Chapter Text
Whatever was ailing Aegon left him running a fever and having fits of violent coughs
“Unknown?” Viserys parroted. “Aegon is suffering from an unknown illness?” Melios nodded grimly. “What ails him?”
“We do not know your grace; we have found no poison. Nothing.” The maester said.
Viserys was absolutely confused. Aegon suffering from a sudden illness was so unexpected. “Will he recover?”
“We do not know; he is coughing blood and seems very weak.” Melios said.
“Perhaps we might get other maesters from the Citadel,” Viserys said.
“Your Grace!” A hightower guard said as he stormed into the king’s rooms.
“What is it?” Viserys asked as he saw the panic on the man’s face.
“The prince Aegon, your grace. He is having trouble breathing.” The man said
Viserys and the maester rushed towards Aegon’s rooms. Viserys looked down the hall and saw Rhaenyra come outside her door, she looked around for the source of the noise, when her eyes met his, Viserys swore he could see a small smile, but she was gone before he could look again to confirm.
The king shook his head.
The turmoil of the day is getting to you, he thought to himself. That’s it, nothing more.
By the time they got to Aegon's rooms, Alicent was already cradling a blue Aegon. The screams she let out shattered something in the king. The smell of blood filled the room, and, the maids looked on silently.
Alicent watched the sun from her bed. The king had come in and offered her some words of comfort, but they brought no comfort to her, her son was dead and none knew what had killed him. Alicent tried to request that she dine with Rhaenyra, hoping that her friend would take pity on her and offer her some comfort, but the maid had let her know the princess had left for Dragonstone as soon as the sun had risen, she was going to see what would soon be her home, after her marriage.
Rhaenyra upon returning from her tour, with the news that she would be marrying Lord Cregan stark had declared that Dragonstone would be her homeUpon learning that the princess would no longer reside in the keep, the king and Alicent felt devastated, but Rhaenyra would not be deterred.
“What are you doing laying down like this?” Otto Hightiwer asked “It has been a moon since Aegon’s funeral, and yet you sit here and do nothing. The princess is to be married, and she cannot be allowed to have a son before you!”
“I have a son,” Alicent sobbed.
“You had a son!” Otto snapped.
Otto looked on as the king stared at his daughter. The princess had arrived last at the meeting.
“As you know my daughter has decided that she wishes to marry Lord Cregan of House Stark, and I think it is a good choice.” The king said, “They shall marry in six moons.”
“Your Grace, what about the other lords of the realm? The Velaryons? The lords of the north do not worship the seven like the realm does.” Otto said. He hoped to convince the king to marry his daughter to the queer Velaryon heir.
“The lords of the realm also wondered why the daughter of a second son, a steward, with no land, no men, and no gold is their king’s wife. But I did not see you bring that up, Ser Otto,” The princess stated. She stared at Otto, one of her eyebrows raised, Otto heard the other lords of the council laugh. “Let’s not forget how you also ignored the Velaryons when they said that pirates were robbing and attacking them. You have shown you can ignore the lords, Otto, please endeavour to use those skills now as well.”
“Not to mention not everyone worships the seven.” Lynoel Strong added. “The crown certainly doesn’t.”
Otto looked towards the king.
“Your Grace?” Otto said, expecting the king to side with him as he always did.
“Enough. My daughter has shown great wisdom in this choice, and I have written to Lord Rickcon and his father Lord Stark.” The king said, he turned to smile at his daughter, but she did not return it.
“But what about the mourning period of prince Aegon?” Otto asked. “Surely that needs to be observed.”
“You seemed to not care for mourning periods when your daughter was galavanting in her mothers dresses with a recently widowed king. I am sure you can find it in your heart to overlook this one as well.” The princess said.
Alicent watched from her seated position under the godswood as Rhaenyra strolled through the garden with Lord Cregan Stark and his two Direwolves. Alicent looked on as the handsome lord said something to the princess and she stopped to laugh, her lips twitching in a fond sort of smile. Her heart clenched as she watched her friend. She stood up and straightened her dress, determined to speak to Rhaenyra, to mend the broken friendship between them. They were family, Alicent needed her especially now that her son was dead and the king seemed to be pulling away from her. She walked towards the couple, a smile painted on her face.
“Queen Alicent.” The winter lord was the one who noticed her, he nodded at her, but did not return her smile, Rhaenyra did not even bother with a greeting, she merely stood there, her arms behind her back and she stared at Alicent, as if asking her to get to the point.
