why are you shaking (we are a dynasty) - WhiteHeart (2024)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

Joffrey is the calmest of her children, Rhaenyra thinks with fondness.

Jace was a easy baby but when he started to cry it took a unholy amount of time to calm him down, not to mention the nightmare that was when his teeth began to appear, even when he was quiet Rhaenyra and probably half the Red Keep could still hear the phantom of his cries, Luke was infinitely fussier and cried for every little thing and usually could only be soothed by his mother, more than once a apologetic wet nurse had sought out Rhaenyra with a red in the face baby who was crying so much he was making himself choke.

Joffrey on the other hand is so quiet that Rhaenyra cannot resist the urge to get up and check on him just to make sure the little babe is truly breathing, unused to such long amounts of silence with such a young babe, but every time he will look at her with his still gray eyes, reaching his little hands towards her to be picked up and immediately seething back. Even now as they move around the sea of people of the Red Keep the babe does not stir at the strange face and loud noise, peacefully sleeping on her arms.

In truth Rhaenyra should not be moving so much after birth, the maesters have already asked her to rest for longer periods of time, but she feels fine and if she survived the excruciating trip to see the Queen after having literally just pushed her son off her body she can survive a trip to the Dragon Pit.

It’s time for Syrax to meet her son.

The she-dragon has always been good to her children, allowing them to get close and even pet her on occasion, Syrax is always a menace towards her keepers, losing only to Caraxes who is as rogue as his rider, but when Rhaenyra is present the she-dragon melts as acts just like a spoiled and overgrown kitten.

They make the trip without being stopped, a white cloak following a few steps behind her, and soon enough she arrives at her destination being informed by one of the guards at the place that she just missed her older children, the two of them and prince Aegon having finished their lessons a little before. The heir just nods and follows the familiar paths towards the cave Syrax claims as her own inside the pit.

She has barely entered the inferior chambers where the dragons stay when at the same time she feels the heat of dragon fire and an aborted childish scream.

Immediately her heart beat faster, violet eyes widening as she hurries further inside, now able to see the flamer emerging from one of the caves as well as the green clad figure crawling away from danger. Panicked violet eyes meet her own for a brief second before more flames erupt from the dragon cave and the white cloak following her, Ser Erryk or ser Arryk as the princess could never tell them apart in their uniformes, rushes forward and pulls the young prince towards her, and as soon as he is out the dragon’s view the flames stop.

Aemond is still on the floor, his arm still on the vice grip of the knight, his breathing loud and harsh in the quietness of the pit, violet eyes wide in fear, his frame shaking like a leaf in the strong wind.

And Rhaenyra finds herself furious.

“What are you thinking!” She yells at her brother, stalking forward until they are as close as possible “Do you know how dangerous what you just did was?”

“I… I just…” The boy starts, voice shaking as much as his body

“You did what? Wanted to get yourself killed?” Rhaenyra interrupts him “Do you not know that all attempts of bonding must be accompanied by a dragon keeper? Answer me Aemond! What are you thinking you stupid boy?”

Her own heart is beating out of her chest, her arms tightening their hold on young Joffrey who is still quiet but his eyes are wide. Rhaenyra does not scare easily, she is the blood of Old Valyria, a dragon rider and the rightful heir of the Iron Throne, there is not much in this world capable of posing such a threat to her that it strikes fear into the deeps of her heart, but now? Now Rhaenyra feels terrified.

Aemond could have died had he not been fast to throw himself to the ground, could have still died if the flames went lower, could have been eaten if he foolishly tried to get closer.

They are not close, Aemond is young enough to be her own child and the tense relationship she has with his mother has kept Rhaenyra away from her half siblings as much as possible, but he is still blood of her blood. He is family and he could have gotten himself killed by his own stupid choice, flames of anger at his lack of sense burn the inside of her body, makes her want to shake him and yell some more.

But she is stopped from doing that by the babe on her arms and then by the quiet sound of crying.

Aemond, still kneeling on the ground half supported by the knight, lowers his head in the middle of her questionating, long silver hair obscuring most of his face but there is no hiding the quiet hiccups or the marks his tears leave on the sand floor.

The anger is gone just as quickly as it came leaving behind just the worry and the bitter taste of guilt.

“Aemond.” She calls but he makes no motion to look up “Brother, please look at me.”

But the boy just attempts to curl on himself, tears still steadily falling.

“Oh brother” Rhaenyra whispers and, careful not to jostle Joffrey, kneels so she can attempt to look him in the face “Why did you risk your life like this?”

“They gave me a pig.” The boy finally sobs, raising his head to look at her and there is a mixture of anger and pain in his young eyes “They called me here, said that they found something to help me get a dragon and then they brought me a pig with paper wings and a tail and told me that was my dragon, the pink dread, that since I couldn’t get a real dragon I could have that.”

“Who? Who did this?” The princess asks but the dread inside her means that the answer is a unpleasant but obvious one

“Aegon, Jace and Luke.” The boy practically spits the names “They laughed! All of them laughed, even the keepers and the guards, they were all laughing at me and it’s not fair, I just… I thought that if I tried just one more time it would work, that maybe this time… But it didn’t work again.”

“You are the blood of Old Valyria, brother, and one day you will have your dragon, there is no shame in bonding with one later in life.”

“Yes there is!” The prince retorts with petulance, eyelashes still wet “I’m the only one without a dragon or even an egg and no one ever lets me forget it! They all laugh at me and they leave me behind and the guards and the maids keep looking at me with pity and whispering that maybe there is something wrong with me like I can’t hear them! I thought… when they called me here I thought that maybe they really wanted to help, that they cared, but they just wanted to laugh at me again.”

“What they did was wrong.” Rhaenyra says fiercely “And I will talk with my children about their actions because they are wrong, Aemond. Dragons are not slaves or pets, they are strong creatures with their own wants, if you could not bond with any of the dragons in the pit it just means that you are not meant for each other, somewhere there is a dragon that will be perfect for you and in the right time you will find them.”

The boy just hangs his head again, his hands clenched into fists and Rhaenyra gives up resisting the urge to pull him to her arms and carefully rearranges Joffrey so she has one arm free to pull the boy towards her. He goes with no protest, after a few moments returning the hug and muffling his sobs on her shoulder.

Aemond is just a boy of not even ten name days, this is too much pain for such a young heart. He is her younger brother and f*ck the fact that Alicent has refused her proposals to mend the bridge between their house, whenever Syrax lays eggs again one of them will go to this boy even if Rhaenyra has to fight Alicent over it.

“Do you truly believe it?” He asks her wetly

“Of course! Lady Laena was five and ten when she claimed Vhagar as her own, not because there was something amiss with her, but because her journey was longer and her reward all the more sweet for that. Your time will come, brother.”

She feels more than sees his nod. Rhaenyra breathes deeply, again painfully aware of how close she came to losing a sibling once more as the distinctive smell of smoke coming from Aemond fills her nose, her heart finally going back to an acceptable rate, they stay in this embrace for a little long before the prince pulls back and she lets him, he attempts to clean the tear tracks on his face, clearly visible given the dirtiness of it, and is majorly unsuccessful, the until them silent kingsguard steps forward once more offering a handkerchief to the boy who take it, with his face more clean the ashamed blush on his face becoming more visible.

“I think this can remain just between us, what do you think? I would hate to worry father or your mother with this situation when no harm has been done.” She proposes

“I think that would be very acceptable sister.” Aemond agrees, not quite capable of hiding how grateful he feels, he is adorable she decides, her youngest brother is just like a angry kitten

Visibly amused, the white clad knight also nods, giving his princess a small smile over the head of the prince that she answers with one of her own.

For the first time since the beginning of this whole mess Joffrey makes his presence known with a cry, powerful like any children with the blood of the dragon but not nearly as piercing as of her older sons. Also for the first time Aemond seems to truly register the babe’s presence as he turns to look at him with his head tilted to the side.

“Why is he crying?”

“It’s getting close to his nap time so he must be feeling tired.” Rhaenyra explain getting up with the knight’s help and offering a hand to Aemond who, to her delight, take it with no hesitation

“How do you know what his cry means?” He asks still looking at his young nephew with furrowed brows and a tilted head

“I just know.” Rhaenyra shrugs with a smile “It’s something you learn when you become a parent and starts to understand your little ones, it was harder with Jace as he was my first but now that i’m more used to it it’s much more simple.”

“Sounds complicated.” He scrunches his nose “Babies are complicated, I don’t think I want them.”

Rhaenyra cannot help but laugh, a hush of affection almost knocking her by surprise.

“I thought that for a very long time too, swore up and down that I didn't want marriage or kids.” She fake whispers to him “And look at me now.”

His violet eyes widen in surprise looking her up and down as if trying to see this other apparently not kid-loving Rhaenyra.

“I don’t believe it.” He finally decides shaking his head with all the rightfulness of a boy. “You are too much of a natural.”

“A natural?”

“At being a mother.” He explains with the same seriousness “You are very good at it, I can’t believe there was a time you didn’t want this, you are always so good with Jace and Luke and you know what Joffrey wants just because he cried.”

“Most mothers learn this.”

She shakes her head foundly, flattered and warm at being called a good mother when doubts about her abilities have kept her awake for countless nights. Especially after discovering herself pregnant with Jace, Rhaenyra had done nothing but fear. Fear the childbirth and all that could go wrong (memories of her mother, of the blood that stained the bed and the sheets, of the ashen quality on the face of all that have witnessed her final moments, of the pain of loss), fear of not being able to be a good mother when she had spend so much of her life dreading that very thing, afraid that her child would somehow feel that and hate her, that she would not be able to provide what they deserved and needed. Rhaenyra was a ball of nerves, afraid of doing too much and suffocating her son, afraid of doing too little and alienating him.

Knowing that Aemond, who has grown up with Alicent and her barely veiled hatred towards her, considers her a good mother is a type of affirmation she never knew she craved in the first place.

“But not all of them.” He whispers back, suddenly sounding and looking very sober

Rhaenyra does not need to be particularly clever to understand the unspoken. But she forces a smile and an idea strikes her as she rocks Joffrey, the babe easily calming with the sound of her voice as he usually does.

“I was going to introduce Joffrey to Syrax, what do you think of joining us?”

“Yes!” He answers before she can even finish and probably realizing how eager he sounded the boy coughs “I mean, if there is no problem, I would love to.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

She guides them around the dragon pit in comfortable silence until they reach Syrax, who spoiled princess as she is, is comfortably laying down, the remains of a goat indicating that she must have been feed recently and Rhaenyra grins widely at seeing her beloved girl and doesn’t hesitate to approach her, the she-dragon lifts her head and lets out a sound that Rhaenyra has long since associate with happiness getting up on her full height and approaching her ridder.

“Oh my girl, how have I missed you.” Rhaenyra whispers, gently caressing Syrax who preens and pushes herself closer “Soon we will be taking to the skies again, I promise you. This is Joffrey, my girl, another one of ours.”

Syrax’s eyes leave her ridder to look at the small bundle on her arms, compared to her dragon her son looks even more smaller, so impossibly fragile and as always Syrax seems to realize it as the dragon careful lower even more her head, her warm breath hitting the babe who giggles and extends her hands to try to touch the dragon, Rhaenyra lifts him a bit and Syrax remains perfectly still as his little hands explore her scales.

Her eyes fill with tears of pure happiness at that and she turns her head to look at Aemond, standing at the kingsguard side with eyes wide with amazement.

“Come here, brother.”

With careful steps, as if remembering the last time he approached a dragon, the prince stops at her side, his eyes wide and amazed just like little Joffrey’s who has not stopped touching Syrax.

“This is Aemond, my girl, my brother. This is Syrax, brother.”

“She is beautiful” He whispers lifting his hands as if to touch her before quickly pulling back

At the sound of his voice Syrax turns her head towards him, her big eyes blinking slowly and her brother swallows hard, eyes even more wide as the dragon moves her head to look at him closely.

“He is one of ours, girl.” Rhaenyra tells the dragon, smiling at both “Blood of my blood.”

Once more as if he cannot avoid it Aemond raises a hand but it freezes before he can touch Syrax, looking painfully unsure, but the dragon makes the decision for them breaking the distance until he too is touching her.

“She is so warm.” Aemond whispers, frozen on the spot “The old books say that their blood is like fire, because they were first found into them, that no amount of heat could ever harm a dragon because the first one was hatched on the inside of the hottest mountain.”

“Is that so?” Rhaenyra asks, smiling fondly at both son and brother, both of them entranced by Syrax who clearly preens at their adoration

“Yes! That is why so many people seek to obtain their bones, they make some of the finest weapons on the world because it’s not like any other known material, as it is stronger than steel but much more easy to mold, what makes it possible to turn into a weapon since no amount of fire is capable of making a dent into it let alone make it bend.” Aemond says, eyes not moving from Syrax, and he continues “No one truly knows how big a dragon can become, Balerion was the biggest known and also the oldest and he grew until his death but we can’t know if there were others older or bigger in Valyria before the Doom because a lot of registers are lost, some books say that Balerion died at his age because of all the battles and injuries he gained, that it’s possible for dragons to live much longer.”

“You know a lot about them, don’t you?” Rhaenyra asks, raising a eyebrow

But her remark has the opposite effect of what she expected as Aemond closes on himself, eyes downcast and his movements on Syrax still. His next words automatically making her frown.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to ramble.”

“Don’t apologize.” She demands “You know much about dragons and that is not a bad thing, it means that when you get yours you will be much more prepared than many other riders.”

The smile and look of wonder she gets as an answer both warm and breaks her heart.

This is my brother, Rhaenyra thinks with a pang on her chest. He is not my mother’s son, but he is blood of my blood, and I could have lost him today without having never known him, he would be death and I would be unaware of who he was, I would not known how much he loves dragons, how he longs for one, how he views me as a good mother without us ever having a proper conversation. How much she would have missed because of old resentments, how little she knows of her own family.

Not anymore. She decides right there and then, no more she will allow the feud between her and Alicent to create a rift between her and her siblings, they are the blood of the dragon and therefore family, they need each other, they need to stand strong and united against the threats of the realm.

Not anymore, Rhaenyra swears to herself, moving so she can stand as close as possible to her brother. They are family and it’s past the time they start to act as such.

“Thank you sister.” Aemond says after they arrive at the Red Keep, most evidence of the dreadful first moment of their encounter erased, he looks happier, has not stopped smiling once

“You are welcome, little brother.” She smiles at him back “I hope this was not the only moment we spend together, I truly enjoyed our time and I’m sure little Joffrey also very much like his uncle and would not mind seeing him more.”

“I would like it too sister.”

“Good.” She frees one arm to pull him against her once more “Now go take a bath, little brother, you stink of dragon.”

“You stink of dragon.” He says affronted, eyes shining and sticking out his tongue

“Oh you little brat, I will have this tongue since you like to flaunt it around.” She fakes a frown, easily

discovered by the smile on her lips, and tries to hold his tongue between her fingers

Aemond runs away laughing and Rhaenyra has to repress her own laughter although there is no hiding the fond smile splitting her face in two. She realizes later, while in her bath because she is actually stinking of dragon, that this was the first time she has ever heard her younger brother’s laughter.

Rhaenyra vows to herself that it will not be the last.

Chapter 2

Chapter Text

Rhaenyra waits for the next day to call for her children for a private conversation.

Dinner last night was a quiet and tense affair as it usually is, father is the only one who insists on making it a tradition for them to eat together as often as possible and Rhaenyra does not have the heart to deny him when it looks like he is wasting away in front of her eyes, growing weaker every passing day, he doesn’t even has to appeal to his sickness to convince her, and Alicent, every inch the doting wife in the Court’s eyes, makes everything to please him gathering her children to join even if they all look like they wanted to be everywhere but there, but there are some subtle differences that jumped out to Rhaenyra, mostly because this time she was looking for them.

Aemond had glanced at her direction more often, giving her a small smile, subtle enough that his mother would not notice, and beaming around his cup when she returned it, he must have not told anyone of the events of earlier because Alicent made no comment of it, and he was clad into fresh clothes so despistes his words he must have taken a bath. Rhaenyra does not miss the way her children and Aegon dip their heads together to whisper among themselves either, giggling quietly and not very discreetly pushing the vegetables out their plates, neither do she miss the looks they give Aemond when pork is served, Aegon letting out a loud laughter that got him reprimanded by his mother, and her children giggling.

Rhaenyra frowns and a long look at her children has Luke blushing and elbowing his brother who after a confused look at his brother also regains his composure. But the damage is done and Aemond spends the last part of dinner pushing the food around his plate and refusing to talk with anyone other than his sister.

She wonders later, laying in her bed but with sleep evading her, how long has this been going on. Children are rambiticious creatures she knows and awfully self-centered in their chase for entertainment, she likes to think she raised her boys well enough that they do not take joy into the suffering of others, that this is just a case of blindness- Of going along with a idea from a beloved uncle-, than an act of maliciousness, that opening their eyes will be what takes to right this particular wrong.

They have the routine of breaking their fast together, sometimes accompanied by Laenor, sometimes not and in this particular day he is gone before sunrise, surely looking forward to scratch that itch he always get when he spends too much time away from the sea, and she thinks better like this- Laenor is a lovely father and for that he struggles with calling the boys in their misgivings and correcting their behavior appealing to their usual pristine manners and excusing their wrongdoings as a normal experience of childhood.

But this wrongdoing cannot be excused, not when it causes harm and tears at an already fragile thread.

The boys arrive as usual and she has ordered the kitchens to prepare their favorites and the way their eyes lighten up when they see the spread makes a smile blossom on her own lips.

“Good morning mom.” Luke chirps, always a early bird full of boundless energy

“Good morning sweetheart.” She kisses his brow when he comes to sit at her side, repeating the gesture when Jace takes the other side with a grunt, eyes still half closed.

They eat mostly in silence, Luke sometimes breaking it to comment on something interesting they learned the day before or some expectation for the day to come and she hums in answer to encourage him to continue. Jace, so clever and perceptive her boy is despite his young age, however keeps sending her glances and questioning looks but holds his tongue until the youngest has finished his meal.

“Is something wrong mother? You are very quiet today.” Jacaerys asks, his dark eyes (his father’s eyes, so sincere, so full of love and adoration, how she wished she could boost about it) never leaving her face

“There is indeed something I want to talk with both of you about.” She nods, seething down her cutlery and alternating looking at the two

“Is granddad okay? He didn’t get worse did he?” Luke asks worriedly

“No, your grandfather is fine.” She gives his hand a reassuring pat “I want to talk about what happened after your lessons at the dragon pit yesterday.”

“But nothing happened.” Luke frowns as if trying to remember what she must mean

“You mean the prank?” Jace asks and he looks away from her, playing with her fingers in a nervous gesture

“Yes, the prank.” A frown is made know in her face and her voice drops a bit “Whose idea was that?”

“Oh, that?” Luke giggles a bit “It was Uncle Aegon’s idea, we made the wings and tail ourselves! It was not easy to get the cooks to let us take a pig but Uncle convinced them.”

“How do you know about that?” Jace asks as soon as the youngest finishes speaking

“Aemond told me about it, after.” She answers Jace first, before turning to Lucerys “Why did you two agree to that?”

“It was funny.” Lucerys answer but he must feel the change in the atmosphere as he looks at his older brother, smile getting weaker “Right, Jace?”

“Aegon gave the idea and we just… It sounded like a funny prank.” Jace answer weaker than his brother

“Funny for who?” Rhaenyra asks without missing a beat “For you and Aegon?”

“Yes?” Luke says, more a question than anything

“And why was it funny?”

“What?” Jace frowns, looking at her for the first time since the start of the conversation, the movement with her fingers stopping

“What was funny about what you three did? Where was the joy in that? You said you did it because it was funny, but I fail to see which part of it was supposed to be laughter worthy”

“It’s because Aemond doesn’t have a dragon, and the pig was supposed to be his dragon.” Lucerys tries to explain but he now is too avoiding her eyes

“So the fun was humiliating your uncle? Was making him sad?”

“He wasn’t sad!” Jace is quick to point out, eyes wide “He was angry and he called us foul names, but he wasn’t sad about it.”

“Yes he was.” Rhaenyra says, still frowning “Just because he did not want to give you the satisfaction of seeing it doesn’t mean he wasn’t sad, as I know he cried over it.”

“No, no, that can’t be.” Luke exclaims and his eyes are a bit teary now “Uncle Aemond doesn’t cry, like ever, not even when he loses in the fights at training or when his mother yells at him or when we say things about him not having a dragon, he never cries mom.”

Oh her sweet, sweet summer child. Luke is such a sweet soul, fierce and energetic of course, stubborn as her father likes to tell her she herself was in her youth, but she also wear his heart on his sleeves, his emotions bared for all to see, so of course he would assume that just because Aemond does not express himself so openly and so easily that things do not affect him in the same ways, that he doesn’t get hurt by words and actions.

“He never cries when you can see Luke.” She says, face softening and holding one of his hands in her’s, the other still being played with by Jace “But your words and your pranks hurt his feelings, I know it even if he did not told me so, yesterday he was excited when you called for him because he thought you three cared enough to try to help him, what a bitter surprise it was when you revealed that you only wanted to humiliate him.”

“We didn’t want to hurt him mom, we swear we didn’t.” Jace’s voice sound wet

“I know you didn’t sweetling.” Rhaenyra says, kinder now “But that was what happened, what you saw as funny was anything but to him. I know you two are not cruel souls, but your actions towards Aemond are cruel nonetheless, has he done anything to warrant those actions? Has he mocked you two?”

“No.” Jace says miserably, eyes downcast once more “I’m sorry, mother.”

“I have nothing to forgive you for, Jace, it was not me who was hurt by those actions.”

“But you are mad at us.” Luke says and a tear falls down his eye that Rhaenyra is quick to wipe away

“I’m not mad, Luke, I’m however disappointed with both of you because I know your hearths, I know that you two are kind and good boys but in this situation your actions went against who me and your father raised you to become. I want you two to be proud of yourselves and stand by your actions and decisions, but I cannot turn a blind eye when you two make mistakes, it’s my duty to guide you to the right path.” Rhaenyra pauses, takes a breath and continues, voice quiet and gentle “You two are the heirs to the Iron Throne and to Driftmark, people are always going to be looking at you two and judging everything you do, there will always be people making suggestions and inviting you two to partake in their plans, and the making of a good ruler is being able to remain firm in your morals, you do not have to be cruel to rule.”

“I felt bad, after.” Jace confesses “When we got back to the Red Keep and Aemond didn’t join us like he used to, it felt wrong, felt like we did something that crossed the line.”

“And that is a good thing, Jace, you recognized to yourself that those actions are wrong, now it’s time to take the next step.”

“Will he forgive us, mother?” Luke asks, voice small

“I don’t know, sweetheart.” Rhaenyra says honestly “But I believe you should apologize and wait for his answer, Aemond is your family and the blood of the dragon runs in all of our veins, he knows the weight of family and I believe that this situation can be savaged, he doesn’t hate you.”

“We will apologize, mother, as soon as we can find a moment and I swear on my honor as your son that we will not shame ourselves by acting like this ever again.” Jacaerys says and pride blossom on her chest because no matter how young her son is, she can see the making of a great king

“And I am very proud of both of you for that. Remember that you are not defined by your mistakes, what will matter in the long run is how you dealt with them, this does not need to be the death of your relationship with Aemond, it can be just a rebirth.”

After finishing, Rhaenyra pulls both boys to her arms, hugging them tightly against her body and caressing their heads as they cling to her and Luke’s tears wet the fabric of her dress. They stay in this embrace for long moments, none of them hurried to break it and when the boys finally pull back she makes sure to kiss their foreheads and they both smile light at her.

They can get past this, Rhaenyra is sure of that. Her boys are good souls, dutiful and kind and now that their eyes have been opened to their mistake she is sure they will do everything to right this wrong and truly it’s not going to be that hard- Aemond is just a boy who wants friends, when he starts to believe their change of hearts Rhaenyra is sure that all maesters in this castle will have a hard time dealing with their combined mischief.

She cannot wait for that day.

The next time Rhaenyra catches a lone moment with her younger brother he is once more filthy with ashes and dust, although this time from a very different source.

“What in seven hells are you doing?” Rhaenyra asks, half amused and half exasperated.

Aemond curses, his choice of words making her eyebrows rise to her hairline because she is sure that his own mother would not be very pleased by that, and in his haste to get out from in the middle of the burned remains of the fire of last night hits his head on the archway of the hearth. Despite his fine clothing the boy looks more like one of the kids of Flea Bottom than a Targaryen prince, hair in dismay and painted grey with dirt.

“Well?” Rhaenyra prompts once more, trying very hard not to laugh at his expression

“Oh, it’s you.” Aemond says with relief before rolling his eyes and going right back to messing around in the heart “You scared me sister, I thought it was one of the maids, or worse, mother.”

“Oh, I’m very sorry for not announcing my presence, brother.” Rhaenyra rolls her eyes to his back, approaching him “But you have yet to explain to me what you are doing rolling around in the dirt.”

“Helaena lost one of her bravoosi wyrms yesterday during dinner.” He says like that explains everything

“And how exactly does that relate to you skipping your lessons to ravish our hearth?”

“She is not supposed to bring her animals to dinner, because you know, most of them are a bit disgusting, but she forgot that she had that one with her before coming and the thing escaped and we can’t ask anyone to help look for them because that would mean admitting she broke the rule. Hel told me that this wyrm like heat and that it sleeps during the day so it makes sense for him to be here, right? So I’m trying to find the stupid thing while Helaena distracts the maester for me.”

“Aren’t wyrms just a bit too big for all that?”

“This is apparently a rare species local to a specific region of Braavos, father brought it for her the last time a ship came to King’s Landing, it’s not really big, like the size of my forearm? Very ugly thought, it’s just a glorified worm but Helaena really likes them and is inconsolable.”

“So you volunteered yourself to help her, that’s very kind of you.”

“Just because her sniffling around is annoying, not because I care or anything.” The boy mumbles and Rhaenyra does not need to see his face to know he is blushing

“Of course.” She nods seriously, a smile playing on her lips “Do you need help?”

“You will get all dirty.” He says coming back out to shake his head at her

“Nonsense, it will be much faster to find it with two people looking.” She makes a dismissive gesture pulling her skirt just enough to kneel besides him in the hearth

It’s a big hearth, it has to be to warm the considerable sized room, and Aemond is not exactly a impressive figure at nine namedays, so they both fit comfortably, the prince huffs just once but then dives right back in, pushing around the ashes and half burned woods with much more care than his annoyed expression would led you to believe.

Rhaenyra almost laughs, picturing someone entering the room and finding them both like this.

The Court would have gossip to last them many moons that’s for sure.

They search in comfortable silence, wordlessly splitting the space in two areas to search and Rhaenyra takes his example carefully pushing around the ashes and wood let she accidentally hurt the wyrm. And it pays off when after a while she pushes a pile of ashes around, still warm to the touch, and hidden underneath it she finds the “glorified worm” who to be fair to her brother is truly ugly, just a curled thing with no limbs, his skin feeling almost like scales of a dulled red color and when Rhaenyra touches it the thing is very hot to the touch.

“I think I found it.” She says out loud

“You did!” Aemond grins to her “Thank you sister, Helaena will be really happy!”

Aemond doesn’t hesitate to pick the animal up, still very much careful, crawling out of the hearth and offering a hand to help Rhaenyra up that she takes just to be polite. She looks down to her clothes, not really surprised to see them full of ashes and dust, and sighs exasperated. Aemond looks at her and promptly bursts out in laughter.

“May I know what you are laughing at brother?” She asks forcing her expression to one of seriousness that just makes him laugh harder

“Your face is all dirty.” He manages to say between his giggles

“And you think your’s aren’t?” The princess demands “Anyone who doesn’t know you would never believe they are in the presence of a prince such is the state of your clothes and hair.”

“Yeah but you are weird looking like this.” He explains, eyes teared of laughter “You are always so well dressed, and all princess-like, and now your hair is all messed up and you are full of ashes.”

“Brat!” Rhaenyra hisses, not heat into her words as she playfully pulls his ear “You will see if I will ever help you again.”

“Yes, you will.” He rolls his eyes at her, voice full of confidence

“How can you be so sure of it?”

“You are my sister, and family always looks out for each other, right? We are the blood of the dragon and we must be together is not that so?” His face gradually loses the innocent joy and as Rhaenyra watches, a lump forming on his throat, he looks down at the wyrm on his hand and his next words are barely over a whisper “You wouldn’t hurt us right? Me, Daeron or Aegon? You are our sister .”

Rhaenyra finds herself lost for words, a lump swallowing her attempts to say anything, mind reeling back with the weight of such a question. This is such a heavy question, loaded with so much ugliness, so much underserved fear. Part of her wants to demand to know where this comes from? What has she ever done to him for Aemond to have doubts over the fact that she would not hurt her own blood? This is such a ugly claim, to imply that Rhaenyra is such a terrible person that she would be capable of bringing him harm.

Another part of her knows the roots of this fear, knows who planted those seeds.

She says nothing, unsure of where to begin, but she unfreezes her limps and pull Aemond to another hug, who he goes as willingly as he did before effortlessly hugging back, one of her hands pressing his head against her, covering his ear as if she could protect him from the cruel whispers and lies.

“Why do you have to ask that, brother?” She finally forces the words out, tightening her grip on him “What reason would I have to hurt you or your brothers?”

“The Throne” He whispers, his hands also tightening their holds into her dress “To make sure no one would try to take it from you, so that no one has any claim to it.”

“I would never hurt you. Or your siblings.” She whispers back, throat still dry “You are my blood Aemond, I could never in good mind hurt any of you simply for the sake of the throne, surely even the gods would forsaken a reign that begins with an act of kinslayer.”

“We don’t want it.” He says back, pushing back so he can look her in the eyes, his own are wide and almost scared. “We don’t want to claim your throne sister, none of us, please believe me.”

“I believe you, brother.” She shushes him, pulling him back to her arms “I swear to you Aemond, for my life and the life of my children, that I have no plans or intentions to cause harm to you or your siblings, it would me my biggest joy to have the four of you at my side when I take the throne.”

Rhaenyra finds anger burning inside her chest.

The urge to go stalking the halls until she finds Alicent barely surpassed by the acknowledgement of how foolish that would be. The desire to fly to Oldtown and feed Otto Hightower to Syrax is even stronger.

Maybe she should have delayed her appearance to Dragonstone so many years ago, if she had arrived just a day later surely Daemon would have found a way of killing Otto and while father would be unbelievably angry at that, for he cared about that snake despiste all the warnings and good sense, he would have eventually pardoned her uncle and welcomed him back, his love for his brother always stronger than anything others would have to say about his penchant for forgiving him for all his actions.

If Otto had died, surely Rhaenyra would not have her arms full of a younger brother who feared he and his siblings would be hurt or, worse, killed for the sake of the Iron Throne.

Oh this explains so much, she thinks sadly, explains how dead set Alicent is to keep the children away from her, truth be told Rhaenyra had not cared about forming a bond with Aegon on his youth, wounds and resentment far too fresh, but she remembers trying to see little Helaena, excited about having a sister, and being turned away time and time again, always with some flimsy excuse that made attempts of pushing from her part be interpreted as improper. The same with Aemond to the point she did not even try with Daeron already too busy with her own children.

If they see her as a stranger then these seeds of fear can grow unbidden. Can be watered as much as they please and her forced distance be used as fertilizer, as another proof she does not care for them and would easily do the monstrous things they accuse her capable off.

This is how wars begin. She thinks horrified and nauseous, hugging Aemond so strongly it would be no surprise if he complained. This is how brother is pitied against brother, this is how tragedy strikes.

Only House Targaryen can ruin House Targaryen, and oh how easily have they started to trail the path of this dreadful outcome.

The amount of greed needed for a person to use children, children of their own blood, as pawns, to have them grow in fear, feed resentments that existed before they came to this world. Rhaenyra could never do this to Jace, Luke or Joff, could never willingly set them into a path where their safety and happiness are not the priority.

I am the rightful Heir of the Iron Throne , Rhaenyra thinks furiously, I will not let my honor be slandered . I will not allow lies about myself to keep my family divided and at odds. I will not allow the greed of snakes in their towers to make enemies of my siblings, I will not allow my own blood to become my worst foes.

“I love you, brother.” Rhaenyra says and pushes him back just enough that they can look into each other’s eyes “And rest assured for it’s my dearest wish to see our family united.”

“You should come with me, to give the wyrm back to Helaena.” Her brother says, raising his hand still cradling the creature “It would make her really happy that you cared to help search for it.”

And Rhaenyra has duties to attend to, and clearly clothes to change and hair and face to clean, but all of that pales in comparison to what she has just learned, her most pressing duty is to put the mind of her siblings to rest, to make them realize the poisonous lies that have been feed to them.

“I would love to.” She smiles, caressing his face as if to clean the dirt as futile as it is given the state of her hands “Lead the way brother, I’m sure dear Helaena must be running out of excuses to give to your maester.”

He takes her hands, guiding her out of the room and Rhaenyra does nothing but adjust the grip. And if people stare at the heir and her younger brother walking around full of ashes and dust, then let them stare.

Chapter 3

Chapter Text

Aemond is quick to guide her to where Helaena is, the girl is clad into a ivory dress, so pale that with her equally pale hair makes her look more of a ghost than a girl, her hands crossed behind her back and her eyes fixed at some point in the wall even as she speaks with a annoyed looking maester, her words too soft to be heard from the distance.

Ser Harrold, who the gods may bless him had only arched a amused eyebrow when Rhaenyra had emerged from the room full of ashes holding the hand of a even more dirty young prince, enters the room first announcing their arrival and the maester looks relieved for half a second before his eyes land on Aemond and the man’s expression darken, walking in their direction already shaking his walking cane.

“My prince!” The man spits, glaring at the boy “Where exactly have you been? Do you know how late it is? You are already behind on your lessons and now this! This is no behavior of a young noble and I expected much better from you.”

“But Aegon is late for his lessons all the time!” Aemond complains and he moves so he is partially behind his sister “And he is much worse at Valyrian!”

“Prince Aegon has other duties to attend to! He is the first born son of the king and as such one must understand when he cannot be timely with his lessons, you on the other hand have no such excuses, my prince.” The maester continues and his eyes are locked on the prince, not even making mention of Rhaenyra’s presence “Is it necessary for me to write for your lord grandfather once more, my prince? He is due for another visit and surely he should be informed of your lack of discipline.”

The annoyance at being ignored so disrespectfully turns into anger very quickly with the maester’s final words. Aemond clutches her dress with his free hand and his eyes get wide at the mention of his grandfather and even if he tries to hide it there is a blink and you miss it flinch at his mention, his grip on her dress so tight his knuckles get white.

There is a history there, a reason behind this threat and Rhaenyra dislikes the implications of it. Has Otto Hightower continued to sink his claws into her family all the way from Oldtown? Does he still hold such power? Rhaenyra is no foul and knows where the Citadel’s loyalty lies and it’s not primarily with the crown, it should have been obvious to them all that the maesters would not be neutral in the eternal struggle of power.

“Prince Aemond was in my company, maester.” Rhaenyra finally speaks, her tone hard and her eyes even more so, she doesn’t even know this fool’s name “As he was helping me with important matters, surely his tardiness can be excused when it was for the sake of the heiress?”

The old man has the good sense to realize the danger in her expression and backs off a few steps, expression failing into something much more demure as if a mask slips into place. She is not impressed with his acting skills and continues to glare at him waiting for an answer.

“My most sincere apologies, princess Rhaenyra, I did not know of the justification for the prince’s tardiness.”

“You would if you had cared to ask one of us before making assumptions.” She says back and the man just bows his head with more apologies. “You can leave now, maester, if necessary I will aid him with his late lessons.”

“Oh no my princess!” The man exclaims with his eyes as big as plates “I cannot ask such a thing, surely my lady has more important matters to attend to!”

“I was not making a suggestion.” Rhaenyra says without missing a beat, cutting whatever excuse the man would come with “Please leave me and my siblings.”

The maester is no fool to go against a direct order and scurries away. Rhaenyra wonders what will he do first- Write about this to Otto or seek a private audience with Alicent.

When the door closes behind him, Aemond lets go of her dress, surely now wrinkled besides dirty, and smooths his expression back to a mask of indifference. She will ask about this latter of course, and also bring the matter of their lessons with Jace and Luke to see what they have to say, there are implications she is not happy with and Rhaenyra has to know what kind of people have been tasked with teaching her siblings and her children, but now they have another mission to complete.

Helaena, who has watched their exchange with wide violet eyes and picking at her nails (a vision so familiar it knocks the breath of a Rhaenyra for a few seconds, she never realized that despite her Targaryen coloring of all four children Helaena is almost a carbon copy of her mother in her own youth), just keeps looking at them for a few moments before deciding to approach with careful steps.

“Sister.” She makes a courtesy to Rhaenyra and the formality makes her ache inside, before turning anxious and red rimmed eyes to Aemond “Brother.”

“Rhaenyra found it, Hel!” Aemond skips the greeting, smiling a bit and extending the wyrm to her

The change into Helaena’s posture is breathtaking to see. The girl’s face lightens up with a smile, violet eyes shining and she stands straighter, abandoning the meekness and careful manners of seconds before to cross the distance taking the creature into her hands, cooing softly at the thing, caressing it like one would do to a beloved pet.

“It was hiding among the ashes of the hearth.” Rhaenyra comments “Is it unharmed?”

Helaena snaps her attention back from the wyrm to look at her sister for the first time, even if she does not maintain eye contact, and a small smile plays at her lips.

“Thank you so much for helping, sister. He is fine, he just likes heat, I was just worried he would wake before we found him and wander.” The smile dies and when she continues there is grief in her young voice “People do not understand him, and when they don’t understand they fear and they hate. I was afraid they would hurt him, thinking him dangerous.”

“I am glad we found it before that could happen, sister.” Rhaenyra says softly, she makes a movement to put a hand on Helaena’s shoulder but a gentle pull on her sleeve from Aemond stops her, the boy shaking his head, and she aborts the gesture “And now he is safe with you once more.”

“Yes, but please remember to not go to dinner with another one again.” Aemond huffs, sounding annoyed even if there is no heat behind his words “I will not help you look for one of those disgusting co*ckroaches if you lose them.”

“They are not co*ckroaches.” Helaena says, almost sounding exasperated

“Well, they look like it!”

“But they are not!” The girl huffs before sending a blinding smile to her brother “Thank you Aemond, I know you will get grieve for missing your lesson, I will not forget this.”

“Don’t make a big deal of it, it was nothing.” The prince mumbles, the tip of his ears going red “Just be careful.”

“I will be, I promise.” The girl nods and share a shy look of amusem*nt with Rhaenyra

Rhaenyra has heard much about her sister, there is never shortage of gossip in the Red Keep and people can be unforgiven. She has heard about all the so-called weird nature of the young princess, of how she often speaks in riddles, of how she will say random things that contribute nothing to the matter at hand, how she is meek and plain. The girl in front of her merely looks soft, it once more reminds Rhaenyra of the ghosts of easier days, of a girl with star in her eyes who did not know how to make herself heard, who blunted things out only to regret moments later.

She vows she will get to know this girl, will look beyond the words of gossipers and learn by herself who Helaena truly is. For far too long Rhaenyra has allowed herself to be pushed aside, has allowed herself to be stranger (and maybe enemy) rather than sister.

“If anything like this ever happens again please feel comfortable asking for a servant to find me or my children, sister, we would be more than glad to help you.”

“Really?” The girl asks, looking down softly at the wyrm clad into her hands

“Of course.” Rhaenyra nods and with a hand on Aemond’s shoulder and a gesture for Helaena guides them until they are seated side by side “Do you know that once Luke lost Arrax?”

“How does one loses a dragon?” Aemond asks in astonishment

“He was very young and Arrax was still small, probably the size of a small dog as he was slow to grown, Luke decided it would be a brilliant idea to sneak him to the Keep and feed him dinner scraps to see if he would grow bigger faster, of course what happened was that the dragon wandered around while he slept.”

“And how did he find him?” Helaena asks

“Oh, he didn’t” Rhaenyra huffs, amused at the memory “He woke up Jace for them to search but unlike your wyrm young dragons do not stay in one place for too long and when it was nearing afternoon and they could not find Arrax they burst into a small council meeting in tears. Ser Harwin eventually found the little runaway sleeping in one of the hearths of the throne room, a place both of them swore they had searched.”

Both children giggle alongside her at the image of the two boys looking for a dragon and very likely passing by his hiding spot multiple times without spotting him. Laenor had laughed himself silly afterwards when they retreated to their chambers, both boys scolded and comforted equally, and Rhaenyra could not help but join him, it is still one of her favorite memories about her sons' younger days, a testament of the innocence of youth.

Speaking of them, as if summoned by the tales of their youth, Jace’s dark head peeks into the room and his face lights up at seeing his mother before seething into something much more serious as it stops at Aemond, who also stops laughing, a mask of indifference back in place.

“Mother.” He greets her and Luke’s head also appears giving her a smile in greeting, both unfazed by the state of her “We are wondering if Aemond’s lessons are over? We… We wanted to talk.”

Her brother’s violet eyes widen and he crosses his arms in a defenside gesture, a negative on the tip of his tongue if Rhaenyra had to bet, but she puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes, he looks at her and Rhaenyra smiles.

“Give it a chance, brother, I have a feeling this talk will be good to all of you.”

He stills hesitates for long moments, enough for Luke and Jace to grown restless at the door, but the boy eventually nods, getting up and dusting his clothes as if that would make a difference, kissing Helaena in the cheek and hesitating before giving the quickest kiss on Rhaenyra’s cheek as well and almost running out the room to join his nephews, ears burning pink.

Rhaenyra touches the spot his lips barely grazed and feels a silly smile blooming on her own face, she gives an encouraging nod to her boys who leave with nods of their own.

“He will not have to close an eye.” Helaena murmurs, caressing her wyrm “The talk will be good to all of us.”

“What?” Rhaenyra turns to look at the younger princess, whose attention is solely on the wyrm, eyes distant

“Green is the poison of the dragons.” She continues, not hearing or ignoring the question “But we do not have to drink it. Aegon has not drunk it yet and Aemond has started to reject it.”

And suddenly Helaena turns, abandoning the wyrm on her laps so that she can clasp Rhaenyra’s hands into her’s, violet eyes wide and for once looking to be focused on what is happening, her grip is strong and her hands as cold as if she had kept them in a bucket of ice.

“Please don’t let my brothers drown in green, sister. Please.” Her voice shakes and suddenly Helaena looks so much older than her name days tell, face haunted “Spool of green, spool of black, spinning, spinning so fast.”

Rhaenyra feels cold all over, like the coldness of her sister’s hand has spread all over her body, breath stuck somewhere in her ribcage, shivers running down her spine. The last time she felt like this was when father had shared Aegon’s dream with her, shared the secret only those who would sit upon the Iron Throne should know, spoken words carried by generations of Targaryens before them carrying with them the heavy burden of a duty who went so much beyond them, who put to much more pressure into everything going forward.

This feels like this as well, as if Helaena has trusted Rhaenyra with the forbidden acknowledgement of what is to come and trusted upon her the duty and burden of managing it.

Rhaenyra wonders, half horrified, half mesmerized, what else Helaena knows. How much her sister’s see and doesn’t share with the rest of them.

Such a heavy burden, on such young and frail shoulders.

Her first instinct is to pull the girl into a hug, to caress her long silvery hair and murmur words of comfort into her ear as she would do to her own kids and recently has taken of doing to Aemond but something stops her, the small hand tugging her sleeve to stop a similar gesture, and in place she just squeezes the hands holding her owns as if she can warm Helaena with her own body heat.

“You and your brothers are the blood of my blood, we are family and we have remained adrift and divided for too long. It’s the desire of my heart to see us standing side by side, sister, and I will do whatever is in my power to ensure that is what happens. I would never lay a hand on any of you.”

Rhaenyra has never truly understood her father’s desire to see them united as family, by a practical point of view it made the uttermost sense as a family busy struggling internally becomes so much more vulnerable to outsider attacks and the strength of the House Targaryen is the same as the strength of the Iron Throne and the Realm itself, but her father’s desire went much beyond the political reasoning, it was a desire born from the deepest of his heart and whenever he saw them all together in peace he looked years younger and so much fuller of energy.

She understands it now.

She understood when Aemond looked at her and basically begged her to not be hurt, she understands now when Helaena is looking at her with fear filled eyes. She understands now that she realizes she has never spoken with Daeron, understands now that she searches her brain trying to find the last time she had a conversation with Aegon that was not forced by others and finds herself coming empty.

They are her siblings yet they are strangers at the same time and the acknowledgment of this fact hurts something deep inside her chest. This is not how things are supposed to be.

This is not how things will be from now on.

Her words apparently have worked their magic to erase Helaena’s worries for the girl sighs deeply once, letting go of her hands to once more pick her wyrm lifting the thing until it is eye level with her, eyes seething themselves into something much calmer as if all the early fear disappeared as fast as it came. The sudden change gives Rhaenyra whiplash but she does her best to control the shaking of her hands and the way her heart is still beating so much faster than usual.

They stay in this strange atmosphere which is not uncomfortable but it’s still far from being light either, until Helaena breaks the silence, her voice softer and with a breezy quality to it.

“He is beautiful, isn’t him?” The princess asks lifting her wyrm once more

“He’s… certainly interesting.” Rhaenyra says after a beat of silence

“You are very kind, sister.” Helaena giggles quietly “Not many mind their words when speaking of my friends.”

“You seem to care very much about them.” Rhaenyra explains with a shrug just to frown after “Are people being cruel to you over this?”

“People are always cruel towards what they don’t understand.” Helaena says softly, resignated “Aegon thinks me an idiot and mother convinces herself that this is a phase I must grow out of in order to fit in with the other ladies. She wishes for me to get rid of my friends but I don’t want to, they are my friends and they bring me comfort.”

“Then you shall keep them for as long as your heart desires sister. You are the blood of the dragon and owe no explanation to others, and if anyone tries to take your friends from you, even your lady mother, then call for me immediately for I will help you.”

“Truly? Do you mean it?” Helaena asks with eyes wide in both hope and disbelief

“Of course! I never make empty promises, especially not to my only sister.”

“Thank you sister.” The pleased blush spreading on her pale cheeks is lovely and Rhaenyra smiles softly back “Do you want to hold him?”

Truly the answer is a no, Rhaenyra is not really fond of any type of bugs and this particular one is quite unfortunate looking, but Helaena looks so hopeful and denying her would be something akin to denying Luke a hug- Simply an act of cruelty. So Rhaenyra nods, opening her hands so Helaena can transfer the wyrm.

Even away from the heat of the burnt ashes the creature is still hot, hot like the brow of a child suffering from a fever, automatically warming her hands and just as unmoving as it had been when Rhaenyra found it, curled into itself to the point she cannot see where the head is.

“He’s incredibly hot.” She remarks lifting the thing to get a better look at it

“He’s from a region of Braavos known for its scalding heat, but no one truly knows where they truly came from in the origin of the species, some believe they are volcano born just like dragons.” Helaena says, still looking at her friend “He doesn’t like the cold, that’s why I had him with me before going to dinner, I was trying to get him warmer because the fire in the room was out of wood and I didn’t want him to wake up at night cold and alone.”

“That was very kind of you, little sister, I’m sure he felt much better thanks to your care.”

“I hope so. I fear he is lonely, father brought me just him and there have been no merchant ships from that region ever since. I want to give him a friend, I read they are social creatures and I worry that being alone at such a place, which does not understand or cares about him, will be damaging.”

“We could send a message on the next ship from Braavos to arrive that you are looking for another one of them, I’m sure this will get a merchant aware enough to bring one to present to you as soon as they are able.”

“Oh, that would be lovely! Would you help me with that, sister?” Helaena claps delighted

“Of course! Now, tell me, what was it about you keeping co*ckroaches of all things that Aemond said?”

“They are not co*ckroaches!” The princess exclaims “They are a species of beetles from Lys, they have nothing in common with the co*ckroaches found in Westeros, actually if you look at their bodies they are most similar to our ladybugs…”

And this is how Rhaenyra spends her day, duties forgotten, need for a bath and a fresh set of clothes left to be dealt another time, all her attention focused on Helaena and her bottomless amount of informations over a number of creatures Rhaenyra has never heard about, a sleeping wyrm held safely on her hands as she hear her sister ramble about her passion with a shine on her eyes that finally make her look like the kid she still is.

When they finally part, Helaena hesitates a second before grabbing her hand and squeezing it, a hurried “thank you, sister” before she darts out the room with her face flushed.

Rhaenyra’s smile is so large it hurts her cheeks. Maybe next time she can ask Helaena to show her friends to her, she bets that some if not all of them must have names, learning about them would prove a much more interesting afternoon than hearing old lords and their endless complaints that is for sure.

Aemond feels like he is going to be sick, not that he will ever let anyone know this. He walks behind his nephews with his head held high, arms still stubbornly crossed, and face an expressionless mask.

There is a voice in the back of his mind telling him to take the next set of stairs and go as far away from them as possible. This is a trap, just another lead up to another stupid (painful) prank of theirs, the last time Aemond had accepted an invitation from Jace he ended up humiliated with a pig, what reason he has to believe that this is not just something worst?

The thought of being made fun of in front of all the other nobles makes the nausea stronger. Like they have any more need to make comments about him, the second son of the king and the only royal child without a dragon or even an egg to call his own, he knows they either pity him or laugh at his back and he doesn’t know what is the worst of the two.

Everytime he gets those stupid look he feels the urge to scream and kick, to tell to shut the f*ck up because none of them understand sh*t, but mother’s lessons always make him reign in his temper.

Grandfather is always harsher with her when he feels like she is not doing a good enough job with them. Mom always gets more tense around the times grandfather is scheduled to visit, more demanding of them in behavior and lessons equally, but it’s never enough and grandfather always has something to complain about.

Aegon is not focused enough, not ambitious enough, no proper heir.

Helaena is not right either, too weird, too attached to her bugs.

Aemond is too much, too much like him, grandfather will practically spite the words, anger in his eyes every time he looks at him.

None of them are what grandfather wants and mother feels like this is her fault, as if she could not raise them to meet his standards and as such needs to train them harder. She is always harsher, more distant, after grandfather has gone away, softening only after the dark cloud he leaves behind dissipates with time.

She will have enough grief to deal with because of them without Aemond making everything worse by having a tantrum. It hurts his heart to see her so desolated during their talks, the subtle way her hands shake as she talks about what is aflicting her heart, makes him want to do something to make the burden on her shoulders as light as possible, nagging Aegon so she doesn’t have to, furious that he doesn’t realize that his laziness affects others too, protecting Helaena from people’s stupid comments, shielding her as much as possible.

It’s exhausting. Sometimes he would like to just be, to get together with his nephews and brother and join in their pranks, to laugh and play with them after training like they are allowed to be like any other child and just enjoy themselves with no worries, to feel like for once he does not need to be the rule following one, to not have to carry the weight of knowing things, to be heard instead of having to hear others.

But of course neither his nephews or his brother are very interested in spending time with him when not to turn him into the butt of their latest prank, so it doesn’t matter what he wants.

They walk for long minutes, taking familiar corridors who he knows will take them from a secluded part of the castle where father’s private library is located, and anxiety still bubbles on his insides, still not confident this is not a prank.

But Rhaenyra had told him to go. She told him yesterday that she would talk with her sons about their behavior.

Maybe they are angry, Aemond thinks slowing his steps without realizing, maybe she scolded them and they are mad at me for snitching.

He isn’t unfamiliar with anger but it does not make it any less unpleasant. Mother’s warning about Rhaenyra and her strong boys, ringing louder in his ears. They are bastards, everyone with eyes and half a brain knows this fact, can see from where they got their dark hair and eyes, but Laenor Velaryon has claimed them as his nonetheless so any whispers of this truth is betrayal, mother has made sure to instill on them the need to keep the truth close to their hearts to be used only on the right time.

But Rhaenyra promised him she would not hurt him or his siblings.

And usually promises don’t mean sh*t, people lie all the time, but something in the deep of his soul tells him that he can, that he has, to believe her words. She did not have to be kind to him or to Helaena, did not have to hug him and wipe his tears so gently, but she did so anyway even when that would gain her nothing, would in fact mean that she lost time better spent on more important things helping him search for a glorified worm and consoling him.

Aegon doesn’t care about the Iron Throne, couldn’t give less of a f*ck if he tried, so why does he needs to care? Why should he be expected to treat his sister and his nephews as enemies keeping Aegon from his birthright when Aegon himself is beyond pleased to never carry more responsibilities than strictly necessary?

Rhaenyra wants the throne and has been trained to rule, Aegon doesn’t want the throne and has barely put any effort into learning how to manage even a castle.

What matters if his nephews are not Velaryons by blood? If the Sea Snake himself does not care that a bastard will rule over his house in the future, why should Aemond care that Jacaerys will take the Iron Throne after his mother? House Targaryen rules Westeros and Jace has as much blood of Old Valyria as he and Aegon.

Sister promised him she does not wish them hurt, that she wants them by her side. If her taking the throne doesn’t mean she will put them to the sword, surely that means that they can all just make peace with each other right? That mother’s fears are unfounded.

It doesn’t mean grandfather will stop of course, because Aemond is not stupid and he know how little of his actions are because he cares about their survival or their safety, but it means Aemond doesn’t need to listen to him anymore! He doesn’t need to slave over training and go to sleep afraid that his father will pass on his sleep and he will wake with a sword pointed at his throat, that every day Rhaenyra remains as heir is another day she worries about the challenge they put into her claim by existing.

Sister has been nothing but kind and loving towards him, he feels almost ashamed for believing she would kill them without provocation.

Finally his nephews stop in front of a door pushing it open to reveal a playroom, toys strew everywhere, books open at tables and half empty bowls of sweets that get his attention almost as soon as he stops at the doorway, warily looking around trying to see if there is any hidden trap.

He tightens his arms around himself, still unwilling to thrust. It calms his nerves somehow that both Jace and Luke also look painfully unsure of themselves, fidgeting and alternating before looking at him and then anywhere else in the room.

“So?” He forces the word out, brow furrowed “Why did you call me here?”

“We talked with our mother early today and she has helped us rethink our…”

“We are sorry, please don’t hate us!” Lucerys interrupts his brother, brown eyes wide and teary “We never, ever wanted to hurt you and we are so sorry Aemond!”

“Oh.” He says dumbly

“We are really sorry.” Jace abandons his previous speech, shoulders dropping “We didn’t think about what we were doing and it’s not fair the way we have been treating you.”

Aemond is not sure how he’s supposed to react.

People don’t… They don’t apologize to him. Helaena tries of course, but the things his sweet sister apologizes for are things for which Aemond would never dream of expecting apologizes as he does it gladly, he doesn’t mind getting in trouble with the maesters for missing lessons to help her or getting scolded by mother by his behavior towards someone who was unkind towards her so he has always refused to accept her attempts at doing it. And aside from Helaena he cannot remember the last time someone has bothered to offer him a sincere apology.

The gods know Aegon will only blurt a half assed one when mother forces him to, only to do something just as annoying right after, father barely spares him a glance let alone care enough to apologize for something and mother doesn’t apologize with words when she does something to hurt his feelings, she will get this teary gaze and pull him towards her in a crushing hug explaining her reasonings and seeing her distress will always end up with him apologizing to her, reassuring her that everything is alright because it is, mother cares but has so much pressure upon her that it sometimes explodes and it’s fine if it’s with him, better than her doing it to sweet Helaena who doesn’t deserve any of that or to Aegon, who will fumble and not know how to help her.

His silence grows too long, he feels his heart beating faster, sure he should be saying something, anything to break the tenseness because his nephews are growing teary as well, more restless and clearly having the wrong impression because Jace steps forward and even if he tries his best his voice still wombles when he speaks.

“We do not expect you to forgive us.” The younger boy says, clasping his hand behind his body “For what we have continuously done was cruel, but we hope… We hope you can give us a chance to show you we mean it.”

“We want to be friends and make things right.” Luke says, none of the decorum of his older brother, a pout on his lip “And we will bug you until you accept it!”

“Luke” Jace hisses, elbowing his brother “We talked about this, we can’t annoy someone into being our friend.”

“Of course we can.” Lucerys huffs, crossing his own arms and then he looks straight at Aemond “Mom said we are family, and she always says that family stays together so now you are stuck with us, we were being dicks to you so we have a lot to make up to.”

“Lucerys!” Jace hisses again, now pinching his brother who yelps “What my brother means is that we are determined to prove that we mean our sincerity and that, well, it would be nice to be friends and hang out together.”

“I would like that.” Aemond blurts out, dropping his arms and averting his eyes “To be friends I mean, it would… It would be nice I guess.”

This is all I ever wanted, is what he doesn’t say, I’m tired of being alone, I’m tired of watching everyone have fun without ever being invited to join. Both Jace and Luce have the same eyes of his sister when she promised to not hurt them, honest and earnest and something inside of him feels so hardly inclined to believe in them despite his initial fear.

“So you forgive us?” Jace asks, sounding as eager as Luke look

“You aren’t to do that anymore, are you? The… the pranks.” He asks and hates how his voice sound, so weak and unsure

“No! No, of course not.” Jace shakes his head crossing the space between them to hold his hands “We swear it, no more pranks, right Luke?”

“Right!” The youngest boy exclaims, shaking his head with vigor and joining his brother extending his pinky finger to him “Friends?”

Aemond hesitates only for a second before freeing one of his hands from Jace’s grip to extend his own pinky finger to his nephew who smiles as brightly as the sun at that. Jace also smiles so largely that his cheeks must be hurting and uses the hand he is still holding to properly pull Aemond into the room, already babbling about some game his father brought from some merchant from the Free Cities and explaining the rules while Luke runs around the room apparently picking up the parts of said game for them.

Aemond feels warm blossoming into his chest. This feels… Good. Like Rhaenyra said this talk did truly make things better and he makes a vow to listen to her more in the future, his sister clearly knows what she is saying.

Later when Ser Harrold Westerling goes in search of the princes for orders of Princess Rhaenyra he will be alerted of their presence by the laughter coming from one of the rooms. The old man will peek into said room and he will see the three princes sitting on the floor with some strange game between them, all of them smiling and joking among themselves, and his expression will soften considerably.

Princess Rhaenyra will have asked him to fetch her sons, but the knight will only leave as silently as he came. He will know that the Princess will not begrudge his choice to let the boys remain as boys for as long as it’s possible.

Chapter 4

Chapter Text

For once Rhaenyra is looking forward to dinner.

She had send Ser Harrold to bring her boys to her when it was nearing dinner time so she could hear how their talk with Aemond went and was both surprised and pleased when the man returned without the kids but with tales of laughter, agreeing with him that there is no need to rush the boys to their baths when they are having such a good time together.

So she is in no way surprised when the three of them arrive together, thankfully, especially in Aemond’s case, clean and using fresh clothes, heads bend together in joy, sweet Helaena emerging not long after, expression peaceful. Her father’s face lights up at seeing the boys together, smile making him look much younger and he and Rhaenyra exchange pleased looks.

Alicent on the other hand looks far too tense given the atmosphere of the others, her lips pursed and brows tight together and she calls for her son as soon as she sees him, seating the boy at her side and seeing her expression Aemond’s face fall as well, becoming much more serious.

The things Rhaenyra learned early burn in her mind. She wants to scream at Alicent, wants to shake her shoulders and demand to know if their friendship had meant so little to her that she truly believes Rhaenyra capable of putting her own flesh and blood to the sword. It hurts, this realization that someone she had once thought her best friend was so easily turned against her, she wants to demand to know what poison has Otto Hightower whispered into her ears and how dare she whisper the same things into her children’s, how dare she make them afraid of their own sister, how dare she make them believe war is a certain thing and they must act accordingly.

But she controls herself, for all of their sakes. Takes a deep breath and release the death grip on her cutlery, smiles at both Aemond and Helaena who return with small grins of their own, nods into Aegon’s direction who looks confused for a split second before nodding back, doesn’t look into Alicent’s direction because this would be too much and she doesn’t trust herself to hide the hurt and the anger, and kisses both of her boys as they come to her.

When they are all seated servants bring out the food and for once there is the soft sound of chatting on the table instead of the uncomfortable silence they are all used to.

“So I gather you all had fun today?” Laenor asks the boys, smiling softly at the way Luke is shoving food in his mouth like he is starving “Slow down, Luke, this goose is not going to run away.”

“Yes!” Jace exclaims after chewing, always the proper boy “That game you gifted us is really fun, and Aemond figured out how that rule we couldn’t understand works! We will show you after dinner, I think you will like it better now, it’s my new favorite!”

“Oh, he did?” Laenor asks and looks at the prince, an eyebrow arched “So we own him a big thanks! We could not figure out the right way of playing the game if our lives depended on it.”

“Oh, it was alright?” Aemond says more like he is asking, eyes wide while looking at Laenor “It was a really fun game, Lord Laenor.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it” Laenor smiles at the boy “Braavos has a great variety of games and even greater variety of ways of playing with them, and if you enjoyed those ask the boys to teach you about Cart Blanc, it’s one of the most popular card games in Driftmark.”

“Oh, you will love it!” Jace agrees, with a smile

“Nooooo, that is so boring.” Luke whines “Don't listen to them, that is the worst game ever, I will teach you about Piquet instead, that it’s absolutely the better game!”

“Don’t listen to him” Jace says to Aemond, rolling his eyes at his brother “He doesn’t like it because he sucks at playing, it’s absolutely the better game.”

“I wouldn’t mind learning both” Aemond suggests with a shrug “I never heard of them, but I know how to play Tricks.”

“We've never played that, have we?” Luke asks turning his attention to his father

“I don’t think I ever taught you that one.” Laenor says sipping his wine “Your grandmother is a professional at it however.”

“Oh you have to teach us then Aemond!” Luke exclaims “And then we will train really hard and next time we visit grandmother we shall challenge her!”

Rhaenyra exchanges a smile with Laenor, squeezing his arm while the boys dive into a very serious talk about the amount of training necessary until one is ready to challenge an elder to a card game, the three of them forgetting about the food on their plates. Her husband’s expression softens at her and he puts a hand over her’s.

It never fails to warm her heart how easy it is to understand and be understood by Laenor with so little, how easily her husband can read the signals and act. They may not always agree with how to do things but at the end of the day they both have the same priorities: the boys currently laughing and the babe already sleeping.

The cheerful atmosphere however does not last for too long.

“So card games are the reason you have skipped your lessons today, Aemond?” Alicent asks, seething her cutlery down “The maester is very worried about your lack of dedication.”

“But it was just one lesson.” The boy says, frowning “And I’m good at Valyrian!

“And that was one too many!” The queen replies sharply, looking at her son

“It was my fault, your grace.” Rhaenyra interrupts, hating the way Aemond looks down at his plate, her own voice just as sharp “I requested his aid with some business of mine and that made him late for his lesson.”

“So the maester told me, but he left with the understanding that he would do his due lessons on his own, not leave to waste his time with games.” Alicent replies, glancing just once towards Rhaenyra, some indescriptible emotion in her eyes, before looking back at her son “I expected better from you Aemond, you know how important your lessons are.”

Rhaenyra looks at her father with pleading eyes. Alicent will not listen to her, but maybe the words from her husband will smooth things over.

“Let the boy be, Alicent” Viserys says taking a sip from his cup “Who in this table has not missed a day of lessons to have harmless fun?”

“I simply do not wish for this to become a habit.” The woman says, lips turned downwards “It’s very easy to give in to temptation when there are no consequences. You are such a bright boy my son, it worries me very much to imagine this potential being wasted.”

“I’m sorry, mother.” Aemond replies looking at the woman and putting one of his hands over her’s “I will refrain from going to the Dragon Pit with my brother and nephews tomorrow, instead I will focus on catching up with my lessons if that would please you.”

Honestly Rhaenyra expects Alicent to deny the boy’s suggestion.

It is obvious even to her who has spend so little of her time with Aemond that the boy loves dragons and everything to do with them, he had shared so much information about them during their talk at the pit that can only be acquired by devote research, and to make him abstain from spending time with them for the sake of lessons of all things is baffling. Aemond is only nine, surely this missed lesson is not so urgent that it cannot be learnt another day.

She would never punish her own children for the crime of wanting to act like children. They will have many responsibilities and duties to attend to, let them enjoy their childhood while they still can.

But Alicent’s expression softens and the woman smiles, squeezing her son’s hand.

“Thank you, my son, that is a very good idea.” She goes as far as kissing his head “I knew you would understand.”

Rhaenyra bites her lips to stop herself from saying something unkind. Laenor, knowing her enough to see her struggle, takes one of her hands into his, caressing it softly under the table.

Aemond smiles back at his mother and she wants to scream at Alicent and ask if she can’t see how fake it is, how it fails to reach his eyes.

“Well it’s not like his presence will make a difference.” Aegon murmurs, loud enough for all to overhear “It’s not like he has a dragon to learn how to take care of.”

What little joy was left into Aemond’s posture is gone with his brother’s words. The silver haired prince just releases his hold into his mother, folding his hands in his lap and after glaring at his brother goes back to staring at his barely touched plate, face a mask of indifference and posture tense.

Her own boys look down as well, maybe aware that this was something they would have laughed at previously, maybe feeling the comeback of the tense atmosphere of dinners past and Rhaenyra looks at her sibling and just shakes his head at him in disapproval, Aegon run his eyes around the table and when no one reacts positively to his words he too duck his head, pushing the food around his plate.

The rest of dinner is a quiet and tense affair and Aemond is the first to excuse himself from the table, Helaena follows right after hurrying to catch up with him and soon enough they all depart to their own chambers.

Rhaenyra visits Jace while Laenor goes to check on Luke as part of their nightly ritual, no matter what companion they will entertain at night both of them always make a point to see their children before their bedtime alternating which of the boys they visit each day to ensure they have the equal amount of attention from both.

She sits on her son’s bed, caressing his dark hair as the boy settles under his covers.

“It did us good.” Jace says leaning into her touch “Talking with Aemond, we had lots of fun.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Rhaenyra smiles “I have a feeling you will be very good friends in no time at all.”

“I hope so too.” Jace confides, a small smile on his face “Are we in trouble for skipping our lessons today?”

“No” Rhaenyra answer without missing a beat “No all lessons are taught by maesters and not everything that matters can be learned with others at all and I believe that what you and Luke learned today was far more important than whatever rule of Valyrian or tidbit of history you skipped on hearing about. But do not make a habit of this, I expect both of you to attend tomorrow's lessons without fault.”

“We will, mother, worry not.” Jace smiles at her

“Do you enjoy your lessons, Jace?” Rhaenyra asks, remembering the maester of early

“Some of them, history is nice but it can get really boring sometimes, why?”

“Curiosity.” She smiles at her oldest, pushing his bangs away from his face “And the maesters, are they good to you and your brother?”

“Maester Chrestan is the nicest, I like him the best, he told us he taught you Valyrian as well! He gives the best lessons and when we master another thing he will always give us candies as a reward.”

A wave of affection releases some of her fears. Maester Chrestan is a old man who already had gray on his head when he taught her in her youth and he had also been one of her favorites, always kind while still holding her to the standards expected of a Targaryen Princess, it’s good to know he is giving her children the same excellent education.

“But…” Jace continues, but then bites his lips, voice trailing

“But?” Rhaenyra asks, trying to hide her worry “Is there someone who has not been good to you?”

“Maester Rylon is always angry with us.” Her son says, looking down “Even when we get something right he says that we have done nothing but our duty and should have tried harder, that we must have the decency to put in the effort considering everything we are. I don’t know what he is talking about mother, I swear to you me and Luke have never disrespected him!”

Anger curses her veins and Rhaenyra takes a deep breath to contain it, forcing herself to keep caressing Jace’s head to not let the boy realize how deeply his words have cut her. Her boys will be followed by whispers their whole lives, she knew it as soon as she saw the color of their hair, but she and Laenor have always done everything in their power to curb the rumors and to punish however decided to be unkind to their children, whispering servants fired or send away, lords with too much bravo swiftly dealt with in manners that let them know nothing good would come from their words, it feels like such a oversee from their part to have never thought about how maesters, Oldtown loyal in most cases, would treat the boys.

“I believe in you, Jace.” She forces herself to say, smile strained “Why have none of you told me of this before?”

“It didn’t feel like a big enough deal.” He explains, still not looking at her “We didn’t want you to think of us as spoiled princelings who could not deal with things without running to you or father.”

“Jacaerys me and your father would never, for any reason, treat any of your concerns in that manner! What has made you believe this?!” Something rotten takes place in her chest “Has someone said this to you?”

“Not on those words.” The boy admits “But Ser Criston made it very clear what he thinks.”

Once more rage threatens to fill her veins, the desire to stake the corridors and find the man she once dared to think as her closest companion and protector and just run his own sword through him is overwhelming.

Rhaenyra is not stupid, she knows that ever since that fateful day at the boat her relationship with the knight was changed in probably a irreparable way, but she had foolishly believed that the man would keep his distaste on her and her alone, to know he has been letting his frustrations on her precious boys is devastating.

“Do not listen to one word that man has to say.” She bites, more anger than she wanted “Anytime someone acts unkindly to you, anytime you are made uncomfortable by someone’s actions or words you should tell me or your father as soon as possible. We are your parents and it’s our most sacred duty to take care of you and nothing pains me more than thinking about you suffering in any way, Jace. You are brave and kind, none of those men have any right to treat you or your brother like this and worry not for I will take care of it.”

“Thank you mom” Jace whispers, burrowing his face on her lap.

They say nothing more, Rhaenyra just keeps holding her son until his breathing evens and even after she is sure he is already sleeping she keeps on holding one of the most precious things of the world as if afraid that the moment she lets go the world will try to hurt him once more.

Her brave boy.

She will make adjustments, will talk with Luke to see if he has any other complaint and it matters not if she has to send away all the maesters of the Red Keep and bring ones she can trust, Rhaenyra will not allow her children to face disrespect inside their own home. And never more will she allow Ser Criston Cole to be their teacher, she cannot trust the man to protect her boys and clearly she cannot trust him to teach them to defend themselves either.

Those are the thoughts running through her head as she finally forces herself to let go of Jace, giving him a forehead kiss and rearranging the blanket over him before leaving, and the walk to her own chambers is a blur.

It’s only when she closes the door behind herself and sees the figure already sitting in an armchair that the tension leaves her shoulders and she dives for a hug that is promptly given as Harwin gets up to meet her halfway.

“What is the matter, love?” He whispers, kissing her head

“I have learned many unsettling things today.” She answers, burrowing her head on his strong chest, not armor clad for once. “Some of them can be fixed easily enough, but others I fear are much more complex.”

“Is there anything I can help you with?” Harwin asks, guiding them until they are seated, her almost on his lap

“I don’t even know.” Rhaenyra huffs, adjusting her position so she is more comfortably sat on him “For I have no idea of what problem I should deal with first or even how I can take care of the most pressing of them all.”

“Perhaps you can share them with me, speaking aloud of them may give you a new clarity.” Harwin proposes, caressing her back

Rhaenyra nods, comforted by the feeling of security she feels only him is able to provide, and begins narrating the things that have transpired on the last days, of her building relationship with her siblings and the worries they have brought to her attention, the implications of how Otto Hightower is still able to manipulate things even so far from the Court, sharing for once the grief at the realization that Alicent truly believes her capable of being a kinslayer and finishing with what she has learned about the treatment their children are receiving.

“How can I have been so blind?” She despairs “For how long have our boys suffered in silence believing the poisonous words of a resentful man? Would they ever bring this to my attention?”

“It’s not your fault, love.” Harwin says fiercely, but his own hands are closed on fists, something dark on his usually laughing eyes “Your only mistake was expecting honor from a man who swore to protect you and your children and that is not a fault of your own, this falls on him and him alone.”

“I just… I knew I could not count on him for my protection, but the boys are innocent. They have nothing to do with what transpired between us and to think he has been targeting our boys just to get to me makes me want to find him and let Syrax have his body for her daily meal.”

“I don’t think Syrax would enjoy being fed such a disgusting meal Nyra.” Her lover laughs lightly “You know better than anyone how particular she is about her meat, I doubt that pig’s body would meet her standards.”

“Perhaps you are right, I should not upset my good girl’s stomach with an unfit meal, but I doubt she would be adverse to setting him on fire and that is another very tempting idea.”

“What about leaving Criston Cole for me to deal with?” Harwin proposes “I shall watch the boys’ training tomorrow to see with my own eyes the way he is treating them and hopefully he has grown too confident and will give me a reason to beat him into a pulp.”

“Don’t!” Rhaenyra exclaims, seized by fear at the same moment, clutching at his arm “Harwin you cannot! Dishonorable pig or not he is still a member of the Kingsguard and Alicent’s protected above it, he has been cleared of all wrong doings after murdering a man during my wedding festivities and I fear that if you do anything, even if justified, the blame shall fall solely into you. The boys need you, Harwin, I need you.”

Rhaenyra cannot bear the idea of losing Harwin.

Not the only person in this whole city besides Laenor she trusts to protect her children no matter what. Not the only person to give her comfort and expect nothing but her company in return. Things with Harwin are simple, he wishes for nothing but her, when they are together she is not the Heir, not a Princess, not even a Targaryen, she is simply Nyra and that is something so precious she is unwilling to lose. In a kind word they wouldn’t need to hide, and she would be able to say with pride how Strong her three boys are.

“Nyra…” He starts, lips in a thin line and she cuts his protests with a finger on his mouth

“No, no.” She shakes her head “You must promise me you will not lay a finger on Criston Cole no matter what the f*cker says or does. We must find another way to keep him away from the boys but I cannot lose you in the process, think of the consequences. Think of how people would look at it! They will see the truth Harwin, they will see the wonderful father you are defending our sons and for the safety of all of us that is not something we can allow ourselves, not now that I know with so much certainty that Otto Hightower is trying so hard to put his blood on the throne.”

He sighs deeply and brings their foreheads together. This must be hard for him, Rhaenyra understands the want to bash the man’s face into the ground, has felt it once when he brought so much pain to Laenor, and feels it even hotter now that she knows the way he is treating their boys, and Harwin has always been a protector, a good man like so few are those days, the desire must burn just as hot inside of him.

His large hand cups her face softly, with such care that she has never dreamed a man so large and strong could posses and he kisses her lips chastly.

“Please.” She allows herself to says, sharing her vulnerability, knowing this is the final blow to him

“I promise Nyra” He says in a whisper, caressing her face “I will not lay a hand on that man.”

“Thank you” Rhaenyra says, putting her hand over his

“I will watch their training tomorrow and if I do see something that makes me want to bash his head in, I shall interfere in a non violent way. And I will find a reason to get them another training instructor, do not worry about that alright?”

“See if you can get my brothers removed from his supervision as well” Rhaenyra asks “I do not doubt his is one of the voices poisoning them against me, and I’m afraid he may see me getting close to them and do something.”

“Of course, I shall see what I can do. Ser Harrold Westerling is an honorable man, I’m sure if we have testimony of the foul treatment of the boys he shall be amenable to switch their instructor without too much trouble to our side.”

“Good, this one issue with a visible solution at least, now I must worry about the situation with the maesters.” She pursues her lips, unwilling to relax just because one of the many problems is on its way to be fixed “For both our boys and my siblings, I didn’t like the way that maester spoke with Aemond today, something is not right there.”

“Do you care if Hightower knows that you are already aware of his scheming?” Harwin asks

“No” She shakes his head “Let him know I will not allow him to do as he pleases, especially not when it comes to my family.”

“Then just demand for the maesters to be changed for ones you know you can trust.” The knight shrugs “You are the Heiress, Nyra, you can order them to do whatever the f*ck you want and no matter how much they protest and fight as long as the King does not back them up there is nothing for them to do.”

“I knew there was a reason I liked you, Ser Harwin.” Rhaenyra smiles, giving him a quick kiss

“And here I was thinking you just wanted a hot body to warm your bed, my princess” He laughs back capturing her lips into a longer kiss

His suggestion is not a bad one truly, not something she has not considered doing. Rhaenyra does not care if Otto Hightower knows that she is aware of his manipulations, in fact someone must already have send him word about her proximity with Helaena and Aemond and the man will probably try to make his own moves, especially if he truly is coming to King’s Landing soon, and honestly there is no point into hiding what she is doing.

Rhaenyra is doing nothing wrong. She is only fixing oversights of the past and doing her father’s wish of mending the broken relationships of their family and refuses to act as if she is the wrong one in this, as if she should be ashamed of her actions.

Finding maesters more loyal to her than to Oldtown will not be exactly a easy task, she will probably have to request some to be relocated from Dragonstone or even from Driftmark, places where she knows Hightower’s influence is much weaker, and surely it will be harder to change her siblings’ maesters than those of her own boys but with the right arguments with her father he will back her up no matter what Alicent may argue.

Rhaenyra does not usually take advantage of the fact that her father will put her wishes above those of his wife but given the things Rhaenyra has learned she cannot bring herself to feel guilty about this now, she cannot be expected to allow her siblings to be alienated and made afraid in their own home.

“I don’t know how to dissipate the fear placed into my siblings’ hearts.” Rhaenyra confesses after a few moments of silence “How to make them believe in my good intentions rather than the fear their mother is planting on their hearts. How can my words compete with hers?”

“I know you, Nyra, I know the goodness in your heart and they will as well. You told me that you have been speaking with the younger ones, so just be you, love, and they shall see the truth.”

“Is that truly going to be enough?”

“I believe so, but perhaps you should bring your concerns to the King?” Harwin suggests, caressing her back

“No, I cannot.” Rhaenyra shakes her head “Alicent is still their mother and I cannot put them into a situation where they will be forced to choose between us, if I talk with my father he will request to know the truth from them otherwise it will be my word against hers, they are just children and this is not a weight I’m willing to force into their shoulders. This is my fight and my burden to carry.”

“Whatever you choose to do, know that you shall have my support.”

“Thank you” She whispers, pulling him to another kiss.

They do nothing extraneous that night, Joffrey has been born not too long ago after all, but Rhaenyra pulls her knight to her bed and they spend the moments before sleep claim them kissing and trading soft touches.

Her bed is empty and cold when she wakes and Rhaenyra allows herself a few moments of grief over it before getting up to start another day.

There is much to be done after all.

Her first order of business is to request a private audience with her father, an invite for them to break their fast together is sent to him by a servant while Rhaenyra readies herself and orders her father’s favorites from the kitchen, willing to pull all the punches to get the necessary result.

She is not surprised when a white cloak knocks on her door and announces her father’s arrival. Rhaenyra just smiles getting up from her chair to kiss his cheeks.

“My daughter.” Viserys smiles, taking her hand into his “No better way to start my day than with you.”

“You flatter me too much, father” She laughs, gesturing to the already full table “Come, let’s eat. Have your new books arrived from Pentos?”

They fall into an easy conversation on her father’s favorite topic: Valyria. He speaks about the rare books he has managed to acquire and of his eternal struggle to find time to dedicate to his reading among the duties of being king and Rhaenyra listens, making comments but letting her father vent. When they are both satisfied and Viserys cleans his mouth, she dares to approach the real reason she requested his presence.

“Are the books written in the common tongue or in Valyrian?”

“In Valyrian, a very outdated version of it as well, they are said to precede the Doom by many summers.” He chuckled, “I shall have to read it with the help of other books to fully grasp the writing.”

