and keep gathering information. We’ll need every advantage we can get."

With a final, meaningful look, Daemon turned and headed back into the hall, his mind now juggling the urgent task of slipping the potion into Viserys and Alicent’s wine and the newly discovered threat against Jaehaerys. As he re-entered the feast, he spotted Jaehaerys returning from his secluded moment with Laena and Rhaenyra. He made his way over, determined to share the critical information discreetly.

Approaching Jaehaerys, he leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. "We have a problem. Otto and the High Septon are plotting to turn the people against you, using your magic as a pretext to reinstate the Faith Militant."

Jaehaerys' eyes flickered with a mix of concern and anger. "We need to address this immediately."

Daemon nodded. "Agreed."

As the two brothers exchanged a quick, meaningful glance, they knew the stakes had just been raised. The game was more dangerous than ever, and they would need to be smarter and more cunning to protect their family and their realm.

—

Back on the streets of King’s Landing, the tension was palpable. A growing number of Septon and Septa were strategically positioned throughout the bustling city, their voices rising above the din of everyday life. They spoke of dark magic and ancient curses, painting Prince Jaehaerys as a dangerous sorcerer whose use of forbidden powers threatened the very fabric of the realm.

"Beware the prince who dabbles in the dark arts!" cried one Septon, standing atop a crate in the crowded market square. "His magic will bring ruin upon us all!"

"Remember the Faith Militant!" shouted a Septa from the steps of a prominent sept. "Only through piety and devotion can we cleanse the realm of this unholy influence!"

The fearmongering began to take root, as whispers of doubt and fear spread among the common folk. However, just as the seeds of panic started to sprout, a group of soldiers who had fought in the Stepstones began to push back against the rising tide of suspicion.

"Hold your tongues!" bellowed Ser Harwin Strong, a knight who had served with distinction in the Stepstones. He stood tall and imposing, his voice carrying authority and conviction. "Prince Jaehaerys is a hero, a man who led us to victory against overwhelming odds. He saved countless lives with his courage and strategic brilliance."

The crowd murmured, some nodding in agreement while others remained skeptical. Another soldier, a grizzled veteran named Ser Gawen Corbray, stepped forward to add his voice to the defense. "I saw what he did with my own eyes. Those soldiers hidden in the caves would have slaughtered us all if not for Prince Jaehaerys. He used his knowledge and skill to protect us, not to harm us."

A young woman, a healer who had tended to the wounded on the battlefield, raised her voice next. "His magic is not dark or evil. It’s a gift that he uses to protect the realm and its people. Those who spread lies about him are either ignorant or malicious."

The Septon, momentarily taken aback by the soldiers' fervent defense, quickly tried to regain control. "You are blinded by your loyalty. Magic of that kind can only bring destruction."

Ser Harwin stepped forward, his eyes blazing with righteous anger. "And you are blinded by your fear and ignorance. We owe our lives to Prince Jaehaerys, and we will not stand by while you spread lies and incite fear. We fought for the realm, and we will fight to defend the honor of the man who led us to victory."

The crowd, now swayed by the passionate defense of the soldiers and healer, began to shift. Murmurs of agreement spread, and the fearmongering of the Septons and Septas started to lose its grip. The common folk, many of whom had family members or friends who had fought in the Stepstones, found it harder to believe the dark tales spun by the clergy.

Seeing their efforts to incite fear falter, the Septons and Septas exchanged worried glances. Their plan to undermine Prince Jaehaerys and rally support for the reinstatement of the Faith Militant was not going as smoothly as they had hoped.

As the soldiers continued to speak out, more people began to question the motives behind the fearmongering. The streets of King’s Landing, once filled with uncertainty and dread, now buzzed with a growing sense of unity and resolve. The defenders of Prince Jaehaerys had turned the tide, at least for now, and the attempts to sow discord were met with resistance and skepticism.

Back at the Red Keep, unaware of the drama unfolding in the streets, Jaehaerys and Daemon continued their intricate dance of politics and power. The information from Mysaria and the defense by the soldiers had bought them precious time. But the battle for hearts and minds was far from over, and they knew that their enemies would not give up so easily. The game was only just beginning.

—

In a dimly lit chamber deep within the underground chapel built long before King’s Landing was raised, the High Septon and Otto Hightower convened to discuss their recent setback. The air was thick with the scent of incense, and the flickering candlelight cast long shadows on the ancient stone walls. The mood was tense, frustration evident in their expressions.

Otto paced back and forth, his face a mask of barely controlled anger. "The soldiers from the Stepstones have thwarted our plans," he said, his voice low and sharp. "They’ve defended Prince Jaehaerys publicly, turning the crowd against our warnings."

The High Septon, seated on an ornate chair, folded his hands in contemplation. His eyes were narrowed, his expression one of deep concern. "It appears we underestimated the loyalty and influence of those who fought under Jaehaerys. Their testimonies have swayed the people, at least for now."

Otto stopped pacing and turned to face the High Septon, his eyes blazing with determination. "We cannot afford to let this continue. The prince's use of magic is a threat to both the realm and the Faith. If we do not act swiftly, his influence will only grow stronger."

The High Septon nodded slowly, his mind racing with possibilities. "We must find another way to undermine him, a way that cannot be easily countered by his supporters."

Otto approached the table in the center of the room, where a map of King’s Landing and its surrounding areas was spread out. He traced a finger along the lines, deep in thought. "Perhaps we need to shift our focus. If we cannot turn the people against him through fear alone, we must find another angle."

The High Septon leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with a new idea. "What if we expose his magic for what it truly is? We could find someone who has witnessed it firsthand, someone whose word would carry weight and who can be easily manipulated to serve our purpose."

Otto nodded slowly, considering the suggestion. "That might work, but it will require careful planning. We need to ensure that our informant is credible and their testimony irrefutable."

The High Septon stood, his robes rustling softly as he moved to join Otto by the map. "We must also be prepared to exploit any mistakes Jaehaerys might make. If we can catch him in an act that appears unquestionably malevolent, it will be easier to turn the people against him."

Otto’s eyes narrowed as he studied the map. "We should also strengthen our alliances within the court. There are those who already harbor suspicions about Jaehaerys and his magic. We can use their influence to further our cause."

The High Septon placed a hand on Otto's shoulder, a gesture of solidarity. "We must proceed with caution and precision. One wrong move could unravel everything we’ve worked for."

Otto nodded, his expression resolute. "Agreed. We will reconvene with our most trusted allies and devise a new strategy. Jaehaerys may have won this round, but the game is far from over."

As they parted ways, both men were determined to find a way to bring down Prince Jaehaerys. Their setback had only strengthened their resolve, and they knew that they needed to be more cunning and ruthless than ever. The future of the realm—and their own power—depended on it.

—

In a private chamber within the Red Keep, Daemon, Jaehaerys, Lord Corlys, Rhaenys, Laena, Laenor, and Rhaenyra convened to discuss their counterstrategy. The room was filled with a sense of urgency and determination, the air buzzing with the energy of their collective resolve. They had just received word of the soldiers’ staunch defense of Jaehaerys, a development that had buoyed their spirits and fortified their commitment to their cause.

Jaehaerys stood at the head of the table, his gaze sweeping over the gathered faces. "The soldiers' defense is a significant victory for us," he began, his voice calm and authoritative. "It shows that our actions in the Stepstones have earned us loyalty and respect. But we must be prepared for Otto and the High Septon's next move."

Daemon leaned against the wall, a smirk playing on his lips. "They're desperate now. They'll try something even more underhanded. We need to stay ahead of them."

Lord Corlys, his expression thoughtful, spoke up. "We should capitalize on the goodwill we've earned. Strengthen our alliances with the common folk and the nobility who support us. If we can rally more people to our cause, it will be harder for Otto and the High Septon to turn them against us."

Rhaenys nodded in agreement. "We must also be vigilant. They will likely attempt to smear Jaehaerys' name through false accusations or by exploiting any mistakes we make. We cannot give them any ammunition."

Laena, her eyes bright with determination, added, "We should also consider proactive measures. Discredit Otto and the High Septon before they can launch their next attack. Expose their schemes to the public."

Jaehaerys looked at Rhaenyra, who had been listening intently. "Rhaenyra, your presence and influence are vital. The people trust you, and your support will bolster our position."

