ositex-audiotest Chapter 1, a x-overs fanfic

Oct 6, 2019

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Posting this here from AH. Quite a bit of catching up to do so I'll post up to the interludes everyday until this thread catches up.

Saltpeter, Charcoal and Sulfur. The three ingredients one would need in order to make black powder.

Saltpeter had been acquired from a very awkward conversation with Harwin Strong. My attempts to distract him from why I needed all the bat poo I could remove from Harrenhal had, for an entire week, had him under the impression we were lovers and started five brand new rumours at court that I'm sure made Alicent all tingly.

Sulfur had been the next on my list and had left me with a bit of a dilemma. The easiest way to get your hands on Sulfur in Westeros was to buy it from the Dornish. The Hellholt was lousy with the stuff and the Ullers were always happy for the extra income from it's sale. Unfortunately, that is the easiest method for anyone who isn't a Targaryen. Another way is distilling Pyrite. Pyrite was mostly found in the Westerlands which meant dealing with the Lannisters. Lannisters or the Dornish, I'm hard pressed to say who are the more traitorous.

I was saved from my dilemma by Ser Joffrey. No doubt the Ullers are wondering why a scion of the Stormlands requires so much sulfur. He'd refused to set up a reoccurring delivery until I proved that my experiments worked. Bah, I'd show him.

Charcoal is the easiest. Charcoal burners litter Westeros and it was simple matter of raiding Driftmark for a small supply. Grind all three up, properly measure the ingredients, mix carefully but well and you have yourself the modest little powder that's going to ensure a certain little sulky brat never lays so much of a finger on the throne that's rightfully yours.

Not that I'm taking it personally of course.

An old pain lanced through my fingers as I prepared to transfer the powder to it's new home. I paused and flexed them, grimacing at the ache. Grandmaester Runciter had been a genius in more ways than one. Law, Architecture... He could advise on anything a king might need to know but the man had been a god awful doctor. As both I and my mother had discovered. I continued with the exercises until the pain abated.

Very carefully, I scooped my black powder into the metal casing and tightened the cap. Whilst Dragonstone certainly lives up to it's name, I'd rather not blow up the castle I've only been in possession of for six months. Alicent would love that.

Not that Dragonstone couldn't do with a bit of exploding. Dragonstone the castle that is. The island itself wasn't a problem. What farmland it had was rich and productive, the weather was pleasant and the views at times could be breathtaking. When not in my lab creating the recipe for Alicent's downfall, I've taken to exploring it fully on the back of Syrax.

The problem is whoever built Dragonstone the castle apparently didn't share my views on the island. Dragonstone itself had been built in the shadow of the Dragonmont, the towering active volcano that dominated the island. This had several knock-on effects. First it meant that the scenic views, rolling farmlands and gorgeous weather were on the other side of the damnable thing and secondly, the shadow from the mountain cast the castle proper, and the small town surrounding it, into a permanent gloom.

They'd then topped their monument to poorly thought out architecture in stone dragons. Huge stone dragons, small stone dragons, wall mounted stone dragons, statues of dragons… All made from the same fused black rock I had come to learn was indicative of Valyrian buildings.

As if that wasn't enough, later architects had decided there weren't enough dragons and had carved more into the walls, the floors, railings and banisters. No wonder Stannis had gone mad living here and if he was actually Azor Ahai and did have the power to wake dragons from stone then he was going to be a one man second coming of the bloody freehold.

Two guards in Targaryen livery fell into step behind me as a left the lab with my creation tucked under my arm. One of the many stewards of Dragonstone would ensure the rooms were cleaned and locked. Not that any totally-not-Alicent's-spies would be able to figure out what I was doing before it was too late. Still, this is Westeros and it never hurts to be pro-active about you enemies.

I realised I was scowling when a maid all but leapt out of my way. I would have to check that. I rearranged my face into what I hoped was polite smile and made my way to the small courtyard I'd had cleared for testing. The corridor that lead to the exit had the look of one that had been neglected since the Red Keep had been constructed.

My two guards took up positions by the door, out of the way. Happily, my earlier instructions for the set up had been heeded and a brazier was merrily burning away. It was heading towards late afternoon and I probably shouldn't be testing things so close to the evening meal. It was considered rude and Lord Corlys was always ready to point out my shortcomings.

I poured a modest amount of powder onto the flagstone, before withdrawing and retrieved a wooden splint. I had to be extra careful here. All my work would be for nothing if I set myself alight. Gently, I lowered the splint into the powder before stepping even further back.

Generally, Black powder will ignite if you look at it wrong. In the open, like mine, it should burn. Confined however, it produces an explosion which is what makes it useful for flinging bits of metal about at high speed.

At least that was what it was supposed to do.

I could only watch with a sinking sort of horror as the flame sputtered and died amongst the completely unignited and very much not on fire powder. From the corner, I heard my guards move to intercept someone. I stared at the unburnt spot and tried to set my emotions in order.

Frustration: Check

Something weirdly close to grief: Check

A sinking feeling that I have to face the Dance of Dragons without my easy mode solution of firearms: Also check.

Someone up there is laughing at me, I just know it.

"Rhaenyra!"

I jumped as a hand collided with my shoulder, pulling me from my one woman self-pity party. Unsurprisingly, it was yet another problem I would have to deal with before I could drop-kick Alicent all the way back to the Hightower. Laenor. Another set of unfortunate feelings rose up inside me and I resisted the urge to clock him for taking my pity party and switching it to a 'oh no original Rhaenyra is definitely still here somewhere' existential horror.

"What?" I bit out. I don't even know my own age anymore but I'm damn sure I'm too young to be dealing with the question of whether I'm keeping someone prisoner inside their own body or the knowledge that a continent spanning super war is on it's way because Alicent is raging b- bad person.

"My Lord Father has requested your presence for an early dinner."

Ignoring how breathtakingly rude it is for Lord Corlys to be 'requesting' things in my own damn castle, Laenor doesn't even look the slightest bit apologetic for the delivery of bad news. I cast another glance at the black powder with the vain hope that maybe it will set alight and the first time was somehow a fluke. It remained inert and I sighed heavily before I could stop myself.

"Did your experiment not go to plan?" asked Laenor, peering around me.

I gestured to the black powder again with another sigh and he gives me a sympathetic look.

"Sorry it didn't work out. Perhaps this is a sign that Alchemy should not be a path to the throne."

He was trying to sound conciliatory but it wasn't hard to infer he found to whole business distasteful. He may be a gay man in the heart of grimderp Westeros but beyond matters of inheritance and love, he was remarkably closed minded.

I fixed him with what I hoped was an intimidating glare. He raised his hands in mock surrender before pushing some of his long silver hair from his face.

The Rhaenyra in me was thrilled. He was a beautiful man, tall with delicate features and long silver hair. His eyes were the typical Valyrian violet and he held himself in a particularly regal manner. I had, thankfully, failed to somehow butterfly away Rhaenyra's beauty. Trust me, she had well deserved her title of 'Realm's Delight'. A lifetime of lessons in deportment had meant I could match Laenor's regal grace with my own. On the surface, we were a striking couple.

The current power couple of Westeros.

"It's beginning to be spoken about at court," he continued. I frowned. He didn't have to say who was talking about it. It was Alicent, it was always Alicent. My Father would only intervene if anything became blatant and even then he was unlikely to do anything that would actually protect me. I had seen it all play out in the past and in all likeliness, I would see it play out again. I flexed my fingers as they throbbed again in reminder.

"Perhaps it is time for you to find someone-"

I cut him off with a wave. I knew how that had gone for the original Rhaenyra. Three obvious bastards had tanked her support harder than anything Alicent could have ever done. Something I know would have tickled orginal Alicent pink if this Alicent was anything to go by.

"I have already told you-" Laenor cut me of this time, his face twisted in unhappiness.

"I can not. I have already explained. I can not." I understood and sympathised to a degree. He was a gay man and no amount of closing his eyes and thinking of Driftmark was going to change that. It still didn't change the fact that bearing anyone else's children was a risk I could not take.

"I'm not about to have children now anyway, Laenor. It's too early. Childbirth killed both my mother and her mother too. We have a few years to find a solution."

He didn't look convinced. That was probably Lord Corlys' doing. No doubt he was hammering the need for a quick heir into his son's head. In canon, Rhaenyra had already been pregnant with Jacaerys by this point. I suppose the lack of heir was spooking my so called 'greatest supporter'.

"I fear that will not placate the Factions at court," replied Laenor, meaning Lord Corlys even if he didn't actually mean to imply that.

On that last miserable note, I guided him back out of the courtyard, leaving orders for the stewards to clear the mess and to be careful with the powder.

Slightly left of productive

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Leonie46

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Leonie46

Oct 6, 2019

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Laenor left me at the entrance to my rooms to go and prepare himself. A gaggle of maids soon surrounded me and I let myself relax under their ministrations. My hair was unbound and brushed, the dirt I hadn't notice wiped away with a wash cloth and then the dresses were brought forward.

In a previous life, I'd hated dresses. I'd hated wearing them, hated trying to move in them and especially hated how no matter the fabric they pulled and itched. The Rhaenyra in me loved dresses, loved being attended to, adored the idea of court fashion.

I'd been startled to say the least when I'd realised I actually looked forward to dress fittings. Even more so when my new fashion conscious eye could pick out courtly attire and what it meant.

"Nothing to ostentatious tonight, Genna." The maid in question curtsied and indicated for a black dress embroidered with red dragons. Another maid brought forth a mantle of red that evoked the style common to the Vale. Too tired to assess whether that would offend my dear Goodfather or not, I gave my assent.

The whole affair took about an hour. Outside of the window, the sun was beginning to set. I stopped to watch it. I wasn't in any particular hurry and I beyond tired of dealing with Corlys. I needed a few moments just to myself. What would I do if I couldn't get the Black Powder to work?

After my brief respite, I made my way to the private dining rooms. Laenor was not present yet but Lord Corlys and his wife were. I bit back a groan and hoped it hadn't shown on my face. Corlys greeted me with his usual taciturn nod whilst his wife pulled me into a hug. I returned it happily. For all that I disliked Corlys, I loved Rhaenys.

"You look well! Any chance of good news?" she asked, with a friendly nudge as we sat down. Sometimes I wondered what the hell went on in their heads, that they could miss Laenor's planet sized see-through closet. At the mention of heirs though, I became the subject of the Lord of Driftmark's laser-like focus.

I took a sip of wine before answering.

"Not yet Lady Rhaenys but I pray to the Mother that I will be blessed soon." When in doubt, invoke religion. It's amazing how many Westerosi nobles dislike talking about religion.

"As do I," echoed Laenor as he finally entered. He seated himself next to me after depositing a quick kiss on his Mother's temple.

"Praying won't help," said Corlys, breaking his silence at last. Laenor tensed up, as did Rhaenys.

"Father-"

"No, Laenor. You have been married for nearly half a year now. You think the servants do not speak? They do and the realm is eager to listen. And what things they speak of? A Lord that has never visited his Lady's bed chambers, A Princess who is happier to play with queer dusts and strange powders like some sort of alchemist!"

My fingers gave a throb of agony as my hand tightened around the goblet. Around us, the Stewards were doing their best to seem as unobtrusive as possible. How many were Alicent's? How much could I say in their presence?

"Corlys," hissed Rhaenys, her tone promising retribution. The Lord set his jaw, meeting his wife's eyes and then his son's. Both lost the ensuing staring match.

He turned his eyes on me. He was challenging me, although what he hoped to achieve was beyond me.

Our staring match was interrupted by the arrival of the meal itself. His eyes flickered for a moment, resting on the hand that held my wine before looking away entirely. I realised that my hand was still clenched tightly around the goblet, so much so that my fingers had turned white.

I couldn't tell who had won that match of wills. Instead of agonising over it, I offered Laenor a smile before helping myself. Dinner tonight was beef pie accompanied by a multitude of green vegetables. Delicious but my mind was whirring with other thoughts.

Why did he have to pick tonight of all nights? After today's failure… Was that why he had picked it? No. He had sent Laenor before the Power had failed to ignite. Perhaps he knew I had begun testing today and wished to gauge my work before deciding to disapprove?

That sounded more in line with what I knew about the Sea Snake.

After the last of his famous voyages he'd come back to Westeros and assumed the title of Lord of the Tides. His treasures had made his House wealthy and Lord Corlys had proved himself as good a ruler as he had a sailor. He'd invested, begun construction on High Tide and married a Targaryen Princess.

At the time, it had been assumed by many that Lady Rhaenys would inherit the Throne and Lord Corlys had made it apparent to all who would listen that he was ready to fight her battles. The fact that he had proceeded to do so was something of a problem.

None of the books I had read had ever gone into detail about it but it seems the conflict between Aemon's line and Baelon's line had begun far earlier than the Grand Council of 101AC. As a youth, Rhaenys had climbed atop Meleys soon after Princess Alyssa's death. To anyone unfamiliar with the customs of the Valyrian Freehold, this did not appear to be a problem.

However, I had soon been told otherwise. A dragon was personal thing, when a family member died custom dictated that those close to the deceased should have first refusal on the dragon. The fact that Rhaenys had so blatantly ignored this had enraged Prince Baelon as well as Prince Daemon. It had taken some not inconsiderable diplomacy from Prince Aemon to ensure it did not become an Incident.

But damage had been done. When Prince Aemon died on Tarth, Daemon claimed Caraxes in revenge. I think that Rhaenys wouldn't have cared had she not learnt soon after that Jaehaerys had stripped Dragonstone and the Title of Heir from her. Instead, the loss of Caraxes for her own daughter, the just born Laena, had become symbolic of her loss no matter how unreasonable it was to expect a babe to claim a dragon.

So much so that both Corlys and Rhaenys were eager to look the other way when the seven year old Laena claimed Vhagar. When her claiming of the mighty beast had come to light, Viserys had to physically restrain an enraged Daemon. The fact that the target of his ire was seven year old girl, one he was happy to threaten violence upon did not go down well with the Court. Or Jaehaerys. The Old King had him confined to his rooms for a week.

