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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.

Chapter Text

“Gevie zaldrītsos,” Daemon said as Rhaenyra walked out towards him in her wedding dress. Pearls decorated the white lace around the bodice and the front. A large diamond necklace adorned her neck, and a diamond tiara fastened her hair. She had her hair half up and half down. Valyrian braids on top, and the rest was curled. 

“Will I do kepa?” she asks, her hands running down her dress, nerves Daemon gathers. 

“Gevie zaldrītsos,” Daemon repeats. Rhaenyra looks beautiful. He does not know when the tears run down his face. 

Rhaenyra walks up to him and wraps her arms around him, and he pulls her closer, savouring the last moments before she is to be wed. 

“He is a very lucky man zaldrītsos.” Daemon says, wiping his eyes. “Are you sure this is what you want?” 

“Yes Kepa, I love him.” she says and a blush stains her cheeks.

“Good, you deserve to love and be loved.” Daemon responded.

“I love you too kepa. Thank you for always looking after me. For teaching me what it means to be a true dragon, for never letting me feel like I was not enough for you.” Rhaenyra said, tears in her eyes now, and Daemon did not care that he was now openly weeping. 

“You were always enough Rhaenyra, you were more than we deserved.” Daemon replied. 

“Who comes before the old gods?” Lord Rickcon Stark said, stepping forward 

“Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, princess of the blood, princess of Dragonstone and rider of Syrax comes here to be wed. A woman grown and noble, she comes to beg the blessings of the old gods. Who comes to claim her?” Prince Daemon answered. 

“Cregan of House Stark, heir to Winterfell, a son of winter. Claims her. Who comes with her?” Rickcon answers.

“Daemon of House Targeryen, prince of blood, on behalf of her mother Aemma Arryn, queen consort of the seven kingdoms. Who comes with him?” Daemon says.

“Rickon of House Stark, heir to Winterfell, and his father.” Rickcon says. 

“You look beautiful.” Cregan tells Rhaenyra sincerely, because she is, and she does. They both walk to the front of the heart tree. 

“Will you take this person as your other half?” Daemon and Rickcon ask. 

“We do,” they both say.

“I am yours and you are mine, from this day and for all my days.” The couple recites to each other. There is a mutual swapping of cloaks. The old gods expected the couple to protect each other, so the bride and groom both swapped cloaks, both covered by protecting House Stark and House Targaryen. They join hands and kneel before the heart tree, bowing their heads in submission to the gods. Alicent sees Cregan’s mouth moving furiously in prayer. They stand, and Cregan moves forward, kissing Rhaenyra lightly. 

She turns to look at her husband, and he is smiling at his daughter and her new husband, but Alicent feels nothing but jealousy. Cregan looks at Rhaenyra as if she is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. He loves her, Alicent realises. 

Viserys sat in front of the great hall. Alicent sat beside him, with two empty seats in the middle, with Lord Rickcon and Lady Gillian sitting on the other side. The head table comprises of the Targeryens, the Arryns, the Starks, and the Glovers. Viserys took another large swig of wine, hoping that the taste would help with the nasty pit in his stomach. Alicent sat rigidly, her face pale, and her red gown made her look paler. He sighed and took another swig of his goblet; the sharp taste numbed his hurt. The ridicule from the small folk has only gotten worse; they now put on plays depicting him as Viserys the Terrible. The wedding of his heir is the only thing that has slowed down the insults. 

The herald cleared his throat and announced the newly wed couple. 

“Her Royal Majesty Crown Princess Rhaenyra Targeryen, Princess of Dragonstone, and heir to the throne, and her husband, His Royal Highness Prince Cregan of House Stark.” 

When the door opened, the couple appeared, with Cregan holding Rhaenyra’s arm and the long train of her dress. The whole room stands, and so does the high table. Viserys stumbles a little, but he stands as well. He notices Alicent does not stand until he does. They reach the front and bow to Viserys and then to the Starks. 

Lord Rickcon stands up, and Viserys takes another large sip of wine. 

“My dear children, princess, thank you for the honour of becoming my daughter.” Rickcon says, smiling, the room cheers, “Gillian and I are happy to begin the gift presentation, no pressure.” The room laughs. The Starks give his daughter a gorgeous set of grey falcons. “To remind you it is not just your dragon blood that gives you wings, but your Arryn blood as well.” 

“My dearest children, as you begin your family, Rickcon and I give you this Cregan, a piece of home, to protect your new home.” A magnificent bow was handed to Cregan. Made of weirewood, the room gasped. 

