As always, thanks for every review the story got!

Since this story was started before The World of Ice and Fire was released, it still goes by my non-canon ideas, including the identity of Daemon's wife who in this story isn't Rohanne of Tyrosh.

Foreign Queen

First Signs

The coronation was swift and quite lacking in grandeur, causing more than one whisper in the Red Keep and the streets of King's Landing. Many regretted this omen for a reign lacking the pomp of Aegon's court but many more yet were simply relieved that they had ended up with a king who clearly meant to get some work done for the realm and not only his own vanity.

The problems, though, did not even wait for the ceremony to be over.

"What's this noise?" Daena Targaryen asked, sniffing disdainfully at the flood of builders and woodworkers streaming steadily over the usually empty drawbridge to the Maegor's Holdfast.

"The builders and carpenters," Myriah replied. "Yes, my king was as thoughtful as to provide bigger hearths for my needs."

The Princess sniffed. "You're determined to bring Dorne here, it seems," she said. The omission of the official address did not escape the attention of the courtiers and ladies gathered to attend them. It was true that Myriah had not been crowned yet – it would happen in less than a week, on a joint event with Daeron's own coronation – but in deed, she was the Queen. Instead, Daena kept treating her as if she was still the Princess of Dragonstone and thus, somewhat equal to her. If she had ever considered Myriah equal, that was it. Everyone knew that Daena had adored her brother Daeron and took all his sentiments. All of them.

"And a good thing it is that the King allows it," an older woman cut in. Alaena Targaryen, newly released after twelve years of imprisonment, still had all her wits and will about her. She had started showing her support for Daeron and Myriah immediately after their arrival. "It's always so good to see a king and queen living in harmony, with no one between them."

Daena did not quite blush but she looked slightly uncomfortable. Myriah wondered whether she regretted her admittedly regrettable choice of pursuing an affair with Aegon. It might have cost her the Iron Throne, after all.

The court was already dividing to factions, just like it had been in Aegon's time.

"It is indeed," Aelinor said in an obvious attempt to soothe the tension. Then, she looked at her mother and smiled. "You know what Lelia told me? You know has the second sight." She paused for a more dramatic effect. "She told me that one day, I'd reign over the heart of a king."

"As if," Baelor muttered from his place at a near table where he leafed through an old book of armoury. "And besides, I bet she didn't say it."

"She did," Daenerys broke in. "I was there and heard her. She did say it."

"And I asked, "Over the what of a king?" Aelinor provided. She and Baelor looked at each other and grinned cordially.

Myriah felt sick to her stomach. Her paleness made the women rush to stoke the fire and Daena smile contemptuously but at the moment, she did not care. In the almost one year long separation, her daughter had grown up, just like Baelor. For all her dislike and resentment of Aegon, he had not proven one of her worst fears wrong – he had not left her children uneducated. Aelinor was well-versed in her studies, gracious, showing regal bearing and tact already and beneath them, a glimpse of an iron will. It was too early to say but she might be possessed of the right character to be queen. It was the king that was the problem… With time, Myriah had accepted many of the peculiarities of the dragons but marrying brother to sister – her own children to one another – was something that still made her reel. In five or six years, Aelinor would be considered old enough to wed. Baelor should take a wife before that, Myriah thought and her eyes were drawn to Lyselle, Alaena's pale, shy daughter, still unaccustomed to being around people after spending her entire life imprisoned under Aegon's orders.

But it wasn't Baelor's wedding that became the most pressing matter.

A few weeks after the coronation, things started settling down. Their new everyday life was about to begin. Myriah had worked out a schedule that might fit her just fine, despite her fears that their new responsibilities would mean that she would see Daeron and the children even more rarely than before. For now, she included some additional hours to oversee Aelinor and Maekar's studies, just to make sure that there were no lapses in their education.

"Did you find something?" Daeron asked one night, amused, as he rubbed her hands and feet to prevent an eventual return of her spells. "Or did you remember all the things you have forgotten since you were their age?"

"Why?" she asked, closing her eyes. "I only found Maekar's ability to concentrate," she said after a while. "He's able to keep going as if he has forgotten that I'm right there."

"That's a good thing," Daeron said, although the lack of the unconscious purring that she usually met the massage session with showed him that she did not share this opinion. "Isn't it?"

Myriah opened her eyes and looked at him. "I am not sure." Her voice sounded terribly small. "He's only nine, Daeron, and this clearness of purpose scares me."

She didn't dare mention her other fear, the one that had woken to life long before she had felt her youngest moving in her womb – the terror that Maekar would never be happy. She was now relieved of her panicky scare that he might be possessed of the Targaryen madness – but her inability of carrying her children to term made her other fears for him pierce more deeply. His life might be one of blood, tears and torment, she heard Serenei of Lys in her head as she had heard her many times. And it had been one long before the accident. It had been so since the moment Aegon had dragged him out of their home all the way to the capitol as a measure of punishment for them. Maybe even before. Now, he had more difficulties having them in his life for constantly. Aelinor's swift adjustment only made the difference more evident. Mentioning it might open the old rift between them, the bitterness they had barely managed to leave behind, the accusations they had been throwing at each other with their behavior if not words… She was not ready to risk it.

Daeroх reached for more oil and started working on her ankles. "That was probably his way to get used to his new circumstances," he said. "And you know he's always liked having rules set and knowing the limit of what he was allowed to."