Corlys hadn't taken the incident well regardless of whether Daemon had been punished or not. He and Daemon had nearly started a civil war during the Great Council and it took years for matters to thaw between them. Even then it had been a chance thing. An icily correct visit to court and an unplanned drunken night had given birth the Conquest of the Stepstones. I was given to understand the early years of the Conquest had been fraught with arguments and rivalry even then. They'd managed to reconcile however.

For all that Corlys blamed neither brother for the wrong done to his wife, there was still an empty chair on Viserys' small council. Alicent was desperate to fill it with a Redwyne but Viserys refused, telling anyone who asked that the title of Master of Ships belonged to Corlys and would be waiting for him when Corlys came to claim it.

That Corlys had sworn he would not take the title until his wife and children's rights were restored, that he would not aid a usurper, seemed not to bother Viserys overly much.

I took a drink of wine and used it to covertly scan the Lord of the Tides. He was in his early sixties but was still as healthy and as active of a man half his age. His skin was weathered by the sea, something he was eager to show off as he eschewed any particular fashion, opting for the garb of sailor. Admittedly, the fabrics used were silk and satin. He wasn't as handsome as his son, his features were thicker than the normal aquiline Valyrian look but I'd imagine he still many a maiden blushing.

He certainly had the Rhaenyra in me blushing. The dinner proceeded in an awkward silence, with no one quite willing to break it. Laenor opened his mouth a couple of times but seems to back down before the words made their way out.

I forced myself to focus. That Corlys was trying to assert authority over me was obvious. The fact that he had all but usurped the castle from me was annoying. I'd been so focused on the powder… I pulled my thoughts away. This needed to be about Corlys.

Oh, of course. He can't be seen involving himself to much in the goings on of the court. He publicly declared his withdrawal from it several times. He's backed himself into a corner with hasty declarations made years ago that his own pride won't allow him to forswear. Controlling a future Queen is fine and dandy but I think what he really wants is the Black faction.

I resist the urge to groan at that. The Black faction. The one I'd been neglecting in my haste to develop the Black Powder. I'd reasoned it all away in my head that I wouldn't need the Lords of Westeros with dragons, guns and canons.

I'd messed it up somehow. I was certain I had the mixture right though. Even if I wasn't exact there still should have been some reaction, something I could use to refine it further.

Laenor cleared his throat. The rooms attention swung towards him.

"Out of curiosity, what was your experiment today supposed to do?" he asked. I took a sip of wine to give myself time to think. In the corner, Rhaenys leant forward slightly, evidently eager for anything that would alleviate the oppressive atmosphere that had sprung up.

"It was supposed to burn or explode." I replied, seeing no way out. Laenor's eyebrows drew together.

"Explode. Forgive me, Rhaenyra, but I do not see the advantage?" Laenor's face was scrunched up in confusion. Damn him, even comically confused he was beautiful.

"Ah. Well… I had hoped to use it to create new artillery." I managed lamely. At that, Corlys put his goblet down and leant forward.

"How would this have worked?" He asked. I couldn't tell if he was genuinely interested or not. Hopefully, he was. For all that he was a curmudgeon, his support would be priceless. His current focus was the Stepstones. If I was going to have to play the political game after all, the earlier I could use him as an active Black, the better.

"Simply? A long metal tube with lead shot. The Black powder explodes and launches the shot out of the tube at high speed." I explained. I was not going to tell him that early canons had a bad habit of exploding the people using them at the same time.

"But the powder doesn't work." There was reprimand in his tone. I kept the glare from my face barely. I'd walked right into a trap in my haste to trap him.

"I must have done something wrong. I can fix i-"

"How would this new artillery even help your cause? You ride a dragon, your Goodmother rides a dragon and your husband rides a dragon. I would suggest you leave the art of explosions to the Alchemists Guild."

Realisation hit me like a punch to the face. I barely heard Rhaenys' tart response.

The Alchemists Guild. I was an idiot. By the time of Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon they were a sad shadow of their former glory but right now? Right now they were at the height of their power. Dragons weren't extinct and their knowledge of magic and science could rival that of a Citadel trained Maester.

I took a long gulp of wine to hide my grin. If anyone could help me perfect the Black Powder it would be the Alchemists. Oh, and what a coincidence, I had the perfect excuse to show up on Viserys' doorstep. Thanks Alicent!

"Perhaps a change of subject is in order," I said, forestalling the brewing argument between the Queen Who Never Was and the Sea Snake. "I have actually been wondering if it might be worth travelling to King's Landing. After all, I have a new brother now and I'd be a poor sister if I didn't at least go and see him."

"I wasn't aware you were fond of your brothers?" said Rhaenys. She had a point. The last male relative I'd had any fondness for had been Prince Baelon. If one did not count Laenor, he was the only male relative I had ever had any fondness for.

"Brother or no, you're better of staying away from that pit." Corlys growled. His look of disapproval was back. I watched as he speared a vegetable with uncalled for violence.

"If scurrilous rumours are circulating in the capital perhaps it's best to go there and make a show of it." Laenor cut in. Corlys frowned as his earlier argument was flung back at him with an uncharacteristic show of backbone from his son.

"It wouldn't hurt to touch base with my supporters either." I added. I knew I'd been correct about his motives when Corlys reacted like a shark that had scented blood in the water. He drummed his fingers on the table before nodding.

"It seems appropriate," he admitted. "As much as they should come to you."

"Good luck with that, dear husband. The lords of Westeros are prickly bunch. They don't like being summoned like common servants." chuckled Rhaenys. As the atmosphere became less tense she'd begun relaxing. Corlys merely snorted in response.

Chilled fruit was served soon after.

"Regardless of your plans, it seems I can not stay here for much longer. That is why I requested this meal tonight. I need to return to the Stepstones and I've tarried here for as long as possible."

In response to Corlys' statement, Rhaenys sighed and looked harried. Laenor leant forth and, surprisingly, laid a gentle hand over mine.

"Is there news regarding Prince Daemon?" he asked. I tensed and Laenor's hand tightened about mine. The fingers of my right hand ached. I was glad Corlys had waited until the main meal was over with as at the mention of my uncle, my appetite fled. Rhaenys shot me a pained look.

"It seems the pirates once thought routed have gathered under a new banner. They will launch an attack on Bloodstone before the year is out." Corlys explained.

"The Triarchy?" asked Laenor. I wasn't paying attention though. I could not deal with thoughts of him tonight. Not after the failure of the powder and Corlys' antics.

"I shall retire." I announced, rising to my feet. If Corlys was surprised by this, he did not show it. Instead, he nodded his permission.

The Rhaenyra in me wanted to slap him. This was my castle, not his. I could not, of course. I would wait until he was gone and route out the men and women he had bought. Ser Joffrey was uncommonly good at finding and locating those with lose tongues and it would be a nice distraction from his romantic troubles. Killing them was too much but perhaps a one-way ride to Driftmark with a notice that Corlys had forgotten some of his men and women.

"Laenor, why don't you accompany your wife tonight."

For all that it was put forward as a suggestion, it was a command. One Laenor leapt to obey, his earlier show of backbone forgotten in haste to be out from underneath the all-knowing eye of his Father. I pictured his face as he read the message informing him that I had severed his power base in Dragonstone without death or violence before offering Laenor a comforting smile.

Evidently a long night's sleep and time to think up a plan were not on the cards today then.

Slightly left of productive

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Leonie46

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Leonie46

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We didn't speak as we made our way back to my rooms. I wanted to point out that Lord Corlys had gone so far beyond propriety tonight that he was possibly approaching politeness from the other side but to do so before Joffrey's spring cleaning would be stupid. Corlys wouldn't take it personally but he'd absolutely use it against me.

I guided Laenor inside my rooms and dismissed the maids and servants with a final request for a pitcher of wine. My lord husband was tense, as if he were made of glass. I directed him to a chair and took a seat opposite him. We did not speak until the steward delivered the pitcher and two goblets. Even then we both had made our way through our first goblet before I started, having spent the silence searching for the right approach.

"I do believe your Lord Father was five minutes away from suggesting he attend to the matter of an heir personally as well," My voice wasn't quite the dry, scathing tone I was going for but it worked to startle Laenor from his funk. He gave a sharp, short laugh.

"Mother would feed him to Meleys," I could see that. Lady Rhaenys had a fierce temper and according to Laena and Laenor, many a maid had been dismissed from their roles at High Tide.

"We can not keep on like this, Laenor," I told him in the silence after. The man nodded solemnly. "I will stick by my plan to wait for an heir but you must provide it."

He sighed heavily and poured himself more wine before throwing back nearly half the goblet. I felt sorry for him, I truly did. He'd found his true love and lost him all in one year. Ser Joffrey may not have died when Criston Cole struck him down but what was left was a pale shadow compared to the man before. Then, whilst dealing with that loss, he'd had to navigate married life with increased duties on Driftmark.

"I do not know how but I will do my best. Do the Alchemists not know of some potion?" His voice was strangely hopeful. I frowned as I thought. Hadn't Melisandre said that she had charms that could interest a man? Or was I just making that up.

"I'm not sure. I intend to visit them discreetly whilst we are in King's Landing but I think we must discuss what comes after," He placed his goblet down and leant forward.

"What did you have in mind?" he asked.

"Today has been something of a wake up call. If the Black Powder doesn't work then I have no back-up plan to ensure my ascent to the throne." Laenor nodded in response. I resisted the urge to sigh. He was a clever man but totally under father's thumb. If I was going to pull him from Corlys' orbit and into mine I needed to involve him.

"What do you think is the best course of action?" I asked and he seemed surprised I had. He seemed to think it over for some time, wine forgotten. Hints of the mind Corlys wanted in his son but was forever crushing with his own oversized ego poking through I supposed.

"We should start with the Crownlands." He began slowly. At my questioning look, he elaborated. "Whoever controls the Crownlands controls King's Landing. If war does break out, we will need King's Landing if we wish to have any chance of winning. Do you know what Lords we can rely on?"

I thought back to the original timeline. Most of Rhaenyra's support had come from the northern regions whilst Aegon's had been mostly southern. That was proving true in my case as well. The fledgling Black cause was mostly made up of the Crownland houses sworn to Dragonstone and Vale lords.

"My cousin will likely side with me," I pointed out.

"Lady Jeyne has only recently obtained her majority and is already embroiled in a succession dispute herself. There's also the chance that raids by the mountain clans could pull their armies away at a critical time." Damn him, he was right. Jeyne had the support of the majority of the Vale lords but there were a few that either opposed her outright or did not care to offer any support.

"Perhaps an offer of support. A letter to my cousin to assure her that I will ensure her rights are respected should armed conflict break out." Laenor nodded in agreement.

"I can try and obtain permission from Father to send overly ambitious male relatives to the Stepstones? It would give Lady Jeyne an excuse to cut them off from their support bases in the Vale. There's still the matter of the Mountain Clansman though."

The Mountain Clansman of the Vale were the biggest problem for a stronger Vale. Dealing with them would not be easy. They were First Men who believed that the Vale was rightfully their's and viewed all Andals as trespassers. The problem with that line of thought was that by now, the Andals had been here for thousands of years. You couldn't just ship them off back to Andalos.

For most of the time, the Clansmen were willing to sit in their hidden villages and attack only the remotest of locations. When Autumn came however, they would swarm down from the mountains into the Vale of Arryn proper and carry out mass raiding for food and women. Jeyne's father and brother had died whilst attempting to mount a response to the Autumn raiding. A story every House in the Vale could relate too.

They refused all diplomacy, they killed people, drove the rest from their homes, stole women and the aftermaths of their attacks often saw even more people dying due to lack of food and adequate shelter. Although it revolted me, they would have to be eliminated. I said as much to Laenor, who merely shook his head.

"The Arryn's have been saying that for centuries. Although, I suppose they've never had a dragon before," he mused. Suddenly, I wish we'd had this meeting around the Painted Table. It would have been much cooler.

"So we cultivate allies in the Crownlands and the Vale as our first step. Give ourselves a core of loyal lords and use the strengthened Black faction to pull in more from other regions," I concluded. It would work as a solid opening move, politically.

Although, even if Black Powder was behaving strange, other things might not be. What was the first thing everyone did in the stories? Seed drill. There were other areas that could be uplifted, not just military technology.

"What about glass houses?" I asked.

"Glass houses? I admit such things would be useful for luring Northern lords to our side," his voice clearly laying out that he thought the Northern Lords would be about as useful as a chocolate teapot "But they are too expensive. To buy and for the Northern Lords to maintain."

"Not if we can make it ourselves." Westeros was fully capable of making glass. The issue is that it was glass of a truly awful quality. Most glass was bought and shipped from Myr, which drove the prices to truly eye watering heights.

"You believe your Alchemy could give us the ability to make glass?" he asked, doubtfully. I wasn't surprised, Myr kept the glass making secrets close to their chest. Slaves were bought as children and raised into the profession, those of them that tried to run away were given horrific punishment and those that stayed and were obedient were given a far better life than even some of the free citizens of Myr. A gilded cage but a cage none the less.

I, however, had an advantage no Westerosi glass maker had.

When I had awoken as Rhaenyra, I had put as much as I remembered of modern technology to paper. Whilst the knowledge of glass creation was not exactly something I could remember now I knew I'd written down some details about it's creation. Along with a whole treasure trove of technology I could use for the carrot part of a 'carrot and stick' routine with the lords of Westeros.

The stick part would, of course, be Syrax.

"I can't. I came into possession of a book when I was younger. A very poor translation of an older work from the Valyrian Freehold. I copied as much as possible but it was very damaged. It contained many useful technologies but the instructions were rather garbled. I know glass was in there somewhere," When in doubt imply that your operating on secrets obtained from the Freehold. Anyone with even a drop of Valyrian blood has a tendency to buy it hook, line and sinker.