Viserys and Alicent are next, and Viserys gifts his daughter rubies to craft jewels, and he gives Cregan books on old Valaryia. Daemon outdoes him by gifting Rhaenyra the most ostentatious crown he had ever seen.

“It belonged to an empress, and I can think of nobody more deserving than you dear niece.” His brother bragged, and like the Starks, Rhaenyra hugged Daemon tightly. Viserys felt cold as she had barely acknowledged him and his gifts. He continues to drink, hoping it will ease his despair. 

The couple twirl as they take part in their first dance, and Viserys looks on. 

“Perhaps a dance, husband.” Alicent says.

“Let me be.” Viserys snaps, and drinks again.

“Perhaps you should slow down, my love.” Alicent says, smiling, and Viserys snaps.

His anger from his conversation with Rhaenyra this morning, his anger at the constant ridicule he faces from the small folk, all coming back, the wine is not helping him either. 

His daughter had vehemently refused to have Viserys accompany her down the aisle as was customary. She had instead chosen Daemon. Stating that she did not want her new union tainted by a kinslayer. 

“You think yourself important enough to tell me what to do?” Viserys roars, and in his anger he does not realise that the room has come to a stop. The music has now stopped; his daughter and her husband have stopped dancing. 

“You of all people. Why don’t you shut up and do what you do best? Offering comfort to grieving widowers on the night of their wife’s funeral. Lord Wylde has just lost a wife, why not comfort him in hand-me-down gowns?” Viserys continues. He sees Otto rushing to the high table. 

“Your Grace,” Otto says.

“Oh look, Otto Hightower, so aware of everything, but blind to the late-night jaunts of his daughter. How many widowers did she comfort before me, ser? After all, there was no blood on our marriage sheets.” Viserys says, spilling wine, he spills some on Alicent’s dress as well. “Will you deny she walked to the sept with a babe in her belly?”

“Enough, Viserys!” Daemon says, and Viserys wonders when he had gotten next to him. “You are ruining Rhaenyra’s wedding feast.” 

Viserys sobers immediately and looks around the room. Rhaenyra and Cregan are still in the middle of the dance floor, and they are looking at him along with everyone in the room. Rhaenyra does not even look disappointed; it is as if she expected the worst from him. Like he always let her down. 

Viserys feels immediate and intense mortification. Another thing she will not forgive you for, his brain supplies. 

They escorted him to his rooms, with Daemon in tow. The look of disappointment from Cregan was the last thing he saw as he and the Starks escorted the couple out of the hall. 

“Is your goal to ruin everything?” Daemon shouted 

“I did not.” Viserys began.

“You did not do what? Viserys? You ruined the first feast of your daughter’s wedding celebrations, and for what? To ridicule your useless marriage? Nobody asked you to marry a maid! Nobody asked you to kill your former wife, who, might I remind you, shared our blood, making you a kinslayer! You continue to make a fool of our family in front of the realm?”  

“I did not mean to,” Viserys said

“No, you never mean to do anything, Viserys, fourteen forbid you admit your mistakes.” Daemon said, walking towards the door. “Do try not to ruin her celebrations going forward.”

As Cregan shut the door behind him, Rhaenyra sat down on the bed, fingers twisting together. She had let her hair out of the braids she had worn previously, and a black robe covered the rest of her. She was nervous, Cregan realised; in truth, so was he. He may have fucked a few women in the brothels at Wintertown, but that did not make him any less nervous. He loved Rhaenyra; she consumed him so desperately, sometimes he did not know what to do. 

Take it slow with her. His mother’s words ring in his head, and his mouth twists in awkwardness, for he does not want to think of his mother now. 

“We do not have to do anything, firefly.” Cregan says, sitting next to her now, taking one of her smaller hands in his own. She looks at him and squares her shoulders.

“I want to.” Rhaenyra says, and a laugh bursts out of her. “Daemon would be disappointed you wasted his lessons,” she said.

Cregan’s entire body freezes. “What?” he whispers.

“Daemon had one of his female friends from the Street of Slik speak to me about how a wedding night works.” She explains, her eyes blinking innocently. 

His body relaxes, thanking the gods he does not have to kill her beloved uncle. 

“And what did you learn, beloved?” he teases. Rhaenyra has always been a fast learner. 

“Lots.” She stands up and walks to stand in front of him. Taking off the robe.

Cregan had seen Rhaenyra naked before, but this time feels different, maybe because he knows he belongs to her now, in the eyes of the realm. For he had been hers the moment she complimented his eyes. 

“You are the most beautiful creature the gods have ever created,” he says, looking her straight in the eyes. He kneels down, and she leans down to meet him, their lips meeting. He allows her to guide the kiss, allows her tongue to stroke his, smirks when she moans lightly and moans back when she bites his bottom lip. Fisty thing he thinks. 