Rhaenyra smiled slightly, her confidence clear. "I will do whatever is necessary to protect our family and the realm. We should also gather information on Otto and the High Septon's next moves. If we can anticipate their actions, we can counter them more effectively."

Laenor, who had been quiet until now, spoke up. "We also need to ensure our forces are ready. If it comes to open conflict, we must be prepared to defend ourselves and our supporters."

Jaehaerys nodded, his mind racing with possibilities. "Agreed. We will strengthen our alliances, gather intelligence, and prepare our forces. But we must also be strategic. We cannot afford to act rashly."

Daemon, his eyes gleaming with a mix of excitement and determination, added, "And we should continue to undermine Otto and the High Septon from within. Sow discord among their ranks, turn their allies against them."

Jaehaerys looked around the room, feeling a sense of unity and purpose. "We have the advantage now, but we must remain vigilant and proactive. Together, we will protect our family and the realm from those who seek to undermine us."

Then, Jaehaerys leaned forward, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "There's one more thing we can do. A Trial of Seven. It's a rare and ancient tradition, but it holds significant weight. By challenging the Faith to a Trial of Seven, we can force them to prove their accusations against us in combat. If they fail, it will silence their fearmongering and demonstrate the gods' favor towards us."

The room fell silent as they considered his words. Rhaenys nodded slowly. "It's a bold move, but it could work. The Faith would be hard-pressed to refuse such a challenge without losing face."

Laena smiled, her eyes glinting with approval. "And it would give us the chance to show our strength and unity. The people would see that we have nothing to fear from the Faith's accusations."

Rhaenyra looked at Jaehaerys, admiration in her gaze. "You're right. A Trial of Seven could turn the tide in our favor. But we must choose our champions carefully."

Lord Corlys nodded in agreement. "We have strong warriors among us. We can do this."

Daemon, his smirk widening, added, "I always did enjoy a good fight. Let's give the Faith something to remember."

With their plan set, the group felt a renewed sense of determination. They knew the road ahead would be fraught with challenges, but they were ready to face them head-on, united in their goal to safeguard House Targaryen and ensure its future. The Trial of Seven would be a decisive moment in their struggle, and they were prepared to meet it with all the strength and courage they possessed.

—

The next day in the Throne Room, the atmosphere was charged with tension. The grand chamber was filled with courtiers, nobles, and commoners alike, all eager to hear Prince Jaehaerys address the accusations laid against him by the Faith. The High Septon stood prominently, flanked by a few of his trusted followers, his face a mask of stern disapproval. 

Jaehaerys stepped forward, his presence commanding attention. He raised his voice, addressing the assembled crowd. "People of King's Landing, I stand before you today to confront the accusations the Faith has leveled against me. They claim I consort with dark magic, that I endanger the realm with my actions. These claims are false, borne out of fear and misunderstanding."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd, a mixture of curiosity and skepticism. The High Septon stepped forward, his voice booming. "Prince Jaehaerys, your use of sorcery is well known. It is a danger to the faithful and to the realm. You must cease these practices or face the consequences."

A heated debate ensued, with voices rising in support of both sides. Harwin Strong, a seasoned and respected knight, stepped forward, his voice cutting through the din. "Prince Jaehaerys has shown nothing but dedication to the realm. His actions in the Stepstones saved countless lives and secured peace. To accuse him of dark magic is an affront to his honor and to the services he has rendered."

Gawen Cobray, a steadfast ally of Jaehaerys, added his voice. "The prince's methods may be unconventional, but they are driven by a desire to protect and strengthen the realm. The Faith should recognize his intentions and support him, not condemn him based on fear and ignorance."

The High Septon's followers jeered, but the crowd's opinion seemed to be swaying in Jaehaerys' favor. Seeing an opportunity, Jaehaerys raised his hand for silence. "The truth must prevail, and the realm deserves to see it. Therefore, I propose a Trial by Seven, as is our ancient custom. Let seven of the Faith's champions face seven of my own. Let the gods decide who is in the right."

A collective gasp went up from the crowd, followed by a low murmur of excitement and apprehension. The High Septon's face darkened, but he could not refuse such a challenge without appearing cowardly. "Very well," he said, his voice strained. "The gods will judge this matter."

Jaehaerys nodded, a confident glint in his eye. "Then it is settled. We will prepare for the trial, and let the gods' will be done."

The crowd buzzed with anticipation as the gathering dispersed. Jaehaerys turned to Harwin and Gawen, gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you for your support. We have taken a bold step, and I will need your strength in the days to come."

Harwin clasped his shoulder. "We stand with you, Prince Jaehaerys. The Faith will not succeed in their schemes."

Gawen nodded in agreement. "We'll see this through. The gods will favor the truth."

As they left the Throne Room, the tension between the crown and the Faith had reached its zenith. The Trial by Seven would be a decisive moment, a test of strength and resolve that would shape the future of the realm. Jaehaerys and his allies were prepared to face whatever challenges lay ahead, united in their determination to protect House Targaryen and ensure its rightful place in history.

Chapter Text

As Vhagar's wings beat rhythmically against the backdrop of the azure sky, Laena could feel the weight of their purpose intensify with each passing moment. Bloodstone, with its craggy cliffs and churning waves below, seemed a world apart from the political intrigue and danger that now engulfed King's Landing. Yet, here on this remote outpost, the fate of the realm was being decided in whispers and plans.

Dismounting Vhagar, Laena's boots found solid ground with a soft thud against the rugged stone. Her silver-gold hair cascaded over her shoulders as she turned to face Vaelar and Garth, who stood resolute and prepared for the challenges ahead. Vaelar, his features weathered by battles fought and alliances forged, met her gaze with a firm nod, his eyes betraying both determination and concern.

"We must return swiftly," Laena reiterated, her voice carrying the urgency of their mission. "Otto's ambitions threaten not just the crown, but the stability of the realm itself. The Trial by Seven is our chance to expose his treachery and restore honor to the throne."

Garth, the younger of the two but no less steadfast, gripped the hilt of his sword with a quiet resolve. "We ride with you, cousin," he affirmed, his voice steady despite the turmoil brewing within.

Myrcella, standing beside them, exuded a calm resolve that belied her youth. Her eyes, a reflection of the Targaryen legacy she bore, gleamed with unwavering determination. "Together," she added, her tone unwavering, "we will ensure justice is served."

With synchronized movements born of years of shared purpose, the four of them mounted Vhagar once more. The great dragon, sensing their unity and purpose, spread its wings wide and launched into the sky with a powerful surge. The wind whipped around them as they soared, bound for King's Landing and the crucible of fate that awaited them.

In the heart of the capital, Jaehaerys and Daemon continued their rigorous training, each clash of steel a testament to their readiness for the Trial by Seven. In the days to come, alliances would be tested, loyalties challenged, and the future of the realm would hang in the balance.

As Vhagar soared over the Narrow Sea, carrying its riders towards the tumultuous currents of King's Landing, Laena knew that their actions would shape not only the fate of their family but the destiny of the Seven Kingdoms themselves.

—

In the heart of the Red Keep's training yard, where the whispers of Targaryen history resonated in the ancient stone, Daemon and Jaehaerys Targaryen engaged in a mesmerizing dance of blades that spoke volumes of their lineage and the impending challenge that loomed before them. The clash of steel reverberated like a symphony, each strike composing a crucial note in the rhythm of their rigorous training.

Daemon Targaryen, seasoned and masterful, moved with a fluidity that masked his formidable strength. Dark Sister, his Valyrian steel sword, shimmered in the sunlight as he deftly countered the relentless attacks of Ser Harwin Strong. Each parry and riposte flowed seamlessly into the next, a testament to decades spent honing his mastery of combat.

Beside him, Jaehaerys Targaryen mirrored his brother's determination, wielding Dragons Wrath, his own Valyrian steel blade, with a speed and precision that belied his youth. Ser Gawen Cobray, known for his speed and cunning, pressed Jaehaerys with a flurry of rapid strikes and feints, testing the young prince's agility and reflexes. Yet Jaehaerys met each challenge with unwavering focus, his movements a blend of grace and determination.

"Again!" Daemon's voice cut through the intensity of their exchange, a command that spurred both combatants to push themselves further. Ser Harwin renewed his assault with vigor, only to meet Daemon's swift parry and a counterstrike that sent the knight stumbling backward, momentarily off balance.