It would also cover for the fact that I hadn't exactly remembered many of the instructions. Not that I could remember anything about it now, of course. When I had been four and a fresh, newcomer to Westeros the information had been fresh in my mind but even fresh it was hardly a step by step guide to an uplift.

Oh. Balls.

I'd hidden it in a tunnel accessible from my old room. My old room in the Tower of the Hand

The current occupant of the Tower was Lyonel Strong and his sons, Harwin and Larys. Larys was easy to deal with. He was intelligent and he enjoyed engaging in intelligent conversation without the pity or mocking that he usually dealt with due to his Clubfoot.

Harwin was a whole different problem. My need for saltpetre had seen me negotiate for access to Harrenhal. In my haste, I may have accidentally given Harwin the idea I was interested in more than a simple trade. The result had been awkward and Alicent had probably gone to sleep laughing for months afterwards.

"Technologies?"

Oh, I used an anachronism, didn't I?

"That is what the book called them," I replied with a shrug after the initial moment of panic had worm off.

"Well regardless of the terms a book about Valyrian 'technologies' would be invaluable. Do you still have the copy you made?" he asked, eagerly.

"That would be the issue." I explained the issue with the current location and he sighed.

"The matter with Harwin was ill-done but it can't be helped now. We must retrieve your copy. Once we have it we can use the information to strengthen our allies and bind them to our cause," He looked more animated now than I'd ever seen him and I'd seen him as a rambunctious seven year old that wanted to explore the secret passages of the Red Keep.

"Did your notion of Black Powder come from the book?" he asked after settling down.

"It did. As did the notion of the canon. They put them on ships, you know?" I informed him.

"Imagine that? Pirates would never be a problem again," he murmured.

I poured us some more wine. He took the goblet gratefully and took a sip. I took my own large gulp before addressing the next part of things.

"We have some solid political strategies down but we must talk personal." It was like letting air out of a balloon as he seemed to literally deflate.

"Didn't we already decide we were waiting for heirs?" he almost whined.

"Not that. I'm talking about the image we project to the world at large. As much as it pains me to admit, Lord Corlys was right." Oh boy did it pain me to say that. "You spend your time on Driftmark up to your ears in paperwork and I spend mine of Dragonstone up to my ears in-"

"Bat crap," Laenor interrupted.

"Queer dusts and strange powders," I finished, overlooking his interruption. He smiled and took a drink of his wine once more.

"What would you have us do?" he asked.

"Play the husband. We need to be seen together. Perhaps we could fly Syrax and Seasmoke regularly? And of course, we will need to regularly share a bed-"

"I thought you said this wasn't about heirs," he said with a petulant air.

"Stop interrupting me. As I was saying, we need the appearance of a loving couple. One that had a rocky start perhaps but nevertheless…" I trailed of and he nodded as it sank in.

"I wouldn't mind flying with you regularly. Mother says you have the makings of an excellent rider," I was beginning to think the heirs situation was something of a hot button issue for Laenor. Whenever the conversation even so much as touched on it he became as tense as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. His relief when steering away from the topic was palpable. His entire demeanour changed in on instant to the next.

"I must thank Rhaenys for her compliment tomorrow. I do, however, remember her telling me that I handled Syrax as gracefully as a rock."

That made Laenor laugh. Learning to ride from Lady Rhaenys had been fun. Not so much with my other teacher. I flexed my hand as it throbbed. After another hour of talking, mostly anecdotes about dragons and mothers, we made our way to bed for a hopefully peaceful nights sleep.

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Threadmarks Chapter 3

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Laenor left my rooms as early as was proper. I made a point of kissing him where the maids could see and although I could admit he wasn't an unpleasant kisser, I could tell from the slight tensing that he'd rather I was Joffrey. Hopefully, it would get back to Corlys and curb some of the 'talking' going on.

After that I allowed a batch of giggly maids to attend to me. If we were to head to King's Landing soon then preparations had to be made. Although I had a dragon, a royal could not just leap on it's back and leave. I required dresses, attendants, guards, supplies, gifts… The list was almost endless.

An hour long meeting with castellan gave me a partial solution to the dilemma. Laenor and I would fly tomorrow with the bare essentials and our ship would follow along afterwards. There would be a gap of a few days but Viserys had never minded covering for that in the past.

After laying out what would need to be loaded onto the dragons and what the ship would be bringing. The longest part was deciding on appropriate gifts for me siblings. I finally settled on a dagger with a dragon hilt inlaid with emeralds for Aegon, a collection of really fancy thread for Helaena, a wooden sword and shield for Aemond and the usual assortment of rattles one gave to a newborn for Daeron.

I was willing to admit pride as I made my way to the set of rooms I'd claimed as an office space. One of the first things I'd done when arriving on Dragonstone had been to set up an actual bureaucracy so that no part of the castle lacked oversight. That my staff could now plan and enact royal travel with a days notice was testament to my success.

Apparently, getting too smug had attracted the Gods attention and they'd decided to knock me down a peg or two because as I returned to my office I found Rhaenys waiting outside. Don't get me wrong, I loved Rhaenys. She was blunt, wore her heart on her sleeve and was absolutely ready to fight 100% of the time.

For all that it was easy to write Rhaenya off as a player in the Game of Thrones, She was just as dangerous as Corlys and twice as ambitious. She wasn't cruel though. If she could help someone she would and I couldn't forget what she'd risked when she'd stood before my Father and the Court and denounced my Uncle with words that, had they come from anyone else, were a good way of getting your tongue removed.

She ushered herself in after me, waving away the offer for refreshment. Before I sat down to deal with her, I sent a runner to Ser Joffrey to order him to attend to me at his earliest convenience.

"I'll be heading off for Driftmark soon enough. I came to let you know I'll be sending my girl to you in King's Landing," she informed me as she took a seat.

That was unusual, Laena was adventurous. She mostly spent her time flying on her dragon, planning to fly somewhere on her dragon or sightseeing in places she had flown to on her dragon.

"I always look forward to seeing cousin Laena but I was given to believe she was planning a trip to Pentos." At least that had been Laenor's report a couple of days ago when he and his family sans Laena had arrived.

"Corlys put a halt to it when he heard about the trouble on the Stepstones. He wanted one of us on Driftmark in case of trouble but I've offered to step in," Rhaenys explained. I raised an eyebrow. That did explain why Rhaenys was sending her to me rather than to Pentos but didn't explain why she was leaving her husband a dragon short in the face on renewed hostilities.

"Did Lady Laena cancel her plans to fly to Pentos?" I asked. Rhaenys sighed and shook her head.

"She's too into flying. She needs something to tether her to Westeros and the Seven knows her Father isn't going to deal with it anytime soon. It's a Mother's hope she might find someone in court worth breaking that damnable contract for. Besides, having a beautiful maiden to flaunt won't exactly hurt your cause."

I see. Rhaenys and Corlys are having differences again. From what I've gleaned from Laena and Laenor's slip ups, this is a usual occurrence. They love one another and are a surprisingly good team politically despite their hugely differing attitudes towards life but every now and again they butt heads and reenact Jaehaerys and Alysanne's Great Quarrels. Still, Rhaenys is right, Laena is Lordling bait and so I sent a message off to the castellan once she'd left to advise him to co-ordinate with Laenor's men about his sister.

I was half way through the harbour master's report regarding a small collision that had occurred yesterday when Ser Joffrey Lonmouth limped in, leaning heavily on his stick. His brown hair was clipped short and his face was clean-shaven. The clothes he wore were a better fit for an academic than the knight he was. A far cry from the look he bore when I first met him.

Joffrey then had been brash and proud with long hair he'd had in a knot and a well-groomed beard. He'd duelled a few squires who'd made remarks about him and Laenor and on the same day made it clear to me that Laenor was his and that he wasn't in the mood to share. I'd warned them both about Criston. My warning had saved Ser Joffrey's life but he'd been crippled in the aftermath. The brash youth was gone and I had only my inability to manage Criston to blame.

Like the Black Powder, he was another failure. I'd assumed that as long as I didn't encourage him or openly act 'unchaste' he'd remain loyal. That his betrayal had been fuelled by Rhaenyra's behaviour in the original time line. I'd been proved wrong and I should have seen it coming.

The Kingsguard had been in love with me. He had created a story in his head that I was the beautiful Princess and he the dashing Knight. That, somehow, I would eventually end up with him. When Uncle Daemon had blown in, Ser Criston had been my shield in truth. When my betrothal had been announced he'd expected to defend me again.

He'd come to me before the wedding and laid out a plan to flee to the Disputed Lands. There, he claimed, he would win fame as a mercenary so that he could ensure I had everything I deserved. I had done my best but it hadn't been enough. I had not been diplomatic in my refusal, I had been too shocked that I had missed all the warning signs even though I had known something would happen.

I should have flattered him, soothed his hurt ego and rejected him gently. I hadn't and his desperate love had turned to hate and rage. Laenor had been the target and since he couldn't directly harm Laenor, he'd tried to kill Ser Joffrey. A 'take what's mine and I'll take what's yours' scenario. He'd gunned for Joffrey, ignored countless other Knights in the melee and it had been all that Joffrey could do to even survive.

In the aftermath, it did not seem to matter how much Laenor professed he did care about the injury, how he loved him, Ser Joffrey would not believe him. He'd come to me and begged my pardon for not listening to me and offered to serve in my household, so that he would not be burden to his family. I had agreed. I had gotten Criston Cole so wrong and it had destroyed someone in turn. I felt guilty. I couldn't help but hope that with a little bit of time to realise he could be useful as something other than a fighter that he'd find his way back to Laenor.

"You called for me, your grace?" he asked as he lowered himself into the chair with difficulty. I made a show of filing the report before turning my attention to him as finished making himself comfortable.

"I will be heading to King's Landing tomorrow. I've made the material arrangements with the castellan but I have some tasks for you whilst I'm gone." There was no point asking how he was or asking nicely. He would take it as pity and sulk for weeks.

"Will Ser Laenor be departing with you?" he asked, a note of longing in his voice. I brushed over it.

"He will. We're hoping to touch base with loyal lords at court, amongst other things," I replied, ignoring the look on his face. "As for Dragonstone, it seems Lord Corlys has people here. I want every single one of his informers shipped to Driftmark."

Joffrey ran a hand through his short hair and looked thoughtful.

"I did think he was overstepping his mark but you didn't give orders to the contrary so I didn't think to address the issue. I would advise we don't send them all though. It would be a solid plan to keep a few in place to feed misinformation to our enemies."

That was a good idea. I hadn't thought of that. I studied the man opposite. I was loathe to admit it but I had been finding him gopher jobs in the few months he'd been here. Apparently I'd caught his ability to turf out Alicent's spies and completely missed the fact he had a mind for sneakiness I could use. If I made him 'master of whispers' I could hopefully get another window into Westeros that wasn't being filtered through the various factions amongst the Blacks and Greens.

I pulled a sheet of paper close. Technically, when writing a proclamation that someone has the authority to speak on your behalf it should be done on vellum, not paper. It was, surprise surprise, considered an insult but I judged Joffrey to be among the less block headed members of my staff.

"I would have you become my spy master of sorts," I said as I slid it across to him and he read it, eyes widening.

"You grace! I…" he paused, mouth moving. It was more than a crippled second son had any right to expect. I saw the anger at the imagined pity.

"Don't mistake this for pity or kindness, Ser Joffrey. You are capable and have my complete trust but I have no doubt that you'll be cursing my name in a years time. I'm tasking you with routing out my enemies spies as well as establishing spies of your own within their ranks," I informed him, taking care that my voice was cooler than I actually felt.

He swallowed audibly and nodded, staring at the paper transfixed. Having the ear of the heir to the throne was no minor thing.

"I should begin immediately," he said finally.

"Speak to the castellan for an allocation of funds. Nothing too extravagant. Our goal is to ensure Dragonstone answers to me and only me currently," The paper I'd given him should mean the cranky old man should listen to Joffrey. Oh well, he could come and find me if he was refused.

"I will not let you down, you Grace," he swore as he pushed himself to his feet with a bit of struggle. My smugness about something going my way lasted until well past dinner, when Laenor presented himself at the door to my rooms looking decidedly discontent.

"You made Joffrey your voice on Dragonstone," he accused the moment the doors shut and the room was free of unwelcome ears. "You made him your spymaster."

"Yes Laenor, I did. He has a mind for people and the Seven know he needs something to do." I snapped back, good mood evaporating. My husband dropped onto the bed and rested his head in his hands before sighing.

"I'm sorry. I should not… I miss him. I miss him so much. It's like I'm missing an arm," he flopped backwards and stared at the ceiling, talking to himself more than me. "Maybe Qarl is right and I should let him stew through it on his own."

"Qarl?" I asked, voice weak. Laenor sat up, blushing slightly in the candlelight.

"Yes. Ser Qarl Correy. He and I have been…" He paused as if looking for the right word. "…close recently."

Whhhhhhhhhhhhhy?

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Threadmarks Chapter 4

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Flying on the back of a dragon was indescribable. Nothing could compare to sitting astride a dragon as it soared through the air. Atop Syrax, I could understand why the Freehold had thought itself above gods and men. A light touch of the whip urged Syrax onward. She shuddered beneath me before pushing herself ahead of the bulkier Seasmoke. I let out a laugh of joy as I saw the chagrin on Laenor's face as I moved to overtake.

King's Landing was beginning to peer over the horizon. We'd be there within ten or so minutes. The thought wasn't quite enough to take the joy from me, nothing could whilst flying Syrax, but it was enough to temper it. To get my thoughts moving back into the mind set I would need to survive court.

It had been a hectic morning. I'd awoken early to track down Joffrey. He hadn't been keen on the idea of getting rid of Laenor's current lover but brief rant about the Knight's dubious claims of honour had seen the Stormlander clench his jaw and promise Qarl Correy would dealt with. Perhaps this was how my descent started because I was fairly sure that if Joffrey had him killed I wouldn't care. In another life he was bought and paid for to end Laenor's life. Better route him out now than risk a blade at our back later. Especially if he had been Daemon's stooge.