He removes his mouth from hers, and she whines. However, he quickly appeases her when he kisses her neck, then trails down to her breast, taking one of her nipples into his mouth, and she rewards him with a moan; he looks up and sees that his wife now has her eyes closed. He stands up and lifts her towards the bed. Dropping her onto the feathered mattress. They both begin laughing as she bounces on the bed. 

Cregan removes his shirt and smirks when she stares at his chest, her gaze following the trail of hair on his chest, down to his trousers. He removes that as well and joins her on the bed. He quickly kisses her lips and returns to her breasts, and he must have been a faithful servant in his past life for Rhaenyra’s breasts are his new favourite thing. Cregan sucks on the left nipple and then the right, his hand going down between her legs. She whimpers at the first touch between her thighs, but his thumb is quick to give her a soft swipe, and she shivers in pleasure. He continued his ministrations with his thumb, placing a last kiss on her chest. 

His mouth joins his hand, and she arches off the bed, a loud moan escaping her. He allows his tongue to glide across her cunt, savouring the taste. She is now dripping, and he enjoys the juices, the drink of the gods, he thinks. He keeps this up and Rhaenyra jerks around; he uses his other arm to hold her in place, and focuses on giving her pleasure. She finally settles for putting her hand in his hair, pulling lightly, which brings a moan from him.

“Cregan. Cregan,” she chants breathlessly. “Wha?” she asks. Rhaenyra shakes, and he adds pressure to keep her still. She pulls his hair hard, and he knows she is close to a peak, so he speeds up his assault on her. She scratches at him and peeks. A scream left her mouth. His beard is a little wet from it, as Rhaenyra is wetter than he had ever experienced. He wipes his face on the sheet and looks at her, wrecked and panting. 

Cregan knows the next part will hurt, and he can tell Rhaenyra knows this too, for she tenses up when she sees him remove his small clothes.

“We do not have to.” He begins.

“I want to,” she says. She sits up and reaches her hand up, touching him. He breathes in deeply through his mouth. She tugs at it gently, and he moans, for he has never been harder. 

“It’s warm,” she says, and he huffs a laugh. “Thick and big.” His ego rises at that. 

“Are you ready?” he asks. She nods and lays back down and opens her legs wider. 

He coats himself in her slick and enters her slowly. He sees tears in her eyes and immediately kisses them away. 

“Shhh, I am so sorry, my love.” He stays still when he is all in. Breathing hard at the effort. His thumb goes down into her cunt, and he rubs her clit. Hoping the pleasure will overtake the pain. 

“Move.” she says brokenly. He does as she asks, and he feels her body relax. 

“Faster,” she whispers in his ear, moaning. 

He moves, and the only sounds in the room are the slapping of flesh and the moans they let out. At some point she scratches at his back, and the pain feels so good with the pleasure. 

“Rhaenyra,” he says, for he cannot hold on anymore. 

“Please, my love,” she cries. He pulls her to him, moving faster, harder. 

His hips falter, and he can feel his release coming on. He puts his head in her neck and sobs his release into her. She falls into her own release and becomes even tighter. 

After they both come down, he removes himself, and she winces. He can see the blood and the seed mixed on the sheets. Cregan moves to the other side of the room and gets water and a cloth to clean her up. He wears his trousers and gathers the top sheets and hands them to Lady Amanda, who had been sitting in the outer room along with his aunt and the queen. He nods at them and returns quickly back to Rhaenyra. 

She has put on a lace nightgown and rested sleepily on the bed. He enters the bed and rests his head on her chest; her hand comes into his hair, scratching lightly. 

He does not know when he falls asleep. 

Alicent, Amanda, and Lady Gillian are all walking towards the rooms of the newly wedded couple. As is customary, the married women will be the ones to help Rhaenyra dress for the day, Alicent remembers the day after her wedding, Viserys had sent her to her rooms after the act, and she has been woken up by her aunt and two other women of the Reach. Her aunt had twisted her mouth in judgement as the ladies explained the realm was talking about her bloodless sheets.

Lady Gillian had not been outside the doors last night, for Cregan was her son, but Alicent had been forced to sit outside and listen to the consummation. She remembers wanting to barge in when she had heard the first shriek from inside the room, but Amanda Arryn had stopped her and Lady Alana Glover had looked at her in pity.

Ser Eryk let them into the rooms, and Lady Amanda knocked softly on the door of the inner chambers. Cregan opened the door and put his finger to his lips. The three women entered the rooms and saw that Rhaenyra was still asleep, Cregan walked to the right side of the bed and leaned down, kissing Rhaenyra’s head softly. He ran his hand through her hair, and she hummed. 