Across the training yard, Jaehaerys pivoted gracefully, deflecting Ser Gawen's strikes with precise movements before launching a counterattack that forced his opponent onto the defensive. Their swords clashed in a symphony of steel, the sound echoing against the ancient walls of the Red Keep.

As the sun descended, casting long shadows across the courtyard, Daemon and Jaehaerys continued their relentless training. Each movement became more calculated, each strike more purposeful, as they prepared themselves not just for physical combat but for the strategic challenges that awaited them in the Trial by Seven.

Beyond the clash of blades, a profound bond of trust and camaraderie deepened between the cousins. They understood that their unity, their ability to fight as a cohesive unit, would be paramount in the coming conflict. With each spar, they not only refined their skills but also fortified a shared resolve to safeguard their family's legacy and uphold the honor of the realm.

In the fading light of the training yard, amidst the whispers of their ancestors' victories and defeats, Daemon and Jaehaerys Targaryen stood as testament to the indomitable strength of House Targaryen and the unwavering determination that burned within their hearts.

—

In the dimly lit council chamber of the Red Keep, Jaehaerys and Daemon stood around a large map of King's Landing, their expressions serious. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows on the walls as they deliberated their next move.

"We have six strong champions already," Daemon began, his voice low and thoughtful. "You, myself, Vaelar, Garth, Harwin Strong, and Gawen Cobray. But we still need a seventh."

Jaehaerys nodded, his brow furrowed in contemplation. "We need someone who is not only skilled in combat but also commands respect and loyalty. Someone who will bolster our cause and strengthen our position."

Daemon leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. "What about Ser Criston Cole? He’s a formidable fighter and has the respect of the other knights."

Jaehaerys considered the suggestion but shook his head. "Ser Criston is loyal to the crown, but his allegiance is questionable. We need someone whose loyalty we can absolutely trust."

Daemon tapped his fingers on the table, his mind racing through potential candidates. "What about Ser Lyman Beesbury? He’s an older knight, but he’s wise and respected."

Jaehaerys thought for a moment, then shook his head again. "We need someone younger and more agile. This trial will not just be about strength but also speed and strategy."

There was a moment of silence as both brothers pondered their options. Then, Daemon's eyes lit up with an idea. "What about Ser Erryk Cargyll? He’s a skilled knight of the Kingsguard and has proven his loyalty time and again."

Jaehaerys smiled, nodding in agreement. "Ser Erryk would indeed be a valuable addition. His skills in combat are unmatched, and his loyalty is beyond question."

Daemon grinned, satisfied with their choice. "Then it’s settled. We have our seven champions. Now we must prepare them for the trial ahead."

Jaehaerys nodded, a sense of determination settling over him. "This trial will not only prove our strength but also our unity. We will show the realm that we stand together, and we will not be easily defeated."

As the brothers finalized their plans, the weight of the impending trial hung over them. They knew that the road ahead would be challenging, but with their chosen champions, they felt a renewed sense of hope and purpose. The trial would be a defining moment for House Targaryen, and they were ready to face it head-on.

—

Vaelar and Garth arrived from Bloodstone, their expressions set with determination as they dismounted from Vhagar. Laena had flown with them, her mission to bring them back to King's Landing successfully completed. The arrival of the mighty dragon had not gone unnoticed, and whispers spread quickly through the Red Keep.

As they approached the council chamber, Vaelar glanced at his sister, admiration and gratitude in his eyes. "You did well, Laena. We wouldn't have known about the Trial by Seven in time if not for you."

Laena nodded, her eyes bright with resolve. "We need every advantage we can get. This trial will be our chance to prove our strength and unity."

Inside the chamber, Jaehaerys and Daemon were waiting, along with Lord Corlys, Rhaenys, Laenor, and Rhaenyra. The tension in the room was palpable, but it was undercut by a sense of determination and shared purpose.

Jaehaerys stepped forward to greet his cousins, clasping their hands firmly. "Vaelar, Garth. I'm glad you're here. Your presence strengthens our cause."

Vaelar nodded, his gaze steady. "We wouldn't miss this for anything. The Trial by Seven is a chance to show the realm that House Targaryen stands united, and we intend to be a part of it."

Garth, his expression serious, added, "We've been preparing for this. We're ready to fight by your side, Jaehaerys."

Daemon, always the strategist, looked at the gathered faces. "With Vaelar and Garth here, we have six of our seven champions. We need to finalize our plans and ensure that everyone is ready for the trial."
Jaehaerys nodded, his mind already working through the details. "We have Ser Harwin Strong and Ser Gawen Cobray as well. The seventh will be Ser Erryk Cargyll, a knight of the Kingsguard whom we can trust implicitly."

As he finished speaking, the doors to the chamber opened, and the three knights entered. Ser Harwin Strong, broad-shouldered and confident, walked in with Ser Gawen Cobray, whose sharp eyes scanned the room, taking in every detail. They were followed by Ser Erryk Cargyll, his expression resolute and determined. Behind them, Ser Ryam Redwyne trailed in, his normally strong and imposing figure looking haggard and tired.

Jaehaerys and Garth exchanged a glance, noting the elder knight's weariness. Jaehaerys stepped forward to greet them, his voice warm but with an undertone of concern. "Thank you for coming. Your presence here is crucial to our cause."

Ser Harwin and Ser Gawen nodded their acknowledgement, but it was Ser Erryk who spoke first. "We are ready to stand by your side, Prince Jaehaerys. The Faith will not find us lacking."

Jaehaerys smiled, appreciative of their loyalty. "Your strength and skill will be key in the trial. Together, we will show our enemies the power of House Targaryen."

Garth, his brow furrowed with concern, turned to Ser Ryam. "Ser Ryam, are you well? You look... tired."

The older knight gave a weary smile, shaking his head slightly. "The years have caught up with me, it seems. But rest assured, I am still more than capable of defending our prince."

Jaehaerys placed a hand on Ser Ryam's shoulder. "Your experience and wisdom are invaluable, Ser Ryam. We are honored to have you with us."

The group fell into a moment of silence, the gravity of the upcoming trial weighing heavily on them. Rhaenys broke the silence, her voice filled with resolve. "We must prepare ourselves not just physically, but mentally. Our unity and determination will see us through."

Vaelar stepped forward, his eyes blazing with determination. "Let us not forget why we are here. We fight not just for ourselves, but for the future of our house and the realm. We will not falter."

With their resolve strengthened, the group continued to finalize their plans, each member determined to stand strong in the face of the Faith's challenge. The Trial by Seven loomed ahead, a test of their strength, unity, and determination. But with their chosen champions, they felt a renewed sense of hope. House Targaryen would not back down, and they would face whatever came their way with unwavering resolve.

—

Meanwhile, in a dimly lit tavern tucked away in a quieter corner of King's Landing, Ser Arryk Cargyll sat nursing a tankard of ale. It was his day off, a rare reprieve from his duties as a Kingsguard, and he intended to enjoy it in peace. The door to the tavern creaked open, and a figure robed in the austere garb of the Faith slipped inside, making a beeline for his table.

Ser Arryk looked up, his expression hardening as he recognized the High Septon. The holy man sat opposite him without invitation, a serene but determined look on his face.

"Ser Arryk," the High Septon began, his voice calm and measured. "I trust you are well."

Arryk eyed him warily. "What do you want, Your Holiness?"

The High Septon leaned in, lowering his voice. "I have come to request your service in the upcoming Trial by Seven. The Faith needs strong and honorable champions, and you are a renowned knight."

Arryk's jaw tightened. "I am a Kingsguard. My loyalty is to the King and his family. It is against my oaths to raise arms against Prince Jaehaerys and Prince Daemon."

The High Septon’s expression did not change, though a hint of steel entered his voice. "The Faith Militant is being reborn to protect the realm from ungodly influences. Your participation would ensure our victory and uphold the true faith."

Arryk’s eyes narrowed. "And it would mean raising my sword against my twin brother, Ser Erryk, who stands with Prince Jaehaerys. I will not betray my oaths or my family."

Seeing his resolve, the High Septon tried to press further. "Surely you can see the righteousness in—"

Arryk stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. He leaned forward, his voice low and menacing. "I said no. And if you try to insist further, I will consider it an attempt to undermine my honor and my loyalty to the crown. Do not test me, High Septon."

The High Septon, taken aback by the threat in Arryk’s tone, slowly rose from his seat. He regarded Arryk with a mixture of disappointment and wariness. "Very well, Ser Arryk. I hope you will reconsider, for the good of the realm."