“Well, if anyone can make sense of it it would be you, father.” She smiles “My boys’ maester has suggested for them to read some texts in Valyrian to better grasp the manner of writing, perhaps you have some suggestions?”

“Of course! I shall look into my library and find some appropriate books for them, how are their lessons going?”

“Jace is a dedicated learner and can already give Vermax the basic commands, and Luke is still young and doesn’t see the appeal of learning a dead tongue. Besides the reading of texts into Valyrian, their maester has suggested that it would benefit them from learning from other sources as well and so I have something to ask of you.”

“Go ahead” Viserys says, looking attentively at her

“Would it be possible to allow my siblings to take their Valyrian lessons with Jace and Luke? Maester Chrestan was my own teacher and he is doing an amazing job with the boys and I believe that having their uncles and aunt learning with them may give them even more motivation to get better.”

“Ah yes, nothing like a friendly competition to get a boy interested in an otherwise boring lesson.” Her father laughs, eyes soft and melancholic. “That was how my brother got motivated to learn Valyrian as well. Daemon had no interest in learning until we started to have the lessons together and he couldn’t keep up with me. Competitive as he is, he had Valyrian mastered faster than even the maester thought possible.”

The mention of Daemon brings feelings Rhaenyra has spent too much time burrowing deep into her heart to allow herself to feel. The memory of hot lips meeting her own has vivid as they had been in that alley, a challenge to be stolen still burning on the back of her mind (what it, what if he had taken her on it and made her his wife, what if he had stayed, what if her boys had been born with silver hair and purple eyes, what if…), and she swallows, refusing to entertain those fantasies.

“Would that be possible then?” Rhaenyra asks “As soon as possible?”

“Of course, I shall speak with their current maester myself and tomorrow they can start this new arrangement.” Viserys says, smiling at his daughter “It makes me happy to think this may strengthen the bonds between the children, we are family and it’s past the time we act like it.”

“It will, father, I feel in my heart it will” She takes his hands on her’s, pained by how fragile they feel “I have realized my role into the distance of our family and shall work on building bonds with my siblings, we have been distant for too long.”

“This brings even more joy than you can know Rhaenyra.” He squeezes her hands “We have not always seen eye to eye, but know that I’m proud of you, always have been.”

Her eyes fill with involuntary tears and she just squeezes his hands back, smiling softly. Oh her sweet father, such a good soul, too good for the role he has to play, Rhaenyra can’t help but think that he would be much happier without the weight of the crown, without being surrounded by snakes when he is too honorable, too trusting, to see their bared fangs.

“Thank you.” The princess whispers back “I will continue to make you proud then, and shall bring the closeness our family has been lacking for too long.”

Viserys only smiles at her and holds her hands until they have to take their separate ways in the stairs, kissing her forehead like he did when she was so much younger.

They will be fine. Rhaenyra will do anything and everything she must for them to be.

Harwin realizes far too early that keeping his promise to Nyra will be even harder than he originally thought it would be.

Just looking at Criston Cole’s face and remembering the things she said is enough to make his blood boil and the urge to punch him in the face and asks who the f*ck he thinks he is to treat the Heiress to the Iron Throne and her children like that is overwhelming, Harwin is not one for politics, has never taken after his own father and his ability to remain calm and regal in front of veiled insults and power games.

Jacaerys and Lucerys are good boys. Harwin has been allowed to watch as they grown to be dutiful, kind, clever and honorable young lords, always respectful, always doing their best to listen to their instructors and Harwin himself has given them some private lessons before, he knows that they are within the skill range expected from their age.

Nonetheless he approaches the boys’ training with the pretense to look at the weaponry, keeping himself to the sides but with keen eyes on their training. The other knight does not miss his presence, his eyes pausing on him before a smirk makes its way to his face.

Harwin wonders how he never realized how punchable that face is.

The boys are notably on different skill levels, Prince Aegon is their senior and even if the boy is no natural fighter he has them beaten on experience and overall height and weight both, Prince Aemond has the making of a skilled swordsman already, he has all but one name day over Jace but the two are very different, the dark haired boy more easily distracted and unsure of himself, while Luke is still very much a child clearly getting used to the feeling of a weapon on his hands.

Harwin itches to intervene. Luke would do better with some attention, his grip needs correcting and Jace also could do better with someone giving him pointers, helping him with focus would greatly improve his skills. But Criston Cole appears to make a point of barely looking at the two younger boys, giving instructions for them to begin their blows to the targets and then turning all of his attention to the older boys.

Seeing the crestfallen on Luke’s face when he makes a mistake and drops his sword forces his hands to close into fists, imaginating Cole’s neck around them.

Prince Aemond also realizes the peril of the younger boy as he takes a look at Cole, too busy with Prince Aegon, before lowering his own sword and going to Luke’s side, the two are too far for him to make out the words but the silver haired boy picks the fallen sword and adjusts Luke’s grip himself, demonstrating with his own sword the correct way for the blow and Luke copies him, not protestating when the older boy rearranges his grip and apparently orders him to try again.

Jace glances at his brother and when he realizes the other he too approaches, smiles on his face as he claps Prince Aemond in the back and says something that makes the other two laugh. Harwin believes Rhaenyra will be pleased when he tells her of this as the three boy dip their heads together and begin their training side by side, the older prince more often than not stopping his own moves to point something to his nephews.

But it’s not only Harwin who notices the three boys and the frown is visible on Cole’s face when he speaks.

“Prince Aemond!” The boy, in the middle of some explanation to Luke, jumps around to look at the knight who approaches them “Perhaps you should focus more on your training than in babysitting Prince Lucerys?”

“I have finished my sequence.” The boy defends himself “I was just telling Luke how to use his feet to make the move easier.”

“Prince Lucerys is not a baby, I’m sure he is more than capable of understanding the instructions without you doing all the work for him, isn’t so Prince Lucerys?.” His words are harsh and loud enough for all the people around to hear and Luke blushes, ducking his head

“I’m not a baby.” His boy replies, ears red with shame

Harwin grips a wooden sword just to have something to hold and squeeze, imaginating it’s Cole’s neck, anger burning inside his chest.

“See? But come now, if both you and your brother are finished let’s give you another opponent, try to touch me.”

And without another look at the boys the knight turns his back calling for Prince Aegon. Both Jace and Prince Aemond say something to Luke, who is kicking at the ground, before the silver haired prince squeezes his shoulder and approaches his brother to begin the mock fight.

Harwin does not pay attention to Cole, instead he goes towards the boys who are watching as the bastard instructs the older boys, completely forgetting their existence. And all of this with the King watching, what is happening when there is no one to supervise their training? What has been being spoken and done to his boys?

“Weapons up, boys.” He tells them, landing a hand on Luke’s shoulder “You can’t give your opponents an opening like this, any weakness you show is a blow they will attempt to deliver.”

They both look at him and Jace is the first to lift his wooden sword turning to give his younger brother an encouraging look. He gives them both a smile moving closer so that whatever is said to them will be heard by him.

Cole ends the fight with the silver haired princes and even so does not bother to even look towards Nyra’s children and Harwin cannot contain his tongue. He promised not to lay a hand on the man, anything else is fair game.

“The younger boys would do well with some attention as well.” He even tries for a smile, as forced as it feels

“You question my methods of training?”

“On the contrary, I merely believe they should be applied to all of your students. For what I can see there is a disbalance.” Harwin bites out, not looking at Cole as he pretends to rearrange some swords

“Very well.” The white cloak says, voice dripping with venom and he moves to grab at Jace “Here Jacaerys, a duel against Prince Aegon, oldest son against oldest son.”

“That’s not a fair fight.” Harwin bites out, trying to mask the anger in his voice

Jace looks between all the presents with wide eyes, and even Prince Aegon’s smile falters as he stares at Cole. It’s not a matter of skills, Jace could be as skilled as any boy or even better he would still be at disadvantage simply for the fact that his opponent is much older and bigger than him, everyone in this training yard knows this is not a fight, this is an attempt at humiliating Jace.

“In a true battle when we pick our swords, fair fights are not what we find.” The man says, his own anger finding way to his tone

Harwin hates that he does not have the authority to stop this mockery. He is not the boys instructor and Cole’s argument, even if it’s merely a flimsy excuse, is solid enough that trying to change his mind will only be seen with the wrong eyes and cause another wave of whispers.

He can’t do this to Nyra so soon after Joffrey’s birth.

“Can I fight instead?” The voice of prince Aemond cut the tension, the boy stepping forward “Me and Jace are almost the same age, surely that would be a more interesting fight?”

“No.” Cole replies immediately

“Why?” The prince insists “This isn’t a real fight, it’s just training. And even on a real fight surely we should try not to take opponents beyond our skill levels unless necessary.”

“In a real fight you will hardly be able to pick your opponent, my prince.” Cole says, frowning at the boy

“But this is just training. And I’m still better than Jace at the sword anyways, so what’s the difference between me fighting with him or Aegon?”

Cole grits his teeths, annoyance crystal clear on his face but says nothing because there is nothing to be said. The only difference between letting the younger prince fight is that it will be a fair fight, even if he is better than Jace at the sword it will be the only disadvantage for the younger boy, but there is no way of wording that without making it obvious that his intention is.

Harwin smiles at the silver haired prince, who just gives him a look before turning his attention back to Cole. He wonders if the boy understands exactly what he is doing, and decides by the way he is looking at Cole that he probably does.

“Very well, if you insist, my prince.” Cole finally says, displeasure in his tone “Begin.”

As Prince Aemond pointed out he is better at the swords than Jace, his boy puts up a fight of course but he stays on the defensive, hardly able to land a blow of his own and being pushed back until he missteps and falls. Cole does not call for the end of the fight but Prince Aemond does not attack either, so Jace pushes himself up with renewed strength and attacks, finally able to push his opponent back and gain some ground back.

Harwin smiles proudly at the boy and his dedication. He will be a great knight one day, for dedication even in the face of hardness is exactly what will make or break a man.

“Stop going easy on him!” Cole bites out to the older prince as he remains on the defense, brows furrowed, pulling him to say something

Harwin takes the opportunity to pat Jace on the shoulder, whispering his own tips to the boy before clapping him on the shoulder as he takes a defensive posture, sword at ready.

The resume of the fight is a mirror of the beginning, Jace on the defensive and Prince Aemond on the offensive pushing him back with his blows until Jace once more falls.

“Don’t stop!” Cole bites out approaching the boys “Don’t let him get up.”

“But he already lost.” Prince Aemond protests, his wooden sword pointed at Jace’s neck

“Stay on the attack!” Cole ignores close enough to push at the boy’s shoulder forcing his sword to put pressure on Jace’s neck who is breathing heavily wide eyed “In a fight you shall never demonstrate such weakness, finish your opponent!”

“I won! This is over!” The silver haired boy exclaims dropping his training sword

Harwin sees the moment rage takes over Cole. The moment he grabs at the front of Aemond’s training clothes and grabs at Jace’s arm pulling the boy to his feet, his grip tightening on them who stare at the man with equally wide eyes.

“Is this what you will do in a fight? Have pity at your fallen adversary? Wait for him to put a sword to your back?” He shakes both boys, Aemond flinching back as he yells at him “I expected better from you, your brother would never have shown this weakness!”

“Let us go!” Jace bites out, squirming to get free

“Prince Aemond may have taken pity on you Jacaerys but this is not what will happen in the real world! Your lack of skills will get you killed.”

“Enough!”

Harwin can’t stand it anymore pushing himself in the middles and pushing Cole back until he has no other choice but to let go of the boys, Jace falling back to the ground and Aemond staggering a few steps back, Luke runs to help his brother up as Prince Aegon just stares with wide eyes as if he doesn’t know how to react. He pushes the man so hard he falls on his ass, getting up immediately and they both stare at each other with murder on their eyes.

“Is this what you have been teaching them Cole? Cruelty? To attack a weaker opponent?” He squares up, breathing harsh

“Your interest in the training of the prince’s is very uncommon, Commander.” Cole’s lip form into a condescending smile and Harwin knows what is coming “Most men would only show this much devotion towards a cousin, a brother or… a son.”

Harwin wants to bash his head in. Wants to punch the smirk out his face, wants him to choke on his words. His hands close in fists, body tense and ready to pounce, aware that with the element of surprise and his own skills he can absolutely take the pig down.

But Nyra’s voice last night stops him.

He promised her. He swore he would not lay down a hand on this man, promised he would not do anything to make her situation even more difficult.

He promised her.

So he forces his muscles to relax even if he is shaking with rage, breathing loud even in his own ears.

“I swore an oath to protect, Cole, just like you did.” He bites out instead “I simply remember the meaning of the words I spoke. This training is over.”

That is not his call to make but the boys obey as if he is their instructor, Aemond and Luke each holding into one of Jace’s arms even if the boy doesn’t look nearly as injured enough to require the help and they basically run from the yard, Aegon giving the two of them one last look before following his brother and nephews.

Harwin doesn’t look back as he leaves in the opposite direction, let Cole’s extremely punchable face tempt him again. He isn’t strong enough to resist the temptation once more, promise or not.

He will have those boys removed from his care, even if he has to push the man from the highest tower of the Red Keep for that.

Chapter 5

Chapter Text

Rhaenyra really thinks Alicent should be grateful to her. It had not sat right with Rhaenyra the so called compromise the queen had reached with her younger son, the idea of the boy sacrificing his time with dragons for the sake of Valyrian lessons of all things so outrageous that the princess had spent way too much time thinking of ways to make it up to him.

Of course her wish was to actually take the boy and let him enjoy his day, lessons be damned, but she understands there are certain lines she cannot cross so she goes about her day attending to her own duties until the sun starts dipping low and there is no possible way a maester can expect a student to remain focused on their lessons.

She had everything prepared well in advance of course so as soon as she is done with answering yet another missive about some petty problem of even pettier lords a maid arrives announcing that the food and the items she had requested are all done.

“Thank you, I shall set for the Dragon Pit very soon, have everything ready by the doors.” She says, popping her back as the girl bows her head and leaves.

Her first stop is at the nursery where she picks Joffrey who looks at her and gives that happy face only babes can make and she smiles at him, kissing his head and dispensing his wet nurse for now, she had timed everything to make her babe as comfortable as possible and excitement is bubbling inside her chest.

Next she sends a servant to remind Laenor that they are leaving soon and that he should meet them at the gates, her husband eager to join them in their fun and escape what would be probably another dreadful dinner. And at least she makes her way to the room Aemond had taken her the day prior in order to collect him and then search for Helaena.

To her pleasant surprise the girl is inside as well, sitting in an armchair reading a book and sending glances in her brother’s direction. Aemond is sitting in front of a desk, a book open in front of him as he reads a passage out loud to the maester who is standing so close he is all but pressing the boy in, none of them pay attention to her as she stops at the door.

“Again.” The old man orders as soon as Aemond stops

“Why?!” The prince demands turning around with an outraged expression “I didn’t even stumble this time.”

“Too slow” The maester says with a stern expression “Any fluent speaker should be able to read such a short passage in half the time it took you.”

“Can’t we finish tomorrow? I’m tired”

“Absolutely not!” The maester exclaims as if the suggestion is an offense to him “Missing your lessons yesterday was bad enough my prince, I cannot allow you to slack on the days you decide to pay attention. I have been made aware of your actions this morning and I shall not allow you to question me in such an unfit maner.”

Rhaenyra decides she hates this maester in particular. Not just because he is clearly loyal to Otto, but because it irks something deep inside of her to see the way he acts with her brother, as if he has a deep distaste towards the boy and can’t even keep it hidden.

“I didn’t even do anything this morning.” Aemond exclaims, clearly frustrated and starts to push himself away from the desk “I’m not reading this again, we are done.”

“We absolutely are not!” The old man bites out, scandalized and enraged at once

It’s the moment he puts his hands on Aemond’s shoulders, probably to force the boy to remain seated that Rhaenyra clears her throat, glaring daggers at the maester and his audacity to think he has any right to put his hands on a Targaryen prince. The man, who clearly has some audacity, looks up at her but remains with his hands on her brother’s shoulders, blocking him from getting up with his body.

“Sister!” It’s Helaena who breaks the silence, getting up from her spot, her book long abandoned at her side as she too stared at the altercation between the two “To what do we own the pleasure?”

“I was looking for both of you, sweet sister.” Rhaenyra forces herself to smile, even if her gaze is locked on the maester “I was expecting both of you to be freed from your lessons since it’s late already, I have a proposal.”

“I’m done!” The girl says, smiling softly and darts a look at the maester “I was waiting for Aemond, I have a new butterfly to show him.”

“Oh, is he not done yet?” Rhaenyra says, fake even to her own ears as she advances into the room, the question clearly directed at the maester “Then I shall wait with you, sister.”

And she waits for no answer before sitting and patting the spot at her side for Helaena to join her, Joffrey stirring in her arms automatically reaching his small hands to the younger princess as she sits and looks at him with curious eyes. Rhaenyra spares a moment to smile softly at his sister and nod in permission to her unspoken question as the girl gives one of her fingers for the baby to hold, but then she looks back at the maester, expression hardening once more.

Her presence clearly dissolves any bravado the man possesses as he takes his hands back as if burned, crossing them behind his back and cleaning his throat before speaking.

“Since your lady sister requests your presence, I think it’s prudent for us to finish our lessons for today, my prince.”

“Thank fu… The seven, thank the Seven.” Aemond says, correcting himself when the maester turns a sharp glare in his direction, Rhaenyra’s lips twitching with mirth

The maester leaves without even gathering the books, giving them a last bow before scurrying like a rat much to the princess' satisfaction. When the door closes after him Aemond gets up, a bright smile towards his sister.

“Thank you, sister! I was thinking he would keep me here until after night has fallen.” He moves to sit at her free side, smiling at Joffrey “Hi little nephew, you aren’t sleepy today, are you?”

“No, he woke up from his nap to feed and then I took him, he is full of energy aren’t you my sweet boy?” Rhaenyra says cooing at the baby who is far more interested in playing with a delighted Helaena’s fingers

Her sweet sister looks more comfortable today, she is almost touching Rhaenyra as she leans to peer at Joffrey, clearly not minding the way the babe is toying with her hand, even when he pulls her fingers to his mouth she just lets out a pearl of laughter.

“He is so tiny!” Helaena exclaims smiling, even as he drools on her fingers

“You were even smaller when you were born.” Rhaenyra says, remembering the few glimpses she was allowed to have at her sister when she was born, stolen moments when Viserys had gone to present the little princess to another nobleman “And look at you now!”

“What proposal do you have for us?” Aemond asks, violet eyes full of curiosity

“A picnic!” Rhaenyra says, smiling brightly “I have all prepared already, we just need to get going so we can meet with my sons and your brother. The night promises to be beautiful and the weather is too nice for us to waste an opportunity to eat outside these walls, would you two like to join?”

She knew they would accept but it still makes a weight leave her shoulders when they both nod with enthusiasm.

“Then we shall go now.”

Ser Harrold and Ser Erryk (And yes, she had needed to ask him, as she could not tell him and his brother apart no matter how hard she tries) are waiting for them outside the room, ready to act as their personal guards. Rhaenyra follows calmly while listening as the children talk in excited whispers about the experience and she wonders, with some grief, if this is the first time they will be having such a simple experience.

Laenor is already waiting for them in the training yard, leaning against a wall and watching the guards training, and he opens a bright smile when he notices their approach.

“Princess Helaena, prince Aemond, glad you two could join us.”

“Thank you for the invite.” Helaena says, looking down with a shy smile “Will there be lemon cakes?”

“As much as your heart desires, princess.” Laenor says with a chuckle “And the best part is that you don’t even need to eat all your vegetables before eating them.”

Helaena just beams delightedly and even Aemond perks up at the idea of eating sweets before the proper food which makes Rhaenyra give her husband an exasperated look to which he answers with a large smile.

Rhaenyra cannot stop her gaze from wandering the yard, looking for a familiar gold cloak and is not disappointed when she spots him on the other side cleaning his sword and as if he can feel her gaze he raises his head, smiling at her with that warmth that makes it impossible to not smile back. At her side Laenor is locking eyes with his own knight, probably sharing the same silent conversation as her.

“My princess, Ser Laenor” Ser Harrold starts bringing them both back to their present company, looking at both of them with calculating eyes “Would it not be prudent to take some extra protection? The Dragon Pit is a very secure location but with so many children with us it’s better to be overprepared.”

“If you think so Ser Harrold so it be, shall we call for another white cloak or some member of the city watch?” Laenor asks nodding at the man

“Actually, my Lord, as Ser Harwin and Ser Qarl are already here I think bringing them both would suffice, we shall depart soon if we expect to meet with the young princes before they depart back to the castle.”

Both Rhaenyra and Laenor just stare at each other, both of their eyes wide with shock as the older knight does not wait for their approval and just walks in the direction of the two men, exchanging brief words with both who spot equal looks of confusion and bewilderment but follow the Lord Commander.

“Shall we go?” Ser Harrold asks when they rejoin the royals, expression neutral and respectful as always

“What… I mean, yes, of course, let’s go.” Laenor says, cleaning his throat still looking between the Lord Commander and Qarl

Rhaenyra for her part just stares between the older knight and Harwin with furrowed brows, but the man just starts walking as if he did nothing out of the ordinary, and Harwin looks just as baffled as Rhaenyra.

Surely this is only a coincidence? There can be no other explanation, Rhaenyra says to herself resuming her walk as well, the Lord Commander simply picked the two closest capable fighters who just happened to be those particular knights. Just one of those weird coincidences brought by fate.

(As Ser Harrold walks in front of them none of them are able to see the small smile playing on his lips, mirth at their reaction barely hidden, some fondness for those youths he had seen grow up visible on his eyes. Princess Rhaenyra had told him that she wished for a picnic for her family, Ser Harrold is just doing his duty and following his princess’ orders.)

They hurry to the Dragon Pit to not risk missing the three princes, Rhaenyra had wanted this to be a surprise for them and as such had timed everything so that she could surprise them at the end of their lessons with the dragon keepers. And when they arrive they can see Luke and Aegon play fighting, the older prince crackling as he runs from his nephew who is trying to tackle him to the ground, Jace is just staring at them with an expression of sorrow only a boy embarrassed by his kin can produce.

“Are we interrupting something?” Rhaenyra calls out when they get close enough

“Mother!” Jace exclaims, face brightening as he turns to them “Father!”

Luke takes advantage of the fact that Aegon got distracted looking at them to finally tackle his uncle to the ground with a battle cry, the older prince failing with an undignified scream that sends his siblings into a fit of laughter and has the adults fighting to contain their own mirth.

“Get off me you little monster.” Aegon says with no real heat to his words, poking at Luke who has him into what Rhaenyra fondly calls an octopus hug.

“Not until you admit I’m right!” Her son exclaims, still stubbornly clinging to his uncle

“No way in the seven hells!” The prince exclaims back squirming “Jace, a little help here?”

But her oldest son just gives a long look at the two and turns his back to them, practically running to his parents side, excitement clear on his face.

“What are you guys doing here?” And then his eyes land on Aemond and Helaena and his smile gets even bigger “Aemond! Helaena! Everyone is here!”

“That’s the point” Rhaenyra says, pushing his bangs away from his face, smile matching his “We are having a family picnic in place of dinner, what do you say?”

“Yes! Absolutely eyes!”

Behind them Aegon and Luke are still wrestling on the floor, it’s obvious to them all that the older boy could easily get himself out of this situation but either he is enjoying it or he truly does not realize Luke is half his size and he can easily push the boy off himself if he tries hard enough. Aemond facepalms, muttering something probably not very flattering about his brother, and Helaena, sweet soul she is, looks almost worried about them. Laenor, Harwin and Qarl are too busy failing to hide their own laughter at the scene to be of much help so Rhaenyra sighs and after passing Joffrey to Laenor’s arms approaches the two boys, pulling Luke by his shirt.

“And what is the reason for this vicious fight?” She asks, trying and failing to not sound amused

“Aegon said that Sunfyre is the prettiest dragon in the world!” Luke exclaims full of righteous indignation “Mother, tell him that he is wrong! Arrax is totally the prettiest”

“Well, you are right that Aegon mispokes when he says that Sunfyre is the prettiest.” Rhaenyra starts and almost breaks into laughter when Luke puffs his chest and Aegon stares at her with an offended look “Obviously that title belongs to Syrax.”

Luke’s satisfaction dies as quick as it came and both boys look at her with twin looks of betrayal and disbelief. She chuckles, offering Aegon, who is still laying on his back on the floor, a hand to help him get up and the boy hesitates for a few moments before accepting her help, eyes lingering on her hand even as she lets go of him when he is off the floor.

Rhaenyra wonders, with a pang in her heart, what poisons they have been feeding this boy before he was old enough to even understand exactly what a claim to the throne even is. Of all her siblings she is afraid that Aegon has been the victim of most damage simply for being the oldest and the one they will undoubtedly try to push to the throne.

She wonders, saddened, if he wishes for the throne.

“Would you like to join us for a picnic, Aegon?” She says instead, smiling as softly as she can, “I have realized I have been truly relapse in my duties as an older sister and it would please me very much if you could join us so that we can know each other better. Aemond and Helaena have already agreed.”

“My mother expects me back at the Red Keep.” He says but his eyes are looking at his siblings who are too busy with Jace rummaging the contents of the baskets of food

“A servant will inform the king of our whereabouts and the reason we will not be joining dinner today, surely that will bring peace to your mother’s heart as well.” She coerces “We have lemon cake.”

“And sweet wine?” He asks

“And sweet wine.” She agrees with a smile

“If my mother will know where I am, then I think I can join.” He nods solemnly, all young bravado even if there is visible eagerness on his eyes

“Good, come then, if we take too long I’m afraid we will be left without anything to eat.” She says and boldly interlaces their arms

Just like Aemond, first the boys stiffens at the contact, body tense and his eyes are wide and unsure as they stare at her but Rhaenyra pretends not to see it, gently guiding him towards the others and soon enough the boy melts into her touch, relaxing so much that their shoulders bump together as they move.

The adults have already arranged blankets for them to sit and display the food around as well and Aegon quickens their steps when he realizes that Rhaenyra had requested all sorts of delicacies that they would never be allowed to have in place of dinner. Helaena and Luke are already attacking the lemon cakes, crumbles sticking to their mouths, while Jace and Aemond busy themselves with filling their breads with the wide selection of things disponible, Laenor had poured juice for them and pushed cups of sweet wine into both Qarl’s and Harwin’s hands even if Rhaenyra can hear their protests.

She sends words for their dragons to be released and soon enough to the children’s absolute joy their dragons take to the sky, flying over their heads lost in their own dance.

Laenor is waiting with a cup for her as she finally sits beside him, watching with fondness as Qarl holds young Joffrey so that Helaena, who looks fascinated with the baby, can hold his little hands in an imitation of a dance.

“They look like they are having fun.” He remarks tilting his head to where the children are stuffing their faces with abandon, while Harwin is gesturing apparently in the middle of a story that got their complete attention

“They really do.” She smiles, sipping from her cup “I was afraid Aegon would refuse the invite, it’s not as if there is any closeness between us.”

“He looks very fond of our boys, whatever is worrying you I’m sure can be fixed with time. I have never met a single person you couldn’t charm.” Laenor says kindly

“This may prove more complicated than simply charming some old noble.” She says with a sigh

“And yet I have total faith that you will get to whatever result your heart desires. I have never met anyone more stubborn either.”

“Have you not met your son Lucerys then?” She asks laughing

“And from whom he has inherited that, dear wife?”

“You, of course!”

Laenor throws his head back laughing, all the tension that usually rests on his shoulders when they are inside the Red Keep melting leaving behind the mirth and easy going nature of the young man she first married and his relaxation works on her as well. It’s hard to remain tense when in this moment everything feels so right, when she can see her family acting like a family with no shadows looming over them, just children laughing and playing like children.

Rhaenyra would give anything and everything to remain in this moment forever.

Harwin finishes his story with a trust of a imaginary sword and the boys cheer on, Luke immediately clinging to his arm and demanding another one as Aemond and Jace both nod behind him, Aegon is just drinking from his cup but his eyes are also fixed on Harwin who smiles and relents starting another tale.

At some point when the story is over the kids begin a game of tag and their laughter rings louder as Helaena, surprisingly fast even in her dress, trackles Aemond to the ground with a vicious grin. Aegon, at that weird age where he is not yet a man grown but still thinks himself too mature to join in the game of children, distances himself to where his dragon has landed, Sunfyre just raising his head to greet his rider as the boy pets his snout.

Rhaenyra knows an opportunity when she sees it.

She gives her cup to Laenor before rising and walking in his direction, steps purposely loud so as to not startle him but Aegon just gives her a look before focusing his attention back on his dragon.

“He’s beautiful.” Rhaenyra says stopping at a respectful distance from the dragon

“He is.” Aegon can’t help but smile at the praise, caressing Sunfyre who preens “But very spoiled as well.”

“He and Syrax are one of a kind then.” She chuckles “My girl will only eat skinned goat meat, any attempt to feed her live prey and she will try to torch the keepers.”

“I think your Syrax has Sunfyre beaten then.” Her brother laughs

“Just give him a few years, they grow more spoiled with time I tell you.” Rhaenyra lets her smile drop as she approaches Aegon and puts a hand on his shoulder “I have no intention of ever causing you or your siblings harm for the sake of my claim to the throne Aegon, I never had and I never will.”

Rhaenyra goes straight to the point and feels as the boy tenses, wiping his head to look at her with wide eyes. There is no point in dancing around the subject, no point in trying to gain his trust the normal way when she is aware of the root of their problems, when she was made aware of the fears put into his heart.

Aegon is the first born son of the king. There will always be people who think that as such he is the rightful heir, who will whisper and push and maybe even rebel in his name, there will always be a dark cloud over their heads especially when his own family are the ones pushing for that scenario, it would be ridiculous of her to ignore that fact, to pretend this is not something they will need to deal with.

The sooner he understands that Rhaenyra has never thought of the possibility of causing him harm, the sooner they can actually start having a relationship.

Helaena had begged her to save her brothers, had pleaded that Aegon has not drunk the green poison and Rhaenyra has faith that the girl means that her brother wishes to fight her for the throne as little as she wants to fight him.

“I don’t want it.” He whispers, voice breaking as his eyes lock into her’s, wide and scared and oh so very young “I swear to you sister, I swear on the gods, I swear on my life, I swear on everything you wish for, that I don’t want to have a claim, I don’t want the throne. Please.”

Rhaenyra will feed Otto Hightower to Syrax.

She cares not of the repercussions, the second she has a chance of taking the man’s life she will not hesitate. She will kill him because how dare he bring this type of pain to her brother, how dare he cause Aegon to look at his own sister with such fear, how dare he and Alicent make this boy think he has to plead for her mercy, has to swear he is no danger.

How dare they make him think that Rhaenyra values a throne more than her own family.

How afraid those children must be all the time, she despairs with a heavy heart, how much weight they must carry in their hearts as they watch father’s health decline while convinced that his death will signal a fight for their survival. What a heavy burden to grow under.

Rhaenyra does not hesitate to pull Aegon for a hug, one of her hands cradling his head and the other caressing his back. The boy melts on her arms, his hands clutching the back of her dress and there is a faint shaking on his shoulders.

“It’s alright, sweet brother, it’s alright.” She whispers in his ear “You are safe, Aegon, you will always be safe with me. You and your siblings are blood of my blood, and I regret bitterly that I have not acted like a sister should and if you give me the chance I shall make it up to you. You will never have anything to fear from me, I swear it.”

Aegon just nods, his grip tightening on her body and she hugs him tighter as well, her own eyes filling with tears of both relief and pain. Relief because this was so much easier than she expected and pain for the exact same reason, for the fact that this boy was just itching for the opportunity to confess his worries and fears, was so ready to crumble.

Rhaenyra wonders how Alicent has been raising those children if they are all so clearly starving for affection, how much she has been denying to them for the sake of feeding the flames of fear and distrust, saddened that even the very minimum of kindness from her side is enough to knock down all of their defenses.

They are just children. Lonely, scared children and if no one is going to soothe their fears and provide them the softness all children need, then Rhaenyra shall take that role herself.

She moves back just a little, enough so she is able to hold his face between her hands, wiping a lone tear in the process and smiling, softly and sadly at the same time.

“Let’s go join the others, little brother.”

He surprises her, and Rhaenyra has to bite her lip to stop a tear of her own, by holding her hand as they walk the short distance back to where the others wait, it’s Laenor who notices their approach and there is definitely a smug hint to his smile as he notices their hands but Rhaenyra will allow him this victory. The other children are too busy listening to Ser Erryk as the knights tell them some tale of the times before the Conqueror, changing his voice as he switches the characters much to the delight of his audience, even Harwin, now holding Joffrey, and Qarl are paying attention.

Rhaenyra doesn’t really pay attention to the tale, too busy staring at her children and the peaceful air of them, the unbidden joy in their faces, trying to mark that in her brain forever. Aegon sits beside her, head resting against her shoulder and Rhaenyra is more than happy to provide him with whatever affection he may crave.

Later, when the sun is practically all gone and the sky already shows the first signals of the stars, Luke approaches her with the big eyes he only employs when he has something to ask of her.

“Mom” Her middle son begins, face serious as if asking a vital question “Which dragon is the fastest?”

Rhaenyra knows where this is going, but she humors him.

“In existence? Probably your grandmother’s Meleys. But here in the Dragon Pit, it’s obviously Syrax.”

“Ha!” Laenor barks a laugh, eyes full of mischief “As if your spoiled princess could ever beat Seasmoke! Don’t listen to your mother in this matter, Luke, she is too biased.”

“Oh, please.” Rhaenyra scoffs “Who exactly arrived at Driftmark first last time we visited?”

“Only because I took a detour to make some acrobacies close to the sea.” Her husband says without missing a beat “If that was a race, Syrax wouldn’t even see Seasmoke’s tail.”

“I bet Sunfyre is faster.” Aegon interrupts, lips curled into a smile “He is younger after all.”

“Nonsense, Seasmoke’s experience triumphs over youth any time.”

“Excuse me? If we are talking about experience then Syrax beats you both, may I remind you that we took to the skies when I was only seven?”

“Dreamfyre is older.” Helaena hums, without looking away from the spider she has found “She wins.”

“The only way to know for certain is with a race.” Luke takes his opportunity with a toothy smile “Right?”

“I think you are absolutely right Luke.” Laenor says, getting up and dusting inexistence dust from his clothes “Unless your mother, aunt and uncle are ready to admit defeat?”

“Never!” Aegon says, jumping to his feet as well, excitement shining on his eyes

“I suppose I could take a moment to prove Syrax’s superiority” Rhaenyra says with a smile of her own

Helaena just nods once, looking excited, and Jace and Aemond, who until then had made a valiant effort to not look like they are listening, grin at Luke like the boy just won a duel. Oh the subtlety of youth.

But Rhaenyra hesitates for a moment, an idea forming as she stares at the three younger boys, Vermax and Arrax still too small for the boys to fly and Aemond without a dragon, and decides they too deserve to partake in their fun. But it’s Aegon who makes the suggestion first.

“Sunfyre is big enough for me to take Luke with me.” The boy offers, looking between Laenor and Rhaenyra “The idea of the race was his.”

“Really?” The boy screeches, already bouncing to clasp at Rhaenyra’s hand “Can I, mom? Can I?”

“I will be very careful.” Aegon agrees, exchanging conspiratory looks with his young nephew

“I suppose there is no harm.” She agrees, unable to resist the power of those begging eyes even if she had any intention to try

“Then I shall go with father!” Jace exclaims, already bouncing to hold Laenor’s hand “And we will show how it’s done.”

“That’s the spirit!” Laenor says, pulling Jace to hold him by the shoulders

Rhaenyra shakes her head in amusem*nt and looks at the side to see Aemond lowering his head, hunched shoulders and face closed off. Oh her sweet brother, her heart aches for him and what he must be thinking, the way he has accepted that he shall be left behind is clear when he takes a few steps back, all previous excitement gone.

As if Rhaenyra will allow him to be so crudely left behind.

“Then I shall take Aemond with me.” She says, smiling at the boy “And we will show all of you what speed truly is.”

The way her brother’s head snaps back to stare at her would be amusing had it not been the pure look of disbelief in his eyes, the way his mouth falls slightly open in shock.

“Really?” He asks, barely louder than a whisper “I can?”

“Of course.” Rhaenyra says kindly “It will be my pleasure to have you riding with me.”

He beams so brightly at her that Rhaenyra’s heart absolutely melts on the spot, his joy absolutely infectious.

“Dreamfyre is also big enough for two riders.” Helaena offers and there is mischief hidden in her eyes and in her smile “Perhaps Ser Harrold would like to join me?”

The older knight, who was watching them with a bemused expression while eating a lemon cake that Helaena had practically forced him to accept, almost spits out his early bite, eyes as wide as plate as he stares at them. He coughs twice before scolding his expression in something very proper.

“I think I’m far too old for those adventures, my princess. Ser Harwin and Ser Qarl are both younger, perhaps one of them would be interested in joining.”

Both men, who until then spotted amused smiles of their own, look at the Lord Commander at the same time, twin looks of alarm and betrayal as if the man had just offered to push them off a cliff. And Ser Qarl even takes a small step back, looking between all the Targaryens as if expecting one of them to offer a protest.

“Oh, what a lovely suggestion.” Laenor’s smile doesn’t even try to hide his mirth “If both of you are eager, we may take turns!”

“I’m holding Joffrey” Harwin says, lifting the baby as if to prove his words, his eyes wide

“I shall stay and protect them” Qarl sees an out, nodding emphatically “He can’t fight in case of danger while holding the babe.”

The Targaryens only laugh, Rhaenyra taking pity on the knights and ushering the children to call for the dragon keepers so they may prepare the extra saddles for their ride.

Night has already fallen when they take to the sky as one. Aemond clings to her body with shaking hands and when she orders Syrax to gain speed he lets out a scream of joy that makes her own lips curl into a smile, oddly proud of the fact that she is the one presenting the joy of flying to her younger brother.

Seasmoke wins the three races, as Rhaenyra internally expected him to, even if all the others put up a good fight and she knows Laenor will be insufferable about it for weeks to come.

When they go back to the ground, to the applause of the knights waiting for them, all the children are so tired it’s not hard to convince them to go back to the Red Keep, all of them yawning and rubbing their eyes.

Aemond sticks to her side on the way and his small hand takes hold of her’s, Rhaenyra risks a glance in his direction but the boy is not looking at her, the tip of his ears are red and she says nothing, just adjusts the grip, caressing the back of his hand with her thumb.

They leave each child in their proper chamber of course, it’s late and you never know what danger waits in the shadows, Laenor and Harwin going to put their boys to bed and Rhaenyra and Ser Harrold going with her siblings.

Helaena is first and Rhaenyra smiles at the girl, her sister does not touch her but she beams brightly when they say their goodbyes.

“Thank you for today, sister. It was delightful!”

“Thank you for your presence, sister, it would not have been so delightful without your presence.” She smiles back, waving goodbye with the hand Aemond is not holding

Aegon says nothing when they arrive at his chambers, he looks dead on his feet, but he throws his arms around her in a hug that Rhaenyra reciprocates with no hesitation, placing a kiss on his head for good measure.

She leaves Aemond for last, comfortable in walking in silence with him and entering his chambers with no protest from the boy who just looks at her with curious and trusting eyes, it’s him who breaks the silence.

“Thank you.” He says, looking at their hands, voice breaking with emotion “For taking me with you on Syrax”

“You don’t have to thank me.” She says smiling at him “I take that you liked it?”

“Do you truly believe that I will have a dragon someday?” He asks instead, looking at the ground

“Of course!” Rhaenyra exclaims, putting a hand under his chin to make him stare at her “I believe your time will come, sweet brother, but not having a dragon doesn’t mean anything, doesn’t make you any less than your siblings or your nephews, you are a Targaryen prince, the blood of Old Valyria and no one and nothing can take that away from you.”

Aemond says nothing but he throws his arms around her in a bone crushing hug and Rhaenyra just hugs him back, heart aching when she feels tears damp her dress. How she wishes she could erase this pain from his heart, could give him the dragon he so desperately wishes for, how cruel of the gods to give a type of suffering to a child that cannot be fixed by the people who love them.

She holds him for a long time, content on saying nothing and doing nothing but hold him as he lets go of his emotions and it’s only when he pulls himself back, eyes puffy and red rimmed, that she let’s go, wordlessly guiding him to bed, day clothes and all, tucking him like she would do to any of her children.

“Goodnight sweet brother” She whispers kissing him on the head

“Goodnight sister” He whispers back, already closing his eyes

Rhaenyra waits until his breathing evens and his face grows lax with sleep to leave his chambers, even still lingering on his door to watch him for a few moments. She goes to her own sons chambers as well, both of them fast asleep, and kisses them in the head as well before finally going to her own chambers, suddenly feeling the weight of the busy day.

She falls asleep with a smile on her face. For once things are looking up.

But peace can never last long. Tragedy is always waiting just around the corner.

Rhaenyra arrives at her chambers some days later after spending some time with Helaena and her bugs to find Laenor sitting on the floor in front of an unlit hearth staring at nothing. Her good mood sours instantly and she rushes to his side, dropping to her knees, the unusual behavior causing instantaneous alert.

“Laenor? What is the matter?”

But her husband says nothing and now that they are close she can see the silent tears falling from his eyes, the way his whole body is shaking minimally as if he cannot express the amount of sorrow inside his body. Dread pools on her guts, anxiety bubbling in her veins.

“You are scaring me, Laenor, please what is wrong?”

He says nothing once more, not even reacting when she puts a hand on his shoulder, but before she can try to speak once more her eyes land on an open letter laying on the floor close to them. Her own hands are shaking as she picks it up.

Rhaenyra sucks a breath, and doesn't read further than the first few lines before dropping the letter and throwing her arms around Laenor and pulling him against her.

Laena Velaryon is dead.

At the entrance of the Red Keep Alicent and her children are lined up, all of them filled with dread, even if none of them allow it to show on their faces.

In front of them Otto Hightower lets a squire take his horse away.

Chapter 6

Chapter Text

Laenor flies for Driftmark as soon as he regains his strength.

Rhaenyra watches Seasmoke disappear in the sky with tears falling from her own eyes, heart constricted with worry. She had begged him to wait and when it became obvious that he would never settle for a boat ride, she had tried to get him to at least wait until dawn but he had acted as if he couldn’t even hear her, her pleas falling into deaf ears.

Her wish is to go with him, to take Syrax and leave for Driftmark because the devastation she saw in his eyes was soul crushing, if she thought he looked destroyed on the wake of Ser Joffrey’s death, that was nothing compared to the empty void of his eyes after learning the news of his sister, she worries the fly will be too much, that something will happen before he can even arrive. But duty and family bound her to a boat ride, her boys are too young to fly of course and she cannot in good conscience leave them to make the journey by themselves, this will be their first time dealing with death, even if they are not close to their Aunt Laena they had heard plenty of histories of her and exchanged letters as well, besides watching Laenor grief for her will be a staggering thing.

Rhaenyra still remembers vividly how she felt when she lost Baelor. A brother she never even see while alive, and yet whose death left a hole inside her chest, an emptiness whenever she thought about the empty crib her mother had so carefully chosen for him, about all the little clothing he would never get the chance to use, about the egg she had chosen for him and who to this day remains in the Dragon Pit.

She cannot even phantom how it feels for Laenor who had the time to know and love his sister, and love her dearly he did, for Rhaenyra watched enough of their interactions to see it plain as day.

Her heart aches for the two little girls.

For worse than the emptiness of losing a brother was the devastation of losing a mother. For weeks afterwards she still woke up in the mornings expecting to break her fast with her mother only to be reminded that there was no mother anymore, that she was gone, gone for the sake of an heir who lived for less than a day, gone for the son her father had so desperately wished for. Losing her mother left her adrift, and that is a pain those girls will feel forever.

There is no shortage of moments that Rhaenyra wished for her mother’s warm embrace, for her advice or even just for her presence. She had wished for her during her marriage, during her pregnancy and especially during the birth, had wished and cried over the fact that her mother will never meet her sons.

Someone needs to be the pillar for them and Rhaenyra cannot in good conscience expect that from the Velaryons, not when all of them are suffering just as much as the girls, for just the idea of losing her boys is enough to send her into panic and she cannot phantom the pain Rhaenys and Corlys Velaryon are feeling at this moment.

They are her family too, she and Laenor do not have the usual relationship between husband and wife but there is love between them nonetheless and it’s no burden for her to do everything in her power to support them in their time of need.

There is not much she can do before arriving in Driftmark however, all she can do from King’s Landing is send orders for everything to be ready for their departure as soon as possible so that they arrive around the same time as her body if not earlier. The days leading to the funeral are the worst in her experience, everything in a limbo of pain and grief and disbelief, it was only after the pyre that Rhaenyra could feel herself trying to regain her footing, there was a finality in watching the bodies burn, a deep seated resignation that that was real, that her mother and newborn brother are dead and she must now learn to live in a world without them.

Long after Seasmoke and his rider have disappeared into the night Rhaenyra wipes away her tears and makes a silent walk back to her chambers without stopping even as many lingering nobleman try to stop her, either to ask for details or to offer their condolences she does not care, this is not a moment she wishes to put a performance for them.

Relief floods every vein of her body when she finds Harwin already waiting for her and she allows him to pull her to a hug.

“I’m sorry Nyra.” He whispers in her ear “ How are you? How is Laenor?”

"He is devastated." She answers, closing her eyes “Could barely say a word to me, he has taken Seasmoke to join his parents at Driftmark, I’m worried he will be too focused on pain to make a safe journey. I’m… Dealing, I suppose, Laena was very dear to me and I cannot stop thinking about her poor girls.”

“Laenor is a seasoned warrior, love.” He says kindly “And his dragon is one as well, if he was able to carry Laenor safely during a war he will be able to take him back home in one piece. And soon the girls will be among family who will be able to provide them all the support they need.”

“I hope so, the pain of this loss is devastating.” Rhaenyra sighs “How cruel of the gods to bring us such a tragedy when I was finally believing things would be alright.”

Harwin says nothing, just guides her to sit and press a warm cup of tea into her hands, before sitting at her side and Rhaenyra takes his silent comfort leaning against him and closing her eyes while sipping for her tea, more exhausted than she expected.

“Do you want me to go, so you can have an early night?” Harwin asks, one hand playing with her hair

“No.” She shakes her head immediately “I don’t want to be alone right now… This is nice.”

“Anything you need, my love.” He whispers kissing her head

Outside the night sky is dark, devoid of any stars and a part of Rhaenyra cannot help but think it’s a pressage.

Her shoulders hurt.

Alicent now realizes how tense she has been the whole day by the pain on her shoulders from forcing them to remain in a mask of easiness. There were not many chances of spending time alone with her father since his arrival early today, the king requesting his presence as soon as he arrived and spending much of the day catching up and then after the news of Lady Laena’s death requesting his help with planning the trip to Driftmark to attend the funeral, inviting him to join them.

But Alicent could feel the way his eyes would always long on her, the disapproving line in his mouth present even as he curled his lips into a smile.

More than once she had to stop herself from abusing her nail beds, itching for the comfort of a habit she had fought so hard to abandon when taking the position of Queen, reminded multiple times by her father that she could not allow herself to indulge in those weakness of youth, that she must be the Queen he made her be.

But now they are finally alone for dinner, and she has forgotten how heavy this silence is, how it oppresses her and makes her hunger disappear. Her children are just as silent and tense as herself, Helaena refusing eye contact and Aegon indulging in wine as he is prone to do.

She silently despairs because do they never learn?

Do they not know how their grandfather reacts to their misgivings? Helaena should know by now how to behave like a lady, should know that while Alicent will indulge her in her nasty habit of collecting bugs others will not be so kind, that she must do her duty, must speak the pleasantries expected from her. She may be Otto’s favorite but Alicent knows that it just means he will want the best for her, will mean he will push her to be the best version she can be and fears that her meek daughter will not be able to handle it.

And Aegon, oh Aegon. Alicent doesn’t know where she went wrong with him, despairs for the fact that her father was forced out of his position because of Rhaenyra as as such he had not had the chance to help her raise her oldest son. She didn’t know what to do with him, was too lax, allowed him too much freedom and now she is reaping the bitter results of that in a son who is unable to understand the danger lurking around every corner, unable to see his sister as the dragon ready to devour him whole.

Her hands close into trembling fists in her laps, unable to even pretend to eat anymore, and just as quickly there is a small hand resting on top of her’s stopping her from picking at her nails, she looks at Aemond with what she hopes is a encouraging smile, her brave boy smiling back and caressing her hands with his thumb.

Of all her children Aemond is the one she likes to believe she raised right. He is dutiful, quiet, studious and above all loyal, he understands his responsibilities and the ones from his siblings and holds them to the stardarts they need to be held at, knows her moods just from looking at her, able to gather when she needs his comforting presence and his easy silences. She usually does not need to chide him for engaging on the childish manners of his siblings like running around the halls or skipping his lessons, he never demands for anything what is a balm to her soul after so many hours of her day are spent attending to the whims of men, from the king, from the duties expected of her as the queen, Aemond is the only in a sea of people who gives rather than take from her and Alicent will forever be grateful for the relief she gets on his company, finally able to talk without measuring her words because her clever boy knows how to listen, knows how to keep secrets.

If only she could have raised Aegon to be at least half as dedicated as Aemond, if only her first born could understand that their grandfather only wants what’s best for them, wants to keep them alive, and just accepts his advice and his punishments as well as Aemond, who understands that Otto’s actions are for his own good, for the good of them all.

And that is why she is so worried about the fact that in the last few days he has been acting so out of character.

Skipping his lessons, talking back at Ser Criston, running off to play with the strong bastards, ditching their family dinner to spend time with Rhaenyra of all people.

Fear grips her heart in a tight vice.

What is Rhaenyra plotting? Why the sudden interest in her children? She never spared them a glace before, so why she is now so devote to spending time with them, robbing Alicent of their company when they are the only thing that can calm her mind after the grueling hours spent exchanging pleasantries with lords and ladies of the realm, putting on a smile and following the path expected from her.

They are her children and she will not allow someone to take them away from her again.

Is it not enough that her sweet Daeron had been sent to Oldtown when he was so young, still practically a babe who desperately needed his mother? She had cried and pleaded with father when he broke the news to her but he had been unmoving, even as Alicent literally fell to her knees in her grief he had barely spared her a glance, talking about the benefits of having the boy raised away from the Targaryen and their madness, planning the perfect way to get the King to agree.

He had chastised her for her pitiful behavior of course, shaked her by the shoulders asking if that was the behavior of a Queen, of someone capable of raising children strong enough to protect themselves against Rhaenyra, and she had never felt so small as she did in that moment with tears still falling from her eyes as he demanded to know if tears would keep a sword away from her children’s neck.

Later she had found herself in Aemond’s chamber, holding the boy and crying in his head as his small arms circled her neck and he caressed her back, aware that of all her children he would be the most likely to allow her to take the comfort she so desperately needed at that moment. He had held her, reassuring her that all would be good with the innocence of children, that Daeron would be among family and that grandfather would take care of him.

Perhaps it was for the best that Daeron has been raised away from her after all, look at the poor job she had done with the children that remained.

But all reassurance in the world did not stop her from crying herself to sleep in her middle son’s room for weeks, afraid that he too would be taken from her. Aegon is the heir, Helaena the first daughter, they belong to King’s Landing, belong to the Realm, but Aemond is a dragonless second son, it would be so easy for them to take him away from her as well. He had just held her, covered her in his blankets and offered the gentle comfort of a son.

It was all that stopped her from going mad with despair.

And now her sweet son continues to give her strength, to realize her nerves and offer his silent comfort. She must protect him, must do anything and everything in her power to see him and his siblings to live, oh by the gods she needs her children to live.

“How are your lessons going, Aegon?” Her father asks breaking the silence when he finishes his plate

“Fine.” Her boy answer, looking at his cup and shrugging

“Is that so? For what I have been told you have been spending your time evading the lessons for the sake of the cup or that beast of yours.” Father says, voice calm and low

“Only sometimes.” Aegon tenses, still looking at his cup “Sunfyre is young, the keepers recommend spending time with him to make our bond strong.”

“And what an example you are seething for your brother! For even Aemond is now disrespecting his maesters and trainers and avoiding his lessons to spend time with bastards.” He spits the words, eyes burrowing on both boys

“It was just one day, grandfather!” Aemond defends himself, looking at the man’s face “And disrespect was what Ser Criston expected from me, Jacaerys had already lost, there was no need to continue the fight.”

Alicent holds his hand in her’s, nails digging into flesh to stop the boy from speaking. He knows better, she thinks furiously, he knows how to navigate those waters, knows silence and repentance are what it’s expected and yet her sweet boy can never hold his tongue.

“And you think that bastard will give you this same mercy when the time comes?!” Otto demands getting up from his seat “Do any of you think that Rhaenyra and her bastards will remember those times when they bring swords to your necks? She is leading you all like pigs to the slaughter and you are gladly allowing her to!”

He grows angrier as none of the kids offer him the apologies and reassurances of obedience he expects. She digs her nails harder in Aemond’s hand expecting her boy to do what’s necessary, as he has done countless times before for he knows how to play this game, unlike Aegon who shrinks on himself, stubborn on his lack of care and respect as always.

But her boy bite his lips and remains silent even as her nails draw blood.

And angrier Otto grows.

“This situation cannot be allowed to continue. We must unite against the enemy before they have a chance to strike, the death of his wife will bring Daemon back to King’s Landing like a rabid dog and mark my words soon enough something will happen to Laenor and he shall marry his niece and then you are truly dommed for that man has never known decency.” Otto says, eyes locked on them all “Alicent tomorrow you will petition for the king to announce the betrothal of Aegon and Helaena, we must prepare ourselves.”

“No” The words leave her lips against her best judgment, eyes wide “Father, please! They are brother and sister, the Targaryens have their queer costumes but I cannot allow my children to sin in front of the gods! Please.”

“You can and you will!” He says “Or do you want Helaena married to Rhaenyra’s bastard? For the King has told me myself he is considering accepting that mockery of an offer and then what you will do? Let your sweet daughter be bond by marriage to those who will kill her at the first opportunity? This is the only way to protect them, Alicent.”

“No.” Helaena says, eyes wide and scared “No, no we can’t marry. Spool of green, spool of black, blood and cheese, dragons dancing, fire and blood raining. We can’t.”

“You can’t?” Otto demands of the girl advancing in her direction, voice louder “Stop this nonsense Helaena! I’m trying to keep you alive, I’m trying to make you a queen and your brother a king, I’m trying to keep our family safe! And you tell me that you can’t? Your mother has been too soft on you, you are weak and if I do not do something that whor*’s son will kill you after taking your virtue!”

“Rhaenyra is not a whor*!” The girl exclaims in a burst of courage, also getting up from her chair

“And what do you call a woman who opens her legs to any man who looks in her direction? Who disrespect herself, her House, and the gods? Who has the audacity to want to put a bastard on the throne?!” His voice grows louder and Helaena flinches back “She is a whor* Helaena, a whor* who will kill you and your siblings to assure her debauchery will reign unchallenged.”

“No she will not!” Helaena says back, eyes watering but voice strong “And she is good! She is good and nice and she will not let the poison win, she is changing it, all of it, I will not fall anymore.”

“Stop that nonsense girl!” Otto advances, grabbing her thin shoulders and shaking her even as tears spill from her eyes “Stop defending someone who is going to ruin our House!”

Alicent feels rotted to the spot, frozen in her chair as tears spill from her daughter’s pretty violet eyes and her father’s words as he keeps yelling at her do not make sense as if she is hearing them from underwater, unable to unfreeze her members and do something.

“Let her go!” Aemond says, pulling his hands from her death grip to push his grandfather away from a crying Helaena “You are hurting her! She has not told any lies! You don’t know Rhaenyra, you don’t know her sons, she loves us, she promised, she promised we would be okay! She is more honorable than you, she would never lie!”

“Aemond!” Alicent bites out with fear constricting her chest

The sound of Otto’s hand making contact with Aemond’s face rings loud in her ears. The impact sends the boy stumbling a few steps back, blood dripping from his mouth and from his cheek where a ring had made a cut, he spits the blood but does not back down standing in front of his sister who clings to his clothes.

“Look at that Alicent.” Her father’s voice drops low again, sounding sad instead of angry “Look at them! Defending their executioner, willing to defend her above our family, what have you been teaching them?”

“I didn’t.. I… I…” The words die in her throat, tears filling her eyes, whole body shaking

“We are Targaryens.” Aegon finally says, hands shaking as they hold his cup “This is our House, Rhaenyra is our blood and she promised us, she swore on all the gods! She's not you! You would have her and her children killed for the sake of my claim and you are trying to make us believe she would as well, but that’s a lie! She gains nothing from spending time with us, from being gentle and kind, yet she does it expecting nothing in return.”

“Foolish boy!” Otto hisses, turning his attention to him “She has all of you enchanted with her pretty lies and pretty words and like brainless fouls you are all falling right into her trap. This will not continue, from this day forward you are forbidden from interacting with that whor* or her bastards.”

“They are Targaryens!” Aegon says with anger in his voice “Who the f*ck cares if they are not Ser Laenor’s trueborn children, they have Rhaenyra’s blood and she is the heir, she has the claim! Their father is of no importance! I will not challenge her, I refuse to.”

“You refuse.” Otto spits out going to Aegon’s side and pulling him from his chair by his hair “You are the challenge you stupid child! Your mere existence is the challenge! You think you have a choice? Your only choice Aegon is whatever you will fight or die as a coward believing in the words of a woman without an ounce of honor!”

“She has more honor than you!” Aegon spits back squirming to get free

“Look at your son Alicent! At this point he will kiss the blade who will take his head, maybe even swing it on his siblings first! What has she done to you boy, opened her legs to you as well?”

Nausea boils down on her, her breathing hard and vision blurred by tears. Oh gods where has she gone wrong? How could she have allowed her children to be so poisoned by Rhaenyra in such a short amount of time? How could she not have seen them being manipulated and fed lies that will ultimately lead them to their deaths?

Aemond says something that gets lost in the storm breeding inside of her, the walls closing as Alicent struggles to breath, struggles to do anything but fall into despair and fear. The sound of flesh hitting flesh rings again and Aegon lets out a whimper of pain and she snaps.

“Enough” At first she can only whisper, going unheard by them all, she gets up from her chair “ENOUGH!”

Her father stops, letting go of Aegon who falls to the ground with another hiss of pain, and cleans his throat sitting back at a chair as if the last moments have never happened at all, face a mask of calm.

Alicent feels faint, unsure in her footing and in a blink Aemond is at her side guiding her back to her own chair and she takes the opportunity to hold his face in her trembling hands.

“Oh my son how can I have been so unaware to allow things to go this far.” She weeps as he puts his hand over her’s “Oh sweet boy you need to understand that me and your grandfather just want the best for you, for all of you, you are all so young, so innocent, you don’t know this world, don’t know that woman as much as we do.”

“It’s alright, mother.” Her boy whispers, trying and failing to wipe her tears, which don’t stop “I’m sorry we have upset you, it’s alright now.”

Alicent wants to laugh because nothing is alright, nothing has alright even since she entered the King’s chambers for the first time, but she allows herself to pull her son in a hug, letting his soft voice bring her back to reality, the tears stopping and the shaking going away.

They stay like this for a long time, she doesn’t even see when Otto takes Aegon and Helaena away, only notices their absence when Aemond coaches her to get up and get ready for bed, her sweet boy remaining at her side until she is laying down. He kisses her on the head and the exhaustion crashes on her like nothing else.

She is asleep before the door closes.

The doors to her chamber open so abruptly that Rhaenyra jumps off her bed with her heart beating wildly, at her side Harwin also awakens with a start, hands automatically searching with a sword that is not there.

She has half a second of sheer panic, fearing not assassins or a attack, but whoever will catch her in such a compromising position on the same night her husband has received news of the death of his sister, but before she can call for guards or demand for the intruder to explain himself she recognizes the pale silver hair and the wide violet eyes.

“Aemond? Brother, what are you doing here?” She asks, heart still beating too fast and hands shaking as she takes a step in his direction

But the boy barely seems to hear her or even notice Harwin also getting up and approaching them with careful steps, he throws himself in her direction holding her hands with a death grip and his eyes are blown wide, pleading as they turn in her direction.

There is a clear imprint of a hand on his right cheek, hints of blood on his mouth and a cut, probably from a ring, still dripping droplets of blood on his cheek.

“You can’t let them go with him!” He begs, breathless “Please, please sister they can’t go with him, do something, anything, talk with father please, convince him to let them go on dragon back or, or in another boat, anything. He’s worse! He’s worse and they can’t, they can’t go with him! He made her cry! Cry! And… and…”

Rhaenyra feels breathless as her brother rambles, stumbling over the words as he speaks as fast as he can as if afraid that she will interrupt him, unsure for the first time of how to act with him as she had never seen such a state of nerves on a boy who tries so hard to control his reactions.

Her eyes are still locked on his bruised cheek.

“My prince.” Harwin calls, voice soft but the boy doesn’t react still rambling and pleading, and the knight puts a hand on his shoulder turning him away from Rhaenyra to stare at him instead “Aemond, Aemond, breath. Breath, boy, yes, like that, deep breaths, calm down and then start over. It’s okay, you are okay.”

Harwin breathes deeply himself and slowly Aemond starts to copy him until his breathing evens once more and he blinks, looking suddenly aware of where he is and who is speaking with him.

“Oh, I’m interrupting.” He murmurs, more to himself than to them “Sorry, sorry, it’s late and I just barged in, sorry, I will go.”

“No!” Both adults almost scream at once, Harwin tightening his grip on his shoulder before he speaks “Stay, clearly you have urgent business to talk with the princess, I shall go and give you privacy.”

“You can stay” The boy blurts, looking between the two of them with far too knowing eyes

“If you truly don’t mind” Harwin nods, exchanging a look with Rhaenyra who nods herself

“What happened to your face?” She finally finds her voice “Who did this to you?!”

She raises a hand to touch the bruise and feels her heart break in a million pieces as he flinches back before catching himself and standing very still, looking at some point in the wall, she lowers her hand, feeling them close in a fist.

“It doesn’t matter.” He dismisses the question before taking her hands in his again forcing her to relax them, there are bloodied marks on his hands as well “But sister, please you can’t let Aegon and Helaena go to Driftmark on the same boat as our grandfather! Please, please, there has to be something you can do.”

“He is going to the funeral?” Rhaenyra asks unable to hide her distaste at the idea

“Yes, he was invited by father and will go on the same ship as he and the Lord Hand. But Aegon and Helaena can’t go with him, sister. He is worse! He is always mean but this time, this time it’s different, he’s so angry and I don’t know why! He isn’t usually like that with Helaena but he screamed at her today, he screamed so much that he made her cry just because she said that she doesn’t want to marry Aegon, and then he just yelled at Aegon too like he usually does and he hit them! When he said that he didn’t want the throne he hit him and he would do it again if mother didn’t stop him! Please, sister, don’t let them go on the same ship as him, he will hurt them.”

There is too much happening for Rhaenyra to truly react after her brother finishes talking, too many informations spilled in a short amount of time and she doesn’t know which one of them she has to address first, the worry of a sister about the mentions of violence or the worry of a Heiress about a political move from a adversary. Luckily for her Harwin steps up once more, dropping to his knee so he can be eye level with the boy, voice soft.

“How about you tell us the whole history?” The knight suggests “From the beginning, so we can know the best way to help.”

The boy nods, taking another deep breath, and there is a far away look into his eyes as he starts talking, voice calm and now that the initial panic left him his recount of events is precise and devoid of emotions. He talks about the dinner, about Otto’s plans and their protests, glosses over the slap he received, and focuses on his fear of how being forced to spend time in a ship, with no place to escape, will result in his siblings being subjected to an worse treatment, gives context recounting similar behaviors, explains that Otto uses the maesters to know what they are learning, how they are behaving, glosses once more over the fact that he punishes him for any perceived wrong doings.

It’s only Harwin’s hand closing around her arm that stops Rhaenyra from storming off her rooms when he falls silent once more.

“Let me go!” She hisses to Harwin pulling her arm trying to break his grip “I will find that motherf*cker and I will kill him with my own hands.”

Enough is enough.

There is much Rhaenyra is willing to bear with gritted teeth, much she will let slide for the sake of peace, but this is enough. As if slandering her isn’t enough, as if raising her siblings to fear her isn’t enough, now that f*cking waste of space thinks himself on the right of laying hands on them?

And how often has this happened for Aemond to dismiss the violence against himself so easily? How many times before Otto has been allowed to cause harm to this child without anyone interfering for him to be so uncaring, asking for help only when that violence was directed to his siblings?

How used to cruelty those children must be that none of them have ever considered asking for help? How sickening that they have been enduring this type of treatment right under her nose. How deeply upsetting that Alicent has merely watched as it happened.

Enough of restraint, she will find Otto and she will bash his head against the nearest wall, will cut his tongue and make him choke on it because dying by dragon fire is an honor such a man does not deserve.

Cursed be the day she stopped Daemon from killing Otto Hightower.

“No, no you will not.” Harwin says calmly, still holding her “Because you will regret it later.”

“The f*ck I will!” She bites out

“Nyra you can’t kill the Queen’s father while he is an honorable guest of your own father, the King himself, you know you can’t.”

The seven curse him and his logic because Rhaenyra knows he is right and it just makes her angrier.

She knows that killing Otto will be akin to taking a sword to her own neck, that it will only serve to prove right the poisonous whispers of those who think her (think a woman) incapable of taking a throne, knows it will be seem as a mortal offense and a personal attack by the Hightowers who will demand some sort of compensation, know her actions will make Otto their martyr in their campaign to see Aegon declared as heir, will cause people to question her judgment and self control.

They will not see a sister defending her innocent siblings, they will see a woman out of control attacking a nobleman.

Times like this were the ones Rhaenyra curses being born a woman. Had she been a man no one would bat a f*cking eye to her smashing Otto’s head for daring to slander her and hurt her family, she would probably be praised by it had she had a penis, but given that she is a woman they will twist her intentions and her actions until she will be seen as unhinged mad woman.

"They need you Nyra, not your righteous anger, they need their sister and her support." Her lover says, grip loosening as the fight leaves her body at his words “You can’t protect them if you are too busy trying to avoid retaliation from Oldtown.”

“Sister, it’s okay.” Aemond approaches with careful steps and takes her hand in his “It’s okay, I’m sorry I have disturbed you with this, please don’t do anything that will bring you trouble.”

“Do not apologize!” She bites out alarmed, gripping his shoulder in a death grip “Aemond look at me, if anyone, and I mean it anyone, ever dares to even try to hurt you I want you to come to me immediately. You are a child, it’s my duty as your older sister to protect you from harm, not the other way around, I need to know about those things little brother. Swear to me, swear that you will tell me if anyone tries to hurt you.”

“Sister, breath.” Her brother says, calm beyond his age as he takes her hands from his shoulders to hold them. “It’s not your fault, you have your own family to protect and take care of, do not endanger yourself and them for my sake, do not fret this much on my behalf, this is nothing I cannot handle.”

She wants to cry.

She wants to cry and she wants to hold Aemond and never let him out of her sight, she wants to find Alicent and slap her silly for allowing Otto to even be near her children, wants to find the man himself and chop his body in tiny pieces with him alive, wants to find her own father and shake him and ask if he has never paid attention to what is happening right under his nose.

Aemond is practically the same age as Jacaerys.

“But you shouldn’t!” Rhaenyra exclaims, voice wet with the unshed tears “By the gods Aemond, this should never be something you need to handle, let alone by yourself.”

“Please just don’t let him hurt my siblings, father will value your opinion above anything else I know he will, please convince him to not allow Aegon and Helaena to marry, to not let them go on the same boat as grandfather.” He says instead, pleading violet eyes locked in her own

“You don’t have to beg me anything” Rhaenyra tells him “I will do whatever I can about the betrothal and do not worry, you and your siblings will leave for Driftmark with me and my children.”

“I can’t go with you.”

“Why?” She asks, absolutely baffled

“I need to stay with my mother.” He explains, as if that makes all the sense “She is always more tense when grandfather is around, he makes her sad, I need to be with her to help her.”

“Your mother is a woman grown who is more than capable of taking care of herself.” Rhaenyra says, trying her hardest to not let all the current distaste she feels for the woman blend into her voice “She will be in the company of the King, the Lord Hand and other nobles, there will be no shortage of things for her to do, do you think Otto would be as crass and careless as risk acting in any way that would cause her harm when in the company of so many people?”

“No. He is too clever for that.” He admits after minutes of silence

“Then she will be alright.” Rhaenyra tells him, carefully touching the bruise on his cheek “It’s you and your siblings who worry me, you know that he could cause the three of you harm while everyone else is too busy to notice. Please brother, let me take care of you, I would never forgive myself for allowing you to go with that man just for him to hurt you.”

“Fine.” He nods and his shoulders sag in relief “Thank you so much sister.”

Rhaenyra just pulls him to a hug, exchanging long looks with Harwin in a silent conversation. The knight nods at her unspoken plea and leaves the room with a last worried look towards them, she knows that he will make the necessary arrangements for them to leave for Driftmark as soon as possible.

Aemond does nor protest when Rhaenyra guides him to her own bed, resting her back against the headboard with his head on her lap, caressing his hair in gentle motions. He falls asleep easy enough but she can’t find it in herself to do the same.

This time she does not bother with soft words and gentle coaching after a pleasant meal together.

Anger is still burning just underneath her skin, hotter still when she caught a glimpse of Helaena’s red rimmed eyes before a Septa had ushered the girl away from Rhaenyra as soon as she changed directions to meet her, and that no matter how hard she searched she could not find hair of Aegon. There is no f*cking way that that powerhungry leech will take her siblings away from her now that she finally has them.

She bursts into her father’s chambers without giving the guard time to try to stop her or even announce her presence. Viserys, sitting close to his model of Valyria studying a tiny building with a magnifying glass, jumps around at the intrusion, a thunderous expression morphing into confusion when he takes on her figure.

“Rhaenyra, what is the problem?” He asks turning to face her

“I will be leaving for Driftmark tomorrow and my siblings will be going with me.” She says, skipping a greeting all together “We shall wait for your arrival there instead of going together.”

“What?” He blinks in confusion “For what reason? I understand if the boys wish to be there for their father in his time of need but why take your siblings with you? Otto is here and he is eager to spend time with them.”

“Exactly because of that!” She bites out “Have we not established that that man brings nothing good to our House?! Must I remember you of his attempts to slander my name? Do you truly believe he has stopped lusting after having his blood on the throne? Because if you do then you are truly a fool!”

“Rhaenyra!” Viserys gets up, his voice sharpening “Otto is Alicent’s father and part of this family for that, he served me for many years and one mistake on his part should not unmake all that he has done for this realm and this family, I did what you asked me to and relieved him of his position as my Hand for his ambitions but in all the years that followed he has never done anything to warrant further shunning or disrespect, he is here as a guest to spend time with his grandchildren.”

“Here to cause them harm! Here to plot against me!” She continues “Do you know he plans to have Alicent petition for the marriage between Aegon and Helaena? Even when they are both unwilling? Do you know he has the maesters report their progress to him? Do you know he orders them punished when they are not to his satisfaction? Do you know that Aemond is spotting a cut on his cheek from his ring?”

Viserys staggers a few steps back, perhaps because of the words, perhaps just from the anger in which Rhaenyra spoke them, she cares not to know, her chest having with righteous fury at the fact that her father still chooses to remain blind to the snake closing its fangs around his neck.

“Rhaenyra, breath.” He finally says, brows furrowed “None of the things you told me are as grave as you are making it to be. Have you not proposed the marriage between Jacaerys and Helaena yourself? This is a sign that Otto understands our House’s need to keep our blood pure, and if the children are unwilling, that’s not so uncommon, do you not remember yourself at their age? A marriage proposal doesn’t mean they will marry tomorrow, and none of that was brought to me yet, perhaps he has changed his mind at their refusal. And there is nothing of note on him keeping up with the education of his grandchildren and expecting positive results."

"And what about the violence?" The princess demands "What about the bruise marking your son's face made by his hand?"

"And what has Aemond done to warrant such an act? The boy has a sharp tongue on him, not unlike my own brother."

Frustration makes tears well up in her eyes. They burn as hot as the anger burning inside her body, Rhaenyra is past the stage of being saddened by her father’s good will and thrusting nature, now that those qualities are being the reason why treason is being spoken under their roof, why her siblings are suffering, anger is all that is left.

“You are their father.” She pleads one last time “It’s your duty to protect them, listen to me father, for the danger coming for my siblings is the one you are inviting and allowing to be near them.”

"Enough Rhaenyra." The King commands, falling back into his seat looking far too old "Enough of this conspiracy, enough of this slander towards a man who has paid for his mistakes and done nothing after that but wish to be involved in his family's life."

“Fine, if you are not going to protect them I will.” She bites out, already turning her back to him, disrespect for the king be damned. “I will take my siblings with me tomorrow and if you wish to stop me then send your kingsguard to do so.”

Rhaenyra ignores him calling for her name, closing the door behind herself with a bang and no one dares to stop her as she storms the corridors until she spots a guard she knows is more green than black marching in his direction.

“You will tell me where Prince Aegon is right now, or else I shall give Syrax a treat today.”

She would find it funny how quick he had been to guide her towards Aegon’s chambers had not the anger still pulsing inside of her, getting only worse when he had to order the guard at the door to unlock it.

The absolute audacity of Otto Hightower to think he has the authority to lock a Targaryen prince inside his own chambers, in his own home.

She opens the door herself, closing it with enough strength for the sound to reverberate. Aegon, laying in a mess of blankets in his bed jumps out at the sound, almost falling to the ground before biting.

“Leave me the f*ck alone!” He says, hiding his face in a pillow

“Brother.” Rhaenyra calls crossing the distance in a hurry

“Sister!” The boy exclaims sitting up and looking at her with wide eyes “What are you doing here?”

She feels once more the mixture of anger and sadness when she sees the bruise marking his pale face, the clear impression of fingers around his chin would have told her someone had grabbed him with much more strength than necessary even if Aemond had not told her so. His eyes too are red rimmed and he dives for a hug as soon as she is close enough.

“Aemond went to my chambers last night” She tells him, hugging back “He told me what happened, I looked for you and when I couldn’t find you may have told a guard he could pick between bringing me here or becoming Syrax’s meal.”

“I don’t believe him.” Aegon says, pulling back enough to be able to look her in the eyes “I don’t believe you would kill us.”

“Thank you, thank you for your faith little brother, I will never take it for granted, I will never give you any reason to doubt me.” She says, tearing up and caressing his face

“He wants me to marry Helaena” He tells him with a grimace

“Aemond told me.” She nods, guiding them so that they may sit at his bed. “I will talk with the king about it once we are back from the funeral, he would never be so crass as to announce such a thing before the mourning period of the Velaryons is over and that gives us time.”

“Thank f*ck.” He sags in relief “No offense to Hel, but she isn’t exactly what I would want in a wife and I doubt I’m what she wants in a husband, we would be a really sh*t couple.”

“I will work on it.” She reassures him “But I need you to promise me something as well, Aegon.”

“What?”

“I truly appreciate you standing up and defending my honor but I do not want you to do it in situations you know will bring you harm. I know what Otto and even others think of me, know what they whisper about my sons and my honor, and while I understand that having you defend me is good to show our family’s union, refrain from doing it in private with people you know will harm you for it.” She cups his face in her hands “Let your grandfather spit his vile words unchallenged and if he ever tries to hurt you or your siblings again then you call for someone. You are the son of the king and he is nothing but a guest in your home, he has no right to think himself worthy enough to lay a hand on you.”

“No one cares.” Her brother answers with bitterness in his smile “No one cares if he hurts us Rhaenyra, no one has ever cared. This is not the first time we leave chambers with bruises on our faces, made by him or by other people on his behalf, people know they just pretend they don’t see, and those who truly don’t know just don’t care enough to look.”

His words are a punch to her gut. There is such raw bitterness on his eyes, such a bitter tinge to his smile that looks so out of place on such a young face, the bruise standing out so much on his pale skin that there is truly no way for him to hide it.

She wonders, nausea choking her, how many times has she passed by her siblings while they spotted marks of violence and never cared enough to pay attention. How starved of affection those children must be to be so easily ready to forgive and stand up for her just because she had given them a fraction of the affection that should have been bestowed on them since birth.

“I’m sorry.” She whispers incapable of not pulling him to a hug “I’m so sorry I have left my resentment and my anger cloud my vision for so long, I’m so sorry I have not been the sister you needed me to be.”

“You are here now.” He replies back “You have done more for us than both of our parents in all those years, don’t beat yourself up sister.”

“Thank you brother, for forgiving me before I was even aware I needed to apologize for something, for opening your heart to me. If the King and the Queen will not do anything, then look for me, I will do anything I can to keep that c*nt away from you.” She says fiercely “His time will come sweet brother, he will soon learn that when you play with fire it’s only a matter of time before it burns you.”

“Thank you.” He whispers back “I can’t wait for that day to come.”

“I either, little brother” She gives him a conspiratory smile “Come with me, let’s collect Helaena, I have informed the king that we will leave for Driftmark tomorrow, it’s easier if we stay all together until then.”

His shoulders sag with relief as Aegon realizes he will not be stuck on a ship with his grandfather and he is eager to leave his chamber after a day and night locked in it. The guards are not outside as they leave and Rhaenyra thinks good, let them report back to Otto that she will not stand and watch him try to destroy her family, let him know she is not his daughter that he can bully and prod into bending to his will at every turn.

Finding Helaena is a bit more of a struggle, there is no convenient guard with known Hightower loyalty in the path they take so they are forced to look around until a maid notices their inquiries to another and points them in the direction of a study where the princess is having embroidery lessons.

“Sister! Brother!” There is instantaneous relief on the girl’s face when she spots them, abandoning her needle to walk in their direction uncaring of the Septa calling for her

“Helaena.” Rhaenyra smiles at her “Are you done with your lessons sister?”

There are no visible bruises on her sweet sister but her eyes land on her arms, covered by green sleeves and remembers Aemond’s recounting, wondering if there are bruises hiding under the material to match the ones adorning her brother’s faces. Wonders if Otto is so vile as if to mark such a sweet girl, concluding that of course he is.

“Tower’s crumble when they are under the pressure of a dragon” The girl murmurs instead, a faraway look in her eyes “They try to reach the skies but they are earth bound so they must try to rip the wings of those who can instead.”

“Lord Hightower has instructed the princess to remain focused on her lessons for the whole day, Princess.” The Septa speaks, bowing to her but standing partially in front of Helaena “He has instructed me to remain by her side and assure that happens.”

“That’s unfortunate because it cannot be done.” Rhaenyra replies properly but with a certain edge to her voice “Tell your Lord that the Crown Princess has called for Princess Helaena’s company so that she can prepare for the voyage to Driftmark, she will be with me and my household. You are dismissed.”

Rhaenyra waits for no answer, knowing that the woman would try to offer protest, just gestures for Helaena to accompany her what the girl does gladly, easily falling in place at her other side, exchanging a soft smile with Aegon. The Septa tries to call for them but Rhaenyra closes the door behind them, uncaring of it, as if she will let her sweet sister spend another second out of her protection.