"Too bad that so many others don't share the sentiment," she muttered and he smiled before realizing that she was being serious.

One of the first projects the new Queen had undertaken was to bring to life an old idea that had been close to Queen Naerys' heart: an asylum for blind people. Her goodmother had enlisted Princess Elaena's help for the financial part and invited a group of famous builders to make and execute the plans. With her death, though, King Aegon had cut the whole enterprise off, so the barely laid foundation stood in the chosen spot near the sea, bare and unfinished, as dead as Naerys.

"The furniture should be nailed to the walls and floors," Rhaena said. "So they can learn their way around it. It can be done."

Myriah nodded. The success of their asylum for victims of the grey plague had instilled her with confidence that such institutions could be made to function in the long run. "Queen Naerys would have been so happy to see that we got the project up again," she said. "In less than a year, it can be running already. Yes?"

This "yes" was not addressed at Rhaena but Lelia who had just entered. "Daemon Targaryen wishes to speak to you, my lady," she said. Her voice was carefully neutral, her face bland but Myriah caught the slight shade of dislike her nursemaid was trying to hide. Lelia had disliked Daemon since the day of his birth and Daena – even before that. No one who worshipped the Young Dragon could merit Lelia's liking or even her indifference.

"To me?" the Queen asked, surprised. The hostility between Daena and herself had kept the boy mostly out of her sight, unlike Elaena's children who felt at home in her chambers, be it her old ones or the ones she occupied now in Maegor's Holdfast. She looked at Rhaena who shrugged.

"I have no idea," she said. Myriah's ladies immediately started whispering.

"Bring him in," the Queen told Lelia, still bewildered, trying to ignore the low voices all around the room.

When Daemon Blackfyre, as he wanted to be called, stood on the threshold, Myriah could not help but notice just how grown up and good-looking he was. One day, he'd be a handsome man. She smiled at seeing the panic that crossed his face when he realized that he had found himself in a hall full of women.

One day, indeed. Some good six or seven years later.

The boy braced himself, crossed the chamber and bent the knee to Myriah. He even managed to hide the resentment she had seen flashing in his eyes since their return. No doubt he disliked having to bow to the new Dornish queen. "Your Grace," he said.

"Ser Daemon," she replied. "Please take a seat."

He did so, avoiding her eyes. She asked a few polite questions about him, waiting for him to get to the purpose of his coming here. Which he did, with directness that, oddly enough, reminded her of Baelor. "I heard that they are preparing Silviana Reyne for her journey to King's Landing."

"Yes," Myriah confirmed, alerted. What did he mean by this? He hadn't come to her just to have this rumour confirmed, surely! "I've heard that she's a very lovely girl."

He nodded. "So have I," he confirmed, giving her a winning smile. "To my woe, the loveliest lady in Westeros is already wed and crowned. But yes, they say she's beautiful."

Myriah was too practiced in court games to let her shock show but inside, she was fuming. This went beyond the empty obligatory praises courtiers paid their Queen. This boy was intentionally using his charm on her – and she had to admit that it was working.

"I don't want to wed her," he said just when Myriah realized that those would be his next words.

"What are you going to do about Daemon?" Myriah asked as soon as they were alone.

The undertone in her voice made Daeron sigh and rub his forehead with a tired hand. "Not you too. It was bad enough that the whole castle is talking about that. Did he really say that he wanted to wed Daenerys?"

"Yes," Myriah said. "He even asked me to help him with you."

Daeron groaned. The stirring pot of trouble was filling steadily. "I'll smooth the things with the Reynes," he said. "Daemon will wed her, have no doubt."

"It isn't enough."

He looked up from his place on the settee. Myriah was pacing before the fireplace, her eyebrows knitted together, her eyes glittering with alert. "Fine," he said. "Say what you will."

"I think you should send him away," she said. "Well, the other two as well, although I won't mind if you find a pretext to keep Brynden here. But Daemon has to go."

He was taken aback by her vehemence. Of course, he knew what she was afraid of but he had never thought that a daughter of Dorne would harbour such suspicion, resort to such harsh measures just because someone had been born on the wrong side of the blanket. Daemon was just a boy – a talented and proud one but a boy nonetheless.

"Why?" he asked. "He's so young, for the Seven's sake. He isn't a threat to anyone and I can swear he doesn't even harbour such thoughts."

Myriah whirled about. "Can you swear the same thing about his mother?" she asked sharply. Daeron stayed silent and she smiled with bitter triumph. "So I thought." She paused. "He'll be only getting more dangerous, Daeron," she finally said. "Today, he tried to use his charm on me. In a few years, who could say who he's use it on? Send him away."

His silence was not one of consent and that irked her. "Don't look at me like this," she snapped. "I am not suggesting to make him beg his bread at the side of the road. Give him some land. Give him income to guarantee that he'd keep living in a style like the one our own sons live in. But send him away. He shouldn't be here where he can be easily made the focal point of every discontent with us. Send him away and let him be forgotten. Anything else might bring us many troubles in the future."

"No," Daeron stated flatly and she wanted to scream. Why couldn't she make him understand? He still saw Daemon as the charming, witty and generous boy he had known since his birth. Why couldn't she make him see the danger? Everything in Daemon's behavior pointed at him creating trouble to her children one day. And with Daena here to advise him, it was more than a distant possibility, it was a chilling probability. Myriah took a seat near the hearth and tried to get herself warm but tonight, there was no warmth to be had.