Without another word, the High Septon turned and left the tavern, his robes rustling softly. Arryk watched him go, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He took a deep breath, calming the anger that simmered within him. His loyalty was clear, and no amount of persuasion or pressure would sway him from his duty as a Kingsguard and his bond to his brother.

As the tavern door swung shut, Arryk sat back down, his resolve unshaken.

---

In the subdued glow of the tavern’s lanterns, Arryk mulled over the encounter. His thoughts were troubled by the High Septon’s audacity. The Faith’s desperation was evident, but the willingness to manipulate and pressure a sworn knight of the Kingsguard was a step too far.

Arryk’s mind wandered to his twin, Erryk. The bond they shared was unbreakable, forged in the fires of their shared duties and the blood they had spilled together in the name of their king. The thought of facing him in combat was anathema, a violation of everything they stood for. He took a long draught of ale, the bitter taste grounding him in the reality of the situation.

The tavern, usually a place of camaraderie and laughter, felt heavy with the weight of impending conflict. Arryk knew that the High Septon would not give up easily. The Faith’s influence was vast, and its ability to sway public opinion and muster forces was formidable. Yet, he felt a grim satisfaction in having stood his ground, in having drawn a line that he would not cross.

As he sat there, Arryk’s thoughts turned to the trial itself. The Trial by Seven was an ancient rite, a test of divine will where seven champions on each side would fight to determine the outcome. The stakes were high, not just for Jaehaerys and Daemon, but for the entire realm. A victory for the Faith could mean a resurgence of their militant arm, a return to the days of fanaticism and bloodshed.

Arryk knew that his brother would be among Jaehaerys’ champions. The thought gave him a strange sense of pride and dread. Erryk was a formidable warrior, but the trial would be brutal, and the outcome uncertain. He whispered a silent prayer to the Seven, not for himself, but for Erryk and the other champions who would stand in the trial.

The door creaked open again, and a familiar face entered the tavern. It was Ser Steffon Darklyn, one of his fellow Kingsguard, a silent acknowledgement passing between them as the knight made his way to the bar. Arryk realized that word of his encounter with the High Septon would likely spread quickly among the guards. He would have to be cautious, vigilant against any further attempts to sway or coerce him.

For now, he would finish his ale, take solace in the brief respite from duty, and prepare himself for the days ahead. The trial loomed like a dark cloud on the horizon, but Arryk Cargyll was resolute. He would stand by his oaths, his family, and his king, no matter the cost.

—

In the dimly lit chamber within the Red Keep, Jaehaerys and Daemon sat at a heavy wooden table, deep in discussion about the upcoming Trial by Seven. Their minds were racing with strategies and potential threats. A knock on the door interrupted their conversation.

"Enter," Jaehaerys called out, his eyes narrowing as the door opened to reveal Ser Harwin Strong.

"Your Graces," Harwin said, bowing slightly. "I have brought someone who might be of assistance to our cause." He stepped aside to reveal his brother, Larys Strong.

Larys moved into the room with a quiet, almost unsettling grace, despite the pronounced limp from his clubfoot. His eyes were sharp and penetrating, and he seemed to take in every detail of the room in an instant. Jaehaerys studied him closely, his extensive knowledge of the various magics and lore of Planetos immediately alerting him to something unique about Larys.

"Prince Jaehaerys, Prince Daemon," Harwin continued, "this is my brother, Larys. He has talents that may be of great value to us."

Jaehaerys leaned forward, his interest piqued. "Talents, you say?" He turned his full attention to Larys, his keen mind already working through the possibilities. "What kind of talents do you possess, Larys?"

Larys met Jaehaerys' gaze without flinching. "I have certain... abilities that allow me to see and hear things others cannot," he replied cryptically.

Jaehaerys' eyes widened slightly. He had heard whispers of such abilities among the First Men, those who could bond with animals and see through their eyes, known as skinchangers. It was a rare and powerful gift.

"You are a skinchanger," Jaehaerys stated, not as a question, but as a fact. "One who can warg into animals."

Larys nodded slowly, a small smile playing on his lips. "Indeed, Your Grace. It is a gift that has been passed down through our bloodline. I can see through the eyes of birds, hear through the ears of rats. It allows me to gather information that would otherwise be hidden."
Daemon, who had been listening quietly, raised an eyebrow. "That could be incredibly useful. With the Faith plotting against us and the trial approaching, having eyes and ears everywhere could give us a significant advantage."

Jaehaerys nodded thoughtfully, turning his attention back to Larys. "Your abilities could indeed prove invaluable, Larys. We need to anticipate our enemies' moves before they make them. Can you use your gift to spy on Otto Hightower and the High Septon?"

Larys inclined his head. "I can, Your Grace. I will begin immediately. With your permission, I will also keep an eye on the movements of the Faith Militant and any other potential threats."

Jaehaerys leaned forward, his expression serious. "In particular, we need to know who the Faith's seven champions will be for the trial. If we know their strengths and weaknesses, we can prepare accordingly."

Larys nodded again, his eyes glinting with determination. "I understand, Your Grace. I will find out who their champions are and report back to you as soon as I have the information."

Jaehaerys smiled, feeling a renewed sense of confidence. "Very well, Larys. You have our permission and our gratitude. Keep us informed of anything you discover. Together, we will ensure our victory in the trial and protect our family and the realm."

As Larys left the chamber, his uneven gait echoing softly, Jaehaerys and Daemon exchanged a look of determination. They now had another powerful ally in their fight against Otto and the Faith. With Larys' abilities, they could stay one step ahead of their enemies and secure their position in the upcoming Trial by Seven.

Harwin, who had been silently watching the exchange, spoke up. "Larys is loyal to our family and to your cause. He will not fail you."

Jaehaerys nodded, his mind already turning to the next steps in their plan. "Thank you, Ser Harwin. Your brother's assistance may very well tip the scales in our favor. Now, let us continue our preparations. The trial is fast approaching, and we must be ready for anything."

The three men resumed their discussion, their resolve strengthened by the knowledge that they had a powerful ally in Larys Strong. The stakes were higher than ever, but with their combined strengths and the loyalty of those around them, they were determined to emerge victorious.

—

Meanwhile, in Rhaenyra's chambers, a sense of quiet urgency pervaded the air. Laena, Mel, Rhaenyra, and Alicent were seated around a small table, their faces lit by the soft glow of candlelight. Outside the door, Sarya Stone and Lyra Mormont stood guard, their expressions vigilant and stern.

Rhaenyra leaned forward, her eyes fixed on Alicent. "We need to know everything we can about who Ser Otto might have approached for the Trial by Seven. Any detail, no matter how small, could make a difference."

Alicent shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "I... I'm not sure. Father is very secretive about his plans. But I do know that my brother Gwayne has agreed to be one of the champions."

Laena exchanged a quick glance with Rhaenyra before speaking, her tone gentle but probing. "Gwayne is a formidable knight. It must be difficult for you, knowing he'll be raising his sword against Jaehaerys."

Alicent's eyes filled with guilt as she looked down. "It is," she admitted. "I care for Jaehaerys, and I don't want to see him harmed. But Gwayne believes he is doing the right thing, protecting the realm from what he sees as a threat."

Rhaenyra reached out, placing a comforting hand on Alicent's arm. "We understand, Alicent. It's a difficult position to be in. We just need to know if there are others we should be wary of."

Alicent hesitated, clearly torn. "Father spoke to several knights, but I'm not sure who agreed. He mentioned Ser Criston Cole's name once, but I don't know if he accepted."

Laena's eyes flashed with interest. "Ser Criston Cole... he's a skilled warrior. If he's involved, we need to be prepared."

Alicent nodded slowly. "I'll try to find out more, but it won't be easy. Father is careful about what he shares, even with me."

Rhaenyra smiled softly. "You've already helped us a great deal, Alicent. We appreciate your honesty and your friendship."

Alicent returned the smile, though her worry was evident. "I just want this conflict to end with as little bloodshed as possible. I fear for my brother, but I also fear for you and Jaehaerys."

Laena and Rhaenyra exchanged another glance, understanding the depth of Alicent's inner turmoil. They knew they had to tread carefully, balancing their need for information with their desire to protect their loved ones.