“Are you okay, sister? You look distraught.” Helaena asks as they walk together

“Aemond has told me of what transpired yesterday, sweet sister, I’m merely pained by what you and your brothers had to endure.” Rhaenyra answers with what she hopes is a soft smile “Thank you for defending my honor.”

“You have not to thank me.” Helaena hums “It was the truth. You are a good sister, you will not hurt us and we cannot allow ourselves to listen to poison and make the dragons dance.”

“I will protect you, all of you.” Rhaenyra swears to her “I swear it on my life Helaena.”

The young princess says nothing but she reaches to take Rhaenyra’s hands into one of her cold ones and the weight of the gesture makes her choke on emotion, a smile blossoming on her face as she holds her sister’s hand and caresses it with her thumb.

They finally reach her chambers and Ser Harrold nods solem at her, his eyes landing on the bruise on Aemond’s face and his expression darkens as he opens the door for them.

“I will make sure that no one bothers your time with your family, princess” The knight says bowing his head to her

“Thank you, Ser Harrold.” She smiles at the man before he closes the door.

Inside Joffrey is sleeping on blankets on the floor, Jace, Luke and Aemond are sitting close by with Harwin clearly teaching him some game given the cards spread among them, but they all turn their attention to the doors as they enter, Aemond’s posture relaxing even further as he spots his siblings. Jace gets up with a jump to hurry to Aegon’s side.

“Your face!” He exclaims “Are you alright, does it hurt?”

“I’m fine, Jace.” The older teen smiles, messing with his nephew’s hair “Everything is fine now.”

“They are coming with us tomorrow, right mother?” Jace turns to look at her with worried eyes “We are not leaving them behind.”

“Of course not, Jace.” She smiles at her son “We will all go together, I will send servants to pack their belongings and we shall remain together until it’s time to leave.”

“Green is poison to dragons.” Helaena says, pulling at her hand to get her attention “And we all have chosen against drinking it, we are dragons too.”

“What do you mean, sister?” Rhaenyra asks, knowing the girl is asking something but unsure of what exactly

“I think she means our clothes.” Aemond explains from his place “We dress primarily in Hightower’s colors.”

“We are Targaryens.” Aegon nods as well “I think we have to remind grandfather of that fact.”

“I see.” There is a smile on her face. “I will see what I can do.”

Harwin smiles at her with reassurance when she leaves to take care of last minute details and his presence alongside Ser Harrold gives her the certainty that her children will be all protected so she leaves to send for servants to pack for the three children given their recent request.

Aemond’s is almost the same size as Jace, she knows there are clothes for her son who will fit his brother, and for Helaena she is sure that there are some old dresses of her youth stored somewhere that will fit her with some minor adjustments, the biggest challenge is to find something for Aegon but she sends servants to the city in search of some items to buy and orders to pack some of his more neutral clothing, she is sure they can work with that until they can send new clothes to be made for them.

She also takes the opportunity to send for servants to prepare her room with extra mattress, blankets and pillows. There is no way in hell she will take her eyes off her children.

They leave for Driftmark when the sun is barely up.

No one tries to stop them.

Chapter 7

Chapter Text

There is not much happening on the voyage to Dritmark, Rhaenyra has learned very early that spending time on a ship is mostly a deadly boring affair and that is how it should be, she has six children traveling with her, they give her enough emotion that she will take an easy journey in a heartbeat, the weather is good and the wind helps make the journey even faster than it usually is.

The lack of distraction and the lack of eyes following their every moves do good for the children as they take to exploring the ship, the sailors are kind enough to take time off their days to entertain them with tales of their adventures and off the far away lands they have visited, whispering about monster hiding under the water and off wonders of lands where magic still lives on that leave all of them talking with ushered whispers later, and Rhaenyra can only imagine how much time it will take before one of them asks when they can make those travels.

Luke aware of his future duty as heir of Driftmark listen to it all with stars on his eyes and has taken to following the captain as a lost pup, asking trillion of questions about how to manage a ship, Rhaenyra had tried to curb that behavior but the old man with sun kissed skin had just laughed and waved away her concerns telling her that the boy was no trouble, that it was good to see a royal interested on his craft and that only encouraged the boy even more.

Aemond and Jace become as thick as thieves and she finds it almost impossible to find one without the other, the friendship between them blossoming in a way she didn’t think possible given their previous interactions, her oldest son is a gentle soul and the fading bruise on Aemond’s cheek bring out a protectiveness on him that reminds her of his father, the silver haired prince tries to deflate the worry and minimize the damage but Jace wants nothing with that and glares at anyone who looks at his uncle for too long. It warms her heart to see them practicing with swords in the early morning, sitting quietly by each other as Aemond reads and Jace entertains himself with some card game he learned from Laenor, she didn’t even know family could feel like this.

Helaena is fascinated with young Joffrey, spending much of her time playing with the babe and showing him around the ship, introducing him to the sea and to whatever bug she was able to find, the sailors are good to her little sister as well and after one incident where the death of a spider brought tears to her eyes they have taken to store any bug they find in jars to gift to the little girl who beams at every specimen they bring her launching in research to see what species it is and how to care for it. Rhaenyra had found a little leather journal in her belongings and gifted it to Helaena who now writes down the information about the bugs she finds, complete with beautiful drawings that are almost life-like, she looks peaceful, much more anchored in the present than she did at the Red Keep.

Aegon also flourishes away from the Red Keep in a much more noticeable way, he is much more talkative, stay away from wine to enjoy juice along with the younger children, and Rhaenyra finds that she very much enjoys his company and his tales, her brother is a much of a gossiper as any lord and lady of the court but there is something incredible endearing in the way he shares his informations, a childlike innocence, and a distinctive lack of malice when he whispers which sailor got drunk during his watch and who stole the captain’s good coat. She just laughs, pokes him in the belly and asks if this is his way of asking her for the position of Master of Whispers in her small council, the offended look she receives from him just makes her laugh harder.

In that ship there is no danger, there are no poisonous words, there is no pain and no death, there is no one vying to hurt them and Rhaenyra wishes from the bottom of her heart that it could go on forever like this.

She wonders how her father can preach about the closeness of family, of the need for them to stand as one, when he has never done anything to make it happen. How he closed his eyes and expected things to fix themselves without putting in any of the work necessary, without understanding where, and who, the problem is.

How he says he wants them to be family yet invites the very man responsible for their distance to join them.

There is a distinctive dive in the joy when they approach their destiny as they all remember the reason behind it. The kids, old enough to understand death and grief, are not subtle in the exchange of looks when they think she is not paying attention, and Jace grows quieter and quieter the closer they get, worry for his father overriding anything else.

They arrive much earlier than expected and as such there is no one to collect them from the port or to greet them but Rhaenyra does not mind, the least thing a grieving family should worry about is playing nice, she remembers well how much she loathed standing there entertaining people when all she wanted was to weep for her mother, how duty kept her from truly suffering until the day was over and she could finally collapse on her bed.

Let the Velaryon family grieve as much as they can before people start to arrive to pay their respects, it will not kill Rhaenyra to arrange their transportation.

It's only when they arrive at the castle itself that they are greeted by its owner, probably alerted of their arrival by the dragon flying above their heads.

"Princess Rhaenyra." Lord Corlys steps forward to greet them, he never looked as old as he does in that moment, all the calm and politeness of the world could not hide the red surrounding his eyes or the bags as stark as bruises “My princes, princess, we did not expect your arrival so early or else we would have prepared a reception.”

“We came earlier and without proper warning” Rhaenyra dismisses the words with a sad smile “We are family Lord Corlys and have no wish for formalities, we are here to pay our respects and offer our support in those times. Save the formalities when the King arrives.”

Corlys nods just once and his shoulders sag just the tiniest bit as he gestures for servants behind him to take their things inside the castle and then gestures for them to follow him.

“Where is father?” Luke asks when they are close enough for him to take his grandfather’s hand in his

“He is with Rhaenys.” Corlys replies with a small smile to his nephew “They are in the library.”

“Can we see him? I would like to give him a hug. Father says that hugs chase away sadness and I think he needs all the hugs right now.” Luke pauses, a frown in his youthful face and he stops forcing Corlys to do the same “Would you like a hug to chase your sadness away grandfather?”

Rhaenyra’s own eyes fill with tears, warmth at her son’s kind nature filling her chest with pride. They did good, her, Laenor and Harwin, they did good with those children and she could not be more proud of who they are and who they will become in the future. Corlys looks take aback for a minute and his own expression softens immensely before he nods just once, what is enough for Luke who throws his arms around his grandfather's waist hugging him with all the strength of a child, the Sea Snake puts a hand on his head and the other on his back, closing his eyes.

Jace wastes no opportunity and joins in the hug as well being wrapped in his grandfather’s arms just as easily. At her side Aegon takes one of her hands in his, offering her a small smile and she sniffles, using her free hand to wipe a stray tear.

“Thank you boys, I feel much better now, and I’m sure your father will do as well.” Corlys says when they pull back “Let’s go find him alright?”

They both nod, each taking hold of one of his hands, and they walk in silence by the halls, her siblings quiet and reserved observing the castle with the curious eyes of someone who has never been away from the Red Keep. She makes a mental note to give them a tour of High Tide later, she is sure they will enjoy it.

“Have the girls and Daemon arrived yet?” She asks, the unspoken ‘is the body here yet’ heavy in the air

“No, but their ship has been spotted, they should be here tomorrow at the tardiest.” Corlys says to her, sorrow in his voice, and pushes open the door to his private library.

Laenor and Rhaenys turn to look at them as they enter, both with the same red rimmed eyes and marks of sleepless marking their faces but Laenor’s expression lights up minimally when Luke let’s go of his grandfather to run to him both hugging each other as if they have been separated for ages.

“Princess Rhaenys.” Rhaenyra greets the other woman “We are very sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.” The older woman nods, for the first time in her life she does not look perfectly put together and her heart aches for this woman “It’s good to see you and the children.”

“We are here to help, anything you may need please do ask.” Rhaenyra nods in her direction

Helaena steps forward then, her eyes have that distant quality that Rhaenyra has started to associate with her dreams, moments where her little sister is not quite there with all of them, that her mind is somewhere none of them will ever be able to understand and that she makes no attempt to explain, the princess stops when she is close enough to kneel at Rhaenys side and pick a spider that was passing, her voice when she speaks is breezy, almost like she is singing a lullaby.

“A dragonrider's death is an honor. She greeted the Stranger as an equal and she and her babe crossed to the lands with no sorrow.”

Rhaenys sucks a breath, eyes wide as she stares at the girl who does not look at her, too busy watching as the spider moves across her hands, Corlys also turns his attention to the young girl, brows furrowing.

“And how do you know that princess?” He asks

“They told me, they show me things in my dreams, some of them are bad but not this one, this one was peaceful.” She replies easily, letting go of the spider with careful fingers

“Helaena has a gift.” Rhaenyra explains moving so she can help the girl to her feet, a hand over her shoulder just shy of touching “A Targaryen gift that not many can claim to have.”

“I see.” Rhaenys chokes and there are unshed tears in her eyes

Laenor offers to take them to their temporary chambers, barely even blinking when he realizes his wife is accompanied by three extra children, and they follow him in silence, both boys clutching his hands as if afraid that letting go will mean that he will disappear again. They leave the children all together in Jace’s chambers as the boy offers to show them some books he has left there on their last visit and go to their chambers, Rhaenyra taking her son’s previous position and holding Laenor’s hands.

“How are you doing?” She asks softly when the door closes behind them

“What do you think?” He replies back with no bite to his words, just pure tiredness

“I think this is a type of pain I cannot hope to understand.”

“She was my best friend.” He chokes, letting himself fall into a chair, head in his hands “She was the first person to whom I confessed my preferences, the first one to hug me and tell me she loved me, that nothing would change that. How am I supposed to keep going when I know she will never see her girls grow up? How can I enjoy life when she is not here to do the same?”

“Laena was a very special person, her loss will make this world a dimmer place.” Rhaenyra agrees kneeling in front of him and putting a hand on his knee “Do not shut me off your pain Laenor, you are a very dear person to me and it pains me to see you in this state and be unable to help. Let me be here for you.”

She holds him in her arms then as Laenor breaks out in sobs. There will be a time for her to tell him what happened after his departure, to explain that they now have three extra children to look after, but it’s not now, now it’s time to focus on dealing with pain and grief.

The voyage back to Driftmark is the longest one Daemon has ever taken in his life.

The days blend themselves together as he stares at the sea and feels the movement of the ship, the sailors have been instructed and paid to assure the quickest trip they are able to make and the weather is in their favor with strong winds but no rain.

There is a numbness taking place inside his chest, as if his own fire was extinguished when Vhagar’s flames died out and left behind the ashes of his wife. Laena had a dragonrider’s death, went out when and how she wanted, but that do nothing to make his pain more bearable.

How can he feel at peace when he looks at their girls and sees the devastation in their young faces? How Baela tries to swallow her own tears to support her sister, how Rhaena hides herself into her cabin and he can hear her weep when he stops in front of the closed door. How can he feel at peace when he doesn’t know how he is supposed to raise them on his own.

How can he, the Rogue Prince, Lord Flea Bottom, raise those two fantastic girls without Laena at his side? He is going to f*ck this up as he has f*cked up every single thing he has tried before, he will do something to cause them to look at him with distaste, to wish it was him and not their mother who died, it’s only a matter of time.

Daemon doesn’t know how to keep people around. He tries and the hardest he tries to make them stay, to make them love him the same as he loves them, the quicker they run away in the other direction, the quicker they send him away.

His father only had eyes for Viserys, the good dutiful son, and no one had to tell him he was the less favored son when it was so obvious in the difference in treatment. His grandfather and grandmother loved him but also saw him as a problem to be fixed, searching for ways to tame him, to take away everything that made him be who he is, going as far as to arrange that mockery of a marriage to a woman who hated him so much she couldn’t even bear to be in the same espace as him, who led to nothing but hatred and a bloody end. And Rhaenyra… Daemon had refused to ruin that.

He refused to stay and watch as he f*cked up things with her to the point she would be just another person to look at him with contempt, who spite harsh words in his direction. He loved her too much to be able to handle that, losing Rhaenyra would be too much, the final blow to his heart, that loss would send him into a spiral that would prove all the whispers true, would make a monster out of him.

But Laena had persevered. She had approached him and invited him to her bed, had accepted the proposal he muttered from the middle of her tights after a few months of travel, had married him despite all the warnings, had refused his attempts to push her away, had given back as good as she got during their fights, too much of a dragon to cower before his temper, snapping back just as hard, forcing him to fight for them.

She had given him everything Daemon had refused to think possible for himself.

She had given him two beautiful daughters, showed him that it was possible to love someone more than you love yourself, love someone so dearly you would burn the whole world for them.

Laena had known and accepted that there would be a part of his heart that would always belong to another.

And now she is gone.

She is gone and Daemon is somehow supposed to go on, somehow supposed to raise their daughters without her guidance and her help, somehow be able to watch them grow while Laena will never have the same chance.

In the dark of the night when he is alone in his cabin and allows bitter tears to cascade his face he feels it is an impossible task. He feels like the best would be to disappear back to Pentos and leave the girls with their grandparents, Rhaenys and Corlys raised Laena, clearly they know what the f*ck they are doing. But Daemon is selfish, he has always been so deeply selfish, and he can’t bear the idea of being away from his girls, he needs them, he needs the last thing he has from Laena.

They arrive at High Tide when the sun is dipping low on the horizon and being back at their mother’s home bring some color back to his girls, they miss their grandparents and longe for their comfort what Daemon understands very well, he hardly thinks himself the best person to offer them the comfort they crave in this moment. Laena had wanted to come back home so badly, they had talked and argued over it for so many months, how f*cking twisted and cruel that she is coming back as ashes, how much Daemon would give to go back and time and just accept when she first proposed the idea.

Corlys and Rhaenys are already outside when they cross the gates and both girls rush to their grandmother as soon as they see her and Rhaenys pulls both to her arms falling to her knees as Baela and Rhaena burst into tears clinging to her dress, it breaks his heart even more than he thought possible.

“Daemon.” It’s Corlys who steps forward to greet him “I wish we would have met in better circ*mstances.”

“Me and you both.” He gives a parody of a smile “Is everything ready?”

“Yes.” The man nods, looking so very tired “We are just waiting for the arrival of the King.”

“Is my brother going to take long?” He inquires, a frown on his face

Lord Corlys doesn’t reply, he looks back and when Daemon follows his line of sight feels as if someone knocked his breath away. She is even more beautiful than he remembered. Rhaenyra is standing next to Laenor, holding his arm as if to support him, but her eyes are locked on him unblinking, Daemon feels his mouth dry, something inside of himself coming back to life, a piece that he had tried so very hard to pretend was not missing finally returning to it’s righteous place.

How very cruel of the gods that his reencounter with Rhaenyra is tainted by the pain of losing Laena. How utterly despicable that he can’t even enjoy the vision of her clad into Targaryen red, looking every inch the queen she will be one day, but with the same softness she had in her youth, because just a few inches in front of him his daughters are crying for the loss of their mother.

“They should arrive in two days.” Rhaenyra speaks still looking at him “Maybe three if something delayed their departure from King’s Landing.”

“I want to see her body.” Laenor speaks for the first time and he doesn’t sound like himself, as if all the joy was sucked from his body

“Laenor…” Corlys starts, brows furrowed turning to look at his son

“Oh Corlys, please.” Rhaenys interrupts him getting up from the floor but still cradling the girls to her “Don’t act like you don’t want it as well. We will need to face this at some point, let’s go say goodbye to our girl one last time, just us.”

Daemon closes his eyes, forcing air back to his lungs. There is not much of a body left, not after the flames, and it will forever haunt his dreams how even the charred remains crumbled when they went to collect it from the floor, how someone so brave and vibrant as Laena was reduced to a pile of ashes. But he understands that urge, had fought against it himself all the way from Pentos, too terrified that Baela and Rhaena would follow him and catch a glimpse of what remains of their mother, he doesn’t want that to be their last image of Laena, a mangled body more ash than flesh irrecognizable if they didn’t know who it was, if he had not watched as flames consumed her whole, Laena was much more than that, he wants the girls to remember her as she was while alive.

“I can take you.” He offers easily enough nodding at Laenor “But the girls…”

“They can stay with us.” An unknown voice offers

Daemon frowns looking beyond Rhaenyra and noticing for the first time the children standing behind her, it’s not hard to suppose who they are, the dark haired ones must be Rhaenyra’s strong boys, clad into a mixture of Targaryen black and Velaryon sea green, and the silver haired ones must be Otto’s spawns, the children of his brother’s second marriage, all three of them clad into Targaryen red and black, and the one who spoken is the oldest, the male son Viserys wished for so badly that he killed Aemma trying to have. Daemon could not imagine himself making the same choice, had recoiled in disgust when the maester made the suggestion.

He would never pick their unborn child over Laena, no matter how much he had already loved the life growing inside of her, can’t understand how Viserys was able to do that.

“That’s a good idea, Aegon.” Rhaenyra turns to smile at the boy, face softening “If that is okay with them.”

Daemon wonders exactly when that happened, last time he was aware of Rhaenyra had absolutely no interest in her half-siblings and yet here she is looking at them with the same softness she looks at her brown-haired boys, if he didn’t know their parentage he would easily believe them to be all siblings. In the back of his mind he can’t help but wonder what other juicy gossip Laenor has not shared in his letters if he somehow never made mention of that.

The girls lift their heads to look at him and Daemon purses his lips into a thin line. He doesn’t particularly like the idea of leaving his daughter’s with Otto’s spawns, knows nothing about them to be able to trust they are not as much of little c*nts as their grandfather, but Rhaenyra is usually a good judge of character (Picking Ser Crispin as a sworn sword notwithstanding of course) and she looks to trust them as baffling as that is, and Rhaenys also gives him a nod when he turns to look at her.

“Very well.” He nods at least

Baela is the first to pull back from the arms of their grandmother, taking Rhaena’s hand and pulling her towards where the other children are waiting, already introducing both of them. Rhaenyra gives them a last smile, murmurs something to Aegon too lowly for him to understand and when the boy nods back to her, she grips Laenor’s arm with a bit more strength approaching him.

Their eyes lock into each other once more and in the sky Syrax and Caraxes dance together once more, so close together they may as well be trying to melt into one single creature.

The King do take almost four days to arrive, what brings greatly displeasure to Daemon and in a lesser scale to the Velaryons, Rhaenyra thinks that the three of them are all just too numb to properly feel any emotion properly, there is no amount of poise that can wash away the sadness clinging to their eyes, the way the whole castle is heavy with their pain, even the children are subbed after their arrival, their laughter’s quiet and respectful as if not even they can find the energy to feel joyous on the wake of Laena’s loss even if they had never properly meet her.

“I wish she knew them.” Laenor murmurs to her one night as they watch Joffrey sleep “My own sister never met my sons and now it’s too late, they will never know who she was, how special.”

“We will tell them.” She replies easily enough “We will tell them who she was and how important her existence was, how great this loss is. Laena will not be forgotten, we will not allow her to be.”

How much Rhaenyra wishes for the same thing. Letters are not enough, it feels so silly now that they spend ten years apart using letters as their means of communication. They have dragons, how hard was it truly to take a few weeks to visit Laena?

How different they would do things if they knew how this story would end.

The other guests arrive with very little note, most of them distant relatives of the Targaryens or the Velaryons, and when the news arrive that the King’s ship has arrived and they are on their way the party waiting for him is not worth of note either, Rhaenyra had taken over the responsibility to welcome her father and his guests so there is only her, her children and siblings and a few servants and guards waiting in the cold courtyard in the early hours of the morning, she thought it was only reasonable to allow the grieving family to take a few moments for themselves before the day.

She never thought she would look at Daemon and feel the urge to take him into her arms and hold him with absolutely no other intention than to take away the pain in his eyes.

Her daredevil uncle, larger than life, boisterous, always loud, always looking for the best way to get under people’s skin, always right in the middle of whatever confusion was going down. He is all but a pale shadow of himself, posture and face clouded by grief, clinging to his daughters like they too will disappear if he takes his eyes from them.

Rhaenyra’s heart aches for them. How she missed him, how she wishes they had met under better circ*mstances, how even in the middle of all this tragedy her own heart still misses a beat when she sees him, how a part of her aches for him.

The princess takes a deep breath forcing those feelings to go back to the tight closed box they have lived on for ten years. She has learned how to ignore the ache for Daemon, this is not the moment to unlearn the lesson that kept her going on the worst days.

The first person she sees is Ser Harrold, who allows himself one of his rare smiles when he spots them, that only gets wider when he spots the silver haired children standing at her side.

Unfortunately the next person is less dear to her heart as Otto opens the door of the carriage and descends the steps offering a hand to Alicent to do the same after him. But the man’s presence is made much more bearable by the double take he does when he spots them.

Rhaenyra’s smile is sharp.

Aegon is at her right side clad into dark pants and dark long sleeved shirt with the embroidery of a dragon in a deep red color, Helaena at his side is wearing one of Rhaenyra’s old dress fitted to her slim body, it is vivid red with details in a darker shade that simulate the scales of a dragon, and similar to his brother Aemond is also clad into dark pants and a half black and half red shirt. There is not a single article of green clothing in sight.

This is a statement, just as powerful as the one Alicent did showing to her wedding feast clad into Hightower green even if made to a much smaller audience. And both of them realize it just as clearly as they did that day, Alicent has the more perceptible reaction, she sucks a breath, clenching her hands around her green dress and even taking a few steps forward before Otto’s hand on her shoulder stops her. The man has his eyes locked into them, all indications of his emotions are in his lips, even if they are forced into a parody of a smile there is too much tension in them, too much bared teeth as if he is trying to fight the urge to sneer.

Aegon does a poor job of not looking far too smug, a smile splitting his face in two. Aemond and Helaena are better in pretending, their smiles could even pass as polite for someone who didn’t know the context of this encounter.

They are mine, Rhaenyra thinks leveling Otto with a challenging look, and if you touch them again consequences be damned it will be the last thing you will do on this earth.

“Princess.” Otto almost spits the word out, disdain barely hidden under a shade of politeness as he bows his head to her before turning to look at his grandchildren “Aegon, Helaena, Aemond, I have missed you dearly, I hope you will make some time for your grandsire, I have traveled from far to spend time with you.”

The way he ignores her sons do not pass unnoticed and Rhaenyra’s expression hardens into something just marginally away from a frown, this disrespect making anger burn inside her veins. When he address the children they all get visibly tenser, and just in this moment Rhaenyra realizes how much more relaxed they had been, just the mere presence of Otto is enough to bring back a tension on their shoulders, a defensiveness on their expression, Helaena taking a half step back. None of them reply to his words and Alicent steps forward when she sees the darkening of her father’s expression.

“Oh my children, how I have missed you!” She gives them a nervous smile “I hope you had a pleasant journey.”

“It was good, mother.” Aegon replies with an uncomfortable smile “The time spent with our family did us good.”

Rhaenyra tries not to look too smug when Alicent flinches at her son referring to her as family, when the Queen turns to stare at her with some strange mix of emotions on her eyes she cannot resist the urge to put a hand on Aegon’s shoulder refusing to break eye contact.

She wants to pity Alicent, she truly does, tries to imagine what having Otto as a father was like, remembers some moments of a youth almost forgotten where the man dropped his mask enough for her to see the monster hiding underneath the skin, the worst days where Alicent would join her with red rimmed eyes and bruises pecking from behind her dress, she tries to muster the same empathy she had in her youth, the same urge to protect her, to take her on Syrax and go far away from a society who has done nothing but cause them harm with their views on how they should act, with their suffocating control.

But then she remembers Aegon’s teary eyes as he pleaded he had no intention of challenging her for the throne, remembers Helaena’s cautious joy at being heard and having her interests encouraged, remembers Aemond’s bruised cheek and the way he thinks himself responsible for caring for every single person he meets.

And it’s so hard to pity Alicent, to feel anything but the urge to shake her by the shoulders and ask until when is she going to let Otto dictate her life, asks how she can just sit there and watch as he ruins her children, as he brings them unnecessary pain and fear. Rhaenyra would burn Westeros to the ground for her boys, she cannot phantom how such injustices done to them go unpunished.

“And that brings me much joy.” Viserys makes his presence known stepping outside his carrier dismissing the help offered as he went down the steps, he musters a smile to his daughter “Hello Rhaenyra, hello children.”

“Father. We hope you had a safe travel”

Rhaenyra smiles at him with real joy but deep inside of her heart there is still a bitterness festering, only growing as he moves until he is standing side by side as Otto, acting as if the man is truly someone trustworthy, or worse, truly a part of their family. The princess would rather be swallowed whole by Syrax than to ever consider Otto as anything but a leech trying to destroy their family, he isn’t family even to the children who share his blood, has lost any right to claim them as his own when he became the person they need protection from instead of the person protecting them.

“It was much the same, nothing special.” The king says with a dismissive gesture “Where are Lord Corlys and Rhaenys? I would like to pay my respects before the funeral.”

“They are saying their final goodbyes alongside Laenor and Laena’s family, they should be back soon enough.” She replies looking around and realizing there is someone missing “Where is the Lord Hand? Wasn’t he supposed to come with you?”

Lyonel Strong is a good and honorable man, able to open her father’s eyes to the treachery happening under his nose, and more than that one of the very few not blinded by Otto’s bullsh*t and neither bought with his sweet promises, she had felt much more comforted knowing her father was not going to be alone in a ship with both Hightowers.

“Lyonel unfortunately fell ill before our departure.” Viserys explains with a sigh “The maesters thought it wise for him to stay behind and recover.”

Dread fills her insides like someone dropped ice inside her guts. Automatically Rhaenyra look at Otto but the man has a mask of polite attentiveness, giving absolutely no reaction to the news and even if she would usually not accuse someone of such a nefarious act with absolutely no proof and even less context after what she has learned of Otto that is exactly where her mind wanders to. The bad feeling only grows when Helaena frowns and whispers, low almost as if speaking to herself.

“In the absence of the cats the rats roam freely. The danger comes from within, from blood, from chains.”

She needs to write to Harwin. Rhaenyra puts her hands behind her back to hide the way they are twisting with the need to send a raven to King’s Landing, the need to know what is happening there, already fearing for the worst.

“Oh my sweet daughter.” Alicent also notices Helaena’s muttering, lips parting into a sad almost pitying smile

“The voyage must have been very tiring.” Rhaenyra speaks when she notices Alicent making the intention to approach her children “Wouldn’t it be better if you took a time to rest before the funeral?”

“Yes, yes.” Viserys nods, apparently unaware of the biting tension in the courtyard “That would be indeed very good.”

Alicent sends an almost betrayed look in her direction as the servants take their cue to gather their belongings and Viserys starts to walk inside without waiting for them, leaning heavily on his cane probably already in pain, but Rhaenyra cannot find it in herself to feel bad for her actions. There is no way in any of the seven hells that she is allowing her siblings to spend any amount of time alone with either parents or Otto when she is aware of how damaging for them those moments are.

The tension between them is just as heavy as the storm breeding into the sky.

It’s the first funeral Aemond has ever been to and he decides right there and then that it’s not something he looks forward to doing again anytime soon. The sadness is palpable in the air, Baela and Rhaena crying silent tears as they cling to their grandmother, Lord Laenor looking like a lifeless puppet just staring at the water, Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys barely able to choke back their own tears and Prince Daemon looking numb, staring at nothing.

The malicious jab of that man, who Aemond doesn’t really know the name off but it’s apparently the uncle of the deceased, about his nephews just add another layer of awful energy to the affair as people try their best to pretend he didn’t say anything out of order, but the smirk flashing briefly on his grandfather’s face is enough to prove that there are people in there who agree with him, who rejoice on their shared ideas.

But it’s also over incredibly quick, one moment they are gathered at the beach watching a coffin be thrown into the sea and the next they are ushered to an outdoor patio where food and wine are being served like this is just another social gathering. The whiplash is honestly jarring.

Rhaenyra leaves in search of Ser Laenor very early on, giving them all instructions to remain together and in areas surrounded by the maximum of people possible, all worried eyes and soft smiles. Aemond knows what she is doing, how she is trying to keep them away from mother and grandfather and even if he aches with the need to see his mother, to ask if she is alright, if grandfather did something to hurt her, he obeys his sister’s wishes.

After seeing Rhaenyra get angry on his behalf it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth to remember how mother just stood there, how she always just stands there. It makes him feel incredibly guilt as well because he knows how much she cares, how much love she has for all of them and how much she fears for their safety, and it feels like a betrayal to wish for her to go against grandfather when the man has such a iron control on all their lives, how he is able to turn her into a mess of emotions with only his words.

He wishes grandfather could just be the one being dropped into the ocean. Surely no one would mourn for him as much as they are mourning for Lady Laena.

The prince looks around searching for his family, Aegon is back at his cups now that grandfather and mother are around once more, but he doesn’t seen to be overindulging at least as he is able to maintain a conversation with some noble, Helaena is sitting quietly in a corner, probably avoiding the sea of unknown faces that he knows make her uncomfortable and no one looks interested in bothering her, Jace is nowhere to be seen and Luke is talking with his grandfather, so his eyes land on Rhaena, sitting by herself in a bench.

She looks so lonely there, staring at her own lap with her head low that he can’t help but approach her, biting his lips before asking.

“Can I sit with you?”

“Of course.” She nods moving so there is more space for him “How are you?”

“I think I should be the one asking you that.” He says looking at her

“Please don’t.” She replies with a wet chuckle “I have been asked that too many times already, by people who don’t care at all, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fair enough.” He nods, unsure of how to proceed with the conversation

“You don’t have a dragon.” The girl says after a few moments of awkward silence

“No I don’t” He agrees because it’s not exactly a secret, a grimace on his face

“My father took Baela to see Moondancer, her dragon, she is already bound to him, has been for a few moons and father is confident she will be able to fly soon enough.” Rhaena says, still staring at her own lap “I don’t have a dragon.”

“I’m sorry.” He says because this is a pain he is intimately familiar with “I know how it feels.”

“Father gave me two eggs.” She gives a humorless laugh “The first one didn’t hatch, the second one did but the poor thing was sickly, he died in my arms just two moons after being born. What happened to yours?”

“I…” Aemond hesitates before letting off a sigh, looking at his own hands “I didn’t get an egg and couldn’t bond with any dragons staying at the Dragon Pit.”

“Why?” Rhaena asks and he risks a look at her but she looks genuinely curious, no sight of the mocking or distrust he usually receives from those who know that fact

“It’s a bit of a long explanation.”

“I have time.” The girl shrugs and then frowns “Unless you don’t want to talk about it, it’s fine if you don’t.”

“No it’s okay.” He takes a deep breath before starting “You know that dragon eggs are very rare right? There are not many of them lying around. When mother was in the end of her pregnancy with me, Rhaenyra discovered she was pregnant as well and unfortunately there are only two eggs at the Dragon Pit at the time, one of them is the egg that was destined to my father’s deceased son and for that untouchable, the other was the egg from which Vermax hatched. Father just decided that it was more important for Rhaenyra’s first born child to have an egg, as he would be her heir, than to his second born child, so they kept the egg for Jace when he was born. By the time Dreamfyre laid more eggs I was already older and no one felt it was worth giving me one.”

He wonders if Jace knows.

If everytime he laughed alongside Aegon and Luke at him, if at every prank, at every snicker in his direction, if everytime he laughed at his dragonless uncle in the back of his mind he knew that the reason Aemond didn’t even get a chance of having a dragon of his own was because King Viserys couldn’t be bothered to care about his own son more than he cares about his grandchild and his dead first son.

Aemond hopes to the gods that he doesn’t. Somehow that extra layer of cruelty is too much for him for him to process, bringing a sharp pain to his chest, a sadness that threatens to swallow him whole. He knows his father couldn’t care less about him, has been made aware of how little worth he has a second son from the second marriage of the king since before he was born and that is just a lesson that life keeps reminding him off, but that doesn’t mean he wants others to be fully aware of how worthless he is, of how little he means.

“I’m sorry.” Rhaena offers when he finishes talking “I know how it feels to be excluded, how it aches when they all can bond over something and you are just stuck watching from the sidelines. My father prefers Baela, sometimes I think he finds me lacking, thinks of me as less than his daughter, wishes that I was different, that I was more like her. Maybe if I was, my egg would have hatched or my dragon would have lived.”

“I’m sorry too.” He whispers at her “I know it couldn’t be easier for you, my sister was devastated when her egg didn’t hatch, and losing a dragon it’s a type of pain I cannot understand. You are very strong, Rhaena.”

“Mother told me I had a longer path to walk in order to have a dragon, that Baela’s dragon was born for her, but I had to conquer mine.” The girl chokes out, tears falling from her eyes “But how can I walk this path without her by my side?”

Then Rhaena hides her face in her hands and weeps.

Aemond sucks a breath, hands hovering over the girl’s shoulders and utterly out of his element. He looks around, almost begging for an adult to take note of the situation and step forward to make it right, but no one is paying attention to them and there is no one from his family in sight for him to call, just strangers more interested in their wine and food than in the grieving child sobbing her heart out.

He does what feels right and pulls her to a hug like the ones that usually work to calm mother, with his arms around her and caressing her back. He doesn’t think she would appreciate the reassurances he would give his own mother so Aemond remains silent just letting her cry on his shoulders, it feels very callous to say that everything is alright or will be alright on her mother’s funeral.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Is all he can think to repeat, hugging her harder as she wraps her arms around him as well. “You are one of us, if you need anything we can help.”

She just nods against his shoulders, and they remain like this for a long time, the position is uncomfortable but Aemond refuses to be the one to pull away first, Rhaenyra had asked them to be kind to the girls and he can’t of a worst unkindness than to pull away from her as she just bared her soul to him, so he stays, letting go only when Rhaena’s sobs die out and she pulls away brushing the last tears from her face. The smile she sends in his direction is wobbly, a pale imitation of joy.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime you need.” He tells her, taking her hand in his and squeezing it “You will have a dragon, I have faith in it.”

“I want to try to claim Vhagar.” She tells him as if sharing a secret

“That makes sense.” Aemond nods at her, not letting go of her hand “Why haven’t you tried yet?”

“It didn’t feel right.” Rhaena sighs looking in the direction of the sea “She was dying. Mom, I mean, she was dying anyways but it was Vhagar’s flames that killed her in the end and…. It’s so unfair, so hard to look at her and not think of mom dying. But Vhagar is so important to mom, she loved her so much, and I want that too. But I’m scared.”

“That Vhagar will hurt you?”

“That she will reject me.” The girl corrects him “My egg didn’t hatch, my dragon died before he had a chance to live, what will it say about me if my own mother’s dragon doesn’t want to bond with me?”

“Nothing.” Aemond replies without missing a beat “I couldn’t bond with any of the dragons at King’s Landing, they all rejected me, one in favor of my sister, and it sucked, it really sucked, but… My sister told me that it doesn’t mean anything, that it just means that my dragon is waiting for me somewhere else and there is no shame in not having one. We are Targaryens and our time will come, if Vhagar doesn’t bond with you, it just means that your dragon is waiting for you somewhere else.”

“Mom didn’t bond with any dragon until she was five and ten.” Rhaena offers, expression softening

“And that didn’t mean anything about her worth!” Aemond agrees, squeezing her hand “You should try with Vhagar and if it doesn’t work then you just keep trying.”

“I wish my dad would take me.” She sighs, again whispering like a secret “He told me once that he would take me to Dragonstone to try to bond with one of the dragons there but he never did. I want him to be proud of me like he is of Baela, sometimes it feels as if he doesn’t even like me.”

“I’m sorry.” Aemond says, unsure of what else he can say, this is another familiar pain he knows no words of reassurance of others can dismiss “Can’t you ask him to take you? Maybe he would agree.”

“I don’t want to bother him.” The girl explains “He is sad, he thinks we don’t know but we could hear him crying on the ship when he thought we were sleeping, what if asking this of him is too much?”

“I don’t think it would be.” He shakes his head at her “He would be a massive dickhe*d if he didn’t want to go with you.”

That gets a startled laugh from her and Aemond smiles proud of himself for being able to help dissipate a bit of the sadness clinging to her, they exchange small smiles, still holding each other’s hands.

Rhaena will be okay. He and their family will make sure of it.

Aemond watches his uncle return with his daughter from the beach, the sun already dipping low, and bites the inside of his cheek debating with himself the wiseness of his actions. There is much to be said about Prince Daemon in the Red Keep, scarcely good things, many relates of his brashness and cruelty for the sake of cruelty, and many other tales of his animosity towards Otto Hightower.

By all means the right thing for Aemond to do is to stay away from this unknown uncle in order to avoid any possible distaste to blend into the way the mean treats him, one should not willingly search for trouble.

But Rhaena had wept in his shoulder, confessed feeling the same familiar ache he has dealt with his whole life, trusted him with her wishes and her fear and if he doesn’t act then who will? He understand very well what’s like to feel like second best, to feel the rejection from the person who was supposed to love and protect you above anything else, and even if Rhaena had spoken kindly of her father and mourned that this was the only point of struggle between them, Aemond knows what a heavy burden that is to carry, how deeply it cuts and could see in Rhaena the same thing he sees in Aegon- The belief that nothing will ever change and there is no point in trying anymore.

If he doesn’t speak out then his cousin isn’t going to either and in the long run it would only bring her more pain. If there is a chance that he can help Rhaena by making her father aware of her feelings, what the worst that can happen? It would be hardly the first time someone has hit him for saying things they didn’t want to hear.

So he takes a deep breath, reunites all the courage he has inside of himself and approaches the man as he gets closer to the stairs leading to the castle.

“Prince Daemon, I’m Aemond, second son of King Viserys.” He isn’t sure if the man even knows who he is so better start with that “Could I have a moment of your attention please?”

“Ah, Otto’s spawn I know.” The man’s lips curl into a humorless smile “I’m busy right now.”

“It’s important.”

He insists, moving so he is standing in the way blocking the steps, they are on the lower steps, if the man shoves him out of the way then the fall would be hardly something of note, maybe some rashes or bruises. Prince Daemon looks at him from head to toe and once more Aemond is glad to be clad into Targaryen red and black, he doesn’t think that approaching the man dressed in green would better his chances.

“And what could you have to tell me that’s so important?” The older man asks arching a eyebrow

“It’s about Rhaena.”

At the mention of his daughter there is a frown on the man’s face and for a moment Aemond is sure that he is going to get shoved out of the way and eat sand but Prince Daemon sets his lips in a thin line before sighing and kissing Baela on the forehead.

“Go ahead love, I will join you in a few moments.”

The girl opens her mouth to offer a protest but he gently pushes her forward and with a last long look to both of them she allows herself to be guided by the guards no doubt going to look for said sister. Aemond moves out of the way waiting until they are too far away to overhead them before turning back to the man who looks at him with an expectant expression.

“Rhaena thinks you don’t care about her.” Aemond says directly, unable to think of a better way than to be fully honest right from the start “She thinks you prefer Baela because she has a dragon and she thinks you will leave her behind.”

Daemon stares at him for a few moments shocked into silence before anger takes hold of his expression and he advances, Aemond doesn’t flinch or tries to move when the man grabs him by his collar pulling him enough that he has to stand on the tip of his toes, experience has taught him that the harder you try to avoid the anger, the worst it is when it catches to you.

“What the f*ck did you just say?” The man shakes him “Why the f*ck you think you can speak about what my daughter thinks about me?”

“Because she told me so, today while you took Baela to spend time with her dragon and Rhaena stayed behind alone, we talked.” He answers back looking at the man’s eyes “You really think that she doesn’t feel left out? You don’t get it, you don’t know how hard it is to be excluded for not having a dragon but I do and she does, I’m not saying that you don’t care about her because I don’t know you, I’m telling you what she said to me as she cried over being left behind.”

The hands holding his collar tightens and Aemond almost expects a hand to connect itself to his face given the sneer in the man’s face but the impact never comes, Daemon doesn’t let go but there is no real violence in his grip either, he breaths harshly and the young prince says nothing just watches as a myriad of complex emotions pass on the man’s face, too unfamiliar to him for him to try to understand them, he recognizes anger and what may be sadness.

“I love my daughters, both of them.” He says finally, voice defensive “More than I love anything in this world.”

“But do you show it to them?” He replies back “It matters nothing what you feel if they don’t know that and it’s obvious to me in basically an afternoon that Rhaena doesn’t. She loves you but she thinks you don’t love her because while Baela has her dragon and can bond with you over it, she feels like she has nothing.”

Aemond thinks of his own father as he tries to put sense into what he thinks the root of the problem is. King Viserys does not love them, he has know it for as long as he has been alive, it’s visible in his lack of interest on them, on the dismissive way they are treated everytime circ*mstances force them to interact as if they are merely another piece of decoration, mother tries to minimize it, to pretend that it’s only father’s way of showing love, that he doesn’t know how to express himself but Aemond is not stupid and neither are his siblings for father seens to know very well how to show love to Rhaenyra.

He doesn’t hate his sister for being their father’s favorite, knows she has not asked for it as much as they have not asked to be ignored and left aside, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t see it, the difference in the way King Viserys looks at his oldest, as if she is the most precious thing in the world, while he can barely be bothered to call them by their names. Aemond can see how Rhaena feels excluded when she sees her father devoting attention to his sister and giving her lessons regarding her dragon while she has nothing to share with him.

It reminds him of Helaena, years ago, trying to bond with father asking about his model of Valyria and being turned down because he was too busy with Rhaenyra and the Realm to pay attention to her. They have nothing in common with their own father aside from the blood in their veins, if Daemon truly loves his daughters it would be such a shame if Rhaena grew up to feel towards him the same as they do towards the King.

The hands holding his collar are closed so tight the knuckles are white but there is no violence in them, no attempts to shake him or thrown him to the ground, it’s almost as the the prince simply needs something to hold on as he processes his words and finally the man releases the hold, much more gently than Aemond expected, merely letting go rather than pushing him off.

“You have some nerve kid.” Daemon huffs, staring at the sky “Some f*cking nerve coming to tell me that I’m a bad father.”

“I’m not saying you are a bad father, I don’t even know you.” The boy huffs himself, smoothing his clothes. “I’m telling you to pay attention to your daughter so she doesn’t see you as a bad father.”

“And why do you care, little green?”

“Because I know how she feels.” He shrugs ignoring the petty insult, looking at the sea “It’s not a nice feeling, and she lost her mom now too, that’s… That’s a lot, I can’t even imagine it.”

“I see.” There is an indecipherable look on his eyes as he stares back and Aemond feels uncomfortable for the first time in his presence “Then I better go see my daughter and fix this sh*t.”

“She wants to try to bond with Vhagar.” Aemond offers as Daemon starts to ascend the steps

The man does not turn back to look at him or even acknowledge that he heard his words but Aemond will take what he has been given, praying to his mother’s gods that he didn’t just f*ck up a very delicate thing and that Rhaena will be able to find the comfort and closeness she wishes for.

He can’t help but smile and feel warm inside when hours later Rhaena runs to him, eyes shining with excitement even if they are still very puffy and ready, to tell him that her father had talked to her and they are going to see Vhagar so that she can try to claim the dragon. When his cousin asks, with a faint shake in her hands if he wants to go with them he just smiles at her and nods.

Rhaena is not able to bond with Vhagar.

Daemon had taken them to where the massive dragon has taken refuge in the beach, far too big to fit with the other’s and even more unwilling to try he had said with a rueful smile, Baela and Jace tagging along when they saw them leave High Tide and the older prince had just arched a eyebrow but said nothing to stop them from going either, Rhaena had taken his hand in her’s, her twin holding the other one, and her nerves are visible on the shaking on said hands, who feel as cold to the touch as Helaena’s do.

They walked in silence all the way to a distant corner of the beach, the dragon almost mistaken for another of the massive dunes if not for the green color of her scales.

Seeing her for the first time knocks the breath out of Aemond.

She is beautiful.

He wants to approach, wants to get closer to her in a way he has never felt with any other dragon, of course he has tried to approach the dragons at the Dragon Pit and had been elated when sister had let him pet Syrax and ride on her, but all of that pales in comparison to what he feels in this moment as he lays his eyes on Vhagar for the first time, it’s like something inside of him is burning, an invisible thread pulling him to her direction, a want so strong he doesn’t even know what to do with himself.

His own hands shake and his breath is stuck on his throat, it’s only Daemon stopping in front of them and raising a hand to stop their approach who stops him from giving in the want to continue walking until he could touch Vhagar.

Rhaena is as still as a statue at his side, clinging to him and her sister like a lifetime, eyes wide and scared.

Aemond understands in this very instant that she will not be able to bond with Vhagar. It’s a gut feeling, a certain he doesn’t even know where comes from, and a part of him is saddened for that, because he understands so very well the pain of being the only one dragonless causes and the sting of rejection is something those who so easily bonded with their dragons will never to able to understand. But another part of him feels almost relieved.

Daemon says something to his daughter, some instructions probably, but Aemond is not paying attention, he just keeps looking at Vhagar and biting the inside of his cheek to control the urge to step forward and go to her.

Rhaena lets go of their hands and steps forward with her head held high but there is no way for her to mask the shaking on her body the closer she gets to Vhagar, who remains still, her eyes closed as if sleeping.

It’s only when Rhaena gets closer enough to be able to touch her, Daemon just a few steps back with his hands clutching the hilt of his sword as if that could avoid a tragedy, that Vhagar gives indication of recognizing their presence, opening her eyes to stare at the girl.

“She is going to do it.” Baela says to no one in particular, her own hands shaking “Vhagar will accept her as she accepted mother. She has to.”

But when Rhaena extends her hand to touch the massive she-dragon’s snout Vhagar pulls back from her touch, lifting her massive head and dislocating sand around. Rhaena stumbles a few steps back from shock and Daemon steps forward as well, aborting a movement to pull his daughter behind himself.

She tries to step forward again but Vhagar shakes her massive head once more pulling her body away just a few inches. There is no violence to her actions, no visible danger posed to Rhaena but the rejection is clear for them to see.

Yet she persists, saying words that the wind does not carry to them, but Vhagar remains untouched, turning her head away from the girl to lay down again, utterly dismissing her presence.

Rhaena falls to her knees and even with the distance they can hear her yell of anguish.

Daemon rushes to his daughter’s side, clutching her to his chest and allowing her to weep against him, the three of them just share somber looks, Baela’s eyes also filled with tears for her sister’s pain. Daemon eventually takes Rhaena in his arms to carry her back, not saying a single word to them but thrusting them to follow him back to the castle.

Aemond lingers behind, incapable of taking his eyes away from Vhagar. The she-dragon moves again, turning her head in their direction and he can swear that she stares right back at him.

It’s only Jace calling his name that brings him back to reality and with a last look at Vhagar, who remains staring at him, he runs to catch up with his friend.

They don’t make the conscious decision to walk together but as soon as Rhaenyra saw her uncle walking on the beach her own path changed to match his, and he slowed his walk as well to allow her to join him. She had imagined their reunion many times before, never able to settle into what version of it would be most adequate, but none of them had ever been so marred by grief and pain, so heavy with the silence of two people brought together not by joy, but for loss.

“You loved her?” Rhaenyra asks as they stop in some isolated part, the castle so far away from them, both turned to the sea

“Yes” He answer without hesitation

“Good, she deserved that.” The princess nods, relieved beyond measure. “I’m glad you could find happiness after your departure.”

“And you? Did you find happiness?”

She does not answer immediately, pondering on what the right answer is. After Daemon left the loneliness and bitterness threatened to swallow her whole, Laenor was grieving his lover, her father was as distant as always, her friendship with Alicent shattered beyond salvation, Ser Criston turned into a hostile strange, whenever she looked all she could see where people staring at her, waiting for her next mistake, trying to see what kind of Queen she would make when the time came, whispers following her like a plague, her attempts at having a child with Laenor failing at every turn as if the gods knew they are both unwillingly laying together.

Harwin was her saving grace. Her ally first and foremost, loyal to her in a way no one else in Westeros was, able to see her for who she was. It was easy to fall into his arms, easy to rejoice in his company, easy to love the children they made together.

Slowly, the hole Daemon left behind was knitting itself together, she and Laenor made peace with each other, forming a bond of friendship and unity to face the challenges, Harwin gave her what she always wished a husband would, and her precious boys filling her with more love than she ever expected to feel.

But the hole could never disappear, something (someone) missing.

“I did, but I missed you for all those years.” She finally settles on “I always thought of how things would turn out had you stayed, had you made me yours.”

“You were a child.” He replies, lips turned into a humorless smile “You would grow to resent me, to think of me as the predator and monster the rest of the Realm believes me to be.”

“You act as if you know better than anyone else, uncle, and always expect us to treat you with distaste, I’m not like others and I had hoped you knew.” She gives him the same humorless smile “I was a child, yes, but I knew what I wanted. My sons would be silver haired, purple eyed, babes had you stayed, of that I’m certain.”

“You love him?” Daemon asks “Your Commander?”

“Yes.” Rhaenyra answers because it’s the truth “After you left I had very few allies or friends of my own, Harwin was among them. I trust him, with my life and the life of our children, even if we are not lovers he would still be one of my cherished dear ones.”

“Then I’m glad we both could find someone to help us heal and grow.” Daemon says with finality, a small smile on his lips “We would have been a hot mess back then. Now look at me, at peace with the idea of not being the only one to receive your affection.”

“Laena and the girls have done you good, you are not the same man who mocked my brother’s death and for that I will be forever in her debt. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“She was brilliant.” Daemon whispers, eyes lost on the sea “Brave and loving, and I will never understand why the gods would ever take her light away from this world.”

She says nothing, aware that no words could make a dent on the grief clouding his eyes. A father will never grief purely for himself, Daemon’s pain is not only his own for he must also suffer for the pain tearing his girl’s apart right now and there is nothing she can say or do but offer them whatever support they allow her to.

“Come back to King’s Landing.” Rhaenyra says after a while, breaking the silence once more

“Why? Do tell me Rhaenyra what waits for me there?” Daemon asks, eyes still locked on the sea

“Your family.” She answer back without missing a beat

“My girls are here, have not been to King’s Landing since they were babes, our home is at Pentos. What family do I have at the Keep? The ones with Hightower green on their veins? The descendants of a man who would spit on my funeral pyre? The brother who has never made any effort to keep me close, banishing me at every turn?”

“My father grows weaker every day, his health declining no matter what the maesters recommend to him, your brother is dying, you can see it, and yet you deny him this joy, dare to doubt his love? He has missed you dearly ever since your departure, you know that no matter what banishment he ever gave you he would have you back with open arms if only you could swallow your pride and recognize your wrong doings.” She bites out, offended on her father’s behalf “And do not dare speak about my siblings as if you know anything about them, they are our blood Daemon, they are dragons in their own right and they need you. I need you.”

On the last part her voice drops to a whisper, almost swallowed by the crashing of the ocean on the sand, words so quiet but who stun the man at her side in silence forcing him to turn his eyes to her for the first time in their conversation, but she does not allow him the chance to speak.

“I should have let you kill Otto that day.” Anger coats her voice, hands closing into fists “It would have saved my sweet siblings much grief. He and Alicent had them believing I would put them to the sword to secure my claim, they have raised my siblings to fear me, to think of me as a danger to them, he has used the maesters to spy on them, he has done nothing but be cruel to those children. You tell me they are not dragons and I then ask you who is at fault if that is the case, is it not our duty to raise them in the ways of our house? We have been allowing them to grow under the thumb of Otto Hightower and expecting them to be anything other than what he makes of them. We need you Daemon, I need your support, they need your protection because gender and politics restrain me and Harwin in ways that could never touch you. They are your blood, no matter what you think of their grandfather.”

Daemon says nothing, but there is a frown on his face, a fire light into his pale violet eyes. He looks at her for a long time as if trying to see something more on her face and Rhaenyra just looks back with confidence, she is no longer a child, ten years is a long time and if she had refused to let herself be intimidated by him then, now it’s not going to be different.

Somewhere in the distance Vhagar roars and they both turn to look in that direction watching with confusion as the massive dragon takes flight for the first time since arriving at Driftmark.

“I will wait for your decision, uncle.” Rhaenyra says with finality, gathering her skirts and hurrying in the direction of the castle

Something tells her she knows what she will find when Vhagar lands and she is both overjoyed beyond belief and seconds away from locking her reckless little brother in his chambers for eternity.

Chapter 8

Chapter Text

Jace heard them.

He heard the talk Aemond had with Rhaena and he has not stopped thinking about it ever since.

It can’t be, can it? Surely Aemond understood something wrong, surely grandfather would not pick him over his own son. Surely Jace is not the reason he doesn’t have a dragon.

He bites his lips bloody and bides his time because the day of his aunt’s funeral is not the day to make it all about himself and other issues, Rhaena and Baela are suffering the loss of their mother, his own father is clearly suffering as well, his duty today is to offer them as much support as they accept and make sure none of them have to suffer alone, everything else can wait for the next day when hopefully emotions wouldn’t be so raw and painful for all of them.

It still doesn’t stop him from tossing and turning in his bed, sleep being hard to come. Jace is up much early than usual and with a clear plan of how to do things so the first thing he does when leaving his chambers is to search for someone who will be able to confirm to him if what he heard was the truth, it’s not that he doubts Aemond, it’s just that he needs to hear it from someone else for that final part of him to accept it. Jace debates going after his mother but he doesn’t know if she knows it either, and in case she doesn’t he doesn’t want to burden her with this bitter knowledge when she has so many other worries already.

So that leaves him Aegon, who is not hard to find as he has taken a liking for one of the rooms with the best view of the sea often being found napping there, he nods to the guard at the door as he enters easily seeing his uncle sitting at the window looking at the view, a peaceful expression on his face turning his head at the sound of the door.

“Jace!” Aegon smiles at him “What are you doing here?”

"Why didn't Aemond get a dragon egg?" He asks, skipping the niceties all together, hands twisting themselves in anxiety

His uncle says nothing, pressing his lips until they are a white line, pointedly looking anywhere but at him. Aegon is a terrible liar.

"I don't know." He shrugs after moments of tense silence

"Was it because of me?" Jace cuts the pretense, twisting his hands even more “Did he not get an egg because of me?”

“It’s not your fault Jace.” The older prince sighs in defeat, abandoning the lie easily enough. “You were literally in your mother’s womb when that decision was made, if there is someone to blame it’s the King and the King alone”

“I laughed at him.” The boy says, sadness overwhelming as his eyes fill with tears “I made fun of him for not having a dragon when I was the reason for that, how can he not hate me? I didn’t even know.”

“Wow, wow, calm down.” Aegon exclaims with wide eyes getting up to approach him “Have we not just established that the King made the decision and as such he is the one to blame? Aemond would not blame you for something you didn’t get a say in, he knows who is responsible for that and it’s most definitely not you. And it’s not like you are the only one being a twat to him, I’m not winning any tourneys on brother of the year and yet he forgives me. No one blames you, Jace.”

The boy nods but there is still a bitter taste left in his mouth.

It sounds so unfair, so cruel of his grandfather to make that decision, Jace can’t imagine his own father picking anyone over him, if there is one certain Jace has in life is that he and his brothers are their parent’s number one priority, that they will do anything and everything for them, it saddens him beyond belief that Aemond doesn’t have that.

He remembers the bruise and the cut on his friend’s cheek, the one he tried to minimize as if it was nothing, as if it didn’t matter that someone had hit him, and his stomach turns once more, mother had been furious over it but grandfather had done nothing, he had overheard her and Harwin talking about it once they thought them all asleep, and Jace’s heart aches for he knows that if someone dared to do this to him then mother and father would argue over whatever it would be Syrax or Seasmoke to end the culprity’s life.

“Right.” The word tastes bitter, and he can only stare at the ground “Thank you Aegon.”

Jace gives his uncle a last smile, that isn’t very reassuring given the worried look Aegon throws in his direction as he leaves for the direction of his room, his mind full of ideas and a half formed plan. Someone needs to do something to correct this injustice and as the one who benefited from it the most it just sounds fitting for him to take this responsibility.

From his window he can barely make out the outline of Vhagar’s massive body as the she-dragon naps on her chosen spot as she had done since arriving in Driftmark according to grandmother. Rhaena could not bond with Vhagar so maybe…

He turns back before arriving at his door, a new destination and a new person to look for.

Jace is filled with nervous energy, barely able to focus on his own dinner as he and Rhaena exchange not so subtle looks over dinner. They have to wait until night falls, because somehow this feels too special and personal to share with other people who are not as close to Aemond, and when he is sure everyone is already in their own chambers he slips out of his room telling the guard that he will see his brother to retrieve a book and that there is no reason to follow him as it’s just around the corner.

The man gives him a long searching nod but Jacaerys knows he is the good responsible brother and that there is zero reason for the knight to doubt him and his word so he is ready to smile innocently when the man nods in acceptance and goes in his intended direction without trouble.

Rhaena is already waiting for him in a dark corner, just shy of the door of Aemond’s room. Her eyes are still red and puffy but she smiles at him and there is a determined set to her shoulders.

It’s even easier to knock on Aemond’s door and be let in.

The silver haired prince is sitting next to his window, still wearing the clothes from early, and looks at them with a curious expression as the guard closes the door behind them. Jace arches an eyebrow at him.

“Why have you not changed? Are you thinking of going somewhere?”

“Maybe” Aemond replies with a shrug

“In the middle of the night?” Rhaena asks, taking a seat on his bed

“You are here in the middle of the night.” He huffs, arching an eyebrow right back at them “Why?”

“I heard you talking with Rhaena yesterday.” Jace says, tired of holding it to himself “About the reason why you don’t have a dragon.”

“Jace…”

“I’m sorry!” He interrupts, crossing the distance so he can hold his uncle by the shoulders forcing him to look into his eyes “I swear to you I didn’t know, please, please believe, I would have never ever done any of the things I did if I knew, they are not right but this just makes it even worse! I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine Jace.” Aemond sighs, patting him on the back, posture so very awkward “Have I not forgiven you already? Stop apologizing. Everything is alright now”

“But I’m still sorry.” He insists “Just because you are trying not to make a big deal of it doesn’t mean that I need to do the same!”

“Thank you, it means a lot even if it’s not necessary.” Aemond gives him a small smile, he looks very touched indeed and maybe that is why he goes changing the subject very quickly “But you didn’t come here just for that have you? What brings you two to my chambers?”

“Vhagar doesn’t have a rider.” The dark haired prince says in earnest

“And she didn’t want me.” Rhaena says and there is a hint of sorrow on her voice

“Yes, I was there too, remember?” Aemond agrees, giving them a suspicious look “Where are you two trying to get to?”

“Don’t you want to give it a try?” Jace says with a pleased smile

“And you were thinking about it!” Rhaena amends and there is a sparkle on her eyes “And that is why you have not changed into your night clothes!”

“Maybe.” Aemond huffs breaking eye contact and staring at his feet

“Then let’s go together!” Rhaena exclaims approaching them “You went with me, it’s only fair I go with you.”

“I… Really?” The silver haired boy asks with wide eyes looking up sharply “You think I can do it? You wouldn’t get upset?”

“We will never know if you don’t try!” Jace answers with what he hopes it’s a comforting smile “C’mon I will go with you too!”

“I tried.” Rhaena says with a sad smile “And she didn’t want me, but maybe she will want you. You said it yourself, my dragon is waiting for me out there, I just have to find them, but maybe your dragon is waiting for you just outside the castle. Let’s go, I know you want to try.”

“Fine.” Aemond nods a small smile on his own face “I really, really want to.”

Aemond’s room has a very convenient location on one of the lower floors that allows them to make their escape by the widows leaving the white cloak on guard none the wise about their departure, it’s a trick way down of course and maybe they almost fall to their deaths once or twice but they do manage to get back to the ground in one piece, Jace mostly motivated by the fact that if he managed to get killed when escaping from his uncle’s room by the window his mother would find a way to bring him back to life just to have the satisfaction of killing him herself after what would be the worst lecture a person have ever received in their lives, that is all motivation necessary to stay with a tight grip and open eyes.

“We did it!” Aemond whispers excitedly as their feet touch the ground once more

“Never again.” Jace murmurs back, flexing his fingers, grimacing at the rashes the stone left on his hands “Next time we want to leave our chambers we are making an excuse and leaving by the door.”

“This was the absolutely worst idea.” Rhaena huffs, out of breath “We are never doing this again.”

Aemond just laughs and takes their hands starting the walk to where Vhagar is, the path is long but luckily for them the moon is shining bright allowing them the mercy of being able to see where they are going.

Jace is also very sure his mother would kill them if they somehow managed to get lost or fall and break a bone, he doesn’t think Rhaena’s father would be very pleased either.

Vhagar is even scarier bathed by the moonlight, her scales that shone green in the sun are now so dark they may as well be as black as they say Balerion was, her massive body takes so much space that her mere existence is a threat, every fiber of Jace’s body is yelling for him to turn his back and run as fast as possible, this is not a dragon like the ones he is used to, nothing compared to Arrax and Vermax who are all but younglings, or even to Dreamfyre who even if older is not nearly as imposing, doesn’t exhale the same aura of danger, this is the oldest dragon alive, the only living being from the time of the Conquest and Jace can’t help but realize how easily this massive creature could take his life without even a ounce of effort.

He freezes, as he did when Daemon took them for Rhaena to try, a good distance away and looks at Aemond but the fear coursing his veins doesn’t seen to extend to the silver haired boy, while Jace knows his face is one mask of trepidation and that Rhaena is equally tense at his side, Aemond looks awed, as if he never saw something as beautiful in his life and while he stops his uncle just continues forward without a hint of hesitation on his steps.

Jace’s breath gets stuck on his chest when Vhagar awakes, lifting her massive head and he almost kneels right there when she opens her mouth and flames start to come to life, fear gripping his heart in a vice grip that stops him from moving, let alone yelling for Aemond to come back, to plead for him to leave because clearly this was a bad idea. Rhaena sucks a breath, holding his hand so hard her grip is painful.

But Aemond continues on, yelling words that the wind swallows before they can reach Jace and before he knows it his uncle is on top of the dragon and Vhagar finally rises to her full height, as big as any wall of the biggest castle of Westeros, and when she takes to the skies she dwarfs everything in comparison.

Jace wonders if Vermax will ever be this big, if generations after his own death one of his descendants will look at his dragon and feel as intimidated as he feels staring at Vhagar.

A smile blossoms on his face as he realizes what this means. As Vhagar takes to the sky, disappearing between the clouds just to reappear dipping into the sea, an all encompassing happiness takes place inside his chest. Rhaena wipes a tear from her face but there is a smile splitting her own face in two.

“He did it!” The girl yells

They run after the she-dragon when she starts to descend from the sky a shorter distance away from High Tide, incapable of stopping to smile.

Jacaerys can’t wait until Rhaena has a dragon and Vermax is big enough for them to take to the skies alongside Aemond.

She feels their approach.

But she does not move or even open her eyes, the night is young and she wants to rest, there is nothing else for her to do, no reason to take to the skies when her brave girl is gone. She was not the first to perish for her flames, not even the first of her’s to leave this world but it was the first time one of her people had asked that from her.

Her brave girl had been suffering, she had been dying, the smell of death clinging to her, the pain overpowering the bond shared between them. Her brave girl deserved better than a death in a pool of her blood, her brave girl was a dragon and she deserved the death she wanted, it was the least she could do for her.

And now back at the place her brave girl had called home, had longed for so strongly that she had felt it coursing through their bond, she decides to just rest, there is not much to be done, not much she has not seen. But even in slumber she is able to feel their approach.

She knows the heartbeat of that girl. She was there when it beat for the first time, she felt as it grew stronger and stronger, when she came to this world and her brave girl took her for them to meet, such a tiny, tiny little thing in her girl’s arms but with strong lungs. She knows that heartbeat, knows the love her brave girl felt for her own girl.

But the girl is not her’s.

She thought she made it clear the last time she came to her, a gust of breath leaves her when they don’t stop approaching, the girl was her brave girl’s and for that she will not bring her harm but the girl is not her’s to care for.

But her attention is picked when she notices the other heartbeat. The one who was also there last time, the one from the tiny boy with his silver and purple. She feels it, the pull, the urge to protect, to own.

Maybe.

The tiny boy approaches with more confidence than the girl, he goes straight to touch her and she opens her eyes to see him properly. What a tiny thing he is, she could crush him without even meaning to, so she remains unmoving just lifting her head so she can properly stare at him, observing what he will do next.

Is he worthy? She wonders, can he handle everything that she is?

She lays down again, waiting, just waiting. He needs courage, he needs bravery, she will not accept anything less. The boy approaches again and she opens her mouth, flames coming to life in the back of her throat.

Many men, much bigger than this tiny, tiny boy, had run from far less, had crumbled into messes of fear, so frozen they couldn’t even run. But the boy doesn’t even flinch, he raises his hand in her direction and speaks to her, asks for her to serve him.

The boy is brave. The boy is a dragon too.

The boy is her’s.

They look into each other’s eyes and he is such a tiny thing, so fragile, so easily broken that she remains as still as she can as he climbs into her back. They belong to each other now, she can feel the bond forming between them, can feel the connection, and now it’s time for her to show him the skies, to show him everything she is, everything she can do.

She waits until he is seated and gives the command for her to rise, proud of his bravery, he is worthy she decides as she takes to the sky with renovated vigor and he screams, maybe unused to the feeling, maybe just scared of the height she takes them to.

Her boy is tinier than her brave girl had been the first time she realizes as they fly over the sand and the sea, she has forgotten how fragile tiny humans can be, how little strength there are on their muscles, but her boy remains atop of her and she rewards him by letting him set the pace of their flight, let’s him command where they go, how high and how low they dip.

Her boy laughs finally, joyful and bright, full of uncontrollable glee and she roars in unison.

Mine, she thinks, she passes through their bond, she feels deep inside her body, he is mine and I am his. We are meant for each other and now we stay together. She realizes the moment her boy understands it, feels what she is passing to him by their connection because she can feel back the devotion and love he feels towards her, the gratitude.

Her boy is her’s to love, her’s to protect, her’s to teach how to take to the skies and make a home for himself there.

Her boy is tiny and the night is cold, especially high among the clouds so she makes her way back to the ground, closer to the stone construction so that he may have a shorter walk to make and remains very still as he jumps to the ground, putting a wing to help him steady himself when his legs fail to support him right away.

Her boy is still smiling as he wobbles to her and touches her snout as she lowers her head, his touch is careful, like she is something sacred, something precious. His eyes are filled with tears but she nuzzles against his hand, letting a puff of soft hot breath to warm him.

Her boy shall never cry when he has her to take care of him

Rhaenyra is completely out of breath when she reaches the place Vhagar has landed, luckily the dragon is so massive it’s very hard to lose sight of her destination and the bright night sky helps her avoid stepping on sharp rocks or falling.

Her heart is beating itself out of her chest, anxiety making her hands wet with sweat and so cold she thinks she may as well be holding ice.

There was no fire, she tries to console herself, there was absolutely no sight of anything going wrong, just Vhagar taking to the skies. But even that is dangerous, she knows how easily one can fall from a dragon when not properly holding on and she doubts Aemond even has a belt to clip himself to the saddle. Oh gods her younger brother just took flight atop of the biggest dragon alive with literally no protection and no one there to help him or even teach him how to keep himself safe.

Rhaenyra is never letting him out of her sight again. She doesn’t care if she has to lock him in his chambers until she is old and gray; her heart cannot handle another fright involving Aemond and a dragon.

The first thing she notices when she arrives is that he is not alone. Jace is there too, hugging him and when they pull back she can see Rhaena there as well, holding onto both boys, all of them with big smiles on their faces.

Their joy is almost enough to melt her heart but then she looks over to Vhagar and how utterly tiny the children look standing next to her and worry fills her insides overpowering everything. For f*ck’s sake, Vhagar’s teeth are bigger than them, the dragon could have killed them all by acident.

“Aemond! Jacaerys! Rhaena!” She calls loudly making all three look at her

“Mom!”

“Sister!”

“Princess!”

At least they are wearing appropriate clothing for the cold night, she would have truly lost her mind if she found them wearing their night clothes.

“What are you all thinking?” She exclaims close enough that she can pull them towards her “Do any of you have any idea how dangerous this stunt was? Are you all alright?”

She starts checking them all for injuries, patting them down and babbling things that don’t even register in her brain, probably scolding them over their reckless behavior, voice sharp not giving them any real chance to answer. They look unharmed the gods be good, Aemond’s hair is a mess, probably because of the wind but he also can’t stop smiling and both Jace and Rhaena look just as fine, she only frowns when she notices the state of their hands, full of scratches and rashes, she starts another tirade when her son stops her.

“We are alright, mom.” Jace smiles at her, he is all too happy to even try to look apologetic “Aemond bonded with Vhagar!”

“Your hands!” She exclaims, holding onto her son’s and turning his palm up “What happened? What did you all do?”

“We… Well…” Jace starts and the long pause does nothing to soothe her nerves “We may have climbed down by the window.”

“You…” She pauses, mouth falling open “You left the castle by the window? Jacaerys, are you telling me that you three were literally hanging down the side of the castle with nothing to hold you but your hands?! Are you out of your mind? Do you know how dangerous that was?! By the gods do you not have doors at your chambers?!”

Scratch that she is locking all three of them in their chambers forever.

“Well we couldn’t leave by the door, the guard would try to stop us.” Rhaena reasons, as if that makes anything better “But it was fine! We got down with no problems!”

“No problems!” Rhaenyra almost screeches “You three climbed down the side of the castle, in the middle of the night, to go in search of a massive dragon! By yourselves! By the gods if anything happened no one would even know you are missing until it was too late! How could you all be so irresponsible? Anything could have gone wrong!”

“It was my fault, sister.” Aemond says, voice demure and he steps forward until he is the one standing in front of her “Please don’t be angry at Jace and Rhaena, it was my idea and my fault, they were just going along with me, I’m sorry for my actions and take responsibility for what I have done.”

“What? No, we volunteered to go!” Jace exclaims

“Yes, we went to your chambers, we would have proposed that to you anyway.” Rhaena nods in agreement

“No, it was all me.” Aemond denies, still looking only at her “They are just trying to share my blame, don't listen to them. I’m sorry, any consequences that may arrive from this are mine to bear alone sister, they are at no fault but following after me.”

Aemond looks at the ground, the previous smile wiped completely from his face as he stands in front of her with his shoulder hunched together and hands clasped behind his back.

It takes Rhaenyra a few moments to understand what is happening in front of her and when she does she feels sick, feels regret burning at the back of her throat, wants to swallow her words.

She has forgotten that this little boy is not her son, that what he expects from a scolding is very different from Jace, who looks chastised enough now but who has the relaxed air of a child who knows the worst thing that will happen to him is a few meals without desert ot being forbidden from doing something fun for a few weeks.

Aemond doesn’t flinch when she moves her hand to hold his face but she wishes that he did. She wishes he showed fear, that he tried to defend himself, that he flinched away from her, that he did anything but show this quiet acceptance. As if he is just waiting for the blow, as if he knows what is coming and is fully prepared to just bear it.

“They haven’t done anything wrong.” He says again, still not looking at her and his next words are a quiet whisper “Please, it’s my fault I can take all the punishment, don’t be angry at them.”

“I’m not angry.” She chokes the words, eyes suddenly filled with tears “Oh my sweet brother, I swear I’m not angry, I’m just worried, what you all did was very reckless and I worry too much for you all to be able to stand the thought of all that could have gone wrong, but I’m not angry.”

Aemond risks a quick look at her and the look in his eyes break her heart, makes her want to scream and find Otto and skin him alive because she knows this look is his fault, knows the mixture of distrust and cautious hope is the look of a child who has made himself so used to cruelty that he can’t even hope to be meet with anything else.

She pulls him to a hug, dropping to her knees so she can properly hold him. He tenses in her arms for a few moments before relaxing and hugging her back.

“I will never hurt you, have I not promised this before?” She whispers in his ear “You are safe with me, no one will ever hurt you like that again.”

Aemond nods against her shoulder, and she can feel the slight shaking of his hands as he clutches her dress, when he pulls back he still looks unsure but his shoulders relax a little and she counts it as a win. He will learn eventually.

“We are sorry for worrying you mom.” Jace speaks getting close and holding her hand “We will not do this again, we swear.”

“Good.” She nods at her son and then can’t help but turn to smile at Aemond “So given the fact that you do look unharmed I can suppose that you have a dragon?”

“Yes!” His posture changes again, a smile blossoming on his face, eyes sparkling “Vhagar accepted me! She accepted me, sister and we flew! It was amazing!”

“I’m so proud of you.” Her smile widens, and she pulls him to another hug “So very proud! I told you your dragon was waiting for you didn’t I?”

“You did.” He nods again and turns to look at Vhagar “And here she is.”

Vhagar had been watching them with intense eyes, something inside of Rhaenyra tells her that if she had stepped out of line the dragon would have no qualms into making her the nighttime meal, and she shakes her head fondly. Well at least her reckless little brother has the deadliest companion in the seven realms, something also tells her that he will need her given his tendencies to put himself in harm’s way, she hopes Vhagar will become her ally in keeping him safe.

“Mom would be happy.” Rhaena speaks and there is only a little wetness to her voice “Take care of her, Vhagar is a very special dragon, she deserves only the very best.”

“I will.” Aemond turns to look at his cousin, taking her hand “Thank you Rhaena.”

“I’m glad it was you.” The girl almost whispers, a sad smile “And my dragon is also waiting for me somewhere right?”

“Of course it is.” Rhaenyra answers for him, smiling at the girl “You proved herself a very brave and caring person, even if I’m not thrilled about the execution of this plan, and I’m absolutely sure there is a very special dragon waiting for you, and we shall help you find them.”

“Really?” The girl asks with shining eyes

“Of course! There are unclaimed dragons at Dragonstone, I’m sure your father will not have a problem if we take a detour there on our way to King’s Landing.” Rhaenyra smiles, fully aware that that is what they will do no matter what protest Daemon may offer, this little girl needs some joy in her life

“Thank you princess!” Rhaena exclaims giving her a hug

“Just Rhaenyra or Nyra is fine sweetling.”

She hugs the girl back, heart as warm as it can be, and breathes a breath of relief. Her kids are fine, they are unharmed, and her little brother is now the rider of the biggest dragon in the world. Things could have gone much worse but she will focus on what truly happened and rejoice.

“Let’s go back to the castle.” She suggests “I believe this occasion deserves to be celebrated with juice and sweets.”

“Really?” Aemond asks with wide eyes

“Of course! You just claimed a dragon, if that is no reason to celebrate then what is?” She huffs, messing his hair. “Let’s go, we can call Luke, Aegon, Helaena and Baela to celebrate with us, I’m sure they will be overjoyed.”

“Luke will be mad we didn’t invite him.” Jace huffs, but there is a smile on his face

“Baela will too.” Rhaena sighs long suffering

“Just remember them that it will not be them who will be banned from deserts after this night.” Rhaenyra explains with a smile on her lips “That will cheer them up.”

“For how long?” Jace asks with an outraged expression on his face “Mom, please.”

“I will think about it.” She answers drily “Let’s just say that you three better enjoy today and commit the flavors to memory.”

The three children groan in unison and she can only laugh, ushering them back to the direction of the castle, Aemond stopping to run back and hug Vhagar’s snout the best she could, the dragon with a gentleness Rhaenyra didn’t know she could posses snuzzled back, her size making the boy go back a few steps, looking as pleased as a big cat.

She gives Aemond an encouraging smile when he runs back to her side and his shoulders finally lose all their tension, expression pleased and relaxed making her too feel much lighter. He takes her hand in his and murmurs low enough that only she can hear.

“Thank you sister.”

“No.” She shakes her head, throat tight “Never thank me for treating you as you deserve, little brother.”

“Alright.” He agrees after a few moments, probably more for her sake than because he believes in her words

“Do you want me to send someone to call father and your mother? So that you can share the news with them?”

“No.” He shakes his head, his next words more to himself than to her “I don’t think they will care.”

Her heart hurts and she just squeezes his hand, unable to muster the words to try to make him feel better because what can she say? They both know he speaks the truth. Alicent may care in the way one cares about an achievement they don’t truly understand, she may be a Targaryen by marriage but she is far too fearful of dragons to understand how much meaning this has to her child.

“We will tell in the morning.” She offers him with a soft voice “And I may even be inclined to omit from your mother the fact you truly thought that leaving by the window was a good idea.”

“Thank you sister.” Aemond smiles at her, squeezing her hand one last time before hurrying to join Jace and Rhaena

“Those kids will be the death of me.” Rhaenyra murmurs to herself but there is no way she can stop the smiling from surging on her face

The sun is barely up and Daemon is already feeling sweat accumulating on his brows as he swings a training sword against a straw man with restless energy.

Sleep had evaded him as it has been doing since Laena’s death, he is lucky if he can catch half a night of interrupted sleep before jousting awake with memories of flames and ashes, a bitter taste in his mouth and the need to hold someone who is no longer there.

He wonders if this is what his father felt when his mother died.

If this is what Viserys lives with constantly.

Gods be good he hopes not because the agony is enough to make him want to scream. He understand it now, the grief marrying his father’s face, his adamant refusal to even consider taking another wife, the pain only a loss so devastating can bring, his own mother was almost the same age as Laena when childbirth also took her life and he wishes his father was still here, that he could ask him for the deal with this.

But he has no one, and as such has developed a routine to deal with it, to tire his mind and his body enough that he will be able to go through the rest of the day in a almost dignified manner, he always exchanges clothes because he knows that staying in bed does nothing but further the darkness in his thoughts, checks on his girls taking a few moments to sit besides each of them and just look at them.

