Note:- I'm heavily borrowing OC's from Ramzes. Some of the story might change because of that. All credit is hers, for her characters. BTW, the canon of this story is slightly skewed. Rhaenyra was already crowned when Aegon II offered her his terms. That said, reviews are welcome.

'Monster, monster, GET OUT!' Viserys was staring at his mother's bedchamber door, eyes wide. Mother had been yelling for hours, and Viserys couldn't sleep. He was scared of monsters, and it sounded like Mother was, too. He shook his head. He was a big boy now, almost six, and monsters were for children.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Aegon and ran over to him. 'Aegon!' Viserys exclaimed. 'Aegon, what happened?' His brother started, and then looked at him. 'Viserys,' he sighed. 'Vis, do you remember Father telling us that- Viserys cut him off. 'We're going to have a sister!' he gushed, jumping excitedly. 'Has she come?'

'No,' replied Aegon. 'Oh,' Viserys visibly deflated. Aegon smiled slightly. 'It is she who is trying to get out here.' He explained, with all the wisdom of an eight-year-old. 'Oh,' breathed Viserys again. His features had confusion etched on them.

'But, Aegon?' he asked. 'Our sister isn't a monster, right? She's a babe, just like Alyssa was.' Aegon looked exasperated, rolling his eyes. 'Well, I don't know,' he huffed. Jacaerys laughed. Both Aegon and Viserys turned at his entrance 'Yes, Viserys, she is a babe. She trying to come into the world and mother is helping her.' Jace winked at Viserys. 'As I recall, she called both you and Aegon the same when you were born…' Aegon stormed off, red faced. Viserys colored. 'I am NOT a monster!,' he yelled. 'No,' confirmed Jace. 'Neither is she.'

Viserys grinned. He had an idea. 'Do you think my dragon would hatch if I sang a song to it?' he asked. 'I don't know, Vis,' replied Jace. 'Mayhaps.' As Jacaerys left for his lesson, he heard his brother's treble voice raised in song, 'Mounted on wings, shielded by fire, the Dragonlords conquered the Realm…'

Viserys held his swirly black dragon egg in his hand. He was singing to it with all his might, and was listening intently for a crack. The dragon wasn't hatching, though, and Viserys had had enough of singing. Besides, Mother was still yelling, but the babe wasn't coming out either. Viserys felt a thrill of fear run down his spine. His sister had chosen a bad time to come home, he thought. Almost as if it were a dream, he remembered a rolled up parchment, Mother screaming, and a pool of red, red blood…

Alicent glared at the shaking servant. 'What is it?' It was the middle of the night, and she really did not appreciate being woken up just yet. 'Your G-Grace, Ser Ste-Steffon Darklyn, and he '-'This is a matter for the Kingsguard, not I,' interjected Alicent. 'Oh, no,' cut in a sardonic voice, 'It is ours too. Most certainly.'

At the sight of the King, the servant scurried away. Alicent looked at her son. 'What did Steffon Darklyn do?' she asked. 'He deserted. Took the Conciliator's crown with him,' her son bit out with characteristic bluntness. The traitors have another in their number, Alicent thought.

For traitors they were, to the last. Ser Tyland Lannister had pointed out that the Lords who had sworn fealty to Rhaenyra all those years ago were almost all dead, to a man. The Master of Laws, old Ironrod, cited the precedents of the Great Council of 101, which had crowned Viserys King, disregarding any woman. Rhaenyra must be brought to her knees.

Alicent was well prepared for the coming days, while the other woman was not. She had already sent Aemond and Vhagar to Storm's End, to woo both Lord Baratheon's alliance and his daughter. Viserys's wishes mattered little here, the safety of the Realm was more important. Women cannot be trusted to rule, as the Old King had so wisely judged. And this woman's heirs were bastards, after all. Steffon Darklyn would soon learn the error of his ways, reflected Alicent.

If Rhaenyra ascends the throne, Otto Hightower mused, Daemon Targaryen would be King in all but name. Neither Otto, nor his children, nor their children would be spared. From Alicent to little Maelor, they would all have been slaughtered, or, at the very least, lost their power. This instinct for self-preservation was what made Otto crown Aegon in Rhaenyra's stead. He sighed. It had turned into a mess of the highest order. Though Alicent did not seem to take Ser Steffon Darklyn's defection particularly hard, save for declaring him a traitor and setting a price on his head, Otto feared what it might mean. Perhaps, Rhaenyra might have secret supporters inside the Red Keep itself. For all her vices, she was bold, daring and defiant, and had friends in high places. Otto had no doubt that, circumstances being as they were, the Realm would be plunged into war…

Queen Rhaenyra stood tall, eyes blazing, voice raised in a shout. 'He dares! He dares to make a proclamation declaring me Princess of Dragonstone and naught more?' Grand Maester Orwyle quaked. 'Your Grace, His Grace King Aegon'- 'Prince Aegon,' corrected Prince Daemon. Without pausing, the Maester continued,' Has declared your son Jacaerys the Heir to Dragonstone, and Lucerys the Heir to Driftmark. Princes Aegon and Viserys are offered honored positions at court'-

The Queen raised a hand imperiously. 'Tell me, good Maester,' she commanded. 'Tell me who my father declared his heir. Was it Aegon?' 'No, Your Grace,' the Maester replied. 'King Viserys had declared you as his heir. But the precedents'- Queen Rhaenyra's voice rose, drowning the Maester's.

'Dowager Queen Alicent and her father Ser Otto are traitors and rebels, for they took up arms against my father's rightful heir. As for my half-brothers, and my sweet sister Helaena, they have been led astray by the counsel of evil men. Let them come here to Dragonstone, bend the knee, and ask for my forgiveness, and I shall gladly spare them and take them back into my heart, for they are my own blood and no man or woman is so accursed as the kinslayer. Here I stand, crowned and anointed, the true Queen of Westeros, my father's heir.'

No man is so accursed as the kinslayer. The words echoed in Erryk Cargyll's mind, as he searched the sea of faces for his brother. Arryk's familiar face reflected back exactly what Erryk was thinking, and there was acceptance in his warm brown eyes. Brothers by blood though they were, they were sworn to their duty. And they would die by their oath.

Once Aegon's emissaries were gone, Rhaenyra gave full vent to her fury. 'They killed my daughter, murdered her, and they want my sons too!' she roared. 'They will not take the Throne, my rightful Throne from me! They stole my crown and butchered my daughter and they shall answer for it.' So the war of pens and ravens began.

Swiftly, she called forth Daemon, Jace, Luke, her retainers, and her bannermen. 'As an instrument of conquest, our army leaves much to be desired,' quipped Daemon sourly. Indeed, every visible symbol of legitimacy was the Usurper's, who lived in the Red Keep. 'We do have some advantages,' countered Rhaenyra. 'Lord Velaryon's fleet for one. Your experience with warfare, Daemon. And we have dragons.' 'As does Aegon,' rebuffed Lord Staunton. 'We have more,' replied Princess Rhaenys. 'Larger and stronger, but for Vhagar.' Aye, they did. At any cost, Rhaenyra resolved, she would fight for the Throne, and win it.