As the conversation continued, Laena and Rhaenyra skillfully guided the discussion, drawing out as many details as they could from Alicent without causing her further distress. They knew that every piece of information could be crucial in the days to come, and they were determined to use whatever they learned to ensure the safety and success of their betrothed.

Outside the door, Sarya Stone and Lyra Mormont remained vigilant, their keen eyes watching for any signs of trouble. The stakes were higher than ever, and they were ready to defend Rhaenyra and her allies against any threat that might come their way.

—

Larys Strong sat alone in a small chamber, his eyes closed and his breathing slow and steady. His mind reached out, seeking the small creatures that he could control, and soon he found what he was looking for: a rat scurrying through the dark corridors of the Red Keep. He focused on it, and suddenly his consciousness shifted.

Through the eyes of the rat, Larys moved swiftly and silently, navigating the maze of passageways until he reached his destination. He crept under a door and into a room where Ser Gwayne Hightower was in deep conversation with Ser Criston Cole.

Larys listened intently, the rat's keen senses picking up every word.

"Gwayne," Criston began, his tone hesitant, "you know my loyalty is to the King and his family."

Gwayne Hightower leaned forward, his expression earnest. "This isn't just about loyalty, Criston. This is about righteousness. The High Septon believes that Prince Jaehaerys' use of magic is a threat to the realm. We need men of honor to stand against him in the Trial by Seven."

Criston looked conflicted, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I understand the stakes, but Jaehaerys is a prince. To stand against him... it would be seen as treason."

Gwayne's voice softened, appealing to Criston's sense of duty. "Think of the realm, Ser Criston. Think of the Faith. We cannot allow dark magic to take hold. And consider your feelings for Princess Rhaenyra. How can she be safe under the influence of such sorcery?"

At the mention of Rhaenyra, Criston's expression hardened. He had tried to distance himself from his feelings for the princess, but jealousy and unresolved emotions still simmered beneath the surface. "Rhaenyra..." he murmured, his mind clearly torn.

Gwayne pressed on, sensing an opening. "You still care for her, don't you? This is your chance to protect her from a dangerous influence. Stand with us, Criston. Be one of our champions."

Criston looked up, his resolve strengthening. "Very well, Gwayne. I will stand with you and the Faith. For Rhaenyra's sake."

Larys absorbed every word, his mind quickly processing the implications. He knew how important this information was. Without hesitation, he pulled his consciousness back to his own body, the rat scurrying away into the shadows.

Moments later, Larys made his way to the chamber where Jaehaerys and Daemon were still deep in discussion. He entered quietly, his expression grave.

"Your Graces," he began, "I have important news. Ser Gwayne Hightower has convinced Ser Criston Cole to be one of the champions for the Faith."

Jaehaerys and Daemon exchanged a look, understanding the significance of this development.

"Ser Criston Cole," Jaehaerys mused, "his skill with a sword is well known. This will complicate matters."

Daemon's eyes narrowed. "And his unresolved feelings for Rhaenyra make him even more dangerous. We need to prepare for this."

Jaehaerys nodded, his mind already racing with strategies. "Thank you, Larys. Your information is invaluable. We will use it to our advantage."

Larys bowed slightly. "I will continue to gather intelligence. We must stay one step ahead of our enemies."

As Larys left the chamber, Jaehaerys and Daemon turned their attention back to their plans, now more determined than ever to secure victory in the Trial by Seven. The stakes were higher than ever, but with their combined strengths and the loyalty of those around them, they were ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

—

Over the next couple of days, as tensions mounted and the Trial by Seven approached, new names began to surface. The intricate web of alliances and enmities grew clearer, revealing the depths of the Faith and Otto Hightower's machinations.

One evening, Ser Arryk Cargyll entered the chamber where Jaehaerys, Daemon, and their close allies gathered. He had a grave expression on his face as he relayed his encounter with the High Septon. "The High Septon approached me, asking me to join the Faith's champions. I refused, citing my oaths to the Kingsguard and my loyalty to you, my princes. He was persistent, but I made it clear I would not betray my vows."

Jaehaerys nodded, his expression serious. "Thank you, Ser Arryk. Your loyalty is greatly valued, and your information is crucial. We must be vigilant."

As the days passed, more names emerged. Lord Jason Lannister was among them. His ambitions were no secret; he desired to marry Rhaenyra and saw the Trial by Seven as a means to elevate his standing and gain favor with Otto. His involvement was a potential threat that needed careful handling.

Lord Jasper Wylde was another name that came to light. It was revealed that Otto had promised him the post of Master of Laws, intending to force Lord Strong into retirement after the anticipated death of his son, Ser Harwin Strong, in the trial. Jasper Wylde's ruthless ambition and willingness to do Otto's bidding made him a dangerous adversary.

Rhaenyra and Laena, who had been discreetly extracting information from Alicent, shared their findings with Jaehaerys and Daemon. The puzzle pieces were falling into place, and the picture they painted was one of a deeply entrenched conspiracy.

In a private meeting, Jaehaerys, Daemon, and their trusted allies convened to discuss these developments. Jaehaerys' mind was racing with the implications. "We now know the identities of several of their champions. Ser Criston Cole, Lord Jason Lannister, Lord Jasper Wylde, and of course, Ser Gwayne Hightower. We must prepare accordingly."

Daemon's eyes gleamed with determination. "We'll need to match their strength and cunning. Our champions are formidable, but we must ensure our strategy is flawless. We cannot afford any missteps."

Vaelar, who had returned with Garth and Myrcella, spoke up. "We should also consider the possibility of betrayal. Otto and the Faith are not above using underhanded tactics. We must remain vigilant and trust only those we are certain of."

Garth nodded in agreement. "Our strength lies in our unity and our loyalty to one another. We must leverage that against their treachery."

Jaehaerys took a deep breath, feeling the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. "We will face them head-on, and we will prevail. The realm must see the truth, and we will expose Otto and the High Septon for what they are."

As they continued to plan and strategize, the sense of urgency grew. The Trial by Seven was looming, and with it, the fate of House Targaryen and the realm itself hung in the balance. But with each revelation and each step forward, their resolve only strengthened, and they prepared to face whatever challenges lay ahead with unwavering determination.

Chapter Text

Hello everyone,

I've noticed some accusations suggesting that I use ChatGPT to write my stories. I want to make it clear that I use ChatGPT solely for grammar and editing support. If you find that unacceptable, you're free to read something else.

To those who don't know, I'm from India and can't afford a professional editor for my stories. It seems some people think I can magically produce a 100k-word story combining Harry Potter and Marvel in an instant. That's simply not true. English isn't my first language, so I do make grammatical mistakes. That's why I use ChatGPT—to help with those mistakes.

I'm not an English PhD; I'm just someone who enjoys creating stories. To my supporters, thank you for understanding and enjoying my work. Have a great day.

Chapter Text

In the bustling training yard of the Red Keep, Jaehaerys, Daemon, Vaelar, Garth, Ser Harwin Strong, Ser Gawen Cobray, and Ser Erryk Cargyll were hard at work, honing their skills and preparing for the imminent Trial of the Seven. The clashing of swords and the rhythmic thud of practice blows filled the air, each combatant focused on perfecting their technique and building their strength.

The training session was abruptly interrupted as Ser Arryk Cargyll arrived, his face set with concern. He approached the group, his heavy footsteps cutting through the din of the training yard.

"Your Graces," Arryk began, his voice carrying a note of urgency. "I have troubling news. Ser Ryam Redwyne has requested an audience with Prince Jaehaerys."

Jaehaerys paused mid-strike, his brow furrowing as he looked at Arryk. "Ser Ryam? What is the matter?"

Arryk’s expression grew grimmer. "Master Melos has informed me that Ser Ryam is gravely ill. The Maester believes he may not survive the day."

A murmur of concern rippled through the group. Jaehaerys, though visibly concerned, quickly masked his worry with a determined expression. He looked at Daemon, who gave him a reassuring nod, then turned back to Arryk.

"Lead the way," Jaehaerys instructed. "We must see Ser Ryam immediately."

The group followed Arryk through the corridors of the Red Keep, their steps echoing with a sense of urgency. They arrived at Ser Ryam’s chambers, where the air was heavy with the scent of healing herbs and the low murmur of the Maesters’ voices.

Inside, Ser Ryam Redwyne lay propped up on a bed, his face pale and drawn. Master Melos stood beside him, his expression grave as he examined the ailing knight. Ser Ryam’s eyes lit up with recognition as Jaehaerys and the others entered.