He spends a longer time with Rhaena this time, carefully tracing the bandages in her hands with a finger wondering when exactly he has allowed his babygirl to question the love he feels for her, wondering when he became his own father, how he could not notice she was feeling left out until the little green menace confronted him about it, how he was losing his girl without even being aware of if.

Rhaena is different from him, different from Baela and he thinks he can understand where his failure lies. Bonding with Baela is easy, his oldest girl is a ball of fire and energy, eager to learn how to wield a sword, how to throw punches, to run and jump in mud and spend time with her dragon and listen with complete focus as he recounts previous battles, Baela is much like himself, has a fire burning bright inside of her and he knows how to deal with that, how to diverge her energy in productive ways so she doesn’t go stir crazy.

Rhaena has always been softer, the quiet of the two, always trailing after Baela putting out the fires she lit, muttering apologies over her harsh words, making nice with any person they meet and being immediately surrounded by people like it’s easy, she is much like Laena in that regard, has such a natural light that everyone is just draw to her. But Rhaena is guarded with her emotions, while Laena and Baela has never had a single issue with telling him to his face when they are not satisfied with his actions, his little girl has kept her hurts to herself and he has been too blind to notice it, to understand that her silence does not means things are perfectly fine.

And now look at her, facing her fears to try to claim Vhagar and, still dealing with the grief of having failed, having the strength to offer her cousin the same opportunity, feeling joy for his success where she failed.

His girl is strong in her own way and Daemon needs to do better for her. Family is everything, it’s the most precious thing one can have, Daemon can be many things, can commit many horrors, but no one can accuse him of not caring or not doing everything for the sake of his family, and now he most double on his efforts with Rhaena and Baela, since Laena is not here to love them, it falls to him the responsibility and the honor of doing it for both of them.

With a last kiss to her forehead, the little girl too tired to even react, he leaves her chambers to follow the next part of his routine, finding himself in the training yard letting his frustrations out in a straw man.

It’s cathartic, just him in the empty and silent place with repetitive movements made with no purpose but expel the restless energy coursing his veins, stopping him from tossing and turning into an empty bed.

He is so engrossed in his movements that he admits to get a bit startled when he stops to wipe the sweat off just to find a kid staring at him, sitting atop of some boxes.

“How long have you been there?” Daemon huffs looking at the boy

“A while.” The kid admits looking back at him “How long have you been here? It’s very early.”

“A long while.” He replies, and puts emphasis on his next words “I like the quiet and silence.”

“I’m not bothering you!” The kid exclaims, sounding offended “You didn’t even notice I was here until now.”

"Fair enough brat." Daemon nods at him, lips twitching in amusem*nt "But why are you here?"

“I couldn’t sleep.” His unwanted companion shrugs “So I decided to take a walk.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be under arrest in your chambers?” Daemon asks “I’m very sure Rhaenyra was very clear in that regard, she even grounded my own daughter. You didn’t climb out the windows again did you?”

“Of course not! Ser Willis is the guard outside my door and he always falls asleep at the same time, I just walked out. I’m not going to get into trouble, I don’t want to worry my sister again.”

“So plain sneaking out instead of almost suicidal sneaking out.” The prince says drily “An improvement I suppose. I just hope that next time you drag my girl with you to some stupid quest you remember your good sense and the fact that I have a very sharp sword.”

“Rhaena is a really good person.” The boy answers, completely ignoring everything else. “I’m glad you made up with her, she doesn’t deserve to carry that pain.”

“You are one noisy little f*cker aren’t you?” Daemon huffs, amused against his best judgment “Did it ever pass through your head that I may take offense to your words and act accordingly? I’m sure you do know my fame among the people of the Red Keep.”

“Grandfather says that you are Maegor reincarnated and an example of depravity and unholiness, that we should never lower our guards around you and avoid all interactions.” The boy nods at him solemn

“Your grandfather is a c*nt.” Daemon’s smile is all teeth, not truly surprised over Otto’s opinion of him, almost proud of being so hated by that leech “And yet even knowing his low opinions of me and the bad blood among us you approach me to call me a bad father, I don’t know if you are truly brave or just stupid.”

“You said it yourself, my grandfather is a c*nt.” The boy shrugs “He also said that Nyra hates us and would kill us for the throne, and now I know he was lying so who knows what else he is lying about? Besides I am your nephew and as far as I know being a kinslayer is not a really sought after title, I was pretty sure you wouldn’t kill me no matter how offended you got, anything else can be dealt with. And I didn’t call you a bad father! I just told you that Rhaena felt you like her sister better.”

Daemon just gaps at the boy, unsure of which part of his little speech shocks him more. The casual way he agrees his own grandfather is a piece of sh*t is deeply amusing of course, makes a part of Daemon fill with maniac glee to know that not even Otto’s own kin likes the man, but the confirmation of Rhaenyra’s words on the beach are enough to stop the glee from busting out in any other way than a smile.

That Otto wants to see his blood on the throne is no surprise to anyone who has eyes and half a brain. Only Viserys could be so blind to others malice to not realize for how long Otto has been plotting this, going as far as whoring out his daughter to the grieving king, and how if not for Rhaenyra’s ultimatum years ago he would probably have poisoned even more the relationship between their family, making the distance between them even larger. But it’s something else to have a verbal confirmation of how deeply his plot actually runs, of how he has tried to twist his grandchildren to fall in line using fear.

And the implications of violence against said children do nothing but make him grit his teeth. He had been skeptical when Rhaenyra talked about Otto hurting his grandchildren, because surely people would have seen something? Those are royal children with living parents, it’s not possible that they have been victims of cruelty under their own roof and no one was none the wiser to it.

But then again maybe people know, maybe they simply do not care. He thinks about the little queen in her green dress, the anxious way she picks at her nails, how she looks at Otto every time she opens her mouth as if waiting for his approval to speak, how she falls silent every time he cuts her off as if she is not the queen and far outranks a second son with nothing to his name, the girl who followed obedient when her father send her in a path that would end with her marrying her best friend’s father, a man old enough to be her own father, or considered as a whor* who tried to seduce the king, would that girl really stand up to her father for the sake of her children?

It’s easy to realize that people looked to the royal couple for guidance in how to deal with any violence they saw directed to those children. If none of them do anything about it, then surely nothing shall be done.

Daemon wonders how many people Rhaenyra has wished to feed to Syrax since discovering it. Admits to himself that the mental image of her sentencing Otto to death does get him excited, he was always attracted to her fire.

“Does he hurt you?” He asks at the end, brows furrowing

“Grandfather?” The boy asks, face closing in a mask of blankness as he stares at the ground

“Yes.”

But the kid says nothing, remains looking at the ground and lightly kicking his legs as if Daemon has not said anything. His silence is oppressive, as much of an answer as if he had shouted it from atop of Vhagar.

“I asked you a question.” Daemon grits out approaching more, waiting it to be said out loud

“What does it matter?” Aemond grits out finally looking at him with a almost annoyed expression

“It matters because that means that Otto should lose his f*cking hand at the very least for daring to lay a hand on royal children!” Daemon hisses with annoyance, face hard

“Like anyone cares!” Aemond huffs, humorless smile “No one gives a f*ck about us Prince Daemon.”

“Rhaenyra….”

“Sister cares but there is nothing she can do.” The young prince interrupts him “She wanted to kill grandfather when I told her about something he did, but we know she can’t do that without making everything worse for herself and her kids, none of us want for her to suffer for our sake! Sister is doing all she can, but we can’t expect her to put herself in harm’s way for us.”

We need you Daemon, I need your support, they need your protection because gender and politics restrain me and Harwin in ways that could never touch you. He recalls with clarity her words on that same talk, the way vulnerability shone on her eyes even as he clenched her jaw and forced her face to remain composed.

It wasn’t just about her claim. It wasn’t just about the throne. It was about family, it was about their House, it was about his blood.

Of course the female heiress of the Iron Throne could not kill the father of the queen. Of course a commander of the city watch has even less power.

“And my brother?” He asks at least

“The king has other matters to attend to.” His nephew replies, hollowness on his voice

Oh Viserys, Daemon thinks with an annoyed sigh. So much for wanting male heirs, so much f*cked up sh*t done for that goal, and then when he has those heirs he allows his fondness for Otto f*cking Hightower to blind him? Leaves those kids to be raised by a c*nt of a man and his puppet? Honestly what a mess things have become in his absence.

“You green brats really got f*cked over didn’t you?” He huffs a breath of laughter, shaking his head

“It is what it is.” Aemond shrugs “We are just doing what we can.”

“And your brother really has no desire to be king?” He asks arching his brow

“Aegon?” His nephew then laughs, shaking his head “The less responsibility my brother has the happier he is, he has never once shown any interest in challenging sister, it is grandfather trying to push him. We are not threats to our sister Prince Daemon, she has shown us nothing but love and devotion ever since we started to truly interact, if we didn’t have interest in doing what grandfather wanted before, now that we know the type of person our sister is, we are even more unwilling.”

The Realm’s Delight strikes again, Daemon thinks, hoping that fondness does not flood his expression. Rhaenyra is truly one of a kind, how can anyone truly get to know his little dragon and not fall head over heels for her? And the gods know he has tried to resist her, has tried to foul himself with ideas of ambition and marriage of convenience, but in the end he could not deny the warmth he feels towards her, the true feelings blossoming inside his chest, set alight in that night where their lips meet for the first time, consuming every fiber of his being.

Daemon would burn Westeros to the ground for Rhaenyra, but at the same time he knows that she would never approve of him doing so, knows that she is fair and even tempered, that she has Viserys’ warm nature but none of his blindness and naivety. His Queen will be the best f*cking thing to happen to this realm and he has know for long years that he will break the knees of every lord if that is what takes for them to bend to her.

He supposes that looking out for those three green brats she has taken under her wing is no great sacrifice.

“You love her.” Aemond breaks him out of his musings, he is looking at him with his head tilted to the side

“Yes I do.” Daemon answers because there is no reason to lie

“She looks at you differently.” His nephew says, staring him up and down “We all see it, she isn’t very subtle.”

“Rhaenyra is many things, little nephew, subtle has never among them.” Daemon snorts

“You aren’t going to hurt her for the crown are you?”

“You think I'm capable of that?”

“You did kill your first wife.” The boy says boldly, unimpressed with his attempt of an innocent expression “And grandfather has a lot of stories about you and your actions, but we have established he is a c*nt with a grudge against you for some reason.”

“Your grandfather has never been able to fool me with his bullsh*t and I have been very vocal about calling him out, of course he hates my guts.” He smiles again, something dark in it before softening “Rhaenyra is different, you know that, if I had any intention of killing her for the throne I would have done so long ago. Family matters, nephew, and Rhaenyra matters to me even more than you can understand.”

“She loves Ser Harwin too.” Aemond says, and his shoulders relax a little

“And I loved Laena, still love and will always love.”

“She will be very hurt if you do something against him.”

“Is this your very unsubtle way of asking me to not hurt her commander?” Daemon laughs quietly

“I’m not a very subtle person either.” Aemond admits, ears red as he shrugs looking at the ground

“Honestly? Some years ago I would have had the man killed or done the deed myself without thinking twice about it. But I have loved another myself and that didn’t change the way I feel towards her, it would be truly hypocritical on my part to doubt her ability to love us both, and we know that hypocrisy is a Hightower trait and I refuse to share anything with that cursed blood. Her commander is safe from the dreadful Rogue Prince.”

“Oh thank the gods.” The boy mumbles, finally relaxing “I would hate to have to hate you for that.”

“You are a menace brat.” Daemon chuckles, amused beyond belief “I will hate to see what sort of trouble you get yourself into on a regular basis.”

“I don’t get into trouble.” Aemond huffs offended “Aegon is the one always getting himself in trouble, I will let you know I’m the one helping him most of the time!”

“Then I already know Helaena will be my favorite.” He replies drily

“Like you aren’t a troublemaker.” His nephew mumbles, more to himself than to be overhead and Daemon answers with a light slap to the back of his head

“Respect your elders brat.”

“Of course Prince Daemon, I will be on my best behavior from now on.” Daemon wonders if anyone is fooled by that expression of innocence

“Stop with this nonsense of prince, I’m your uncle after all.”

“Thank you uncle.” The boy gives him a small and sincere smile that gets a hint of mischief to it as he continues “Does that mean that you can show me Dark Sister then?”

“So that is the reason you were creeping around watching me train.” The older man rolls his eyes, “I suppose I can humor you.”

Aemond immediately jumps off the stack of boxes he was sitting on approaching him with wide and hopeful eyes. Daemon picks Dark Sister, resting in her sheath close to him and reveals the blade to the boy who looks utterly awed at the blade inching closer but smart enough to not actually touch the sharp blade.

“It’s beautiful!” Aemond exclaims with bright eyes “Is it heavy?”

“Not really, Valyrian steel is different from any type of steel one can find in any other land, much akin to dragon bone; it is both stronger without suffering for it in weight.”

“Why does it have those marks?”

“Those ripples indicate that the steel has been folded into itself multiple times, a thousand some books will say, much more than any other type of weapon. This is one of the reason why it’s such a rare weapon, not only because the source material is all gone, but because how hard it is to craft a true useful weapon with it, people have tried to melt tools and jewelry to recreate the weapons but they have failed for no kind of fire was able to damage the steel.” Daemon is not a enthusiast of history, not like his brother especially, but he does care about the story of his own weapon, of the heirloom from the time of the Conquest

“They say that the blades are forged with magic.” Aemond says still admiring the blade “Do you think it true?”

“Maybe” The old man shrugs. “Many secrets have been lost in the Doom, the one for the making of Valyrian steel blades is one of them.”

Just to show off a bit Daemon does finish his morning routine of training using Dark Sister instead of a regular training sword of steel, just to see the way his nephew’s eyes grow wider and even more amazed as his sword cuts through even solid wood with the same easiness it does against straw.

“Something tells me you like swords.” Daemon comments when he is done and has put away his weapon, the kid just nods “Next time you sneak out of your rooms come look for me, let’s see what sort of training the buffoons at King’s Landing have been giving you.”

“Really?” His nephew asks, hopeful smile trying to blossom on his face

“Of course, I need to know the swords who will stand by Rhaenyra when the time comes. I may even be in the mood to teach you a few tricks.” He tells him, smile on his own lips as he anticipates his next words “But not now. It’s time to break our fast, the rest of the castle must be awake and the gods know you don’t want Rhaenyra to not find you in your chambers or somewhere equally as acceptable after the stunt you pulled.”

“She is never going to let me live that down is she?”

“Absolutely not.” Daemon says laughing at the miserable expression on his face “Think on the bright side that she will also never let her own son live it down either, you too may even get to share a chamber, make it easier for the guards to keep you locked in.”

The dirty look he gets in lieu of an answer only makes him crackle louder.

Daemon sends his nephew ahead of himself to join their family to break their fast, a hosting event for the sake of the king that he has no doubt no one is thrilled to be having in such devastating circ*mstances, while he goes to refresh himself and change into clean clothing- Rhaenys would hand his ass to Meleys if he showed up to her table smelling like sweat and dirty from training, he knows she would because she tried it once before and it was only Laena’s intervention that saved him from becoming dragon meal.

By the time he arrives at the room being used to host the meal everyone else is already seated and enjoying their food, a convenient empty chair left between Viserys and Rhaenyra clearly waiting for him and he makes no ceremony to sit after kissing both of his girls in the head and muttering greetings to the people who matter- So everyone but the green queen and her c*nt of a father, whose smile Daemon wanted to wipe from his face with his fists.

“Hello brother.” Viserys claps him in the shoulder, his grip as frail as the rest of him “You took your sweet time to join us.”

“I was down in the courtyard for some training, and had an unexpected guest delaying my plans.” He answers, filling his cup and grinning provocatively at his nephew “Almost talked my ears off.”

“Oh? And you didn’t do anything harsh?” His brother asks, sounding amused “I remember one time you chased some poor soul hellbend on cutting his tongue for interrupting you.”

“I don’t think you would be very amused if I threatened to cut your son’s tongue, brother.” He snorts in his cup “And I suppose the brat is not bad company.”

The reactions are worth it, Aemond rolls his eyes at his uncle eating his eggs as if they personally offended him, little Helaena seated besides Rhaena just inclines to whisper something to his girl who giggles, the other kids also look to each other, but the best reactions are from Rhaenyra who lifts her head to look at him, eyes wide and face softening in a smile as he glances between him and her younger brother, and of course the ones from the green c*nts. Alicent drops her cutlery, eyes so wide they may be trying to pop out her skull looking like Daemon has just told her he skins puppies alive in his spare time, and Otto grinds his teeth so hard together that Daemon is sure the movement is audible, he grips his cutlery looking almost ready to stab someone with the knife.

Oh if Daemon knew he could cause such an emotion on the man he would have done this much sooner.

“My son?” Viserys just blinks at him before looking at both boys as if trying to decide which one

“Why?” The queen finds her voice, it sounds strained, like the woman is fighting with everything she has to not allow it to shake

“Yes, brother, your younger son. Aemond has made a habit of sneaking out of his chambers it seems, only this time he didn’t go after a literal dragon.” All kids, Rhaenys and Rhaenyra either roll their eyes or give him exasperated looks at the joke

“Aemond…” The queen starts turning to look at her son with a pain filled expression “Sweetheart…”

“It’s alright mother.” The boy's expression softens, his voice sounding so very mature as he smiles reassuringly at her “I could not sleep after last night’s excitement and found myself in the courtyard where Uncle Daemon was training and we spoke for a bit, he was nothing but kind to me. There is nothing to worry about.”

This only seems to upset the woman more as she looks between her son and Daemon, eyes searching as if expecting the boy to be covered in bruises or blood, as if trying to gouge what kind of evils Daemon has done to her precious boy. Rhaenyra also notices because she glowers at her former friend, lips into a thin line with emotions Daemon does not have enough acknowledgement of their current relationship to be able to fully understand, annoyance maybe, perhaps even pity.

“Why?” Alicent repeats, this time looking at Daemon “You never showed interest in my children before, why now?”

“Why not? He is my nephew after all.” He answers back “Besides it will be good to get to know the new members of my family since I will be seeing them much more frequently as I take residence back at the Red Keep.”

“What?” Otto finally breaks his silence, brows furrowing

“Brother!” Viserys ignores it all, smiling brightly “I knew you would change your mind!”

“Rhaenyra convinced me to.” He says locking eyes with the woman, speaking directly to her “She reminded me that my first duty is to my family and I have been relapse into it for the last years, I cannot allow my girls to be strangers to their own kin, to allow my nephews and nieces to be strangers to me, we must remain together so that our strength prevails over those who may try against us. It was Laena’s wish for us to come home, it’s past the time we do so.”

I hear you, he tells her with his eyes hides into his words, I hear you and your pleas and I am but a slave to you. Never again shall we be separated, never again shall I let you face your challenges alone, never again shall you face enemies without my sword to cut them down.

And Rhaenyra understands, her own eyes locked into his’, her lips into a pleased smile and her eyes shining with the same thing he knows are reflected into his’. They are together once more, after so many years, so many hardships, so many joys and moments they did not share with each other, after such a devastating loss on his side, they are once more given a chance to build something together.

Laena taught Daemon to fight for love. To stay when things got rough, to think before acting, before speaking. His brave girl forced him to be better, to be worthy of her, and he cannot spit on her teachings, on the legacy their love built by returning to the same coward who ran when things didn’t go according to plan, who couldn’t face the depth of his true feelings.

This time Daemon will stay and this time he will fight for his love and for Rhaenyra, not with his fists and his swords, but with the even harder task of doing so with words and actions.

They have a family to protect, a family to build together.

Daemon leans against a dark corner of the hall, partially hidden by the shadows as he waits for his target to arrive. There is a downcast expression on his face as he muses over what he has learned on the last days, Rhaenyra’s pleas and Aemond’s words repeating themselves over and over again, familiar fury cursing through his veins at the idea of someone having the audacity to try to weaken his family, of his own blood being subjected to violence under their own f*cking roof.

As if he needed another reason to want to see that c*nt skinned alive.

Finally Otto turns the corner, coming from who knows where, and luckily for him there are no guards accompanying him and Daemon had made quick work of dismissing the Velaryon’s mens who had been standing guard.

It wouldn’t do for him to be exiled before he even had the chance to land on King’s Landing, Caraxes would be very upset over being separated from Syrax so early.

He gives the man no chance to react to his presence, as soon as he is close enough Daemon pounces shoving Otto against the wall with enough strength to knock his breath away and before he can recover Dark Sister is already unsheathed and pointed at his neck, close enough that a breath too deep will break skin.

Otto looks from the tip of the sword to his face with an expression of pure hatred, all masks of politeness and chivalry stripped bare. He knows very well that Daemon is not his brother to be fooled by his bullsh*t, that there is no need to pretend anything when there is just the two of them here, the man’s dark eyes bore in his violet ones, a sneer on his lips as he stands as still as a statue.

“Are you here to kill me, Prince Daemon?” The man spits out, contemptment clear as he mocks his title

“No.” He says simply, pushing Dark Sister just a bit, forcing Otto to suck a breath to avoid a cut “Not for lack of motive or want from my part of course, if I had my way you would have been rooting long ago, but unfortunately my brother is too much of a fool to see you as the c*nt and leech you are and my dear niece had a lapse of judgment and stopped me from doing the god’s work.”

“Then what is the meaning of this?” Otto hisses, voice low as to not push his throat against the sword at his neck “When have the wishes of others stopped Lord Flea Bottom from doing what he wanted?”

“I’m not the stupid simpleton you take me for Otto.” He uses the tip of the sword to push the man’s chin so that they are eye to eye “Your death, as satisfying as it would be, would cause an uproar with those who agree with you, I refuse to be the reason why they think of you as anything but the power hungry leech you are. When I kill you I want it to be after your utter humiliation, I will destroy everything you hold dear Otto, I will make you watch as all your plans turn to dust and then, when you are humiliated and shamed, then I will kill you.”

“You think you have any power?” The man’s lips twist into a mockery of a smile “Do tell me Prince Daemon who the King listens to? Whose words he has cherished and valued for all the years he has sat into the Iron Throne?”

“You talk a fair lot for a man at my mercy.” Daemon replies with a sneer “My brother is weak, has always been blinded by your manipulations, but you think that is enough to shield and protect you forever? Your plans are crumbling Otto and we both know it, do tell me then what power you have when your own grandchildren see you as the c*nt you are? When they declare their support for their sister, when they shed your green for Targaryen red and black?”

“My grandchildren are fools.” He replies and the anger in his eyes burns the green of envy “Alicent has done a poor job of preparing them for the future, but they are also young and soon enough they will open their eyes to the truth, this time I shall see to it myself.”

“Oh no, you wouldn't,” Daemon hisses. “Because I have talked with my little nephew and you have some guts to think you have any right to touch any of them. This ends now Otto, because if I see a single hair out of place on the head of any of those children then not even the gods themselves will be able to save you.”

“They are my grandchildren, you have no right to tell me what I can or can’t do.”

“And they are my nephews and niece.” The prince replies without missing a beat “They are Targaryens, they are ours. Your disgusting blood may run on their veins but they are dragons and you will stay the f*ck away from them if you have any love for your sorry excuse of a life. Do not rush your own death Otto.”

“That is what we will see my prince.” The man sneers back, teeth bared “You have been away for too long, you have no idea of what is happening in this realm.”

“You are a lucky motherf*cker that I will not tarnish my wife’s funeral with you, that I will not disrespect my girls’ mourning for the sake of your disgusting self, because if we were in any other situation I would have your tongue cut.” Daemon’s smile is all teeth. “See how you fare without being able to whisper your lies to my brother.”

“I have done nothing but serve the Crown and do what’s best for the Realm. It is not me who makes a mockery of decency and honor, who mingles with whor*s and disrespect the vows of marriage.”

“Honor! You speak of honor!” Daemon throws his head back in laughter “A power hungry c*nt who whor*s out his daughter to the king, who tries to push his grandson to be a usurper, who hits his own blood, speaking of honor!”

“You….”

But Daemon doesn’t let him get another word in. He takes Dark Sister off his neck to push it against his right cheek watching as blood drips as soon as he puts the minimum of pressure on the blade, Otto shuts his whor* mouth on the same instante breath stuck on his throat and eyes wide. The Valyrian steel makes a clean cut on his cheek, blood dripping from his face.

“Do not tell I have not warned you Otto, if I see a single hair out of place on those children, on any of them, you will wish that I had killed you right now.”

He waits for no answer, pulls Dark Sister back, blood coating the tip of the blade, and cleans it on the man’s clothes who is still frozen as blood drips from his face, before turning his back to him.

He has a family to take care of.

Chapter 9

Chapter Text

Their time at High Tide is not long, having the King away from the capital when the Hand is sick is not exactly a smart political move and Rhaenyra has her own duties as Crown Princess to attend to as well, the world doesn’t stop just because a dear person died and they must return to their usual routines before long.

The days leading to their departure are of no note, Otto, spotting a very suspicious bandage on his face that he refuses to explain how came to be and that make Daemon grin wildly everytime he sees it, keeps his distance from her and her family, sticking to Alicent’s side as Daemon monopolizes Viserys’ attention with tales of his adventures on the Free Cities, he is not subtle on the way he is keeping his brother away from the Hightowers but her father has missed him too much to even pretend to be upset over it.

At the end of the day Viserys will always love her and Daemon more than he loves anyone else in this world and as much as it pains her heart to use his love against him, they are at a point where no choice is left. If they must join the list of people using the King for their own benefit then so be it, the protection of her children comes before anything else.

The children bond with an easiness that flows her with both inmensurable love and also a tingle of pain. How close they all came from destroying those children, how much of a rift Rhaenyra had overlooked being built between them, how equally easy it would be for them to become bitter enemies consumed with the bitterness of the previous generations, she can almost see it when she looks at them playing together, can see the way Aegon, Helaena and Aemond would drift apart from her boys and the twins, how they clad into Hightower green would be poisoned to view them as enemies, how her boys and the girls would see her own distaste for the Queen, for Otto, and would inevitably follow on her footsteps, how they would be at odds with each other for the sake of their parents.

But not anymore, she vows to herself, as she watches the servants gather their things to the carriage who will take them to the ship at the first light, this is a future for her nightmares, for the dark moments in her mind, this is not what will happen. They will be better, they will fix what was broken within them, they will unite House Targaryen in the same vein they have almost broken it.

Aegon is crackling at one side of the courtyard, head thrown back in joy as he watches and eggs on Baela as she and Jace wrestle over something, the fierce little girl, absolutely her father’s daughter, trying to put her oldest in a chokehold as Jace squirms and shouts apologies over some perceived slight.

Luke is sitting with Helaena in another corner and they appear to be digging into the dirt to collect worms or some other bug and she silently despairs over the state of their hands and clothes when they get up, also hoping that they will leave their little findings behind, she can deal with the spiders just fine and the most exotic bugs are actually very interesting and some even manage to be pretty but it will be a hard task to pretend she is excited about worms of all things.

Aemond and Rhaena had become the closest of friends, and it also warms and breaks her heart as most things tend to do those times, as they bond over shared pains and struggles. But as they get to know each other they also discover more harmless shared interest, proved by the fact they are sitting close on the steps close to her, head dipped together as they read a book on the history of Driftmark that Lord Corlys had told they could take with them.

“Niece.” A voice whispers on her ear as a strong arm wrap itself around her shoulder

“Uncle.” She nods, turning to look at him, small smile playing on her lips “Everything ready for our departure?”

“Of course.” He replies “I’m very excited to show the wonders of the Keep to my girls, I can already predict the struggle of taking Rhaena out of the library.”

“And I’m sure the training yard will be very lively with Baela in it.” She points with her head in the direction that the girl is still winning against Jace, Aegon praising her skills to high heavens as Jace shoots him dirty looks in between pleading for her mercy “How long until she asks to be trained alongside the boys?”

“She has already asked yesterday, although asking would be put it kindly more like demanding to know when she will begin her training since Luke, who is younger than her, is already familiar with the blade, surely she must be of age to begin as well.” Daemon replies, smiling in the direction of the girl “Who is their instructor?”

“You will not want him near your girls, I can already tell you that.” She replies, lips turned down “Ser Criston Cole is their current instructor, but me and Harwin are working to have him replaced as he proved… uninterested in the well being of all children under his care.”

“f*cking sure I don’t want Crispin around my girls, let alone responsible for them in any capacity.” Daemon huffs, almost offended, switching to their ancient tongue. “I can get him replaced from all areas pretty fast if you want me to.”

“Daemon…” She starts with a sigh “You are talking about the Queen’s sworn sword.”

“Oh please Rhaenyra, he is no Otto to have any political advantage over us, sure the little green queen can like him as much as she wants but what does it matter? You don’t have to spell it to me for me to know he is being an asshole to you, or at least, to your children, why subject them to any more harm when there is an easy fix? Just say the word my queen.”

She shivers when he whispers the last words into her ear, voice dropped low so that no one else could hear. Heat licks inside her body, the urge to turn just a little bit more and claim his mouth, to replace the dull memories of that pleasure house with the fire of reality, it burns inside of her, this desire buried for so long, discharged as a fantasy now presenting itself as a possibility no matter how forbidden.

Gods is she cursed to only love men she cannot ever claim as her own?

Rhaenyra forces herself to breathe, to look him in the eyes rather than his mouth, but regret the decision very quickly when she sees his eyes dark with desire, with the same hunger that is nesting itself inside of her. His arms around her shoulders tighten and it’s only the castle full of people standing at her back that give her the strength to look back to Luke and Helaena, both holding worms in their hands now.

“You can’t just arrive in the castle and cut his head off.” She says at least “I don’t want you exiled again.”

“As my Crown Princess commands.” Daemon replies, and she doesn’t even have to look at him to know he is smiling ear to ear “I will wait until he steps on my foot.”

“You are a menace.” She laments, her own lips fighting against a smile “Like you wouldn’t do it without my permission anyway, just be smart about it.”

A part of her heart, filled with the bittersweet memories of a youth filled with laugh and easy camaraderie, clenches at what she has just given him encouragement to do. Criston Cole had been her sworn sword first, he had been the first man she took to her bed, he had been a friend once, someone she had cherished, it was him she thought off when she proposed the deal to Laenor, it was him who she imagined fathering her children.

How absolutely devastating how things turned out, how the relationship soured to the point she doesn’t even recognize the man standing around the queen. How the man who once swore to protect her is the one neglecting her sons, making them question the treatment they deserve.

It pains her in a way, because she knows Daemon, knows his temper and his quickness with the sword, knows she has just signed on the death of Criston Cole, but at the same time Rhaenyra is a mother before she is anything else and the knight is a treat to her children and as such she needs him gone.

“I don’t want him to suffer.” She says finally

“I can make it quick.” Daemon huffs, probably not really in agreement

They fall silent once more as more people start to leave the castle now carrying the belongings of the king and the people who will go with him, the arm around her shoulders leaving and taking it’s warm away, the king joining them soon enough with a smile on his lips as he claps Daemon on the shoulder, Alicent following him with a pinched expression as she sets her eyes on them, the kids also approaching feeling the moment to say their goodbyes.

Alicent smiles at her kids, something desperate on the way her eyes shine and as she goes to take Aemond’s hand her fingers are bloodied. The boy allows it, throwing his arms around her who melt, clinging to him with almost desperation, her words are muffled when she speaks, almost wet with tears.

“Come back with us, Aemond.” She almost begs “I have missed you so much my son, I have missed all of you dearly.”

“There is space for all of us on the ship.” Viserys says looking at her and Daemon, probably moved by her pain “Let’s return as a family.”

“Thank you for the offer father, but we will have to refuse.” Rhaenyra speaks, smiling as kindly as she can in both of their directions. “We will make a stop at Dragonstone but we will return to King’s Landing in a few weeks time.”

“But surely my children don’t have to accompany you.” Alicent says, still clinging to her son, his hands caressing her back in comforting motions “They can come back with us. Oh Aemond, please, you know how it pains my heart to be apart from all of you.”

“I promised Rhaena.” Aemond replies, and there is sadness in his voice as Alicent deflats at his words “She was with me when I claimed Vhagar and I promised I would be with her when she tried again. It will be alright mother, we will be back before you know it.”

“Aegon.” She turns her eyes to her oldest, reaching with a hand to hold him who looks utterly uncomfortable “There is much I wish to discuss with you my son, if your brother insists on leaving me alone, perhaps you and Helaena could come back with us, make up for lost time.”

Rhaenyra lips press themselves on a thin line when Aemond almost flinches at her words, and Aegon shifts on the spot, eyeing the way she grabs at his arm. If she puts any more strength, if he makes the slightest indication of being in pain she will rip them apart, respect for the queen and mother of the children be damned.

“We want to go with Rhaenyra, mother” Aegon says at least, not looking at her

“It will be good for them to know our ancient home, Alicent.” Viserys says at least when Helaena shifts so she is standing closer to Rhaenyra as well “And they will be with trusted members of the kingsguard and Daemon, no evil will fall upon them.”

By the way Alicent looks at Daemon, like he is the monster lurking in the shadows finally revealed, the fact that he will be with the children is exactly what she fears the most. Daemon doesn’t help his situation in any way, giving the queen a smile that is all teeth, leading to Rhaenyra to jab him in the ribs as discreetly as she can.

“We will look after them.” Rhaenyra speaks looking at Alicent and stepping so she is in front of Daemon “They are our blood and very dear to us. No ill will fall on them under my protection.”

Don’t you know me?, Rhaenyra wants to ask, don’t you value our former relationship even enough to not think of me as capable of butchering innocent children, children of my own blood?

Alicent doesn’t know Daemon, doesn’t know of his devotion to family, so Rhaenyra can understand the fear, her dear uncle has never made a point of building a reputation as someone trustworthy, but it stings very deeply how Alicent would think her capable of such acts of cruelty, capable of unleashing Daemon into their kin.

Has Alicent alienated her children so much, that even she doesn’t remember they are Targaryens too?

“Of course.” The Queen speaks, their eyes meet briefly before Alicent turns to look at her sons “I will anxiously wait for their safe return.”

“The little brats will love it.” Daemon can’t help but say moving so he can put a hand on Aegon’s shoulder, not very subtly pulling him out of Alicent’s grip to stand closer to them, the boy going willingly with just a questioning look to his older sister “All Targaryens should spend some time in our first home, connect with their roots, dragons aren’t made to be contained inside the Red Keep their whole lives.”

“My children are not brats.” Alicent retorts sounding offended, still hugging Aemond close to her

“All kids are brats.” Daemon laughs “It comes with the territory, all annoying, mouthy and needy brats and yet we love them all the same, gods know why.”

“Good to know you have such a high opinion of us, dad.” Baela huffs, giving him an unimpressed look

“I did say I still love you don’t I?” He replies easily

“I suppose we will understand it when we have our own children.” Rhaena says, a comforting hand on her sister’s shoulders

Daemon makes a face as if the mere idea of his girls being one day wed is enough to bring him much grief and Rhaena clearly realizes it as she hides a giggle, giving her sister a conspiratory look. Rhaenyra pities the poor souls who will one day try to wed the girls, she just knows Daemon will have Caraxes breathing on their necks just waiting for the first chance to turn some poor nobleman into roast meat.

“Children are a headache.” Viserys nods, giving Rhaenyra a conspiratory smile “I don’t remember giving my own father such grief in my youth, but I do suppose Daemon caused him so much stress that the gods thought I should help him pay for it with my own child.”

“Oh please.” The Rogue Prince snorts “Don’t act the part with me brother, I can call Cousin Rhaenys here to confirm some histories of your youth if you wish. You are wild, almost as much as me.”

“Father was wild?” Aegon asks, turning his neck to look into his uncle’s direction “Father?”

“Oh I have many stories about him, don’t worry nephew I will tell you all about it.” Daemon grins

“You will not do such a thing!” Viserys exclaims, but his eyes are shining with mirth “Don’t you dare corrupt my children with your nonsense.”

“Too late for that.” Daemon grins again and he looks behind Viserys when he speaks “I need to make up for lost time so I suppose I will need to spend a hefty amount of time with the kids.”

Rhaenyra turns lightly to see where Daemon is looking and is unsurprised but faintly amused to see Otto coming out the doors, his face pinching for half a second before he pulls on his mask of a friendly smile approaching them, Rhaenyra moves again so she is closer to Helaena, almost blocking her from the man’s view, her boys look at her and they too step closer to them, Luke coming to hold into her dress and she doesn’t even mind the fact that his hands are absolutely filthy putting a arm around his shoulders.

“Father.” Alicent is the first to greet him, the strained smile a sharp contrast to the relief in her shoulders

“Your Grace.” Otto says first to the king before giving Rhaenyra and Daemon an half assed bow of acknowledgment as he passes to stand next to Alicent, dropping a hand on Aemond’s shoulder “Alicent, dear. Is everything ready for our departure?”

“Yes.” Rhaenyra speaks before anyone else can “We are just talking about how good it will be to the children to get to know Dragonstone.”

“Oh? So my grandchildren are all going with you? I had hoped we would be able to spend some time together before returning to the capital. I have some gifts for them.” Otto says and he isn’t looking directly at her, his eyes focused on Alicent who refuses to turn to him staring straight ahead “It seems like I have spent so little time with them since arriving here.”

“I’m sure the gifts will still be there and the children will be even more eager to finally receive them when we go back to King’s Landing.” Rhaenyra replies, smile so fake she wonders if anyone could possibly fall to it

Like she is going to f*cking allow Otto to be alone with her siblings, she doesn’t care if she has to assign them new guards and instruct them to stay with them at all time, no matter who may try to dismiss them, as far as Rhaenyra is concerned Otto and even Alicent will be hard pressed to ever have a unbothered conversation with the children again.

“The children are all making good friends with each other.” Her father says, good humored “No wonder they have little time to spend with their elders, such is the joy of youth, all that energy!”

“I suppose so, Your Grace.” Otto smiles back “I can not blame my grandchildren for wanting to explore new places and meet new people, but I hope they will make some time for their old grandsire before my departure.”

“When will you leave?” Daemon questions, eyebrows arched “We will be in Dragonstone for a while, perhaps the timeline will not match.”

“Nonsense.” Viserys waves his hand away “Otto can stay for as long as he pleases, if you take longer than planned in Dragonstone then he can just extend his stay to wait.”

Rhaenyra wants to scream in frustration as Daemon grits his teeth and Otto sends them both an extremely smug smile. f*cking manipulative c*nt and his way of making Viserys bend backwards to listen to him and do as he wishes. The children as all silent as they watch the interactions, all of them coming closer to her and Daemon and even Aemond looks uncomfortable in his mother’s arms now that Otto is holding into him, it takes a lot of self control from Rhaenyra to not just pull the boy out of their grips and into her arms.

“That is very kind of you, Your Grace, and I will humbly accept the offer.” Otto turns to smile at the king “It will please me very much to spend more time with my daughter and get caught up on what’s happened in my abstinence, much has changed and the children are all grown now, I must get up to date with their new tastes and interests.”

“They grow up so fast don’t they?” Viserys shakes his head “It’s almost as if you blink and they turn into completely different persons!”

Rhaenyra just particularly thinks that her father just doesn't bother to spend enough time with the kids, so he misses their evolution and when he does pay enough attention to notice the changes that happened over the course of a long time for him it looks like an abrupt change. She has never looked at her boys and thought they looked completely different.

“They truly do, I feel like I don’t even recognize them.” The way Otto smiles down at Aemond makes her skin crawl. “I will enjoy getting to know the fine young men and young lady they are becoming.”

"Where's Laenor?” Rhaenyra asks, making a show of looking around “I’m afraid we must leave soon.”

As if the gods heard her silent pleading Laenor takes this moment to cross the doors of the castle with his parents and very few times before has Rhaenyra ever felt so relieved to see him. He looks better, or at least not as awful as he did the previous days, his complexion is not as ashen and he even manages to give the boys a genuine smile when they run to him.

“I’m here, my dear wife.” He smiles at her as well, going to stand at her side and making a show of giving her a kiss on the head “Is everything ready?”

“Yes, my dear husband.” She replies, pretending to not see Daemon rolling his eyes at her other side “We are just waiting for you as we said our goodbyes to my father. Aemond, say goodbye to your mother and grandfather sweetling, we must go.”

The boy doesn’t need to be told twice, he just murmurs something to his mother, doesn’t even bother to look at Otto before practically running to her side, clinging to her on the opposite side of Luke, and she instinctively holds him as well, glaring daggers ar Otto as if daring him to say something. Alicent watches them with wounded eyes but Rhaenyra tries her best to shield Aemond for her expression, turning the boy in the direction of his siblings

The girls go hug their grandparents goodbye as well, and if Corlys and Rhaenys hold onto them and into Laenor for longer than is proper then no one would ever be so cruel as to say something. Viserys offers to accompany them to the port and wait for the departure of their own ship and Rhaenyra for the sake of politeness has to agree even if that means prolonging the time she has to stay next to Otto. It’s a short distance and she loses herself listening to the children excited whispers of what they expect to find in their ancient home, wondering what secrets they may be able to find from generations past, she smiles remembering her own excitement of discovering the beauties of Dragonstone when she was a little girl.

Their dragons wait for them at the port as well, gathering a considerable quantity of onlookers despiste the early hour and the children are the first to run to their mounts as if they had spend moons apart instead of only a incredibly short amount of time, Rhaenyra rolls her eyes fondly also making her way to pet Syrax, let her spoiled girl grown jealous. Caraxes, who is flying high in the skies on the moment of their arrival descends to the ground with surprising speed letting out his characteristic whistle-like sound and Daemon grins as well approaching his dragon.

They had decided against going on dragonback for the sake of the children, Joffrey just a babe of few moons, Luke, Jace and Baela with too young dragons, Rhaena still in search of her own, and Rhaenyra was absolutely against the idea of her siblings flying by themselves, they don’t know the way for one, following their ship or not dragons are fickle and it would take just one moment of inattention for a tragedy or for them to be lost, besides Aemond has just bonded with his dragon, Rhaenyra is not letting his first long distance fly happen unaccompanied and without the proper equipment.

“She is so big!” Luke exclaims looking at Vhagar “How do you get on the saddle?”

“It’s not really that hard.” Aemond smiles, caressing Vhagar and looking almost comically tiny next to her “It’s just using the ropes really, the hard part is staying in the saddle when she takes to the sky.”

“A problem that will be solved with the proper equipment.” Daemon says, also approaching the dragon with careful steps but Vhagar allows him to touch her without any signals of protest “There should even be something on Dragonstone you can use while we get something fitted to you.”

“Really?”

“You are not flying on some questionable, the gods know how old, equipment that has been laying around in the castle!” Rhaenyra cuts in immediately, giving Daemon an exasperated look “That is barely any safer than riding without anything!”

“But sister…” Aemond turns to pout at her, eyes wide and pleading

“Listen to her, boy.” Viserys says with a chuckle also approaching the dragon but a sharper look from Vhagar stops him before he can actually reach her, his eyes melancholic as he looks at the massive body “You claimed the oldest dragon alive, that is both an honor and a duty to be carried with all the necessary responsibility. I remember when Balerion was still alive, nothing in this world can compare to what it will feel to you when you fully bond and understand a dragon who has outlived so many of your ancestors, the power they carry within themselves is something goodly. Take your time, son, she will wait for you, do not make me and your sister worry.”

“Alright father.” Aemond nods at both his father and his sister “When we come back to the Red Keep can you tell me more about Balerion?”

Rhaenyra will lose it on her father if he gives the wrong answer, she swears to the gods that if he is able to look at the hopeful expression on Aemond’s face, childlike and full of excitement making him look his age for once, the way he bites his lips after the question as if unsure of himself, if he can look at his own child so hopeful and afraid of rejection and shatter his attempts of getting his attention she cannot be expected to remain composed.

“Only if you tell me more about Vhagar.” Viserys says with a light smile on his face “So we can compare the similarities and differences between them.”

“Yes!” The boy exclaims, a smile blossoming on his own face unbidden “I would love it, father!”

How absolutely starved of attention those children are, she thinks again heart hurting for them. She looks at Aegon and Helaena and the downcast expression on their young faces break her heart all over again, the quiet resignation in Aegon’s eyes as he nuzzles his head against Sunfyre, the dragon moving as if trying to hug him, the almost jealousy flashing just for a few moments, the way Helaena looks down at her own hands, Dreamfyre standing almost protectively over her casting a shadow on the girl.

They want your love too, she thinks to her father, they want your attention. How hard can it be to pay attention to all of their children? Rhaenyra and Laenor bend themselves backwards to spend equal amounts of time with their boys, to take time to listen to them and do things they know they enjoy one on one, is her own father truly incapable of paying attention to all his childrens? Can he just pay attention when they, the literal f*cking children, are brave enough to try to take the first step? To engage him with something he cares about?

She knows Aegon is a great dragonrider with a very strong bond with his own dragon, that Helaena was able to bond with a known temperamental dragon all on her own when she was very young, did their father ever paused one moment to praise them for it?

Rhaenyra presses her lips into a thin line, only worsened when Otto makes an attempt to approach them as well, leaving the carriage at long last.

“You managed to obtain truly a majestic animal, Aemond” The man says, clever eyes going from Vhagar’s massive figure to the others dragon's much smaller stature “She will serve you well in the future.”

“Vhagar is not an animal.” The young boy replies, frowning at his grandfather “She is a dragon.”

“And is there a difference?” Alicent questions, she remains further away giving all the dragon nervous glances “Do you truly need to stand so close? Look at the size of it!”

“Of course there is a difference!” Daemon says instead, absolutely offended “Dragons are much more than any simpleton animal.”

“It’s perfectly safe for Aemond to be as close to his dragon as she wishes, Your Grace” Laenor says diplomatically, cutting Daemon before he can descend into the rant they could feel coming “Vhagar would never hurt him.”

“After the last tragedy can you be certain?” The woman replies back, hands clasped into her chest

The temperature drops as soon as the words are out of her mouth and even Alicent herself widens her eyes as if registering what was just said. Both Daemon’s and Laenor’s expressions close, Daemon looking ready to unsheath Dark Sister at a moments notice, hands on the sword already and Laenor’s usually laughing eyes grown cold, his mouth a hard line.

“Forgive my daughter.” Otto says as soon as he notices the changes, stepping forward more “She is just a worried mother who has been away from her children and facing the prospect of even more distance between them, she is worried and not thinking about her words.”

“I… Oh gods I’m sorry, I was not thinking.” Alicent repeats “I never meant to… I’m so sorry, I’m just worried about my son.”

“Of course” Rhaenyra forces the words out, one hand on Daemon’s arm and the other on Laenor’s shoulders just in case “It was just a most unfortunate comment with no malice to it.”

“But Aemond will be careful wouldn’t he?” Otto says, continuing to walk forward “He is a dutiful son and he will not want to make his poor mother worry herself sick for his sake.”

A mother’s job is to worry. Rhaenyra thinks almost furiously, it’s her job to worry about her children, to look after them and make sure they are safe and happy, it’s not their duty to cater to her, kids will be kids, they will be reckless and adventurous and they will get themselves in all manner of trouble and that is how they learn, that is how they grow, not be being afraid of doing things just for the sake of not causing worry.

Before she can step forward herself, put a barrier between her brother and Otto, Vhagar acts for her. The dragon lowers her head, smoke coming out of her nose as a grown make it’s way out of her throat, something threatening that makes all the common folk gathered at a safe distance step even further back, the other dragons also growing agitated as if her emotions unsettled them.

Otto is clever enough to feel the eye Vhagar’s eyes are fixed on him and stops his movements, a aborted attempt to reach Aemond and grab his shoulder. The young prince turns to mutter something to Vhagar, asking her to calm in High Valyrian.

But Vhagar doesn't sound interested in being calm.

The massive dragon bares her teeth, as big as a man grown, and the breath she sends in Otto’s direction is strong enough to send the man stumbling a few steps back almost falling, her eyes are locked on him, far too knowing for anyone's comfort as she lowers her head even more, laying it on the ground so she can muzzle, as much as being her size is able, her new rider, with such a amount of care that it doesn't even disturb him. Aemond pets her massive snout, whispering something too low for them to understand, Vhagar only licks her lips, eyes frozen in Otto as the man puts more distance between them.

"I don't think she likes you very much" Daemon’s smile is so big it nearly splits his face in two "Clever girl!"

“Dragons are very temperamental beings.” Rhaenyra agrees with a smile of her own “I don’t think it would be wise of you to approach more, it would be such a shame if something happened.”

Daemon chuckles at the way Rhaenyra doesn’t even try to pretend she is dying for Otto to take just another step in Aemond's direction, surely they cannot be expected to avoid tragedy should Vhagar decide to make a roast of him. But unfortunately Otto is not a stupid man and he retreats until he is once more standing next to his daughter, sending cautious looks towards Vhagar who is still staring at him.

“I think it’s best if we go.” Laenor speaks, giving Otto an considering look “The sooner we arrive at Dragonstone the sooner we can return to King’s Landing after all.”

Rhaenyra makes a mental note to take a few moments after they get aboard the ship to get Laenor caught up on what has happened in recent times, it will probably do him good to focus on something other than his loss and she will need all the help she can get if she wants to take out the treats to her family by the roots, Otto is the figurehead and probably the main mastermind behind it all, but she cannot risk making him a martyr for his cause. She will have him killed, but she must be clever about it.

They say their goodbyes again and when they are already on the ship, their dragons flying above them, it’s like an invisible weight is taken off all of their shoulders.

It infuriates Rhaenyra to no end that she must be on guard on the presence of her own father, that she must measure her words and her actions, that she will have to teach her children to do the same, that despite everything they have done to protect and shield them there are poisonous tongues speaking against them, using a funeral to make digs at the Crown Princess as if she is a nobody.

Jacaerys is a Targaryen, he is the firstborn of the Crown Princess and the Iron Throne will be his after her passing as it’s his right. The claim to the throne is her’s, it matters nothing who is Jacaery’s father when his mother is the Heir to the Iron Throne.

And Lucerys is a Velaryon in name and in soul even if not in blood, her sweet boy worships the ground that Corlys walks on, he has been claimed by Laenor as his and raised as such, when he is older he will be trained to rule just like his father was, he will maintain the values of House Velaryon.

She stays watching the port disappear in the distance as Laenor and Daemon guide the children to their temporary rooms, their arguments over who will be sharing with who fading as they walk down the stairs, remains there until she can’t see the figures who stayed behind, until the wetness on her eyes can be explained by the cold winds.

Rhaenyra wishes, not for the first and more likely not for the last time, that this burden did not belong to her.

They are on the second day of their trip when Rhaenyra knocks on the door of Aegon’s room. The older prince had claimed the only single room for himself on the grounds of being the oldest and the fact that he ran faster than his siblings, cousins and nephews and managed to lock himself inside long enough for them to tire themselves out and go in search of other arrangements.

Rhaenyra wonders, amused, if anyone is supposed to buy the fact that the younger children had not found themselves trilled over the fact that they get to share rooms and have a glorified sleepover the whole time they spend on the sea. The boys especially are not as quiet as they think themselves to be, and Rhaenyra is far too soft on them to let them know that anyone could hear the sound of their laughter, the girls bless their hearts are quieter and much better at pretending they went to sleep but they have not yet noticed that if they want to eat sweets they do need to get rid of the evidences later, and even if she did ensue a no sweets rule for Rhaena after the stunt with Vhagar she is willing to pretend she doesn’t know about it, it’s good to see the little girl smile, to see her open herself instead of drawing in her grief.

But Aegon is different, older for once in that very particular age where he is not yet a man grown but is also too old to think himself allowed to indulge in childish joys, and more importantly (or tragically) it’s Aegon who carries the burden of being the living, talking, challenge to Rhaenyra.

She remembers how desperately her father had wanted a male heir when she was young, how overjoyed he had been when Aegon was born, how he would dote on the little boy and show him off to anyone who spend any amount of time on his presence, boasting to the whole Keep when he said his first words, when he took his first steps.

She remembers how jealous she had been.

How Rhaenyra looked at the babe with his soft silver hair and thought only about the babe who died with her mother, about all the little boys Aemma had not been able to bring to this world. How she looked at the toddler and saw the child her father had craved his whole life, the missing piece, the one who he thought would be better, would be more, than herself ever could, she saw the little usurper who came to take away the only parent she had left.

She had hated him and she hopes, from the bottom of her heart that Aegon doesn’t know about this, that he was too little to remember the way she refused to hold him, would ignore his attempts to babble at her and side step when he tried to hold onto her, that he can’t remember the way she would leave a room anytime he entered it. She can’t pinpoint the moment where her baby brother stopped seeking her out, where he gave up on trying to get her attention, stopped raising his arms to be picked up by her, stopped looking at her with pleading eyes, but she remembers how relieved that made her.

Guilt threatens to swallow her whole now. What fault did Aegon have? It was her father who choose to marry her best friend, it was no one’s fault that Alicent had been able to birth a healthy babe on the first try, he was just a babe who didn’t understand the tension within his family, he was a little child craving for affection and Rhaenyra denied it to him because of her own issues, because she couldn’t take it out on Alicent, because if she took it out on her father then she was afraid she would lose him, because she knew that she could take it out on him and he could do nothing about it.

How different would things be if she had seen clarity before? If she had directed her rage and her betrayal to the right people? She thinks back at Aegon looking at her with teary eyes practically begging to not be hurt, she thinks about him with a bruise on his face and bitterness in his eyes saying that no one ever cared about him, thinks about the way their father was willingly blind to his existence, acting nothing like a father.

Rhaenyra wonders when things had changed, when her father stopped looking at Aegon like he was a gift from the gods, when her father turned into this stranger who would barely spare a moment to look at his own son, to see his suffering, to see the snakes trying to poison his mind.

If she didn’t stumble upon Aemond that day at the Dragon Pit what would become of those children?

They are her siblings. This is her baby brother and she lost thirteen years of his life, first because she was too bitter and then because she prioritized everything else, because she gave up on trying with them, because she never stopped to think that perhaps they needed her.

She can’t turn back the clock, she can’t undo the actions of her young self, but she can make changes now, she can become the sister she should have been from the beginning and hope that Aegon can forgive her.

She knocks a second time before the door opens to reveal the boy, clad into simple black clothing they had purchased at Driftmark because he owned very little non green clothing and had refused to wear those anyway. He smiles when he sees her, wider when his eyes land on the tray of small cakes she is holding and steps aside to allow her entrance.

“Sister, to what I owe the pleasure of your presence?”

“I want to talk to you.” Rhaenyra replies easily entering the room and putting the tray in a empty small desk besides his bed

“Why?”

“Because you are my baby brother and yet I know little to nothing about you.” She admits, a sad smile on her lips “We are supposed to be a family, not strangers who share a House, and the way to achieve that goal is to get to know one another.”

“Oh.” Aegon frowns, taking a seat on his bed and looking at her “And how do we do that?”

“We just talk, Aegon.” She smiles at him, taking a seat at his side. “We spend time together and we talk.”

“But what if I say the wrong thing?”

“Aegon…” Her expression falls, a hand automatically reaching to hold one of his “There is no right or wrong thing to be said, this isn’t a test, I want to know my brother and I want you to know me as well, that’s it.”

“But…” The boy starts but never finishes, his eyes drifting to their hands

“But?” She incentives him

“Nothing.” He shakes his head “It’s stupid.”

“I don’t think so.” She shakes her head “Why would anything you say to me be stupid? I want to hear what you have to say, little brother, even the silliest things.”

“What if you don’t like who I am?”

“What?”

His words send a wave of pain and shock to the deep of her heart, Rhaenyra’s expression falling automatically as her brother’s whispered words seem to reverberate in the room, his eyes stubbornly focused on the point of contact between them. They stay silent for a few moments before he sighs and speaks again.

“What if you get to know me and don’t like who I am? What if I’m not enough?” He repeats “I like you, sister. I like spending time together and I like the moments where we can pretend nothing is wrong and our only worry is what game we will play next. I don’t want to lose it, I don’t want to lose you or Jace or Luke. I don’t want to f*ck it up like I f*ck everything and make you regret wasting your time with me.”

“Aegon, why wouldn’t I like you?” She asks, almost hopelessly, “You have done nothing but be a sweet, funny, caring little brother, I cannot think of a single thing that could make me dislike, let alone hate you.”

“Well, it’s not like anyone else likes me.” He chuckles, humorlessly “Father can barely remember my existence, the only thing I do is disappoint mother, I can never do the right thing in her eyes and grandfather couldn’t care less about me, the only thing that matters to him is the fact that he thinks he can use me to get the throne and he hates the fact that I’m not the perfect puppet he wants. So there has to be something wrong with me right? Because father loves you dearly, and mother cares about Aemond so much and even in his own way grandfather clearly favors Helaena, they are capable of loving, they just can’t love me.”

It breaks her heart into a million pieces to hear those words.

Rhaenyra wants to scream, wants to weep, she wants to turn back time and do everything differently, she wants to slap her younger self for the choices she made. In front of her is a boy of only three and ten, a child in all ways still, and yet he sits there speaking of himself as someone unlovable, questioning his worth, afraid that he will push her away by simply being himself.

Has no one ever held this boy and told him they loved him? Has no one ever shown him by their gestures that he is the most important thing in the world? Rhaenyra never doubted her parents’ love, not even when she and her father are arguing, when grief tore them apart, not once she doubted that he loved her the best he could, and she hopes from the bottom of her soul that her boys have never doubted the love she holds for them, she does everything in her power to show them everyday that they are her treasure, that they matter to her more than anything else in this world.

Rhaenyra pulls Aegon to her arms, holding him like he will shatter if she lets go and the boy clings to her back.

“I wish he loved me.” He weeps on her shoulder “I wish I could do something, anything, to make him want to spend time with me too, to praise me for something, but nothing I do is ever enough, he never even looks in my direction. Grandfather goes on and on talking about how father always wanted a son, so what is wrong with me Rhaenyra? What is so wrong with me, that even being the son he wished for, he can’t love me? I just want him to try with me too.”

“There is nothing wrong with you.” She says back, a hand caressing his hair “Oh Aegon, there is nothing wrong with you sweetling. I don’t know what is going through father’s head, I can’t explain to you why he does what he does, but I can tell you that you are not the problem. You are a child Aegon, his child, and it’s not your duty to earn his love, a parent’s love should never be earned, it is something to be given freely and if our father cannot do this, then he is the one with a problem.”

“Mother said I should be more like Aemond, that I should try harder, do better, pay more attention to lessons, and put more effort into listening to what grandfather says. Isn’t a son’s duty to bring pride to their parents? To listen to them? Mother says she loves me, but I don’t feel like she does, she never yells at Helaena or Aemond, she never… she never hits them.” He laughs wetly at her shoulder again “You say a parent’s love should be freely given, but isn’t this another proof that I am the problem? Father loves you and mother loves Aemond.”

“The relationship between your mother and Aemond is not something to strive to have either, sweetling.” Rhaenyra sighs, putting more strength into the hug “You are right that a child should strive to listen to their parents but only when their parents ask reasonable things out of them, you should not sacrifice yourself and your happiness for the sake of earning a parent’s love, there is much one must sacrifice for duty, many times you will forsake your happiness for the sake of the greater good, but never, ever should your mother’s love for you be dependent on that.”

Rhaenyra has sacrificed much for the sake of her duty. She has accepted a marriage where neither party will ever be able to love each other as husband and wife, has given up on much of her freedom for the sake of playing politics, has had to bite her tongue and lower her head and bear the accusations and the whispered gossip and put a smile on her face like she doesn’t know those people are just waiting for her downfall. A life in the royal family is a life of duty.

But Aegon is three and ten and he should never be thinking about those things. Should never be so firmly believing that he must earn his parent’s love by doing what they want for him.

Rhaenyra cannot think of ever stopping loving her boys, can’t think of how it’s possible for someone to only love a child when said child does what they want.

She pulls back just a little, enough so that she can put her hands on Aegon’s face and incline his head enough that they are making eye contact. Her little brother is so young. She looks at him and she cannot help but remember the little babe reaching his little arms to be held by her, his eyes are still the same soft shade of lilac, his hair is different now, not as straight as it was when he was younger, but his face has yet to go through the changes that mark the beginning of adulthood.

Rhaenyra looks at him and she wonders, pained beyond belief, when has anyone ever bothered to listen to him. When has someone offered him a warm hug and space to share his fears, when was the last time Aegon has felt safe to show his suffering if the bare minimum from her part, just the tiniest bit of affection and care, are enough to expose the cracks, to make him unable to hide anything from her, to open himself and expose such an onslaught of insecurities and fears.

“You are enough Aegon. You are lovable and you are good enough, you are so much more than what your f*cker of a grandfather and mother expect of you. If they can’t see the amazing person you are, if they can’t cherise you as you deserve then it’s their loss, it’s them who have a problem, it’s them who should revalue everything about themselves.” She makes sure to not break eye contact “And none of them are ever putting a hand on you again, I’m sorry I was not there for you before, I’m sorry I have not been the sister I should, but I’m here now, sweet brother, and I intend to make up for the lost time.”

Aegon just nods, his eyes filled with tears that she wipes away as gently as she could, almost as if he would break if she put anymore pressure into his skin, he moves forward to hide his face into her neck and she lets him, saying nothing more, just holding him until the tears stop. It’s only when Aegon pulls back, wiping his own face, cheeks red maybe from crying or from embarrassment she can’t know, that she lets go of him.

“That was… a lot.” He murmurs, scratching the back of his head not looking at her face “So that is one thing for you to know about me, I’m apparently a crybaby. And that’s one thing for me to know about you, you give the best hugs.”

“Well that’s good to know, I will make sure to put this very important piece of information in my list of qualities.” She smiles kindly at him, patting his hand

“You should try fixing more issues with hughes.” Aegon says, nodding solemnly, “They are so good I’m pretty sure you could get whatever you wanted with them.”

“I will keep it in mind, guess I know what to do next time Lord Bessbury starts getting upset over whatever costly thing is suggested by the council.” She nods, equally as serious “Do you think Grand Maester Mellos would be open for a hug? No man that uptight can be particularly happy.”

They stare at each other in complete silence, faces as serious as they can, until Aegon can hold it back anymore and falls into a fit of laughter and Rhaenyra finally joins him, something about the mental image of her hugging the two men too comical and absurd to resist.

“Can you imagine their faces?” Aegon asks still laughing

“They would think I have gone mad.” Rhaenyra agrees “But it would probably be worthy just for their reaction. Maybe we should think of a possible scenario where that would pass as an appropriate action.”

“Tell Lord Bessbury that father wants to build a real life size version of his model of Valyria, he would probably ask for the hug.” Her little brother suggests

“Bold of you to assume he would not simply die on the spot such would be his indignation.” She chuckles, getting up to retrieve the until then forgotten tray of sweets “Now, there is a very important piece of information I must know, what is your favorite flavor of cake?”

“Fruit cake, with sugar on top.” Aegon says, already reaching for said sweet “The absolute best.”

“A worthy option I suppose.” Rhaenyra nods, reaching for a lemon cake herself “But not nearly as good as a lemon cake.”

“Why would you want a sour dessert?” He asks, mouth full

“Don’t speak with your mouth full.” Rhaenyra chastises him with an eye roll “And it’s exactly the mixture of sweet and sour that makes them so delicious, I for one don’t want to eat pure sugar.”

“I wouldn’t mind eating pure sugar.” Aegon shrugs, taking another bite of his cake

“Of course you have a sweet tooth.” Rhaenyra shakes her head fondly “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”

“I’m not sure if I should take that as an insult.” Aegon squints in her direction, crumbles of cake on his chin

“You take it as you wish, little brother.” Rhaenyra smiles at him, moving a hand to clean his face “Honestly you are messier than Luke, have some manners.”

“Sorry.” Aegon just shrugs, not looking particularly chastised but he does dust the crumble of his clothes as well and when he reaches for another sweet he takes a smaller bite “But those are really good, where did you get them?”

“I asked the kitchen at Driftmark to prepare some snacks for the voyage, I took a guess at what everyone would want and may have gone a bit overboard so we will be having dessert even with your fast.”

“Even Aemond and Jace?” He asks, his eyes amused

“Absolutely not.” Rhaenyra huffs, putting a hand over her chest “They will be lucky if they get a piece of cake on their next nameday.”

“And here I thought they were supposed to be the responsible ones.” Aegon chuckles and shakes his head “Mother would have lost her mind if she knew what really happened. The watered down version almost made her faint, she would have bitten our heads off, probably blame for not not looking after the twat.”

“Your brother is not a twat, Aegon.” Rhaenyra says, patting him in the hand “And what your mother doesn’t know can’t hurt her, everyone has some moments they make questionable decisions and you know how important having a dragon was to him, they all just had… rather worrying lapse of judgment, that I hope they never suffer from again.”

“Yes, he is a twat.” Aegon scowls, looking down “He is always going on and on about our duties, about listening to mother and trying to do what she wishes so that we don’t make things worse for her, whatever that means. He isn’t even grown yet and he still is always just trying to make me be someone I’m not, I bet even he doesn’t like me.”

“Aemond loves you.” Rhaenyra disagrees automatically “You know it was him who asked me for help, but he didn’t come for me asking for help for himself Aegon, he wanted me to protect you and Helaena. Have you considered that all his nagging is his way of trying to protect your mother and you from Otto’s anger the only way he knows how?”

“Oh.” Aegon says, softly, still looking down “He never said it.”

“Have you ever said you loved him?”

“No, I guess.” Aegon shrugs “I just… I’m not really a good brother for him and Helaena, am I?”

“I think you are worried about your own struggles and have not realized that your siblings have their own problems.” Rhaenyra says kindly “And have acted unkindly towards them for that, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be a good brother now or that all is lost, you are all so young Aegon, there is so much time for you to forgive each other and become the sort of siblings you wish to be.”

“You really think they will want me to be their brother?”

“Of course!” Rhaenyra reassures him with a smile “Do you want to be their brother?”

“Yes. I love them, you know, even if Helaena is weird and Aemond is a little stick in the mud, they are my siblings and I love them.” Aegon nods, his next words very quiet “I love Daeron too, I miss him.”

“Then show it to them, and I’m sure you will be surprised by how much they love you back.” The princess take his hand in her’s when he speaks about the youngest prince “I think it’s very natural to miss Daeron, I would like to get to know him as well.”

“You will love him.” Aegon smiles “He is a lot like Luke I guess, or at least he was when he was taken to Oldtown, just this little ball of energy, always wanting to play and discover new things, he loved to read as well. I hope they give him lots of books, he could only fall asleep while reading.”

Rhaenyra feels a pang in her heart as Aegon speaks so fondly of Daeron. If Rhaenyra is honest with herself she doesn’t even remember the boy’s face, her own little brother and she probably would only be able to identify him by the silver hair and lilac eyes, absolutely unable to recall his features much less the shade of his eyes. Daeron was born very close to Luke and at that point her relationship with Alicent had already shattered beyond salvation and previous experiences told Rhaenyra that her attempts at getting to know the baby would not be welcome so she never bothered to try.

Now, getting to know the sort of treatment her siblings have been getting, the lies they have been fed, there is a nagging worry on the back of her mind about Daeron, alone in Oldtown surrounded by vipers. By the gods, of all four children he is the one spending more time with Otto in the man’s own home, where people are even less likely to stand up for him had the need arrive.

There has to be a way to get the little boy back, Rhaenyra just needs to find it.

“He sounds absolutely amazing.” She smiles at him “I will think of a way for us to meet okay? I want to get to know him too.”

“I would love that, very much.” Aegon nods, eyes shining with excitement “He will love to meet you, I’m sure of it!”

“Good, we are on the same page then.” Rhaenyra moves to tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear, giving a pause before speaking “Don’t take this the wrong way little brother, but I do have to ask, how exactly are you washing your hair?”

“Are you calling my hair ugly?” He asks, face shifting to something deeply offended

“I’m calling your hair dry.” She corrects still holding the strand between her fingers and pulling it to show him the ends

“I just use soap when I’m taking a bath.” He answer like that is the most normal answer in the world

“Soap.” Rhaenyra deadpans

“Yes?” The boy frowns at her, like she is not making any sense “What’s wrong with it? It smells good and it’s made to clean.”

“Aegon soap is made to clean your skin, not your hair.” The woman replies, baffled “You are supposed to use other types of products to wash and finalize your hair, especially you who has curls.”

“I have curls?”

“Yes?” Rhaenyra asks, even more baffled “Have you never stopped to notice that your hair is not straight?”

“Oh.” He stops, face deep into thought “Now that you talked about it, it kind of makes sense. But what do you mean I have to finalize my hair? Now you are just making sh*t up.”

“Oh gods.” Rhaenyra sighs, shaking her head “The first thing we will do when arriving at Dragonstone is getting you some actual products to use in your hair and then I will teach you how to properly care for it.”

“I’m not a little kid who needs to be taught how to wash my hair alone.” He protests, offended like only a teenager can be

“Well you at least need to know which product to use.” She rolls her eyes “I’m not going to give you a bath, but someone needs to tell you how to do it correctly. You don’t want to walk around with dry hair, do you?”

“I guess I wouldn’t mind learning.” He murmurs after a while, looking at anywhere but at her

“Good!” Rhaenyra pats his hand picking a small sweet and almost pushing it into his mouth “Now eat, you are too thin, you need some fat in you.”

Aegon gives her the most baffled look in existence but he does eat the offered treat and she smiles at him, trying to hide how this talk pained her heart.

Alicent should have taught him that. She should have looked at her son and told him how to take care of himself, how to make sure his hair is getting the care it needs, being a mother is not just bringing a child into the world and giving him the bare minimum, is paying attention to the small things, is making sure they have the things they never thought about asking for.

A shared youth taught Rhaenyra how Alicent used to take care of her hair, if she is correct then it shouldn’t be hard to tweak with it enough for it to fit a teenager boy who if left to his own devices would probably skip as many baths as he could get away with it.

She wasn’t there for her little brother before, but he has her now and Rhaenyra swears to herself that she will make up for the lost time.

Chapter 10

Chapter Text

Laenor has always loved the sea.

It comes with being born to the famous Sea Snake he supposes, most of his early memories are about the sea in many ways, playing in the beach under the watchful eyes of his mother, collecting shiny rocks to give to her only to see the smile light up her face, learning how to swim with his father, the man taking time off his day to be the one to teach him rather than pawn off the responsibility to someone else, the days spend in boats, sometimes not even to travel, just the moments his father would take him and a simple ship and go away just them, learning how to sail, how to watch the sky and understand it, understand the wind and the water.

He loves flying, would never give it up for anything, couldn’t ever imagine a life without Seasmoke by his side, but Laenor is his father’s son in many ways and his connection to the sea is the most obvious one.

It was Laena who loved the skies as if she was born to live there.

Mother would take Laena flying with her anytime it was possible, her sister’s egg unfortunately never hatched but Laena, beautiful, spirited Laena just took it to mean that her dragon was waiting for her somewhere else and when she first heard about Vhagar it was like a fire started burning inside of her, a connection formed before the two even saw each other for the first time.

Laenor knew, deep in his bones just as he knew Seasmoke was his’, that when Laena left in search of Vhagar that she would come back as a dragonrider, had never bothered to fear for her.

He watches Vhagar flying over their ship, so much bigger than the other dragons that they all avoid getting too close to her lest they be knocked back by the wind caused by her wings, and tears burn in the back of his eyes.

Laena longed for Vhagar from the moment she learned of her existence, fought tooth and nail for the opportunity to try to claim her as her own, went against the advice of every single person, claimed the oldest dragon in the world and rode almost every single day ever since. He also knows, deep inside his body, that Laena had the death she desired.

His sister, his brave, courageous, daring sister, would never settle for a bloody death during childbirth, she would never wish to lay there and let men cut her open to try to save a babe who may not even be alive anymore.

Laenor would never make that decision for Rhaenyra. Would never pick that option unless she was the one to tell him to, knows easily enough that Harwin, the father of the babe she would be carrying, would not either. The idea of hearing her screams as they cut her, of seeing blood gush without anyone trying to stop it, makes him sick.

He wonders what Daemon would have chosen if Laena had not taken matters in her own hands. He is afraid to ask.

But knowing she died on her own terms, the death she chose for herself, does not make the pain in his chest go away.

Laena was his other half. It was her who knew him and his secrets even before he gathered enough courage to babble them to her one night after too many cups and the taste of Joffrey’s lips still lingering as if branded in his soul. His sister who looked at a world who dared to underestimate her and refused to bowl down, who took what she wanted, who she wanted, and refused to be ashamed of it, who loved deeply, who he hopes was loved just as deeply, who left behind two little girls who will miss so much just for not having her.

He wishes they had spent more time together, he wishes he had sent more letters, he wishes he had taken the boys to visit her, he wishes he had gone to see his nieces more frequently, he wishes… He wishes many things, none of them possible.

Laenor sighs trying to drown regrets and pain with the smell of the sea alone, still feeling chilled after that afternoon he spent on the sea numb to everything until Qarl dragged him away with too tender touches and whispered words meant for his ears only, wonders what’s the point? What’s the point of him continuing here when his sister is gone, when she was the light of Daemon's life, when she has two beautiful girls who need her so badly, when he is, what? A stand-in husband to Rhaenyra, someone who could never give her what she craves or even what she needs. Laena left a hole in the life of so many people, Laenor could disappear in the sea and after the ripples went away the world would continue spinning as if nothing changed. Nyra would have Daemon to marry, a Prince in his own right and a warrior to fight for her, and the boys, the boys he loves as his own always did, would still have Harwin.

He still has his eyes locked into the sea, darkness swallowing him whole no matter how hard he tries to fight his way out when a small hand lands on his arm and a quiet voice, a whisper even if they are alone in the dark of the night brings him violently back.

“Dad?”

“Jace.” Laenor forces himself to look at his boy, to mold his face into a smile even if it pains him to do so “What are you doing awake so late?”

“Luke snores.” His oldest boy replies with a shrug and nests himself to his side “What are you doing awake so late?”

“Looking at the sea.” He replies, throwing an arm around his son’s shoulders “It helps me think.”

“Do you miss sailing when we are at the Keep?”

“I do yes, I sailed before I ever dreamed of flying in Seasmoke, when you get that taste of freedom atop of your dragon you will understand the urge to stay there forever, I feel the same about sailing that any dragonrider does for flying, but don’t tell Seasmoke that, it will hurt his feelings.”

“Are you thinking about aunt Laena?” Jace asks, turning his head to look at him “Is that why you are so sad?”

“I was.” Laenor agrees with a hopeless smile “I loved her very dearly and it’s hard to imagine living in a world without her.”

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t imagine losing Luke or Joff.” His son says, brown eyes filled with kindness

“You will never have to imagine it, Jace, your mother and I will always protect you with everything we have.” Laenor almost shudders thinking about this scenario, losing any of his boys would be akin to losing a piece of his own soul “Don’t trouble yourself with this type of pain.”

“Rhaena talked a lot about aunt Laena, she sounds like a really amazing person.”

“She was.” Talking about her as ‘was’ sends a bitter taste down his throat, an urge to burst into tears “You are very kind Jace, I’m glad you and the girls have been getting along so well.”

“I like them a lot.” Jace agrees, a small smile on his lips, “It will be really nice to have new people to play with back home, will you teach them the games you taught us?”

“If they want to learn, of course I will.”

“Good.” Jace nods, averting his eyes to the sea as well “Ser Harwin says that it’s good to have people around to help when you need, that we shouldn’t try to deal with everything ourselves.”

“He is a very wise man, indeed, I’m glad to hear he will be taking over your training.”

“I’m here for you.” Jace turns so he can stand in front of him and Laenor takes a step back to give him space, his face too serious for such a young kid “You know that right, father? That I love you? That Luke loves you? And Joff does too, I know he does, he never smiles as much as when you are the one holding him. We are here and we love you.”

“And I love you three, more than anything in this world.” Laenor says and it’s the easiest thing in the world, an unshakable truth “My sweet, clever, beautiful, strong boys.”

"Lord Vaemond doesn't like us." Jacaerys says almost out of the blue "He doesn't see us as his family."

"My uncle doesn't like many people," Laenor replies with a humorless smile at his oldest, "Not me at least, you shouldn't take his words to heart, Jace."

“But it’s true isn’t it?” Jace bites his lips, lowering his eyes for a moment before looking back at him “The rumors about our family. The things he implied in his speech. The gossip about you, about mom and Ser Harwin, about why we have dark eyes and dark hair and don't look Targaryen at all. We are Strong boys.”

“Yes.”

The word leaves as soft as a breeze and Laenor sighs, shoulders dropping as if he can now feel in full the weight those web of lies put on them all. How foolish for them to believe the children would remain unaware of the truth, that they could hide from them their true heritage when every single person around them finds a reason to talk about it, when his uncle used his sister’s funeral to make a dig at them.

Jacaerys is a smart child, far more observant than even them give him credit for, and at that age where he understands the ugliness of the world much more than Laenor ever wished him to.

“Do you love mom?”

“Not as a husband should love a wife, but yes, I love and cherish your mother as a friend, as someone I care about very dearly and I want nothing but her happiness.”

“Do you love us? Even if we are not yours?”

“You are my son Jacaerys. And so are your brothers. I have loved you from the moment Nyra announced she was pregnant, have not stopped or faltered for a single moment. Blood means nothing, I love you more than anything.” He repeats back the earlier words with the same conviction, dropping to a knee so he can look his boy in the eyes “You know what this means?”

He waits until Jace shakes his head, biting his lower lip with far too bright eyes overflowing with unshed tears.

“It just means that there are more people who love you. I am not the father who shares your blood and Harwin is not the father who can call you son, but it doesn’t mean we love you any less, I was there when he held you for the first time Jace, and when he held Luke and then Joff, and he loves you as much as your mother and I. You are loved Jacaerys, never doubt it for a single moment.”

His older boy just throws his arms around his neck, sniffling as tears wet Laenor’s shoulder and he holds the boy a bit tighter, feeling as tears burn into his own eyes. This is not what will break their family, this is not what will break his son.

Laenor is not an angry man, he is not the warrior and defender Nyra will rely on on the hard days to come, but he knows his worth, he knows his value and what he is good at. He is a fixer, he is the one to keep his head and think outside the box, to do the thing others are too scared to try.

But for those boys? For the sons he has loved since the beginning of their existence? Laenor would gladly remind everyone he is a dragon too. He will not allow the world who hurt him at every turn have a go at his sons, he will not allow them to feel ashamed of themselves even for a second.

"Hush now my dear boy, you don't have to cry over this." Laenor murmurs, caressing his head "Don't listen to those people, to their bitter words or cruel remarks, because it will matter nothing in the end. You are a Targaryen as your mother is and will take the Iron Throne as one."

"But people will talk. They will always talk and what if they want to hurt you or mom? Or Luke and Joff? What if it causes a war?"

Laenor's heart hurt for his little boy.

Jacaerys is too clever for his own good sometimes, too politically aware to not understand the danger of his true parentage, too empathetic to not worry about his loved ones. His sweet son's big heart is something Laenor would fight to death to protect; he just hates that it causes him so much pain.