“I am excited to learn more about you, Lord Cregan,” Alicent said, smiling. The lord was only one year older than Alicent. He was tall, and his grey eyes were striking. He had his hair half up, half down, and Alicent wanted to run her hands through it. His aristocratic features made him pretty, not in the way Targaryen’s were, in a more rugged way.
“Hmm,” the lord answered. Alicent bristled at the dismissal. He looked towards Rhaenyra, who was still silent, and leaned down to say something to her. Another smile tugged on the princess’s lips, and he bowed to her and kissed her hand like a gallant knight.
“My dragon princess.” He said he straightened up and nodded at Alicent. “Queen Alicent.” Turning around, he walked off, his black wolf following him. Although his white wolf stayed beside the princess.
Rhaenyra watched him for a moment before turning to walk off
“Rhaenyra, please wait!” Alicent said. “May we talk?” Her voice pleaded.
“I am afraid not.” Rhaenyra answered.
“Oh, you have something to do? Perhaps I could accompany you.” Alicent asked hopefully.
“You misunderstand me. I simply do not wish to speak to you. Oh, and stepmother, it is Princess Rhaenyra.” Rhaenyra said, her face cold and her tone flat. She did not wait for Alicent to recover; she simply left, the white wolf trotting along behind her.
Viserys watched as Cregan Stark pulled out a chair for his daughter. She smiled and thanked the young lord. The king had ordered the two present for a dinner to celebrate the courtship of his daughter. Alicent sat beside him, and she looked hopefully towards Rhaenyra, but his daughter did not even spare her a glance. In truth, Rhaenyra did not spare Viserys a glance either. He could count the number of conversations his daughter had actively taken part in with him since he announced his second marriage. The longest one being when she had told him of her desire to be wed. After he had forced her to go on tour for a husband.
“I wish to marry Lord Cregan Stark.” Rhaenyra had said to him the night after her return to the capital. He had thought that giving into her wish to marry the northerner would endear him to her, but Rhaenyra was colder than she had ever been.
“So how are you liking the capital?” The king asked the Stark lord, hoping to break the awkward silence.
“It is rather hot, but the view is terribly pretty to look at,” the young lord answered. He stared at Rhaenyra when he said it, and Viserys saw her squeeze his hand in appreciation.
“Yes, the capital is not known for winter.” Viserys joked. Alicent and Cregan laughed politely, but Rhaenyra did not even look up from her plate. “I am sure you will soon get used to it.” The Stark boy hummed, and another awkward silence overtook the room.
“I am sure you are excited about your courtship and wedding.” Alicent said
“Indeed, I am. Any tips, your grace?” Cregan asked, turning towards Viserys.
“Seeing as you have yet to butcher a wife, the king cannot give us any courting advice.” The smile she gave Viserys was cold, and he felt an unease settle in his stomach. “The king courted Alicent in the shadows. They started meeting to read on the night of my mother’s funeral.” Rhaenyra said, looking directly at Viserys. His face turned ashen, and he looked at Alicent. She fared no better. “She wore her mother’s gowns, prayed with me for my mother’s soul while she comforted and planned to take her place. Terribly romantic, no?”
Viserys stared at his daughter. She held his gaze as if asking him to tell her she was a liar
“The man who ordered his wife butchered was the one in need of comfort. How ironic.” Rhaenyra said again when the room got even quieter. She took a sip of her watered-down wine.
Rhaenyra was sitting in her bath when she heard the panel open. When Ghost did not make a sound, she knew it was Cregan.
“Hello sweet girl.” Cregan Stark said, sitting down on the ground next to the tub. Rhaenyra did not open her eyes just yet. She felt comfortable with Cregan, even though her body was bare.
“One down so many more to go.” she said with no preamble.
“We will make them all suffer, Nyra,” her betrothed said.
Rhaenyra laughed softly. “Do you remember when we first met?” She opened her eyes now and looked into the grey eyes that had always captivated her.
“Yes, I believe you told me I had beautiful eyes.” Cregan said, smirking. Rhaenyra moved her arm out of the water and ran her hand across his face.
“You do.” Rhaenyra said. “And you told me that you would build the steps of my accession to the throne, with the body of my enemies." She smiled when she remembered their meeting in Strom’s End.
“Why kill them, darling? When suffering is what you are owed.” Cregan said. Rhaenyra pulled Cregan towards her, and he came willingly. She kissed him, he moved her head expertly and his lips took charge.
“My, who have you been doing that with?” Rhaenyra teased when her eyes opened.