As we soared over the Keep both dragons let out a bellowing roar. We made for the Dragonpit and I was reminded of yet something else I would need to deal with when I ruled. The Dragonpit was bad for dragons raised in it. There seemed to be a point in a dragons development when the malign effects were lessened but it was easy to figure out which dragons had spent too much time in the pit in their younger years.

Vermithor, Silverwing, Seasmoke, Vhagar - All were huge creatures for their ages and strong fliers to boot. In comparison, dragons such as Dreamfyre, my own Syrax and even Rhaenys' Meleys were smaller and more slender. They lacked the sheer power non-pit dragons of similar ages. Of course, the pit dragons were easier to claim and train so perhaps that had been Maegor and Jaehaerys' thoughts when they'd built the place.

The pit dragons may be stunted to start with but they could be salvaged. Plenty of food and flying had seen my Syrax able to match Seasmoke in speed and she was, according to Rhaenys, one of the best living dragons when it came to aerobatics. Rhaenys' Meleys was now bigger and stronger than Dreamfyre, a dragon older than her by a few decades simply due to being on Driftmark for just over two decades.

I allowed Laenor to land first, circling the pit as keepers rushed forward to attend. Seasmoke snapped and growled as his harness was removed and a great loop of steel chain pulled about his neck. Laenor's whip snapped a few times as he drove his dragon into the pit proper. It was quick and efficient. No one wanted to mess around where a dragon was concerned. They might suffer their riders but anyone else was fair game, either for roasting or a simple bite or swipe of the claws.

With a pang of loss I took Syrax in for the landing. She knew the routine, having spent most of her early life here and needed much less guidance than Seasmoke had. Again, the keepers were quick and efficient and Syrax soon followed Seasmoke into the gloom with minimal prodding.

I allowed myself a deep breath in the blazing sun of King's Landing. Up here, on Rhaneys' Hill, the stench of the city was well obscured by the smell of Dragon and that had long ceased to bother me. Around me, men scurried to separate our baggage from the harnesses. Being royalty had it's upsides I supposed. Like never having to unpack your bags.

I was pulled from my musing by a the approach of a tall knight dressed in the armour of the Dragon Keepers. They had supposedly sworn an oath to defend the Dragonpit and the dragons themselves from danger whilst they rested. They oversaw pit security and the dragon's actual keepers, usually smallfolk drawn in by the promise of good coin and a payout if they died or were injured in their duties.

From the sneer he couldn't quite hide and the shallow bow that was just inside propriety I would guess he was one of Alicent's appointments. No wonder the Dragonpit was left so undefended in canon if this was the quality of men we were letting in these days. No doubt the scent of war had these green knights charging forth, convinced that because they'd seen dragons docile under their riders, they could handle a dragon in battle.

"Your Grace," he began with obvious distaste. "I am Ser Byren Hastwyck, current Commander of the Pit. I welcome you to King's Landing in the name of His Grace King Viserys the First. I have taken the liberty to arrange for a litter to take you to Keep."

Now there was a problem. If I took the litter I would be hidden from the smallfolk of King's Landing. Given I didn't know how I would be received by them the litter was probably safer. Then again the smallfolk reception would give me an accurate litmus test for the current attitudes in the capital. When in doubt, get a second opinion?

"Lord Husband! Do you desire to ride through the city or take the litter?" I shouted, ignoring Ser Byren's startled look. Laenor, clearly amused, abandoned his task of directing the stewards and made his way over. I hoped he caught on that this Knight was not friendly.

"Riding if that's possible, Rhaenyra, I can't stand the litter," he replied once he was in speaking range. If his answer displeased Alicent's stooge, he didn't show it. Instead he gave a stiff bow and promised that horses would be ready soon.

I placed my hands on Laenor's hips, ignoring the way he tensed slightly.

"It seems Alicent's rot extends to the Dragonpit," I murmured. He eveidently caught on to my ploy as his arms wound around my back and he lowered his head so he could murmur in turn. His warm breath ghosting across my ear took me by surprise and I shuddered. If he realised why, he didn't show it.

"A strengthened Black faction can check her ambition, Rhaenyra. We just need to focus on building it up," he assured me in a low voice.

I curled into him, luxuriating in a warm, firm body before checking myself. By the Seven, could I at least keep it in my pants for five minutes? Yet when I pulled away it was with a reluctance I didn't want to feel. Being seventeen again was a pain, all those hormones and no place to safely stick them. Laenor shot me a puzzled glance as Ser Byren made his way back to us.

"Your horses are ready," he stated with the air of someone who simply wished we could be gone as soon as possible. I had been away from the capital for too long if Alicent had managed to install enough of her supporters that this minor Knight felt comfortable dancing so close to outright hostility.

I hesitate to say that the ride through the city was uneventful. It started off without much fanfare with some of the Kinghts of the Dragonpit forming around us but we were soon getting attention. Thankfully, the smallfolk of King's Landing seemed remarkably ambivalent to me. I couldn't pick out anything overly harsh but they also didn't seem to have the love for me that Margaery Tyrell had inspired in canon. It was certainly something to look into cultivating at least, the smallfolk of King's Landing had hated Rhaenyra so much they'd died by the thousands to slaughter the dragons within the Dragonpit. As we got closer to the Keep the crowds grew thicker and the noise louder, mostly from the various markets. I noted Gold Cloaks reacting, forming a barrier and shoving them back out of our way so that we weren't held up in traffic.

Eventually, with much smiling and waving, we made it to the Keep. We were shown into a set of rooms and given time to freshen ourselves up and change from the riding clothes to court clothes and then it was time to confront Viserys. Joy. Laenor was oddly quiet the entire time. As much as I wanted to ask him what was going on, we didn't have time.

The Throne room was as unchanged as always. The huge skulls of dragons past hung from the walls interspersed with tapestry's depicting Aenar the Wise, Daenys the Dreamer, Gaemon the Glorious and Aegon the Conqueror. It was full to the brim with nobles from all corners of the Seven Kingdoms with the exception of the Iron Islands and the North. Much to my annoyance, I noticed that the Reach seemed extremely overrepresented. When I reached the foot of the Throne I bowed low to it's occupant whilst simultaneously trying to ignore the person sitting on the smaller throne next to him.

"Daughter, it pleases me much that you have blessed us all here with your presence," came Viserys' voice. I stood up straight and shot him a polite smile. Next to him, Alicent glared daggers at me in the corner of my eye.

He'd put on weight in the few months since I'd last seen him. Viserys had always been prone to overindulge in food and wine. When Prince Baelon had been alive, he'd dragged Viserys out every morning to spar. After he died and Viserys became heir, that exercise stopped and my royal father had begun piling on the pounds. Now it seemed he was indulging himself even more which didn't bode well for him living a long and healthy life in which he somehow outlives Alicent.

"I, and my Lord Husband, thank you for your welcome, Father," I replied. At my words Laenor stepped forward and bowed again and Viserys' smile grew even wider. Probably at the thought that heirs were only around the corner if we were finally getting on. I forged onward. "I have heard I have a new brother, Father, and have come here to pay respects."

That got the court murmuring and Alicent frowning. Daeron had not been presented to the court yet and likely wouldn't for a month or so. Not until the Maester could be sure he was unlikely to fall prey to any of the common ailments baby's were wont to get in Westeros. The fact that I had come early, seemingly eager to meet a male sibling, no doubt had them all wondering what I was up too. Viserys, on the other hand, merely beamed at my perceived love for a new brother.

"Of course, daughter! I will arrange a private family meal and you can catch up with your other siblings as well." Oh Viserys, you poor silly fool. This is not going to go how you want it too.

As Laenor and I made a show of happily accepting I realised something. This is going to be another awkward family dinner again, isn't it?

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Threadmarks Chapter 5

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After waiting around and chatting to the various nobles, touching base with a few of the present Blacks to boot, until it was socially appropriate to retreat, Laenor and I found ourselves in a suite of rooms. Our luggage had been brought up and unpacked for us, I was relieved to note. Ser Byren seemed the type to 'lose' it in transit.

Now I felt a tiny shred of guilt for making a mention to Father that he didn't seem to be enjoying his job at the Dragonpit due to the fine temper he had been in. Father's annoyed look had told me he'd gotten my meaning and that Ser Hastwyck wouldn't have his royal appointment much longer. Only a tiny one though. One that could easily be banished by remembering his sneer.

Before we dressed, I collared a passing servant myself and had two messages sent out. One to the Guild of Alchemists to request a meeting at their soonest convenience and the other to Ser Harwin Strong and Larys Strong, inviting them to eat with us tomorrow night.

No doubt Alicent would be more interested in my message to Harwin. At the moment, even Viserys occasionally contracted the Alchemist's Guild so even if many might mutter about it, it would likely be written off as a product of my uncommon interest in alchemy. No one would invoke the w-word in relation to it at least. Harwin was a different story. Laenor would have to be there at all times, Larys too. If I got permission to search the tunnels I would have to convince the older brother to remain with Laenor and allow me to go alone or with just Larys. No one would believe I'd sleep with Larys, poor guy. It was an annoyance but if I had to play the political game I needed to stop handing my enemies ammunition.

A few hours later, a steward stopped by to lead us to the private dining area used by the royal family as if I, the heir apparent, did not know where it was. I kept my smile gracious though. I could not afford rumours of a bad temper to go about. I gave word for a steward to follow us with the gifts I'd bought. When we arrived, Viserys and Alicent were there sans children but clutching a sniffling bundle of cloth Alicent that I assumed to be Daeron. Thankfully, the Kingsguard on duty was not the Lord Commander. I'd probably end up stabbing Criston if I had to deal with him today.

Father enveloped me in a hug I wish I could let myself enjoy before moving on to Laenor. Hugs from the royal person were not something that happened everyday and the aftermath left Laenor looking dumbfounded. I was hard not to laugh as Viserys steered me over to the latest addition to the family. Daeron was a baby. Babies, for the most part, look exactly the same. Still, I made a show of cooing over him and even managed to coax a smile from him.

I was interrupted from making a show of being a good big sister by a bundle of energy flinging itself into my legs. This one I gave a genuine smile to as Helaena beamed up at me.

"Hello little one!" I exclaimed as I lifted her up. She immediately curled into me for a hug I gladly returned. In the corner of my eye, Viserys smile widened and Alicent looked as if someone had just served her curdled milk.

"Did you bring presents?" she asked, eye wide.

"Of course!" I smiled and let her down. As I did I caught sight of Aegon and Aemond.

I'd tried. I really had. I'd played the doting big sister, read them stories and made time for them. It had seemed like it was working for a while. Then I'd noticed him drawing back, shying away. When Alicent had suggested betrothing me to Aegon, the boy had exploded into a fury before storming away which had nixed that idea. I'd tried to coax the reason for his outburst from him but what I'd got was a whole lot of garbled, snot covered whining that sounded as if it could be ripped straight from Alicent's mouth.

I'd gathered she'd spent every moment I wasn't with Aegon telling him I was stealing his birthright, intending on killing him or worse. A whole lot of me was furious. Alicent had terrified the poor boy and in doing so had laid the first slab on the path to the Dance. On the other hand, the Rhaenyra in me was angry that her overtures of love had been denied and wanted to slap the sulky little brat for being rude.

It was had to separate that out.

Helaena had been a pleasant success. Evidently, Alicent hadn't found the need to fill her daughter's head with visions of me literally eating babies and by the time she'd realised a need too nothing short of watching me murder kittens was going to convince Helaena I was anything other than the greatest older sister to ever exist. In response, she'd kept Aemond from me as much as she could get away with. So now I had two sulky little brothers and a bundle of energy and affection for a sister.

And now Daeron. Was it too much to hope she was lured into a false sense of security by me relocating to Dragonstone? Given the way she was clutching him to her chest, I'd say not.

"Aegon, look at you! You've grown so much," I said with all the false pride of an older sister. He straightened under my scrutiny and shot me a practised smile that I was impressed to see only looked slightly strained. Aemond gave me a baleful look as I turned to him. Mother above, what had Alicent been telling him that a four year old would have that expression.

"Have you started squiring yet?" I asked.

"He has, under Ser Criston Cole," Alicent said from somewhere behind me. There was a note of maliciousness to her voice. Her acquisition of Cole was one of her greatest victories and she enjoyed shoving it in my face at every conceivable moment.

"Has Ser Criston forbidden him to speak?" I asked her archly, my temper coming to the fore for a moment.

"Rhaenyra!" barked Viserys, warning in his tone. Beside him, Laenor looked like he'd rather be informing The Cannibal that he was, in fact, a very delicious baby dragon and Alicent looked triumphant. Aemond laid a hand on his brother's arm, looking ready to leap at me and start biting.

"I apologise. That was ill-done of me," I answered, forcing the anger down. It would not do to pull a Daemon and try to punch a seven-year old child. A traumatised seven-ear old child who was terrified enough, I reminded myself.

"You shouldn't apologise, Aegon was being rude," came Helaena's pouted response.

"No, he wasn't!" Aemond all but screeched and Helaena glared at him with such ferocity I suddenly wanted to laugh.

"No, Helaena is right. I was being rude. I apologise, Sister."

Oh, that was bad. Aegon had finally found his voice and I could see Ser Criston's polished and precise manner in it. Aemond shot me a look of pure venom even as Aegon struggled to keep his polite smile up even as he shook in fear. It was hard to be angry with him when he looked like he was about to faint. I clapped my hands together and gestured the forgotten gifts forward.

Aegon looked as if his soul was about to leave his body when he saw the dagger. I made sure to give it too him hilt first, it may have a fancy sheath but given the way the boy was eyeing it anyone would think I was seconds away from stabbing him with it. His bow was polite enough and I was somewhat amused to see that his first instinct was to unsheathe it and poke it to see if it was sharp. It was and he made his finger bleed. He didn't tahnk me but I let it go because Alicent was making such a fuss you'd think he'd just cut his thumb off.