"It will not be easy." The man says, closing his eyes for a few moments before pulling away so he can make eye contact with his son "It will never be easy Jacaerys, and whispers will follow all of you for your whole lives. I cannot lie to you about this because you need to be prepared, you and your brothers, in our wish to protect you from pai your mother and I have neglected to think that as much as we want to shield you all from everything there will be battles we cannot fight in your name. There will be challenges and maybe even worse things than that, coming from people who wish to push their own blood on the throne."

It hurts his soul to see the scared light in his oldest's eyes, the way he clings to his arm with a shaking grip. But Jacaerys is no longer a baby even if he is just a child, he has figured out the truth and hiding things from him will just make him unprepared to deal with the challenges of the future.

"But you will always have us. Me, your mother, Harwin, we will do everything in our power Jace to make things as easy as they can be for you, to cut down any threats, to make sure that when you take the throne no one will dare say anything." He puts as much conviction on his voice as he can

"What about the rest of our family?” His son frowns at him “Do they know what we are too?”

“Daemon does.” He huffs an almost laugh, Laena knew and he can’t see her sister keeping secrets from her husband “As probably do your uncles and aunt. Otto Hightower is not a man to be trusted Jace, even if he is the grandsire of your friends, he may not be as vocal as my own uncle but that just makes him more dangerous.”

“He isn’t a good person.” Jace agrees, something almost sad in his eyes “Aegon told me I shouldn’t stay close to him ever or accept any invite he makes to me, he wouldn’t tell me why, just that Ser Otto is not a good person. So why does granddad like him so much?”

“Prince Aegon is right.” Laenor nods “Ser Otto is a good friend of your grandsire and sometimes when we really like a person we don’t see the things that make them not nice, Sir Otto is really nice to him, so he doesn’t believe he can be mean towards others. Your grandsire is a good person Jace, he believes in the best of everyone, but sometimes that is a very dangerous thing to do.”

“But I can trust Aegon right? And Aemond and Helaena?” Jace grips his arm a little harder, eyes wide “They are good, dad. Even if Ser Otto is their grandsire, they are always good to us, even when we aren’t really nice to them.”

“I know they are.” Laenor soothes his son “They are our family too, and sometimes family fight and sometimes we don’t always get along, but we stand together and we protect each other. Your mother would first rip all of her dresses and throw away all her jewelry before she allowed Otto Hightower of all people to come between our family.”

Laenor doesn’t say what he truly means: Nyra would first feed Otto and all his allies to Syrax before she allowed him to keep manipulating and terrorizing her siblings and putting her position and her children at risk.

He knows his wife, Nyra is good and she has her father’s big heart, but she lacks his softness, his genuine trust on the good of the others and mostly his leniency, his wife is prideful and sharp and stubborn and once she decides she wants something she will go to the ends of the earths to get that. Nyra will never pick bloodshed as her first option, but if the situation forces her hand she will not hesitate to go down that route.

Otto Hightower is doing nothing but force her hand.

He wonders if the man doesn’t know his wife. If he expects her to accept his schemes, if he really thinks that even if he managed to crown Aegon, Rhaenyra would just quietly accept defeat. Rhaenyra is a dragon, he seems to forget the fire burning inside of her.

If the man’s destruction is the way to avoid that bloody outcome he is crafting, if it’s the way to protect their children and the sibling she has come to love with fierce devotion, then it’s no question on if Otto will fall, it’s only a matter of when.

“And you will stay by our side?” Jace asks, voice so soft it is barely audible “I need you dad.”

Laenor pulls his oldest into a hug who is promptly returned, he looks in the direction of the sea and the calm waters, somewhere in the distance Vhagar dips low into the water before ascending once more, her massive form almost obscuring the moon for a moment, the ripples left by her coming close to their ship before dissipating.

He thinks about his early musings. His dark and troubled thoughts about cold water and the numbness that would come before his end, and Jace hugs him tighter burying his face into his neck.

Seasmoke flies over their ship, so close he is almost touching the Targaryen flag signaling the presence of the royal family, the flapping of his wings causing a slight wind to cause a shiver on him. His dragon emits a low sound, something Laenor can only assume means sadness and worry as if he can feel the darkness that had been taking over his heart.

Laenor looks at the water one more time.

“Always Jacaerys. I will always be by your side."

Daemon will not, not even under the threat of death or torture, admit that he almost jumped out of his skin when he turned a corner and almost collided with the girl.

It’s early enough that those not plagued by nightmares or restlessness like himself should still be sleeping, especially on a ship where in reality there is not very much to do in terms of entertainmentment, Baela especially gets easily irritated on any journey that takes longer than a day even with the company of her sister, always thinking of things they can do in the confined space, too much of a free spirit to feel comfortable being unable to roam freely and too much of a early riser to allow herself to pass the time sleeping, he only hopes that the presence of other children will work to lift her spirits, the gods know his girls can use any drop of joy they can find.

So it’s a given that he did not expect to be greeted by anyone save maybe a servant or one of the sailors, especially on the lower parts of the ship where he had been searching for some liquid to numb his thoughts - Not that he found any of the good stuff he bought with him from the Free Cities, Rhaenys the damn woman had even left a letter on the empty box telling him she had taken the liberty of sending some of his things straight to the Red Keep, sometimes he doesn’t know if he loves or hates his cousin.

Yet as soon as he turns a corner in the direction of the stairs, weightening the advantages of trying to train in his small room, his heart almost beats itself out of his chest when he almost collides with a small figure.

His hand instinctively goes to where his sword usually is, but in his nightclothes he obviously finds nothing, which is probably a good thing. The girl in question just stands there with equally surprised eyes.

“Is that a f*cking spider in your hair?” Is the first thing that leaves his mouth as he stares at her

Automatically the little green princess unfreezes and she moves to gently pick the big ass spider that had been just casually sitting atop of her pale blonde hair, cradling the thing to her chest with both hands almost as if she is protecting it from him.

“She is harmless.” Her voice is incredibly soft and there is a defensive glint to it and to her eyes as well “Only the males have poison.”

“And how the f*ck do you know if it’s male ou a female?” Daemon asks, almost baffled

He tries to take another look at the thing but the girl takes a half step back and covers the spider with her hand giving him an incredibly wary look, from the glimpse he got before she blocked his view the spider was bigger than any insect had any right to be, probably almost the size of the girl’s hand, hairy and ugly as every spider can be, a dark shade of brown. Daemon doesn’t think Rhaenyra will be particularly happy if her recently beloved younger sister gets stung by a poisonous spider in his company, and he already can see Otto going on a crusade accusing him of trying to kill the girl.

“She is carrying her babies.” The girl answers like it’s obvious and after a few seconds she cautiously raises her hand just enough to allow him to peer into the spider and see her properly “See? They are on her back.”

This is the weirdest f*cking thing Daemon has seen in his life.

He is a battle hardened warrior, a man who has batted in the guts of his enemies and chopped more body parts than he can count, he has been covered in gore and found tooths in places better not spoken about, he is used by graphic visions that would make those of a weaker constitution vomit or faint, he had laughed while covered in his enemies’ body parts and his own blood.

And yet the vision of the f*cking spider cradled gently in the little green princess hands manages to be one of the weirdest sh*ts he ever saw. What he first thought was fur or some sh*t turns out to be a sh*t ton of tiny little spiders on the big one’s back, now that he can actually see it the baby spiders are moving a bit on the mother’s back, so tiny there must be hundreds of them in there.

“What the f*ck.”

Suddenly he is glad that the weirdest thing Baela ever touched was some colorful frog and Rhaena would not dream of picking a weird creature. He doesn’t think he would know how to react if he saw his daughters holding a big ass spider and her creepy ass monkey kids.

“She is harmless” The girl replies again, more forcefully, and covers the spider again giving him another wary look

“Kid why the f*ck at you walking around in the middle of the night with a sh*t ton of spiders on your hair?”

Really, what’s up with those green brats?

“She was in my room, but that isn’t a good place for her, this species like darkness and damp spaces so I thought she would be happier down here where less people would disturb her, I didn’t want any servants walking in and killing her.” She explains like it’s the most logical thing in the world wanting to protect a spider and then, softer, with the most heartbreaking look in her eyes she almost begs “Please don’t kill her.”

Ah sh*t.

He takes a good moment to look at the little princess. The kid must be older than his own girls by at least a few namedays, but she is so small and thin she could pass as their peer, her hair is long and curly, a very pale shade of blonde that is more white than actually silver, freckles dote her face and her purple eyes are also a very clear shade, much more clear than any Daemon has ever seen in his life, almost colorless, she is so pale that the white night clothes she is wearing are almost the same shade of her skin and she is looking at him like she expects him to slap the spider out of her hand and step over the thing in front of her.

He kinda gets why Rhaenyra is suddenly so focused on her crusade to protect those green menaces when they look like human versions of a bunch of sad pathetic kittens, even if Aemond is also clearly half feral.

f*ck Otto and his green daughter for making him actually feel something but contempt for their green spawn.

Laena will probably haunt him for eternity if he does something to hurt this kid, his wife could overlook many of his flaws but not the ones that would have him acting like an ass towards children, no matter their heritage.

“I’m not killing your creepy friend.” He says at least, moving so he can rest a shoulder against the wall leaving the path open for her “If you say she is harmless I supposed I should trust you know what you are talking and will not get us all bitten to death by a bunch of poisonous spiders.”

“Thank you. Even the males only attack when they are provoked, so unless someone tries to cause them harm there is no need to worry.” Helaena smiles first at the spider on her hands before shily sending a smile on his direction

“You really like those creepy f*ckers don’t you?” Daemon asks as the girl walks past him and he finds himself following after her

“Yes.” Helaena replies easily, apparently not bothered by his foul language “They may look scary to some people but that doesn’t make them evil. They do what they have to do to survive, they are not mean or cruel just because they can, they don’t attack others just because, they have reasons and none of them are moved by cruelty. It’s easier to understand them than people.”

Daemon hates that he can actually see the point in liking the weird critters even if he still finds it the weirdest sh*t he has seen in a while.

He watches almost fascinated as the girl ventures fearless into the deeps of the ship until she finds probably the darkest and most musty place possible, so covered in dust and other cobwebs that their footprints are left behind, she is incredible careful to lower her head and avoid disturbing any of the cobwebs until she finally kneels down and puts the spider on the floor, with the tips of her finger she gently nudges it on the direction of a hole and the creature seems to hesitate for a moment, climbing back into her hand once more time before disappearing into the hole.

Absolutely one of the weirdest sh*ts he has seen in his whole life, the prince doubts he would believe it if someone tried to tell him about the events he just witnessed.

Helaena stays kneeled on the floor, uncaring about the dirt on her pristine white night clothes, and a frown starts to form on Daemon’s face as the girl starts to swing gently, almost as if there is some wind blowing on her, what is ridiculous given that they are on the deeps of the ship’s belly, no windows or air passages even near them, he is almost tempted to call her attention when she speaks again, voice breezy and almost sounding like she is singing.

“The danger hides in the blood." She moves her hands as if spinning a wheel "Threads changing colors, green to black, pale blue lacing with green, green swallowing red little by little, weakening, strengthening, changing, everything is changing but nothing as well. It spins, and spins and nothing moves at all. An eye is not lost, a new path is being forged but it still spins and spins until the dragons have to dance. Is it enough? Can anything be enough?"

Daemon is not stupid.

He is a warrior before he is anything else, he has picked a sword and paved his way with it almost in the same way Viserys has picked a book and done the same, he believes in strength and in bravery above anything else, in taking what you want and need without being burdened by moral dilemmas. Fire and blood.

Dragons have given House Targaryen the status and power they have now. It was fire who forced kings to bow, it is the magic in their blood who allows them to rise above others and bond with dragons.

But it was not fire or blood who saved House Targaryen from destruction alongside so many in Valyria.

He has studied the history of his House, he has learned of those who made them great. Dameon does not share Viserys' daydreams and prophecies, he does not believe in being bound by choices made by anyone but himself, but there are things one cannot deny.

Daenys Targaryen single handedly saved their House and their dragons from destruction with her dreams. Any Targaryen who is stupid enough to not pay attention to dragon dreams is one who deserves the misery who waits in his path.

It just surprises him to see this little green princess, this Hightower girl with a grandsire and a mother who does not even try to understand their costumes, is the one to be blessed with this gift.

How much his niece must have suffered. How lonely and lost must she feel living in a place where people do not understand the precious gift and burden that the gods have given her.

How incredibly worrying that the gods have decided they need this blessing.

Daemon has never seen a dragon dreamer, he has heard of them but none like this. Every relate speaks of literal dreams, of instances where the future has been revealed to their kin during their slumber, what he is witnessing is something more, something deeper.

Helaena must be the most powerful among them all and no one even realizes it.

"I am so afraid Uncle Daemon."

Helaena speaks again and her voice sounds older but still terrifying childish as a young child would speak after a nightmare, how Baela sounded when Moondancer felt sick and no one knew if the little dragon would survive, how Rhaena sounded after her first nightmare after Laena was gone. He can't speak, his lips seem to have been sealed shut as if an invisible line has sewed them so, his hands grip where a sword usually rests but Helaena does not wait for an answer.

"I see things that no one does. I see fire and blood and pain and ruins every time I close my eyes. If the dragons dance there will be no winners, only survivors." She swings more as if a strong wind is forcing her to move "Children slaughtered by a hollow revenge. The sea painted red. Mutual destruction. Falling, falling so fast, so harshly, so much pain. Fire burning bodies. Dragons falling, suffering. Black and green destroying themselves and everything around them."

As she speaks it's almost like she is painting the terrible images on his brain, seizing control of his very being. He sees dragons fighting among themselves high on the sky, tearing each other apart, he sees faceless children covered in blood as their little bodies are torn apart, he sees a figure falling from the Red Keep, he smells burning flesh and feels the phantom pain of a sword piercing his body. His children, with tears cascading their faces.

Nausea threaten to seize him as Helaena continues her mindless spinning on air, eyes so very distant, when she speaks again there is more emotion back on her voice, something akin to longing.

"People wonder why I'm not afraid of spiders or snakes or any other animal. Why should I? Why should I fear them when the images in my dreams are so much more terrifying?"

Helaena finally turns to look at him, her pale eyes seem to be almost glowing, more white than purple in all honesty, and they are far away, glazed over as if she is somewhere else, some place Daemon could never see. A shiver runs down his spine, the hairs at the back of his neck standing up and cold sweat coating his hands.

And then as sudden as it began it ends.

Helaena blinks and drops her shoulders, like a puppet whose strings got cut, her eyes coming back to the present. Daemon lets go of a breath he didn't even know he was holding, feeling for the first time the tension gathering on his shoulders, even the air itself seems to get lighter, it can be just his mind but somehow the place seems to get more bright.

"I'm tired." Helaena speaks, softly, rubbing a hand over her eyes

"Let's get you to bed, kid." Daemon says, still feeling numb "You sure as sh*t need it."

As he walks just behind her, fighting the urge to ask questions he is not even sure he wants an answer to, Helaena makes no mention of the f*ckery that just happened, just guides him while whistling a soft song under her breath that sounds oddly familiar.

He enters the room after her, Baela and Rhaena both peacefully sleeping on their beds and Helaena is quiet as a mouse as she moves towards her own bed. It's instinct to pull the covers over her and Daemon hesitates only for a second before he smooths her pale hair, hand lingering on her cold forehead as big eyes look at him, so old and so painfully young at the same time.

"It will be enough, niece. I will make sure we do enough for you to have peaceful dreams, this is a promise."

It is only when Daemon closes the door that it hits him what song she has been whistling.

It was the lullaby his mother used to sing to him when he had nightmares.

Rhaenyra is enjoying what seems like her first true peaceful morning in many months.

The day is clear, early enough that free from their usual responsibilities the children are still enjoying the warmth of their bed, and things are looking good.

Away from Driftmark and King's Landing the children are flourishing and bonding in a way that feels like the universe itself has been waiting for s chance to push them together, one would think they have been raised this closely since the crib, her heart still misses a beat when she sees them arguing over something, so painfully aware of how quickly things can go downhill and friendships can end, but their hurts are quick to heal and at the end of the day they always end up figuring things out by themselves, going to dinner with smiles and easiness.

For the first time in her life Rhaenyra is watching her family behave as one.

They still have one more day of travel before arriving at Dragonstone and she couldn't be more excited to show the children their ancient home, but for now she think she can allow herself to relax and simply enjoy the day, she has been itching to pick her needles and do something to gift to Joffrey, maybe a little blanket or a tiny scarf to protect him against the winds are Dragonstone.

It's truly been too long since she allowed herself to just rest and worry about nothing at all. The Crown Princess almost smiles as she plans her leisure day.

But her planning is rudely interrupted by a quick succession of knows on her door, the person behind it barely allowing her to call her permission to enter before throwing the door open.

Laenor looks incredibly sober, eyes downcast and before she can even greet her husband he is speaking as soon as the door closes behind him.

"Jacaerys knows Harwin is his birth father."

Rhaenyra stares at him, eyes wide, heart starting to beat itself out of her chest. Before she can even begin to process this earth shattering news, before her brain can conjure every single dark possibility that has haunted her night for so many time, her door is yanked open with no warning, Daemon has barely closed it behind himself when he speaks, not sparing Laenor more than a quick look.

"Helaena is a dragon dreamer and she believes there is a war coming."

The three of the stay there looking at each other in stunned silence.

Rhaenyra finally sighs, long suffering. She gives a long look at the needles waiting for her before just filling two cups with tea and mentioning for her men to sit.

This is going to be a long f*cking day.

Chapter 11

Chapter Text

A headache is breeding at the back of her eyes and Rhaenyra wishes she could turn back time to just a few hours prior when her only concern was choosing what she wanted to make for Joffrey instead of the mess thrown in her lap by two of the men of her life.

Laenor is sitting in the chair in front of her like a statue, lips pressed so firmly together they are nothing but a thin line, brows furrowed that age him by almost a decade, he is holding the cup of tea like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

Daemon on the other hand is walking almost violently around her modest room, turning so sharply that she is half sure he is going to just hit his face in one of the walls sooner rather than later, his mouth is set on a displeased frown, almost a pout, and his hands clenched into fists.

It does not surprise her when he stops abruptly and punches one of the walls before continuing to stalk around the room like a caged predator.

Laenor jumps slightly at the unexpected sound, long cold tea splashing on his clothes even if he doesn’t take notice of it.

Rhaenyra crosses her hands on her laps and waits for Daemon to calm himself down, aware that the onslaught of information she and Laenor dumped on him may be slightly overwhelming but uninterested in dealing with it at the moment.

Well, it’s his own damn fault for isolating himself on the other side of the sea and not bothering to know anything that was happening in Westeros.

She turns her eyes back to Laenor, closing her eyes for a brief moment to try to relieve a bit of the pain.

“Are you certain that Jace is alright?” She asks, not for the first time, but Laenor, the gods bless his heart just reach to take one of her hands

“Yes, Nyra, I am quite certain.” His eyes soften and he squeezes her hand “I took him back to his bed after our talk and stayed with him until he fell asleep again, he was still resting when I left in the morning and he looked reassured of our love for him. It will not be easy, but Jace took the confirmation much better than I expected. Our boy is strong, Nyra.”

“I wish he didn’t have to be.”

Her words are barely above a whisper, pained like only a mother’s sorrow could produce.

How she wishes things were different.

She had prayed, when she was pregnant with each of the boys, prayed and prayed until her throat was raw and pained, especially with Jace’s pregnancy, prayed for the mercy of silver hair and purple eyes, for her children to be born with her coloring at the very least, but her prayers and pleas had gone unanswered, like the gods had turned themselves deaf and blind to her.

It would have been so much easier, if at least one of the boys had been born looking Targaryen.

No one pays attention to the shape of their eyes, to the curve of their noses, to the way their cheekbones sit on their soft cheeks. They don’t see how they laugh like Laenor, how their eggs hatched and they bonded with their dragons like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Of course they don’t.

Not when they had brown hair and brown hair, so easily spotted on the sea of silver and purple of their own uncles and aunt.

Rhaenyra used to weep, in the early years when the gossip about Jacaerys was loud, weep harder when Lucerys was born and it came back with a revenge, so much sharper and louder than it had been with her firstborn. Weep because she knew what it would mean to her beautiful boys, knew that she had fated them to a life of struggle, of mocking whispers behind their backs, of uncertainty about their legitimacy, about their place among their own family.

Rhaenyra is so intimately familiar with the burden of feeling like you are not enough, that you are not what people expect, what they wish for, that it sends bitterness and pain straight to her soul to realize she condemned her children to the same fate.

She had kept the truth from them, not only because one cannot trust children with the burden of such a deadly secret, but because Rhaenyra could not bear to crush them with the weight of such a thing, it shouldn’t be them to bear the consequences of her choices and she would protect their innocence for as long as she could.

But at the same time tears have never served her anything, have never taken her anywhere. So while Rhaenyra wept inside her chambers, secure in the arms of Harwin who supported her amongst the worst of the storm, who remained steady fast and loyal and so very kind, fading into the background even when she would never dare to ask that of him, outside of it she made sure to keep her eyes dry and her head high.

And she lied. By the gods she lied until sometimes she herself forgets the truth, becomes blind to the world around her because keeping her children safe and secure comes above anything else in this world, it matters not what bridges she had to burn, what doors she had to close if that meant her beautiful boys could thrive into a world who would tear them apart if she faltered even for a second.

What a cruel twist of fate, that her determination to keep them safe almost caused the destruction of their whole family.

Somewhere the gods must be laughing at them.

And now her castle of cards is crumbling around her, like a dragon’s wing flapped too close to it.

Her siblings, deathly afraid of her.

Her beautiful firstborn, aware of the secret she wanted to protect him from.

Her sweet cousin, dead.

Her father, ill and blind to the snake wrapping itself around his neck, uncaring and even unaware of the harm he has caused them all.

Her former friend, wrapped into a web of lies and conspiracy so thick she is allowing her children to be used as paws.

Her uncle, thrust back into the middle of the storm, grieving and angry and oh so painfully familiar.

Her darling sister, haunted by visions of pain and suffering and blood.

The man who threatens to destroy her family coming closer again, trying to sink his claws into them.

“I know.” Laenor says, softly and sadly

“What the actual f*cking f*ck!” Daemon finally stops his restless circling, stopping in front of the vacant chair “What the f*ck?”

“Which part?” Laenor asks, drily and almost amused, going to rest his back against the chair again, eyes closed “The part where our children were born out of wedlock, the part where the king is sick, the part where no treatment is working, the part where the maesters are slowly taking charge during the king’s absence with the queen’s approval and support, the part where they are trying to push Nyra away from the decisions, the part where Otto Hightower has been hurting his grandchildren, the part where he has been grooming them to see Rhaenyra as a enemy, the part where there is likely a coup brewing in Oldtown, the part where apparently your niece is a dragon dreamer who saw war in our future? Or something else I have missed?”

“Everyone knows your children are bastards.” Daemon fires back, rolling his eyes and dropping into the chair “No offense.”

“None taken.”

“Much has happened since you left” Rhaenyra says with a shrug, smiling drily at him “Even more has happened in less than a month.”

“When are we going to kill Otto?” Daemon says automatically, a dangerous edge to his smile “Because I can’t say I’m not looking forward to swinging the sword.”

“When we can put him on trial for treason against the Crown.” Laenor answers easily, with a frown on his lips

“Can’t we just cut his head off?” Daemon asks even if he sounds resigned already

As much as her uncle may act as a brash rebel with no morals and no planning, as much as he wants that to be the image people associate with him, Rhaenyra knows he is cunning enough to understand the logic behind their hesitation to kill Otto.

“No, unless you want to turn him into a martyr.” Rhaenyra huffs, just as resigned as him “Trust me, that was my first instinct as well, but a very wise man has made me see reason. If we simply kill him, then I will just look like the Maegor with teats he tells his followers I am. We must let him hang himself.”

“When he demands a trial by combat, I’m your champion.” Daemon nods at her, glancing at Laenor as if expecting him to protest “I wouldn’t miss the opportunity to kill one of his spawns before killing him.”

“Very confident.” Laenor says, smiling at the older man

“Almost did it once, wouldn’t be too hard to do again.” Daemons shrugs, uncaring as he starts drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair before continuing “Why don’t you use the brats word to get the ball moving already?”

“While Daeron is a hostage at Oldtown? Never.” The princess scoffs at the idea “Besides, the old c*nt will just claim I have threatened the children, and he will threaten Daeron or even Alicent to make sure they comply with his lies and make me look deranged in front of the kingdom. First we must have the boy with us, then we can work on setting him to hang himself with his own actions.”

“Ward, not hostage.” Daemon says, amusem*nt on his eyes

“As if you believe it yourself.” Rhaenyra replies back easily, rolling her eyes at him

Maybe Daeron has always been a hostage instead of a ward, Rhaenyra can only imagine how much easily Alicent bend to her father’s will when he had her youngest son so close to himself and so far away from her, when he could do anything to the boy and it would take a raven’s time for her to even know something happened in the first place.

Young boys are so prone to accidents, after all.

A fall, a young boy's adventure gone wrong in the middle of the night, and they would find the body when it was already too late, maybe would not find it at all.

An enemy of the crown, skilled enough to get close and fulfill a dark and bloody mission. Never caught of course, no matter how hard the brave knights searched for him, or then found but killed in the ensuing fight before he could tell them who ordered the attack.

Even a sickness, sudden and so very hard on a young and weak body, resistant even to the best treatment of the most skilled maesters at Oldtown.

Children are so fragile, especially when they are so young.

Now the focus has just shifted, it’s not Alicent that Otto wants to keep docile and under his control, but her children who are daring to rebel against him so openly, it’s Rhaenyra who he now must knows actually gives a f*ck about what happens to her siblings.

She wonders if Otto believes in his own words, if he truly thinks that Rhaenyra is so heartless, so monstrous that she would shed her own kin’s blood only to ensure that there are no one to claim the throne, no one to challenge her, if there is a part of him who truly worries about his grandchildren’s safety instead of just a husk of a man who cares for nothing but power, who would do anything, would say anything, in order to achieve his goal.

Maybe there is, because Rhaenyra knows that if their positions were reversed, Otto would kill her and her children without a breath of hesitation, would have gotten rid of them years ago in such a way he would probably end up painted as a hero.

Cruel men have a distinctly difficult time realizing others aren’t as heartless as them after all.

But in the end it doesn’t matter.

If Otto cares or not for his grandchildren does not erase the danger he represents to her family as a whole. This is a man who is willing to hurt his own blood, children, innocent and pure and so painfully young, to manipulate and terrorize them just to make them see their own kin as enemy, this is a man who put Rhaenyra and her sons in danger without them ever realizing it.

Who knows what he will do, now that they have him cornered, when he has lost the secrecy he was working under for so many years and is aware that Rhaenyra, the enemy, knows about his manipulations.

A cornered man is a dangerous one, especially one such as Otto who has her own father wrapped around his fingers even after being cast from the position of Hand for the same crimes he is perpetuating now.

“Fair enough.” Daemon nods, shrugging “I don’t think we can trust the old c*nt to not have the kid killed as a warning or punishment against the brats.”

“And that is something we don’t want.” Laenor reiterates, almost forcefully, looking at Daemon with his eyebrows arched “We don’t want the children caught in the middle of the battle.”

“The brats are the battle, hells, they are the f*cking blades themselves.” Daemon scoffs, rolling his eyes “The green brats have big targets on their front and back now that they have cozied themselves to the enemy, they will be lucky if until the next moon they don’t get someone trying to slit their throats in their sleep trying to set the blame on Rhaenyra.”

“Daemon.” Rhaenyra’s voice is sharp, not quite angry but on the verge of annoyance, her eyes narrowed in his direction

“You know I’m right.” Daemon insists, challenging her with his eyes “If I was Otto, the first thing I would do would be to kill at least one of them when they are in your care, away from King’s Landing and their loving mother’s and grandfather’s care, it would be your word against his and you know how that weasel would manipulate people to see you as a c*nt who killed a kid.”

She hates that it makes sense.

Rhaenyra feels a shiver run down her spine, her hands clenching on the fabric of her dress because the picture Daemon is painting is too vivid, too close to reality.

A part of her wants to believe Otto wouldn’t dare, that he would not spill the blood of his grandchildren.

A bigger part knows that it would be a masterful plan if it works as intended. Maybe he would order them to kill Aegon, the obvious challenge as the firstborn son. Maybe Helaena or Aemond, the younger two, less important, dispensable, just paws to make Aegon fall into line. Maybe he would kill all three and crown Daeron, the only one he has completely under his thumb.

She shivers again, unable to not imagine the gruesome details. The small bodies, laying in pools of their own blood, drenched in it with their throats cut to the bone, eyes wide and unfocused, mouth open in soundless screams. Or maybe Otto would go for poison, easier to hide into food or drinks, harder to detect in the moment, maybe one subtle enough that it could pass for a simple sickness at first, the children going for a nap and never waking up, peaceful as if in a eternal slumber, maybe a more violent one, the dark type that one reserves for bitter enemies, that boils you from inside out, that make you choke on your own blood.

Rhaenyra digs her nails into her own hands before she can continue down that path.

Her siblings, dead in her care.

A assassin, or maybe two, confessing to loyal knights it was the Crown Princess who paid them to take the life of the children, perhaps they would even say she called them horrible, cruel things, that she asked them to make them suffer.

Would her father defend her?

Would it matter if he did?

She knows, deep into her bones, that it wouldn’t. Not for long, not with how sick and frail he is becoming with each passing day, with how unaware he is sometimes. The moment he couldn’t protect her anymore her enemies would pounce on the opportunity to tear her apart.

It would take very little for them to go for her children.

She gags, unable to even picture such a terrible scenario.

Laenor reaches for her again, gently prying her hands open so he can hold them and only then Rhaenyra notices the bloodied marks she left, but cares nothing about them, squeezing Laenor’s hand back and watching the worry that set on his youthful features, clearly having come to the same realization.

Daemon watches them with keen eyes that seen to burrow into her very soul, but seeing the way her lips tremble and her eyes glister, the way Laenor bites his own lips hard enough to draw blood, the shaking on his hands as he holds into her, his expression softens, shoulders dropping and his voice is lower, as close as gentle as he probably can.

“Listen, I don’t want the little brats harmed either. They are… not totally despicable I suppose, and it would be a shame if they became victims of Otto’s war. That is why this has to be talked about, we have to think like him so we can be prepared for anything he may set up, Otto is a f*cker with no morals, but he is clever and we must be ready for when and how he strikes, because you know he will not take the humiliation of his grandchildren rejecting him so openly easily.”

“They have grown into you haven’t they?” Rhaenyra can’t help but ask, smiling softly despite everything

“Like Greyscale.” Daemon answers, long suffering, but there is a glint of mirth in his eyes “I will protect you Rhaenyra. You and our family, I will protect them from anyone who may want to bring them harm, I swear on my life.”

Rhaenyra believes him without a single shadow of doubt.

Chapter 12

Chapter Text

It’s not the noise that truly takes Jace’s attention away from the old and heavy book he is currently reading in the main library, even if he didn’t imagine it at first the tales are captivating enough that he completely ignores the noise of something hitting a wall close to his location.

It’s harder, however, to ignore the way the maid that was cleaning the bookshelves scream.

The dark haired boy turns fast to look in her direction as she takes a step back with wide scared eyes, he frowns a little before he can finally see what scared her- A bat, fallen in the floor almost directly where she was before, small and even from the distance Jacaerys can see the blood covering the fur.

Jace leaps from his chair, uncaring of the loud sound it makes as it falls backwards, throwing himself in front of the maid with his arms open like a shield, the woman blinks and stops mid movement with her eyes widened in surprise, the broom frozen mid air ready to strike.

“My…. My prince?” She asks, clearly baffled as she lowers the broom and takes another step back

“No!” Jace says, louder than it is proper, still standing protectively in front of the bat, but lowering his voice before continuing “No! He is harmless, just injured. Let him be, I will take care of him.”

“My prince!” It's the guard who speaks now, stepping forward, a worried frown on his face “This creature could be full of diseases, you should not go close, let alone touch it.”

“It isn't.” Jacaerys insists, frowning and before anyone can stop him he moves and gently cradles the bat to his chest, the animal is so weak it barely even moves, Jace coos gently to him before looking at both the maid and the guard as if daring them to try to take it from his arms

It's not often that Jace takes advantage of the fact that he is his mother's heir and as close as untouchable as one can be, but this is definitely one of those occasions. The maid obviously backs away first with one last bow to him before leaving, probably to go tend to another room where there are no princes holding injured bats, but the guard still hesitates for long moments before lowering his head, lips pressed into a thin line.

Jace smiles victoriously as he gently caresses the bat’s little head.

“You will be okay little one. I will take care of you.” He whispers gently, books forgotten as he leaves the library, a destination set on his mind “I know exactly who can help you.”

Dragonstone is vastly different from the Red Keep and even from most castles Jace has visited on his lifetime, even if it stands tall and proud in a island the fortress of a castle is too far removed from the sea by the walls for the smell of the sea to reach the inside like it does in Driftmark, the stones that build the castle are rougher than others, dark and for some weird reason they are always warm to the touch even if there isn’t much sunlight to warm them, the widows at Dragonstone are fewer than Jace is used to, most of the lightning of the castle is made by candles and hearths generously displayed by the halls and chambers.

Uncle Daemon had told them that Dragonstone was not built to be beautiful, it was built to protect. No harm could come to them inside of those walls, he had insisted with a proud glint on his eyes, their family’s ancient home was built to offer them safe haven no matter how weakened they could be, able to withstand attacks and even sieges with ease.

Jace can see it as he hurries past the long halls, the inside of the place is a bit of a maze as well but each wall is decorated with tapestries and painting unique enough that getting lost is not that much of a worry.

The heir knows that their rooms are just around the corner of the life sized dragon egg statue that has been painted a beautiful silver and green, right after you pass a tapestry that mother insisted came from Valyria and is older than they could possibly imagine.

Jace isn’t that much interested in such things but Rhaena and Aemond had gotten all wide eyed and excited about that information, whispering among themselves about all the possible treasures they could find, marveling at every imagery they passed as mother urged them all to get refreshed after such a emotional journey, and Jace thinks that both of them need some good things to focus over, he is still haunted by the devastating sadness and tears that Rhaena wept during her mother’s funeral, by the way she clung to their grandmother afterwards like she was going to fall apart, haunted by the ugly bruise on Aemond’s face that he refused to explain, by the way he always has that cautious glint in his eyes whenever father or uncle Daemon are on the room, how he puts himself just the tiniest bit forward so that he is the one in front.

Jacaerys is not stupid or naive no matter what people may think.

He sees things, hears them much more clearly than the adults may realize.

Some things don’t need to be said out loud to be understood.

So yes, he is not that interested in old painting, or dusty tapestries or stone statues, but Rhaena and Aemond are, so Jace had made it his duty to search in the library for any book that could give him information about the origins of said things, burying himself into the books for almost the whole time they have been here.

They could make a afternoon of it he is sure, of exploring every nook of the castle until they know every painting and what or who they are supposed to represent, can point out each dragon carved into stone with precision, can name the battles and the fields stitched into the tapestries, until Dragonstone felt like home, until it became as natural for them to walk those halls as it was for the ancestors who built it.

The three of them are Targaryens, this castle belongs to them no matter what anyone may say about who they are or what is their worth.

His little friend however proved himself as a more urgent matter and Jace press his lips into a thin line as he hurries his steps, making sure to keep his new friend as steady as possible. He barely stops to knock on the heavy wooden door before he is pushing it open, not even waiting for the guard to do it or to receive a proper invitation, even if he knows his mother would pull his ear if she knew.

“Hel I need your help!”

Helaena is sitting in front of the window, holding a glass jar with small bugs against the sunlight, Jace assumes they must be ladybugs or something similar, she looks to be almost glowing with the way the light is hitting her hair, loose and framing her face, her dress is a blue that is almost gray not unlike the sky outside and if his invasion fazes her Helaena makes a good job of hiding it, her eyes only widen when she spots the little creature he is cradling to his chest, abandoning the jar so she can approach, hands centimeters from making contact with the bat.

“Oh you poor thing.” She coos, an almost pout on her lips as she gently caresses the bat’s head with a single finger, her eyes are worried when she looks at Jace “What happened to him?”

“I don’t know, he flew into the library and the maid almost killed him.” Jace says, not even hiding the upsetness in his voice “It’s too early for him to be going around, it’s not even noon yet, something must have happened to him and he got injured and crashed into the first place he could find.”

“Maybe he was hiding somewhere and someone entered it.” Helaena says, looking back at their little friend, her voice breezy and airy but one her hands close into a fist on her dress “Someone scared you, didn’t they little one? Oh yes they did, the monsters that walk in the daylight, the hunters waiting for the prey.”

“Hel?” Jace asks as he sees the way her eyes look distant, unfocused even as she still gently caresses the bat “Is everything alright?”

“It never stops spinning.” She whispers, sad in a way Jace cannot hope to comprehend “It will never stop spinning until the hands that reach for gold are cut. The enemy is in the blood Jace, the danger lies in the hole.”

Jacaerys has absolutely no idea of what Helaena is saying.

But something heavy settles on his stomach as the words wash over him, goosebumps on the back of his neck, like there is truly someone hidden that is just watching him, like Helaena just shared some terrible news, like the meaning of her words are on the tip of his tongue but he cannot truly decipher them.

It doesn’t matter that much, Jace frees one of his hands to offer it to Helaena, palm up in a invitation and she hesitates for only a second before using the hand previously clutching her dress to hold his hand, the cold of her skin a welcome contrast to the warm of his own. Jace squeezes her hand lightly, loosely enough that she could pull away at any moment and says nothing.

Helaena takes a breath like one does after waking up for a dream, shaking her head for a few seconds and squeezing his hand back tighter before moving away to retrieve something from her belongings, voice still soft, but more present now.

“I have some supplies that can help us. Please put him on the table.”

Jace does as he is told, gently pushing away papers and books to make space for the little bat and enough for them to work, using a random cloth he found to soften the wood enough, he keeps a gentle hand over the little bat, half to comfort him, half to make sure he wouldn’t try to fly away and injure himself more. Helaena is quick to return with bandages and others supplies for healing, Jace frowns a bit, uneasy about why she would need to keep such things with her, but says nothing, only accepting the damp cloth she offers him to clean to blood on the bats wing, as Helaena moves around searching for something among the vials she laid out.

They work most in silence, Jace is gentle as he wipes away the blood, revealing a nasty cut on the bat’s belly as well as a shallower one in his wing, Helaena hums softly as she applies something fresh smelling to the wounds, Jace tightening his grips on the animal as it trashes around with the unknown sensation.

“I don’t know if it will work on him, since it’s for humans” Helaena says, gently dabbing the excess liquid away from the creature’s fur “It is meant to help close wounds and it’s very effective if used correctly, if we see progress we must apply it twice a day.”

“It’s better than nothing.”

Jace shrugs, seizing the fact that Helaena is holding the bat to cut away the roll of bandages and some strips to tie it to him, he doesn’t know if bats can get infections but it surely cannot be pleasant for him to be going around with an open wound. They can't do much for his wing but Jace is confident that it can heal well enough on its own, bats wings are surprisingly resilient.

“He’s very gentle.” Jace says again because while he likes the silence, he also enjoys talking and is frankly itching to share his knowledgement of bats, Hel seems like the type of person who will enjoy hearing about it “Much more than I expected, bats can be very vicious when injured.”

“Truly?” Helaena asks, turning to look at him as he hands her the bandages “I would not think so, given how easily he has taken to our treatment.”

“Maybe he likes you.” Jace says just to see the small smile lightening up her face “Bats can try to bite and scratch when they feel cornered, or feel like they are in danger, I was honestly expecting to have to hold him with a towel to save my fingers.”

“He allowed you to hold and carry him first.” Helaena points out, still smiling softly “That means he likes you. Animals are very clever, they can see a good heart.”

Jace ducks his head to hide the red spreading over his cheeks. It’s not often that Jacaerys has anyone but his mother and father praising him for his goodness, someone who thinks that being a nice person is something to be proud of.

“He likes us both.” Jace settles for saying, smiling to the floor “We should find a place to put him, food and water to help him heal, he wouldn’t be able to fly long distances just yet so we must make sure he has all he needs. His wing can heal on its own if we give him rest and food so that he doesn't make it worse by searching for it himself.”

“A good heart.” The princess says again, finishing with the bandages and cleaning her hands with another damp cloth “What do they eat? We can surely find an unoccupied chamber to put him in to give him space to test his wings as they heal.”

“A bit of everything, honestly.” Jace shrugs, pointedly ignoring the compliment “Fruits, bugs, lizards, bark, nectar, even small rodents and fish on occasion. I don’t think it will be a hassle to find him something to eat.”

“We can go to the beach later.” Helaena suggests “Baela told me she wants to go swimming some time, we can all go and while we are there we can look for worms or spiders or even some fruits he may eat.”

“Make it a family day!” Jace exclaims, already excited by the idea “We can go after Rhaena and Aemond come back, it’s perfect, we can have a picnic and enjoy the day.”

“We can celebrate as well.” Helaena nods, sounding equally as excited

“Celebrate what?”

“Rhaena will find her match.” Helaena says, smiling softly and caressing the bat’s uninjured wing “It is waiting for her. It has been waiting for a very long time.”

Jacaerys doesn’t even think about questioning Hel.

“That’s amazing!” He smiles brighter, once again offering a hand for Helaena and she takes it squeezing for a moment “Hel, that is amazing news, she is going to be so happy!”

“They both are.” Helaena nods, her eyes shining for a moment before her smile drops a little “There is light before there is darkness.”

“And there is light after the darkness.” Jace says because he believes it and because he can’t have Helaena spiraling into sadness “I don’t know what you know Hel, I don’t understand it, but I know that our family is strong and we stand together now. Whatever darkness is coming our way, we will be together, I will not let go of your hand.”

Helaena takes a deep breath, her eyes shining again and Jace does his best to send her his most reassuring smile.

It’s the duty of an heir to be reassuring and secure, to make people believe in his words, Jace has been training for that since he was a young boy, but this isn’t about that. This isn’t about duty or his title or his mother’s position. This is about family, it’s about the fact that Hel keeps healing supplies in her belongings, the fact that she knows so well how to deal with wounds, with the fact that there is a heavy burden on her shoulders that none of them understand and Jace cannot bear the idea of her being crushed under it.

“Together.” Helaena echoes and smiles at him, brightly

“Together.” He says again, firmly

People are loud.

He doesn’t like people.

They stare and they point and they try to throw things at him when they see him approaching.

He learned how to hide.

He is very good at hiding!

Hiding in the smoke of the fiery cave, hiding in the cold mist of the sea, hiding high on the clouds until no one can see him, until there are no noisy people yelling or running.

He doesn’t like the others either.

They are big and angry and they snap their jaws at him when he approaches, one of them had cut him with his claws once and it had hurt, so he made his nest away from them and away from the people as well, in a place that hardly anyone goes to.

He doesn’t like people.

But the little people catching the shiny glass is different. That little people look soft, but not soft like the yummy fishes or soft like the strange fluffy animals that the loud people raise and get angry when he takes one to eat, soft like he can’t really understand.

The little people doesn’t see him, neither do the other people picking the shiny glass, there is a big people with a pointy thing on his hip that stands watching the little people with his hands on his hips, the big people is a talker and his voice is loud and grating, there is a big dragon lazily flying over him, red like the blood of the people, the big dragon saw him and keeps looking in his direction but the big dragon is leaving him alone, the other people is smaller, not as small as the soft people, but tiny too, and his skin is very white, a little bit like some parts of his scales, the pale little people is taking the pieces of shiny glass and putting it somewhere.

But he doesn’t care about the big people or the pale little people.

They smell different, they are taken. The big people smell like the big red dragon and the little pale people smell like ashes and blood, like something old and scary.

The soft little people doesn’t smell like anything.

He doesn’t know why because the little people look soft and soft things are nice. He doesn’t know why but the soft little people don't look as bad as the loud people with their pointy weapons and loud voices.

Maybe the soft little people would like him?

He moves closer, just a tiny bit, still hiding within the smoke of the fiery cave, but it’s enough for the big red dragon to make a noise, for him to fly lower, closer to where he is hiding and he makes a sound back.

He doesn’t mean anything bad!

He just wants to see the soft little people more!

The big people start looking around, calling the pale little people and his soft little people closer and he makes another sound.

What if they leave?

He doesn’t want the soft little people to leave!

He shakes his head and approaches, leaving the safety of his smoke and his fiery cave coming close enough that the people cannot miss his presence anymore.

The big people is fast, pulling the two little people behind him and taking a step back, his eyes are shiny, like stones. Now closer, he can notice that the big people smell a bit like the soft little people too, maybe she is his pup?

But he doesn’t care about the big people or the pale little people.

He looks at the soft little people.

The soft little people look back at him, her eyes are prettier, shinier than any eyes he has ever seen, and they look soft as well, big and round and her mouth is open but no loud sounds leave it and he likes her even more.

He approaches more, uncaring about the big red dragon flying closer and snapping his jaws at him from above. He needs to come closer to the soft small people! Don’t they feel it too? The way his blood sings for her, the way she sings back to him?

Don’t they have ears?

The soft little people darts from behind the big people before he can take another step back.

“Rhaena!” The big people hisses trying and failing to grab her

But the soft little people, Rhaena, Rhaena, Rhaena, something inside of him chants and sings louder and louder, doesn’t stop to listen to him, she comes closer still, one of her small soft hands extended in his direction, her eyes shining with wetness.

He makes a sound of distress because the wetness is bad. The people with wet eyes reek of bad fish, but the soft little people don’t, she smells like clouds and mist and the sea and he likes her smell.

The soft little people is not sad. He knows it, can feel it somewhere deep inside, no, she is happy.

She can hear it too!

He likes it.

The way they are singing for each other, she hears the song too!

She says something in a tongue he hardly heard before, but he understands it nonetheless. The soft little people is asking for him to serve.

Others have asked it as well, other people with the same pale hair and shiny eyes, the few who managed to catch him. But those people had been loud and angry and he didn’t like them, he didn’t want them to put their hands on him, didn't want to have their pointy things near his body.

But this people is soft.

He likes it.

He lowers his head and steps forward once more, allowing for her tiny hand to rest upon his head.

Her hand is very soft.

Their hearts beat as one the moment that they touch, he lower his head even more pushing it against her hand as he feels, not see, but feel deep inside of him, the tears cascading down her face, the emotions too big for such a little people, the joy and the sorrow of loss clashing against her, against them both.

Their hearts beat as one and he can smell it now.

She smells like smoke, mist and the sea.

She smells like him.

His soft little people.

She is his. And he is hers.

They are one now.

For the first time in their lives both of them feel complete.

“UNCLE LAENOR!”

Laenor turns so fast at the sound of his name being screamed that he can feel a burst of pain on his neck.

The courtyard of Dragonstone is mostly empty, Rhaenyra and the children tucked inside the castle and the guards and servants are so few they barely make a difference, a sharp but not unwelcome change from King's Landing and the endless sea of people that inhabit it, so the scream seems to echo.

His first instinct is to put a hand on his sword but he fights against the instinct when it registers in his brain that the scream sounded too joyful to warrant such a reaction.

Rhaena is running in his direction with the biggest smile he ever saw on her face even if there are clear tear tracks on her face, Daemon and Aemond are coming right after her, both smiling just as much.

Then a shadow falls over the courtyard and Laenor looks up to see an unfamiliar dragon flying alongside Caraxes.

It doesn't take much to connect the two pieces of information.

The dragon is not very big, smaller than Seasmoke and Syrax without a doubt, but big enough to take a rider, slim and almost easy to miss as it flies in the clouds, a soft gray color that blends with the grainy climate of the island.

“I HAVE A DRAGON!”

The little girl finally reaches him and Laenor takes no moment before picking her up and spinning around watching as she laughs delightedly.

It warms his heart, brings a little piece of it back to life.

Rhaena looked so devastated at the funeral it felt like she would never smile again.

He brings her to a hug, crushing her against his chest.

Still, a traitorous piece of his mind cannot help but remind him that it should be Laena here, hugging her child and giving her the congratulations, reassuring her, singing her praises.

He pushes the thought down, forces the sadness to the deep of his soul because he will not sully this joyful moment with it.

“And here I was, thinking that your father took you to see the dragonglass.” Laenor says, chuckling as he lowers her to the ground

“He found me.” She says, clutching at his hands, eyes wide and full of joyous disbelief “He found me uncle, like it was meant to be.”

“And it was.” Daemon says as he approaches with a slower pace, putting a hand over her head, smiling fondly at her “Of course it was meant to be, he was waiting for you.”

“You bonded with a wild dragon!” Aemond sounds almost giggly as he stops at Rhaena’s other side “That's so awesome! And he approached you! It was awesome, Lord Laenor, the dragon just went straight to her!”

Rhaena ducks her head but the smile looks almost stitched on her face, her eyes shining with joy and it reflects on Daemon as well, his shoulders look more relaxed, like a weight has been taken from him.

“RHAENA!” A new voice calls from behind, Laenor’s oldest boy bursting from inside the castle holding hands with Helaena who is dragging Baela with her, all three of them smiling from ear to ear “YOU DID IT!”

Before Laenor can properly blink his niece disappears among a mass of overexcited children, Helaena foregoing her usual avoidance of touches to partake in the group hug, Aemond tries to take a step back to avoid it but Baela is faster and drags him with such strength that Laenor almost fears they would all fall, their voices mixing into undistinguishable chatter, congratulations and praises and questions bursting from their mouths with such speed he cannot hope to comprehend.

The new dragon, Grey Ghost if Laenor is not mistaken, flies lower when Rhaena gets surrounded, big sea blue eyes fixated on her but he goes back to the sky quickly, probably noticing she is not under attack.

It takes a weight out of his own shoulders, the display of protectiveness. Given their current situation it feels absolutely amazing to know his niece has a fire breathing lizard looking after her as well.

“Look at that Luke.” A new voice huffs from behind again, dripping with fake offense “They are doing a group hug and didn't even invite us.”

Aegon approaches, Luke perched on his shoulders with his best attempt at an offended look, which looks equally adorable and ridiculous on his round childish face, arms crossed on his chest as Aegon precariously supports him by holding onto his legs.

Laenor just shakes his head, both exasperated and worried about the real possibility that his child will become quite familiar with the floor in a very harsh manner.

“This is a group hug for the cool children.” Baela says, all proper and serious as she keeps a tight grip on her sister

“Are the cool children around somewhere?” Aegon asks, dramatically looking around what makes Luke sway dangerously on his shoulders, but the boy just grins delighted and makes a show of looking around as well, arms still crossed and expression a mask of petulance

“Ass” Aemond murmurs loud enough to be heard

Aegon in a magnificent display of maturity sticks his tongue out to his brother before kneeling so Luke can jump off his shoulders, the two then promptly throwing themselves on the group hug, once more almost making them all fall backwards.

“Congratulations little cousin.” Aegon sounds sincere as he flicks Rhaena's forehead, a soft tilt to his smile “We saw your overgrown cat from the window.”

“You have a dragon now!” Luke smiles brightly, squeezing himself even more into the hug “We knew you would have one!”

“Thank you.” She smiles at both, poking Aegon on the side in retaliation

“I'm hurt that I missed this moment.” Baela says with a pout, but there is too much joy on her eyes for it to sound believable “Leaving me behind already! Imagine when you start flying!”

“I will never leave you behind!” Rhaena says and there is such conviction on her voice that Laenor feels his face softening, she grips her sister’s hand in hers “Never Baela.”

“I know, silly.” The other girl says, rolling her eyes even as she squeezes her hand back “Like I would ever let you leave me. You came to this world with me and I intend for it to stick for the rest of our lives.”

“You came to this world with me.” Rhaena disagrees with a playful smile “But otherwise I agree.”

“You wish! Father, tell her I’m the oldest!” Baela exclaims, looking at Daemon who makes a great show of stroking his chin as if deep in thought

“Nonsense, we all know I’m the oldest, as we all know who is the most responsible one, right father?” Rhaena also turns to look at their father who is still staring at the distance as if lost in thoughts

“You know… Can’t remember.”

“Father!” Both girls exclaim, full of outrage that only highlights how similar they are to each other, usually they have such distinctive manners that it’s absolutely impossible to confuse one with the other but now they have the exact same expression on their faces, the only difference being that Baela’s hair is significantly shorter

Daemon just laughs, the type of laughter that makes him look so much younger, the sun shining on his hair making him glow. Laenor once more understands why Rhaenyra has been longing for this man for a decade, there is something appealing to him, something even more alluring in being allowed to see this other side of him, to be one of the people he trusts enough to lower his guard.

“Can I assume the wild dragon flying over our heads is not just paying a visit?” Rhaenyra asks, calling attention to her arrival, a smile on her face

Rhaena pulls away from the mass of bodies surrounding her in order to throw herself at Rhaenyra, burrowing her face in her stomach, Nyra’s eyes widen for a moment in absolute shock before instinct takes her and she wraps her arms around the little girl, one hand on her back, the other caressing her head.

“You were right.” Rhaena says, her voice muffled, her arms tightening “My dragon was truly waiting for me.”

“Of course I was.” Nyra chuckles softly, squeezing the girl back “This is my special power, I’m always right.”

“Thank you aunt.” The girls had taken to calling Nyra that, after countless corrections whatever they dared to utter the word ‘princess’ but it still visibly moves her when they do

“Thank me for what?” Nyra shakes her head “This is all you, sweetling, I haven’t done anything.”

“You believed in me.”

“Always.” Rhaenyra assures her, gently pushing her away so she can gently hold her face between her hands “I will always believe in you, in all of you. Your mother is so proud of you Rhaena, she is watching over you and I can assure you, from deep inside my soul, that I know she is bursting with pride.”

For a split second Laenor is terrified that the mention of Laena will send them all into a spiral of sadness, not befitting such a joyous occasion, he braces himself for Rhaena’s eyes to fill with tears, for her to dissolve in sobs as she did during the funeral or in the early days when any mention of her name was like a stab wound, the gods know that Laenor feels like Nyra punched him with enough strength to knock the air out of his lungs.

But children have made their mission on this earth to do the exact opposite of what he expects.

Rhaena sucks a deep breath but then she just smiles, brighter than ever even if her eyes also gloss with unshed tears, her voice is soft, almost reverent.

“She is, isn't she?” Rhaena puts a hand over her heart “Grandma said the same thing, that mom would always be with us, that she is proud of us.”

“Cousin is a smart woman. I have to give her that, and no one, not even me, knew your mother better than her.” Daemon steps forward as well, his expression a weird mixture of found amusem*nt and deep grief “You and your sister are the greatest prides of her entire life, more than claiming Vhagar, and I know she is somewhere now, smiling from ear to ear.”

“And you?” Rhaena asks, softer than before

“There wasn’t a single moment of your life that I haven’t been proud of you Rhaena.” Daemon says, so intense and so genuine that Laenor has to look away, as if he is intruding in a moment that does not belong to anyone else “You and Baela are also the greatest prides of my life, the two best things I have ever done, and every day I must thank the gods for the gift that you both are. Of course I’m proud of you for claiming a dragon, but I am also proud of you, just for you.”

That is what brings the tears.

Rhaena let go of Nyra to throw herself into her father’s arms, Daemon lifting her up like she weighs nothing, moving slightly so that he can also pick Baela, both girls clinging to him like their lives depend on it, both held security on his arms as he kisses both of their heads, in such tenderness that no one would ever believe the Rogue Prince is capable of displaying.

Laenor knows he and his family are blessed to be witness to this side of Daemon, that this is the biggest display of trust that they could ever receive from the man.

Moved out of instinct Laenor moves so he can warp his own arms around Jacaerys’ and Aemond’s shoulders, Luke having of course moved to his mother’s side as soon as he noticed her approach, Jace looks at him with a smile that he returns with as much love as he can, his son moving so he can burrow deeper into his side, one hand holding his and the other holding into his tunic, Aemond also turns to look at him with wide eyes and a stiffness in his posture that is painful to feel under his palm but Laenor just turns to look at him with a smile, pretending not to notice the signals of distress.

Aemond doesn’t bury himself on his side like Jace but eventually his posture relaxes and he moves enough to be resting against his other side, looking at his own hands as he clasps them together as if not knowing what to do with them.

That’s fine with him, baby steps.

Luke never one to miss a opportunity for a hug from his mother burrows himself into her side with a content sigh and Rhaenyra glows with love as she strokes his hair lovingly, she uses her free hand to gesture for Aegon and Helaena as well, a expectant look on her eyes and Laenor almost chuckles when Aegon rolls his eyes and sighs long suffering but also melts against her side, resting his head on her shoulder, Helaena just taking a light hold of one of her hands, with a smile brightening her face.

This is why, Laenor realizes as a breath gets stuck on his chest, this is why we must go forward, why I must go forward.

He feels almost ashamed of himself for his early urges, for the thoughts that took root in his brain and heart and refused to leave, for the longing for oblivion that consumed him and urged him to just give up on everything.

He can’t do this, can’t leave Rhaenyra and Daemon alone in their most sacred duty.

Laenor assumed a responsibility the moment he chose to claim and love those children and he cannot abandon them the moment they need him the most.

He has make sure nothing make those children break and bleed to the point they cannot smile or trust again, it’s his duty to shield and protect those children, it’s for them he is fighting, for them he will plot and kills as necessary, and Laenor knows anything he will have to do will be worth it just to see those smiles on their faces.

For the first time in a long time Laenor feels like he can breathe.

Rhaenyra wonders, both amused and exasperated, when exactly this trip to Dragonstone has turned into a family retreat for all of them.

She had all the intention of the world to truly work during their stay, Dragonstone is after all her castle and her responsibility and there is only so much she could do from King’s Landing and some matters have been piling up in her absence, of course her main motivation to take this trip now was to get all the children away from Otto and his dangerous influence and give them a much needed reprieve from all the darkness that has been surrounding them all for far too long.

They were the one supposed to enjoy themselves, Daemon was supposed to keep an eye on them and also help Rhaena in her search for a dragon, maybe take the girl to the cave so she could try to bond with any of them or maybe find a suitable egg, Laenor and her had duties.

But then Jacaerys has looked at her with big pleading eyes asking for just one afternoon at the beach with all of them together, just enjoying themselves, since it was so hard for them to have a moment all together to explore a new location, and her son is such a dutiful boy, asks for so little and is so understanding when she has to deny him anything, that Rhaenyra could not, in good conscience, deny such a simple request.

One afternoon free of duties will not collapse Dragonstone, there is nothing so urgent that cannot wait for another day.

“It’s a good bonding experience for them.” Laenor says as he is sitting beside her, his shirt open and moving with the wind “Don’t look so worried Nyra, Rhaena bonded with a dragon, you can’t seriously expect that the children would not want to celebrate this.”

“You say this because the alternative would be looking at the fishing reports.” Nyra replies with a laugh shaking her head at him “You cannot fool me husband.”

“You cannot prove this statement, wife.” Laenor replies with a mischievous smile and throws a bit of sand on her as good measure

Rhaenyra laughs, finding a small stone and flickering it in his direction with far too little effort for it to do more than bounce out of his arm but Laenor, dramatic as one can be, clutches his shoulder and falls back, lying on the sand and pretending to be dead, eyes closed and mouth open.

“If you wanted to become a widow I could have helped.” Daemon says dryly, throwing himself at Laenor’s side, nudging him with his boot “You didn’t have to resort to murder in broad daylight.”

“Attempted murder.” Rhaenyra corrects him, poking Laenor in his side where she knows he is ticklish, smiling when he can’t hold back a snort of laughter “See? Still moving. But don’t worry, I will keep it in mind in case I ever need it.”

“If you ever want to become a widow, we could work something out between us.” Laenor says, still with his eyes closed, a ghost of a smile on his face “I heard Essos is lovely this time of the year.”

“If you make me a widow I will kill you myself.” Rhaenyra pokes him again, harder “You will not leave me to babysit Daemon by myself.”

“Since when do I need babysitting?” He exclaims offended, looking at Rhaenyra like she betrayed him

“Since your first solution to any problem is murder or a suicidal charge against an entire army.” Laenor replies without missing a beat

“Beg me your pardon, who came up with the idea of the suicidal charge in the first place?!”

“You looked very eager to accept it!”

“On second thought, maybe I should ask the children for help in babysitting.” Rhaenyra says, shaking her head at both of them “You are both equally as bad.”

“I would be offended, but I also feel like you have a point.” Laenor concedes with a chuckle

“I am offended.”

“Didn’t Rhaena have to remind you to take off your armor and wash your hands before dinner yesterday?” Rhaenyra asks innocently while Laenor laughs harder

Daemon just rolls his eyes and throws sand at both of them, purposely aiming at Laenor’s mouth who sputters and coughs at the taste, he sits up with eyes wide with betrayal as Daemon throws his head back in laughter.

Rhaenyra has to use all her self control to not burst into laughter when Laenor pounces on Daemon, making him lay on the sand with an aborted alarmed cry, both of them rolling around like children trying to get the upper hand.

“Children.” She adonish them even as she turns her head to the side to hide the smile on her face

“Go dad!” Jace screams from where he is, digging in the sand alongside Helaena, collecting worms in a jar while Joffrey plays in the sand at his other side, a wet nurse making sure he doesn’t actually eat any of it “You can do it!”

“Get him, Sir Laenor!” Aegon also cheers from where he is laying in a towel, waving a cup of grape juice around “I bet a golden dragon Sir Laenor wins it!”

“No way!” Baela kicks at Aegon’s leg “I bet two golden dragons that dad will totally win it!”

“I think uncle Daemon is a very skilled fighter and can get the upper hand.” Helaena says loud enough to be heard which makes Jace look at her with betrayal in his eyes

“Hel!” He exclaims deeply offended

“She is right and she should say it!” Baela says immediately

“No she isn’t!” Luke sounds offended as he returns running from the sea to better stare at the fight, dripping wet “Dad is totally an awesomer fighter!”

The two awesome fighters in question are too busy pulling each other’s hair to truly pay attention to the cheering going around them. Rhaenyra loses the fight against her laughter when Daemon throws sand in Laenor’s mouth again and he repays by biting his arm, the scenario too ridiculous for her to stand.

“I think sister could easily beat them both.” Aemond says without even looking away from the piece of dragonglass he is holding against the sun

Rhaenyra smiles victoriously when both men stop their silly fight enough to gap in mock offense at the boy, who bites back a smile as he picks another piece of dragonglass from his pocket, his hair hiding his expression, but Rhaenyra just knows by his shaking shoulders that he is holding back his laughter.

“Aunt Rhaenyra very obviously beats them in many ways, I think you are right.” Rhaena says from where she is sitting with Grey Ghost, the dragon more than happy to lay on the sand as the girl pets him

That makes Rhaenyra laugh harder even as her chest fills with pride, especially when Daemon does a double take to stare open mouthed at his daughter who just grins innocently back at him. Both men look at each for long moments before nodding to each other.

Rhaenyra doesn’t even has time to dread what that could mean before they both jump and in the blink of an eye Laenor is at her side, holding her in his arms, Rhaenyra barely has time to scream before Laenor is running at full speed towards the sea.

“Laenor don’t you f*cking dare!” She punches his chest but Laenor just laughs harder

Rhaenyra has enough time to hold her breath before Laenor dives into the sea, clutching her in his arms and coming back easily enough as if she weighs nothing, head throw back in such joy that Rhaenyra finds it impossible to be angry at him.

Curse Laenor and his stupid face and contagious laughter.

She turns around just to see Daemon coming back to the surface as well, Rhaena and Aemond clutching at his arms with wide eyes, both looking like half drowned cats as their hairs stick to their faces, both very obviously not dressed for a dive into the cold sea.

“Father!” Rhaena screams indignant as he laughs harder at her expression

“What?” He asks, shaking his head just to make the water hit all of them, Rhaenyra spitefully throwing water right back at him as she swims away from Laenor who just dips down the water again, disappearing from sight “I thought you would enjoy a dip sweetheart.”

“You are buying me a new dress!” The girl huffs, swimming away from him and just floating in the water, barely blinking when Laenor resurfaces just centimeters away from her head

Of course Laena’s kids would take to the ocean as one takes to air, Rhaenyra thinks fondly.

“Is this a bad moment to mention I don’t know how to swim?” Aemond asks as he is still holding into Daemon for dear life

“What?!”

“Daemon!” Rhaenyra hisses at the same time moving so she can pry her brother from his arms, holding him protectively

“How I was supposed to know the brat didn’t know how to swim?!” He replies, offended, “We are on a beach!”

“No one asked!” Aemond defends himself, holding into Rhaenyra now

“This is the sort of information you should be telling people when they mention going near dangerous and deep bodies of water, brat!” Daemon says, rolling his eyes at him “Didn’t you think this would be important for us to know?”

“It never came up! And it wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t throw me in the sea! I was content to just stay in the sand!”

“You are damn lucky I didn’t just throw you in the sea! This is the sh*t you have to tell us beforehand you brat, next time you will tell me you can’t eat nuts after I served you a nut cake!”

“You will not be throwing any children on the sea! Regardless if they can or not swim!” Rhaenyra interrupts scandalized

“But my children can swim, look!” He points at where Rhaena and Laenor are very much enjoying themselves in the water

“No children thrown into the sea!” She insists “You never know if an unexpected current will appear or something dangerous will happen!”

“You are no fun” Daemon rolls his eyes at her and Rhaenyra just has to exchange one look with Aemond before the boy dutifully throws water at his face

Daemon flips them off as Nyra laughs and swims back to the shore, holding Aemond in her arms, mindful to keep his head always above the water.

“Are you alright?” She asks gently as they approach the sand

“Yes, sister.” Aemond nods at her but Rhaenyra still searches his face making him continue “Truly, it wasn’t that bad, I knew uncle wouldn’t really let me drown.”

“Good” She sighs, relieved “Remind me to ask Laenor to give you swimming lessons before we leave for King’s Landing, gods know this is a new worry I didn’t realize I had to pay attention to. Do your siblings know how to swim?”

“Probably not.” Aemond shrugs, leaving her arms when they are close enough to the shore that he can stand without water covering his head, but Nyra still keeps a hand on his arms until they are totally out of the water, just in case

“Swimming lessons, for all of you.” She nods, decided “Laenor is an amazing maester, I’m sure you will find it fun.”

“It could be cool, I suppose.” Aemonds nods, before he frowns and starts patting at his pockets, expression dropping when he can’t find whatever he was searching for “My dragonglass shards are gone.”

“The water probably took it away.” Nyra says with a sigh, taking a towel meant for the children to try to dry herself a bit “Don’t worry about it, sweetling, dragonglass is abundant on the island, it will not be hard to get you more.”

“There is a cave with dragonglass nearby, uncle pointed it out when he took us the first time.” Aemond says eagerly “Would it be a problem if I went there to pick some more now? We are already here.”

Rhaenyra frowns, unsure.

But Aemond clearly learned one or two things with Jace because he turns to look at her with big pleading eyes and a pout on his lips who make him look just as young as he truly is and Rhaenyra feels her resolve crumbling at the display.

It’s so rare to see Aemond looking like a child, to have him asking for something for himself just for the sake of wanting something harmless, that it feels cruel to deny it to him. Gods, she wants him to ask her for things, to plead and whine like Jace and Luke do, to know he is allowed to have wants and express them even if they seem silly, even if they are about inconsequential things like shards of a pretty stone.

It’s still early enough in the day that the sun is bright, the day is clear and it’s such a peaceful day that she just sighs and nods.

“But you are taking a guard with you.” Rhaenyra finally settles “And you will remain with him at all times and obey him if he tells you to come back.”

“Absolutely!” He nods, an excited smile blossoming on his face “Thank you sister.”

“Where are you going?” Luke asks, showing at their sides immediately, big curious eyes “And can I go with you?”

Rhaenyra sighs before Luke even turns to look at her, cursing herself for being so soft on those boys.

She isn’t even surprised when Rhaena comes back from the sea just in time to tag along with the two boys, Daemon nodding his approval from where he is currently lying with a sleeping Joffrey on his chest, the baby tired from playing in the sand peacefully resting over him (and the sight does something to Rhaenyra’s heart that she cannot let herself fully acknowledge let alone name). Another guard is called to accompany them, because Rhaenyra is off the believe that one cannot ever be over worried about safety, and so the three children go, happily chatting about their new adventure, Rhaena and Aemond regaling Luke with the complete history of how she bonded with Grey Ghost, the dragon now lazily flying in the clouds.

She smiles softly at them before turning to sit besides Daemon, uncaring about how the sand glues itself to her wet skin and dress, and Daemon just smiles lazily at her, one of his hands gently caressing Joffrey’s back.

Jace and Helaena are now building intricate sandcastles, softly talking among themselves, while Baela and Aegon are running around the sand, laughing at each other and throwing provocations over silly things.

Rhaenyra smiles and burns this moment in the back of her mind, so that she never forgets it.

This, she decides, is what paradise must feel like.

Chapter 13

Chapter Text

“What’s so special about those stones anyway?” Luke asks as they trek by a barely there path, the beach already out of view, he is jumping slightly ahead of them, barely remembering to keep himself behind the guard leading the way “Aren’t they like, really worthless?”

“They aren’t really common to Westeros” Rhaena explains, walking in a far more controlled pace, looking above her frequently to check if Grey Ghost is still flying over their heads, which of course he is “In fact, Dragonstone is the only place it can be found, they aren’t worthless, it is just that no one here knows how to work with them.”

“ Zirtys perzys .” Aemond says, giving Luke a pointed look

“Frozen fire.” The younger boy translates easily enough, his attention now clearly more picked

“Valyria used to make ornaments and weapons out of dragon glass, there are some of them in Dragonstone, probably taken from there before the Doom, like the candles on the war room.” Aemond continues “It can’t be used for swords, because it shatters too easily to be effective so no one really bothers to do it, but it was used for daggers and arrowheads in Valyria, almost as much as the Valyrian steel, and just like it, the proper way to work with dragonglass ended up lost when the Doom happened.”

“It is not worthless or useless.” Rhaena remarks once more to Luke “It is a piece of our history, another thing that connects our House to both Valyria and Westeros, just because others cannot recognize the value of dragonglass doesn’t mean it doesn’t have any, you have to be careful with the shards as well, they are indeed sharper than steel.”

“ Oh ” Luke nods and picks up his pace even more, clearly more excited about the idea of going to see the dragonglass now, Aemond and Rhaena just exchange twins looks of amusem*nt before they too pick up their paces forcing the guards to do the same

The cave is not that far from the beach but in Dragonstone distance is a relative thing, the island is rather big, but mostly of it is void of anything but rocks and some animals that manage to live in it’s conditions, the smallfolk all concentrated in villages closer to the sea and as such close to the castle, leaving the rest of the island empty, they are a bunch of superstitious folks as well, kept away from the rest of the Island by the threat of the wild dragons that roam free and take the caves and the hidden paths as their nests as much as by the believe that the vulcan is a living thing that will consume those who come too close, the beach they chose to explore is farther away from the villages, a secluded location a little farther away from the castle than the spaces normally occupied by the habitants of the island.

As such, even if they aren’t that far away from the beach, they are still separated from it by rocky hills and narrow paths making it impossible for them to see each other unless they try to climb one of the highest rocks. The air is heavier as they go up, even if they are still so far away from the peak of the Dragonmont and Aemond wonders how much begging he would need to employ to try to convince sister to let him get even closer to it, just for the opportunity to see what hides behind the steam and the smoke.

He wouldn’t even need to walk, Vhagar, he knows, would be more than happy to give him a ride there.

Perhaps this is a conversation for another time, maybe for another visit, it was very generous of her to let them go to the caves after all and Aemond doesn’t want to push his luck.

Sister is kind and gentle, but even she has to have a limit when it comes to how much she can deal with his neediness. Aemond knows he isn’t a easy person to like, that he demands for too much and gives too little in return, is painfully aware of how much sorrow he has given his mother because of his inability to restrain himself and be what she needs of him, and it makes something unpleasant settle in his guts when he thinks about the fact that he is doing the same thing to Rhaenyra, that he is becoming a hardship for her, a burden she needs to carry.

He is not a child and he cannot allow himself to forget where he stands.

Sister is good and gentle and he cannot take advantage of her by demanding more than his share. Helaena and Aegon look so much happier now, so much more relaxed and unburdened now that their sister has offered them a safe haven, Aemond would never forgive himself if he somehow destroys this new found peace for them.

So he has to be smart about this, has to be on his best behavior, because he wants, he wants so desperately, to keep this.

He wants Rhaenyra to look at him with softness, he wants her hands to remain gentle when she touches him, wants her words to remain calm, wants it to be love to fill her eyes when she looks at him, wants her to want his presence, to enjoy having him by her side.

It would destroy him, Aemond realizes with some sort of horror, slowing his steps just enough that Rhaena can be in front of him and no one can see the way his hands tremble as he clutches his pants, the realization hitting him almost out of nowhere, cold settling on his insides as much as the sea water still dripping from his clothes. It would destroy him if did something to ruin this, if he makes Rhaenyra look at him the way grandfather does, the way mother does sometimes.

It makes his heart ache to imagine her hands leaving marks behind like grandfather’s or the maester’s, to imagine her eyes filling with disappointment, to feel her retreating from him like mother does when he becomes too much for her.

He had allowed himself to become too familiar with her gentleness, with the easy way Lord Laenor smiles at him, with the kind touches and infinite patience they show him. Aemond can’t forget how easily this can crumble, how easily he ruins things even when he desperately doesn’t want to.

Sister is good.

But even good people must have limits, there has to be a point where he pushes too hard, where he acts too insolent, where he demands too much. He feared that he had ruined everything when they were still in Driftmark and he, Jace and Baela had snuck out in the middle of the night so that he could try to claim Vhagar and sister had looked so angry when she found them, her voice the harshest he had ever heard.

Aemond remembers bracing himself when she turned her attention to him, remembers how it took everything in him to remain frozen, to not flinch from her hands, to not make things worse by being weak and letting his eyes fill with tears, to not beg for mercy, instead just trying to protect Jace and Rhaena.

Grandfather doesn’t like it when he cries, it only makes him angrier.

Mother always looks so broken by his tears, her hands shake, her eyes get wet and haunted, and she looks so lost . Mother has so much to worry about, so much to take care of between looking after father and her duties as a queen, it feels so selfish of him to place yet another burden on her shoulders, to be yet another problem for her to fix.

Sister had looked at his weakness and pulled him to her arms every time he had lost control of himself, she had remained gentle and caring as if she was soothing her own children and that is where the danger lies- Aemond is not her child, he is not Jace and Luke or Joffrey with their soft hearts and easy laughter, he is not his nephews who are so very easy to love.

Aemond has to take care. He has been asking too much of Rhaenyra, taking too much of her time, giving her too many burdens and doing nothing to pay her back for it all, surely it has to be reaching the point where Rhaenyra will soon tire of his entitlement and he cannot allow it to ruin the best thing that has happened to his siblings, has happened to him , he needs to rein himself in, to pay more attention to those things instead of just blurting stupid requests just because he wanted some silly shards of dragonglass.

The prince takes a shuddering breath, banishing those thoughts to the back of his mind, it is done now. He asked and sister allowed it, and she didn’t looked mad about it even if she did hesitate a bit before agreeing, so nothing is lost yet, there is time for him to rectify the situation, perhaps he should offer to help her with something, perhaps to keep Luke entertained while she worked so that he wouldn’t bother her, or anything to prove to her that he isn’t some leech.

“We are here!” Luke exclaims breaking him out of his musings, he waves at them even if Rhaena and Aemond aren’t more than a few steps behind him

The boy stands on the opening of the cave uncle Daemon had pointed out earlier, one of the guards already disappeared inside of it probably to make sure no danger lies within it, the other one stopping at the side of the entrance with his hand resting on his sword. The entrance is not that big, narrow enough that two grown men probably couldn’t fit past it at the same time but Aemond imagines the inside must be bigger as are many of the caves in Dragonstone, the hidden entrances to the tunnels that hide the dragonglass from the world.

Uncle Daemon explained that the shards they could find are probably leftovers of the times where people actually mined the tunnels, many summers ago when people still believed it could be used as iron is, or they are the result of the wild dragons squeezing themselves into the caves and breaking the boulders of dragonglass that are closer to the surface, in this particular case it must be the first scenario, the entrance would only fit a newborn dragon.

Grey Ghost flies lower over their heads, unable to truly get closer because of the sharp rocky formations that surround the entrance, Rhaena looks at him with a smile, still in disbelief that he truly belongs to her, waving at the dragon.

The guard already inside must say something because Luke turns his back to them, disappearing into the cave, Rhaena who was further ahead following him and Aemond hurries his steps to be able to reach them, excitement at the idea of finding more shards taking over him, banishing the dark thoughts for now. Maybe he will be able to find some coloured dragonglass, he heard that the purple ones are particularly beautiful.

But the smile dies on his lip as soon as he crosses the threshold of the entrance. He barely has time to register the fact that the cave is in fact bigger on the inside, or that the floor is covered with dragonglass.

Rhaena stands a few steps in front of him, frozen in horror.

The guard sent to accompany them stands further away, barely illuminated by the sunlight that reaches the inside of the cave, he has a dagger in his hand and is holding it against Luke’s neck, the other hand holding his hair, the boy trashing in his grip even if that makes the dagger nick the delicate skin of his neck.

The man looks at Aemond and Rhaena and the smile on his lips sends shivers down his spine.

Before he can even think of screaming, of calling for help, a heavy thump sounds at his side as a body is thrown almost at his feet. The eyes of the guard standing outside are wide, his face eternally frozen into a stunned expression as blood still pours from his throat, cut so deep Aemond swears he can see the bone.

Someone pushes him, forcing him to leave his position almost blocking the narrow entrance, another man with his own dagger dripping blood enters, a plain faced man wearing a fishman’s clothes that takes advantage of their shock to grab Rhaena and put the dagger against her throat staining it crimson, unlike the guard, this man doesn’t smile, his eyes as blank and hard as the stone that surround them.

“Are you going to run, little prince? Or will you stay to play with us?” The guard that was supposed to protect them asks, a mocking smile taking over his face as he tightens his grip on Luke’s hair making the boy whimper “What is your choice? You can go, if you wish.”

He could, Aemond realizes with absolute clarity and blood filling his mouth as he bites the inside of his cheek with all his strength.

He is so close to the entrance of the cave that he could easily throw himself to the safety of the open air before any of the men could come close to him, let alone actually grab him. And once he was in the open the danger would be gone, he can feel inside his bones that Vhagar is close by, that the ancient dragon reacted to his emotions enough to leave her resting spot and once he wasn’t stuck in a cave where she couldn’t reach him, Vhagar would take care of anyone who tried to harm him, she is not the fastest dragon in the world, but she always remains close to him.

Running would be a sure way of saving his own life.

But running means leaving Luke and Rhaena behind.

Running means sending them to their deaths, he is absolutely sure of it. They aren’t that far away from the beach but the time it would take for him to go back there and then bring someone back would be more than enough time for those men to slash their throats and disappear in the mountains.

It is not a choice.

It could never be one.

Aemond closes his hands into fists and lowers his head as he steps further into the cave, uncaring about the way Rhaena makes a sound of protest that is cut by the man’s hand closing over her mouth and how Luke just widens his eyes even more, still struggling against the guard.

The gods have a wicked sense of humor, Rhaenyra will decide later, when thinking back about this day, something bordering on cruelty.