“Good morning, light of my life,” he said. 

“Is it morning?” Rhaenyra asked.

“I am afraid so, darling.” Cregan laughed. 

Alicent’s heart clenched at the softness of the scene, her mind is thinking back to the harshness of Viserys’s words at the feast last night. Why does Rhaenyra get the handsome, caring husband?

He kissed her on the cheek now, and Rhaenyra smiled at him. “I’ll see you soon, my love.” He stood up to his full height and stopped to kiss his mother and new aunt by marriage. 

“Sweetheart,” Gillian says. “I have brought you a pain draught.” She sits on the bed with Rhaenyra now, petting her head. Rhaenyra is smiling up at the older woman as she brings the bottle to her lips. 

“Thank you, Mama,” Rhaenyra says, and Gillian beams at her, kissing her head. 

Alicent feels useless as Amanda and Gillian fuss around Rhaenyra, brushing her hair, picking out an Arryn blue dress for the day,  laughing with her. She feels like an interloper, and she feels jealous. It was always Rhaenyra.

Leana had always been jealous of Rhaenyra, not because she was a princess and Leana was not, not because she was beautiful, no, it was because she had Syrax. Rhaenyra’s dragon had hatched in the cradle, and she was the youngest dragon rider in history. Leana had finally claimed Vhagar at one and five; she too was now a dragon rider.

Now, she had decided that she wanted to be married to Daemon. Laena did not understand Rhaenyra. Why would she choose a wolf over a dragon-riding prince? 

She had flirted with Daemon during the feast last night before the king had his outburst, but Daemon was not interested. He told her outright that he had no intention of marrying again after being freed from his bronze bitch. But Laena would not be deterred; she would have her two dragons. One more dragon than Rhaenyra.

The following morning was the first day of the tourney. When Leana got to the pit, Rhaenyra was waving little Stark banners. Laena was upset that she could not sit next to Daemon, for the prince was sitting next to his niece and brother. 

Cregan Stark surprised Leana and the rest of the gathered crowd as he rode up to them all decked out in leather armour.

“Light of my life, would you do me the honour,” Cregan said, a boyish and charming smile on his face, and Leana could see all the young women swoon.

“Of course, my love, fight well,” Rhaenyra said, giving her husband her favour and blowing him a kiss.

The tourney went ahead, and Leana and others had clearly underestimated the new prince. Cregan was good. He was very good, agile, and fast, powerful, and swift. He cut through his opponents like butter. 

Then it finally came down to Cregan and Gwyane Hightower, Leana had to laugh. The battle for the crown. 

The fight was tense, and Leana could see the tension on everyone’s face, everyone except Rhaenyra, she looked amused more than anything. This was like a joke to her, and as Leana looked closely, Gwyane was a very skilled fighter, but it seemed like Cregan was playing with him; he would weave and duck like it was merely a training exercise. The duo seemed to exchange words with each other, and Leana wanted to know what was being said. Leana watched as the duo’s swords continued to clash about. After some time, it seemed like Cregan finally had enough and disarmed Gwyane and knocked him to the ground harshly. The Hightower knight screamed, and when he fell and the queen’s face looked like it wanted to melt off.

“That cannot be good,” her father said.

“I’d wager he’s broken his back.” Daemon said. 

Maesters hurried to carry the knight, with the queen and her father going with them. 

The newly married prince began walking towards the steps to the royal box. Rhaenyra ran down to meet him, and she jumped into his arms, kissing him fiercely, as he crowned her queen of love and beauty. 

Laena ignored the couple; instead, she looked at the laughing Prince Daemon. I am going to marry you, she thought, whether you want to or not. 

Chapter Text

Cregan and Rhaenyra had to cut their honeymoon short, and this made him furious. The king had written to his heir, begging her to come to kingslanding immediately. Apparently, there had been an issue between Prince Daemon and Lady Laena Velaryon. Cregan knew how much Daemon meant to Rhaenyra, so he took a deep breath and tried to smile as his wife guided Syrax to land in the pit. 

“Rhaenyra!” the king said, his smile wide. Rhaenyra allowed the man to hug her, but she did not return the embrace, merely patting him on his back. 

“Father,” his wife said, “what happened?” 

The king guided them to the carriage, and when the doors had been closed, he explained. 

Apparently Lady Laena and prince Daemon had been caught abed together, and the lady’s family demanded that the rogue prince marry the Velaryon girl, but the prince declined, saying he did not even know how Laena had ended up in his bed, as he had been alone in his rooms drinking. 