After that, I presented Helaena with her thread. She was fond of sewing and she was good at it too. She thanked me happily and her bow was sloppy but genuine. Aemond took his gifts with a pout and a bow so shallow that had it come from anyone else would have been breathtakingly rude. Still he was four and convinced I was going to murder him and his siblings at some point so I overlooked it.

Daeron wasn't old enough to do anything more than gurgle and wiggle so Alicent thanked me for his gifts with such an icy tone that I came close to calling her on it. Our impromptu staring match was interrupted by Viserys clapping his hands together loudly.

"Perhaps we should all sit down," he said after Alicent and I recovered from our simultaneous heart attacks.

Laenor seized the King's interruption like a drowning man spotting dry land and all but threw himself into his seat. I took a seat at his side at a much more sedate pace after favouring Helaena with a smile and wink. Helaena took the chair to my other side and stuck her tongue out at Aemond when Viserys and Alicent weren't looking. Daeron was handed off to his nursemaids and whisked away as the food was laid out.

"I have heard you've been busy on Driftmark, Ser Laenor," said Alicent after a period of silence as we dug in. Laenor gave a her a smile and nodded.

"Father had me overseeing the ongoing construction at High Tide and working to ensure Spicetown's growth is well managed," he replied. "But he's made other arrangements after speaking with Rhaenyra,"

Before Alicent could spring whatever nasty remark she'd been setting up, Viserys interrupted.

"Speaking with? He has been on Dragonstone?" The question was directed at me more than Laenor.

"Yes, Lord Corlys travelled back recently. Although he'll be leaving again soon for the Stepstones once more." I said, leaving out the fact that he'd only come back to yell at Laenor for not producing an heir fast enough and his reduction of Laenor's duties being directly related to that.

"Is there any news of Daemon?" asked Viserys and I briefly had a vision of him wearing my soup bowl. Judging from the brief look of utter distaste that flashed across Alicent's face, we were still united in our feelings on Daemon. As Laenor explained to situation on the islands, I allowed myself to tune out, whilst massaging my suddenly aching fingers.

Then again, Daemon was usually the only topic that we did agree on. The rumours about their supposed affair were true and had been the basis for Otto's complete and utter loathing of the man. Daemon's antics had also been the basis for the rift in the friendship I had been cultivating with Alicent given that she perceived him abandoning her to shower me with attention. That I very much didn't want it hadn't meant much to her.

Still, whaling on Daemon (or his reputation when he wasn't present) was a good wholesome activity both the Blacks and the Greens used as a point of unity. I thought it was nice that we could all put aside our differences every now and again but Viserys apparently didn't see it that way. Even when Daemon had… Even when I had told him about Daemon he hadn't cared to listen.

Instead, he'd scolded me for turning against family. Told me my grandfather would be ashamed to see me using court politics to so shame my own Uncle. I suppressed the old rage. I knew Viserys was wrong, Prince Baelon would have cracked both their heads together had he been informed about Daemon's behaviour. It was in Viserys' nature though to seek the easy path, to ignore problems and allow them escalate until they exploded in his face.

My fingers were proof enough.

The Dance of Dragons was proof enough.

I tuned back in to discover Laenor and Viserys discussing what could be done about the Dornish potentially allying with the Triarchy. As much as I didn't wish to do anything that would help Daemon, I figured it wouldn't hurt to score some brownie points with Viserys for at least trying.

"The Dornish follow the Seven, do they not?" I asked.

"Hmmm, yes. It's belief is stronger to the west but those on the coast do follow it," he replied, stroking his moustache. I hated that stupid moustache so much.

"Perhaps we can send some singers into the western part of Dorne to sing about the evils of slavery," I suggested.

"It couldn't hurt and at best it could cause a rift in Dornish unity. I will put the idea to the Master of Whispers." Oh good. It'll never get done then. Honestly, Viserys why did you even appoint Jaremy Corbray. He thinks any kind of sneaking around is beneath anyone with 'honour' and certainly beneath a Knight like himself.

Oh who am I kidding? Incompetence is entirely in character for you.

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Threadmarks Chapter 6

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Painfully awkward dinner finally over with, Laenor and I slunk back to our rooms. Awaiting us were two notices in reply to my earlier messages. One from the Alchemists Guild inviting us to tour their building tomorrow and discuss whatever business I had with one of their Wisdoms. The second was from the Strong brothers accepting our invitation to dinner.

Laenor opted to stick to his own rooms that night. It was all well and good for him to sleep in my bed some of the time but too much was considered unseemly which I honestly considered an odd double standard. Sleep didn't come easy and found myself awake as dawn broke over King's Landing feeling as if I hadn't slept at all.

The maids, likely Alicent's creatures as my own had not yet arrived, clucked over my dark, sunken eyes and brought out a range of cosmetics I was forced to sharply order to be put away as I was fairly certain it was full of fun and exciting poisons that I wasn't keen to rub into my face.

Instead I settled for a quick, relatively speaking anyway, bath and several cups of Mint Tea to pull my mind into the present and out of the longing to go back bed. I still didn't look my best when Laenor presented himself at my door but I couldn't afford to put off a visit to the Guild. Not if they could help me get the Black Powder working.

I opted for a litter instead of riding through the city. I was too tense to smile and make it look convincing and too tired to play the beautiful flawless princess of the people. Laenor sulked about it as it turns out he genuinely didn't like the litter but he took pity when faced with an expression that I had hoped conveyed the possibility of impending wrath but according to him made me look like I was about to cry.

The city was awake around us. I heard pedlars and stall owners hawking their goods, two men arguing about a broken cartwheel, a gold cloak hauling a thief off to the barracks and more as I dozed the entire way to the Guild. Laenor left me alone, which was something I was grateful for.

The Wisdom that greeted us was a tall man with dark hair turning grey. His bow was deep and respectful and seemed genuine. When he straightened up, he had a smile on his face that had his eyes twinkling.

"Your Graces, can I start by saying how honoured we are that you are visiting today," he began. "I am Wisdom Jerrett,"

"I'm honoured to be invited to visit, Wisdom, I've heard much about the Guild," I replied. Keep back the main flattery for later if they got stingy with secrets. Laenor echoed my sentiments but seemed happy for me to take the lead, so I did.

Jerrett gestured us to follow. I allowed him to show off the buildings and the labs. They were impressive for a medieval guild. He seemed especially proud of the custom-made glass implements they imported from Myr, expanding on their uses. I managed to understand every third word but I think the gist was that they were used in distillation, something that surprised me. From what I'd seen, the idea of distillation didn't seem to well known in Westeros at large.

I made sure Laenor and I made all the appropriate noises of awe and shock and Wisdom Jerrett only swelled further with pride. Here was a man who lived and breathed Alchemy and the Guild. Any compliment for them was compliment to him. I dread to think how he would have reacted had I accidentally insulted them.

It was a very happy Wisdom that led us into a bright and airy office and seated himself behind the desk as we placed ourselves in front of it.

"Truly well worth the visit, do you not think, Rhaenyra?" Laenor began. The Wisdom puffed up even more.

"Oh indeed. Forgive me , however, I did not come entirely for the tour," I made sure to inject a note of apology into my tone. I did not want the Wisdom to suspect he was being used. I needn't have bothered. Jerrett leant forward in his chair, looking fascinated.

"We had heard rumours of Her Grace's interest in Alchemy. They were not wrong?" He sounded thrilled at the thought of a royal alchemist.

"I fear I do not understand most principals of Alchemy but I had been attempting to recreate a recipe I found in an old book. I confess, I have only found failure," I 'admitted'. Jerrett looked thoughtful before pulling a battered and already scrawled on piece of paper towards him.

"Could you describe the recipe? And the book?" he asked, preparing a quill and ink. I relayed the main points of Black Powder to him. After jotting it down he summoned an apprentice and ordered the young-looking boy to see if the Guild had anything similar in their records.

"The book itself… I remember it didn't make a a lot of sense, it was in poor condition to start with. The language was confused and imprecise, I suspect now of course, that it was a poor translation of an earlier work. I think it was Valyrian in origin. I know now that it was likely worth it weight in gold but as a child it was merely an interesting prop to practise my hand with."

The Wisdom nodded along with my explanation, face solemn.

"A sad but common tale. Have you given thought that it may have been fake? Some sort of joke?" It wasn't and I knew it wasn't but I could hardly tell him why. I shrugged in response and he stroked his chin before shrugging himself.

"No doubt, Your Grace, we shall discover the truth when young Harald returns from his search. If it is legitimate however, I would be very interested to see it," his tone was light but a book on ancient tech probably had him drooling internally.

I had an idea.

My understanding of the tech I'd written down had been shaky at best, mostly half remembered from a satirical book on rebuilding the world if you got stuck in the past somehow. I wouldn't have the time to interpret that half understanding of my younger self into real world tech if I was going to be getting political and I certainly couldn't trust Maesters to help.

"Of course, Wisdom Jerrett. It may be selfish but I had hoping to use anything newly discovered to improve Dragonstone." The Wisdom got my hint immediately. He nodded.

"Should it turn out to be worth looking into, perhaps we could discuss setting up a small campus there. You would have the finest minds of the Alchemist's Guild on hand to sort the wheat from the chaff."

Got you.

I was feeling indulgent enough not to point out that being involved in my pseudo-tech uplift from the beginning would massively boost their prestige in relation to the Maesters.

It took 'young Harald' another half and hour to appear with an old leather bound book. Jerrett immediately flipped it open, sending a cloud of dust into the air that had me sneezing and Laenor coughing.

"Apologies, apologies, Your Graces. A hazard one gets used to when working with old tomes. Now, lets see… Powders, powders… hmmmmmm, how interesting." After that he was silent for a few moments but I could see his grey eyes flickering back and forth across the page. Finally, he shut it and handed the tome back to Harald.

"Take this back to the archives and have a room set up with a supply of Niter, Vitriol and Charcoal," he barked. Harald all but de-materialised from the room. Jerrett then smiled at us.

"It seems this book may well be the real thing. The Black Powder you have described is known to us. Although I suspect it is not Valyrian in origin but somewhere further East," he explained.

I was forced to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning. So it was me, I had gotten the recipe wrong. My dream of shooting Otto in his stupid knees could still come true!

"The East? Like Yi-Ti?" Laenor asked, barely constrained excitement. Of all of the Sea Snakes legendary journeys it seemed that Yi-Ti excited Laenor the most, I would have to remember that. The Wisdom was nodding.

"Indeed. I have often said that at it's heart, Alchemy is the scientific study of magic. In the West, this method has only been in use for a few hundred years. We are too eager to rely on superstition and belief or even out right denial. The East are far more enlightened than us in this regard. They understand the need to study magic and have since before the fall of the Great Empire of the Dawn." He sounded like he was lecturing but not even my internal glee at the thought of Black Powder could distract me from that name drop.

"The Great Empire of the Dawn. I thought it a myth?" The Wisdom shook his head so hard I was worried he was going to make himself dizzy.

"Not at all. We have a lot of evidence that it very much existed although perhaps not ruled by God Kings." We all gave an indulgent chuckle at that.

"What is this evidence? How does it relate to Alchemy?" asked Laenor. Talk of the East had definitely made this visit way more interesting for him.

Oh Gods, Laenor was medieval weeaboo.

"Oh, there's the obvious evidence such as the Five Forts and other such buildings dotted about Essos but if we're talking Alchemy then nothing is more proof than the Tablet of Stars." He said it with such reverence that both I and Laenor found ourselves leaning forward.

"Found in Asshai, few Westerosi scholars have ever managed to get close enough to describe it. They say it speaks of the Great Empire's fall into anarchy and the first Long Night."

Oh. Oh no. Oh god no. No white walkers please.

My face must have reflected my horror because he chuckled and leant back.

"I wouldn't worry, Your Grace. Many civilisations from that time have records of the Long Night. It's been accepted by scholars all over Westeros and Essos that this was some sort of super winter. Keeping an Empire together in those circumstances would have been next to impossible. Why, what records we have from the North in that same time period says that even a much smaller kingdom shattered into independent tribes."

Why did today keep going from bad to good to bad? I was interrupted from my brooding and Laenor's total fan-boying over Yi-ti by Harald's reappearance to let us know the room Jerrett had requested had been prepared.

We dutifully followed him through the halls to another surprisingly well lit room. Laid out were three jars of powder I recognised, a mortar and pestle, measuring implements, a candle, wooden splints and for some reason a knife.

We watched in silence as Jerrett pulled on a pair of gloves and began grinding the three ingredients into a fine powder. He measured out a mixture that looked roughly like my own before mixing to Black Powder itself. Finally he took a small pinch of the finished powder a placed it on a ceramic tile.

"It does look like yours," Laenor hazarded after a moment.

"Eastern books refer to this as Burn Powder. When properly prepared, it will burn and explode readily," explained Jerrett, lighting a wooden splint. Then, as we watched, he placed it against the powder. Nothing happened.

"I see your look of confusion. This powder is not the finished product. You likely stopped here thinking it finished but there is one more step." He pulled of his glove and picked up the knife. Then whilst holding his hand over the small deposit of powder he pricked his finger and bled on it. Using the knife he ensured the blood was soaked in before retrieving another splint.

This time, when he pressed the splint to it, it burst into flame.

I stared in horror, not bothering to smother it in a mask of politeness.

"I understand your horror, Your Grace. We try not to use blood in our practises here. I take it the original manual did not go into detail about this part."

I shook my head. I had no words. Beside me, Laenor looked similarly pale. Looking sympathetic, Jerrett steered us back to his office, leaving Harald to clean up.

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Threadmarks Chapter 7

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It had been Laenor who'd had the sense to arrange a further meeting about setting up a satellite campus on Dragonstone and access to the 'book'. I'd been too busy trying to set my feelings in order. In order to create Black Powder in sufficient quantities I would need to wade through a literal river of blood. I would burn through any reputation I developed. It would be worse than original Rhaenyra, worse than Maegor even.