“Nobody can compare to you, princess,” the older boy said. “Otto Hightower will die, so will his daughter, his little bitch the king, and any grandchildren he thinks he will have to put on the throne. But first I will make them suffer so much they will wish I had simply just killed them.” Cregan said. “That is my promise to you.”
Cregan watched as Rhaenyra smiled; tears were rolling down the princess of Dragonstone’s eyes.
He was glad to see her smiling, for the last few moons she had routinely woken up from nightmares of being cut open, and Cregan would make sure Viserys suffered for the harm he had inflicted on his beloved. He swore it on his mother’s memory and the former queen’s as well.
The next stage of their plans hinged on someone to dose Alicent with a concoction that would make whatever old nan told him about in her stories look like a warm hug, but to do so, they would have to dose Alicent several times. Alicent could not bare another healthy child before Rhaenyra had her heir. Well, they were planning to kill any children Viserys had anyway, but the poison was just for Alicent. For the queen had been so quick to tell his beloved that her labours with her first child had been easy.
“We could also just put it in her oils.” Rhaenyra suggested.
“No, that will leave a trail. Tea is the best way to drink all the evidence.” Cregan whispered in her ear, leaving a trail of kisses on her neck.
Rhaenyra nodded. The Hightowers and Viserys did not know what was coming for them. Viserys had already provided them with their st
“Your royal highness.” The maid says as she walks into Rhaenyra’s rooms. “The king wishes to break his fast with you.”
Rhaenyra turns her head towards the door, the sleep leaving her immediately.
“Tell the king that I shall meet him.” Rhaenyra said back.
The walk towards Viserys’s chambers is quiet, with the new Kingsguard Christon’s armour clanking behind her.
“Your Grace, you wished to see me,” Rhaenyra says when she walks into the king’s dining hall.
“Ah, Rhaenyra!” Viserys says, moving to hug her. She takes a small step back, avoiding him. She can see the hurt on his face. He clears his throat awkwardly. “Shall we sit?” he asks.
Rhaenyra can tell that Viserys wishes to say something, but since he is a coward, he is hoping that she will say something to help him ease the awkwardness that surrounds him, but Rhaenyra is no longer interested in making Viserys’s life easier.
She chews slowly, waiting. Viserys continuously clears his throat, as if he is hoping that will help him find courage that has never existed in his body.
“I know we have not spoken properly since I announced my intention to wed Alicent.” Viserys says. “I swear to you I never disrespected Aemma’s memory.” The blank stare that Rhaenyra gives the king forces him to shrink back.
“I cannot see how you could mean that when you watched her be killed and then met with a woman on the night of her funeral, you knew it was wrong that is why you kept it a secret, and rather than own up to your failings you choose to humiliate me in front of the small council and the girl who used to help me dress.” Rhaenyra said bluntly. “Tell me, sire, if your grandfather were alive, would he have allowed you to marry a maid?” She paused and allowed Viserys to sit in his own embarrassment.
“No,” Viserys finally said.
“You lecture Daemon about duty, yet it is you that fails yours. Tell me, should Daemon marry Laena Velaryon, then take the throne, how will you fight it? You have no dragons, and he would have three.” Rhaenyra said, and Viserys furrowed his brow as if he had never stopped to think about this. “You did not even consider this, did you?”
“No,” Viserys said again. He took a giant sip from his cup. “Daemon would never.”
“And why not?” Rhaenyra pushed, “What have you given to Daemon to reward his loyalty? The annulment he asked for constantly? You who allow servants like Otto Hightower to insult a prince of blood, and yet you think you are deserving of loyalty? That is why I chose Cregan, just in case your glaring lack of intelligence comes home to roost. I will kneel to king Daemon and then go off and live in the north.”
Viserys frowned as he thought about Rhaenyra’s words. He had clearly always thought that Daemon would stay loyal to him; he was his brother.
“No Daemon would never.” Viserys repeated, although this time, his eyes showed a hint of doubt. Good Rhaenyra thought, I am going to make your life a living hell.
“I am sure my mother never thought you’d order her butchered, but alas here we are.” Rhaenyra said, and she saw the moment the doubt turned to fear. “Your precious son is dead and your second wife has yet to get pregnant again. Meaning at best your faction has one possible dragon rider, a babe of six moons.”
The fear that passed through the king's eyes at the truth of her words brought her joy.
“The king, they said, had murdered his wife so that he could fuck a redheaded whore.”
Those are amongst the whispers Daemon hears as he returns to the capital. His brother had wed the Hightower chit and the smallfolk mocked him for it.
“It was a bastard, that's why the gods took him.” they said of his brothers recently dead son
“A disgrace. The house that claims to be holy.”