The king, hoping to avoid a war, had called for the one person Daemon listened to. Rhaenyra.

When the carriage arrived at the keep, Cregan followed his wife as she took fast steps to her uncle’s rooms.

“Rhaenyra?” Daemon said bewildered.

“What happened?” Rhaenyra asked as Cregan made sure that the door was clear. He nodded to his two companions that it was, and Daemon sighed. 

“Someone drugged me.” Daemon said. He had an angry look in his eyes, and Cregan could not blame him, for if he had been drugged, then he too would be angry. “Mysaria drugged me, and when I woke up, I was being accused of taking Laena’s maidenhead. Viserys, as always, refused to believe me.”

“Where is Mysaria now?” Rhaenyra asked.

“I brought her to the keep, but the king said I paid her to lie, so that I could avoid taking responsibility for my actions.” Daemon scoffed. 

“Why did your former paramour drug you?” Cregan asked 

“Oh, Corlys and Laena got to her, and then they killed her..” Daemon laughed.

“I will not be forced to endure another wife.” Daemon said. “I am going to kill Corlys and his daughter and then I am going to flee. I’ll await my pardon when you are queen.” 

“I think you should marry her.” Rhaenyra said, and both men turned to look at her. Cregan in confusion and Daemon in betrayal.

“Please listen.” Rhaenyra said. “You obviously want revenge. What better revenge than to take Driftmark as yours?” 

“What?” Daemon asked 

“Laenor is queer and, frankly, no child will come from him; Corlys is old, who’s saying he does not drop dead soon? Once Laena bears you a child, they will be yours, Targeryens. They will be Corlys’s only available heir.  Don’t just kill them; take their dynasty and rename it as your own.” Rhaenyra said, taking a sip of the wine Daemon had been drinking. 

“Take their dynasty?” Daemon repeated.

“Not to mention the dowry will be massive.” Cregan said. “You could use it to build something of your own.” 

“Names are what history remembers, kepa. Make sure it is yours and not theirs,”  Rhaenyra said, smiling sinisterly. 

Rhaenyra could tell that Laena was over the moon when her uncle had agreed to marry her; the girl, unlike her father, did this because she was genuinely in love with Daemon. Corlys had done it because he was a greedy twat, and Rhaenyra looked forward to the day he died. 

The Velaryons had tried to demand the hand of Rhaenyra’s heir in marriage. If her uncle had a daughter with the girl, Rhaenyra would make sure that the girl grew up under Rhaenyra’s care and not Laena’s. She’d allow a daughter to be queen because she loved Daemon dearly. But she’d suffer no fools. 

Her father was elated that the potential war had been avoided and had praised Rhaenyra loudly and for all to hear. Daemon had demanded that the wedding take place immediately, so the queen had organised a small feast. Rhaenyra noted that Laena and Alicent had become bosom friends during her time away, and she honestly had to laugh at the absurdity. 

Laena had expected to marry Daemon in the Valyrian way, after all Rhaenyra and Cregan had married that way, and Daemon had made his dislike for the seven well known. But her uncle had said he would rather be chewed alive by Caraxes than share his blood with Laena. Normally Rhaenyra would feel for the Velaryon lady, but she had forced herself onto a man known to despise marriage. What did she expect?

Three moons later. 

Viserys stood on the deck of the ship as the waves moved them closer to Dragonstone. Rhaenyra’s eighteenth nameday was upon them, and she had insisted on throwing herself a feast on Dragonstone. The heir to the throne had left on her honeymoon after the rushed wedding of Daemon and Laena. 

His brother had consummated the marriage and then he had also left for God knows where, leaving Laena alone in the capital. Rhaenys had grumbled, but there was nothing Viserys could do. His brother had done nothing that warranted scrutiny. In fact, he was far more respectful to Laena than Viserys had expected, though granted he ignored the girl, treating her like a pariah. 

Viserys shook his head and looked towards his wife. Alicent was pregnant, five moons, but she had still insisted on attending Rhaenyra’s nameday celebrations. His wife looked pale; she was holding onto one of her ladies and chatting with Laena, the two having become fast friends. Viserys hoped maybe Rhaenyra could join the group — something to lure her back to the capital.  

Dragonstone looked beautiful, Viserys had not been to the island since he had become king, the guards wore a black cloak with a red dragon and wolf on it, and Viserys smiled, for that was the insignia that Rhaenyra had designed for after her wedding. The Seal of the Dragonwolf she had dubbed it. 

“Brother,” Daemon said, which shocked Viserys.

“Daemon!” Viserys yelped. “Where have you been?” 