I blinked in the afternoon light as Laenor steered me into the litter. I felt numb. What kind of bullshit logic did this place operate on? All this talk about ancient tablets, the Long Night and blood magic was taking a second seat to the fact that even when the first round of testing had not worked I'd still assumed I'd get the Black Powder somehow. That I'd still have guns and that all the politics could be avoided with a superior show of firepower.

When the litter stopped we were not at the Red Keep but the Dragonpit. At my questioning look, Laenor smiled and placed a warm hand over my cool one.

"You looked upset. I figured we could make a start on that promise to fly together," he said, with a reassuring smile.

"Thank you. And… Thank you for sorting things out with Wisdom Jerrett." I had to fight a wince at my tone. I sounded exhausted. I felt exhausted. I wanted nothing more than to fly to Dragonstone, curl up in my bed and weep at how unfair it all was. He held me close for a few moments and I tried not to care about that jolt of wrongness.

The flight on Syrax cheered me up. The feeling of freedom that being a Princess tended to strangle. I raced Laenor several times and won most of them. I watched as Syrax skimmed over the bay, skimming her claws through the water. After a while, our flight descended into playing the dragons version of Tag! in which we took it in turns to see if we could deliver gentle nips to the other's tail.

As Seasmoke and Syrax danced over the waves we caught sight of the vast bulk of Vhagar flying alongside two ships. One bore a Velaryon banner and the other Targaryen one. Together, Laenor and I moved in, circling Vhagar. She was not a fast beast and our playful flitting back forth certainly got a rise out of her rider if the yelling was any indication.

I felt better by the time we had all landed and the dragons moved into Dragonpit. Less like the world had ended but I still felt fragile, as if any little thing could shatter me. I couldn't afford to shatter in King's Landing. I happily sank into Laena's hug before moving away and laughing as Laenor ruffled his sister's immaculate ringlets and she slapped at his hands in mock annoyance.

"So, I hear you were on the wrong end of Father recently," Laena mentioned as we clambered into the litter. Laenor groaned and Laena laughed. She was in an odd position when it came to her father. She was the second half of his grand plan to cement his legacy. Beautiful, wealthy and equipped with a dragon, Corlys had sought marry his daughter to my father, the King, because aim high I guess. When he failed, he'd used her to secure Braavos' support in his upcoming conquest.

A marriage to the then Sea Lord's son with the understanding he would have the prestige of a dragon rider for a wife, the Sea Snake's incredible wealth and the subtle pressure of his wife's family controlling shipping in the narrow sea via the Stepstones backing him to succeed his father when he died. But the Sea Lord of Braavos' died early and Tycheo Hartios had proved an utter wastrel. He'd quickly squandered his father's money after his death by making several appallingly bad investments. Investments that had actually managed to damage his family name by sheer association. Apparently the Braavosi nobles saw lack of financial acumen as major turn off much as one dishonourable family member could tank a Westerosi House for generations, I supposed. By the time Laena was eligible to marry he'd been a penniless scion of a declining house.

Corlys' pride would not allow him to marry his daughter to such a man but a lot of the upfront money for the Conquest had been Hartios money. The Iron Bank themselves were involved when the contract was written and the contract stated she was to marry him. So Corlys came up with excuse after excuse as to why the wedding couldn't happen yet whilst plying Tycheo with wine and women in the hope the fool would get himself killed.

No wonder he'd jumped on Daemon marrying Laena in the original timeline, in fact, I'd take a bet that Corlys had asked Daemon to rid him of the stupid boy in the process. Just mentioning his name would have Corlys grinding his teeth, a fact I can assure you I did not take advantage of.

The odd intersection of the deadlock on the marriage front, the massive dragon and Laena's own personality meant her father was completely unsure of how to deal with her and so solved his problem by not dealing with her at all. As far as I could tell, as long as he was unable to incorporate her into his ongoing plans to strengthen House Velaryon, he liked to pretend she didn't exist.

"Rhaenyra dared have an original idea," said Laenor dryly, sending Laena into peels of laughter. "He took it as well as expected."

That just made Laena laugh harder.

"He blundered though. Now I know he has men on Dragonstone I intend to send them back to him via Driftmark," I said lightly. Laenor frowned, likely realising that I was referring to Joffrey. No doubt he was worrying about the Knight being in danger. Corlys was basically a more restrained Tywin, I'd come to realise. He would not strike at me for the insult but Joffrey had no such protection.

"Oh, I would pay to see Father's face when he gets that note from Mother. Probably along with her commentary as well. 'Damn you, you thick-headed fool!'"

Laena's excellent impression of her mother had me chuckling as well as Laenor guffawing. The ride back was spent with the two siblings making increasingly more ridiculous impressions of their parents. The horror of my earlier discovery seemed so far away but before I could let myself make plans for the future, I had to live through a meal with Harwin and Larys.

Before that, we had to show our faces at court. Viserys greeted Laena warmly and Laenor and I chatted with Lord Hayford and one of the Rosbys. Both Houses were Blacks through and through but it was always a good idea to reinforce that loyalty. In addition, Laenor had managed to arrange a sit down meeting with Lord Wendwater through his nephew by discussing timber shipments. Today would not be a total loss then.

Lord Wendwater was a hesitant Green. Given the complete lack of knowledge about where the young, impetuous Boros Baratheon would jump, he was right to be hesitant. The Stormlands bordered Lord Wendwater's lands and would make a juicy target should the Stormlands declare for a different claimant. I had been hoping to start on the other side of the Crownlands in Cracklaw Point but those Lords rarely came to court. I spent the rest of the session tracking down and persuading the Black leaning Lord Celtigar to help me with the matter.

Laena left us late on so that we could prepare to meet the Strong's. Laenor thought it important we coordinated in order to subtly reinforce the fact Harwin had no chance with me, just in case he was still harbouring any mistaken thoughts. Which meant I got to try on a whole bunch of dresses, much to my internal glee. The current court style was heavily influenced by the Reach, not one I could imitate for obvious reasons, so finding a fashionable solution to that dilemma was always fun.

I had adopted a Vale influenced wardrobe, for the most part. The long swishy dresses that accentuated the figure usually accompanied by an equally swishy mantle that could be made to evoke wings, useful for falcons and dragons. Whereas most of the Vale dresses were woollen, I favoured much richer fabrics. I did not need the dresses to last, nor did I need them to keep me warm. I opted for black and teal colour scheme, evoking mine and Laenor's House's.

Laenor had little interest in fashion, like most Westerosi lords he liked to be seen as above it, but he trusted me when it came to saying it with clothes and figuring out what others were saying with their style of dress so I didn't have to swat the back of his head too much as I ordered the servants to lay out his outfit.

It had been a good idea to start preparing early as it turned out, we'd barely gotten ourselves dressed when Larys and Harwin arrived.

Harwin was a gorgeous man. Tall, muscled and with a face that could melt any maiden's heart and bearing that distinctive nose that would be as good as a smoking gun if I gave into the temptation, it really was not hard to see why Rhaenyra had risked everything to be with him. Larys, on the other hand, was everything his brother was not. He walked with a limp due to his twisted foot, his face could charitably be described as interesting when he smiled which was not a regular occurrence and he had peculiar, intense way of looking at you that gave you the impression he was trying to imagine you without clothes on.

Given a choice, I'd take a talk with Larys over Harwin any day. He was breathtakingly intelligent and whilst shy, when he did speak it was always worth paying attention to him. Harwin on the other hand was quite willing to blather out every single thought that entered his fool head and I can assure you, very little of his thoughts were worth they energy it took to have them.

As much as Larys was the complete opposite of a Westerosi lord, Harwin was the epitome of one.

"Sorry we're early, Your Grace. It's difficult to time things with limpy here." The shove that accompanied the comment nearly sent Larys sprawling but the smaller man recovered. Larys' face did not move from it's usual scowl but his eyes were full of hate. If Harwin wasn't even making the effort to reign in his usual Westerosi dickishness tonight was not going to be fun.

"It's not a problem, Ser Strong. Larys is a friend and I'm always willing to make accommodations for my friends." I aimed a bright smile at the clubfoot but failed to coax one in return. I took his arm and guided him to the table, sitting him next to me if only to serve as a barrier against Harwin's ongoing inane chatter.

If the start of the meal was awkward it only became more so as time went on. Harwin alternated between taking cheap shots at his brother, shamelessly flirting with me, drinking enough wine to kill a horse and implying that Laenor was gay or possibly a woman in disguise. Some of his insults were a bit indistinct. Larys kept quiet, only speaking to correct his brother's more outrageous claims and to ask how Ser Joffrey had recovered from the accident at my wedding tourney. He seemed happy to learn that Joffrey was up and about, finding ways to make himself useful. Both I and Laenor were wondering when Larys had even befriended Joffrey, I resolved to ask him about it next time I saw him.

Finally, as we finished up dessert, I broached the topic I had invited them for.

"I must admit I had an alternative motive for inviting you tonight," I said, as the servants cleared the table. Harwin perked up like a dog at the sound of the treat packet being opened but Larys merely nodded as if he'd completely expected this.

"Do you require our support in some kind scheme?" asked Harwin, eagerly. I forced myself not to grimace. If I ever wanted to sheme, it'd be Larys I'd choose. How Harwin had not given the game away himself in the original timeline was probably considered a minor miracle by some religions.

"No, nothing like that, Ser Strong." Laenor butted in, hastily. "You are aware of course that until she was four my lady wife lived in the Tower of the Hand?" Harwin look puzzled as if that had never occurred to him before but Larys merely nodded for him to continue.

"As a child I was fond of exploring the tunnels in the Tower. I fear they are littered with old possessions of mine. I was wondering if you would allow me access so that I could reclaim them."

"Tunnels? I was unaware of this," Larys responded before Harwin could even open his mouth.

"Regardless, I'd be happy to accompany to accompany you," Harwin quickly said, cutting off anything else his brother could say. It was what I had expected but luckily Laenor had come up with several excuses to lure the older Strong brother into staying with him. Harwin had little argument and was forced to sit there like a big, dumb puppy that knew it had done something wrong but couldn't quite figure out what as Larys limped his way out the door as I followed.

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Threadmarks Chapter 8

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The Tower of the Hand was much changed since it had been Prince Baelon's place of residence. Unsurprising, I suppose as it had seen two hands since. I only realised I stopped in the entrance way when Larys limped up behind me.

"Is everything well, Your Grace?" he asked quietly, interrupting my mind as it began recreating the Tower as it had been when I'd first awoken as Rhaenyra.

"Apologies, Larys. It has changed so much." He nodded but didn't elaborate further. We made our way inside. Lyonel's household didn't seem to be in a rush to bother us but I'd bet they'd be eager to report my presence in the tower to their master the moment they could.

I didn't bother making a show about remembering the entrance location. If it had been Harwin it would have worked but behaving like a ditzy woman around Larys was pointless. He'd just see through it and even if he didn't, he wasn't given to the pandering most men were all to willing to engage in around me.

The tunnels were as dusty and gloomy as I remembered. My little collection had been stored in an alcove further in and I was proud that it only took one or two wrong turns before I located the stash. Larys' head seemed to be on a swivel, his eyes wide as he took in the surprisingly extensive tunnel system. All I can say is Maegor definitely didn't trust his Hands. There wasn't a single room in the Tower you couldn't eavesdrop on from the tunnels.

The book was there, covered in grime and dust but other than that it looked undamaged. Well, book was an exaggeration really, it was a loose collection of paper I was telling everyone was copied from a book. It was the other items of the stash that took me completely of guard though. Gently, as if it might collapse at the touch, I lifted up the blue fabric of the blanket. As I realised just what it was, emotion I wasn't prepared for punched me in the gut.

I suppose this was just going to be one of those days and so I resigned myself to the storm of regret.

"I had forgotten this was here. I thought it lost," I choked and then realised I was crying. Behind me, Larys shifted uncomfortably. I turned the blanket over, obscured by dust but right where I remembered, the silver falcon and moon of the Arryn's.

Oh, I had not wanted to love Aemma Arryn. The Rhaenyra in me had forced me to but I hadn't wanted to. The day she'd announced her pregnancy had been awful, I'd wept so much because I'd known. Aemma had assured me that a new child would not make her love me any less and I couldn't… I couldn't tell her what was coming. She'd ben desperate for a boy. Runciter had given the okay to get pregnant again but she'd died. Died because Viserys had married her when she'd been eleven and by thirteen she'd already given birth. A brother that had died before his first name day. It had ruined her health, ruined her body.

Viserys should have known. Runciter should have known. They still kept pushing, for them a male heir was more important than a living wife. I'd come along and the effort alone had nearly killed her. She'd been fifteen and bed bound for months afterwards. Viserys hadn't given up. He'd kept pushing and only miscarriages had followed. Until the babe she carried hadn't died in the womb like the rest. Until the birth killed her. What had Viserys been thinking!?

I knew the answer to that. He hadn't. Stupid, stupid bastard!

Seven month's wasn't enough to say goodbye to your Mother!

Larys was awkwardly patting me on the back and I realised I was sobbing. I must have been doing it for some time if Larys had been moved enough to try his own brand of comforting. I dashed the tears from my eyes and gathered everything for the pages to a cracked pitcher.

"My apologies, Larys. Old memories." I hated how thick my voice sounded.

"I quite understand. My own mother died in the child bed." His voice was quiet. "Do you fear it?"

The question took me by surprise. It was considered a woman's duty to marry and birth heirs above anything else. To ask a woman if she feared the child bed was like asking a man if he feared battle. Fighting words to the Westerosi.

Oh but I did fear child birth. Men would not understand and the only older female figure in my life was Alicent. I feared the child bed so badly that when I thought of it, in the dead of night, I was in danger of sending myself into spirals of panic. Breath coming short, head spinning - all for nothing because no matter how I twisted and turned I simply could not get away with not having children.

"I would be a fool not too. Both my grandmothers died in childbirth, my mother died in childbirth." My voice was wavering at the thought of it. "But I will do my duty when the time comes as they did before me."

"I have no doubt you will, Your Grace. If I may offer some advice though? Most Maester's do not study childbirth overly much. Make sure yours is prepared."