She is just enjoying the peaceful day with her family, watching as the children play on the shallow of the sea alongside Laenor who is showing them how to float, Daemon sitting on a rock nearby just to keep an extra eye on them while she rests on a blanket laid on the sand, a book on her hands and her dress still drying on her body.

But then comes the sound of a horse, too hurried to be someone just passing by and she looks over to see one of the servants of Dragonstone dismounting.

The servant arrives closer with hurried steps, bowing deeply and apologetic when Rhaenyra notices him and after exchanging a quick look with Laenor approaches him with a frown on her face, a sight leaving her lips.

She is absolutely sure she requested to not be bothered unless it was an emergency that could not be solved without her presence.

The fact that there is someone bothering her does not bode well.

“I am sorry, my princess” The man bows even deeper as she gets closer and extends two letters to her “But the ravens arrived from King’s Landing with a warning that those matters need your immediate attention.”

“I see.” She nods, gathering both letters even as her mouth becomes as dry as a desert “Thank you for your service.”

She dismisses the servant with a gesture, the man bowing one last time before leaving her alone and Rhaenyra presses her lips together, struggling to not grip the letters hard enough to damage them.

This isn’t good.

This isn’t good at all.

Rhaenyra opens the smaller letter first, heart hammering inside of her chest even harder as her eyes land on the sigil. It’s a small piece of paper with uneven edges, probably a page ripped from somewhere else and hastily sealed with the Strong’s sigil in dark wax.

Harwin has never, in all the time they have known each other, in all the time they have loved each other, written her a letter directly. He has left her notes of course, slipped them to her in passing with a teasing glint in his eyes even as he bowed at her with respect, sometimes tucked them into a book she was reading or under her pillow before he left into the dead of the night. Even when he was away for long periods of time and they missed each other dearly, no letter had ever been exchanged, they had never dared to risk such a thing.

The letter is short, direct, even if the shakiness of the familiar handwriting and the little marks of water in the page tell a different story.

“ My father is dead. A sudden and strange sickness that the maesters could not heal, possibly something from the Free Cities.”

Rhaenyra sucks a breath, anger and sorrow at a battle inside her chest.

Lyonel Strong was a honorable man, a loyal Hand of the King and an ally to Rhaenyra’s claim to the throne, he never dared to pay too much attention to the rumors about her and Harwin, either truly ignorant or like her own father determined to be so, and Rhaenyra is rather fond of him. Harwin loved his father, she knows it, and she knows how much this must pains him, how hard it is to watch a parent slowly die in front of your eyes while no one seems to be able to do anything about it.

To have a beloved parent become a sacrifice for the sake of the Iron Throne.

And anger burns inside her as well because this is too perfect of a time for a coincidence. The Hand of the King falling ill and dying just as Otto Hightower is invited to stay at the Red Keep? Oh Rhaenyra knows that the chances of Lyonel Strong truly dying because of a natural sickness are as big as the chances of Rhaenyra abandoning Syrax.

The f*cking snake .

Dread pools in her inside like melted iron because she knows what the letter from her King is about.

Rhaenyra takes a shaky breath and breaks the Targaryen sigil, skipping the pleasantries so she can confirm her fears.

She and her household, as well as Daemon and her siblings, are being summoned to King’s Landing so that they can be present for the appointment of a new Hand. The letter does not say who it is, but unlike her father, Rhaenyra is not f*cking stupid.

Before Rhaenyra can open her mouth to call for Daemon and Laenor, an ear shattering sound cuts the sounds of joy of her family enjoying the beach behind her, the ground under them almost shakes.

Somewhere Vhagar roars again, even louder than before.

It’s only when the aftershocks of the dragon’s rage fade in the distance that Rhaenyra realizes that there is another sound cutting the silence. Helaena has fallen to her knees, screaming, voice so much louder than probably any of them have ever heard, Aegon and Jace are at her side, frantic faces and hands checking her for injuries while Baela holds her hand and whispers something, but Rhaenyra’s wide eyes automatically search for Daemon who is already running in the direction of the caves, where their other children have gone not long ago.

They know, deep inside their souls, that something deeply wrong is happening.

“Nyra!” Laenor’s voice is sharp, and he is at her side in the blink of an eye “Take the children and go, I will go with Daemon.”

“Go.” Rhaenyra nods, squeezing his arm quickly before pushing him in the direction the Rogue Prince has vanished into

Laenor runs at the same time that Rhaenyra also runs towards the children, the guards do not need to be told anything to close circle around them, weapons drawn and shoulders tense as they look around expecting an attack, Rhaenyra takes Helaena in her arms, half supporting and half dragging the girl who has stopped screaming but whose eyes are overflowing with tears, clutching at her arm with a painful grip, Aegon pulls Jace and Baela close to himself, holding into them for dear life and they almost run back to the castle.

There are no surprises on their path, Vhagar does not emit any other sound even if Rhaenyra can see her massive form flying too close to the ground right where the children said they would go, and before long Rhaenyra and the children are locked into one of the rooms at Dragonstone with guards inside and outside and the whole castle on alert in case a attack happens.

It wouldn’t. Rhaenyra knows it deep inside her soul as she rocks Jace in her lap, Helaena buried in her side, Jace having a death grip on her hand, Baela crying softly against her other side with her tiny fists clenched on her dress, and Aegon paces in front of them with such worry on his face that he looks to be so much older.

Nothing will happen to them because Otto’s target is not with them.

Perhaps Daemon is a bit of a dragon dreamer as well.

“Ya know little prince, I thought this would be harder.” The guard’s smile widens even more, his tone flippant like he isn’t holding a dagger against a child’s throat “But you made it so easy, presented us with the opportunity on a silver plate, we couldn’t pass it up! It would be better if you had come alone, but surely no one would mind a little collateral damage would they?”

The other man levels his partner with a sharp glare, his grip on the dagger is looser, more threatening than truly hurting Rhaena, and once more he does not express or say anything, just a look at the guard before he turns his attention back to him.

Aemond feels like the world is spinning around him, like they have taken the ground from under his feet and he is free falling into the emptiness.

My fault.

He thinks as he bites his cheek even harder, blood filling his mouth even more, the man’s words branded in his brain with fire.

This is all my fault.

He swallows the urge to burst into tears, to do anything that may tell the men he is an easy target. He forces himself to look at the guard, to not let his body tremble even if his voice is shakier than he would have liked.

“Why are you doing this?” He tries to demand, clenching his hands into fists hard enough to draw blood as well

“Does it matter, little prince?” The man chuckles, shaking his head

Of course it matters. An attempt on the lives of the royal children is a serious matter, something to be investigated so that the culprits can be made an example of, so that others look at what happened to them and feel afraid of trying and having the same fate.

Knowing if the man is acting on his own or if he was sent by someone is a priority.

But at the same time it truly doesn’t matter.

Why are they doing it, who sent them to do it… It doesn’t matter now, what matters is that they holding daggers against the necks of Rhaena and Luke, what matter is that one wrong move and Aemond will have to watch as his friend bleed to death because he is so f*cking stupid and so f*cking selfish and led them straight into a trap.

“No.” He says and the man just nods almost as if approving his words “But you have to know you are not leaving this island alive if you harm us.”

Outside the sun gets obscured for a moment as if his words have summoned Vhagar, he can feel her, feel her rage and her worry and he can only imagine Grey Ghost must be feeling the same thing, Arrax must be going crazy in the dragon pit where the younger dragons were left as well, all of them feeling their emotions through their connections.

These men must know that the dragons will not take kindly to their actions, that even if they can escape the humans, their companions are another matter altogether.

“Living is not all that important, my prince.” The man holding Rhaena says, his voice is a low murmur “Some things matter much more, some sacrifices must be done for the sake of it.”

“We are not sacrifices!” Luke hisses, trying to kick at the man holding him “Let us go and our mother will be merciful.”

“Now that is a joke if I ever heard one.” The guard laughs, not moving an inch

“She doesn’t have to know.” Aemond tries to bargain “You can leave and we will wait for you to disappear from sight before going back, it will give you time to leave, to hide.”

“Your beast has shook the earth, my prince.” The second man shakes his head, a ghost of a smile lifting the corner of his mouth. “We are on borrowed time now, surely they must know something is wrong, soon enough they will arrive.”

“Another reason why you should just let us go and run!” Luke says, finally stopping moving when the guard presses the dagger even more against his neck, his blood already staining his shirt

“Or another reason why we should just cut your throats and leave you to bleed.” The guard replies, almost mocking “What do you say, little prince, whose throat should we cut first?”

Aemond feels sick.

“Please.” His voice wavers, dread making bile rise to the back of his throat “Please don’t hurt them.”

He hates begging, especially because he knows it’s useless, that he could cry and beg until his throat was raw, that it would mean nothing to those men, especially to the guard who seems to be taking a sick pleasure in the whole act, something shining on his eyes when he hears him beg.

“Oh, so the little royal brat does know how to beg.” He throws his head back in laughter “I didn’t know you spoiled little brats even knew that was a possibility. All mighty, so proud of your foreign heritage, of the monsters you use to torment and scare the rest of us, so high on your pride and power as you step on those beneath.”

Aemond thinks he has begged so much in his life he has already learned that it is useless.

No one has ever cared when he begged, when he pleaded for anything, especially not when he asked for mercy.

No one has ever shown him mercy, besides sister, uncle Laenor and uncle Daemon, no one has ever chosen to be kind, to spare him of pain before them, of course it wouldn’t be those men, holding daggers against the throats of his family, who will.

It's all his fault.

His stupid self who wanted to leave the safety of the beach, just for some stupid shards of stone, his stupid self who was eager to have Rhaena and Luke with him, who wanted someone to talk with, to share his findings.

His fault.

And now Rhaena and Luke are being held with daggers to their throats.

Now the only three people who had been soft with him even when he has done nothing to earn it will lose their children all because Aemond is so stupid, so selfish.

He truly destroys everything he touches.

His eyes burn with the tears he refuses to shed. He will not give them the satisfaction of seeing his weakness, he will not give the guard the submission and brokenness he so clearly wants to see.

Aemond knows men like him. Men who want to hurt because they like the power of seeing their victims in pain, of having them reduced to tears, to have them offer everything and anything in exchange for mercy. He has not bowed to the maesters and their discipline, not even to his grandfather and his harsh words and harsher hands, he will not bow to this guard either.

He looks away from the guard and Luke to look at Rhaena instead, the girl is frozen in the man’s grip but her eyes are sharp, narrowed, his hand still covers her mouth but she gives him a long look, eyes going to the hand over her face to the entrance of the cave, and then going from him to the guard and Luke.

Aemond bites his lip.

It’s hard to truly communicate without words but he thinks he understands roughly what Rhaena means. She again repeats the gesture, making sure to not move an inch as to not alert the man holding her and Aemond just nods the tiniest bit, her hands move just the tiniest bit, five fingers being lowered one by one in a too deliberate manner to not be a countdown.

The prince takes a breath, and readies himself, watching as Rhaena lowers her last finger, both men clearly dismissing her existence unaware of her actions.

It happens fast, as it has to, in order to take the two men by surprise.

Rhaena bites down on the man’s hand hard and he shouts in pain and surprise, the dagger falling from his grip as he instinctively pushes her away from him, Rhaena, mouth dripping blood, turns quickly and kicks him in the balls so hard he drops to his knees and darts to the entrance of the cave, stopping on it’s treehould clearly waiting for them.

The moment that the man shouts, the guard looks in his direction startled, his grip on the dagger loosening enough that Luke, catching up quickly to their plan, struggles harder, landing an elbow on the man’s gut, with his breath taken away his grip on his hair also loosens significantly. Aemond darts forward, grabbing unto Luke and pulling him with all his strength, tuffs of his hair get yanked off but between them they have enough power to free Luke from him.

The guard’s face turns into a mask of rage, something ugly and twisted, made worse by the fact that there is still a smile on his face that is all teeth, lifting the dagger in Luke’s direction, ready to strike.

Aemond doesn’t even think, barely has time to realize he is moving until he feels pain taking hold of him, his own voice screaming as his blood flows hot and heavy, he barely. Luke and Rhaena scream as well, and Aemond is too lost in pain and blood to understand what is happening around him until hands close around his wrists and start pulling him along, Luke’s smaller hand on his right, Rhaena’s warmer hand on his left.

He breathes through his mouth, panic and confusion clouding his mind just as much as the blood does his vision, his whole face throbbing and burning. Vhagar roars outside, the cave shaking with the strength of her rage. His friends are saying something but it is all nonsense in his mind, he can barely think straight.

But even then Aemond knows they have a problem, he forces himself to push it all down and focus because he can’t slow them down, can’t be a burden.

The entrance is not big enough for them to pass together and the two attackers are quickly regaining their footing, he can almost feel them rushing to grab them back.

The entrance is not big enough for them to pass together.

It’s not a choice.

It could never be one.

Aemond barely has time to pull his hands from their grips, staggering backwards with how hard he has to pull in order to free himself for their desperate attempts into holding him, both his wrists burn with the scratches their nails leave behind. He ignores their shouts, ignoring everything as he pushes them with everything he has, feeling more than seeing them fall outside.

They both scream, perhaps they say his name or they can even say something but Aemond can hardly hear it over the blood rushing through his ears, the relief flooding his whole body enough to make his shoulders shag.

They are outside.

They are safe.

The dragons will make sure of it.

That's all that matters.

He barely has time to breath or take another step towards safety himself before a hand closes around his arm pulling him roughly, he is so close to the entrance he can feel the wind on his face, can see Vhagar’s massive form, can feel the heat from her insides as she roars again, flames erupting from her mouth and consuming the air over their heads.

Regret burns inside his chest.

Vhagar doesn’t deserve to feel this.

I’m sorry, he thinks to her, I’m so sorry you will have to feel my pain . You will be alright, you will find someone to love you as you deserve after I’m gone. Thank you.

I love you.

He throws himself forward, desperately hoping, praying to gods he doesn’t know if he believes in, that it’s enough, that he can make it outside just enough that it will stop their attackers.

He doesn’t want to die.

There is so much he wants to do, so much he wants to see.

He wants to fly with Vhagar away.

He wants to ask uncle Daemon to teach him to fight.

He wants to asks sister for a hug.

He wants to have swimming lessons with uncle Laenor.

He wants to hear Helaena talk about her insects, to collect new ones with her.

He wants to read with Rhaena.

He wants to play with Luke.

He wants to explore Dragonstone and the Red Keep with Jace.

He wants to spar with Baela.

He wants to hold baby Joffrey.

He wants to watch Aegon draw, wants to laugh at his stupid jokes.

Vhagar roars again, so loud he can barely hear a man’s scream cut off abruptly. But there is still a hand holding his arm so hard he thinks it will shatter at any moment, he can feel the guard’s armor digging into his body as the man throws him to the floor, they are outside, he knows it by the way the wind assaults him making the wound sting even more, but they are too close together as well, the man almost on top of him.

He knows, can feel it through their bond, can taste Vhagar’s rage and frustration, understand that there is nothing she can do without harming him, feels her emotions blurring with his own until he doesn’t know if he is crying for himself, for her or for both.

This is not your fault. You did everything you could. I love you.

That is all that he has time to think before pain is all he knows once more.

The first sound Rhaenyra hears as she stares anxiously out of the window, children still tucked so firmly against her they may as well be trying to become one with her, is Daemon’s voice, loud, louder than she has ever heard and frantic, still not loud enough for the words to travel to her as the gates open for him.

It doesn’t matter, she knows exactly what he is saying.

Even from a distance Rhaenyra can see, sickeningly well, the small body covered in blood that he is carrying, the pale silver hair dyed crimson.

Chapter 14

Chapter Text

“Go see your daughter.” Laenor stands, tall and proud with his arms crossed over his chest, right in front of the target Daemon had been in the middle of destroying

“She’s with her sister.”

“She should be with her father.”

“She is exactly where she needs to be.” Daemon huffs, annoyance twisting his features “Get the f*ck out of my way, Laenor.”

“No.” The younger man says easily, looking him straight in the eyes

“I’m not asking.” His teeth click together as he clenches his jaw, voice no more than a dangerous murmur

“And if I don’t? Are you going to cut me down?” Laenor tilts his head, dreads of white hair falling over his shoulder, purposely or not exposing his neck

“I f*cking should .”

“You f*cking should be with Rhaena.” Laenor bites back, anger finally coating his voice “Your daughter just went through something terrible and you are here, still f*cking covered in blood, destroying straw targets.”

Daemon glances at himself, he wasn’t wearing armor or anything of the sort, his shirt previously a sky blue is now stiff and the dark red of dried blood, there are even some of it on his pants from where the blood dripped.

There was so much f*cking blood, so much that Daemon could barely see where the wound on the brat’s body was, the one on his face also particularly hidden by how much he had bleed. His blood was so warm where it soaked him, such a sharp contrast to how cold the little body on his arm was.

Rhaena had been fine , he had roughly grabbed her, ignoring how Grey Ghost came close to biting his head off if Caraxes had not pushed the other dragon away, to look for injuries but aside from shaking like a leaf and crying her heart out her daughter had been uninjured. Lucery’s had a cut on his neck that Laenor was quick to force his own shirt against, the boy in absolutely hysterical cries and screams.

His daughter is not in danger anymore, not a single injury on her.

There is nothing Daemon can do for her.

He knows himself and his flaws, is intimately familiar with his shortcomings and this is one of them. What could he possibly do for her now? There is no foe to strike down, no danger to eliminate, she is protected within the walls of Dragonstone.

There is nothing Daemon can offer her.

“What else would you have me do?” He bites out, exasperated, sword clashing to the ground as he opens his arms “I brought her back to safety and left her with trusted guards.”

“I don’t f*cking know Daemon, maybe act like her f*cking father?”

“And what do you know about fatherhood, Laenor?”

Perhaps he deserves the punch thrown in his way. Laenor is as fast as his dragon and he moves before Daemon can even realize what he is doing, when he spits the blood out of his mouth Laenor is back at his original position with his hands in a fist and a challenge in his expression.

A challenge Daemon accepts eagerly.

Before long they are rolling on the ground, his fists trying to hit every piece of exposed flesh while Laenor gives as good as he gets. The young knight is good , Daemon has to give him credit where it’s due, while in a swordfight Daemon would probably wipe the floor with him easily enough, in a fist fight like this one he can more than hold his own, he is quicker than Daemon and clearly used to fight dirty.

But it isn’t long before exhaustion slows his movements and Laenor strikes, fast as a snake, twisting their bodies until he is pinning Daemon to the ground with his hips, a hand holding his right wrist, the other pinned between their bodies and Laenor’s free hand around his neck, not choking but in the right position to do so.

They both are panting in exhaustion. Blood drips from Laenor’s forehead and stains his lips, soon enough Daemon knows bruises will blossom on his dark skin where his fists landed, but he can’t say much because he knows his own skin will be marked black and blue soon enough, blood drips from his own mouth and nose even if he doesn’t believe it to be broken.

He tries to kick Laenor off him, but the Velaryon heir grits his teeth and tightens his grip on his throat until black spots dance in his eyes. When Daemon finally gives up, he lets go of his neck altogether.

“Are you f*cking done?” Laenor asks through gritted teeth

“Yes.” Daemon says, turning his head to the side to cough as air returns to his lungs “f*cking asshole.”

“Rich coming from you.” Laenor still holds him down with his body weight but he does release his wrist as well, using his free hand to wipe the blood off his forehead “Is violence the only way you know how to deal with sh*t?”

Daemon just laughs, humorlessly, resting his head on the ground and staring at the sky.

Yes. Of course it is.

Daemon is a warrior, it’s with the sword he found comfort, it’s how he has fixed, and caused but that’s not here or there, everyone one of his problems. Violence is always bubbling just underneath his skin, ready to explode at the minimum provocation, the blood of the dragon in his veins, hot and heavy, always ready to torch the world around him.

Daemon is a blade, sharp and dangerous.

Made to cut, to make bleed.

Made to hurt .

“Rhaena doesn’t need me.” He closes his eyes, unwilling to see Laenor’s reaction to his next words “She needs Laena.”

Laena, who knew how to reign her own fire, how to use it for warmth rather than pure destruction.

Laena who knew how to love softly, kindly. Who smiled without blood in her mouth, whose hands knew how to caress instead of grab, who had soft words and soft arms to protect their daughters from the world, to nurture them.

Daemon could teach the girls how to fight, he could destroy anyone and anything that threatened them, but he could never, will never, be able to fill the void that Laena left behind in all of them.

His wife was fierce and brave and stubborn, but unlike him, she knew how to be soft, she knew how to open herself to the world. He had tried, gods how much he had tried, to be a man worthy of her, worthy of their daughters, but Daemon knows he failed, knows he was stubborn and dismissive, knows he failed to convey how much he truly loved her, how much he cherished her existence, how he would never, in a million years, choose to butch her for a babe.

He failed Laena and he has failed their daughters.

His anger is a poison running in his veins and he can’t allow himself to let it flow to his daughters as well. Baela is so much like him, so much fire, so much anger burning in her insides that he knows his presence is dangerous to her, let she decides to shape herself in the same twisted mold as him, and Rhaena , Rhaena is so much Laena that it hurts.

He will ruin them. And he would rather die than do that.

Laenor is right, violence is how he deals with his problems, but is not violence that his daughters need, so how can he do anything, when he has nothing else to offer.

“Perhaps you are right.” Laenor says, voice heavy but steady “But my sister isn’t here. You are.”

“I will ruin them.”

“You are ruining them with your absence.”

“I know.”

“Then do something about it.” Laenor says with finality, like it is that easy

“What? What can I do?” He tries to make the word sound like a challenge, like a accusation, but by the way Laenor’s face soften he probably just sounds desperate

“Be there for them, Daemon. If you don’t know what to say, then say nothing, but be there to listen to them, to hold them.”

Finally the prince consort gets up, offering him a hand to do the same and Daemon just sighs, deep inside his chest before accepting the hand, a grunt of pain escaping his mouth as his new injuries protest the movement, Laenor, the utter bastard, has the galls to smile at him.

“But for the gods’ sake, change your clothes first.”

Daemon just punches his shoulder in retaliation.

But he does clean himself and puts on clean clothes before going to find his girl’s curled together in Baela’s bed, the girl holding her sister like she is trying to protect her from the world.

It twists something inside of Daemon, to see the tear tracks on Rhaena’s face, the gentle way Baela holds her and pets her hair, like it’s natural for her to assume the role of comforter, for her to protect and support her sister in her time of need, when it’s Daemon’s duty, one that he has failed spectacularly at.

He knocks softly on the doorframe to announce his presence and both girls turn sharply to look at him. Rhaena’s eyes fill with even more tears even if she doesn’t allow them to drop.

“There are any news?” It’s Baela who asks, hands twisting anxiously on her lap “Is Aemond alright?”

“The maesters are still with him.” He says gently, closing his eyes to avoid giving in too much. “Someone will come find us, when there is news.”

“I was holding his hand.” Rhaena says, voice shaking, eyes shining with tears “I was holding his hand but he pushed me away and then the guard was pulling him and there was so much blood .”

Daemon heard it already, or the bare bones of it at least, the two children too hysterical to properly explain anything besides the fact that they are ambushed, that the men held daggers to their throats and tried to make Aemond choose one to die, that they managed to break free but somewhere along the way the guard got to them and his nephew ended up injured. The details will come in time, he is sure, once the children have time to calm down.

One of the men is dead, Vhagar burned him so badly there wasn’t any way to try to identify who it was. The other, the guard who cut Luke’s neck and stabbed Aemond, is being treated by a maester as well. The man had cut his own throat when Daemon had pulled him away from his nephew, and while he didn’t pay too much attention to his condition he knows he will probably not survive the night.

He had too much time to pay attention to Aemond’s condition. Time enough to fear that his nephew will also not survive the night.

Rhaena is right, there was blood everywhere, the boy was screaming when they first arrived, but he had fallen unconscious even before Daemon picked him up to bring back to Dragonstone, most of his blood had ended up on Daemon’s body.

“He protected me.” Rhaena continues, still looking at him with those wide tearful eyes “Me and Luke. And I tried to protect them too, I bit the man who was holding me, pushed him away, just like you taught me, so that we could run.”

“You did good Rhaena.” He finally moves, sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand cupping his daughter's face, mouth tasting of ashes “My brave, brave girl. You protected him and your dragon helped us find you, you did everything right, I’m proud of you.”

He doesn’t know what to say more, doesn’t know how to relieve the burden of that moment from her daughter’s shoulders, doesn’t know how to erase the worry and devastation on Baela’s face either.

So he follows Laenor’s advice and pulls both girls to him, adjusting himself until he can rest against the headboard of the bed, holding both of them against his sides, as if his presence can somehow make it all better, as if he can erase everything bad that happened to them with the strength of his love.

Daemon can only hope and pray to gods he doesn’t truly believe in, that it is enough.

Rhaenyra refuses to allow herself to cry.

Even now that the storm was lulled itself to a drizzle, now that her children are all under her roof with handpicked guards keeping watch over them, now that the men responsible for this are dead or at death’s door, now that her son, her sweet son is safe in her arms, Rhaenyra refuses to break.

She doesn’t know if she will be able to hold the pieces together if she does.

Her son, her precious, caring, brave little boy almost died today. She had felt faint, unstable on her own legs when Laenor arrived with Luke on his arms, blood dripping from his neck, even when the maester looked at his injury and deemed it superficial enough to not need stitches her hands still shook from where they gripped her boy.

Never before Rhaenyra felt such a panic as the one who still curses through her veins. Never again she wishes to feel anything like this again, this open hole in the middle of her chest, this unsteadiness that makes her feel like the whole world is moving too fast for her to be able to hold onto anything.

Rhaenyra doesn’t understand how her own mother didn’t went mad with the pain of her lost babes, when just the fright of almost losing Lucerys has changed Rhaenyra on such a level she doesn’t think she will ever be able to undo, there will always be, in the back of her mind, the worry that something will happen to take her boy from her arms.

But, her heart clenches on her chest, perhaps she will soon be familiar with the pain that plagued her own mother.

There is only a wooden door separating Rhaenyra from her young brother, but there may as well be an ocean between them.

She hugs Luke close to her chest, as if she could bring him back inside her womb where he would be safe from all the evil of this world, blinking back the tears that refuse to fall.

She can’t break.

Because if the worst comes to happen, if her little brother doesn’t survive… Someone will have to be there for the children, someone will have to hold them and wipe their tears and help them deal with their grief, with the void of the absence of someone they have come to love so dearly, Rhaenyra can’t do that if she is broken in a million of tiny pieces herself.

Unbidden, she remembers that night, which feels so long ago it could as well be another life even if it was such a short time ago, before they left for Driftmark. How Aemond burst into her chambers with wide eyes and a bruise on his cheek, how he pleaded for her to help his siblings as if his own pain was inconsequential, how he tried, with a maturity he should never have to possess, to console and calm her as if it was his duty to make her feel comforted and not the way around.

Her sweet little brother, always putting himself after others, always valuing their emotions before his own.

For him, Rhaenyra can’t break. Not now, not when she can still cling to desperate hope that he will be alright, that he will survive, not now that she has a castle of terrified children to embrace and nurture.

She can’t break until she knows that her little brother is alright, that he will live. After that, she can allow herself her tears, can let the fear flow unbidden by her heart, because her baby brother will be recovering, because they will have good news to give her other children, she will cry all her tears so that she can sit at his side and offer him the space to cry.

It still makes her heart ache, the way he reacts when she offers him kindness, when she refuses to let him take care of her. She will cry, later, in private, so that the burden of her fears and pain do not fall on any of her children, once their tears are dry, then she will allow hers to flow.

“He should have left.” Luke says, suddenly pulling her from her own mind

Her boy is clinging to her, his small hands fisted into her dress and his head hidden in the crook of her neck, his voice muffled by her skin, the bandages at his neck send shivers down her spine and she gently caresses his hair.

“Who, sweetling?”

“Aemond.” He says, tightening his grip on her dress “The guard said that he could leave, if he wanted. But he didn’t. And then when we were running, he pushed me out of the way, twice. If he had left, he wouldn’t be hurt.”

Warmth fills her insides even as tears burn at the back of her eyes. She doesn’t have the details of what happened, didn’t bother to ask after discovering that the men had been dealt with, but somehow this doesn’t surprise her.

“If he left, you and Rhaena would be hurt.” Rhaenyra says, kindly, shivering at the idea “He wanted to protect you.”

“Well, he shouldn’t!” Luke bites out even if his voice sounds wet “He should have left or he should have let the man hit me with the dagger the first time, because then he would be less hurt.”

“Would you have left? If that man had offered you the same thing?”

Rhaenyra knows the answer, knows what choice every single one of her sweet, loving, stubborn and selfless children would make. It both endears her and fills her with the utmost dread and terror.

“He should have left.” Luke insists, instead of answering her “I didn’t want him to get hurt.”

“I know, Luke, and he knows too.” She hugs him a bit tighter “It was not your fault sweetling, none of this is your fault.”

“Is he going to die mom?” Her boy’s voice breaks, tears wetting her neck

“I don’t know Luke.” She answers, because she cannot bring herself to lie about this, not when a lie would break them both

“I don’t want him to die.”

“I know, Luke.” She kisses his head, heart breaking all over again as he shakes on her arms “I don’t want him to die either.”

Please, she begs the gods as she holds her crying son in her arms fighting her own breaking heart, please don’t take him from me. Please I have had so little time with him, don’t make me grieve for him longer than I have had him.

Jace is tired of crying.

He wishes there was something, anything he could do, but cry.

But there isn’t to do, not really, and his insides burn with the need to do something, to find a way to fix the sadness that has settled over Dragonstone like a dark cloud and threatens to suffocate them all.

All he can do is cry and hold Helaena as her own tears drip.

They are holding each other truth be told, curled into an otherwise empty room in Dragonstone trying to hide themselves from the world and the soft words of comfort from the adults around them because they are both painfully aware that as kind as the words are they are equally as empty.

Aemond is close to dying, Jace didn’t need to see him to know, the look on his father’s face and the blood in uncle Daemon’s clothes spoke loudly enough. Luke was hurt, Rhaena as well and rage bubbles underneath his skin with nowhere to go.

His little brother was hurt and Jace wasn’t there to protect him.

Helaena shares his feelings, he knows, because her little brother was hurt too, they understand each other without having to exchange words.

The bat Jace saved is resting close by, looking at them with curious eyes and tears drip down his face again. Did the little thing try to warn them? Did those men scare him from his home when they hid there to hurt his family? Jace finds himself hating them even more.

He hopes it was painful, when Vhagar set one of them on fire.

And he hopes, even knowing it isn’t right, that the other one dies as well.

They hurt his family and that is unforgivable in his eyes.

Helaena holds him a bit tighter, as if sensing the turmoil going inside his brain, the sadness and the anger battling to see which one wins in the end. She hasn’t said a single word since they left the beach, but she had held onto Jace like she would be lost and he had clung back to her. They had only let go of each other once, when his father had returned with Luke and Rhaena and he had throw himself into his brother desperate to hold him and make sure he is truly there, alive even if injured, and besides him Helaena had clung to Rhaena, holding her as the younger girl cried.

But soon enough as the two younger kids were taken to see the maesters and answer questions about what happened they had found their way to each other, hands clasped together as if they had never parted in the first place.

Helaena is keeping him tethered to earth, he decides as he clings tighter to her as well, he would probably float right into the clouds if she wasn’t holding him down, helping calm the storm inside his chest.

He hopes she feels just as comforted by his presence as he does by hers. Jace hopes that he can, even if he can’t do anything for Aemond, if he couldn’t protect Luke, that he can help Helaena in this time of grief.

He is tired of crying but he will swallow his anger a hundred times over as well, will shed his tears rather than use his fists because it is not his anger that his family needs now.

Jace will find a way to help them, he is determined to, and things will be alright again. No matter what, things have to be alright again.

Aegon is too busy staring out of a window and tearing his nail beds apart, blood freely flowing from basically all of his fingers, when Ser Laenor finds him. He doesn’t hear the older man entering, doesn’t even notice his presence until warm hands cover his own, the young prince jumping in surprise, Laenor looks a little worse for wear, with a bruise on his cheekbone and dried blood on his knuckles. Aegon would ask about it, if he could bring himself to.

“Don’t do that.” Laenor says, gently prying his hands and holding both between his own, mercifully not commenting on how Aegon’s hands tremble

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” The young prince asks, looking at their hands trying and failing to avoid his voice breaking

Of course it is bad, he knows that, he just needs confirmation from someone who saw his brother and just how bad it was.

He could barely take a look at his brother’s body as they rushed him into a room, all he could see was the blood, how it bathed his brother’s face, drenched his hair, spread on his clothes so much that it left a gory trail on the otherwise pristine floor, the brief look he had at Daemon also revealed he was covered in blood.

Aemond is such a small kid.

There was so much f*cking blood.

And if that wasn’t bad enough the maesters had forbidden anyone from entering the room, his sister had raged and pleaded in equal measures but they had remained firm in their instance. Now sister is sitting on a chair in front of the doors, Lucerys on her lap, her gaze lost somewhere far away as she clings to her second son like he will disappear.

“They are doing what they can.” Laenor says, too kind to lie, too kind for the full truth as well

“He thinks I hate him.” Aegon says, unprompted, looking at Laenor with wide eyes “He will die thinking that I hate him.”

“Aegon…”

“I told him, that I hated him.” Now that he began he can’t push the words back, can’t stop them from falling from his lips like poison “I was mean and crude and cruel because I was jealous of him, because mother always loved him so much more than she did me, because grandfather never went as hard on him as he did on me, and it wasn’t fair , it wasn’t fair that he could have all their love and leave me with scraps, so I told him I hated him and I laughed at him because I wanted him to feel what I felt every time mother embraced him and left me there at the sides, how I felt every time grandfather praised him while cussing me out in the same breath. I wanted him to feel bad because I was feeling bad and, and I was good at that wasn’t it? I’m good at being cruel.”

That is something Aegon never had troubles accomplishing, the cruelty coming to him like a second nature, like coming home.

Perhaps Aegon truly is his grandfather’s blood more than he could ever be a dragon.

Aemond had been the perfect son.

The little perfect baby that didn’t fuss, the little child who never ran in the halls, never interrupted meetings to tell about some ridiculous thing he had saw, never demanded to be held at every moment and who never cried when denied, the dutiful student who took to reading and writing like it was the easiest thing in the world, who learned High Valyrian like he was born speaking it, who took to the sword just as easily.

The perfect little prince.

Everything came so easy to Aemond. His studies, his perfect behavior, their mother’s love, their grandfather’s calm.

Aegon was the devil child, always demanding too much, always lacking too much. Too stupid, too irresponsible, too drunk, too needy, too naive, too much .

It was so easy to pretend he hated his little brother.

It was so easy to feel grim satisfaction when grandfather’s ire was directed at him for once, to smirk when he arrived from his own lessons wincing and frowning at the floor. Because why should only Aegon feel heavy hands, to be subjected to cruelty, to insults?

He tried so hard to hate his little brother that he almost managed to fool himself into believing he truly did.

He surely acted like he did. The constant barbs, the mocking about the things Aegon knew hurt him the most, the eventual shove, the purposeful exclusion when he was with their nephews because Aemond already had mother and grandfather, it wasn’t fair that he would have Jace and Luke as well.

“And I told him I hate him.” He continues, hands shaking more as he fights to swallow his tears “I told him he was useless, that he would never be worthy of a dragon because that was the only thing I had that he didn’t, because it was the only thing that made me special. And when he claimed Vhagar I couldn’t even be happy for him, because now there isn’t anything else, is there? I’m just a stupid drunk, a poor excuse of a prince and my little brother is dying and he thinks that I hate him because I was a f*cking dickhe*d to him.”

“Do you?” Laenor asks, kindly, still holding his hands, his warmth such a sharp contrast to the cold that is consuming Aegon’s whole being “Do you hate him?”

“No.”

And then the tears finally fall.

He told sister once, didn’t he? That he loved his siblings, but that he wasn’t a good brother for them, and she had reassured him that they loved him, that there was still time to fix their relationship.

He loves his siblings. He loves Helaena and her weird riddles and her ugly bugs and her embroideries she always gifts him and he pretends he doesn’t like, he loves Daeron even if it has been so long since he last saw or spoke to his baby brother, he loves Aemond and his obsession with rules and his sharp tongue, his rambles about history and dragons.

But now there is no time to fix that relationship is there?

His little brother is dying.

Aegon will not be able to tell him that he enjoys his company, will never be able to say how proud he is of him from claiming Vhagar, how grateful he is to him for encouraging the relationship between them and Rhaenyra. He will never be able to tell him that he never liked it when he got hurt, that it hurt him when Aemond showed up with bruises and winces, how he would do anything in his power to shield him from the world if he could.

Aegon would take all of grandfather’s, the maester’s or the septon’s anger on him if that meant his siblings would never have to experience it.

He loves his little brother, but his little brother is dying and he will never be able to tell him that.

“Aemond knows, Aegon.” Laenor whispers, squeezing his hand, his usual smiling face displayed into the most kind and understanding expression he ever saw “He knows you love him, even if you never said it, even if you did things that hurt him. Your brother loves you and he knows you love him.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I had a sister.” Laenor smiles at him, sadness overflowing “Because I have to believe that Laena knew how deeply I loved her even when we stayed apart for so long, even when we did things to hurt each other, because we weren’t always good for each other, couldn’t always be kind, but we loved each other from the bottom of our souls and I must believe she knew that, that she died knowing she loved deeply.”

“I wish it was me.” Aegon confesses, lowering his head until it touches their intertwined hands, hot tears falling freely “I wish it was me they targeted, not him.”

“I know.” Laenor says, one of his hands going to caress his hair gently “That is the burden of loving, you always wish for harm to fall into you rather than them.”

“Perhaps it would be easier if I could just die already.” The words leave his mouth with finality, a certain drawing on his as he lifts his head to look at Laenor

“What?” The man’s hand freezes where it still lays on his hair, his face blanching as his eyes wide but Aegon just shakes his head

“It’s the best thing that could happen.” He insists, his own eyes wide “I could just… kill myself. In King’s Landing, preferably in the middle of a lot of people so that no one could contest that I did the deed myself. I would be dead and there wouldn’t be anyone to challenge Rhaenyra anymore, they would never be able to try to crown Helaena instead of sister, and Daeron would have to come for my funeral wouldn’t he? Then sister could just have him back permanently, Daeron is so young, he would never be a challenge to her once he knew her, they wouldn’t be able to push for a boy king instead of someone with experience either. It would fix everything .”

And the only cost would be his life.

And truly, what is his own life worth?

He isn’t a good son, he isn’t a good brother, he isn’t a good prince, he isn’t good at anything but f*cking everything and everyone around him. A drunk stupid fool, to whom cruelty comes so very easily.

Who would miss him? The sister he mocked and ignored, the baby brother who probably doesn’t even remember his face, the mother who couldn’t hide her distaste for him, the father who barely remembered his existence? The brother who he was mocked endlessly, who now lays dying anyway?

Sister would be sad, because sister is good like that, and maybe Jace and Luke would be as well, because they are big bleeding hearts, but they would understand, they would survive.

It would be the best for them.

“Grandfather is right, the best way for Nyra to assume the throne without opposition is if I’m dead. And I can do that, I will do that for her. I can die by my own hands so that no one can call her a kinslayer, and all of this, it just stops . No one else has to get hurt.”

The more he speaks, the more the plan makes sense.

How funny, that grandfather and mother always tried to scare him with the idea that Rhaenyra would kill him to take down the challenge his existence brings to her claim, tried to use it as a motivation to make him want to be king, but all that he feels now is the euphoria of knowing that his death can end this once and for all.

That is why they targeted his younger brother isn’t it? Because Aemond is the spare. Because it is Aegon they can push for the throne, his claim who is strong enough to rival Rhaenyra and tear the realm apart.

His baby brother is dying, because for once Aegon is more important. Because his life is more worthy to be used in their grandfather’s plans.

Because it has to be grandfather behind this.

Aegon isn’t as stupid as people think he is, it’s too f*cking convenient that as soon as his baby brother shows, openly and fearlessly, that his loyalty is to their older sister, someone tries to f*cking kill him.

Grandfather likes puppets and isn’t afraid to punish and discard those who don’t fit into his plans anymore, Aegon is more than aware of it, has felt in his skin how cruel he can be when he thinks he can get away from it- His grandfather’s cruelty is cold and careful, always with a excuse, always with someone to take the fall if it comes to it.

The idea sickens him, the shaking of his hands worsening. A lifetime desperately wanting to be important, to be prioritized for someone, to be seen as more worthy than his siblings and when it finally happens all he can feel is disgust, is the bitter feeling that this is somehow his fault.

His brother is dying, his sister almost lost her son, his uncle almost lost his daughter, the realm could be thrown into a terrible war, all because of him .

No. No. Aegon can’t let this continue, he can’t allow anyone else to suffer just because his grandfather is a power hungry bastard who will burn the world to reign over ashes.

His death fixes everything with minimal loss at it.

What is his life compared to the happiness of his whole family, compared to the peace of the realm?

“We will have to go back to King’s Landing soon, won't we? I will write letters, we can think of ways of saying what grandfather has been doing, all by my own hands, or maybe I can just say it in front of everyone? In a council meeting. And then I can just kill myself, in front of them, we can end this.”

Not poison, that would look suspicious probably. But a cut throat would work wouldn’t it? It would be pretty hard to save him from that if he could cut deep enough to bleed fast. Aegon thinks it wouldn’t be too hard to find books about the human body and learn the best way to bleed fast.

Aemond was bleeding so much.

So much blood outside of his body that it makes him nauseous just to remember it. There has to be a limit to how much blood one can lose before all hope is lost.

“ No .”

Aegon barely has time to blink before the hand on his hair just pulls him, gently so unbelievably gentle, against a strong chest. Laenor just holds him, squeezing so hard it’s borderline painful the way he just crushes Aegon against himself, a hand still on his hair forcing his head against his shoulder.

The young prince misses a breath, hands hovering between them before he manages to pull them free and cling to Laenor like the man is the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

“No.” The man says again, with the same intensity, holding him tighter if that is possible, his own breath shuddering “No, gods Aegon, no.”

He can’t remember the last time anyone other than sister hugged him. Laenor holds him like he is something important, something dear, he is warm and smells of the sea and smoke, like his dragon is permanently etched on him, Aegon can feel as his uncle’s tears fall on his hair as the man holds him, his voice breaking as he speaks.

“But…”

“No. Do you think any of us is ever going to agree with this plan? By the gods Aegon, we would never hurt you, much less ask you to hurt yourself for our sake.”

“You are not asking, I’m offering.” For once in his life, he wants to do something right

“And I’m refusing.” Laenor shakes his head “And your sister would refuse even strongly. This is not a plan we will ever consider, do you hear me? We will never consider any plan which will bring you or your siblings any harm, no matter how easier it would make things.”

And then, before Aegon can even open his mouth to say anything, what he doesn’t even know, his uncle continues, voice soft and so full of something he can’t name that it steals the air from his lungs.

“You matter, Aegon, you matter to us.”

Aegon clings to his uncle and he cries.

“My princess.”

The door finally opens and Rhaenyra almost knocks down the chair in her haste to get up, holding Luke tightly against her chest even as her heart starts to beat so fast she is sure it is trying to escape from her chest.

There is a stone in the middle of her chest, heavy and crushing her lungs, her hands shake as she cradles her son, anxiety cursing through her veins like it hasn’t done in such a long time.

She just stares at the maester, unable to force her voice to work.

“We did everything we could but...”

The world crashes around her and if it wasn’t for the guard that moves quickly to support her Rhaenyra is sure she would have fallen to the floor, tears burning in her eyes, the world a blur as her heart breaks into a million pieces, she barely hears what the maester says next, her mind focused on the first sentence like a vice.

That was the same thing they told her, when her mother died.

“Nyra!” There is a hand holding her own, Laenor is suddenly at her side, taking Luke from her arms and holding her at the same time “Nyra, breathe, breathe, you have to listen to the whole sentence love.”

“He…” The words die in her throat.

“He is alive, my princess, for now.” The maester bows to her looking guilty at his poor choice of words “But we could not save his eye.”

“But will he live?” Laenor asks, probably for her sake

“We cannot guarantee it, my lord.” The man shakes his head “It’s too early, we must pay close attention to see if the wounds won't fester or his condition worse somehow. For now the prince is alive and we can only pray that he will be strong enough to survive the night, if he does we can be hopeful.”

Laenor pulls her to his chest and Rhaenyra finally allows a single tear to fall, clinging to her husband.

Her brother will live, she knows it, she has to believe it.

Chapter 15

Chapter Text

Rhaenyra is not particularly hungry but she makes a effort to take a few bites of the light meal the servants had brought for her, Daemon and Laenor are sitting with her, having already eaten, or at least that is what Laenor had told her, they are just nursing cups of watered wine and exchanging casual conversation.

They are probably doing it for her sake, truth be told, an attempt to distract her from the child laying in the bed just behind her. They had moved Aemond to the chambers he had been occupying rather than the random room they had first treated him into and Rhaenyra had remained glued at his side since, unable to tear her eyes away from him in case something suddenly changed.

No fever had taken hold of him during the night and the maester who had kept vigil with her had been hopeful that since he survived the night without worsening in his condition they could count on his survival, he had left then, to return when it was time to change the bandages and give him more milk of the poppy, but despite his reassurances and reminders that is was unlikely the young prince would be coherent if he woke up Rhaenyra had refused to leave.

Just the idea of her brother waking up, disoriented, in pain and utterly alone in this room, no matter how quick this bound of conscience would be, had filled her with dread. She would be at his side, even if only to let him know he wasn’t alone. Daemon and Laenor had joined her just after the servant had brought her a plate of food, and she knows they are here because they have much to plan.

“We have to send a message to King’s Landing.” Rhaenyra says, feeling a headache burning in the back of her brain as she finally pushes the plate away “It will look suspicious if we wait for longer, we can say we were waiting for news of his state as to not cause panic, but now that the maesters are more confident of his survival we have to communicate it.”

“Do you think the queen knows?” Daemon asks with a arch of his eyebrows, they have, unanimously even if no one had spoken the words aloud, agreed that this is Otto’s doing

“Gods I hope no.” Laenor murmurs, almost too low to be meant to be said to them, drowning the rest of his wine “But the less direct contact we have with her, the better, even if she is unaware of the truth we can’t trust her to not twist everything we may say to her. The letter should be addressed directly to the King, and even then we have the risk of it falling into his Hand’s grasp first.”

“No meetings with her or Otto without someone else as a witness, and we must avoid letters as well, unless strictly necessary.” Rhaenyra says, giving Daemon in particular a long look “And never letting the children, any of them, without a trusted knight at their side while we are the Red Keep, someone who will inform us if anyone tries to approach them.”

“That’s a given.” Daemon huffs, filling Laenor’s cup for him before taking a dagger from his belt and playing with it, the light catching on the blade “The first thing they will attempt to do is break the bond between us and the green brats.”

If Rhaenyra is not mistaken the dagger Daemon is holding it’s the same dagger that caused the injuries on the child laying in the bed behind them, and her lips tighten into a fine line at the mere vision of it, anger burning in her insides, sadness still weights her heart down, the fear still nagging on the back of her mind, but enough time has passed for anger to be bubbling underneath her skin as well. Otto made a mistake, the moment he thought he could use her sibling against her, she would see him destroyed, flayed of everything he once loved and left in misery long before she would consider giving him death.

Otto Hightower lost the privilege of a quiet death long ago. She will not see him made a martyr, will not see him remembered by history as a good and loyal Hand of the King, if she cannot erase him completely she will make sure he will be remembered as the traitorous rat that he is.

“It will be a nightmare.” Rhaenyra says, massaging her forehead “Explaining to them how Aemond was gravely injured while my own son and niece were practically unharmed, I have to say it was a smart strategy to attack a group of children and target only one of them. Makes me look even too stupid to properly plan a believable assassination.”

It was, as much as Rhaenyra loathes to admit, a smart plan altogether. With only Aemond truly injured it looks like a target attack, only the son of the King in danger while the two children closely related to her escaped with minor injuries, it gets the rumor mills running with the added bonus of calling her stupid for planning such an obvious attempt. But if any of the other children had been injured it could easily be spun around to calling her heartless, capable of ordering her own child to be hurt for the sake of attacking her younger brother.

“No, no, that is where you are wrong” Daemon points at her with the blade of his dagger, smile tugging on the corner of his lips “The attackers are dead, how can we possibly know who the target was? Aemond was severely injured, yes, but because he put himself in harm’s way to protect the other children, it wasn’t him who had a dagger held to his throat after all. I have made my fair share of enemies, haven’t I? Surely one of them would jump at the chance of hurting my daughter to get back at me. And you are the Crown Princess, a pretty important position, lots of people are interested in your downfall, it was Lucerys who almost got his throat cut, no?”

“Father made quite a few enemies as well, and the whole realm knows how much he cherishes Lucerys.” Laenor agrees nodding at Daemon “Sure it could be an attack on the king's son, but how can we know? We only know what the children tell us, and they are so young, they were so scared, the details are fuzzy and they fought back, who knows what those monsters would have done if they didn’t.”

“We will conduct an investigation of course.” Rhaenyra catches on quickly enough, a pleasant smile on her face “See how that guard came into our service, who hired him, maybe try to see who the other man with him was by asking if they ever saw him talking with anyone in particular, but such matters take time and we cannot in good conscience leave Dragonstone without the answers.”

“They will whisper Rhaenyra.” Daemon points out “We must think what we will do to battle the rumors they will spread about you and your involvement in it.”

“They can whisper all they want.” She shrugs “Because we will scream. The attackers are dead, the children the only witness, what the whispers matter in the long run when we control the narrative, when our version will be accepted as the truth and we will demand the tongues of those who dare say otherwise? Who will dare speak such treacherous words? To contest our version they would have to know details about the attack and it would raise too much suspicion.”

“They will say we killed the guard, to hide the truth of our crimes.”

“I know.” She sighs “And that is why we will own it outright. You killed him didn't you Daemon? He was attacking your daughter and your nephew, of course you killed him. We tried to save his life after you slit his throat but it was unsuccessful”

Saying that the man killed himself would be stupid, would only feed the rumors, would sound too convenient, a sure way to hide a ploy. A father defending his daughter is much more credible, much easier for people to accept as true and not a soul in the seven kingdoms will doubt that Daemon Targaryen is willing to kill a man for any reason, let alone in defense of his family, so let them talk, let it be known that Vhagar killed one of the men and Daemon slit the throat of another.

Only Daemon and Laenor were there to see it, who will openly go against their word?

“The children will need to learn this version of the events, all of them, but especially Lucerys and Rhaena, just in case the attackers said something that could go against our version.” Laenor says

“They are clever, I think they will understand.” Daemon dismisses the worry with a vague gesture of his hand

“The Hightowers will demand the children back.” Laenor warns, the unpleasant certain they have been trying to ignore “There is no f*cking way Alicent will not demand them back at her side the second the news reach her.”

“Absolutely not. Even if I was willing to let them out of my sight, it is madness to put Aemond in a boat in his condition, and he very clearly cannot go on dragon back.” Rhaenyra snorts, a smile morphing into a look of distaste. “We just have to find a way to spin this in a way that allows us to keep Aegon and Helaena as well. A betrothal seems like a good reason to me.”

“A betrothal?” Daemon arches his eyebrows

“Jace and Helaena obviously.” Rhaenyra says easily enough

“Alicent already rejected that idea.” Laenor points out “And it will look callous, to talk about marriage in the same breath you talk about a child who almost died.”

“The Queen did, but what about the King?” Rhaenyra arches an eyebrow at her husband “My mistake was trying to speak to her, to spare my father, to respect her as a mother when she clearly cannot respect me or her children back, I will go to King's Landing and speak to him directly, he will not deny me. We wouldn’t announce it yet, he is the one always talking about uniting our family again, he will be overjoyed and Alicent will be too worried about her son to kick too much of a fuss, and Otto will talk regardless, so let him.”

Her father will not deny her, not now, not when Rhaenyra has made it clear to him she is upset with him. It's something she has been noticing about him for some years now, Viserys will give her anything she asks for when he thinks she is upset, especially at him, it's more than fair that she uses his favoritism to save her siblings from whatever nightmare Otto had planned for them.

“No way in hell you are going to King’s Landing.” Daemon scoffs, as if the idea is ridiculous “Alone? It's madness and the green c*nts will spin this in their favor somehow, you going to talk about marriage while the child disfigured under your protection lays dying in a bed? Alicent will sob her way into forcing Viserys to deny your request or at least delay his answer until Aemond is well and who knows what they will do in the meantime.”

“I'll go then.” Laenor shrugs “He is my son as well.”

“Do I need to say what's wrong with that?”

“Then what do you suggest Daemon?” Rhaenyra asks exasperated

“I go, obviously. Otto already thinks of me as Maegor reincarnated, no one will bat an eye about me going to talk business in your place as you worry about your young brother and search for the truth about this cowardly attack. Write a letter, we don't have to say it was written now, just that we didn't get the opportunity to before. Helaena will stay to bond with her betrothed, and Aegon will be her chaperone, unusual yes, but given the special circ*mstances perfectly understandable that they will wish to remain close to their injured brother.”

“You know, you are not that bad at this politics business.” Laenor says, a smile in Daemon's direction

“Well, before someone came along, I was the heir.” Daemon says flipping Laenor off before giving Rhaenyra a suggestive look “Being surrounded by those dumb f*cks at the council table is a great manner of learning what not to do.”

“If only you didn't have the temper of a feral dragon and a tongue looser than that of a drunk sailor.” Rhaenyra replies drily “This is a diplomatic mission Daemon, tempers will be high no matter what, we cannot provoke them in any way.”

“Do you think I'm incapable of playing nice?”

Both Rhaenyra and Laenor just look at Daemon with twin expressions of disbelief, refraining for any words as the man just rolls his eyes at them in clear annoyance.

“That f*cker of a guard came from King’s Landing, didn’t he? He wasn’t from Dragonstone, so it makes all the sense in the world that I, as the one with experience in such matters, would go back to investigate his origins and represent our household in the appointment of the new Hand while you and Laenor take care of matters internally.”

“Our household?” Laenor asks, a smile on the corner of his lips and eyes shining with mirth

“Laenor.” Rhaenyra scolds even if she is fighting against a smile of her own, heart bursting with such affection she doesn’t even know what to do with it

“Do you want to go there and have to smile nicely as the green cow insults you and your marriage?” Daemon demands, scowling at them both

“No, no.” Laenor is still smiling “You make a very good point, I just like the sound of it.”

Rhaenyra does too, if she was to be honest with herself. Welcoming Daemon and his girls in her family feels easy, natural, as if there was a hole in their middle that they didn’t ever realize was there but now that it’s filled she can’t properly imagine how exactly they managed to function without this missing piece before.

That is dangerous, Rhaenyra is keenly aware of how much this can wrong, how easily she and Daemon are to just throwing caution to the wind and falling into each other’s arms, the invisible line connecting their souls never severed, not fully, held back for the delicate situation they are in now. But neither of them are patient people, it is a matter of time before one of them snaps and Rhaenyra cannot promise it wouldn’t be her.

“f*cker.” Daemon mumbles, but the swat he directs at Laenor is so half heartedly it doesn’t even hit him “I face the chopping block in King’s Landing and you two prepare the kids to lie to everyone, whatever story you come up with, I will parrot in the Keep.”

“Let’s keep it as close to the truth as possible.” Rhaenyra nods at him “So that they don’t have to worry too much. I will start writing a letter to be sent, you should wait at least another day to leave Daemon, we don’t want you getting there before the raven.”

“I will talk with Luke and Rhaena about what happened again, to see what we can use and to start preparing them.”

“What do we say?” Rhaenyra asks, a frown on her face “They will ask why we are so worried, about why they have to lie.”

“The truth.” Daemon shrugs “They are children, I know what you will say, but they can’t be ignorant, not when their lives are in direct danger. You tell them that the c*nt of Oldtown wants your throne for his family and he will hurt anyone in his path.”

“Aegon already knows, or at least he believes the attack has to do with Otto.” Laenor supplies, a frown on his face, eyes suddenly so much more sober “And Jace is aware of the tensions as well, I doubt Helaena is oblivious either. I don’t like the idea either, but it would be an insult to them to try to pretend things are fine.”

Rhaenyra would wish for nothing more than that, truly. To be able to shield her sons from all the cruel whispers and dirty looks they have been subjected their whole lives, to shield the girls from the nest of vipers of the Red Keep, to shield her siblings from the poison of their grandparent, to allow them to exist simply as children, to have no worries but their lessons.

She wishes, knowing it will never be possible, that the children could be children.

But she can’t give them that, not without putting their lives in danger, without raising them to be unaware of the danger waiting just around the corner, so she just nods at both Laenor and Daemon in resigned acceptance.

“I will start preparing for the journey.” Daemon says, getting up from his chair after gulping the last of his wine “Call for me if there is any news.”

“You are hiding something from me.” Rhaenyra says to Laenor as soon as Daemon leaves the room, holding his arm to stop him from doing the same, tone on the verge of accusing “You avoided looking at me the whole time.”

“Yes.” Laenor sighs, a quick lift of his lips accompanying the word

“Well, care to share?”

“No, not now.” He shakes his head, putting a hand over the one that is on his arm “Rhaenyra, trust me on this, I will not lie and say that it isn’t important, because it is, but I am dealing with it and for now I don’t think it would do any good for you to get involved as well.”

Her lips press themselves into a thin line as she looks deeply into her husband’s eyes as if she can force him to reveal whatever the secret is, but Laenor is surprisingly good at keeping things to himself when he wants to.

“What is it about? Surely you can at least tell me as much.”

“You swear by our sons?”

“I swear by our sons.”

“Don’t shut me out.” She says, softer, hand tightening on his arm “I am here for you Laenor, no matter what.”

“I know, Nyra. I can deal with it on my own, I promise you.”

Rhaenyra just sighs and Laenor smiles at her, he kisses her forehead before gently taking her hand away from his arm and leaving the room gently closing the door behind himself. She doesn’t like it, the idea of Laenor keeping something from her because usually her friend is a open book, too open in her opinion sometimes, quick to share his every thought and opinion and to ask for her advice, so if Laenor is suddenly deciding to keep things from her this means it’s something big, something with the potential of being ugly.

She both hates him from his concerns and is eternally grateful for the care he shows.

The princess takes one last look to the door where her men left and sighs one last time before squaring her shoulders and going to the desk at the corner of the chambers, redying herself the daunting task of telling Alicent by letter that her son has been permanently mained. She will write for the King of course, much better than to try to talk directly to the Queen and have her words twisted before they reach his ears, but Rhaenyra has no doubted that it will be Alicent who will read and read the letter a hundred of times, that it will be her heart who will bleed with pain when she learns of the news.

The desk is carefully organized, so much that if Rhaenyra didn’t know the rooms were being occupied she would almost guess it was just the usual decor of the place, blank papers perfectly organized on one side, others, filled with notes in both the Common tongue and other in High Valyrian, stacked on another side with a dragonglass shard over them to stop them from flying, a full quill in a corner where nothing can disturb it, and a few books also carefully stacked on a corner.

Rhaenyra has to take a deep breath to fight against the urge to either cry or break something.

The maester has warned her, that her brother’s life will change with the loss of his eyes, that he will have to relearn how to do basic things as he adjusts to having less vision, his balance will need work, even, that even walking will be hard and bruises will be plenty, something as simple as looking at things will put a strain on his remaining eye until he fully adjusts so they will also have to be prepared for him to deal with headaches with frequency, and reading is discouraged in the first weeks as to avoid worsening his pains. It pains her, deeply, wounds a part of her heart to know that such a heavy suffering is being placed on the shoulders of her baby brother, he is so young, so very young to have to suffer with such a cruel reality, to have everything he knows be so easily taken away.

He sacrificed so much for her own son, Rhaenyra doesn’t know how she will ever be able to properly thank him for it.

She casts a look to the bed, Aemond’s face is clean of blood now, his hair carefully washed by the maids earlier and the stitches on his face are hidden by clean bandages but Rhaenyra will never forget the view of the injury, fresh as the maester was first changing the bandages, how harsh it looked on her brother’s young face, how painful and raw it looked, they had tried to hide it from her but she had seen the bowl with the remains of his damaged eye and it had taken every bit of her strength to not break there and then, he is covered by a light blanket hiding the bandages around his torso. He looks peaceful in his unconscious state, milk of the poppy had been given to him just before Laenor and Daemon joined her to plan their next steps and he had been awake enough to take a few sips of water.

Awake but not really coherent.

Gods, her little brother doesn’t even know what has happened to him.

Suddenly, the previously daunting task of writing a letter to explain what happened feels incredibly easy compared to the task of having to tell her baby brother that he lost an eye.

She sits on the desk, carefully picking a blank piece of paper as if to nor disturb anything else, and prepares herself to write one of the hardest letters of her life.

Rhaenyra keeps it brief, Daemon will arrive shortly after the raven if they manage to time it just right, and he will answer, personally, all their inquiries, officially it will because the children were too affected by the attack to properly explain things until a few days had passed, but in honestly they just want time to properly think of the details and to pass them along to Luke and Rhaena, if Aemond is still not coherent enough to be told of their plan by the time someone arrives then they can only insist that he was too out of it with pain to understand what was happening. With some luck, the King will wait for them to go back to King’s Landing rather than coming to Dragonstone but Rhaenyra is not that hopeful, Alicent, as mother, will be demanding for their departure the second she reads the letter.

She tries to be as gentle as she can in her words, even Alicent is a mother and surely this is a notice no mother should ever have to receive, Rhaenyra can muster empathy for her to put as many reassurances as she can in it. But at the same time there is a nagging voice in the back of her mind that insists that perhaps Alicent is well aware of what has befallen her son, that she must know of Otto’s plotting.

Rhaenyra doesn’t want to believe in that voice, both for the sake of the memory of the girl she loved so very dearly, but also for the sake of her little brother for it would crush him to know his own mother knew and did nothing to save him from such a betrayal.

Otto will burn in the seven hells, Rhaenyra will find a way to personally send him there, but perhaps Alicent can still find reason, can still atone enough for the pain she inflicted on the children that she will rekindle any type of relationship with them. But until she does, until Rhaenyra can be absolutely sure that being in her presence isn’t just going to cause them more pain and distress she cannot even consider the possibility of allowing her to be alone with her siblings.

She finishes the letter with her name and title, setting it aside to seal and send later, before taking another piece of paper for a message this time, something to be handed personally by Daemon.

Finished with this as well Rhaenyra gets up from the chair, moving to sit on the corner of the bed where her brother lays, her hand automatically going to his forehead. The maester had said their biggest worry now is the wound on his eye festering, that a high fever in such a weak state would probably be fatal so Rhaenyra thinks herself justified in constantly checking his temperature.

She remembers when Luke was a babe, barely a few moons older than Joffrey is now, and he ended up sick with a fever that the maesters couldn’t lower no matter how they tried. Her heart still aches, thinking about her sweet boy, so small, so tiny and fragile, and how his little body burned when she touched it, his skin flushed even as he shivered in his crib, how she was desperate to hold him and never let go but the maester had forbidden her for fear of worsening his condition.

That was the closest she had gotten to losing one of her children until the ambush, and the feeling of helplessness has stuck to her ever since, how she would hide herself in Harwin’s arms as he held her as if trying to keep her pieces together, how Laenor would be incapable of sitting still, pacing around the room as if he could run from the fact that their then youngest son was ill.

Lucerys had recovered, the gods be good, but Rhaenyra had secluded herself to her chambers with the babe for almost two weeks afterwards just to make sure, constantly checking him to see if there was any signal of the terrible fever returning.

“I will be at your side.” Rhaenyra lowers her head to kiss her brother’s forehead, moving her hand to hold his limp one. “It will be a difficult path little brother, but I will be with you, I swear it.”

As he closes the door behind himself Laenor gives it at most two more days before they can’t keep the children away from Aemond.

Jacaerys had been on the verge of tears as the knight denied him and Helaena entrance to the room, the girl looking at him with the biggest pleading eyes he ever saw and Laenor felt his own will weakening, it had taken him all the endurance built during years of parenthood to send them away.

They had been very understanding on the first two days, but now, with four days and the news that Aemond is able to stay awake and coherent for longer amounts of times the children are relentless in their need to see him, Jace and Helaena, who have hardly left each other’s side which makes him hopeful about their reactions to their betrothal and Rhaena had been the most insistent, both Aegon and Luke were more like two shadows, watching from a distance like approaching the door would cause something terrible to happen.

Laenor doesn’t blame them, if it was hard for them as adults to deal with the scare of almost losing the silver haired boy, he can’t even imagine what the poor younglings must have gone through.

But still, they are an energetic bunch and the maesters are adamant that Aemond needs as much rest and peace as possible as to not cause strain in any of his injuries. He is healing, but it will be a long path mostly due to the adjustments necessary for his lost eye, the longer they can keep the children and their well meaning worry away, the better.

Rhaenyra had not been happy when she discovered the maesters had explained his condition to the boy in one of the rare moments none of them had been close by while he was awake and Laenor had for a moment feared he would have to hold her back from truly hitting the old man but luckily he had made a quick retreat and Rhaenyra had stormed out after cursing out in High Valyrian. He understood her frustration a lot more when he followed her to find her caressing Aemond’s hair, the boy once more unconscious but with tears still drying on his face, the pillow underneath wet.

Still, a selfish part of him can’t help but feel relieved that it didn’t fall into Rhaenyra the burden of explaining to her younger brother how drastically his life has been changed, it would have hurt her dearly to have to see his reaction if the aftermath was enough to reduce her to tears and frankly, Laenor is getting worried about how much stress Rhaenyra is putting on herself.

That is why he is keeping Aegon’s outburst and plans of killing himself for their sake under wraps for now, he is keeping a keen eye on the boy and making a effort to interact with him and subtly nudge the children to cling to him, he is not yet worried about the boy attempting against his own life in random moments, but he cannot erase the easiness in which he spoke about his own death as if he truly didn’t think it would make a difference from his mind.

Well, it f*cking will made a difference because Daemon and Rhaenyra aren’t the only ones getting attached.

Laenor has just lost his sister, he can’t possibly phantom the idea of losing anyone else, it would break him, would snap what little of his heart he has managed to rebuild.

That is also why he has practically kicked Rhaenyra from her brother’s chambers, theoretically it’s still her turn to sit with him, they have been taking turns so that someone could always be with him while others would tend to the remaining children and overall duties of the castle, but Rhaenyra had such heavy bags under her eyes that Laenor doubted she had even attempted to sleep those past days, so he enlisted Luke’s help and Rhaenyra would never deny the boy’s invite for them to nap together, the last Laenor had seen of her she was fast asleep with Luke tucked on her side.

Daemon will be leaving for King’s Landing today, all the details of their plan carefully articulated.

Now, they can only wait and attempt to heal.

Laenor sighs, moving so he can occupy his hands by rearranging the books on the desk, they are all perfectly organized already, but Laenor just rearranges them by alphabetical order, only to feel dissatisfied and rearrange them by size instead. He is carefully rearranging pieces of dragonglass on one of the drawers when movement from behind calls his attention and he turns to see Aemond attempting to sit up.

Automatically he drops the piece on his hands to hurry to the boy’s side, helping him lean a bit more on the pillows, wincing on sympathy when he hisses in pain.

“Hey, easy.” Laenor says, a hand on his shoulder “Remember what the maester said? No strenuous activities.”

“I’m just trying to sit up.” Comes the petulant answer, the boy scowling at his own bandaged chest “That’s hardly strenuous.”

“It is when you lose so much blood.” Laenor reminds him kindly, reaching for a cup of water “Here, you have to keep hydrated.”

Aemond is not a bad patient per say, he does everything the maesters and the adults around him demand, but there is always this displeased curl on his lips, this indignant look on his remaining eye that tells Laenor that he is absolutely loathing the restrictions and the fussing everyone is doing, if he wasn't such a dutiful child, or even if he wasn’t under supervision every single moment, he has no doubt that the kid would be attempting to walk as soon as he first woke up.

So it’s a blessing for all of them that Aemond has enough strength to eat and drink by himself now, even the process is long and honestly painful to watch as the boy struggles to properly bring the spoon or the cup to his mouth, still struggling to adjust to the loss of his eye and the change of perspective. The injury on his side wasn’t that bad thanks the gods, it didn’t hit anything important, but he bleed so much and so fast that he will be feeling weak for a while yet and the stitches have to be uncomfortable, Laenor knows by experience.

Once he finishes with the water Laenor allows him to turn just enough to put it back on the desk the maesters had brought to his bedside to store all the supplies for easy access during the cleaning of the wounds and change of bandages, a quiet silence in the room.

“Uncle Laenor” Aemond calls, hesitant and there is such a devastate look in his face that Laenor can’t even truly feel joy at being called uncle, his hands are playing with a loose line on the blanket as he stares at it like it’s the most interesting thing in the world

“Yes? Do you need anything?” He moves so he can sit on the chair on the side of the bed “Are you in pain?”

“Are Luke and Rhaena really alright?”

“Yes.” Laenor assures him, smiling softly, this is hardly the first time the kid has asked this “Luke’s wounds are superficial, he didn’t even need stitches, and Rhaena only had a few bruises. They are shaken, but unharmed.”

“Are you angry at me?” Aemond asks in such a small voice Laenor has to get closer to him in order to hear

“Why would I be angry at you?” Laenor asks carefully, feeling dread polls on his insides because he has the distinctive feeling this conversation will break his heart, as many things about those kids do

“It was my fault.” Aemond confesses, his hands tightening on the blanket “That they were in danger, I was stupid and they paid the price with me, I understand if you are angry.”

“I’m not angry.” Laenor says and moves to hold the kid’s hand when he just scowls at the blanket “Kid, this wasn’t your fault, I’m not angry at you, no one is angry at you.”

“Don’t lie!” Aemond says harshly, pulling his hand from his grip so he could embrace himself

“I’m not lying.” The man says, helplessly, leaving his hand where it is in an offering “Aemond, I’m not lying.’

“Please.” It breaks his heart when the kid’s lips tremble in a clear attempt to hold back tears “Please don’t lie to me, it will just hurt more later. Just be angry now, it’s alright, I understand, just tell me what I have to do to make it better.”

Laenor feels like he is back with Aegon, watching as a boy too young for this level of hurt offers his heart expecting it to be crushed without mercy. What has been happening in those children’s lives that they think love is something to be earned, something that is intimately tied with hurt? Aegon believing his death would be welcomed as a fair exchange for making their lives easier, Aemond whole heartedly believing Laenor is angry at him for a situation totally out of his control.

“You don’t have to do anything.” He says, terrified of even thinking of what consequences this child must be expecting “Aemond, it wasn’t your fault, what those men did, what someone ordered them to do, there was nothing you could have done to avoid it. If it wasn’t in that cave, they would find another way to strike.”

“But then Luke and Rhaena wouldn’t get hurt.” The prince says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world “If I didn’t take them with me to that cave and the men tried it somewhere else, they wouldn’t be there to be hurt. That’s what the guard said, the one who hurt Luke, he called them collateral damage. Please uncle, just tell me what I can do, there has to be something I can do for you.”

The confirmation of everything they had thought does nothing but fill Laenor with dread, not surprisingly none of the other children had spoken about this aspect, probably it didn’t even occur to them to focus on it when daggers were pressed against their throats, but of course the child watching it unfold and being blamed would.

“It wouldn’t be better, if the attack had happened in another moment.” Laenor says, a joyless smile on his face

“Why?”

“Because you would still end up hurt in this new attack, Aemond.” Laenor shakes his head at the boy “You do realize that the only ideal scenario for us would be one where no one gets hurt or attacked at all?”

“But….” The child turns to look at him, and there is so much confusion on his face that it’s almost painful, he trails off, as if not knowing what to say to the notion of being cared for

“Do you think Rhaenyra would be happy, if you had been attacked while alone?”

“No, because sister is a good person.”

“That’s right, and she isn’t happy you have been attacked while with Luke and Rhaena either, she has been losing her mind with worry for you those last days. The last thing any of us are feeling is anger towards you, Aemond.”

“I… I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand? Tell me, I will be glad to help you.”

Gods just give him the opportunity to tell this boy that he is so loved, that Rhaenyra, that any of them, would burn the world down for him just as they would do for any of their children, let him tell the boy all of that even if he wouldn’t believe it yet.

“Why aren’t you angry.” Comes the quick reply, Aemond hugging himself tighter “Luke was hurt and Rhaena was in danger as well, and they are your family, they are hurt because of me and I don’t know what to do to make it better. You have been wasting time sitting with me, just like sister and uncle Daemon, and helping me with things like I’m a helpless baby, the maester said I will not even be able to walk right, that I will have to relearn to do everything. So not only did I put your family in danger, I have become a burden and I don’t know how I’m supposed to make it better when I can’t even walk a straight line.”

Laenor understands even better why Rhaenyra was so furious when the maester had the talk about his new limitations when none of them were present, she must have known, by instinct or by previous interactions, that the boy would automatically spiral into thinking of himself as a burden.

“Well, that’s easy.” Laenor forces himself to smile, gently forcing the kid to look at him with a finger under his chin “We aren’t angry because we love you. Because you got hurt protecting Luke and Rhaena, because you wouldn’t have lost an eye if you didn’t try to save Luke and we will forever be grateful for that. We are not wasting our time sitting with you or helping you because we want to be here, because you are not a burden, you are someone we care about. You don’t have to do anything Aemond, we just love you for you.”

There is no little amount of disbelief on Aemond’s face as he stares at Laenor, his eye is filled with tears that the child refuses to let fall, his lips still trembling, it’s heartbreaking watching how much he wants to lean in, how much he wants to believe in him, but can’t, as if his own being wouldn’t let him.

“I know you don’t believe me.” Laenor says “I know it will probably take time for you to get used to it, but I’m telling the truth, Aemond. No one is angry with you and you don’t have to do anything for us, you never have to do anything to earn our care and our love, and Rhaenyra will say the same thing to you as many times as needed.”

Mindful of his injuries Laenor moves so he can sit on the edge of the bed and pull his nephew into a hug, a sharp pang of relieve taking hold of his chest when Aemond burrows himself into the hug, moving his hands so he can hold into Laenor with all the strength in his body, he is a silent crier, the only ways Laenor can know he is crying is because he can feel the tears wetting his clothes.

Like Aegon, Aemond hugs like he has been starved, like he must enjoy every second of the hug before it gets taken away from him, before something goes wrong.

Perhaps it’s a good thing Daemon volunteered himself to go to King’s Landing.

Laenor can’t promise he wouldn’t beat Otto Hightower to a pulp if he had to look into the smug expression on his face when he just had to hold both of his grandsons as they broke down in heartbreaking sobs, both believing they have to earn affection and love even at the cost of their own well being.

“Came to make me promise to be on my best behavior?” Daemon asks without looking at Rhaenyra when she enters the cave, too busy adjusting his riding gloves

“No, you know how important this is to me and will act accordingly. I came here to say goodbye.”

“That’s a bold statement, dear niece.” Daemon finally turns to look at her, a smirk on his face “Do you trust me that much?”

“We belong together, Daemon. I have grown tired of denying it, so yes I trust you.” Rhaenyra says bluntly and carelessly, approaching him, one of her hands touching his cheek “We always belonged to one another, even when we were both too blind to see it, even when you gutted me and left me alone. Even now, that we belong to others as well.”

“Your capitan, of course.” His lips twist into what could barely be called a smile, sour at the remind of their shared past

Could things be different between them? If he had not taken Rhaenyra to that brothel, or even if he had not backed out at the last minute, would their paths have crossed sooner? If Viserys had agreed to marry them, how different would everything be?

“Would you change it?” He asks, putting a hand on her cheek as well, their positions mirrored “If you could go back, would you have chosen me?”

“Would you change it? It was you who didn’t take me on my wedding day.” She demands instead, eyes bright “Would you have accepted me as heir, as Queen, when I was only a girl, when you still saw me as foolish and naive? Or would have you tried to change me, to make me something else to the point we could only ressent one another? Would you give up on the life you built with Laena for the chance of having me sooner?”

The thing is: At some point Daemon would have said yes. He would, with no hesitation, without an ounce of care whatsoever, he would smile, lower his head until their lips were brushing and whisper the answer against her mouth and he would mean it.

But a decade is a long time.

He didn’t love Laena when they married, not truly, not the burning desire and hunger he felt for Rhaenyra even then when she was married and so far away from him. He wanted to spite his brother, he wanted to show the world that they would never again chose anything for him, that he would make his own path away from court if needed, and Laena wanted freedom, she wanted an out from her own betrothal, wanted to see the world and devour it whole.

It was lust, for a long time, it was lust and kinship, the understanding that they are both misfits, that he would never have his brother’s unconditional love and acceptance, that every moment spent with Viserys and his love was borrowed time, that it could be so easily taken away the moment he stepped out of the line, that no matter how much Laena was loved by her family they would always see her as a bargain chip, that she could ride the largest dragon in the world, she could be as sharp as a whip with skills to surpass many snot faced heirs, but she would always be a potential wife first.

The love, the love came later, slowly, it was built day by day rather than the onslaught that it was with Rhaenyra, the force of it burning him from inside until he could barely think straight when he was in her presence, could only want with a hunger that twisted his whole being. Laena shaped him into a man he didn’t think himself capable of being, a man that for a long time he loathed the idea of being even, with her words yes, because she was the blood of the dragon and would never stand quietly as he did as he pleased, but also with her love.

Would that man, recently returned from war, weighted by the bitterness of rejection, be able to love Rhaenyra as she deserved? Would that man be able to stand by her, as a shield and a protector rather than someone to step in front of her?

Would he erase the years with Laena, the life they built together? Would he erase his daughters as they are, fierce and loving and kind and energetic, living images of everything he and Laena did right?

“No.” He says with a gentle caress on her face “No I wouldn’t change anything. We belong together as you said, we would always find one another.”

“Good.” Rhaenyra smiles at him then and before he can even think she uses the hand on his cheek to pull him towards her, raising her head so their lips can brush on a gentle caress whispering against his mouth “Have a safe journey, Daemon, we will wait for you.”

Daemon can only watch as Rhaenyra disappears just as quickly as she came, barely catching the glimpse of a smile on her lips as she turns the corner and like a lovesick fool his own gloved hands touch his lips, tongue flickering where she touched as a slow smile takes over his features.

Behind him Caraxes makes an impatient noise, nudging him with his tail, and Daemon can only chuckle, turning to press his head against his dragon’s body before finally mounting the saddle.

Now, that is an incentive for making a quick trip if he ever received one.

Chapter 16

Chapter Text

Her tears have made the letter incomprehensible.

But it doesn’t matter, not really, the contents of it have seared themselves into her brain like someone personally carved them there, it’s all she can think about every time she closes her eyes, a constant repetition pounding on her brain no matter how hard she tries to focus on her duties, how much she prays and prays and prays until her knees ache and her throat is as dry as a dessert.

Her son. Her sweet, loving, innocent son.

Just thinking about him makes a ugly sob escape her mouth. Alicent stops her prayer so she can rest her head into her hands and allow the tears to fall freely, uncaring about property, those are her chambers, she is allowed the grace of expressing her emotions here.

Her son, her beautiful son, maimed, disfigured.

It makes her heart ache, her fingers are bloody, aching with pain as she cannot stop herself from tearing the fragile skin apart, but the pain is dulled, barely registering in her brain because her son’s pain must be so overwhelming.