“Traveling.” Daemon answered, shrugging his shoulders.

“You abandoned your wife,” Viserys accused.

“Her father is a well-known traveller. Laena should know by now, some men crave adventure.” Daemon answered. 

Viserys nodded, for what could he say to that? His brother was right. People knew the Sea Snake well because of its adventures. 

Rhaenyra was glowing when he saw her. It had been four moons since her wedding, and Viserys thought that married life suited her. The feast that had been arranged was a small one, with the royals and Amanda Aryn the only ones in attendance. 

“Thank you all for coming.” Rhaenyra stood up and said. “I wanted you all present for this announcement.” Cregan looked at Rhaenyra, and he stood up as well. Viserys looked around the table and saw that only Daemon and Amanda seemed to know what was going on; their eyes looked a little misty. 

“During our stay in Winterfell. Rhaenyra discovered she is with child.” Cregan announced, and Viserys felt blood rush to his ears. 

A child? His heir was pregnant? 

Alicent stared as Cregan handed Rhaenyra another piece of the apple he had been cutting up for her. The princess was now in her eighth month of pregnancy, and everyone treated her like she was the mother come again. 

Even her husband, who had mostly ignored her during her other pregnancies and this one. Was catering to the princess. The King had ordered a servant to follow his daughter around with a feathered pillow, because she had complained about the softness of a pillow once. 

Alicent’s stomach twisted in jealousy as Cregan kissed his wife after handing her the last apple slice. The servants and ladies of the court raved about the prince consort. 

“Did you hear? He learned to bake lemon tarts for her. Bakes them fresh for her and the babes.” 

“He combs and braids her hair himself.”

“I saw him designing a dress for her.” 

“I saw him rubbing her feet when I went to deliver her bathwater.” 

Cregan had even built a contraption between two trees that swayed. The princess of Dragonstone enjoyed lying there and sleeping. That was where she was now, as Alicent watched on from the other side of the garden. 

“Your Grace, I wanted to know if I could expect a betrothal soon?” Patricia asked. She was the oldest of Alicent’s ladies.

“I am still working on it, but the pregnancy.” Alicent began.

“The princess is also pregnant, with twins, whilst sitting on the small council. Yet she had married off four of her five ladies in three moons.” Patricia snapped. “I am nearing twenty and yet you have not even found me a suitor. Let me know if you are not capable so that I may return to the arbour.” Patricia walked away then in anger. 

“How rude.” Laena muttered. 

Yes, Alicent thought, how rude. 

Rhaenyra was the last person to arrive at the family dinner Viserys insisted on having. 

“Are we to always wait on you?” Princess Rhaenys snapped at Rhaenyra. Alicent looked on with pity. Rhaenys was upset that Rhaenyra would not help the Velaryons rein her uncle in. The man came to the Red Keep, once a moon to fuck Laena, and then he left. Rhaenys, Laena and Alicent had tried to get Rhaenyra to understand that she needed to do something, but the princess of Dragonstone had simply told them she was not her uncle’s keeper and that it was Laena’s job to speak to her husband. 

“Lady Patricia asked me if she could become one of my ladies; that is why I am late.” Rhaenyra said. 

Alicent’s breath hitched.

“She is one of the queen’s ladies.” Otto yelled.

“Yes she is, she has been Alicent’s lady for five years now, and yet not one suitor. The lady is rightly concerned.” Rhaenyra said. 

“Alicent, surely you know it is your duty to marry off your ladies.” Viserys snapped. The table turned to look at her then.

“Never fret, I have set her up with the heir to Tarley,” Rhaenyra said nonchalantly. 

“You mustn’t overwork yourself, my dear.” Viserys said, patting her hand. 

Her father looked at her venomously, and Alicent shrank back.

Daemon sat outside of Rhaenyra’s inner rooms as the sounds from her birthing bed alarmed him. She had been in there for a full day.  The screams broke something in him, and even the wine he had been drinking could not settle his nerves. 

Gillian, Amanda and Cregan were all in there with her. The northerners had brought healers from the north to tend to the princess, with Rhaenyra not wanting any Maester near her. 

Viserys was also sitting with him, along with Rickcon, his brother, clenched the arm of his chair with a death grip. Ironically, the queen was also on the birthing bed, but his brother had been by his daughter’s side. 

Gillian and Amanda suddenly came out of the rooms, smiling, and the three men stood up.

“Cregan will be out shortly. But Rhaenyra is well.” Gillian said. They all breathed a sigh of relief, waiting for Cregan to come and allow them into the room. 