I didn't have time to delve into that comment because we emerged from the hatch to find Lord Strong and Viserys waiting for us. It wasn't the two most powerful in the Seven Kingdoms that set my stomach rolling though, it was the man that flanked them. Ser Criston Cole. I suppose I couldn't avoid him forever, he was still the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.

Someone up there really hates me though. This hasn't been the worst day I've had in Westeros but by Gods, it's definitely in the running.

Lord Strong studied me for a moment and then barked out an order for something clean myself with. I was ditched, covered in grime and dust with clear tear tracks on my face. I must have looked a state.

"You went into the tunnels unguarded," said the King. I examined him, trying to get an idea of which mood he was in tonight. He wasn't angry, not truly, he seemed more annoyed. Unfortunately for him, I'd been reminded of his shortcomings recently so I was definitely not going to roll over and accept being reprimanded by him for something he had no right to stick his nose into.

"It was hardly a risk. None of the tunnels lead outside the Keep and it was important," I sneered back. I shouldn't provoke him but I was tired. Today had been far too much and my emotions had been stretched to the breaking point. He scowled at me before focusing on the bundle I held.

"It's the blanket Mother gave me," I answered before he could query it. At my answer, the irritation left him and instead he smiled indulgently.

"Ah. It makes more sense now. You want it for your own babe?" he said as a maid bustled in with the water. I hadn't even remembered it was there but now that I thought about it, it was a nice idea. I nodded as I used the water to clean myself up.

"Well, I can't argue with that. Does this mean you are pregnant?" Ser Criston stiffened at his words. Oh great, don't ask how I'm doing ruling Dragonstone or whether I have opinions on roads. Those things aren't important to being Queen, it's all about how many babies you can shoot out and whether they have the correct hair colour. I will be Queen, not Laenor's broodmare!

Whoops, dial it back and answer the man.

"No, Father. I intend to wait for a year or two," I told him. He frowned, anger evident on his features.

"It is your duty-"

"I understand my duty well, Father, but might I remind you of how your own mother died? My mother? Her mother? Even Queen Alysanne lost babes!" I snapped. He took a deep breath to retort but I held up a hand. "I am exhausted and wish to return to my rooms,"

That really wasn't a lie but I doubt Laenor would let me sleep before we'd flicked through the pages together.

"Of course, Daughter. Ser Criston, please escort the Princess back her rooms." Ouch, okay, I had that coming. Yelling at a King was not cool and all that but you really have to rub it in, Viserys?

The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard was silent as we made out way back. From the way his jaw was clenched, he was angry. No doubt Alicent would receive a report of tonights events. I nearly crashed into him when he stopped.

"Larys Strong?" he asked, finally.

"What are you talking about?" I asked. He spun around to face me.

"You'll fuck Larys Strong but you will not have me?" he hissed. His hands were flexing around the hilt of his sword. I did not like where this was going. "When Prince Daemon nearly killed you, I defended you. I fought for you! You would take that disgusting boy-lover and the fucking clubfoot over me!?"

"You defended me, yes. You did your duty as a Kingsguard. Care to remember what else to oath of the Kingsguard commands? As for Larys, I did not fuck him. You know I did not. I am loyal to my husband. To Laenor Velaryon. Not to Daemon Targaryen. Not to Harwin or Larys Strong. And certainly not to you. And if you insult my husband in such a manner again, I will have you killed." The arctic tone of my voice caused him to stiffen, his hand clenched tightly around the hilt of his sword, his face turn to a mottled white of pure fury.

"Whore!" he hissed.

"If I am whore, Criston, what does it say about you that I will not have you?"

I was saved from his ire and rage by Harwin and one of the Cargyll twins rounding the corner and talking loudly. No doubt they saw my furious expression and Criston pulling back from me like a child with his hand in the cookie jar. The two newcomers paused.

"Ser Cargyll, Harwin. Returning to the Tower of the Hand?" I asked. Harwin was quick to tell me that his father had dispatched Ser Cargyll to fetch him but the knight in question was keeping a cool eye on Ser Criston. No doubt Viserys would receive the report we had argued and promptly dismiss it like every report of Criston's behaviour in regards to me and Alicent.

"Thank you for escorting me this far, Ser Cole." I slipped by him before he could insist on walking me the entire way. "Good night, Ser Erryk, Ser Harwin."

Laenor was still in my rooms when I returned, pacing up and down in some amount of agitation.

"Oh, are you well? The King is apparently in a fine temper to learn you've been messing with the Strong's." I put my bundle down on the table we had eaten on not so long ago.

"I set him straight," I replied, negelecting to mention our spat. Gods, what the hell went off in that man's head? To name his daughter heir but then screw her over in every other conceivable way? If you hate me, why make me heir? If you want me dead, why not just have me killed?

My head span and I grimaced. I couldn't take any more of this yo-yo'ing. If everyday in Kings Landing was this exciting I'm going to give serious thought to moving to Ibb or something.

"You told him about the book?" Laenor asked, eyes wide. I shook my head and unfolded the blanket, grimacing at the state it was in. Laenor moved over, quickly collecting the pages before stopping to give a puzzled look at the rest of the items.

"Is that the wooden sword you stole from me at the Great Council?" he sounded dumbfounded, even as I smiled.

"You lost it in a bet," I replied and he huffed before chuckling himself. "The blanket belonged to my mother and her mother before her. I intend to get it restored and give it to our child."

A reassuring hand rubbed between my shoulder blades and he didn't even tense up this time. Laenor put the pages aside. Apart from his sword, the pages and the blanket itself nothing really had any sentimental value. One of the maids was summoned to take the blanket away for cleaning and Laenor quickly hid his old toy from it's 'original thief', he'd declared it his own 'heirloom'. Then it was time to get to business.

We split the pages and read through them. I'd managed to get the agriculture ones, the ones that described selective breeding, crop rotation, farming machinery and food preservation. I'd also managed to get half of the notes on distillation. It was clear from my confused rambling I hadn't really 'gotten' the concept of farming. For example, I'd made mention of a plough but there were no descriptions on how it would help, it's purpose or even how it differed from normal farming techniques.

I dutifully wrote down a summary from what I could understand and glanced at Laenor. He was rigid in his seat, eyes flickering back and forth with excitement written large on his face.

That… probably wasn't good.

"Rhaenyra! Look at this! If it's right this could change everything." He slid a page yellowed with time across to me and I picked it up. I gotten halfway through talking about mould when I realised what this entailed. Penicillin. I glanced back at Laenor who looked as if he was barely stopping himself from bouncing in his chair. Would Penicillin even work? Gun powder had not. If it did the possibilities were endless but the question was whether the spore even existed in Westeros.

"A medicine that can treat a massive range of illnesses. A near cure all," he squeaked. "And look here. A section on birthing!"

Another paper was slid across. In a past life, my sister had been a midwife. For all that the concept of birth terrified me, I'd still been eager to listen to the stories told. Here's a fun fact about midwifery, forceps are really, really useful for preventing unnecessary deaths in child birth. In our world they'd been invented by this one guy who'd kept them a secret, going so far as to blindfold mothers during birth so no one would find out his trick. And then his family had done the same thing for the next 150 years.

I suddenly wanted to throw up. Could this have saved my mother's life? As if reading my thoughts, Laenor laid a hand on mine.

"You were a child. Even if you had shown Runciter, he wouldn't have listened," he said kindly, before pulling free another page. "Look at this one! A simple device for amplifying sound. Simple! Yet not one Maester has ever thought to use something like this."

Numb, I left him to his discovery's and summoned a maid to help me prepare for bed. I fell asleep soon after to Laenor's exclamations of excitement and frantic scribbling from the other room.

Slightly left of productive

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Threadmarks Chapter 9

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Leonie46

Oct 6, 2019

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#10

When I awoke and staggered out of bed regretting all my life choices, Laenor was still in the same place he'd been the night before, paper littering the table and floor around him. He waved me over and I collapsed into a chair opposite him. Mornings were hard. A maid hurried over and presented me with a cup of juice and some fruit, one of mine that arrived yesterday. I thanked her before turning my attention back to my husband, who was sorting the paper explosion into some kind of order.

"I've managed to create a system in which the papers are filed into general groups. A few of the big ones are Agriculture, Medicine and oddly enough Glass. Whoever wrote this really, really had a high opinion of glass," he told me. Sue me, it's super useful for everything and it's a travesty we all just accept Myr makes the best glass. "From there I've ordered them into how much detail the text goes into producing the 'technology'. I think we can start work on the Agricultural technologies on Dragonstone and Driftmark this year even."

"You wish to start on Dragonstone and Driftmark? Why not the Crownlands? We need to start gathering and strengthening allies as soon as possible," I asked, ignoring the slightly wild look in his eyes. He'd definitely not slept. His doublet was creased, his eyes dark and his hair an unbound mess. I resisted the urge to comb my hands through it, he wouldn't appreciate it. He got defensive when it came to his hair.

"Have you ever worked with farmers?" I shook my head. My duties at Dragonstone mostly bought me into contact with the small time merchants in the port. "Well, they're stubborn. Very stubborn. Not they they don't have good reason, if they all try something new and they all fail then they do not eat and neither does anyone else."

"The section on farming machinery is very vague and we'll probably require the help of the Wisdom's producing anything from it but the idea of actively breeding plants and animals for traits? We do that already but just not on the scale the book describes in necessary for fast change. The field system suggested, although I admit I've never heard of Norfolk, could be implemented across the islands within a year. Two at most. It's underlying theory could spawn more technology the writer of this book couldn't dream of!"

"And once we prove it works, we'll be hip deep in Lord's wanting to know how we did it." I said slowly, unable to stop the cat-like smile of satisfaction growing across my face. He nodded along, eye bright now that I'd finally 'gotten it'. I eyed his other stacks and had an idea.

"Laenor, have you looked anymore into the section on birthing?" I asked. He nodded and tapped a stack of pages, I recognised some of the terms. Had he seriously copied everything? I scooped a few of the pages up and found that yes, he had copied the entire thing by hand. He'd even tried producing sketches of the things I'd described. Some of them were remarkably close and some… well, they could use work.

"Larys said yesterday that his mother died in childbirth." I said slowly. "Have you any relatives who…"

"Well, Father hardly likes to tell everyone but my birth ended Mother's chances of another child. She struggled with Laena as well." It was an awkward subject. Septons and Septas liked to wax lyrical about the miracle of birth and how the birthing bed was a woman's ultimate duty but no one liked to acknowledge how dangerous it was, how often women died or lost their children.

"Larys said that most Maesters do not overly study child birth." Laenor snorted in response.

"Maesters study everything," he replied but my brain was spinning now. Taking what I knew of Westeros and of the Maesters and of how nearly every family in every generation had a tale of someone dying needlessly and comparing with vague memories of a sister who'd studied for years to be a midwife, who'd still not been allowed to do solo births until she had assisted others and had proven experience. Unbidden, my mind drifted to the doddering Runciter and the sneering Mellos and even my own Gerardys.

In truth, I had never been fond of the Maesters. Runciter had merely turned that dislike into a hardened idea to do something something about them in the distant future.

I thought about Westeros' idea of midwives. Midwives were a tradition of the smallfolk and were usually older women who'd gotten the role through experience than study. It was sort of assumed anyone who was anyone had a Maester. If you were having to consult midwives and healers then you were as good as saying you didn't have the money or prestige for one of Westeros' knights of the mind.

"That's right. They do. How could any man truly know a subject if he spends half a year studying at best?" I asked, slowly. After all, doctors studied for years and still had to jump through hoops to practise. Was this why so many died? Not malice or some conspiracy but simple mistakes made by men who'd never assisted in birth before. After all, the Maesters served a castle. They didn't attend the birth of every pregnant woman in a ten mile radius. They might, if that woman was lucky, help with a favoured servant.

Helping anyone who asked would damage their exclusivity, of course. People might start associating Maesters with... gasp! The smallfolk! Laenor was looking at me strangely.

"Think about it. How many times do you think Maester Gerardys has assisted in a birth? And he has several silver links." Now Laenor looked thoughtful, probably because he knew the answer was zero.

"You believe that the inexperience of the Maesters is what kills their patients?" He asked slowly. I nodded eagerly.

"Yes! We have access to a set of ideas that could revolutionise medicine. We could create an entirely new set of healers, ones who study only the art of healing and may even specialise further into diseases or birthing." Laenor stroked his chin but his mouth was twisted, as if he were wrestling with his thoughts and losing.

"The Maesters have always been Westeros' healers. They have access to knowledge built up over centuries. Even if what is contained in the book is enough to challenge their supremacy, we'd need a massive investment to do so," he pointed out, tone doubtful. Ah, push back. I've presented something new too fast and it's straining his Westerosi worldview. After all better farming is fine but knocking out a major pillar of the Maesters power? Questioning a system that's been in use for thousands of years?

"Please, Laenor, any of this technology is unlikely to make the Maesters happy. Take the press for example? They make their money off of controlling access to books, deciding which books are copied and which are not. We could print any book a hundred times over for a fraction of the cost and in a fraction of the time."

His face screwed up, a lifetime of socialisation telling him that this would not work.

"It's much too far, much too fast. We're trying to win you a throne, not take Westeros apart and put it back together again in a new order," he pointed out finally. Damn him, he had a point. All but declaring war on the Maesters would likely scare a lot lords on principle alone. To say nothing of whose ears the Maesters themselves would start whispering in.

"For now we can focus on the farming and getting the Wisdoms to Dragonstone, but Laenor, I want to train midwives as well. That is not negotiable." Laenor studied me for a few moments after that announcement. I finished the last of the fruit, ignoring his silent condemnation. I was not going to risk dying in a childbirth any more than I needed too and if we could prove they worked, that they were better than Maesters? Well, Westerosi lords would clamour for them. It would be the first crack in their dominance over Westeros.

"Very well. I'll add it to the instructions I send to Dragonstone." I watched as he pulled a sheet free and jotted down a few lines. I drank my juice and listened to the sound of his scribbling, allowing my eyes to drift closed.