"Prince Jaehaerys," Ser Ryam rasped, his voice weak but filled with a mix of relief and regret. "I am honored to see you."

Jaehaerys approached the bedside, his face a mask of concern. "Ser Ryam, I am deeply troubled by your condition. How can we help?"

Ser Ryam managed a faint smile, though it was tinged with sadness. "There is little that can be done now. My time is drawing near. But before I go, there is something I must tell you."

Jaehaerys leaned closer, his gaze steady. "Speak freely."

Ser Ryam’s voice was a whisper, but each word carried weight. "The Faith has more allies than you know. Some are still hidden in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike. And there are those among them who are not as loyal as they seem."

Jaehaerys nodded, absorbing the information. "We will remain vigilant. Your courage and loyalty have not gone unnoticed, Ser Ryam. We will honor your memory by seeing this through to the end."

Ser Ryam’s eyes softened with gratitude. "Thank you, Your Grace. I pray that the gods favor you in the trial. May justice and honor prevail."

As Ser Ryam’s breathing grew shallower, Jaehaerys and his companions bade him farewell, their hearts heavy with the weight of impending loss. They left the chamber with renewed resolve, determined to uphold Ser Ryam’s legacy and to face the coming trial with the strength and honor he had exemplified.

The training yard, once filled with the clamor of preparation, now seemed quieter, the weight of Ser Ryam’s impending death casting a somber shadow over their preparations. But their resolve was firm. They would fight not just for their cause but for the memory of those who had supported them through their darkest hours.

—

Larys Strong, with his keen abilities, focused his senses and sent his mind soaring through the eyes of a raven. He directed the bird to fly over the bustling streets and noble halls of King's Landing, where he had heard whispers of potential allies for the Faith. His patience and skill paid off as he overheard a conversation between Ser Gwayne Hightower and another man who exuded a commanding presence: Lord Borros Baratheon.

Larys listened intently as Ser Gwayne and Lord Borros discussed the latter's role as one of the Faith's champions in the upcoming Trial by Seven. It was clear that Borros, with his aggressive and battle-hungry nature, had been persuaded by the prospect of glory and combat rather than any deep-seated religious fervor. As the raven continued its surveillance, Larys made sure to note every detail, including Borros's dismissive attitude toward the long-term consequences of his actions.

Satisfied with the information gathered, Larys directed the raven back, pulling his consciousness back into his own body. He quickly penned a message to Prince Jaehaerys and the others, detailing his discovery about Lord Borros Baratheon’s involvement.

Meanwhile, Rhaenys Targaryen received the news with a heavy heart. The revelation that Borros Baratheon, son of her cousin Boremund Baratheon, was siding with the Faith struck her deeply. The Baratheons and Targaryens shared a complicated yet intertwined history, and this betrayal by one of her kin felt like a personal affront. Rhaenys, known as the "Queen Who Never Was," had always prided herself on her strong familial ties and sense of loyalty.

Rising from her seat, she made a swift decision. "I will not stand by and allow this affront to go unanswered," she declared, her voice filled with determination. "If Borros has chosen to betray his family and the realm for some misguided notion of glory, then I will go to Storm's End and speak with Lord Boremund myself."

Her husband, Lord Corlys Velaryon, nodded in agreement, though he cautioned her. "Be careful, Rhaenys. Borros is headstrong and driven by a lust for battle. Convincing him will not be easy, and Boremund may not have the influence over him that you hope."

Rhaenys's eyes hardened with resolve. "Borros may be headstrong, but Boremund understands the importance of loyalty and family. I must at least try."

With that, Rhaenys donned her riding gear and made her way to the dragonpit, where her dragon, Meleys, awaited. The Red Queen, as Meleys was known, was as fierce and proud as her rider. As Rhaenys climbed onto the dragon’s back, she steeled herself for the task ahead. Flying swiftly, she set her course for Storm's End, hoping to appeal to Lord Boremund Baratheon's sense of duty and kinship.

As Meleys soared over the Narrow Sea and approached the storm-lashed cliffs of Storm's End, Rhaenys felt a flicker of hope. She knew convincing Borros might be an uphill battle, but she was determined to try and avert the potential conflict between her kin and the Targaryen loyalists. The stakes were too high to do anything less.

—

As Rhaenys mounted Meleys and soared towards Storm's End, a somber mood settled over the Red Keep. The news spread quickly: Ser Ryam Redwyne, the venerable Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, had passed away. His death was a heavy blow to the royal family and all who respected the old knight’s unwavering loyalty and honor.

In the quiet corridors and bustling halls, whispers of the loss mingled with the hush of mourning. Ser Ryam was more than just a knight; he was a symbol of unwavering duty and integrity, embodying the very ideals of knighthood. His presence had been a cornerstone of the Kingsguard and the realm for decades.

For Jaehaerys, the loss was particularly profound. Ser Ryam had been his mentor, teaching him not only the martial skills required of a knight but also the virtues of chivalry, duty, and honor. To Jaehaerys, Ser Ryam had been like a second father, guiding him through the complexities of life at court and the responsibilities of his station. The prince often remembered the long hours spent in training, not just with sword and shield, but in conversations about the importance of justice and compassion. Now, with Ser Ryam gone, a void was left that seemed impossible to fill.

Jaehaerys stood in the silent chamber where Ser Ryam’s body lay in repose, his heart heavy with grief. He reached out to touch the hilt of the knight’s sword, a symbol of the strength and wisdom the old knight had imparted. "You were a true knight, Ser Ryam," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I will honor your memory and the lessons you taught me, always."

Garth Redwyne, Ser Ryam’s nephew, stood by his side, struggling with his own grief. Ser Ryam had been a beloved uncle, a figure of inspiration and guidance. The bond they shared was deep, built on shared family ties and a mutual respect for the codes of knighthood. Garth felt the weight of his uncle’s legacy, a reminder of the high standards he had to uphold.

Daemon, though often seen as a rogue and unpredictable, had always admired Ser Ryam's steadfastness and dedication. The old knight's adherence to his principles, even in the face of difficult decisions, was something Daemon respected deeply. He stood silently by Jaehaerys, his usual bravado replaced by a quiet reverence. "He was one of the best," Daemon murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "A true knight, to the end."

As the day wore on, the Red Keep was subdued, the atmosphere heavy with the loss of a legend. The members of the Kingsguard, noble lords, and ladies of the court all paid their respects, each reflecting on the impact Ser Ryam had made during his long service. His death was not just a loss for the Targaryen family but for the realm as a whole.

The funeral preparations began, with the royal family ensuring that Ser Ryam would receive the honors befitting his station and service. It was decided that he would be laid to rest in the White Sword Tower, alongside other great members of the Kingsguard. It was a fitting tribute to a man who had devoted his life to protecting the realm and upholding the values of knighthood.

Jaehaerys, still reeling from the loss, resolved to carry forward the principles Ser Ryam had instilled in him. He vowed to honor the old knight’s memory by striving to be a ruler who embodied justice and compassion, just as Ser Ryam had taught him.

As Rhaenys flew towards Storm's End, carrying the weight of her own mission, the rest of the royal family mourned. Ser Ryam's passing was a stark reminder of the impermanence of life and the importance of upholding one’s duties with honor and integrity. The loss of such a stalwart figure only underscored the challenges they faced, but it also strengthened their resolve to honor his legacy by securing the future of House Targaryen and the realm.

—

Rhaenys flew Meleys, the Red Queen, towards Storm's End, the ancestral seat of House Baratheon. The ancient castle, perched on the stormy coast, was a formidable sight, its tall towers and thick walls standing against the relentless winds and waves. As Meleys descended gracefully into the courtyard, the gathered Baratheon men watched in awe, a dragon's presence always a reminder of the Targaryen power.

Rhaenys dismounted with a fluid grace, her cloak billowing around her. She was greeted by the household staff and soon ushered into the great hall, where Lord Boremund Baratheon awaited her. He stood as she entered, his expression a mix of respect and curiosity.

"Welcome to Storm's End, cousin," Boremund greeted, a warm smile crossing his weathered face. Despite his age, he still carried himself with the strength and presence of a warrior.

"Boremund," Rhaenys acknowledged, her voice steady but carrying an undertone of urgency. "Thank you for receiving me on such short notice."