He is just a boy, just a sweet, foolish boy.

And Alicent failed him.

She failed Aemond, and she failed Aegon and she failed Helaena. She failed them and now her son has been permanently disfigured for it, he has almost died because of her inability to protect them against Rhaenyra.

She should have seen it coming, she should have fought harder when she first realized what was happening, how the princess was luring her children into a trap with honeyed words and warm smiles, as she schemed and lied just like she did in a sunny day so many years ago, when she looked Alicent in the eyes, when she evoked the memory of her mother, and lied, when she forced her father out of the court just to hide her sins, when she left Alicent alone in a pit of vipers.

Her children are naive, innocent, they could not possibly know the darkness that Rhaenyra could hide behind her smile and her touch, they could not possibly expect this sharp sting of betrayal and perhaps that is her fault as well. She couldn’t prepare them for the world, not like her father had instructed her to do, because they had been so easy to laugh, they seemed so content existing with their nephews even if said nephews were bastards, she had allowed them to be children because she could not bear to crush their spirits, to take away their innocence when they looked so small, so very fragile.

Alicent did not wish to see her children broken, did not wish to be the hand to crush them, to strip them from their innocence. She had softened the demands from her father, whispered when she knew he would have screamed, turned a blind eye when he would have punished, she had tried, desperately, to hold them the way no one had ever held her, to shield them from the ugliness of the world while at the same time warning him from the danger of Rhaenyra and her bastards.

She didn’t know what to do, she was lost and alone in a court that never saw her as more than a replacement, Viserys’ care and love for the children dimming with every passing year, her father so far away that she could not ask him for his advice in many of the situations that arose, he could give her instructions, tell her the foundation to be laid, but there was no one there to teach her how to deal with the little things, how to answer their questions, how to hold them to her chest, how to mold them into what they needed to be to survive.

Aegon should learn how to rule, and Helaena how to be queen even if the idea sickened her to her core and Aemond should be to be their sword and shield. It had been drilled into her mind and heart since the first moment father had been aware of her pregnancies.

But how could she achieve that?

Alone in the world, struggling to understand how to even hold those tiny fragile babes when she never had to care about anyone other than herself before, it was so hard and so painfully lonely.

Aegon had so much energy when he was a babe and she was so tired when she was pregnant with Helaena, her daughter was a fussy babe who cried almost all hours of the day and she could not bear to be in her presence for too long and the guilt of it crushed her insides so deeply that she could barely force herself to look at Aegon either, to listen to his ramblings and his wild imagination. She looked at that spoiled and needy child who demanded affection and attention at every minute of the day and could not understand how she could shape him into an heir when she could barely breathe without an apologetic wet nurse searching for her with a wailing Helaena in her arms.

She had written to her father about her struggles and he had sent maesters and maids to care for the children, the only help he could provide from Oldtown. And it had worked, of course it had because her father always seemed to know exactly what to do, how to do and she missed him something fierce, the new maesters would keep Aegon busy, would bring her oldest back to reality when he started to daydream, would curb his need for mischief before it became too problematic and the wet nurses would take Helaena for walks and offer her teas to calm down.

It hurt, of course it hurt, when Aegon ran to her with a angry welt on his little hand or with tears in his purple eyes, but no matter how many times she tried to explain to him that he had to pay more attention to his lessons, that he should listen and obey as they requested, her oldest never seemed to understand it. Aegon makes her think of Gwayne in that way, with something that is both pain and fondness.

Helaena, much like herself, never had the same issues with her septas, her daughter although lost in her own world and sometimes too simple minded for the position that waited for her, was still able to attend her lessons and perform adequately. Helaena was always the favorite of her own father, and Alicent knew he was softer with her for that.

It was different with Aemond of course. She was older for once, she knew better what to expect after two other pregnancies and she had the maesters and wet nurses her father had sent to help her since the beginning, and Aemond himself had been such an easy babe, so quiet, so easy to love and care for even as he grew up, he took easily to the role father envisioned for him without needing any nudging from her, her sweet son instinctually offering her and her siblings his support and his care, watching over them and doing everything he was supposed to.

It was a balm to her soul, after the struggles with getting Aegon to even be present for his lessons, and the worry of the septas about Helaena’s inability to perform the pleasantries expected of her, to have Aemond easily understanding what needed to be done and doing it, without complaint.

So of course she didn’t expect him of all the three of them to be so easily charmed by Rhaenyra’s poison, although perhaps she should have been. She sheltered Aemond the most probably, kept him at her side and taught him all the ways to better behave to avoid the anger of his grandsire and the maesters, she shielded him from the ugliness of Rhaenyra’s sins.

But her leniency and her failure rears their ugly consequences now, her weakness having cost her son his eye and almost his life. She did everything she could, and yet it was not enough to protect them.

Her foolish, naive children inviting themselves to the enemy’s arms, throwing themselves into the fire with smiles on their faces.

Even now that she has maimed her son, Rhaenyra is not satisfied with her cruelty, she must twist the knife embedded in her chest, she must keep her children away from her even now that they are at their most vulnerable. And Viserys, too blind to his daughter’s true nature, unable to see her for the danger she is to both his kingdom and the children he seems to forget are his as well, bows down to her every wish and demand, ignoring her demands to have her children brought to her or at the very least to be allowed to go to their side in Dragonstone, claiming it ‘not necessary’ as if having Rhaenyra with them is all they could possibly need, as if she isn’t the reason her sweet son is lying in a bed disfigured for life.

Alicent is terrified of every knock on her door, of every servant that arrives with a message for her.

What if something happens? What if Rhaenyra decides that a scare is not enough, that she must finish the job and take her son away from her forever? What if something happens to Aegon and Helaena?

She feels untethered from earth, like the ground is crumbling under her feet, all she wants is to hold her children and never let them go. She wants to pull them behind herself and snarl at anyone who would dare to approach, she wants to undo her mistakes, she wants to give her children the fangs and the coldness to survive this war they have never wanted to belong in, this ugly thing that was born before they took their first breath, this wretched thing trusted upon them by Rhaenyra’s sins and Viserys’ meekness.

Alicent understands now that if she wants her children to live then she cannot let mercy curl into her heart and weaken her resolve, that she cannot look at Rhaenyra and see the friend of her youth, that she cannot let fondness blind her to the lengths she will do to secure her claim, this is just a confirmation of every single nightmare that cursed her nights since Aegon was born, and Alicent cannot allow it to break her, cannot allow this to be her undoing.

Her children need her to be strong, they need her to fight for them even if they do not realize it yet.

She has barely had time to wash the evidence of her pain from both her face and her hands when there is a knock on her door. Alicent takes a deep breath and closes her eyes for a few seconds and her voice does not waver or shake when she calls her permission for the doors to open.

“My Queen.” A knight bows to her, looking at the floor, anxious energy bursting from him “Prince Daemon has arrived from Dragonstone, he carries news about Prince Aemond.”

Harwin Strong looks, well, he looks like a man who just buried his father does. His face is pale with an ashen quality to it, the bags under his blue eyes look like bruises, his hair is limp, the curls barely defined as if he didn't even brush them after waking up, the casual clothing he is wearing make him look gaunt and tired, as if the man has aged many years, without the armor he looks like a common man, a imposing one, but a tired man nonetheless.

When he sees Daemon longing on his bed with his best smirk and arched eyebrows he just sighs deep suffering and closes the door behind himself, eyes closed for a few moments before he looks back at him.

“My prince.”

His voice is calm, very proper as if finding a prince in his bed is nothing surprising, and well, given the fact that he and Rhaenyra have three children of their own it probably isn’t the first time Harwin Strong had a Targaryen in his chambers waiting for his return, Daemon at least is fully clothed.

“Lord Strong.” Daemon smiles at him, as if nothing out of the ordinary is happening. “My condolences or congratulations are more in order?”

“My father was an honorable man, who served the Realm for many years and his loss is a tragedy not only for my family, my prince.” Strong’s voice is clipped, his eyes narrow in his direction and he squares his shoulders, if Daemon wasn’t a prince he probably would have gained a black eye

“So I have heard, but it never hurts to ask. My condolences then.” Daemon hums, unbothered “That’s the fate of good men isn’t it? To have a tragic end by the hands of those who weren’t as honorable.”

“My father was claimed by a sickness, my prince, a tragedy.”

“Ah yes, yes.” The prince laughs “Because that is exactly what we both believe isn’t it? An awful sickness killing the Hand of the King, just as the old Hand takes residency in the capitol once more, what a perfect timing.”

“If that is what you think, my prince.” Harwin says, blandly and he sighs, obviously exhausted

“I think that it’s what both of us think, but only one is talking plainly.”

“I have no proof to raise such treacherous accusations against the Queen’s father and the King’s closest friend, and I would advise you to think before you speak, my prince, it’s been a long time since you walked those halls and I fear you do not understand the changes that occurred in your absence.”

“I have been warned of those changes, Lord Strong, Rhaenyra and Laenor had been very diligent into drilling into my head the need to be courteous.” He chuckles at the memory of the many warnings and lectures he was subjected to “I do suppose you know why I am here?”

“In my chambers? No, my prince, I think your motivations escape me.” The man says, crossing his arms over his chest, an unamused expression on his face “But I am aware of the attack on the young princes, and can only assume that’s the reason for your visit.”

“A dreadful affair. One of the attackers was a guard tasked with protecting the royal children, he came with the King when he went to Driftmark and then was tasked with following the princess to Dragonstone, I’m here to investigate the matter.” His expression closes, something sharper taking hold before Daemon smooths it back into a parody of a smile “As for your chambers, I merely thought we should have a private conversation, and this seemed an appropriate place, there is a tunnel that leads directly to here, did you know?”

“I am aware, yes.” The man nods and for a moment the tiredness is replaced by something sharp, calculating “None of the gold cloaks went with the King in this travel, as my father was too sick, Lord Hightower took responsibility to arrange the travel plans for the King.”

“Including, I suppose, the selection of the guards?”

“One can only imagine so, my prince.”

“I see.” Daemon nods, drumming his fingers against his own arm “I’m not a man of subtlety Lord Strong, and since Rhaenyra trusts you, I have no need for it here. This was a planned attack on my nephew, we believe that as an attempt to taint Rhaenyra’s image, and it was sheer luck and the children’s dragon that stopped a true tragedy from happening, and I am here to investigate yes, but I know exactly who is behind this matter, the same man who is behind your father’s murder.”

Harwin says nothing else, the man just sighs again, pained and tired and Daemon wonders briefly if he was present for his father’s burial, if he has just come back from Harrenhal or even if the man was buried in King’s Landing.

Losing a father is a painful thing, especially in such a sudden manner. Worse still is to watch as one wastes away in a bed, Daemon remembers his own father, how such a larger than life man looked small and broken in his deathbed, how the whole room stunk of sickness and herbs that couldn’t hide the smell of death that clung to his father long before he took his last breath. It was Viserys who stood by their father’s side as he wasted away, Daemon had visited but found himself unable to stay for long, to be able to witness what they all knew was to come, he didn’t want to remember his father with the pained expression he wore even when the maesters offered him milk of the poppy in abundance.

He takes pity on the man and remains silent as well, content to stare at the meager decorations of his chambers, much smaller than the ones Daemon as a member of the royal family is used to enjoying.

“How is prince Lucerys? I heard he was a victim of this attack.” The man asks after a few moments of silence and as much as he tries to scold his expression into neutral, socially acceptable, curiosity his eyes ways give it away, too desperate, too eager

“Your son?” Daemon asks with a smirk, rolling his eyes when the man opens his mouth to spout some denial or similar bullsh*t “Save me that crap, I'm not stupid and not that out of the loop as to not know firsthand of the truth, Jace knows as well just so you can prepare yourself for that conversation when they come back. And Luke is fine, the wounds are superficial and he is recovering.”

It's pretty amusing, to see the quick change of expression on Strong’s face as he speaks, as if the man can't settle on a single emotion, but there is such a longing in his eyes when Daemon talks about Jace that he has to look away, least he gets physically sick at the display. How this man could pretend he wasn't the biological father when love just oozes out of him at the mere mention of the boys or Rhaenyra and people truly believe him is a mystery he would like to solve.

Maybe everyone in this city is just f*cking stupid, that wouldn't surprise him in the slightest.

“And Prince Aemond?” Is what the man chooses to ask, ignoring everything he said which is quite rude of him

“Recovering.” The prince sighs, almost unconsciously scratching his eye “But he lost an eye, as you probably know. When I left he was just coherent enough to understand what happened, brat doesn't know what waits for him”

“He is a strong boy.” Harwin says, brows furrowed, irony lost on him even if Daemon chuckles “And he is exceptional with a sword, with the right support he will overcome that loss in no time at all.”

“And I don't suppose you would offer to give him that support? The kid wouldn't even be able to walk right for a long while, it would take a lot of work that would probably not even pay off to even get him to hit a target, let alone something that moves.” Daemon gives the man a sardonic smile “And don't even start with teaching him how to defend himself with a reduced vision camp.”

“I would. In fact I will offer myself as a personal teacher as soon as the prince is allowed by the maesters to train if that is alright with the princess.” There is something quite unamused on his face as he looks at Daemon, hints of anger on the curl of his lips, creeping on his voice “It would not be wasted effort, no matter how long it would take or how little of his skills the prince would retake. Teaching him and the other children would be an honor.”

“f*cking gods.” Daemon sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose “Are you like this all the time? All chivalry and honor, what a bore. From what song did they take you from anyway?”

“I don't think it is too much, to show basic decency to an injured child, hardly something out of a song, just an action any man worth their salt should have.”

“You know, the little brat likes you too. Don't know how that happened but you sure made an impression on him.” Daemon reveals, fond despite everything “He was all worried I would kill you, asked me not to and all.”

“Will you kill me?” Strong asks, not looking that much worried to his credit

“No.” Daemon sighs, looking at the ceiling “I probably would, a few years back, but I made some promises since. If I wanted you dead, this conversation would never have happened.”

“Good to know this is a social visit then.” Harwin says drily, finally pulling a chair to sit, but his shoulders are still tense, a guarded expression on his face

“Rhaenyra wanted me to give you this” The prince rolls his eyes pulling a letter to give the man

It's quite impressive really, how such a soft and longing expression suits such a physically imposing man, but the softness that settles on Harwin Strong’s whole being as he takes the letter reverently is a sign to behold.

Daemon realizes, with tangible proof, with no way of denying, that this man loves Rhaenyra from the bottom of his heart.

The realization doesn't fill him with anger or jealousy as he expected, with the need to wipe him from this earth, to claim what should have been his since the beginning. Perhaps Laena was right, perhaps he has grown softer after the girls.

Harwin does not immediately open the letter, much to his disappointment since Daemon is quite curious to know what Rhaenyra may have possibly written to her lover about, she was very tight lipped and full of treats to dissuade him from opening the letter, instead the knight puts it carefully on a small desk in the corner before coming back to his own chair, looking at Daemon with arched eyebrows and a expectant look, but the prince makes no motion to get up, in fact he gets even more comfortable.

“So it was you who fixed her after I left.’

“She didn't need anyone to fix her, she was never broken.” The man says, unimpressed, “I was just here to offer her support.”

Not too bad, that one. Daemon didn't know Westeros could still produce knights worthy of songs being written about their virtue, it figures that one of them would be drawn to Rhaenyra like a moth to a flame.

“You know I was kinda hoping you would give me a reason to kill you.” Daemon says “That you would be a c*nt or something similar.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” The man says very obviously not sorry at all, a deadpan expression on his face

“Just so you know. I'm not planning on leaving again, I'm here to stay.”

“That’s alright, I will stay for as long as she wants me.” And after a long pause, almost as a afterthought he add “My prince”

“Well at least Rhaenyra has a good taste.” Daemon says and shamelessly looks the knight up and down with a suggestive arch of his eyebrow “Handsome and sharp tongued, just as I like them too.”

When Harwin blushes from the tip of his ears to his neck, probably even lower since his clothes doesn’t let him see more, Daemon throws his head back and laughs for the first time in many days.

Her hands shake as she writes, careful to not smudge the wet ink.

She can’t tell if the shaking is out of fear or burning anger, perhaps it’s both.

Alicent cannot even feel relief over the fact that Daemon Targaryen is away from her children because the news he brought with him have set her own edge, have made her hands curl into a fury she seldom allows herself to express, let alone truly feel.

But now the anger burns inside her chest something fierce.

How dare Rhaenyra send her lap dog of a mad uncle talk about her son, to bring reassurances about his condition on the same breath that the man insists that the attack was a unfortunate accident, tries to pin the blame into faceless, nameless assassins with grudges against him or Lord Velaryon.

As if it was Daemon’s plain daughter or Rhaenyra’s bastard who ended up injured and maimed and not her own son, as if their children are not unscathed from the ordeal while her own boy lay in a bed so far away from his mother because they are keeping him away, probably to scare him into silence or even to further twist the young and impressionable minds of her oldest children, to whisper poison in their ears.

She shudders to imagine what they can possibly be saying to them, what vile lies they must be speaking about her and her father.

It makes a fire burn inside her own chest, how easily Viserys nods to his brother’s like the man is speaking some holy truth, how easily he accepts all of his assumptions and lies without bothering to pay attention, easily opening their doors to the Rogue Prince and his joke of an investigation, as if the man is not merely trying to hide his own actions, it would not surprise Alicent if he was the one behind this cruel attack on her son.

It makes her skin crawl to have to look at him and force her lips into a smile, as if his presence do anything but disgust her.

They will not take her children from her arms like lambs to be slaughtered, like the cattle they feed their flying beasts, as a necessary sacrifice for their sinful actions.

Alicent was powerless to bring her children back from Dragonstone, her own husband even more unwilling to listen to her pleas with his brother poisonous assurances still ringing in his ears and his heart joyful for his return, but she knows that it cannot go like this forever, that as much as Rhaneyra may want she cannot seclude herself into that stone monstrosity and hide her children from her, decorum will not allow it and even Rhaenyra is not above it no matter how many times she had already made a mockery of it.

She can’t have Aegon, Helaena and Aemond back, but there is one son she still has the power to bring back to her side, to hold in her arms and shield from the poison of the world around them.

Father will not be pleased of course, and even Viserys may complain about her acting without even informing him first but once her letter is sent there is very little they will be able to do without making a ripple into a thunderstorm.

Alicent will no longer allow her children to be ripped from her arms, not without fighting, not when she is now painfully aware of how vulnerable they truly are.

She finishes the letter with her name and title, staring at it with determination burning in her insides.

Daeron will come home, the first of her children she will reclaim to her side.

Planning a murder is a wonderful bonding experience in Daemon’s humble opinion. It worked wonders when he and Laenor plotted against the Crabfeeder, it means they have a great understanding of each other and where they stand in this new family they are building together, surely it would work with Rhaenyra’s new plaything just as well.

There isn’t any shortage of people he wants to kill in the Red Keep after all.

It wasn’t even his idea in the first place and he will make sure to point it out to Rhaenyra and Laenor if they try to complain about his little political quest turning into a cleanup job, it was Harwin who broached the matter, totally unprompted, it isn’t his fault if he jumped at the opportunity with a bit too much of excitement.

It’s been a while since Daemon committed a murder that couldn’t be connected to him, the need for secrecy bringing a trill to the whole affair and Harwin Strong isn’t half as bad company as he once thought.

Much to his glee, the knight of the songs already had the barebones of a plan on how to deal with their little problem, Daemon could just focus on working on the details and the secrecy part because clearly planning premeditated murder is not on the knight’s list of skills, great enthusiasm and energy, bad overall attention to details if he had to judge.

The best murders, when you don’t want to make a statement, are the ones who don’t look like murders.

It worked with Rhea. It would have worked a little better if Daemon could have held his tongue when talking with her cousin at the wedding but the opportunity was too good to pass at the time and it wasn’t as if anyone would say sh*t to him during a royal wedding.

Now, it will work even better with Ser Criston Cole.

It’s a quite simple plan, nothing too fancy, nothing that will be able to raise too many eyebrows even if Daemon is well aware that Otto and his daughter will no doubt suspect foul play, but what can they do, they tried to kill his nephew they should be thankful that Daemon will take his revenge on a knight. The best assassinations are the ones who look like accidents.

Daemon knows the Red Keep like the palm of his hand, he has explored every single nook and corner of this castle since he was able to walk, and it’s easier to decorate the guard’s routes as they patrol the castle, to notice when they exchange turns, when there are gaps big enough to be explored, he was the Lord Commander of this city once, he knows intimately well how it works.

He knows equally as well how to acquire good quality wine, the type that knocks a man down after just a couple of cups, it’s not hard to have some of it brought to his chambers, to drink a cup and smile at a servant as they serve him and then demand to be left alone with the bottle.

Getting the wine to the knight’s barracks is trickier, there are no convenient tunnels leading straight to his rooms like there are to Harwin’s, and a part of Daemon can’t help but wonder if that was on purpose, if somehow Rhaenyra managed to get her lover into a room she could secretly enter whenever she so wished, but his barracks are tucked into a little corner of the castle that see little movement, especially from the guards- The white cloaks seldom rest, and even when they do, well, it’s not as if they are in dire need of protection, so avoiding the eventual patrol and knight going to rest or leaving their room is easy enough.

Daemon starts slow, lest the man notice something off about his wine. They have time, he has an investigation to do, a Hand of the King to piss off and it would look too in the nose if a man he so obviously dislikes dies as soon as he comes back to the Red Keep.

He knows how to kill a man, and even if cutting his head or pushing him off a tower would be so much more satisfying, he did promise Rhaenyra to be on his best behavior.

Cole is annoyingly saintly about it too, only drinking on the days he is off duty and never to the point of being too out of it, Daemon would be impressed by the dedication, if it was from anyone else. But there comes the wine and with a little patience Daemon replaces his usual version with the much more potent version he had brought, apparently for himself, Harwin helps as well, in a more obvious manner even if just subtle enough to not be apparent unless you look for it, just a few barbs here and there, small annoyances that make the man’s lips curl into displeasure and for his cup to be fuller at night.

His loyalty to his queen means that he cannot let his anger flash too much during the day, and one way men can deal with the frustration of their lives is in their cups, Daemon is well aware of it.

Lord Strong takes completely over the next part.

Daemon makes a show of being seen by the court, having dinner and then drinks with the couriers, exchanging stories about his time in the Free Cities and pretending he gives a f*ck about what happened in King’s Landing in his absence, if anyone wonders how he can be in such a merry mood when his own kin has been maimed, they have a low enough opinion of him to not be surprised or bring the matter to his attention.

He is pleasantly drunk that night, pretending to be much more, and allows himself to be guided to his own chambers by a knight who stays at his door the whole night, let anyone say that the Rogue Prince ventured anywhere.

The news reaches him when he is breaking his fast, in the mouth of a particularly gossip prone servant positively glowing with the need to share the latest gossip with a prince of all people.

Ser Criston Cole, the queen’s sworn protector, was found dead in the night, fallen from the stairs.

They say he was drunk, the servant whispers delighted at the idea of sharing knowledgement with a prince, that he was so into his cups that he fell and broke his neck.

When he is left alone, Daemon throws his head back and laughs delightedly. What he wouldn’t have given to be there to witness it, not only because of the satisfaction of the act itself even if that is a big part of it, but because it must be a view and a half to see Lord Strong, so chivalrous and gallant, push a drunk man out of the stairs and watch as he died.

He wonders if the fall truly killed him or if he needed a little bit of help to meet the Stranger. Daemon thinks that another little trip to Harwin’s rooms are in perfect order, he didn’t set this whole plan in motion to not have the satisfaction of knowing the final details.

Later when his brother invites him to eat with him, talking excitedly about the new dragon models he has commissioned as if a member of his Kingsguard didn’t just die, as if his son has not been recently attacked, as if his Hand is not glaring daggers at his brother, as if the Kingdom is not burning around him, Daemon just sips his wine pretending to care and when he catches the Queen looking at him with a sneer on her lips and red rimmed eyes, he raises his cup to her and smiles, all teeth.

He will end this little charade, even if that means killing her and her father’s allies one by one.

Chapter 17

Chapter Text

Hobert Hightower is not a very imposing man, Gwayne never really thought that the man commanded a lot of respect at first sight, it was only when you got to known him and his sharp mind that the respect came shiftly let you end up on his bad side, his uncle was a terrific enemy to have, mostly because he was very good at keeping his cards close to his chest.

But a lifetime growing under his care has given Gwayne a pretty good understanding of his uncle, enough to read the tell tales signs of annoyance and even offense on his posture.

Alicent demanding the return of her youngest son wasn't something any of them could have expected, especially not when her other child has just been attacked, the logical thing would be to keep Daeron away from the mess in King's Landing, but Alicent doesn't seem too keen on following what is expected. Gwayne shifts, clasping his hands behind his back, annoyed at the stupid back and forth they are stuck in as his uncle tries to find ways to weasel his way out of sending his ward away.

“And what does your lord father have to say about this?” His uncle arches his eyebrows “Because I do not see Otto agreeing with such a haste and senseless change of our plans.”

His uncle brandishes the letter Gwayne had handed to him earlier, after getting far too annoyed with the insistence that perhaps he had misunderstood the Queen's words and that she was merely asking for news about her youngest soon. Since he handed the letter, Gwayne can swear that his uncle has read it over four times, as if expecting the words to magically shape themselves into something different, he would have found it funny if it wasn't getting on his nerves already.

“The Queen demands her son back, my father’s opinions on the matter are of no importance.” Gwayne says, easily and almost kindly, a smile on his face even if it's sharp as steel. “So unless we receive a message from the King himself retracting her orders, I shall see my nephew sent to King's Landing before the end of the week as per her request.”

“Of course, nephew.” His uncle’s smile is tense, displeasure clear on his face “I would never dare to go against the Queen.”

Gwayne merely bows his head to his uncle and leaves without any word biting his lips to avoid the smile threatening to appear. It's amusing, at least to him, the rare occasions that Alicent remembers that she is the Queen Consort and she outranks, by a large amount, every single person in their family.

His sister is a perfect example of what every septa and septon preaches about a dutiful woman, loyal to her family and her faith above everything else, an example to be given to little girls everywhere. Alicent was always so eager to follow the rules, to obey their father no matter what he was asking of her, while Gwayne never truly minded his anger and his distaste it broke his sister’s heart to have their father disappointed in her, while he would shrug off the insults and the glares they would weight down on Alicent like shackles.

Gwayne can’t even blame her, not really, Alicent was always so gentle at heart and while he could escape to the training grounds, to the stables and to the library, to the waiting arms of friends who didn’t ask why he was so adamant on going to venture into the city, what could Alicent do? The only escape she had was the company of the princess, and even that father managed to take away from her. Gwayne tried to help, to soften the lectures and the words but there was only so much he could do and he was still so young himself when father banished him to Oldtown.

His sister is the most powerful woman in the Realm, yet she seldom dares to use her power for anything let alone for something selfish, something that will be only for her, so it does both amuse and soothe his heart when she does. It feels good to remind their uncle that Alicent is not a silly little girl he can just ignore and push wherever he pleases, that the only reason he can dream about someone with his blood sitting on the throne is because of his sister.

And, truth be told, Gwayne just generally enjoys the opportunity of pissing his uncle off without the man being able to retaliate in any way.

‘All of your father's sharp tongue, none of his brains’ One of his cousins had once sneered after a sharp barb or another from Gwayne.

And there was much he could have said in return, many cutting remarks that would bleed deep even if they would cause his own nose to be broken, for he has inherited his father's casual and biting cruelty just as much as his sharp tongue while his cousin had his own father's short temper, but Gwayne had just smiled, as if amused when replying.

‘But luckily all of my mother's beauty.’

Because that was fine by him- To not have his father's brain because he also lacks his lust for power.

Gwayne is content with his lot in life, to be the first born son of a second son, the queen’s brother, meant to have nothing to his own name, to breeze through life as a shadow, as a piece in the family, to fill minimal tasks and oversees the boring reports and disputes the main branch didn't want to bore themselves with, to train and be a knight, but not even a particularly good one even if he thinks he is more than half decent with a sword.

That is why the duty of caring for Daeron fell into his shoulders more likely. His father would oversee his education of course, and officially he is uncle's ward, but neither of those men had raised their own children even after they had lost their wives, there was not a single chance in the seven hells they would raise that boy.

And Gwayne will very likely never father his own children because… well he will never father his own children, but he helped with Alicent as much as he was allowed and at least he was capable of looking at the boy and seeing more than a piece to be moved as desired, it's no wonder Daeron, so little, still almost a babe in his eyes, clung to the only adult who smiled at him and meant it, Gwayne thinks he's allowed to feel smug about the fact that he, not even on purpose, is making his father’s life harder with no true effort of his own.

It never sat well with him, Daeron being taken from his family so young when there was literally no reason but his own father’s desire to shape one of his grandsons to his image, to make of Daeron what he failed to make of Gwayne, what he couldn’t make of Aegon because he was dismissed from his position in the capitol and trying to shape a child while living so far away is not quite as easy as he would have wanted and sweet Alicent would never have enough cruelty in her heart to do it either. Daeron was supposed to be his masterpiece.

But father failed to consider that by allowing Daeron to get attached to him, he would equally allow Gwayne to influence his nephew, to shield him much more than he could have shielded Alicent so long ago.

Good luck to his father, to try to shape sweet little Daeron into a mirror image of himself, to try to treat him the same way he treated his children, when Gwayne is there to watch and take over the lessons, to undo all his efforts by encouraging the boy to spent as much time as his little heart pleases with books about magic and love, and to bond with his dragon.

Because being responsible for Daeron meant, of course, being responsible for that fire breathing beast of his as well.

The initial plan of fostering never included a dragon, but alas, Daeron had claimed a beast just a short week before his departure and as weak willed as the King is he did not allow the boy and dragon to be separated. His uncle had thrown a fit when Daeron arrived with a dragon the size of a cat around his shoulders to be presented at court, it just wasn't worse than the fit thrown by the religious nuts he likes to have in company to make sure they will plot against his enemies rather than him.

It was worse when the oversized kitten quickly started to grow and spit fire at people, and suddenly the beast was no longer allowed anywhere near the palace or any building in Oldtown to be honest, the city old enough to know and fear what dragonfire could do even if the dragon was the size of a poney and the rider didn't even reach a man’s waist.

If Gwayne is honest with himself the beast has grown in him, probably because he was forced to interact with her too much to truly see more than an overgrown lizard who likes to cuddle. He saw that dragon when it was small enough to be held in his arms for the gods’ sake, not very intimidating.

An overgrown lizard who can easily kill a man of course and he does keep that in mind, but dragons lose a bit of their magic when you see them whining for scratches on their necks and turning their nose when offered meat close to spoiling. Gwayne has enough good sense to keep his distance unless Daeron calls for him to approach, but he likes to think he and Tessarion have an understanding with one another, the dragon doesn't eat him and he continues bringing Daeron to spend time with her.

A fair deal, as far as he is concerned.

And as such Gwayne does not hesitate in approach Daeron and Tessarion as they lay curled under a tree on the outskirts of the city where they paid the farmers enough for them to give a piece of land for the dragon to reside, a dragon keeper sent from Dragonstone cares for her, living into a small cabin in the same land, the old man is present as he approaches his nephew and his dragon, but a safe distance away just like the guard who accompanied Daeron.

It’s Tessarion who notices his approach first, of course, the blue dragon lifting her head the moment the sounds of his horse can be heard by her ears and she uncurls a little from around her young charge as Gwayne approaches them, his horse at a safe distance let Tessarion decide she wants a little treat, nudging him until he looks up to see who is approaching.

Both boy and dragon look at him with identical glee in their eyes and Gwayne smiles as he sits, close enough to be able to speak without having to raise his voice, but far away enough that he can barely feel the heat from Tessarion’s body.

“Uncle! I didn’t know you would join me today!” Daeron sits himself properly then, resting his back against his dragon “I would have waited for you.”

“I am here on official business, little nephew.”

“I have not skipped any of my lessons lately.”

“I know.” Gwayne softens his smile, testing the words on his mouth before ripping the bandage off “Your mother wrote to me, she has requested your return to King’s Landing.”

Daeron can only look at him and blink for a long time, silence heavy in the air. His nephew is a very expressive boy, even if he is polite to a fault and charming as no one else, but now he is rendered silent by the news and Gwayne can only sit and give him time.

“She wants me back?” Daeron finally asks, voice trembling

“She never wanted you to leave.” Gwayne replies without missing a beat, face softening “She would have kept you at her side, Daeron, until the end of her days.”

“But she didn’t.” And there it is, the stubborn set of his shoulder, the expression that is so Alicent that Gwayne feels like he is watching a ghost of his past “She sent me away.”

“Your mother thought it would be good for you.” It’s what he can offer his nephew, unwilling to talk about his beloved grandfather’s lust for power or his mother’s paranoia “That you would be safe here, that you would learn and grow strong, but she misses you dearly, she writes to you don’t she? And you do like Oldtown don’t you?”

“She writes to me a lot, and sends gifts sometimes too. I can read her letter alone now.” Daeron admits, almost reluctantly but there is nothing short of fierce resolution when he finishes “I don’t like Oldtown, I like you uncle.”

Oh, this sweet, stubborn, charming kid. Gwayne swallows back the urge to do something humiliating like tear up at his words or allow the most ridiculous smile curl on his lips, but he can’t do anything against the warmth spreading on his chest, how it curls, how prides settles on his shoulders because at least this he has done right, Gwayne may be a failure in many ways but he has not failed his nephew and that has to count for something.

“I like you too, kid.”

“Why now?” Daeron asks, playing with his fingers “Why is she wanting me back now?”

“Your brother, Aemond, was hurt, badly.” Gwayne admits, eyes downcast “And your mother wants all of you to be close to her in those difficult times.”

Gwayne doesn’t know what to feel about those news.

He has to admit that he doesn’t know much about his older nephews and niece, he had not seen them since they are much younger, Aemond had been barely more than a babe the last time he saw the boy and even then Gwayne felt a slightly dread setting on his guts when he looked at the boy, Aegon was a wildfire of a child, always finding himself into some mischief, clinging to Gwayne like he wanted to bury himself into him, demanding his sole focus as he showed him something or told the same story for the million time, and he had indulged the boy of course, even when Alicent hissed at him to stop catering to his bad habits, because how could he reject him when all he wanted were hugs and attention? Gwayne was more than happy to provide him with both.

Helaena was his sharp contrast, a quiet and frankly strange girl who flinched anytime anyone got too close to her and seemed to be lost into her own world most of the time, Gwayne had made a valiant effort in his opinion to not cringe away from her bugs even if he had refused to get too close to them, but she had been a child still, able to smile and hum to herself, to talk to her uncle about things of her interest, he learned more about bugs in a day than he ever expected to know in his lifetime, and they had enjoyed afternoons in the garden as well, Helaena contempt to sit and listen as Gwayne tried to decipher the informations of the books she was still too young to read by herself, the ones who used too big of words to describe things, explaining it to her the best he could, she even leaned into his side and curled for a nap on one of those occasions.

Aemond had been almost a babe, so very young, but there was something almost disturbing in him, not in a bad way, rather something quite depressing, not how Aegon’s desperate need for attention was depressing, but on the opposite way, while one brother wanted to be heard above everything the other clung to the corners and the shadows like they would offer him protection. Aemond had been painfully proper, he was still learning to talk, struggling over some words and sentences, and that only made it more obvious how older than his age he acted, asking his uncle about his interests as if it was his duty to listen to a grown man's likes and dislikes. The worst part however was to watch him cutting himself off anytime he started to talk about dragons or stories, his youthful face full of amazement before it would crumble and close itself as fast as it opened and Aemond would give Gwayne wide eyed stares as if just waiting a reprehension. He had tried to ease it, had searched the whole library in search of children’s books about dragons or filled with tales of their ancestors, things he thought the boy would have liked, and made a point of reading them to him every night, staying until the little boy fell asleep.

But Gwayne could not stay in King’s Landing forever. Father didn't want him there for some reason and if father didn't want him there Alicent would not rest until he was back home either no matter what she felt about the situation.

She had cried, when they said their goodbye. Aegon, Helaena and Aemond had cried as well, Daeron was only a baby of a few moons then, didn't understand anything but cried at the sight of their tears too. Later, when they stopped at an inn to spend the night Gwayne had finally allowed himself to cry.

He doesn't even know what her sister’s children look like now, what their dragons are like.

Gwayne barely had time to process the information that his nephew claimed a dragon that was more of a legend than anything or that he and his siblings had decided to latch themselves into the enemy, now he has to deal with the information that said nephew almost died and lost an eye.

“Is he alright?!” Daeron asks, eyes wide and worried “Uncle, is he alright? He can't die! He promised he would read the book I sent to him and write what he thought about it.”

“He is alive.” The knight settle for “He is very hurt but alive and he will be alright, but it was a very scary thing for everyone and your mother wants you back at her side.”

“Who hurt him?”

“I don't know, kid.”

And that isn't even a lie.

Alicent is sure it was princess Rhaenyra but Gwayne remembers a girl with a gentle heart behind the stubbornness of youth and the carelessness of royal blood, and finds it hard to associate that girl with someone capable of ordering the death or even the disfigurement of a child, one of his own blood as well.

At the same time who else could it be? The Crown has many enemies but the whole kingdom and beyond can see that the King is not that worried about his younger children.

A part of Gwayne, the part that is too much of his father, whispers that sometimes you have to sacrifice a piece to win a game, but he forces it to be quiet as soon as it appears.

His father wouldn't.

Alicent would never allow it, no matter how deep she was in his manipulations; this is a line he knows she would never allow anyone to cross, everything she does, she does for those children. Father wouldn't dare to risk whatever control he has over Alicent just to make a risky move and take a cheap shot at the Crown Princess’ reputation.

Besides, that is his grandson. Somewhere inside his father there must be a heart.

“They will be there? My siblings?”

“I don't know.” Gwayne says, and sighs “Your brother was in Dragonstone when he was hurt, along with Aegon and Helaena, and I don't know if they will have made the trip back when you arrive. But you will have a chance to see them as well, I bet they will be very happy to see you.”

“Do you think they will remember me?” Daeron looks at the ground as he pets his dragon’s neck

“You have grown since the last time you saw each other, so they will not remember how you look, as you probably don't remember them, but I am absolutely sure they will remember that they love you.” Gwayne shrugs, the children had sent letters to their brother, much more frequently than Gwayne had sent to Alicent

“Will you be with me and Tessarion?” Daeron looks at him with the biggest pleading eyes, the dragon turning to look at him as if begging as well.

Well, Gwayne wasn't.

He was going to put his nephew on a ship and bid him farewell and save himself from his father's fury because even if he talked back to his uncle, Gwayne is more than well aware that his father does not know that Alicent sent for her son and would never approve such a thing, would have found a way of stopping her. To bring Daeron to King's Landing when apparently his older siblings are causing a revolution and getting cozy with the enemy? Father would want Daeron as far away from the Blacks as possible, would paint him in green if appropriate.

There is going to be hell to pay for this little act of rebellion and forgive him, Gwayne has wished to merely receive an scathing letter calling him stupid in a multitude of ways in the safety of his chambers, far away from the hurricane of anger that is his father when his will is not followed.

But Daeron is looking at him with big wet violet eyes, his face stricken as if the idea of facing this new challenge without his uncle brings him no small amount of distress.

His nephew had cried for most of his first weeks in Oldtown, had clung to Gwayne like he was the only thing keeping him tethered to earth and slowly but surely he started to get used to his new home, to the absence of his mother and siblings, but he always gravitated to his uncle's side at the end of the day, or when things became too overwhelming, it must be jarring to be suddenly sent away again.

Gwayne has not been to King’s Landing in years, not since Daeron’s birth to be honest, and while it's not been that long since Daeron left for a child this young it must feel like a lifetime. Does he even remember what the Red Keep is like? Does he even properly remember his own mother?

Tessarion makes a low sound on the back of her throat, almost like the dragon is whimpering, tail flickering as the blue beast continues to stare at Gwayne with far too intelligent eyes, almost as if pleading in the name of her rider.

Daeron, alone with his father. He can’t help but cringe at the idea.

Gwayne loves Alicent, of course he does, but he is well aware that his sister is unable to stand up to their father even when it concerns her or her children’s well being. Gwayne has long since swallowed the hard truth that he will never win his father's approval, that he will never be enough for him, but Alicent at heart is still that little girl who would bleed herself dry at his feet for a brief smile, for a kind touch, for a love that was never freely given.

Worse still, she will offer the same venom to her children believing it to be a cure.

Alicent is father's favorite but Gwayne is no longer the boy who viewed that fact with envy and want burning in his chest.

“f*ck.” Gwayne murmurs to himself, and then louder “Of course Daeron. It's been a while since I saw our family as well.”

When the boy grins back at him, eyes crinkling at the corners and missing front tooth full of display Gwayne can't even regret it, he just chuckles and when Tessarion makes a happy chirping sound he slowly approaches both of them, just enough that Daeron can throw his arms around him without leaving the protective side of his dragon.

Gwayne hugs his nephew back, depositing a kiss on his head with a heavy sigh, not even flinching when a tail curls around both of their feet, just moving, slowly, always very slowly to pat Tessarion as well, the dragon curling more around them.

Honestly, the things he will do for this family.

The trip to King's Landing is a bore. Gwayne doesn't particularly enjoy the life on the road or even on boats, it's a dreadfully long and uncomfortable business, one of the many reasons he has not left Oldtown that much save for some tourney or another still within the Reach.

Daeron on the other hand is delighted at every little thing and Tessarion, allowed to fly over their heads is constantly emitting happy chirps as well, disappearing for long periods of time and returning with a dead sheep or something on her jaws, sometimes she will even drop her catch to them with what Gwayne swears is pride in her eyes as if the baby dragon thinks she has to hunt for them. The men still cower from her but they do accept her hunts.

His nephew is a ball of energy asking questions to anyone who spends more than a few seconds in his presence and both the knights and the sailors are easily charmed into indulging in his inquiry, Gwayne forsakes many things for a quick trip, including the pleasure of not being confined to a ship, so it's not too long before they can see King's Landing growing closer and closer.

Daeron closes into himself the closer they get and the child who leaves the ship is quiet, lips pressed into a thin line and clutching at Gwayne like he would disappear the second he let go. The man can only sigh and offer his hand for a bruising grip, easily hosting the child into one of the horses and forgoing the carriage sent to receive them for the sake of allowing this closeness for a little longer. Daeron buries his face into his body, not even glimpsing into the city as they pass it, Tessarion flying low over their heads but King's Landing is not Oldtown and the people smile to the dragon, exchanging whispers and shouts of admiration.

“Your blue queen is getting a lot of admirers.” Gwayne whispers to his nephew as he watches two merchants smiling at the sky “They say your brother’s dragon shines as bright as the sun, but I think Tessarion may just steal everyone's hearts and crown herself as the prettiest dragon.”

Daeron doesn't say anything but he relaxes the tight grip on his body and that is enough for now.

Gwayne only loathes the idea that this will be temporary, that his sister will fold in front of father's disapproval and send Daeron back to Oldtown after a short visit. It will break his little heart, he is sure, to have this taste of his mother and siblings just to have it ripped away from him again, he was finally adjusting to Oldtown, accepting it as his home and this trip to King's Landing can ruin everything.

He avoided talking about how long they would stay for that same reason. Avoided even harder talking about how long he would stay, even if Daeron is here to stay permanently there is a very real possibility that Gwayne will be sent back to Oldtown as soon as he annoys his father too much and there is very little for him to do when the Hand of the King and the Queen are against his presence in the capitol.

Soon enough the Red Keep looms above their heads with guards calling for each other to open the gates.

Gwayne sucks a deep breath when he enters the courtyard, bracing himself for what it's to come.

It's Alicent he sees first, his sister is clad into a dark green dress, her hair in ornate braids but the luxurious clothing and golden jewelry cannot distract anyone from how ashen her skin is, how her eyes are puffy and red rimmed and even from a distance Gwayne can swear she is tearing up, hands clasped together. She looks at him and the relief in her expression is staggering, like she is taking her first breath in a long time.

The King is nowhere to be seen, Gwayne notices as he dismounts and helps Daeron to the ground, not that he expected anything else.

He very deliberately does not pay too much attention to his own father standing just a few steps behind Alicent. Sometimes avoiding the storm for a few blissful moments is better than facing it upfront, it means he can smile at Daeron and mean it, can give his hand a reassuring squeeze and guide him forward.

“Sister.” He smiles at her, bright and meaning it, and completes still only looking at her “Father. It's good to see you.”

“Daeron.” Alicent gasps, eyes filling with tears as she takes a step forward “You have grown so much.”

“Mother.” Daeron bows at her, all proper even if he is gripping Gwayne’s hand hard enough to be painful

Alicent takes another step forward, she reaches forward with trembling hands but stops just short of making contact with her youngest son, face both soft and full of pain. Daeron looks at Gwayne and he nods at him, giving him an encouraging smile, and the boy takes a deep breath before letting go of his hand and stepping forward, hesitating for a moment before throwing himself at his mother, Alicent hugs him back, whispering too low to be heard.

Gwayne can't even be mad that his own presence was completely ignored. Alicent pulls her son with her, Daeron turning to give his uncle one last wide-eyed stare but Gwayne just smiles and waves at him, trying to pretend his own insides are not twisting with something he would never dare to name.

Daeron is Alicent’s son. He can't forget that.

“Gwayne.” His father moves to occupy the space Alicent was in, his own smile firmly in place even if his eyes are colder than the Wall “It’s good to see you, my son. Join me?”

“Of course, father.” He lowers his head in acceptance, smile firmly in place “Lead the way.”

The slap is so vicious he loses balance for a second.

Honestly, he had expected it so the knight merely shakes his head as if to dispel the pain. Gwayne was a mouthy bastard in his youth, still is truth be told, and while his father would never be so crass as to even reprimand him in public, something about presenting a united front to the world, he was never shy about putting his hands on him in private, a deserted hallway close to his study is the perfect spot for Otto Hightower's anger to flash, it was when Gwayne was a boy and it obviously continues being now.

Father would tear Alicent down verbally, but Gwayne was always particularly good at shrugging the insults off.

“You should have never given attention to your sister's foolishness.” His father hisses, giving him one last look before turning sharply and continuing his path “You know better than this.”

“And you still wonder why the children would ditch you at the first opportunity.” Gwayne murmurs to himself, poking the cut on the inside of his mouth with his tongue tasting blood “Good for them, really.”

“Did you say anything?” His father stops, looking at him from over his shoulder, too far away already to properly hear him

“No father.” Gwayne smiles at him, fully aware that there must be blood on his teeth

His father doesn't even dignify him with anything else, be it a look or an answer, just continues walking confident that he will be followed.

Gwayne follows of course, as a dutiful son should, but mentally he pictures his father tripping and hitting his head against a wall. The mental image helps him keep a pleasant smile on his face as they walk the halls.

Chapter 18

Chapter Text

“Mother please, it has been more than enough time already.”

Jacaerys claps his hands together in a begging position, eyes wide and tearful, lower lip trembling as he stares at her, at his side Helaena has her own pleading expression firmly in place looking at her with her own teary eyes and downcast eyebrows.

Rhaenyra sighs, deeply and pinches the bridge of her nose. Laenor, standing behind her, has the decency to lower his head into her shoulder to try to hide his smile even if Rhaenyra would prefer if he could be subtler with it.

“We will be so well behaved, sister.” Helaena pleads, stepping forward to stand shoulder to shoulder with Jace “We will be calm and speak softly and be very respectful.”

As if Helaena even knows how to raise her own voice, Rhaenyra thinks fighting the urge to snort, the girl has a spine, she is well aware of that, but she is as fragile as her butterflies sometimes, lost into the horrors only she can see.

“He must be so lonely.” Jace says, shaking his head in almost horror “It’s been almost a week mom, and he hasn’t spoken to anyone but you, father and the maesters! Stuck in his chambers, all by himself, that must be so terrible.”

“We will be able to provide him company while you and uncle are busy with the children, and we can even help with his recovery.” Helaena says “We can accompany him on short walks in the halls and get him to rest when needed, it will be good for him, won't it?”

“You said he must relearn how to adapt to the world, and how he can do that stuck in his chambers with no company?” Jace says, a frown on his face “We are family, you have always said it’s our duty to care for one another, so why can’t we offer our help when Aemond needs us the most?”

“You know.” Laenor whispers, his head still on her neck, amusem*nt clear in his voice “They are making some really valid points.”

“I know.” She replies to him, equally as low, before looking at the two children in front of her, a hint of a smile on her lips “I will talk to him, if Aemond doesn’t mind your presence, you can visit him.”

“Thank you mother!”

“That will be lovely, sister!”

Both exclaim at the same time, Jace throwing his arms around her and Helaena reaching for her hand for a gentle squeeze, identical grins on their faces.

Honestly, this betrothal may work even better than she expected when she proposed it, Jacaerys and Helaena have bonded with one another in a way she didn’t see coming since the attack and she can see this partnership flourishing into something beautiful for both of them in the future.

Her son will be a good king, Rhaenyra will give him all the support and advice she didn’t get in her own youth, she will make sure he will never suffer or make a fool of himself in front of the snakes of the court, not more than any youth does as it’s natural of them to be brash and naive in certain matters, but Jace will never be made to be a servant to men he is supposed to rule over when he should be sitting at the table with them, she will not fail in his education as her father failed in her’s.

Rhaenyra had to learn how to move in the murky and dangerous waters of politics on her own, had to deal with the consequences of mistakes made in her youth, mistakes she didn’t even fully realize she was making because no one bothered to point them out to her, Crown Princess she was claimed, yet no moves were made to make her more than a cupbearer in the council until she was far too old for that.

Jacaerys will never suffer from her fate, he will face his own challenges, ones she cannot ease from his shoulders as much as she would want to, and he will have his own struggles as all of them do, but Rhaenyra will do anything to make this as easy for her son as possible.

And Helaena will make a good queen.

Her younger sister is perhaps not what the lords and ladies of the Court expect of a lady, let alone of a future queen, she will probably never host balls and mingle with the ladies as Aemma and Alicent have done, like Rhaenyra herself should have done when she was young and too full of rage and helplessness to think about her future, and that is more than alright with Rhaenyra.

Helaena is strong in her own way, she flourishes when given the opportunity to speak and even if she speaks in riddles most of the time when one takes the time to truly listen to her valuable information can come from it. And she is kind, kind and clever and she thinks about others, fine qualities in a queen, far more than being able to cater to the vapid wishes of lords who don’t care about anything more than their own status and power.

She will build the foundations for their success. She, Laenor, Harwin and Daemon. They will do everything in their power to build a future where their house stands strong, where their children do not buckle and perish under far too heavy burdens.

Seeing both of them now, standing shoulder to shoulder as they plead their case to see Aemond, using logical arguments and a healthy dose of manipulation in the form of wet eyes, she can almost imagine them in the future working together for the realm, uniting the two sides of their family in a way that could never be broken.

Rhaenyra was not the sole responsible for breaking their family apart, but she will see them fixed in her lifetime.

She will see her children safe and happy, she will see her siblings secure and cherished, she will see her family thriving.

And it all starts now, it starts with fixing what she didn’t even know was broken in the first place, it starts with bringing the children close to both herself and each other, to make sure they will always have someone they can rely on even in their darkest time, even when they don’t even know they need help, when they may not want help.

She squeezes Helaena’s hand and with her free one she caresses Jace’s hair, not pulling away or letting go until both children step back, still smiling at her before turning to each other with equally joyful looks.

“Go break your fast.” She tells them “And I will talk with Aemond. If he agrees to have visitors I will call for you later.”

“Come now.” Laenor coaches them when they open their mouths to protest, gently nudging them away after exchanging a last smile with Rhaenyra “He will not be going anywhere.”

They can skip a day of lessons if that is the case, if Aemond decides to see them, Rhaenyra has already greatly reduced the amount of time dedicated to their studies since the attack, aware that if she finds it hard to focus on her duties given the situation it must be unbearable for the children to be confined to the library and expected to pay attention to matter that must look so trivial to them at the moment, she has not excused them completely just to give them a bit of structure and something to focus on, but it’s no pain to forego it altogether in this moment, Jace and Helaena, and the others when they catch wind of it, can easily carve time to spent with Aemond during their days later.

Rhaenyra knocks on Aemond’s door, waiting a few seconds for the invitation before opening it herself, giving the guard a quick nod before closing it. Aemond is looking out of the window as she enters, probably looking at Vhagar, the massive dragon having taken residence as close as to the castle as she could, sometimes flying so low over the castle Rhaenyra is half afraid she will knock down a tower some day, she wants her rider, the princess understands, and the separation is making her restless as much as it is doing Aemond.

Her brother turns to look at her, a fragile smile on his lips.

He smiles more, those days, as the pain dims and the reality of his lost eye settles on his shoulders and progress comes by slowly but surely. It pains her, deeply, to see him struggle with the easiest things, bumping into desks and chairs and losing his footing in a way he never did before, to see him struggle to read for too long and to struggle to write even the shortest of sentences, pain still burning in his head more times than not.

Rhaenyra would take all of his pain for herself if she could, would make sure he never had to experience any of those hardships even if that meant struggling with them herself.

“Sister.” He nods at her before making his way to where servants have already set the table with light foods, the only thing both of them are able to keep down those days

“Aemond.” She smiles at him, moving to put a kiss on his head before pulling a chair for herself, fighting the urge to wince when he bumps into the corner of the desk, a grimace on his face “How are you little brother?”

“I'm alright sister, thank you.”

Rhaenyra doesn't even know why she asks when the answer has never once changed, even when she knew he must have been in pain, when there are tight lines around his face as he suppressed it, Aemond still insisted he was alright, that she didn’t need to worry.

It had, of course, the opposite effect, it only made her worry more because she realized she would not be able to trust him to say when he was suffering, to take care of himself so Rhaenyra needed to pay closer attention to him in order to make sure he received all the care he needed.

It breaks her heart, as many things about her siblings do, to see him trying to pretend to be alright simply because he cannot allow himself to trust she will love him unconditionally. Laenor’s recount of their talk haunts her mind every time she looks at him, tugs at her heart the knowledgment that her little brother thinks she could ever be mad at him for something that is so glaringly not his fault, that he expected anger and resentment when there was only ever worry and love.

They eat in silence, mostly because it still takes Aemond some effort to eat by himself and Rhaenyra doesn't want to make it harder for him, it's only when he pushes his plate away that she lowers her own bread, aiming for casual.

“Helaena and Jace want to see you.”

“They do?” Aemond turn to look at her, eye wide and amazed

“Of course! They have been begging since the first day, but you still needed rest but now that you are feeling better, I am afraid I cannot hold them back for much longer.” She replies with a quiet chuckle “I don’t know how many times I have had to send them away because they tried to sneak in, Rhaena as well, they are quite insistent.”

“They aren’t angry either?”

“No one is angry, sweetling.” Her tone softens at the way he taps his fingers on the desk anxiously “No one has any reason to be angry at you. They are worried about you, just like me, and want to make sure you are alright, they miss your presence you know.”

“I miss them too.” Aemond admits, still looking at his own hands as they drum on the table, voice dipping lower as he continues “But I wouldn’t be any fun for them, I can’t do the things we used to.”

“That wouldn’t matter to them at all.” Rhaenyra reassures him, fighting to urge to take his hand and hold it and probably never let go “They just want to spend time with you again, even if just sitting together and talking, it’s one of the arguments they have used tirelessly before, that they wouldn’t make your injuries any worse.”

“I don’t know.” Aemond says, not looking at her “They are going to see it, for the first time, the injury. It’s ugly, isn’t it? Even with the bandages, it’s ugly. Helaena is very gentle of heart and Jace is young, wouldn’t it be scary for them?”

Rhaenyra bites back the automatic reply that Jacaerys is not even a full year younger than him, instead trying to decide what’s the best course of action in this situation, the best way she can get through her brother’s thick head that his worries are so unfolded that they would be funny, if they aren’t rooted in such dark issues about how Aemond sees himself and how little worth he sees on himself.

“Look at me.” She says after a few moments of silence, gently nudging her brother’s chin until he lifts his head even if his gaze is somewhere on her chin “First of all, your scar is not ugly. You are not ugly. You are my sweet handsome little brother and I will have the tongue of anyone who dares say otherwise.”

And Rhaenyra isn’t even joking.

She knows, and Aemond probably does as well, all of the children have to be keenly and painfully aware, of how judgemental and sharp tongued the vipers of court are, how they prey on any perceived flaw and use it to tear each other down, spreading nasty rumors and laughing behind each other’s backs. Rhaenyra was young once, she and Alicent used to gossip about others just as she knew other’s gossiped about them.

After her boys were born Rhaenyra was even more aware of how poisonous those whispers are, how deep those words could cut and how she, as a woman grown, married and a mother already, the Crown Princess herself, could sometimes have to fight the urge to tear up at some of their words, at the way they criticized her for the crime of breathing too hard, of eating too much, of not losing the weight of her pregnancy fast enough for their taste. She knows what they whisper about her boys, her sweet, precious, clever boys, who have been punished and gossiped about since the moment they took their first breath.

Rhaenyra has always been ruthless about dealing with the gossip about her boys, she has made a point of linking it to direct treason, and she only waits for an opportunity to have someone executed for this crime, even if only to prove that she will have her father’s support in her actions, that he too will not take kindly to slander against his grandchildren.

It will not be hard to be equally ruthless about the whispering that her brother will be subjected to. She will not have those f*ckers at court making him feel ashamed of himself, not when even now, with the injury still fresh, it is still not more than an thin line going from the top of his eyebrow to the middle of this cheekbone, nothing that will scar that badly. The worst of it is, of course, the empty eye socket, but she has been talking to maesters about alternatives and ways of making it comfortable for her little brother and if he wishes for it, an eyepatch would cover more than enough of the scar.

She knows for a fact that many of those loose tongued vipers are much uglier even without scars on their faces.

“And again, I know for a fact that neither Helaena and Jace will mind your injury or the scar it will leave behind. You received this scar protecting my son, Jace’s baby brother, Helaena’s nephew, and it is nothing more than a token of your bravery and courage, I will not have you feeling ashamed of yourself for it, understand me?” Rhaenyra searches for his gaze, continuing even softer when she notices the tear welling up in his eye “But this is your choice, Aemond. If you still don’t feel ready to see them, I will keep them and everyone else away until you feel comfortable enough. What do you want, little brother? Not even after this matter, just tell me what you truly want the most right now?”

“Can I go see Vhagar?”

Ah, she almost expected this to be brought up.

Rhaenyra presses her lips together, unsure of what to say. Her immediate instinct is to say yes, to allow him unrestricted time with his dragon both for his sake and for Vhagar who is terrifying people with her mourning, baring teeth to anyone who approaches her, dragon keepers and other dragons alike, Rhaenyra doubts the massive dragon has even eaten anything since Aemond was injured, it will do good, for both of them to see each other.

But the stairs.

Aemond is still struggling with his balance and the idea of him descending the stairs of Dragonstone or even walking on the uneven terrain outside make her insides twist with uneasiness, head immediately filled with many scenarios that end up with him hurt even more than he already is.

Her little brother is in so much pain already, she can’t phantom inflicting anything else onto him.

“I know you worry about the stairs and the ground outside.” Aemond says, carefully, choosing his words with great care “But I can go with a guard and I swear I will let him help me, no complaining about anything he tells me to do. She is so sad, I can feel it, and even if I do fall, it’s a worthy exchange to reassure her that everything is alright, it would probably help move her, I know people must be uneasy with her proximity to the castle’s walls. Please, sister.”

Of course Vhagar is sad, if Rhaenyra is burning with regret over her inability to have saved her children from such a traumatic event she can’t even imagine what the she dragon is feeling in this moment, knowing her rider was harmed and she was powerless to stop it despite the fact she was right there. Vhagar is suffering, they can all see it, so of course Aemond must be even more keenly aware of it, sharing a soulbond with her as he does.

Once more Rhaenyra feels her resolve weakening at the pleading tone in his voice, the hopeful yet resigned look on his eyes, the way Aemond asks for the simplest of things as if he has to give her a elaborated reason, something logical and factual, rather than just saying that he misses his dragon and wants to see her. She wonders how he learned to do that, how many times his wishes were denied until he ingrained into himself that he could not ask for anything he wanted, just because he wanted it.

“Nonsense.” Rhaenyra shakes her head, pushing down the urge to kill Otto and Alicent with her bare hands “I can go with you, if the maesters allow it. It will do you both good to see each other.”

“You don't have to.” Aemond frowns “I know you have duties to attend to sister, I will be alright with a guard, you don't need to bother yourself.”

“You are more important than any duty I may have here.” Rhaenyra says, moving so she can cup his uninjured cheek, caressing his cheek with her thumb “I don't have to, but I want to, Aemond. It's not a bother to spend time with you, but a pleasure.”

“Oh.” Aemond says, eye closing as she continues caressing his cheek, leaning into her touch “If it wouldn't be a bother, I would really enjoy your company.”

“Never.” Rhaenyra says, smiling at him

“And maybe after I could talk with Helaena and Jace.” Aemond says, looking at her in search of reassurance

“That would be perfect, I think.” She doesn’t even fight the urge to lean forward and press a kiss to his forehead as she rises from her chair “I will see what the maester thinks, and will return shortly with his response.”

She lets out another mournful sound, something from the deep of her very being.

Her boy is hurt.

Her tiny boy, so brave, so lovely, so full of adoration constantly pouring from their bond, and yet the humans have hurt him, the man who stank of greed and anger had made her boy bleed in front of her eyes, had gripped him with his filthy hands and her boy had screamed, had felt pain and fear so bitter she could taste it as she flied over their heads.

The other human, the one who smelled too much of her brave girl’s girl to not have caused her harm, that one she had burned, had relinquished in the way he screamed as her flames consumed him whole. But she couldn’t do anything for her boy, not when the filthy human was so close to him.

She had watched her boy be hurt, had felt his emotions, how even as pain consumed him, as fear for his life poured from his very soul, he still tried to calm her, still pushed love into her as if he could somehow calm the storm in her.

Her sweet boy.

She lost two of her own in towers like this, in stone constructions they entered to never leave again.

Her dragon girl lived a long life, filed with pain and loss and fire and blood and war, but a long life for a human nonetheless, and yet her death was sudden, one moment her dragon girl was alive and burning as bright as always even as her body failed her, and in the next she was gone, their bond broken by death.

Her happy boy was so young. So full of life, so full of happiness, of plans and hopes he would whisper to her as they took to the skies together, so much joy poured from him until the day it didn’t. Until her happy boy was confined to a tower he never left, until sickness took root on his body and her happy boy was taken from her even when the humans tried to save his life.

She doesn’t like it. Her sweet boy being in a stone building so far away from her after the blood that left his body.

He is so fragile, so easily breakable. If her dragon girl and her happy boy, both stronger, older, burning bright until they suddenly weren’t, could be so easily taken from her, what stops her sweet boy from never leaving the stone building again?

She lowers her head again, careful enough to not crush any part of the stone building, the one her dragon girl had called home for so very long, and mourns.

It’s only when she feels him that her head rises, sharply, quicker than she is used to since she has grown larger and larger. Her sweet boy, she can feel him, can smell him much closer than usual and automatically her eyes start to search for him.

It’s not long until she can see him, tiny, so tiny, with something covering his face, walking arm in arm with his kin, with the woman who smelled of dragon and who looked at her boy with fondness. She is not her boy’s mother, she had smelled the one who carried him when they were together to mourn for her brave girl, yet it’s this woman who smells strongly of protection and love when she looks at her sweet boy.

She likes the woman. Her sweet boy is always happy when she is close and that is enough for her.

Her sweet boy still reeks of pain, hints of fear still buried in his being, but the closer he gets the love is pouring so strongly that it overpowers everything else. She matches his pouring, sharing her own love and her own worry until it covers the pain and the struggle clinging to him.

Her boy has left the tower. She has not lost him.

She lets out another sound, this one of happiness as she lowers her head again, allowing her boy to stumble his way to her, under the worried eyes and hovering hands of the woman, until he can rest his whole body against her snout, uncaring about anything as he clings to her, hiding his face into her scales and she gently, gentler than she ever thought herself capable, nuzzles into him, casting her wing over them until her boy is hidden from the world.

Oh, how she wishes, for a moment, that she was smaller enough to curl around him until all he could feel was her body, until she could shield him. But the feeling is fleeting. She is the largest of her kin and with her power and her size she can protect her sweet boy from anyone who would dare to try to harm him again.

Safe and tucked into her, her sweet boy allows himself to break into tears, to sob so hard his tiny body shakes into her and she nuzzles into her again, letting out a soft breath that warms the space created by her wing. She allows her boy his sadness and his relief, apologies in their bond for her failure warmed by his immediate protest, by the way he clings harder to her, his tiny hands so very careful even if he could never bring her harm even if he wanted, even if she would allow him to try.

She moves, gently, always so very gently with her sweet boy, against him, as much of a caress as she can manage with her size, pouring her love and her happiness into their bond, relinquishing the love and devotion she receives back.

Her sweet boy is safe, safe and tucked into her where no harm will ever befall him again.

She will not allow it. Never again.

Spools of green, spools of black, spinning, spinning, spinning.

Always, always spinning.

Dragons dancing in the sky as fire and blood rain onto the ground underneath. Screams, loud, so impossibly louder, the smell of flesh burning, the pain of a blade into the eye, the feeling of the wind on her skin before the unforgiving cold of spikes.

No, she shakes her head almost violently as if to force the images to leave, no, not anymore.

They have been getting easier to ignore, to dispel as bad dreams, the further her family, unknowingly, pushes against them, fights day and night to go against the visions that plague her mind.

Poison green, corrupting everything in its path, thick and vicious and foul tasting. She pictures herself spitting it out, takes pleasure in the mental image of it leaving her body, of being gently involved in black thread, warm and comforting, until the green is forced to leave, to hide into the dark corners where it should never have left.

We will not dance, she hums mentally at the universe, an affirmation, sharp and true, a challenge. You cannot make us dance down the path of fire and blood, of slaughter and loss, we reject it.

Helaena hums to herself, eyes focused on the outside world, on the thick gray clouds where she can barely make out Grey Ghost and Seasmoke, both dragons almost the same color of the sky blending in so very easily as they fly lazily in the sky, visible just when they cut through the clouds or when the sun hits the scales just right, and a smile stretches itself on her face watching it, watching uncle Laenor teaching Rhaena how to fly, with the gentleness she deserves.

Dreamfyre was her teacher, but Grey Ghost is wild and untamed, as unused to a rider as Rhaena is to a dragon of her own, and they both must be taught. Uncle Laenor and Seasmoke will be good teachers.

There will be no pink scales, no boat into the unknown, but that is alright. They have smoke gray and family now.

Different, doesn’t always mean worse. Now, if anyone cares about Helaena’s opinion and she has found that quite a lot of people actually do, different means better.

“What are you thinking about?” Jace asks as he sits on the windowsill, careful to not brush against her

She smiles at him, tearing her eyes from the skies to look at the earth of his eyes

Jacaerys is younger than her, smaller in stature, and his appearance is a sharp contrast to her own, where Helaena is all pale silver and lilac so light it’s almost white, Jace has dark curls in a round face and big brown eyes that shine with kindness.

In another life he would not be her’s. Mother would not allow it, Grandfather would scheme to see them torn from each other before they could even find one another, they would push for a cursed union that would bring nothing but grief and blood.

But this is not that life, it’s not the visions that plague her, not anymore. Jace will be her’s now, and she will be his’.

It doesn’t displease him.

Jace is kind and understanding, he doesn’t laugh at her or crush her bugs, he doesn’t recoil from them and call them names even when she does know he finds them scary or strange. He listens, he treats them with respect.

He will treat her the same, Helaena is sure of it. He will listen to her and respect her, and never call her names like so many others do. Even now, he waits patiently for her reply, never pinching her to hurry up or snapping as the septas are so very prone to doing.

“About how things are changing.” She finally replies, playing with one of her rings “Did you ever expect them to go this way?”

“No.” Jace shakes his head, still smiling at her “But I think, I hoped they would. I like us like this, acting like a family, rather than fighting.”

“I like us like this too.”

“Good.” Jace smiles even more, eyes crinkling at the corner “We will be alright Helaena, mother will make sure that no one ever hurts you or your siblings again. I will protect you too.”

Jacaerys doesn’t even know about it all. About the screams, the tears, the poison green being forced down their throats until they started to drink it willingly just to stop the violence, about the pinches on her sides, about the bruises on her brothers. But he knows enough, has seen enough to know that darkness lurks into what was once her side of the family.

“We will protect you too.” She promises him, eyes determined “The dragons will stand together, never again shall they dance.”

The dragons have danced before, but not in the way they would, not the way they did in her mind. Not with such vicious hatred burning deep, not with so much loss and fear and panic and despair clinging to him, not until they tore each other apart until there was nothing left standing.

And they will not, Helaena has already decided, after a taste of this new world, this world where Jace holds her hand tenderly and Aegon doesn’t reek of wine and Aemond smiles and means it, she will not allow them to drink the poison ever again.

They are not towers, they are dragons and they are not made to be earthbound.

Speaking of dragons, Helaena turns sharply even before the door opens, already stalking forward.

Aemond has barely taken a step into the room when Helaena carefully throws her arms around him, feeling her little brother tense before he relaxes, his hands hovering over her back until she hugs him tighter and he finally fully melts against her, unharmed side of his face pressed against her shoulder.

Tears sting on the back of her eyes as she cradles him into her arms.

She had been so happy, when things changed, when the spin slowed and she couldn’t see him closing his eyes anymore. When he could get his dragon and gain family rather than losing anything it filled her with relief, it made the spinning grow lazy, the visions on the back of her mind changing, always changing.

It shouldn’t happen, it’s not fair that even when they are doing everything right, when they are trying so hard to not dance, to not tear each other apart, her little brother still has to pay a price for it. The universe still sees it fit to make him pay for his happiness with a piece of himself.

“It was love.” She whispers, a console to both him and herself “You closed an eye, not because of hate, but love. It changes everything.”

“Thank you.” Jace is suddenly at their side and his arms close around them both, his grip tighter and his voice wet “Thank you for saving Luke.”

“We are here.” Helaena says, before her brother can open his mouth “We are all here for you, every step of the way you will have us standing with you. No longer alone, none of us will ever be alone again.”

“I promise it.” Jace nods against their bodies, unwilling to step back “I will help you recover, in whatever way you need, not only because you saved my little brother, but because we are family, and family sticks together, especially when things are tough.”

“Thank you.” Aemond murmurs, his own voice weak and fragile, his grip on them tight to the point of hurting but neither complain “It will be a long journey.”

“That’s more than alright.” Helaena hums

“I guess, it just means you are stuck with us for a long journey and for a very long time afterwards as well.” Jace goes for a smile “We are bonded for life.”

Helaena closes her eyes, more warm than she has ever felt.

Dragons dance in the sky in the back of her mind, but not a dance of claws and teeths and fire, no, they dance as one, moving in the air with grace, laughter being carried by the wind.

The world in her mind shifts, twists itself into something new, something brighter.

The wind in her skin is not pleasant, it’s flying high enough to touch the clouds. The smell of burning flesh becomes the smell of flames, of candles, of warm food. The pain from a sword disappears, the feeling of water crushing her lungs is equally as gone.

Helaena smiles, bright and unburdened for maybe the first time in her life.

Spools of black, spinning, spinning, spinning until they spread, until they overcome green, until they consume and transform it.

It spins, it will not stop spinning until the green is completly gone, but for the first time it does not scare her.

Chapter 19

Chapter Text

Aegon has watched his brother, from afar, hidden by walls and ugly sculptures that are scattered around the halls of Dragonstone, watching as Aemond braves the outside world for the first time since the injury. Helaena and Jacaerys are almost always by his side, Helaena overcoming whatever aversion to touch she has to hold Aemond’s arm and gently guide him, Jace is bolder, his grip stronger when he jumps to catch the silver haired prince when he stumbles or loses his balance.

Aegon has watched his brother’s progress with relief flooding his veins. Aemond needs less support each day, their walks longer and they talk more, voices too low for him to hear.

Sister has not allowed him even near the stairs without an adult accompanying him, so that makes Aegon's stalking a little more embarrassing as more than once he had to dunk inside a room to avoid them as they turned to retrace their steps.

He lurks outside his door as well, Rhaena usually leaves it open when she goes to visit him, carrying a book or a table game for them to play, never once making a big deal when Aemond tires quickly or ends up sending the pieces to the floor, just quietly putting it away and starting a talk about some boring thing they both like.

It fills Aegon with dread because he doesn't know if he could do that. If he could have not only the infinity patient they are showing but also their ability to not react, to not burst into tears when his little brother looks downright devastated when he misjudge the distance of something or knocks things off the table, they just continue as if nothing happened and Aegon can barely keep himself from doing a full body cringe while he lurks.

The guards give him funny looks when they see him standing like a creep watching the younger children, but no one has said anything to him yet- Even if he can feel uncle Laenor's eyes burrowing into his head- and that is more than alright with Aegon. He is more than used to being stared at and judged and the guards are far kinder than his family or their guards at the Red Keep.

That to say Aegon almost jumps out of his own skin when he feels a tugging at his shirt when he is watching Aemond and Jace talk quietly looking out of the window, a high pitched sound coming from his mouth before he can stop himself.

“What are you doing?” Luke asks, voice far too loud in the otherwise peaceful halls

“Shut up!”

Quickly he drags Luke a safe distance away, a hand firmly around his arm, closing a door to an empty room behind himself, probably louder than he should, feeling his heart beating itself out of his chest.

That was close.

The older prince scowls at his nephew who is looking at him with very unimpressed eyes and arched eyebrows that very much scream ‘Rhaenyra’, and Aegon bravely resists the urge to squirms where he stands because he will not be cowed by a child younger than his brother, he has more dignity than that. He was in fact stalking his younger relatives like some sort of creep, but he was doing that quietly, hidden by the shadows and unknown to anyone but the guards and their inquisitive stares, there is a decree of dignity on doing that and not being discovered and he will not have Luke exposing him like this.

“What were you doing?” Lucerys asks again, unbothered by his internal indignation

“Nothing.” He tries to be casual with a shrug “I was just admiring the tapestry.”

Luke just squints at him, wholly unimpressed and Aegon particularly thinks he is too young to be this clever, what happened to young children being silly and easily gullible? In his experience young children are f*cking savages, both his siblings and nephews far too clever for Aegon to get away with simple lies as this one.

“Then why did you run and drag me with you? You don’t even care about tapestries.” Luke crosses his own arms, voice accusing “You are spying on Jace and Aemond.”

“Of course I care about tapestries!” He says, a haughty expression on his face “Just because you can’t appreciate the craftsmanship of them, doesn’t mean all of us are equally uncultured.”

“Uncle Aegon there wasn’t any tapestry in that part of the halls.”

“Oh alright, maybe I was spying on them.” Aegon sighs, rolling his eyes and trying to hide embarrassment with annoyance, pretending he can't feel his ears burning “And what were you doing there?”

“I was watching them too.” Luke says, like it's the easiest thing in the world

“What the f*ck.”

“Don't swear, mother doesn't like it.”

“Sister is not here.” Aegon dismisses the worry with an offhand gesture, his turn to squint at his nephew “Why were you spying on them?”

“Why were you spying on them?”

“I asked first.”

“And I asked second.” The younger boy automatically replies, eyebrows so high they disappear under his curls

Aegon looks at the ceiling and begs the gods’ to give him strength.

“Well, I'm older than you and you own me respect, so you should answer me first.”

“That's not how it works.”

“That's exactly how it works.”

“You are a lying liar who lies.”

“Lucerys, I will throw you out of the nearest window.”

“You know you are not scary at all right?” Luke squints at him again, sounding far too amused “I'm not afraid of you, uncle Aegon.”

The silver haired prince throws his arms in the air, kicking at his nephew's shin when the boy giggles at his attempt of doing a severe expression. Great, not even a little boy respects Aegon, his reputation must be lower than the seven hells at this point.

“Little sh*t.” He hisses, kicking at him again but Luke just kicks him back even harder and Aegon clutches his leg a betrayed expression “I didn't hit you this hard!”

“But you didn't answer me either!”

“I wanted to know how he was doing alright?” Aegon finally says, pinching the bridge of his nose “I just wanted to see Aemond, have a problem with that?”

“And you had to spy him? Couldn't you just talk to him?”

“No.” Comes the dry answer before he narrows his eyes at the boy “Now you, what were you doing spying on them?”

“The same thing.” Luke says, looking at the floor, voice losing the previous mirth

“And couldn't you just talk to him?”

Aegon knows why he is avoiding his little brother, is well aware of his f*ck ups and how shameless it would look for him to try to play worried big brother now, but Luke? Why wouldn't Luke just talk with Aemond? As far as he is aware, both of them had started to get closer, not as much as Jace and Aemond, but close enough to leave the childish disagreements behind themselves.

But his little nephew just continues looking at the floor, playing with his own fingers, shoulders hunching together and he looks so pathetic, so much like a flower who withered right in front of his eyes, that Aegon almost feels bad for asking him about his motivations.

“No.” Luke scowls at the ground, voice wavering “It’s my fault he is hurt, how can I just go talk to him? He must hate me.”

I need my sister, Aegon thinks with a sudden pang of desperation, I need sister or uncle Laenor and I need them right now.

Aegon is not, in any way, shape or form, the person who should be having this conversation with Luke. This is something absolutely out of his element, he is the fun drunk uncle who plays and provokes the younger kids, he is the one who encourages them to break the rules and play pranks, who nudges them into getting into trouble in his place, who basks in their adoration of him, in the easy way they seem to like him, he is not the person they run to with their problems, the one who knows the right words to soothe their hearts.

Aegon can’t even deal with his own issues without breaking down in front of the first adult who offers him kindness, what can he do? Hug Luke and ugly cry with him?

Yes, because that would surely help his nephew with whatever issues he is still having because of the attack.

But sister is not here and neither is uncle Laenor, it’s only him and Luke in this empty room and he can’t in good conscience just turn his back to the boy when he looks seconds away from bursting into tears, his chubby cheeks puffed out as he bites his lips trying to gulp them down. It’s time he makes good on his mental promise to himself of becoming a better person and that starts by not putting his foot on his mouth now.

“What happened was not your fault Luke, Aemond doesn’t hate you.” He puts an awkward hand on the boy’s shoulder but Luke shakes it off, stepping back

“So does everyone tell me.” He scowls at the floor, voice wet

“If everyone is telling you this then it’s clearly the truth.”

“I’m not a little kid!” Luke bites out, which is kind of funny because he is very much still a little kid “I don’t need everyone to lie to me, to pretend everything is fine when it isn’t!”

“Luke, you had no way of knowing that would happen, it wasn’t you who hurt Aemond.”

“But the guard wasn’t trying to hurt him!” Luke almost screams looking at him with angry eyes filled with tears “It was me! He was trying to stab me but Aemond pushed me out of the way and that is why he lost his eye, because he was saving me. And then he pushed me and Rhaena outside and that is why the guard could stab him again! If I wasn’t there he and Rhaena could have run away, he wouldn’t be hurt!”

Oh. Aegon cringes and softens at the same time at this new piece of information. Truth be told he had not looked into the details of the attack, when uncle Laenor came to talk to him about it Aegon had asked for the minimum of details possible so while he knew that Aemond had pushed both Rhaena and Luke out of the cave, and that is why he had ended up far more injured than them, he had just assumed that the loss of his eye was a result of the same attack.