When they finally entered, Rhaenyra was sat, upright on the bed, a mountain of pillows behind her. His niece was holding two bundles in her arms, smiling wetly. What shocked Daemon was the third bundle that Cregan was holding. 

“Triplets?” Viserys croaked out.

“Yes,” Cregan said, his eyes alight with joy. 

“This is my heir, and our firstborn. Named after the first king of our dynasty and my kepa that I never got to meet, and my husband, Aegon Cregan.” Rhaenyra said, she handed the little boy to Gillian and Daemon looked, he had silver curls and his eyes were closed, but Daemon wagered they were lilac like his nieces.

“This is our second son, heir to winter. Named for the man who made me who I am, Rickcon Aerion,” Cregan said, and he handed the bundle to his father. Rickcon was weeping openly, thanking his son and daughter by law for the honour. 

Rhaenyra smiled then and looked at Daemon, her eyes getting misty. She gestured for him to come forward, and he did. She handed him the last bundle. 

“This is Daemion Eddard, named for my kepa, the one who taught me what it truly means to have blood of the dragon.” Rhaenyra said, and Daemon looked down at the little lad. He had curly silver hair, but with black streaks, and when he opened his eyes, Daemon gasped, for one was silver and one was purple. 

Daemon knelt down and wept, embracing his niece, making sure not to crush her. 

“Thank you, Rhaenyra, thank you!” He wept. 

Aegon Cregan, Rickcon Aerion and Daemion Eddard. The names kept playing on a loop in Viserys’s head as he walked to his chambers and shut the door. His daughter had birthed three sons in one go, and she had honoured everyone except him. Even his brother Aegon, whom she had never met, had been honoured. Would not Viserys have been a fine name for her third son? But she had chosen instead to honour Daemon. 

Was it not enough that she showed more care to Daemon than to him? Why must she make him suffer so? 

His door was opened, and Ser Harold burst in. 

“Your Grace, the queen has birthed a son.”

Viserys allowed his feet to carry him to Alicent’s chamber. When he got there, rather than the elation he expected to see on Otto’s face, he saw trepidation. 

“What is it?” He asked the Reach man. 

“The boy has grey-scale.” Melios said after sometime, breaking the silence. 

“Greyscale?” Viserys parroted 

“Yes, Your Grace. It is all over his face.” The old maester explained that they could remove it, but he was afraid the prince would be disfigured for life. 

“Do it. Keep it from spreading.” Viserys said, walking away. 

“Your grace, the boy needs a name.” Otto said.

“Aemond. Name it Aemond.” 

Alicent lay still on the bed, even days after her labour still left her drained. The maids fluttered about, and she wished that the pain she was feeling would stop. Nobody had let her see her new son, the only she had been told was that the king had named him Aemond. Alicent was perplexed by this, for her father had said he’d convince the king to name him after the old king. 

Otto entered her rooms and waved his hands, dismissing the maids. He waited for the door to shut before beginning to speak.

“Your son is disfigured, and the princess has birthed three sons, three healthy sons.” Otto raged. “Do you know what else? While you drowned in dream wine. The princesses’ sons claimed three grown dragons. Vermitor claimed by her eldest, Dreamfyre claimed by her second son, and her third son claimed Cannibal. Her first son, Aegon!” 

Alicent’s mouth twisted. “Aegon?” 

“Yes Aegon! Aegon Cregan, after her uncle and her husband!” Otto yelled. “Yet all you have is a disfigured son! Grey Scale Alicent, the boy was born with Grey Scale. The realm is singing her praises while they say that your womb is cursed!!” 

Her father did not even wait for her to respond; he simply walked out, slamming the door. 

How dare Rhaenyra! How dare she name her son after her firstborn? Her pride and joy! 

She shouted for a maid.

“Summon the princess to me!” she yelled. 

“The princess is not to be disturbed,” the maid replied fearfully.

“Who said so?” Alicent screeched. 

“The king.” 

Alicent made her way towards the heir's rooms that Rhaenyra had taken. Her legs shook, but she would confront that wench. How dare she! After all Alicent had done for her! Alicent pushed the guard out of the way with surprising strength, and she entered the princesses’ room. Had she taken a moment to survey her surroundings, she would have seen that the king, the small council, the Starks, Amanda Arryn, and the Velaryon were there. But in all her righteous angry she did not. 

“How dare you?” she yelled. “You spoiled, arrogant wench! Aegon was my son’s name! My son. The king’s rightful heir! Not you!” Alicent’s chest was heaving, and Rhaenyra’s lack of response made her angrier. The princess was reclining on her bed, her husband by her side, looking at Alicent as if she were crazy. 