They exchanged pleasantries briefly before Rhaenys cut to the heart of the matter. "I come not just as kin, but with grave concerns. It has come to my attention that your son, Borros, has pledged himself as a champion for the Faith in the upcoming Trial by Seven."

Boremund's expression darkened slightly. He sighed, a sound filled with frustration and resignation. "Yes, Borros has always been headstrong. He sees this trial as a chance to prove himself, to make a name in the annals of history. The boy has always had more brawn than sense."

Rhaenys nodded, understanding the complexities of familial ties and the burdens of leadership. "The trial is a serious matter, Boremund. It threatens not just the individuals involved but the stability of the realm. Borros' involvement is a direct challenge to the crown, to our family."

Boremund's eyes met hers, a flicker of regret in their depths. "Believe me, Rhaenys, I understand the gravity of the situation. I have spoken to him, tried to reason with him, but he is set on this course. His stubbornness rivals the storms that batter our keep."

Rhaenys frowned, her worry deepening. "He is not just risking his own life, Boremund. His actions could have far-reaching consequences. The crown cannot overlook this as merely a youthful folly."

Boremund sighed again, rubbing his temples as if to ward off a headache. "I know. But Borros is a man grown, and as much as it pains me to say it, he is beyond my control in this matter. He believes he is fighting for a just cause, misled as he might be."

Rhaenys considered her words carefully, knowing the delicate balance she had to strike. "Is there nothing you can do? No influence you can wield to make him reconsider?"

Boremund shook his head, a deep frown marring his features. "Borros sees this as his chance to step out of my shadow, to prove himself worthy of Storm's End. I fear nothing short of an outright command from the crown could sway him, and even then, his pride might drive him to defy it."

The disappointment in his voice was evident, and Rhaenys felt a pang of sympathy. She knew the weight of familial expectations and the pain of watching loved ones make misguided choices. "Boremund, if Borros proceeds with this, it will set him against not just the crown but against me and my children. It will strain the bonds of our house and could lead to bloodshed."

Boremund's gaze hardened slightly, the lines of worry deepening around his eyes. "I understand, Rhaenys. Believe me, I do. But my hands are tied. I will not support him in this, nor will I sanction it. But I cannot stop him."

Rhaenys took a deep breath, steeling herself for the realities ahead. "Very well. But know that if he continues on this path, he will find himself standing against the might of the Targaryens. And that is a position no one should envy."

Boremund nodded, a resigned acceptance in his eyes. "I will do what I can to mitigate this, to guide him. But know this, cousin: whatever happens, Storm's End will not stand against the crown. I will not allow my son's folly to bring ruin upon our house."

With a heavy heart, Rhaenys knew she had done all she could. She would return to King's Landing with the knowledge that Borros Baratheon was beyond reach, a potential threat that could not be ignored. As she prepared to depart, she and Boremund exchanged a final, somber look, each aware of the challenges that lay ahead. The Targaryen princess mounted Meleys, soaring back into the stormy skies, her mind troubled by the uncertain future and the trials that awaited.

—

The funeral of Ser Ryam Redwyne was a solemn affair, steeped in the traditions and customs of Westeros. The entire royal family gathered in the Sept on Visenya’s Hill, draped in mourning black, their expressions reflecting the deep respect and sorrow they felt for the passing of the esteemed Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.

Ser Ryam's body lay in state, clad in his white Kingsguard armor, a symbol of his lifelong dedication to the crown and the realm. His hands were crossed over his chest, and his sword rested beside him, a final testament to his unwavering service and honor. The hall was filled with the soft glow of candles, their light casting a warm glow on the marble floors and the silent figures of those in attendance.

The High Septon, standing before the gathered nobles and courtiers, began the ceremony with a solemn invocation to the Seven, praising Ser Ryam's steadfastness, courage, and loyalty. The sept echoed with the hushed whispers of prayers and the occasional sniffle, as those present reflected on the loss of a great knight.

Jaehaerys stood beside the bier, his face pale and drawn with grief. Ser Ryam had been like a second father to him, a mentor who had instilled in him the values of chivalry, honor, and justice. The prince struggled to maintain his composure, his hands clenched at his sides. Daemon stood by his side, a comforting presence, his usual bravado tempered by a rare display of solemn respect. Garth, Ser Ryam's nephew, was also there, his face a mask of sorrow, mourning both the loss of his uncle and a man he greatly admired.

As the High Septon concluded his prayers, a series of eulogies followed. Jaehaerys stepped forward, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "Ser Ryam Redwyne was not only the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard; he was a guiding light, a paragon of knightly virtues. He taught me what it means to be a true knight, to uphold justice and protect the innocent. His counsel was invaluable, and his loyalty unwavering. The realm has lost a great man, and I have lost a mentor and a friend."

Daemon spoke next, his voice carrying a rare tone of reverence. "Ser Ryam was a knight who commanded respect not through fear, but through his integrity and honor. He served the realm faithfully, and his legacy will endure long after we are gone. He was a man worthy of the white cloak, and we will never see his like again."

Garth, struggling to keep his emotions in check, shared a few words about his uncle's kindness and the lessons he imparted. "Uncle Ryam was a pillar of strength and wisdom. He taught me to face challenges with courage and to hold fast to my principles. His loss is a great blow, not just to our family, but to all who knew him."

After the eulogies, the High Septon led the assembly in a final prayer, invoking the Stranger to guide Ser Ryam's soul to the afterlife. The knights of the Kingsguard, in their shining white armor, then approached the bier. Each knight, in turn, laid a hand on Ser Ryam's chest, a silent vow to continue his legacy of service and honor.

As the ceremony concluded, the assembled nobles and courtiers filed out of the sept, leaving the royal family to say their final farewells in private. Jaehaerys lingered by the bier, his eyes closed in silent prayer. Daemon placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and Garth stood by, offering quiet support.

The loss of Ser Ryam Redwyne was keenly felt throughout the realm. He had been a symbol of the ideals that the Kingsguard aspired to, a knight of impeccable honor and courage. His death marked the end of an era, and his absence left a void that would not easily be filled. As the Targaryen family exited the sept, their faces set in grim determination, they knew that they must carry on, upholding the values and principles that Ser Ryam had embodied throughout his life.

—

In a dimly lit, lavishly decorated brothel on the Street of Silk, Daemon Targaryen, Garth Redwyne, and Ser Harwin Strong sat around a low table cluttered with empty tankards and bottles of ale. The trio, deep in their cups, mourned the recent loss of Ser Ryam Redwyne. The room buzzed with laughter and the soft murmur of voices, but the atmosphere around the three men was heavy with grief and the haze of alcohol. They were surrounded by courtesans and sycophants, trying to distract themselves from their sorrow with drink and debauchery.

Daemon, sprawled in his chair, raised a half-empty tankard. "To Ser Ryam," he slurred, his voice tinged with a mix of sadness and defiance. "The best damn knight I've ever known."

Garth, looking slightly more composed but equally despondent, nodded solemnly. "He was a true knight, one of a kind. We'll never see his like again."

Ser Harwin, staring into his drink, murmured, "He was a good man. A better man than most."

As they wallowed in their grief, the door to the brothel swung open, and two figures strode in with purpose. Rhea Royce, Daemon's wife, entered first. She was a striking woman with a strong presence, her bronze hair and sharp features giving her an imposing air. Daemon often referred to her disdainfully as his "Bronze Bitch," a moniker born out of their rocky relationship. Despite their turbulent history, there was an undeniable tension between them, a mixture of unresolved conflict and suppressed attraction.

Behind Rhea came Lady Myrcella Penrose, a noblewoman of quiet grace and strength. She had caught Garth's eye, and though he had not yet acted on his feelings, there was a budding attraction between them. Myrcella's serene demeanor contrasted sharply with the bawdy atmosphere of the brothel.

The room quieted as the two women approached the table. Daemon looked up, a lazy grin spreading across his face. "Rhea, my dear wife," he drawled sarcastically. "Come to join the party?"

Rhea's eyes narrowed, and she placed her hands on her hips, exuding an aura of authority. "Enough of this, Daemon," she snapped, her voice cutting through the haze of the room. "You all should be ashamed. Ser Ryam was a knight of honor, and here you are, drowning your sorrows in ale and whores."

Daemon's grin faltered, and he straightened slightly, a flicker of guilt crossing his features. "Rhea, we're just... mourning him in our way."