His little brother always had to do the most, didn’t he?

In front of him Luke just lowers his head again and Aegon doesn’t need to see the tears dripping on the floor to know he lost the battle against them, his shaking shoulders an obvious enough signal of the defeat, before he can even think about what to say, Luke is opening his mouth again.

“I was so mean to him.” Luke sobs “I gave him a pig and I laughed at him all the time, and I didn’t mean to! I didn’t mean to be mean, but I was, I hurt him and now I hurt him again. I saw him crying, after the maesters talked with him about his eye, he was crying so much. I didn’t want to hurt him again, uncle Aegon, I just want to be his friend.”

“I was meaner.” Aegon confesses, because that is the only thing he can think of saying, his own voice trembling “I was much meaner to him than you Luke, worse still because I was mean because I wanted to be, and that is why I can’t just go see how he is doing. But you apologized didn’t you? And he accepted it, he likes you, he likes you very much.”

“How can you know?”

“Because it’s you. You are a good kid Luke, and Aemond knows that you just went along with my bullsh*t, that I’m much more to blame for that than you. He wouldn’t have saved your life if he didn’t think of you as his friend.”

“Yes, he would have.”

Well, that’s a fair point, because Aemond probably would, being all proper and desperate to get the approval of all the adults around him as he is, but that doesn’t take away from Aegon’s point as far as he is concerned. Aemond cares about their nephews, he doesn’t doubt he saved Luke and Rhaena because he would prefer himself to be hurt than them, Aegon knows because he likes to think he would have wanted the same thing.

“Don’t be a little sh*t.” He tries for a smile, reaching to put his hand on Luke’s shoulder again and squeezing gently before he can shake it off “Listen to me, Aemond thinks about you as his friend, he likes you very much and I know he doesn’t blame you for his injuries. I think he would be very happy if you visited him.”

“He loves you too.” Luke says, his tears slowly stopping even if they still fall from his brown eyes

“And how do you know that?” Aegon asks trying to pretend the words don’t make him want to cry

“He talks about you a lot.” Luke admits “And he always defended you to everyone, even if never when you were around.”

Oh, nice. Like Aegon needs another reason to feel like the sh*ttiest brother in the world.

“I didn’t know that.”

“I don’t think he wanted you to know.” Luke continues, moving so he can wipe his tears, frustrated when they continue falling. “I don’t want Jace to know I think he is the coolest brother in the world, he would be so annoying about it, I think Aemond doesn’t want you to be annoying about it either.”

Or, more likely, Aemond just thought Aegon would mock him about it, or lash out at the idea of needing his younger brother to defend him. Still the idea has tears welling in his own eyes.

And Lucerys, well Lucerys is Rhaenyra’s and Laenor’s son and kindness is apparently something that just overflows from them all and the second he realizes the tears in his eyes small arms are quickly thrown around him, Luke clinging to him in comfort even when he is still crying, and Aegon is quick to return the hug the best he can, closing his eyes to force the tears to stay back with the practice of years of trying to keep his facade in front of his mother.

“Maybe we should go see him together.” Aegon offer, voice a soft murmur, a hand on Luke’s hair

“I would like that.”

Rhaenyra finds Laenor sitting quietly on an armchair in the library, there is a somber look on his face as he stares at his own hand, holding a burning letter uncaring about the way the heat must be burning his fingers.

Laenor is a dragon and fire is a part of his being as much as the sea, he relinquishes in the burning heat as much as she does even when his flesh protests against the treatment. It still tugs at her heart and she approaches him with caution, a frown on her forehead and Laenor doesn't even startle when she puts her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it.

“Bad news?” She asks quietly

“News for my eyes only.” He smiles at her, barely a lift of his lips “Better it to be destroyed than to fall into wrong hands.”

“You don't look very happy about them.” Rhaenyra insists “Tell me Laenor, even if it's upsetting, especially if it's upsetting.”

“Qarl will go back to the Stepstones.” Laenor says, voice quiet and that ghost of a smile disappearing as he closes his eyes “This was his goodbye. When we return to King’s Landing he will be long gone.”

“Oh, Laenor.” Rhaenyra whispers, heart clenching for him, eyes softening “But he will come back, won't he?”

“Even if he does, what we had just can't be, not anymore.” Laenor takes a shuddering breath, eyes still closed, voice almost trembling “This is our last goodbye.”

Laenor's sadness terrifies Rhaenyra.

Her and Daemon's sadness is quick to turn to burning anger, they are dragons and a dragon’s instinct to pain is often to lash out and burn everything in their path, is to consume the world so it understands their pain. Their sadness is a ugly thing to witness, hard to miss even if it's often misunderstood, often seen as shallow, as merely rage, they make their sadness the world’s problem most of the time because to keep it tucked into their chest would be to choke on it until they crumbled under its weight.

Their hurt is messy and loud and angry above all else, it bursts out of their chest even against their wishes. Rhaenyra has fought long and hard to shape her sadness into something softer, easily contained, to keep it closer to her chest, lest she burn those around her.

Laenor's sadness is quiet.

It creeps on the edges of his eyes, on the corner of his smiles, it lives and festers tucked into his heart where no one is allowed to see, where he can pretend it's not there even as it tears him from the inside out, until it grips his everything like vines, choking him even if no one can see.

Like a ship stuck in a storm Laenor endures. And then he breaks, he breaks quietly, like a ship sinking into the furious ocean with a hole no one could see was there until it was too late, he breaks in the form of silent tears during their rushed and blood bathed wedding, he breaks on the shattered smile on his face as they closed the doors of their new chambers with the expectations of the kingdom on their shoulders, in the way his hands shook as he moved to remove his clothing to fulfill a duty neither had wanted.

He breaks on shuddering breaths as Rhaenyra stilled his hands and shook her head, in the loosening of his shoulders as she cut her arm and let herself bleed on the white sheets, on the way he cried, quietly on her arms afterwards.

His sadness terrifies Rhaenyra because she is deadly afraid that one day it will be too quiet for her to see until it's too late, that she will miss the signals until the pieces are too shattered to be put together again, that he will slip through her fingers.

Her father says that Jacaerys’ birth lifted a veil of sadness that clung to her bones, that he saved her from her darkness, that Rhaenyra was a new person after becoming a mother and he is not exactly wrong, Jace was a light into her darkness yes, and she didn't know she could love as fiercely as she did when she held him in her arms for the first time and realized she would do anything for that little babe, but Jace was the end of a road, he was a result of her healing, he was the proof that Rhaenyra could open her heart, that she could love and allow herself to be loved.

It was Laenor, who was saved by Jace’s birth.

It was him who began healing only when a tiny and fragile babe with tuffs of dark hair on his head, a babe he knew didn't share his blood, was put on his arms and immediately stopped crying.

Laenor healed slowly, on the little things first, and it took him much longer to open his heart to another than it took Rhaenyra, nursing his loss and grieving in private.

Rhaenyra had liked Ser Qarl, he was a good man and mostly important he made Laenor smile, he took the burden from his shoulders, he helped him open his scarred heart and held it with care, nurtured it as it deserved, offered her husband a balm to his soul and never demanded more than he could give. He had been an almost friend, an ally in helping sooth Laenor’s sadness, a shoulder for him to rely on when he didn’t want or couldn’t rely on Rhaenyra.

The way Laenor looks and speaks now tells her that this was more than a simple ‘until we meet again’, that something has shifted, something much more permanent.

“We have our duties.” Laenor hums, the sad curl of his smile a pang in her heart. “And mine requires me to focus on what is important right now, on our children, all of them.”

“Your happiness is important.” Rhaenyra states, a fact she has always believed wholly in

“And yet I would, and will, sacrifice it for our family without a moment of hesitation.” Laenor replies, with an easy smile still on his face “I know I am not the husband you wished, that I could not give you what you needed Nyra, that I have failed you many times, and I can only hope to make up for it in any way I can.”

“Stop that.” She hisses, moving to grasp his hand in hers and squeeze “Stop with this nonsense. I did not wish to wed you, that is true, as you did not wish to wed me, but you are my dearest friend Laenor, you stayed at my side when I needed it the most, you have loved our children since the moment they started to exist and that is so much more than I could have asked of any other man. You are my husband and you will be my Consort when the time comes and you will be happy Laenor Velaryon.”

Laenor laughs, a startled sort of laughter with fondness taking hold of his face as he moves to hug her, her own arms easily accommodating his frame as they both allow themselves to just exist in this moment, to breathe into each other. When Laenor speaks his voice is soft, but full of determination.

“You are my wife and you will be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms when the time comes, and you will be happy Rhaenyra Targaryen.”

Chapter 20

Chapter Text

Daeron pushes the carrots around his plate, grimacing slightly at them. He doesn’t like steamed carrots, doesn’t like how they feel soft in his mouth, how flavorless they are like this, he likes his carrots raw and with salt, cut into circles, he would eat nothing but them during his meal if he could.

Uncle Gwayne knows how he likes his carrots.

It’s not fair, he thinks, that his uncle is not here.

Mother had invited him to eat with her, a meal between family, she had said with that smile of hers that looked very soft but also out of place in her face, like she wasn’t really sure how to keep it in place, her hands reaching to hold his face as she has done often since his arrival like she is trying to memorize his face, and Daeron had accepted of course, but imagine his surprise when he arrived at her chambers for their meal and found only she and grandfather already waiting for him, no signal of uncle and no plate to indicate he would join them.

Daeron can’t lie that it soured his mood greatly to realize it.

He is used to taking most of his meals with his uncle, it’s one of his favorites moments where they can just talk about whatever they want without anyone bothering them, uncle listening to all he has to say about his lessons or about Tessarion or any fact he learned in a book, talking about his own day, retelling some story of his youth or creating one just to make him smile.

His meals with uncle are filled with laughter and conversation.

Meals with his mother, however, are not. They had prayed as soon as he sat on the table, not something he usually does unless it’s an official dinner with Lord Hightower, and after that when Daeron tried to talk about his impressions of the Red Keep mother had cut him off, insisting he eats first, filling his plate for him and ignoring his protests about the carrots.

It’s annoying, especially because the rule of not talking while eating doesn’t apply to her or grandfather as they start talking immediately after telling him to be quiet, talking to him about the Red Keep and his father, mother looking apologetic as she explained he was too busy with matters of the realm to join them, but that he is of course very happy to have Daeron back home.

And Daeron may be a kid but he is not stupid and he knows his mother is lying. If his father was happy he would have come to see him, maybe even ask how he is, but he had not caught a single glimpse of the man since his arrival and neither has he spoken to him while being in Oldtown.

His father doesn’t care about him or his siblings, Aegon had explained it to him in a letter when Daeron had asked if the man missed him, he only cares about his stupid model of Valyria and his firstborn daughter.

But that is alright with Daeron, he doesn’t see why he should care about a father who is too busy being king, building toys of a long dead kingdom and caring about his first born daughter to be a father to him or his siblings, doesn’t get why mother tries to reassure him of the man’s love in her every letter and now in their every conversation, why should he care about that man when he has uncle Gwayne?

Daeron only feels sorry for his siblings, because it must be hard having a father who doesn’t like you and not having uncle Gwayne either. But that’s alright, Daeron is very good at sharing and he is more than willing to share uncle Gwayne with his siblings, he knows that the man has more than enough love for all of them.

It will be good, he thinks nodding to himself, to have both his siblings and his uncle at his side, that is all that he wants, so he dares to ask when their voices fall silent.

“When are my siblings coming back?”

He wants them. Uncle reassured him that they love him and Daeron wants to believe him, does believe him, but still, he wants to hug Aegon, wants to talk about books with Aemond, wants to listen to Helaena talk about her new bugs, wants to feel like he belongs somewhere, like he matters to someone other than uncle who while he knows loves him deeply, cannot be with him all the time. Daeron is lonely and he wants his family.

“We don’t know.” His mother’s face closes off, her grip on the knife tightening as her lips press themselves into a fine line “Rhaenyra is keeping them hostage in Dragonstone.”

“Hostage?” Daeron frowns, because that is not what he heard from uncle “Are they in danger?”

“Of course they are.” Mother scoffs, shaking her head as if his question is stupid and Daeron recoils at her tone “They are alone with a woman so cruel she would disfigure your brother just to sent a message, our only comfort is that her rabid lap dog is here, rather than at her side.”

“Princess Rhaenyra is a danger to the realm, Daeron.” Grandfather says, voice much more calm and eyes burrowing themselves into him “But especially she is a danger to you and your siblings. They have been foolishly allowing her to charm them and they have paid the price, Aemond has lost an eye and almost died at her hands and now they are in her domain and she refuses to have them sent home.”

“Uncle said we don't know who hurt Aemond.”

And uncle Gwayne has never lied to him, not once, not even when the truth was something that would make him sad. He spoke the truth and helped Daeron deal with it afterwards, he has never lied to him and he doubts he would start now, especially about something as serious as his own brother being injured.

If the oldest sister he doesn’t even remember was such a danger, uncle would have told him, would have warned him to pay attention, to be careful, the same way he has said about some of the maesters. The same way he instructed Daeron to never be alone with grandfather, to look for him if the older man ever tried to hurt him.

If uncle said that about his own father, surely he would say something about his sister, someone uncle doesn’t even know well.

“Your uncle is a foolish man.” Grandfather says, sighing and sounding so long suffering “That refuses to see the truth when it’s plainly on his face. Who else but the whor* of Dragonstone would order such a foul attack on your brother?”

Daeron frowns at his plate, biting his lip to not say something mean back to his grandfather.

He doesn’t like it when grandfather does that. When he speaks about uncle Gwayne like he is stupid, like he doesn’t know or understands things just because he doesn’t agree with how grandfather wants things done.

Uncle is not like grandfather, he is not as intelligent as him, doesn’t get politics and neither cares for it, but uncle is clever. He is sharp tongued, and he is good with horses and with his sword, he watches people and understands them so much better than anyone else that Daeron knows, able to predict what they are going to do, to know what they are feeling even when they don’t say it, uncle is a better teacher than any of the maesters grandfather and Lord Hightower have sent to him, he makes any lesson easy to understand and interesting to listen to, even the boring ones Daeron doesn’t care about are made fun by uncle Gwayne.

Indignation burns in his chest and Daeron has to bite his lips really hard to not say anything. Grandfather doesn’t like it, when anyone talks back to him and always gets very angry when Daeron does it, he had never punished him over it, because uncle has never allowed it, but he knows that it leads to arguments between the two, arguments that sometimes leave uncle Gwayne with his cheek red or with a cut on his face or lip that he refuses to talk about, only smiling and messing with his hair when Daeron asks.

Daeron looks at his mother, expecting her to say something, to defend uncle like he always defends her when grandfather is being mean about her, but mother just sighs herself, shaking her head, completely silent as she drinks and when she speaks they are not the words he wanted to hear.

“You are so young my son.” Her eyes are sad, but there is something ugly on her voice, on the way her lips curl in disgust “You don't understand the poison Rhaenyra and her bastards have been spreading to your siblings, how cruel those people can be and Gwayne thinks he is doing you a favor by shielding you from their ugliness, but that is a mistake I will not repeat. Listen, and listen well Daeron, Rhaenyra is a danger to you and your siblings and anyone who tells you otherwise is a fool or wants you dead.”

Daeron doesn’t think he likes his grandfather very much and he is quickly realizing that maybe he doesn’t like his mother that much either.

The young prince stares at his plate and the stupid carrots he didn’t want in the first place, willing the time to pass faster, willing his mother to tire of his presence and send him away, since she is so good at doing that.

He wants his uncle.

“Who is that?” Daeron asks, stopping in his tracks, tugging at Gwayne’s clothes

Following his gaze it’s not hard to know who he is referring to. Daemon Targaryen stands out in the middle of the gold cloaks he is casually talking to, not only because of his coloring, all pale silver and vibrant lilac, but because his smile is all teeth, a predator’s show of mirth while surrounded by lambs, but he is casual, an arm thrown around the shoulders of a man Gwayne doesn’t know and laughter rings by the halls coming from all of them, one of the men apparently telling a funny story.

“Your less pretty uncle.” He answers, smiling lightly at the boy, “That’s Daemon Targaryen, your father’s brother.”

“Is that the man who will kill me?” Daeron asks, eyebrows furrowed and grip on his shirt tightening

“What the f*ck?” Gwayne turns to him so fast he feels a sharp pain on his neck, eyes wide as he stares at his nephew “Daeron, what?”

“That’s what mother said.” His nephew insists, eyes downcast “That Prince Daemon is a bad man, and he will kill me and my siblings, and I must stay away from him at all costs.”

Gwayne doesn't know whose head he wants to bang against a wall- His own, his father's or his sister's.

Phenomenal parenting right there, telling a boy of seven name days that his own uncle will murder him and his family, having him fear walking the halls of his own f*cking home. Absolutely brilliant, Gwayne doesn’t even want to think about the sh*tshow this could turn to if the wrong people hear Daeron talking about this, if his father wants to keep his plans of usurpation, oh sorry, of righting the King’s wrong choice and restoring Aegon’s birthright then maybe he should consider not talking about treason to kids too young to know the importance of keeping a secret.

He can almost picture it, a childish fight between the boys and their nephews turning ugly and kids, as they are so prone to doing, throwing the treacherous words with the aim to hurt, without understanding what they were doing, and causing the castle of cards around them to crumple. f*cking ironic, if not tragic, that it could very well lead to the fate of having the children, and them, killed as they fear so much.

“f*cking f*ck.” He whispers to himself, fighting the urge to bang his head on the wall, he gently tugs Daeron until they are on a emptier part of the corridors, lowering himself into one knee “Listen, I can’t say that me and prince Daemon are on good terms or that he likes our side of the family very much, he hates your grandsire with a burning passion, but you are his kin and he has no reason to want you dead. Kinslaying is very much a sin, even for Daemon Targaryen.”

A wife killer, sure, and probably more than a bit bloodthirsty and petty enough to almost kill Gwayne just to prove a point to his father, but still. There is a difference between doing carnage in a war, or against the criminals of Fleabottom, and going out of his way to commit an act of kinslayer.

“But mother said…” Daeron frowns, worry so deep into his eyes that it tugs at his heart

“Your mother cares very much about all of you.” Gwayne starts, testing the words on his mouth “But that means that sometimes she sees danger where there is none, to the point where she ends up making things worse than they should be. She is scared of what Prince Daemon can do, and he is a dangerous man to have as an enemy, but he has never done anything to either you or your siblings, in fact Helaena talked about him in her last letter didn’t she?”

“She told me he was funny.” Daeron nods, losing some of the tension on his shoulders “That he caught a beetle for her after he accidentally released the butterfly she was studying.”

“That doesn’t look like a man who will put you to the sword does it?”

He could, in the future. Daemon Targaryen is not a easy man to predict, a harder one to trust in his humble opinion, and while his sister considers him Princess Rhaenyra’s maniac lap dog, Gwayne is quite pleased that he seems infatuated with the woman, for what he knows of her she is level headed and not prone to violence, surely that means she could keep said lap dog contained. He can’t trust Daemon to not kill his nephews, not yet, but he thinks he can trust Princess Rhaenyra to stop him from doing so, at least for now.

The future is muddy waters, he can’t know how well the woman would take to his family’s usurpation of her throne, if she would find in herself to be merciful towards her half siblings or if she would truly see them put to the sword for treason.

Because if his father has his way there will be a usurpation, long before the Crown Princess can even think about putting a crown over her head.

“But Helaena is a girl.” Daeron argues “She isn’t a threat to the throne, I am.”

“No, you are not.” Gwayne shakes his head “No, Daeron look at me, if you don’t want to be a threat to your sister’s claim then you aren’t one. If you bend the knee to her when the time comes, what can anyone else do? You will be loyal and not a threat, there will be no reason to kill you.”

It’s not quite that simple, but Gwayne is not going to burden a child with the intricacies of politics and the lords of the realm’s issues with a woman telling them what to do. For now all he needs is for Daeron to not be consumed by the paranoia that Alicent seems to have cloaked herself in and wants to push into her children.

“I don’t want to be king.” His boy says, full of determination “That throne looks ugly and uncomfortable. I want to be a knight who sings songs.”

“Then a knight who sings songs you will be.” Gwayne smiles at him, messing up with his hair “What do you think about meeting your uncle Daemon? To see if he is really that scary?”

“You will be with me?”

“Always, Daeron.”

The boy looks at him for a few seconds before nodding, face full of bravery and Gwayne chuckles, getting to his feet and offering his hand to him.

“Come, we can talk to him after your visit to Tessarion, your girl must be missing you.”

Gwayne remembers when Daeron first arrived at Oldtown, only a boy of five name days who didn't understand why he was there, why he was suddenly alone in a strange place surrounded by people he had never met, he wanted his home, cried for his mother and siblings the whole time.

His father never liked tears.

Daeron probably doesn't remember it, but the memory is sealed in his brain like it was branded there with hot iron. Daeron, so very small, crying at the dinner table, unwilling to eat this new food in this new table with those new people, he wasn't even loud, his tears were near silent save for the eventual sob, he never screamed, never threw a tantrum, he merely cried.

He will never forget the sound of his father's hand connecting with a small cheek, of the red that immediately took hold of the pale skin as Daeron looked at his own grandfather with wide eyes and trembling lips.

His father's voice, cold and harsh and demanding, telling him to stop those unbecoming tears, his eyes holding a promise of “or else.”. How Daeron lowered his head, a statue of a child until he was dismissed, barely breathing, biting his lips so hard they were bloody, his nails digging into his palms to swallow back the tears.

This is wrong.

That was all that Gwayne could think after it happened, nausea taking hold of his being until he was unable to even hold his own fork let alone eat anything else, looking at his nephew and then at his father, who continued eating as if nothing had happened.

And it's not like Gwayne wasn't familiar with his father's hands, gods knew he had received his fair share of slaps, but looking at Daeron, so small, so very fragile, only a little boy missing his mother, with a handprint on his chubby cheek made him sick, made him realize his father was wrong.

He tried to picture Daeron in some of the scenarios of his own youth and it nearly made him gag.

It was during that dinner, on perhaps the third night Daeron was in Oldtown, that Gwayne decided he would protect that boy from anyone who would hurt him, his own father at the very top of this list. He couldn’t protect his other nephews, could only hope Alicent was doing a better job with them than Otto had done with her, but Daeron was right there and Gwayne would not allow that boy to be destroyed for the sake of a throne that no one but his father had any interest in.

Protecting Daeron, it seems, also means helping him bond with his Targaryen side of the family, even if just to endear him to them so that they don’t consider killing him as a viable plan of action.

Gwayne is pretty sure he didn’t sign up for any of this, but alas, this is his life now, has been since that dinner.

Hopefully, Daemon Targaryen is not going to kill him on sight.

“I think you should go.” Harwin insists again, arms crossed in front of his chest “It would not hurt in the slightest.”

“I’m busy.” Daemon replies, gesturing to the contents of his desk, scattered papers with no visible order to them even if the prince seems to find anything he wants easily enough “I came here for a reason, and that reason is not playing nice with a brat.”

“The brat is your nephew, my prince.” Harwin comments unimpressed “And I was under the impression that making sure that Otto Hightower doesn’t spread his poison towards him was more important than to follow dead ends about a dead guard, it’s been weeks and you are no closer to discovering who could have hired the man to attack the prince.”

“I know more than I did before coming, I know he was indicated to his position by someone who works in the Red Keep and he was guarding the Black Cells before being suddenly transferred to accompany the king to Driftmark. Otto wasn’t here when he was hired, so it means he has allies we don’t know about.”

“And that is something we could deduce, and as important as it is to know who we can and cannot trust, I think it more important to make sure the young prince remains unharmed.”

“What are you even doing here, anyway? Don’t you have anyone else to bother?”

“This is my office.”

“Look, the kid is always with his f*cking uncle, how I can even get close to him, let alone hold a conversation? I don’t want Otto’s spawn acting like I’m the devil in front of the kid and making it worse.”

“You are his uncle and a prince of the realm.” Harwin resists the urge to roll his eyes “You can order Ser Gwayne to leave. If you allow me the audacity, my prince, it almost seems like you are afraid of talking with the boy.”

“No I do not f*cking allow you the audacity.” Daemon replies, eyes burning with fury “I am not afraid of a kid who still wets his bed at night!”

“Then go to the Dragon Pit and talk to him. It’s what Rhaenyra would want.”

“f*cking gods, you are insufferable.” Daemon bites out, angrily pushing himself off the chair and stalking out of the office

Harwin stays behind to laugh before masking his mirth and following after the prince with a neutral expression, easily catching up to the man who gives him a hard look but doesn't protest his presence. He knows the prince is not scared, there isn’t perhaps anything short of the death of his family that does scare the man, but the mention of it as a possibility is enough to unsettle him enough to stop stalling the meeting with the boy.

They have grown… close, during the prince’s time in the Red Keep, mostly because they are the only ones they can trust to have Rhaenyra’s best interest at heart and Daemon was right, conspiring to kill Criston Cole did serve to break down the barriers between them. It helps that Daemon Targaryen is not a man who fades to the background or lets go of things and he seems very keen on having Harwin by his side.

He doesn’t mind it truly, it’s a welcome distraction from the emptiness of the loss of his father and the cold distance of his brother.

He and Larys were never close even if they were close in age, it always seemed like their schedules never aligned properly, Harwin spending much of his time practicing with his weapons or horse riding, lessons his brother could never partake in, he was always a scholar, for necessity or for genuine taste Harwin has never known, with his nose buried into a book or fading into the shadows to listen to people, always knowing so much about the world around him. Water and wine, they have been described by others, different in every aspect of their lives.

Yet, Harwin holds genuine affection for his little brother, has done everything he could to erase the burden placed on his shoulders, to crush the mean spirited murmurs that have followed Larys since his birth, but nothing seems enough, like there is a barrier between the two of them, something he cannot break down no matter how hard he tries.

It has grown worse since the death of their father, as if the last tie between the two of them has been cut, Larys didn’t even attend the funeral, choosing to remain in the Capitol while Harwin made the journey alone. It was not easy, the relationship between his brother and father, one would have to be blind to not see the bitterness and estrangement that coated their every interaction, his father was a good man, but he was too stuck with grief when Larys was a boy and then too awkward, too unsure of how to act with the son he ignored, the deformed boy he could do nothing to help to mend the distance, so Harwin didn’t expect his brother to grieve as he does, but still.

The coldness is unsettling, the distance between them an abyss as Larys melts into the shadows and cloaks himself with his allies, Harwin has barely seen him since their father took his last breath.

The time spent with the prince is a welcome reprieve of his grief, Daemon Targaryen is a storm of a man and Harwin understands why Rhaenyra was so fascinated by him, why his departure broke her heart for so very long, this is a man who carves a space for himself into the hearts of the people around him, uncaring about the damage he may leave behind.

Without the presence of Rhaenyra, Laenor and their children the Dragon Pit is nearly empty, two lone Dragonkeepers are standing in one of the corners of the entry, silent as they always seem to be to Harwin.

It’s pretty hard to not see the youngest prince as he stands with his dragon, it’s the first good look Harwin has at him. The boy is young, just as tall as Luke, which means not tall at all, with chubby rosy cheeks, his silver hair is a tad darker than of his siblings and shorter as well, barely reaching his shoulders and pin straight, his skin is pale and his eyes a soft lavender color, he is clad into blue clothing that is a perfect match to the scales of the dragon he is petting.

The dragon is small, perhaps the size of a horse or just a tad bigger, with shiny blue scales and copper details in her claws, chest and belly. The dragon will look magnificent when it’s grown, Harwin has been around them time enough to recognize the beauty of those beings and the dragon of the young prince is a beauty.

Docile as well, if the way the dragon tilts her head for scratches around her neck are any indication. At his side Daemon has frozen, as still as a statue, and it takes him half a second to realize why and his own eyebrows rise to his hairline.

He was so interested in the boy and his dragon he didn’t even pay attention to the other adult in the cave, Gwayne Hightower is relatively tall man, with red hair just shy of brushing his shoulders, and blue eyes so dark they may as well be gray, his face is alight with mirth, a smile on his lips as he gently caresses under the dragon’s chin, cooing softly.

Now, that is not something he ever expected to see.

Queen Alicent can’t be caught dead even near one of the dragons, has not entered the Dragon Pit at all since the birth of her children as far as he is concerned, and by Daemon’s tales Otto Hightower has very little respect to dragons or any wish to be near any of them.

Harwin has petted dragons before, of course he has, you don’t have Targaryen children under your care without having to carry both a tired child and a hatchling around at least once and Rhaenyra has taken him to see Syrax often enough, the golden lady offering them privacy in moments of need, her wings hiding them from the world.

But this is different. Harwin is…. Well, Harwin, far too enmeshed with the Targaryens for his own good, he has never met anyone else willing to get this close let alone pet a dragon, even if a very young one.

“Well, well, this isn’t a scene I ever expected to see.” Daemon breaks the silence, unfreezing as he stalks forward, a parody of his usual smile on his face, Harwin stays back, watching “A Hightower this close to a dragon? My, my.”

Both uncle and nephew startle at the sudden voice jumping and looking in their direction, Daeron clings to his dragon and Gwayne’s hand goes to the pommel of his sword. It remains there, even when he recognizes who the voice belongs to.

The blue dragon just tilts her head, almost as if curious, nudging her still rider with her snout, a displeased chirp at his lack of petting.

“Prince Daemon.” There is tension on his shoulders as Ser Gwayne steps forward even if his smile is still firmly in place “What a pleasure to see you again.”

“Can’t say the same.” Daemon shrugs, he steps closer, still a respectable distance away from the young dragon, he leans forward, a lazy smile on his face as his eyes dance over the face of the man before him “Glad to see I didn’t ruin your pretty face on our last encounter.”

“Not as glad as me, I assure you.” There is a touch of laughter in his voice as well “How do you fare?”

“I just lost my wife.” It’s the deadpan answer

“So I have heard, my condolences.” For his credit the Hightower knight takes the statement in stride, not faltering for a second, his eyes leaving Daemon to look in his direction “My condolences to you as well, Lord Strong.”

Harwin would really want to know if the words are a mockery or not.

They don’t sound like it at least, there is something earnest in the man’s voice, almost hesitant, but Harwin does not know enough of him to know how true they are. Ser Gwayne has to know his family, his own father, is responsible for his loss, that his father was slaughtered in secret just so that Otto Hightower could take back the power that was once taken from him.

“Thank you, ser.” He settles for answering, as neutral as possible

“Where’s your dragon?” Comes a curious voice, breaking the tension between the adults

Prince Daeron steps forward as well, stopping at his uncle’s side, his head tilted to the side, strikingly similar to his dragon, and eyes focused on Daemon with all the innocence and curiosity of a Targaryen child who grew up on tales of dragons.

“We usually introduce ourselves to people first, Daeron.” Comes the amused reply from Ser Gwayne, his smile softer

“He knows who I am, and you told me who he is.” The boy huffs “You didn’t introduce yourself either.”

“Because I have already met the prince and Lord Strong before. Just because you know of someone doesn’t mean you shouldn’t introduce yourself when meeting them for the first time.”

“Fine.” Daeron nods and takes another step forward, giving them a perfect bow “It’s a pleasure to meet you both, I’m Daeron Targaryen.”

“It’s my pleasure, my prince, I am Harwin Strong.” He bows back at the boy, smiling back at him when he waves, and steps forward himself to give Daemon a subtle nudge

“And I, dear nephew, am your uncle, Daemon.” Daemon rolls his eyes at him before turning to the boy, a smile on the corner of his lips

“Good. Now where’s your dragon?”

Both Gwayne and Daemon laugh, and even Harwin can’t help but chuckle discreetly at the boy’s demanding question, he huffs again, pulling at his closest uncle's clothes when he doesn’t stop laughing at him.

Daemon stops laughing enough to whistle and a few seconds later there is a high pitched whistle in return and Caraxes is quickly to come to them from one of the many entrances to the pit, the red dragon much larger than the young prince’s mount and quite different looking as well, Harwin values his own life enough to never say the words out loud, but honestly Caraxes is very….. Unfortunate looking in comparison to other dragons with his long neck and strange shaped legs, almost as if someone who had never seen a dragon had tried to draw one based solely on some very bad descriptions.

“He’s quite ugly, isn’t he?” Ser Gwayne murmurs, far closer than Harwin expect, giving Caraxes a long look, eyebrows arched

“Caraxes is a seasoned dragon who has won many battles and defeated strong enemies.” He replies automatically, glowering at the man at his side

“You didn’t deny that he is ugly.”

“He is very unique.”

“If that is how you want to call it.”

Harwin just huffs, offended on the red dragon’s behalf even if he is not hypocrite enough to truly deny the statement, and gives ser Gwayne a dirty look that gets him a soft laugh in return, the man seems physically incapable of not looking amused at the world around him.

Luckily for both of their necks Daemon is too busy bumping his forehead against his dragon’s snout to pay attention to them, cooing to him in soft High Valyrian, just loud enough for the foreign words to travel to them and to Daeron who stands closer, eyes wide and amazed.

Harwin turns his head away from the scene, cleaning his throat to try to drown out the soft lull of the prince’s voice, sounding so very pleasing in his House’s ancestral tongue. At his side, Ser Gwayne just leans forward, as if wanting to hear it better and Harwin has the fleeting thought of pushing him, just to see if he would lose his balance and fall on his face.

He doesn’t of course, because unlike some people, he has some form of self control.

“You can approach now, if you want.” Daemon says after a few more moments of speaking to his dragon, turning to look at Daeron

The boy doesn’t need to be told twice of course, he approaches slowly and carefully, with precise movements that are easily followed by the dragon’s sharp gaze, but Caraxes remains still when the small hand makes contact with his scales, lowering himself more to the ground as if to allow for better access. Prince Daeron’s smile almost split his face open and at his side there is a quiet exhale from ser Gwayne and Harwin turns to him quick enough to see his shoulders loosening.

Not so carefree it seems.

“What are you talking to him?” Daeron asks, his movements soft and his gaze turned to his uncle

“You don’t know High Valyrian?” Daemon asks, arching an eyebrow “I was telling him who you are, and who the two fools back there are as well, so that he knew there is no danger.”

“I know some words that the Dragonkeeper taught me, to be able to command Tessarion.” Daeron shrugs “But you said a lot of words I never heard.”

“How do you communicate with your dragon if you don’t know their tongue?”

“I just speak in Common and try to make her feel what I feel.” The young prince says “Would she even understand, if I talked to her? I thought it was just like when we talked with horses.”

“Dragons are not horses.” Daemon makes a face of pure disgust as if the comparison sickens him. “They are their own beings with intelligence and emotions, much more complex than we can properly understand, of course she would understand you.”

“Oh” Daron frowns “You will have to teach me.”

“What?”

“You will have to teach me High Valyrian so I can talk to Tessarion.” Daeron explains, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world “I don’t want her to think I don’t want to talk to her, or that I find her stupid!”

“And why would I?”

“Because you are my uncle.” Daeron turns fully to the older prince now and he bites his lips before continuing, voice more hesitant “And you care about me because I’m your kin and you don’t want me hurt.”

Harwin sucks a breath, automatically looking at the man at his side. Ser Gwayne is still as a statue, and there is no smile on his face now, instead a blank mask coats his face and Harwin is not familiar enough with him to even know what it’s hiding.

It surprises him, as if very visibly surprises Daemon as well, to have this boy, raised in the viper’s den, this boy they all thought would have been poisoned even worse than his siblings to fear Rhaenyra and all of her side of the family, to have this much confiance in the fact that Daemon does not mean him harm. Someone has to be taught this boy that Daemon is not a monster to be feared and it sure as f*ck wasn’t Otto Hightower or the Queen.

Harwin gives another look at the man at his side, almost as if seeing him for the first time.

Now, this is something to look deeper into.

But Daemon finally unfreezes, an unreadable look on his face before it settles on something that can almost be called warm.

“You are a clever one aren’t you?” The Rogue Prince smiles at the boy, a hint of teeth. “Because you are right, I do suppose I have to teach you High Valyrian and also take you flying.”

“Flying?” Daeron’s eyes widen, amazed and so hopeful they shine “Are you serious?”

“Of course.” Daemon smiles even more “It’s tradition in our House, for the younglings to be taken on dragon back so that they can know the sky even before having their own dragons. I was not here to do the same for your siblings, but I’m here now, so what do you say?”

“Yes! Yes!” Daeron jumps, almost vibrating out of his skin “When?”

“Another day.” Daemon chuckles, moving his hand to mess with the kid’s hair “I have to find a suitable saddle first, I didn’t bring any with me that will allow for this sort of travel, but I’m sure I can find one here.”

“But it will be soon?”

“I will look into acquiring the saddle as soon as possible.” The man agrees “Now let’s introduce Caraxes to your Tessarion, he will enjoy having someone new to bother.”

Harwin watches, fascinated as any common man allowed this glimpse into this magic world of dragons and their riders as Daemon and Caraxes approach the smaller dragon, Tessarion makes a soft sound in the back of her neck but Daeron jumps forward to put a hand on her neck and murmur something soft to her, sounding encouraging and keeping himself at her side as the larger dragon approaches.

Caraxes, despiste his size and ferocity, seems to understand he is in the presence of a very young dragon, much more fragile than himself because he is gentle, gentler than Harwin ever expected such a dragon capable of being, as he curls himself partially around the younger dragon, who after sniffing him eagerly leans against his body, letting out happy chirping noises. Daeron watches amazed and smiling like the sun as his dragon settles herself against Caraxes, hypnotized by the vision and Daemon takes the moment to step back into their direction, the soft smile that was on his face replaced by something much sharper when he looks at Ser Gwayne.

“I assume it will not be a problem, either the lessons or the promised flight.” He doesn’t say it as a question, because since when does Daemon Targaryen asks permission for anything

“Not with me.” Ser Gwayne shrugs, the beginning of a smile looking strange on the still blank expression on his face “But you must know my father and sister will not be pleased.”

“That brings me nothing but joy.”

“The prince is merely pleased at the opportunity of sharing the culture of his House with his young nephew that is what brings him joy.” Harwin says, trying to give the silver haired man a subtle glare “Surely the Lord Hand will see the value of Prince Daeron being more capable of controlling his dragon.”

“Actually, it’s exactly pissing Otto off that brings me joy.” Daemon’s smile is all teeth, his eyes fixed on Gwayne “Your c*nt of a father can surely try, but those kids are of my blood and I will not let him poison them against the culture of their House.”

“So, are you really not going to harm him?” Gwayne asks subtly voice low enough to not carry to Daeron

“What the f*ck?” Daemon turns to look at him, mouth open at the boldness of the question, even Harwin is taken aback

“Look, I know you are not my father’s biggest supporter, which fair enough I completely understand, but Daeron has nothing to do with whatever bullsh*t he has ever done or plans on doing. He is just a boy.” The blue eyes are intense as they stare at both of them, all traces of mirth gone from his face “I know you have been hanging out with my other nephews and niece, Helaena has spoken highly of you, and I truly do want to believe it’s a genuine thing, but you can’t blame me for being cautious. So, are you going to kill him?”

“I think I understand why those brats are the way they are.” Daemon says drily “It’s in this f*cking side of the family’s blood to have absolutely no filter or good sense. Do you take me as a kinslayer?”

“I sure hope not.”

“Then keep your asshole father’s opinions on me to yourself and shove it up your ass. f*cking c*nt.” Daemon snarls at him, fire burning in his eyes as he stalks forward in the direction of Daeron, stopping to receive permission to approach, his hands slow and steady as it near Tessarion until it lands on her scales, gently petting the dragon even if his shoulders are shaking with repressed anger

“That is a no.” Harwin offers after a beat “He will not harm the young prince.”

Gwayne Hightower just tilts his head to the side, eyes wide and confused, mouth hanging open and there is something so f*cking ridiculous on both his expression and so absurd on the whole situation that Harwin can’t stop himself, he hides his face in his hands and he laughs so hard there are tears in his eyes.

When he finally manages to look up Gwayne has left him to stand close to Tessarion, with what can only be classified as a pout when he catches Harwin’s eyes, quickly turning away with a faint blush on his cheekbones, and Daemon is still ignoring both of them as he keeps petting his dragon with Prince Daeron glued to his side, his own small hand caressing the red scales both of them stuck into a lively conversation about a dragon’s diet.

Perhaps, Harwin dares to hope, things are not as bleak as he once feared.

Chapter 21

Chapter Text

Daemon is truly baffled about where those f*cking children keep coming from.

Daemon doesn't even f*cking like children. They are nosy, messy, fragile and they can burst your eardrums with their cries about the weirdest sh*t at the drop of a pin, they talk nonsense half of the time and annoy him to no end, not to mention how they cower away from him like he is a monster come to life most of the time.

He likes his daughters and that's it, no need to concern himself with any more snot faced gremlins.

At least that was what he thought until he arrived at Driftmark for his wife's funeral and saw himself surrounded by a herd of brats. Daemon would very much like to stand by the fact that he did not, in any way, shape or form, encourage the brats to cling to him, in fact he strongly discouraged them from doing so.

A fool’s errand when both Rhaenyra and Laenor gleefully pushed them in his direction, talking about Daemon like he isn't the monster of the Red Keep, Lord Fleabottom himself.

f*ckers.

And now he has a herd of brats he will torch this kingdom for, they only need to ask. Will do even worse, if one of them ever gets harmed. f*cking Rhaenyra’s kids being living breathing angels, and f*cking green kids being sad pathetic kittens, all of them in need of protecting so now Daemon is stuck caring for them alongside his lovely girls, all against his will.

And now this.

This new strange little brat he has never even seen before, who looks at him and smiles brightly, holds his hand like Daemon has not killed multiple men with them without even using a weapon, seeks his company easily, uncaring about the political tensions around him.

The worst part is that he can't even blame Rhaenyra and Laenor for this one.

He can however, he consoles himself, still blame Harwin and f*cking Gwayne Hightower.

The knight because he was the one who brought the kid's arrival to his attention and mentioned his visit to the Dragon Pit, and the Hightower f*ck because Daemon can't f*cking trust one of those f*ckers to care for a kid of his blood.

Not that the red haired man has done a bad job of raising the kid, Daemon will begrudgingly admit to himself, Daeron is much more a living breathing angel than sad pathetic kitten, talking to him with the curiosity and boldness of Rhaenyra’s kids rather than the cautious hope of his older siblings, boldly explaining that his uncle said that Daemon is not going to hurt him, so of course he will not, because ‘uncle Gwayne never lies!’.

Gwayne is…. not half as bad as Daemon thought a son of Otto would be, and so he has not harmed him in any way and allows him to tag along. His commentaries are even amusing, if he would admit it to himself, and he reminds him a bit of Laenor with his easy smiles and tendency to touch anyone who breaths too close to him, Daemon almost jumped out of his skin the first time the man held his arm to call his attention to something, but if the Hightower notices the murderous look in his eyes he pretends not to.

He can see where Daeron got his personality from.

Nyra will be happy, that f*cking Otto didn't manage to get his claws into this kid even when he was living with him.

Quite pathetic, if you ask Daemon, that he couldn’t poison even the kid that is stuck with him and it brings him no small amount of joy seeing the absolutely pinched expression on the c*nt’s face when he sees them walking the halls or doing anything together. Not to mention the queen, who Daemon is half sure is one mental break away from trying to claw his eyes out.

He makes a point to throw an arm around Daeron every time he sees her glaring daggers at him. Feels himself glowing when Daeron clings back to him, seeking his company with a smile and a shout of his name that could wake the dead.

He gets Rhaenyra now, it's f*cking satisfying to steal the kids from those f*ckers.

“Uncle Daemon!”

The voice screams from behind and Daemon turns, already smiling, to see Daeron running in his direction, holding his Hightower uncle’s hand in a vice grip, waving at him. The boy skips until he is in front of him, his fringe falling over his eyes as he smiles at him.

“Hi!” He leans sideways to wave at Harwin as well “Hi uncle Lord Strong!”

“Hello prince Daeron.” Harwin bows at him, exasperated and embarrassed all at once “But I must remind you that I’m not your uncle, my prince.”

“But I like you.” Daeron says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world, like he has not known Harwin for less than a fortnight “And Lord Hightower is not my uncle either, but everyone told me I should call him like that, I don’t see why I can’t call you uncle when I like you much more.”

“Because Lord Hightower is your kin, my prince.” The man explains gently, even if there is a hint of amusem*nt in his face “You share blood with him, but I am simply a guard under the employment of your family.”

Daemon snickers at that last part and even Gwayne hides a snort with a very obviously fake cough, the Targaryen prince catches the blue eyes of the other man who arches his eyebrows and it irks him to his bone to see that this enemy of them is so very well aware that Harwin is much more than a simply guard.

Daeron puffs his already prominent cheeks, the kid is part chipmunk in Daemon’s professional opinion, and crosses his arms, the very picture of stubbornness. But before he can open his mouth, probably to insult another member of his mother’s family or say something that is borderline treason, the Hightower pats him in the head, silencing him.

“Don’t even try, Lord Strong.” There is a smile playing on his lips “I am quite afraid that Daeron has adopted you as an uncle and there is nothing that can be done.”

“It would be a great offense to deny a Targaryen prince what he wants.” Daemons says, smiling at the knight, greatly enjoying the situation

“Are you speaking about him or you?” Harwin mumbles, low but they are close enough for the Hightower to hear and snicker, louder he continues “If that is what pleases you, my prince.”

“It is!” Daeron nods emphatically, and then turns to his new shiny uncle “Are we going to learn new words today?”

Ever since that first meeting in the Dragon Pit, Daemon has taken to teaching Daeron High Valyrian, the kid is not clueless on the language, he knows the barebones of the simply words and has a butchered version of the pronunciation, but it’s very obvious that probably no one at Oldtown had prioritized teaching him the language even if many maesters are fluent in it, and Daemon is not just going to allow a nephew of his to be uneducated in their mother tongue.

“I think you are ready for us to start with some short phrases.” Daemon says to him “You know more than enough vocabulary to advance in our lessons.”

“Great!” Daeron skips to his side, taking his hand and starting the walk to the library where they are doing their daily lessons, pulling the older prince with him

Daemon allows himself to be pulled by the boy, listening with attention as he describes his, very boring in his own opinion, previous lessons the subjects and how the maester didn’t let him read any fun book in High Valyrian, occasionally turning to look behind himself to see if both Harwin and his other uncle are sufficiently moved by his tragedy as well.

Daemon smiles to himself.

Rhaenyra is going to be so jealous he has managed to steal this kid first.

From a short distance, acting as chaperones, as if Daemon is the type of man who would break the neck of his own nephew in broad daylight, Lord Harwin Strong and Ser Gwayne Hightower stand guard at the library, the gold cloak as protector, the knight as his father’s pawn and spy, instructed to keep this meeting as short as possible, to report anything said, to whisk Daeron away the second it looks like Daemon is sinking his claws on the boy.

Well, though f*cking luck, Gwayne thinks to himself, because that boat sailed the moment prince Daemon allowed Daeron to pet his dragon and promised to take him flying.

His nephew is absolutely fascinated with this man he has never been allowed to meet, this first true link to his Targaryen heritage and as much as Gwayne feels a pang of jealousy at the fact that he will have to share his position of uncle with Daemon Targaryen of all people, he also knows that there are things he simply can’t teach his nephew, the proper care of his dragons and the right commands to use the first among them.

Father should know better, since when does Gwayne truly follow his orders to the letter? He will report about this later, about how Prince Daemon spent an afternoon teaching Daeron how to pronounce commands and simple phrases to communicate with Tessarion, but he sees no reason to cut it short, not when the man is no danger to his nephew.

If he wanted Daeron to be loyal to him, maybe he should f*cking talk to him, should treat the boy with patience and kindness, should show him love and care, as any grandfather should show to their grandson. Not pawn him off to Gwayne and maesters, only interacting with him when he wanted to see if his training was going along like he expected.

The red haired man gives one look at the knight at his side, posture perfect, a hand resting on the pommel of his sword as if he is truly working rather than just killing time with them, rather than being an statement- The choice of guard from Prince Daemon was not a coincidence, the same way father appointing Gwayne to act as Daeron’s protector was a message and a way of asserting himself, Daemon Targaryen, the Rogue Prince himself, a seasoned warrior capable of facing an army by himself, has to have his reasons to suddenly accept a guard to accompany him, this guard especially.

Oh, his father would have a field day if Gwayne shared this little bit of information with him, the Rogue Prince allying himself with the father of the princess’ children? That is huge.

But Gwayne was not instructed to report anything about this, only about the interactions between the prince and his nephew, so he sees no reason to share it at all. Father has other spies, he will learn about it soon enough.

“I don’t care, you know.” Gwayne says suddenly looking at Harwin straight on “About the color of the hair of the young princes.”

“That’s good to know, ser.” Harwin says, drily, giving him a look of warning “I do argue there are many more important things to worry about.”

“You know what I mean.” The man huffs, rolling his eyes “You are not stupid enough to not know that I know. It is very painfully obvious.”

“I don’t think I follow what you mean.”

“Listen, I will not commit treason by saying the words because I am not sure you would not beat my face in, and I don’t think it would heal just the same a second time and I quite like my face as it is, but you know what I mean.” He gives the captain a long look, still arching his eyebrows but the dark haired man just clenches his jaw even tighter “I’m just saying that while my father and sister do seem awfully worried about the hair color of the princess’ children, I don’t really care about it that much, I don’t think it’s that big of a deal if her husband is not that bothered by it.”

“The princess’ lord husband is the father of the young princes.” It’s the clipped answer he receives “Their only concern is about the safety and health of the children they love dearly and will one day inherit the seats of both of their Houses.”

“Oh, sure, whatever you say.” Gwayne shrugs, bravely resisting the urge to roll his eyes “I too care about my family, Lord Strong, and I want what’s best for them, and that means I simply do not want my nephews to be put to the sword for the crime of being born with a dick and silver hair.”

“You don’t know the princess.” Is the answer he receives, the man still giving him a hard look “She has the biggest heart of anyone I have ever met and she has come to love her siblings dearly in a very short amount of time. I do not know what slander you have heard about her honor, Ser Gwayne, but the young princes and princess will find no safer place than by her side.”

“And yet my nephew almost died and lost an eye under her care.”

“She would never lay a finger on a child.” There is a sharper edge to his voice, a clenching of his fists that spells that Gwayne is very close to get a punch for his troubles “Or order anyone to do so. The same cannot be said about those who conspire against her, those who have worked tirelessly to taint her reputation and her claim.”

“Listen, my father is a c*nt, but he wouldn’t.” Gwayne shakes his head “Not this, not when it would only push them further away from him, it’s not his style.”

“I never said anything about the Lord Hand.” Harwin says, shoulder even more tense “I would never dare to imply such things about the man the King trusts with the second most powerful position of the realm.”

“I am not a stupid man, Lord Strong” Gwayne laughs, shaking his head “And my father has not been very silent about his ambitions, I doubt anyone who has spent so much time in the company of the princess has not been privy about it. No need to mind your words about him in my presence, I am sure I have said way worse.”

“Princess Rhaenyra would never do such a thing as harm her kin.” It’s the statement he receives, the man’s gaze unflinching “She loves her siblings, and they have come to love her just as dearly if I can be as bold to say so.”

Oh, this is a man in love alright. Gwayne smiles to himself, amused beyond himself at how easy this conclusion comes to him, his father would have a field day with this. Gwayne could twist this into a masterpiece himself of course, he could push just right to make this man lose his composure, it probably wouldn’t take much, just a well aimed but subtle insult to the princess’ intentions with his nephews, something he could easily twist into worry about his nephews in the company of someone he is not familiar with later when questioned about the situation, and he would push this man into acting before his brain could catch up to his fists.

It would be f*cking painful of course, he would no doubt end up with more than a few broken bones, but it would be more than enough not only to give strength to the rumours about the legitimacy of the younger princes but also would be a valid justification to have Lord Strong stripped of his gold cloak and send back to Harrenhal and it’s cursed fame. Many accidents can happen in such an old and decrepit castle.

His father would think it a worthy price to be paid, broken bones for a victory against their enemies, would probably even praise Gwayne for his quick thinking, give him one of his rare smiles that never reach his eyes.

Instead Gwayne just smiles, larger, showing teeth, eyes leaving the taller man at this side to look at where Daemon is still sitting with his nephew pointing something at the High Valyrian book, Daeron with a frown of concentration mumbling something to himself, and it soften something inside of him, allows him to relax his shoulders.

“I suppose I can only hope her love will extend to Daeron as well.”

“It already has.”

“They don’t even know each other.”

“But the princes and the princess love him, that is more than enough for Princess Rhaenyra. You will understand it, when you see them together.” Comes the easy reply, the man’s eyes burrowing into his’ “You say I do not have to mind my words about your father with you, Ser Gwayne, so allow me to be frank, I do not know what type of education Prince Daeron has been given in Oldtown, but if it was anything close to what has been done to the princes here, under the orders and hands of your lord father and those loyal to him, then I feel sorry this boy as much as I felt sorry for prince Aemond when he broke down in tears in his sister’s arms with his bruised cheek still hot to the touch.”

Gwayne can only close his eyes and resists the urge to do something stupid like scream or punch a wall.

Of course.

Of f*cking course.

He should have know, he should have know that his father would find ways to f*ck with his grandchildren the same way he f*cked his children, Otto Hightower has never seen a child he has not tried to break after all, just for the pleasure of rebuilding the broken pieces in a image that he finds more pleasing.

But Gwayne had tried to ignore the signals, he had tried so hard to think that surely it wouldn’t be as bad, that his father would never dare do against the royal children the same he had done to him. He has tried to convince himself that Alicent would never allow her children to suffer the same fate she watched fall into him in their youth, that she would shield them from the bruises and the harsh words Gwayne was so familiar with, that she witnessed, the same conditional love that he dangled over her face, the affection he made her earn with her obedience.

What a f*cking fool, to think that distance would stop his father from trying to shape his nephews and niece into the nice little pieces he wanted to manipulate in the board.

“I would never allow it.” He says after long moments, eyes still closed as he pushes down his anger, feeling almost desperate to make it known “For him to hurt Daeron. He has never laid a hand on him.”

“And Rhaenyra will never allow him to lay another hand on her siblings either.”

Maybe it’s time for a little wardrobe change, Gwayne thinks watching as the man his father calls Maegor reborn teaches his nephew another language with all the patience of the world, Daeron smiling proudly at his own progress as he uses his finger to trace a word, mumbling to himself, Daemon’s eyes shining with mirth and something Gwayne can only describe as pride, his arm casually thrown in the back of his nephew’s chair.

He smiles to himself, picturing his father’s face if he were to ever show up in his presence, or even better yet, in a public feast or even the training yards, dressed from head to toe in black, a statement that would scream loudly to anyone who pays attention to politics. At his side Harwin Strong gives him a strange look but Gwayne can only smile back at him, deeply amused when the man only shakes his head and turns to stare at the two Targaryens.

Daeron turns his head back, just enough to give Gwayne a bright smile, eyes shining and he waves at the boy, his own smile firmly in place.

Maybe green truly isn’t his color after all.

“I think we should all go to Dragonstone.” Daemon comments looking very much like he is seriously considering the idea “We can take a small ship, wouldn't be as quick as flying but would get us there fast enough.”

“No.” Harwin says immediately

“I don't think my father would approve of that, my sister even less.” Gwayne laughs at the absurdity of the suggestion “They are losing their minds with you talking to Daeron, they would probably hang me if I allowed you to take him away.”

“And since when do I give a f*ck about what your c*nt of a father thinks?” Daemon arches an eyebrow “And you could come along, you are not half as bad, for being a Hightower.”

“We are not kidnapping the prince.” Harwin insists, looking severely at Daemon “Because it would be kidnapping and then me and Gwayne would be executed and you would be exiled again. Do you want to be exiled again?”

“I don't want to be executed.”

“He's my nephew.” Daemon rolls his eyes, a dismissive gesture of his hand “It would be taking him to visit his ancestral home and reconnect with his siblings.”

“Who my sister also thinks you have kidnapped and brainwashed.”

“I would be taking a knight to protect him, and the other uncle who came with him.” Daemon continues as if he didn't hear anything, gesturing at them both “Viserys likes this bullsh*t thing of bringing the family back together, he wouldn't be mad if I warned him after we left and he could deal with the c*nt and his wife.”

“Good, then me and Gwayne will only mysteriously die within a week of our return.”

“My father would make it look like an accident.” The red haired man confirms “Or natural causes.”

“As he did with my father, in case you have forgotten, my prince.”

“Not if we kill him before coming back. I can have someone slit his throat and pay very little for it.”

“Would Nyra approve of this plan?” Harwin arches an eyebrow, but before Daemon can open his mouth he hurries to correct “Better yet, would Laenor approve of this plan?”

“Spoilsport.”

Chapter 22

Chapter Text

“Why did I have to bring clothes?” Daeron frowns, holding into his travel bag that Daemon helped him pack “Aren't we just going to go flying?”

It was a pain helping the kid pack, almost all of his clothes had been in different shades of green and Daemon refuses on principle to have that ugly ass color entering their ancient home, in the end he had packed what little clothing of other colors he could find and some books Daeron expressed interest in reading during their lessons. They can easily get him more things after their arrival and make do with what they have in the meantime, Daeron is as tall as Luke after all.

“We will, but I will take you somewhere nice this time, and we will be there for a while.” He grins, almost vibrating with excitement

Daemon is not a stupid man.

He understands very well what he is doing, the consequences of his actions, and this is not an act of reckless impulsivity. Daemon has carefully planned every step of this whole situation.

It's not the first time he has taken Daeron flying, after mildly terrorizing some people he had managed to get a saddle for two made in few days- Harwin had shaken his head, but said nothing about his tactics so he probably didn't cross any major lines when implying body harm-, and has taken Daeron flying at least once every two days and always coming back with the boy safe, sound and grinning like a maniac.

Their flights started to get longer with time, from a few minutes he started to take him for longer, flying over King's Landing and then venturing farther, showing his nephew the skies who will belong to him soon enough, Tessarion growing strong right under their eyes.

And slowly but surely it was not strange anymore for the Rogue Prince to take his youngest nephew flying for a few hours, not a single guard batting an eye or even making any attempts at stopping his actions.

Gwayne is lowering his guard as well, the more time Daemon spends with his nephew without bringing him harm, the more the Hightower is willing to let them have time together without his supervision, he isn’t supposed to do that, he had confessed with a smirk one day, but it can’t be good for Daeron to have him hovering over his shoulder his whole life.

Today said man is busy with Harwin, Daemon had seen the two of them in the courtyard getting ready for a sparring session they have been talking about for ages, and that is exactly why he has picked today of all days to finally put his plan in action. No one will blame the two men when they are unaware that Daemon was even going to take his nephew for a ride, and if the stars align themselves just right the proximity between them will have the two of them on their doorstep until the end of the week.

It’s a good plan, not exactly one that would get the approval of anyone around him, but Daemon has never truly cared about that and he is far too pleased with the outcome to really care about the consequences right now.

“This will not make grandfather angry at uncle Gwayne, will it?” Daeron asks, tugging at his clothes, a worried frown on his face

“No, it will be at me that your grandfather will be angry.” Daemon snorts, feeling immensely pleased at the idea “But that wouldn’t matter much, he is angry at me all of the time.”

“I don’t know why he doesn’t like you.” Daeron frowns, squeezing his hand as if trying to comfort him “You are really cool, uncle.”

“You are not that bad yourself, little nephew.”

Daemon can’t help the pleased grin spreading over his face, it looks like he isn’t that dusty on his charming skills if his new little nephew is so willingly to proclaim he thinks he is ‘cool’, the highest compliment one can get from a child as far as he is concerned.

They reach the Dragon Pit quickly enough and after just a few moments Caraxes is already coming towards them- His boy has gotten used to the freedom granted in the Free Cities where Daemon and Laena didn’t even consider the possibility of chaining their mounts, so when the dragonkeepers tried to chain Caraxes he had responded at their attempts with fire and when it became quite clear that Daemon was not going to be very helpful in controlling said dragon they had just given up on the idea altogether.

Good, Daemon never agreed with this barbaric practice of keeping the dragons chained like beasts. He wonders how hard it will be to convince Rhaneyra to whisper into Viserys’ ear to get this practice banned and their dragons, at least the ones who have been claimed, as free as is their right.

Daemon knows, intimately, that dragons were not born to be chained.

Tessarion arrives just a little later, the young dragon small enough that Daeron managed to use a quite impressive set of puppy eyes to convince the keepers to leave her unchained as well, and the little blue queen has taken a quick liking to Caraxes, being often found curled with him, his own companion protectively wrapped around the young hatchling.

If Daemon was a more poetic man he would try to draw some parallels between their dragons and himself and his nephew.

Daeron is quick to leave his side to greet his dragon, Tessarion chirping in joy as she lowers herself even more for her young rider to throw his arms around her neck in a hug. Caraxes approaches him, gently nudging him with his snout and Daemon is quick to put a hand on his neck, cooing softly at the dragon and resting his head against his scales.

“I know you miss them.” He says to him, low enough to not be overheard by anyone “But we will see each other soon enough. Ready to cause some trouble?”

Caraxes lets out a sound of excitement lowering himself just the tiniest amount and Daeron comes almost running, already well versed with the tell tales signals that the older dragon is ready to take him for a ride, his own smile blinding. It’s quick work, to get both himself and Daeron situated in the new saddle and with a last smile to the oblivious guards and dragonkeepers the prince orders his dragon to take flight.

Soon enough King’s Landing is nothing but a miniature city, Caraxes always a lover of great heights that dwarften everything below them, his nephew lets out a joyous scream as Caraxes lazily spins in the air and Daemon laughs and smiles more freely than he has done in the last weeks, feeling himself relax, Tessarion flies close, trying to imitate the older dragon.

“Where are we going?” Daeron finally asks, resting his head against his back to watch the world below them

“Dragonstone.” Daemon grins, pleased beyond imagination “We are going home.”

Alicent wishes, perhaps more fervently than she ever wished for anything, that the war on the Stepstones claimed Prince Daemon’s life.

It would have made the world a safer place, would have made her children’s lives so much more secure without the threat of that man hanging over their heads, his very existence an affront to the gods.

Time and time again Daemon Targaryen laughs in the face of anything sacred.

He respects nothing and no one. Not his realm, not his family, not his duty, not the honor Alicent sincerely doubts he ever owned.

And the worst part of it all is that her own husband, the King of the Realm, is so very willing to overlook it all. To deafen his ears and blind his eyes to every single one of the man’s sins, to pretend all of his flaws are nothing but easily excused issues, always so very ready to open his arms and welcome such a snake of a man into his home.

Sometimes Alicent feels nothing but disgust at Viserys for his inability to truly do something about his rabid dog of a brother.

Even now that the man has kidnapped her son, her innocent little boy, nothing more than a young boy, from under their noses leaving behind nothing but a note, Viserys has done nothing more than chuckle and shake his head.

Anger burns like poison, like something threatening to choke the very soul out of her as she stands with her husband doing her very best to swallow the biting words making a home of themselves on her tongue.

This is all Rhaenyra’s doing, she is sure of it, just another attempt of the vile woman to steal yet another of her children, to take them from the safety of her side just so that she can fill their minds with her lies and poison, trying to turn them against their own kin.

And now, with Lord Fleabottom at her side, and warming her bed without any doubts, the danger her children are in has just increased. Daeron was supposed to be safe, here, in her arms, where she can hold him and pretend that her oldest children are just outside the door and not made to be away from her side.

But Daemon Targaryen respects nothing, let alone the sanctity of family, so of course he has ripped her youngest son from her arms, taken him to do the gods’ know what.

“Viserys, please.” She begs again, feeling her lips tremble with unshed tears of rage and frustration “He has taken our son.”

“To Dragonstone, Alicent.” Her husband says, gentle, unaware of the storm in her heart “Daemon has nothing but good intentions, even if he has a strange way to act on them.”

She almost scoffs at the idea of Daemon Targaryen being able to do anything good.

“Without our permission or even acknowledgement of those plans!” She hisses “Just gone! My son has barely been here for a month and he has been ripped from my arms yet again. Please, Viserys, I need him back.”

But that is not what Alicent wants to say, even as she gently holds the hand of her husband, eyes wet with tears and just the right amount of despair on her expression to soften his heart, all she can feel in her heart is burning anger.

She wants to scream. She wants to shake him. She wants to take a sword from a guard and hit his model of Valyria until nothing but dust and broken pieces too small to be mended are all that is left.

She wants to demand him to explain why .

Why did you marry me? She asks, screams, inside her own mind in moments like those, fighting the urge to tear her nails to the very bone

Why did you marry me and make me birth a son if you never intended for anyone but Rhaenyra to take your Crown?

Why did you keep coming to my bed and leaving me to bear your children when you can’t spare them a single look, a wisp of your love?

It’s not fair .

Alicent has done her duty and she has done it well. She has been everything a wife and a queen consort should be, she has heard his every problem, has offered her opinions when asked, has taken care of him, organized feasts and public apparitions, has mingled with his court and made the nobles feel heard and important, she has smiled at them even when she wanted nothing more than to scream, she has bottled every dark thought, every complain and done her duty.

She has birthed him healthy trueborn children with the Valyrian looks, all of them now dragonriders.

And yet she has to beg him for something that shouldn’t need to be said. He, as father, as king, should be enraged that his youngest child has been taken from their home without permission, that their older children have been forbidden from coming back to their side despiste the tragedy that has fallen on them.

But as much as Alicent has tried to lie to her children, she is well aware that they are not loved by Viserys.

He loved Aegon, when he was a babe. He played with him, held him even when it was improper, showered him in praises and gifts worthy of a prince, never spared him a smile or a gentle touch.

He loved Helaena as well, held her tight, could calm her down when every wet nurse and even Alicent herself failed to, sang to her in High Valyrian until the little girl fell asleep in his arms, his expression soft when looking at her.

But then Daemon Targaryen came back.

But then Rhaenyra disrespected and disgraced herself, her house and the realm for a night of pleasure.

But then she whispered poison in Viserys’ ears, blaming her father for her fall from grace, and had him sent away from King’s Landing.

And like the blink of an eye Viserys no longer paid any attention to his younger children, too busy with Rhaenyra, with saving her reputation, with arranging a marriage for her, with being with her.

Aegon was old enough to realize the change of attitude, but young enough to not understand why.

For months Alicent had to watch her oldest walk around the halls of the Red Keep, asking every single person in his path where his father was, begging them to take him to where he was, and when that failed, pleading for them to tell the King that he would be waiting for him in their favorite spot.

It broke her heart and filled her with the flames of hatred.

Alicent had tried so hard to not hate Viserys, but she couldn’t stop herself back then, not when the people, noble and servants alike, looked at her and her son with pity .

Helaena was too young, Alicent doubts she can even remember those moments with her father, yet the young girl cried and cried and cried until Alicent had to order the wet nurses to take her away, to leave her to tire herself out if that was what it took, because she couldn’t even think without the sound of her daughter’s cries piercing her brain.

And yet, even as he forgot about their children, Viserys never forgot the path to her bed, the map of her body.

And yet, even as he ignored the children already born, he left her to give birth to two more.

Aemond and Daeron never had even a whisper of that father, of that love.

In moments like this, Alicent feels the flames of anger and hatred burning in the deep of her soul, where she has kept it buried for as long as she has been alive, but she does not allow those traitorous words to leave her lips, to taint the air around her.

Alicent is a dutiful wife, a dutiful queen and it’s not her place to complain, to demand things from the king. She can only beg, she can only hold his hand and plead, can use whatever love has been left from his first wife and now belongs to her to touch his heart and get her what she wants.

His face softens, as she knew it would, and his free hand wraps around her’s, his touch gentle and soothing, his skin feeling frail as paper, not as hot to the touch as it was when they first married.

“I understand it cannot be easy for you, to be separated from all of the children for the first time.” He dips his head, eyes so gentle it abates a bit of the burning of her insides “It is never my intention to bring you pain, my wife.”

“Then will you request the return of my children?” She demands, gripping his hand harder

“We will send a ship with a messenger, to tell Rhaenyra and Daemon to return with the children.” He smiles at her, patting her hand

“Send my father.”

“No.” Viserys shakes his head “No, I need Otto here with me, and you know he and Daemon do not see eye to eye, it will only create an issue where there is none.”

Alicent barely keeps herself from scoffing at the ridiculous notion that her children, unprotected and vulnerable, in the claws of Rhaenyra and her mad lap dog is not an issue.

“My brother then.” She concedes “He is uncle to the children, it will be good for them to see family.”

Someone she can trust. Someone who will do what she asks, someone who will not be infected by Rhaenyra’s poison.

“Very well.” He smiles at her again, squeezing her hand “Daemon doesn’t mean harm with his actions, you know him, he acts without thinking most of the time but never to inflict pain. The boy, as well as his siblings, are perfectly fine under the care of their sister.”

“If you say so, husband.”

It’s as much as she can say without screaming at how stupid and blind he must be towards the monster in human skin that is his brother. Daemon Targaryen is not a man to be trusted, in any circ*mstance, especially not with her young and vulnerable children, and Rhaenyra…. Gods she shudders to think what ugly lies she has been feeding her sons, what false promises she must be whispering in their ears.

A woman who lied when swearing on the memory of her own mother is a woman who cannot be trusted.

Alicent leaves the King quickly after that, there is nothing more of him that she wishes for and long gone are the days where she genuinely enjoyed his presence, the years have done nothing but sour the relationship between them, at least in the sanctuary of her mind and heart.

Finding Gwayne is easy work, her brother is a creature of habits and not long after she sent a servant to fetch him from the training grounds the door to one of her sitting rooms is opening and he enters, still using some rag to clean to sweat from his face even if he is not wearing any armor.

“Sister.” He smiles easily at her, moving so he can stand close to her “Did you call for me?”

“The King decided it’s appropriate to send a messenger to Dragonstone, so that Rhaenyra can bring my children home.” She cuts straight to the matter at hand, moving to grab his hands in her’s, the rag he was using falling at their feet “You will go, will you not? To bring my children back to me?”

“Sure.” Gwayne nods at her, still smiling, something a bit softer this time “Of course I will. When should I depart?”

“Immediately.” She replies, squeezing his hand, feeling the bitterness and the rage choking her from inside out. “My children have spent enough time in the grasp of those people, it’s far past the time they come back to where they belong.”

“Oh, of course.” Her brother frowns at her for a bit, looking at their hands before gently squeezing back “I know it must have scared you, to not find Daeron, but you can relax now sister.”

“Where are you?” Alicent asks the question burning on the back of her mind, once more clenching her hands around his to avoid the urge to clench her hands around the green fabric of her dress “When he took Daeron, where were you?”

“You speak as if Daeron is dead.” Gwayne huffs, sounding almost amused “Rather than just across the bay with his siblings. I was with Ser Harwin in the courtyard, we were sparring.”

“I can't believe you let this happen Gwayne.”

“ Me ?” Gwayne says, both offended and shocked at her words “What in the gods name do I have to do with this? I just told you I wasn’t even with them!”

“Exactly! You were supposed to protect him, not fool around!” Alicent grips his hand harder but her brother pulls it away, her nails leaving angry marks on the pale flesh

“I have done nothing but protect him for the last two years!” Gwayne bites out, sounding immediately offended

“And yet my son was stolen by a man who knows no morals, whose heart is as black as the starless sky! Who knows what that monster had done to my boy? You should never have allowed them to spend so much time together.”

“And what was I supposed to do, sister? Tell a Prince of the realm what he could and couldn't do? Shadow Daeron the whole day and whole night, never leaving him out of my sight?” He scoffs at her, crossing his arms “And Prince Daemon has been nothing but good to Daeron, I didn't have any cause for concern.”

“Are you out of your mind, Gwayne? Are you so blind and so stupid that you let yourself be fooled by his lies? Even the worst of men can put on a mask of humanity for a few days.” She lashes out, hands balled into fists “My son lost an eye and almost died under their so-called care, and now all of my children are in their territory, alone and vulnerable! Gods, I can’t believe you let that man, a man who almost killed you, get so close to my son that he was able to take him right under our nose. Can you imagine what poison they will whisper into his ears? He is only a little boy, he doesn’t know better, but you should not have been this negligent.”

“Do not talk to me like that.” His face closes off, arms crossed over his chest in a defensive manner “Do not talk to me like I’m stupid or like I have failed in my duty to protect Daeron.”

“You let my son be led to a trap like a lamb to the slaughter, I will talk to you as I damn please!”

Because Gwayne is not father, is not Viserys, is not any man on the council or the court. He listens to her, with attention, never dismissing her words as if her opinions are worthless, as if her wants are meaningless, when she asks something of him it's with the intimate certainty that he will oblige.

Because she knows she can talk to him like this and he will not turn a heavy hand against her, will not spit cruel words in her direction, will not scoff and call her mad, or unhinged, or insult her using her womanhood as a weapon, it simply isn't his nature to do so.

She will speak to him as she pleases, just as father speaks to her as he pleases, because Gwayne loves her, as she loves their father, and he will allow it the same as she does.

They are not so different at the end of the day, bound together by blood and tragedy and tears and the presence of a man who is larger than life, that overwhelms every room he inhabitants and they learned how to exist under the oppressive shadow he casts over everything and Alicent relies on this like a woman left adrift, she clings to the fact that there is one person in this whole world who sees her, who understands the cracks and the tears and the patchwork that is her soul. She may lose everything around her, but Gwayne is her older brother and he has always made it clear that she is his priority.

She will talk with Gwayne as she pleases because he will not turn from her.

“You speak, yet all that I can hear are father's words spilling from your mouth.” He scoffs at her, a sharp tone to his words “Do you even hear yourself?

“Do you hear yourself?” She demands back, crossing her arms “Defending the man who almost killed you, and for what? You speak as if father is wrong, as if we didn’t get proof after proof that Rhaenyra cannot be trusted.”

“And you speak as if he is right about everything, as if just because Otto Hightower said it, then it must be the incontestable truth. What proof did you get Alicent?” He opens his arms exasperated “Because the only thing I saw was an uncle getting to know his nephew and teaching him things he expressed interest in, prince Daemon not once acted like he saw Daeron as anything more than his kin, and all that I heard about princess Rhaenyra is that she is acting incredibly kindly towards the children and they love her.”

“Oh yes, because we can truly believe in anything she says or does.” She scoffs at him again, anger bleeding into her voice “Because Rhaenyra has never lied about anything of importance before! She is truly a paragon of duty and honesty.”

“As if our father is either of those things either!” Gwayne almost laughs, something ugly “For f*ck’s sake Alicent, in what moment of our lives has he ever cared about us? He wants his blood on the throne and he will say and do anything to get you to support him. Do you truly believe being close to him is better than being close to Rhaenyra?”

“Our father loves us.” She repeats the words she has clung to their whole lives “He is harsh because he has to be Gwayne, because that is how we learn. And we did learn, didn’t we?”

“Well I sure as f*ck learned about pain with him.” There it is again, that ugly smile on his face, the anger in his eyes “Can’t say I learned anything else that he couldn’t have taught me without hitting me or belittling me at every turn.”

“He made a queen. And his teachings have helped me fulfill all of my duties”

“Did you ever want to be one?” The question comes almost before she finishes her sentence, and his face softens, just a bit as he reaches for her hand pulling it until he can hold “You don’t have to lie, not with me.”

Alicent takes a shuddering breath and doesn’t reply.

Gwayne is wrong.

She has to lie. She has to, because otherwise she will need to admit things she cannot allow herself to, she will dig up things that she has painstakingly buried and fought very hard to keep like that for as long as she had stood besides Viserys, if she allows the truth to leave the dark corner it lives in everything will crumble around her like a castle of cards.

Alicent has sacrificed too much to allow it to come to ruin. Her pain, her sacrifices, everything she has one and given for this, cannot go to waste, it will ruin whatever is left of her if it does.

“Your silence is telling, sister.” He too takes a deep breath, his voice lowering, almost pleading “Alicent, you have to know that what he does is wrong, that what he did to me, to you , is wrong. It’s not too late to tell him to f*ck off, to live your life as you want it.”

“I know that father only wanted the best for us.” It’s her turn to pull her hand from his grasp, clasping them together “I know he saw greatness in us and knew what he needed to do. You just could never accept his lessons could you Gwayne? You always had to rebel, to talk back, to make him….”

“Make him what , Alicent?” He interrupts her and anger flashes on his face again

“Make him correct you.” She continues, tearing into her fingers unable to stop herself even if her voice match the harshness of his’

“Is that what you tell yourself, when he does the same things to your children?” He crosses his arms “Do they rebel, do they talk back to him, as I once did? Do he, or his lackeys, have to correct them often? Do you stand there and watch, or do you pretend you don’t know what is happening, dear sister?”

“They are young.” She says, pain and tiredness so heavy that Gwayne softens at her expression, his shoulders dropping for a moment “They are young and reckless and they never learn. What would you have me do, Gwayne? Let them grow unaware of the danger that hangs over their heads for the sole crime of being alive? Let them enjoy their naivety until the day they were dragged from their chambers to be executed in front of the gods and men alike?”

“Protect them.” His reply comes easy enough “I would have protected them from the horrors that once plagued us both, that still plague us both. Do they require heavy hands and harsh words to learn? Daeron has never needed any of it, and he is a happy, clever, child.”

“A child who went with our enemy, without protection!”

The mention of her boy brings back the initial reason for their conversation, the worry and the anger flaring back to life. How dare Gwayne speak as if he knows better than her, as if he understands anything of the struggles of raising children.

“A child who went with his uncle, who has been nothing but kind to him.”

“Oh yes, I am sure the Rogue Prince will be nothing but kind when he slit their throats, perhaps he will make it quickly, that is our only hope now!”

“You speak as if everything's my fault. Daeron is eager to see his siblings of course he would willingly go with the person who offered to bring him to them and their absence from this castle is very much not my fault.”

“Are you implying it’s mine?” Her eyes narrow in his direction

“Well Alicent, perhaps you should have done a better job with your children if you didn’t want them running to the first person who was mildly nice to them! Have you ever thought that perhaps they are searching in Rhaenyra for things they didn’t get with you?”

The slap rings absolutely loud in the room.

Brother and sister stare at each other with twin expressions of shock in both deep brown and grayish blue eyes, pink mouths hanging open. Alicent’s hand throbs, Gwayne’s cheek reddens quickly.

He recovers first, the smile on his face is brittle, an ugly thing that looks stitched on his face, his eyes distant and void of the warmth she has taken from granted, the warmth that has always been there, especially when looking at her.

“I will bring the children back as you order, my queen.” He bows to her “If you excuse me I shall leave to make the preparations.”

“Gwayne…”

The words die on her throat, burning on their way up but she can say anything because she doesn’t know what or how. She just looks at him, waiting, waiting for something she also doesn’t know. Waiting for him to lash out? To apologize for his words? For his inattention that led to her son being taken away? For him to soften his gaze and wrap his arms around her, as he did when they were children and she lashed out at him?

But he doesn’t do either of those things.

He doesn’t do anything.

They stand in front of each other in a silent room, she looking at him and him looking at the ground, his hair falling over his face enough that she can pretend there isn’t any redness on his fair skin.

Finally her brother unfreezes, he bows at her again, deeper, a knight bowing to his queen and turns his back to leave.