“Are you done?” Rhaenyra asked and when Alicent looked at her in confusion, she continued. “Are you done barking like a deranged dog?” 

The insult took Alicent by surprise, and she stepped back, finally registering the audience in the room. 

“Ah, little Hightower, finally her and her father revealed her traitorous plans.” Prince Daemon sneered. 

“I…” Alicent stammered.

“I think it is best for you to leave Alicent. My daughter and grandsons do not need you here,” the king said, looking at her in anger. 

Eight years later. 

Rhaenyra and her family had moved to Dragonstone full time after the birth of the triplets. In the eight years since, two daughters had joined her sons. Visenya Gillan and Aemma Lysa. The girls were fully Valyrian looking; the only thing they got from the Stark side of their family was their curls, and Aemma’s silver eyes. The little princesses, like their brothers, had bonded with dragons upon their birth. Visenya had claimed Sliverwing and Aemma had claimed Greyghost. 

“Muna!” Aegon shouted out. Her eldest son was always her shadow. Cregan joked Aegon wanted to live in Rhaenyra’s skin. “A letter from kingslanding.” Her son said, handing her the letter with the king’s sigil on it. 

“What is it, Muna?” Aegon asked.

“Laenor Velaryon is dead.” Rhaenyra answered her eldest boy.

“Oh, poor Baelon.” Aegon said. 

The journey to Driftmark was a swift one, and Rhaenyra and her family arrived after the king. When she looked at her father, she smiled when she saw sadness in his eyes. They had made it known that since he refused to do something about Alicent’s words that night, they would not return to the capital. Daemon had practically said the same thing, staying on Dragonstone and on the Stepstones. Daemion would inherit the island and become lord paramount of the narrow seas, and it looked like she had been right; her cousin was the next heir to the sea snake could rely on. 

Unfortunately for Alicent’s sons, Daemon’s son had claimed the hatchling in the dragon pit, the boy naming the golden dragon Taraxes after the god and to match with his kepa. Baelon loved Daemon, and he worshiped the ground Daemon walked on. Rhaenyra had heard multiple times that Laena and Rhaenys had complained about the lack of time Baelon spent on Driftmark. But nobody could tell a prince what to do with his son, especially a dragon-riding one. 

“Uēpkta mandia!” Baelon yelled as she walked into the halls of the sea snake. 

Baelon loved Rhaenyra, and she loved the little boy just as much. Older sister, that is what he called her — and Rhaenyra’s heart broke, for she remembered another Baelon. 

“Valonqar!” she said to the boy cradling him. Laenor had been Baelon’s favourite Velaryon, so Rhaenyra was not surprised that he had taken his death hard.

Her children quickly crowded around Baelon, hugging him. 

“Our condolences.” Cregan said as they walked to Rhaenys and Corlys. The sea snake nodded, and Rhaenyra and Cregan moved to acknowledge the king and his family. 

Rhaenyra had forgotten that Aemond was completely disfigured. The boy's entire right side was covered in scars, and he had lost an eye. 

“Monster of the high tower,” the small folk called him. Viserys had sent him to Oldtown to be fostered, but everyone knew the truth; the king could not stand to look at the boy. Alyrie, the girl that Alicent had borne, was terribly plain looking. The girl had brown hair and brown eyes. Had her mother not insisted on dressing her in jewels, she would have looked like every commoner in the street. Dearon, her last child, was mute, having lost his tongue at birth to an infection. 

“Father,” she said to the king.

“Rhaenyra!” the king said, hugging her. 

“I see there has still been miraculous healing for Ser Otto?” Rhaenyra said, pretending to be interested. 

“No,” Viserys said. “I would like to speak with you about that.” 

Otto Hightower had been crippled on the return trip of Prince Aemond back to the capital he had been kidnapped by supposed bandits, and he had been beaten and starved for moons, before the bandits threw him from a tower. In truth, it was Cregan and her husband had preened for moons, he had truly dedicated his time to making the greens lives miserable!

He had luckily been found by two farmers, who had returned him to kingslanding. But the man had lost all function in his legs. 

She shook herself out of her thoughts and smiled at her father’s children. Before turning to Daemon and Laena.

“My deepest condolences, cousin.” Rhaenyra said to the girl. The bright, bubbly girl who had been thrilled to be married to a prince was gone. Unlike Rhea Royce, Laena had actually loved Daemon, and she had thought he'd grow to love her too, but he hadn't, and his disinterest, even after she had given him a son, was slowly draining her. 

Shame. Rhaenyra looked at Alicent and Laena both, and she sighed. If she were a better person, she’d feel bad. But she was not a better person.