"By dishonoring his memory?" Rhea shot back, her tone sharp. "You have a Trial by Seven to prepare for, or have you forgotten?"

Garth looked up, his gaze meeting Myrcella's. Her eyes were soft yet firm, and he felt a pang of guilt. She deserved better than to see him like this. Myrcella stepped closer, her voice gentle but resolute. "Garth, Ser Ryam would not want you to wallow in grief. He would want you to be strong, to stand tall and honor him by being the best knight you can be."

Garth swallowed, nodding slowly. "You're right, Myrcella. I... I've been acting like a fool."

Rhea turned her gaze to Daemon, her expression softening slightly. "Daemon, you may not care for me, but you have a duty to your family and to the realm. This isn't you."

Daemon met her eyes, a myriad of emotions passing between them. For a moment, the tension between them seemed almost palpable, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. Finally, Daemon sighed, pushing his tankard away. "You're right, Rhea. This isn't me. Or at least, it shouldn't be."

Rhea nodded, her expression softening. "Good. Now, get up. We have work to do. The Trial by Seven is fast approaching, and you need to be ready."

The courtesans and sycophants around them began to disperse, sensing the shift in atmosphere. Ser Harwin, who had been silent throughout the exchange, looked up with newfound resolve. "Lady Rhea's right. We can't afford to lose focus now."

With a final, regretful glance at the table, the three men stood, shedding the remnants of their drunken stupor. They followed Rhea and Myrcella out of the brothel, leaving behind the murky comfort of their grief. As they stepped into the streets of King's Landing, the cool night air sobering them further, they felt a renewed sense of purpose. The Trial by Seven was looming, and they had a duty to honor Ser Ryam's memory by fighting with the strength and honor he had always embodied.

—

In the dimly lit chambers of the Red Keep, Prince Jaehaerys sat slumped in a chair, a bottle of Firewhiskey clutched in his hand. His usually sharp eyes were clouded with grief and alcohol, a rare vulnerability on display. Across from him, Vaelar Targaryen, his close friend and confidant, watched with concern, his brow furrowed in frustration.

"Jaehaerys, enough," Vaelar urged, his voice firm yet gentle. "Drowning yourself in Firewhiskey won't bring Ser Ryam back. You need to be strong, especially now."

Jaehaerys took another swig from the bottle, grimacing as the fiery liquid burned down his throat. "Vaelar, he was like a second father to me," he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. "I should have done more... I should have..."

Vaelar reached out, placing a hand on Jaehaerys' shoulder. "You honored him in life, and you will honor him in death. But this... this isn't the way."

As Jaehaerys looked up, the door to the chamber opened, and Laena Velaryon and Rhaenyra Targaryen entered, accompanied by Mel, their expressions a mix of concern and determination. Both women, betrothed to Jaehaerys, shared a bond with him that transcended mere duty. They exchanged a glance before approaching the despondent prince.

Rhaenyra, her usual fire tempered with compassion, stepped forward. "Jaehaerys," she said softly, her voice carrying a note of tenderness. "We've all lost someone dear to us. Ser Ryam was a great knight, and his passing is a loss for all of us. But he wouldn't want to see you like this."

Laena, her eyes bright with unshed tears, nodded in agreement. "He believed in you, in your potential to be a great ruler. Drinking yourself into oblivion won't honor his memory."

Jaehaerys looked between the two women, his grip on the bottle loosening. "Laena, Rhaenyra... I... I don't know how to deal with this," he admitted, his voice cracking with emotion. "He taught me everything about being a knight, about honor. How can I face the Trial by Seven without him?"

Mel, standing slightly apart, spoke up, her voice calm and reassuring. "You face it with the same strength and courage that Ser Ryam instilled in you. He may not be here in body, but his spirit lives on in you and in all those he touched. You must lead, Jaehaerys, for him, for yourself, and for the realm."

Vaelar, taking the opportunity, gently took the bottle from Jaehaerys' hand and set it aside. "She's right, Jaehaerys. We have to prepare, not just for the trial but for the future. You are not alone in this."

Jaehaerys looked around at the faces of those who cared for him, his vision clearing as he fought back the tears. He felt the weight of their expectations, their hopes, and their unwavering support. Taking a deep breath, he stood, his legs unsteady but his resolve firming.

"You're right," he said, his voice stronger now. "I can't let grief consume me. Ser Ryam wouldn't want that. I need to be the prince he believed I could be."

Rhaenyra stepped closer, taking his hand in hers. "We'll face this together, Jaehaerys. All of us. You're not alone."

Laena placed a reassuring hand on his arm. "We believe in you. Now, let's focus on what needs to be done. The Trial by Seven is coming, and we need to be ready."

With a nod, Jaehaerys straightened his posture, the weight of his grief still heavy but manageable. He knew the path ahead would be difficult, filled with challenges and uncertainty. But with his friends, his betrothed, and his loyal companions by his side, he felt a glimmer of hope.

Together, they left the chamber, their spirits bolstered by their shared determination. The time for mourning was not over, but they had a duty to fulfill, and they would face it with the courage and honor befitting the memory of Ser Ryam Redwyne. The Trial by Seven awaited, and they would meet it head-on, united and unyielding.

—

In a dimly lit chamber within the Red Keep, five of the Faith's chosen champions—Ser Gwayne Hightower, Ser Criston Cole, Lord Jasper Wylde, Lord Jason Lannister, and Lord Borros Baratheon—gathered around a large wooden table. The air was thick with tension, their faces grim as they awaited the arrival of the High Septon and Ser Otto Hightower, who had convened this clandestine meeting.

The door creaked open, and the High Septon entered, followed closely by Otto Hightower. They took their places at the head of the table, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows across their faces.

Otto surveyed the room, his eyes narrowing as he addressed the gathered champions. "Gentlemen, the time is nearly upon us. The Trial by Seven will be a pivotal moment in the struggle for the soul of the realm. With Ser Ryam Redwyne's passing, Prince Jaehaerys is vulnerable. This is our chance to strike a decisive blow."

Ser Gwayne Hightower, a stern-faced man with a rigid sense of duty, nodded. "Prince Jaehaerys will be reeling from the loss. We must exploit this opportunity to weaken him further."

Lord Borros Baratheon, his massive frame and battle-hardened demeanor making him an imposing presence, grunted in agreement. "The boy is soft. A few more losses and he'll crumble. We need to ensure that our champions are the strongest, to guarantee victory."

The High Septon, his expression serene but his eyes sharp, interjected. "We must remember that our cause is just. The Faith seeks to rid the realm of the ungodly influence of Prince Jaehaerys and his ilk. This trial is not just a battle but a divine judgment."

Lord Jasper Wylde, known for his cunning, leaned forward. "We need to finalize our roster. We have five of our seven champions here, but who will the remaining two be?"

Otto's gaze flicked to Ser Criston Cole, who had been silent thus far. The knight's face was a mask of restraint, hiding the inner turmoil caused by his conflicted feelings for Rhaenyra Targaryen. "Ser Criston, you are a key player in this. Do you have any suggestions for our remaining champions?"

Criston Cole glanced at Otto, his jaw tightening. "There are several knights who have pledged themselves to the Faith's cause. We could consider Ser Marq Rykker or Ser Rickard Thorne. Both are skilled and loyal to the Faith."

As they discussed potential candidates, a small rat scurried along the baseboards, unnoticed by the men. The rat paused, its beady eyes watching, listening intently. Larys Strong, hidden away in his chambers, was warged into the creature, absorbing every word of their conversation.

Otto leaned back, a calculating smile on his lips. "We must choose carefully. The remaining champions must be not only skilled but also unwavering in their loyalty. Our goal is not merely to win the trial but to deliver a decisive message to the realm."

The High Septon nodded in agreement. "Indeed. We must show that the Faith's strength is greater than the might of dragons. Let this trial be a testament to our resolve and righteousness."

As the meeting continued, Larys took note of every name and strategy mentioned. Though Jaehaerys was grieving, he was far from vulnerable. With Larys' abilities, the prince was privy to the Faith's plans, allowing him to remain several steps ahead of his enemies.

The rat quietly slipped away, its small form disappearing into the shadows. The champions of the Faith, along with Otto and the High Septon, continued their plotting, unaware that their every word had been overheard. As they finalized their plans, a sense of foreboding settled over the room. The Trial by Seven was approaching, and with it, the fate of the realm hung in the balance.