Daemon’s lips twitched as he walked around the streets, his head covered by his cloak. He always preferred to hear the gossip from the small folk, for they noticed more than nobles thought them capable of.
“Did you see the princess and Lord Cregan?”
“He is completely infatuated with her.”
“Good realms delight deserves nothing less.”
Daemon huffed as he walked towards the castle. His niece was to be married to a Stark, his spies had said as much in their letters, and Daemon was glad he had returned from war before she was wed. For he had to take measure of the lad that thought himself worthy of his niece.
When Daemon arrived in the halls of the keep, he saw Melios rushing with various maids, and behind them was a kingaurd rushing outside carrying a redhead, bridal style. Daemon saw blood had stained the cloak the man had used to cover the woman he was carrying. She was pregnant, but she was moaning and bleeding, leaving a trail of blood on the floor as they left.
Before Daemon could stop someone, he saw his niece walk out of the large doors, two wolves trailing her and a man walking behind her. She spotted him and smiled.
“Kepus!” she said, walking towards him. She hugged him, and Daemon hugged her back, inhaling her scent.
“Zaldrītsos,” Daemon said. “What is all this commotion?”
“We had gathered at the court to welcome you. However, my stepmother started to scream and bleed.” Rhaenyra said.
Melios stood beside the queen’s bed as she attempted to push out the babe. The smell of blood permeated the room. The girl was screaming in agony as Melios and his acolytes told her to keep pushing. After what seemed like days, a head finally appeared. But once Melios saw the head, he gasped. For the head was split, it looked like someone had carved the babe in half. When the babe was fully out of the queen, Melios shook his head; he had seen nothing like it. The child looked as if it had been butchered like a pig. Its internal organs fell to the floor, an eye rolling around Melios’s feet.
Melios rushed outside to inform the king and Otto.
“The queen has birthed a babe, but sire, it is dead.” Melios said to the king.
“Dead?” the king asked.
“Yes, dead.”
“Let me see him,” the king demanded. Melios looked towards Otto and sighed. He led the king and the father of the queen into the room. The acolytes had retrieved all the bits of the babe. The body lay out like a carcass. The king took one look and staggered back.
“What monstrosity is this?” the king yelled.
Viserys invited Daemon to dinner the next night as an apology for not being able to greet him properly.
“Viserys.” He started as he walked into his brother’s rooms.
Viserys stood by his window, his hand gripping his cup tightly.
“Daemon,” his brother replied. His eyes were red, like he had been crying.
“Are you alright?” Daemon asked
“They have finally stopped chanting.” Viserys said.
Ah, Daemon realised he was upset about the chants that had been happening since the late afternoon. Someone had clearly spread the news of the little Hightowers’ abominable stillbirth, and the small folk had stood chanting. If Daemon did not know better, he would have thought it was Rhaenyra who orchestrated the chanting.
“Dragonless Maegor and counterfeit Ceryse.”
“Maegor the cruel, Jaehaerys the councilor and Viserys the decaying fool.”
They would surely come up with more creative things, once given time.
Daemon laughed and Viserys turned to look at him, his eyes wide in insult.
“So you know that being compared to Maegor is cruel, yet you stood by and did nothing as Otto Hightower insulted me for years.” Daemon explained. “Perhaps the wedding of your heir will bring you some respite, the people seem to love the realms delight and her wolf.” Daemon frowned at that, for he had yet to get his niece alone.
Otto Hightower was let into the king's rooms.
“Let them bury the child with no fanfare. Nobody must know how deformed that thing was.” Viserys said to the Hightower man. Otto nodded.
“The queen will birth you a healthy son.” Otto said, pleading. But Viserys never turned back around.
Alicent lay on the mattress, shivering. She had suffered a stillbirth; the babe was gone.Her precious son. Alicent lay there weeping, cold and alone, for her father had simply left her after telling her she needed to make sure she got pregnant again soon. She was a devout follower of the seven, so surely this should not have happened to her. Her child should have been born whole. Another prince, the one that the king could be proud of.
The king had not even come to visit her. Alicent heard from the maids that he was dining with his brother. I am his wife, she thought; he should be comforting me. A maid entered her room.
“Get me the princess,” she said. Surely Rhaenyra would not leave her like this; her own mother had suffered several miscarriages and stillbirths. Before the maid could carry out her wishes, the king walked in.
“They will bury the child silently.” Her husband said, “None shall know of the disfigured child you bore.”
“Husband,” she began, but the king did not wait for her to finish; he simply walked out.