"I'm sending Laena to Dragonstone with all of this. She should be able to make a round trip in a day if she pushes Vhagar a little. Then I'm going to see Wisdom Jerrett so he can start getting a selection of Alchemists to Dragonstone," He told me, rising from his seat.

"Perhaps you should change first?" I asked, nodding at his less than appropriate attire. He pulled a face. "You know certain people will have a field day if they see you sprinting around the city looking like that."

"You're right. It's just… Rhaenyra, I have been trained to take the lordship of an island. My knowledge is trade, as shameful as most will find that, and even I can see that there isn't a single technology in here that won't improve lives across all of Westeros." He ran an agitated hand through his hair.

I let him leave with the promise he'd at least bathe before speaking with Wisdom Jerrett and not give away too much of the technology contained within it's pages until the Guild was under our thumb and indebted to us. I sipped the last of my juice and leant back in my chair. Was I making a mistake?

Even if I was wrong, it was too late now. Laenor had seen the pages. He knew that they were invaluable in more ways the money it would bring us. Used correctly they would secure Targaryen and Velaryon dominance for centuries to come. There would be no gradual decline as the family desperately tried to command unruly vassals, no civil wars that our opponents had any hope to win...

Ah. Considering the general quality of Targaryen rulers going forward, that's going to be a problem.

On that horrifying thought I forced myself to rise, calling my maids to me. I had errands to run before a meeting with Lord Wendwater and then a meeting with Lord Celtigar. I would need to impress both if my work to sway the Crownlands was to make a good start. I couldn't rely on just the Crownlands though. So after I had changed and bathed, I sat down and wrote to my cousin.

I had last seen Jeyne at my wedding. She'd seemed cheerful and friendly enough, at least when the swarms of potential suitors weren't present, but I hadn't been thinking politically then. I'd had visions of professional soldiers armed with muskets dancing before my eyes. I hadn't bothered playing politics because I hadn't thought I needed too. In retrospect, even had the Black Powder been viable, that had been a mistake.

So I was sure to remain warm but diplomatic, without assuming to much about how much leeway our shared blood would buy me. I enquired about her health, how the Vale was, whether she had her eye on any suitors and finally, whether she'd allow me to visit in the near future. The letter was too long and heavy to send by raven so I paid for a courier to get it to Jeyne post-haste which gave me another idea. If I was going to damage the Maesters as healers and archivists, why not damage their hold on communications too?

The days turned into weeks as Laenor and I charmed our way through court. I acquired three ladies-in-waiting, one from House Stokeworth and the two Strong girls. The last two were odd in a way, I understood Lyonel disdained mine and Alicent's games, preferring to focus on the practical sides of ruling a kingdom. As far as I understood, sending his daughters to me was less a show of support and more a way of saying that should my father die suddenly he would act in accordance with his wishes.

Gods, I hope I can stop this guy from burning to death. Having Otto as Hand when Viserys died would suck.

Marya Stokeworth was a plump but pretty girl who fussed over everyone. I'd been enacting my Margaery Tyrell inspired plan to win over King's Landing by visiting a succession of orphanages when she'd entered my service and I think it had awoken something in her. She'd begun organising sewing rings and charity parties, chasing me to enquire as to whether I could help with funding.

And since she was doing it in my name… well, Alicent wasn't too popular amongst the occupants of the city anymore.

The two Strong girls were called Alys and Sera. Twins, they took more after Harwin than Larys physically. Both were pretty with the Strong nose, their father's height and blue eyes although thankfully, they didn't take after their older brother in attitude or intelligence. They weren't quite Larys levels of smart but they were quick-witted at least and knew their manners. I suspected they were less thrilled by Marya's enforced sewing circles but they went along with it well enough, preferring to spend their time sewing by sharing the sort of inside jokes that only twins had.

Laenor acquired a squire from House Rosby named Alton who he swore was a good lad at heart but had me half-convinced he had nothing resembling a personality in the few brief times I'd met him.

With both of us turning the charms on the court, the Black faction went from strength to strength.

The Wisdoms, under the watchful eye of Jerrett, left on a ship bearing my colours two weeks after Laenor's meeting with them. I was given to understand that the competition for a place within the new campus had been fierce. The idea of these 'lost' technologies had sent the Guild into a frenzy. Jerrett had still been trying to insist the Guild's true purpose was magic even as his co-workers fought over glass production techniques and knowledge of the nitrogen cycle.

Viserys remained as spineless as ever, as predicted Ser Cargyll's report about Criston's behaviour did nothing after Alicent had stepped in on his behalf. I did manage to spend time with Helaena after I all but petitioned Viserys in open court. Alicent had been sibling hoarding and coming up with excuse after excuse to not let me see any of them.

I took the girl to the Dragonpit for a ride on Syrax which she'd talked about non-stop for three days. It was nice to be the big sister to a sibling that thought the world of you and Alicent's twitching was just the cherry on the cake. Aegon, annoyingly, still avoided me like I had the plague when he could and when he couldn't his interactions were icy, hostile but never outright rude. My one attempt to win Aemond over ended when he hit me in the shin with his wooden sword. It left a spectacular bruise and I was quite put out about it.

Daeron remained pink, round and loud.

As I approached the month mark, a cutter from Gulltown bearing Grafton colours arrived with a letter bearing the Arryn seal. Apparently, it would be impossible for me to meet with Jeyne right now as the Eyrie had been sealed due to an outbreak of illness suspected to, from the way the letter writer described it, super plague. It had been signed by a Ser Arnold Arryn, Keeper of the Gates of the Moon.

Yeah, I was calling bullshit on that one.

Oct 6, 2019

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#11

"My wife is an enigma,"

Laena turned to him in surprise. They'd taken Seasmoke and Vhagar to a deserted beach North of King's Landing and had been sitting watching the waves in silence for some time. Gods, he could see why his Father hated King's Landing.

"I thought you liked her?" she asked, one eyebrow raised. When he'd been young, he'd thought that he'd marry Laena. It hadn't been hard to imagine, she was his best friend. She already knew everything, he couldn't shame himself in front of her. She would have been happy with a husband that didn't try and prevent her from flying.

"I do. She just doesn't make sense," he finally replied. His sister huffed before scooping a rock from the sand and sending it flying into the waves. Laena did not see Rhaenyra like he did.

She had been just four when they'd first met. Prince Baelon had died and Mother had told him that she was going to make him a king. He hadn't wanted to be a king, he'd wanted to fly Seasmoke and explore the world. He'd trailed about the Red Keep in misery until a small girl had ambushed him. Two years his junior and already so much more worldly-wise than him. They explored the tunnels together and afterwards his Mother had scolded him for doing so but he hadn't cared.

Mother hadn't made him king or even an heir to one. He hadn't been allowed back to court and it was a decade before he saw her again. She'd flown to Driftmark atop Syrax and begged for Lady Rhaenys to protect her. She offered to marry him but Mother had been firm. She would not do anything to invite Viserys' wrath down on them. Rhaenyra had stayed for a two weeks before her Father summoned her back.

She'd changed so much and in some ways not at all. She was still far more wordly-wise than he could dream of being with a smile that made it seem like she knew some kind of great secret no one else did. He'd thought he'd figured her out then. Why she'd been so afraid of Daemon? Why she'd sought him out as 'safe'? He'd seen the way her eyes had moved to track his sister as she'd danced with his Father's bannermen and captains.

When they'd been betrothed he'd assumed she'd find her own lover amongst her ladies and he'd have Joffrey and at some point she'd find someone suitable to bear their heirs. He'd told her as much as they'd sat on the bed after the wedding but she'd rebuked him. She'd told him they could not risk bastards, not with the Queen waiting for any slip up, not with Corlys watching them so closely.

He'd panicked and tipped off his Father by spending too much time at Driftmark. He'd been too heartsick at losing Joffrey and too terrified of the shame that would accompany Rhaenyra's realisation that he couldn't produce an heir with her. Father had made his play and he'd found his understanding of his wife thrown again. He'd always thought she was epitome of a princess. That she practised alchemy and had brought no ladies, no lords and no support to Dragonstone had shocked him.

Father had said that her obsession with whatever she was making would destroy her chances at the throne and had told Laenor he would ensure the whole alchemy business was finished with. That he would take a firm hand with the Blacks so that he could protect the rights of his unborn grandchildren. Mother had been little help, she had been weary of Father's methods but she'd agreed Rhaenyra needed to be reigned in.

She'd told him to bed her and bed her well. That she'd fall in line once she was married woman in truth. He'd asked his Mother if she'd fallen in line with his Father after being bedded and she'd sent him to his room like an errant child and not the man of twenty that he was. She thought that any child of King Viserys was soft, like he was.

"Don't misunderstand me, Laenor, I love the girl but she needs someone strong in her life," his mother had told him. How wrong they were, how little they understood.

At least he knew just how little he knew about her.

He'd thought her attracted to women but after watching her for the past few months he'd begun noticing something odd. Her eyes flickered to women as if she couldn't help herself but sometimes, if she wasn't aware she was being watched, her mask would slip and she would look disappointed. As if she had been expecting something from them that hadn't been delivered.

Men, himself included, had also provided a similarly puzzling reaction. When she allowed herself to look at them he could see the lust in her face and afterwards, she always looked vaguely unsettled. He'd prodded Joffrey into revealing that she had taken no lover in the six months they'd been apart. No man or woman had graced her bed, only books on such a wide range of subjects that many joked that she wished to become the first female Maester as well as first Queen.

And then there was The Book.

She was lying to him about it being a copy of a copy of a copy. She was lying about it being a relic from her childhood. He did not know why but he knew his wife had created these things. The manner of speech the author employed was too much like the manner of speech she herself used when she slipped. He'd heard too many of the strange words and phrases that peppered the text from his wife before the pages had come to light to believe that she'd last read it during her childhood.

Why would she not tell him she had written it?

"Oh! Speak of her and she will come!" came his sister's voice, interrupting his musings. He followed her gaze to the rapidly approaching form of Syrax. They hauled themselves up from the sand and did their best to brush themselves clear as Rhaenyra steered her mount in for landing. He knew something was wrong from the way she strode over the sand towards them.

"Uh oh, this doesn't look good. Have you angered her brother?" mumbled Laena. He didn't have time to reply as Rhaenyra reached them a moment later and waved an envelope bearing the Arryn seal at them. Laena took it as his wife caught her breath, he watched as she read through it and paled.

"There is some sort of plague in the Vale. The Eyrie has been sealed," his sister stated, handing him the letter. He felt his heart sink. Rhaenyra had been so sure her cousin was in their corner. He had no idea who the heir to the Vale of Arryn was but he suspected they'd drive a much harder bargain for support than Rhaenyra's own flesh and blood.

"It's a lie! There is no plague." It was stated with such anger and finality. Baffled, he risked a glance at his sister only see she'd done the same thing.

"Look at the signature on the letter," she growled. He did so. Ser Arnold Arryn, Keeper of the Gates of the Moon. "He is Jeyne's closest male relative. If women are excluded from inheritance then he is the man who inherits. The damn thing came on a ship in Grafton colours."

"You believe he's lying. That this is a plot against Lady Jeyne?" he asked. Rhaenyra nodded, eyes bright with fury. She was so certain. Why was she so certain? What did she know?

"If you're wrong, you risk allowing the Vale to be decimated by plague," his sister pointed out. He watched his wife's jaw clench and the fingers on her right hand flex. An old injury, a parting gift from the Uncle that had terrified her so. What had Daemon done that she ran from him when she wouldn't even bow in the face of plague?

"I am not wrong. There is no plague in the Vale, I would know if there was." He took a deep breath and made a decision.

"Laena, could you stay here and reassure the Black lords in our absence. It seems Rhaenyra and I will be travelling to the Vale to discover the truth of it."

Slightly left of productive

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Threadmarks Chapter 10

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Leonie46

Oct 7, 2019

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#16

Plague in the Vale, my ass. I know there's no plague in the Vale just like I know that Ser Arnold is a dirty lying liar whose probably got Jeyne locked up somewhere whilst he brings the Vale lords to his side.

Maybe I was overreacting, history tells me he probably won't succeed but hopefully flying to Jeyne's aid would ingratiate me much further than words on paper. There was also the more selfish idea of that if, somehow, I had butterflied him into succeeding then he would never support me. If he did, he made his own claim on the Vale invalid.

I wanted to push the dragons hard but Laenor had counselled caution. He'd told me that if we pushed the dragons too hard they'd be in no condition to fight once we did reach the Vale. If I was right about Ser Arnold then we couldn't take that risk. We had no clue how he was maintaining control currently, Laenor told me, he could have fooled the Vale lords like he'd try to fool me or be perched in the Gates of the Moon with a massive army. I'd accepted, grudgingly. This meant that instead of blurring past the fields of the Crownlands and the Riverlands rolled by at a much more sedate pace.

The trip took four days at the almost agonisingly slow pace Laenor had set. We'd stopped the night at Duskendale, Maidenpool and the Saltpans. Luckily, the Lords of those towns had understood that we were in a hurry and could not afford to engage in the lavish feasts that hosts were expected to throw when royalty came calling. Or maybe they were simply relieved we weren't insisting on slowly bankrupting them with our presence.

We'd have to come back later and make a show of it. I could not afford to offend or alienate House Darklyn, House Mooton and House Cox. Or rather I could but that thinking was likely to lead to a disaster sooner or later, being too close the the original Rhaenyra's 'I am heir, bow to me' attitude that had lost her the Dance. I found it hard to sleep as we made our way across Westeros, too strung out on thoughts of somehow butterflying Jeyne's hold on the Vale away.

We reached the Bloody Gate itself in the late evening and made the decision to bypass it entirely, to fly onward to the Gates of the Moon. The dragons would cover the distance with ease and I couldn't face another night of wondering if I'd messed up somehow. Had the original Rhaenyra shown more support? Had I failed to gain a supporter in the Vale that backed Jayne?

My thoughts swirled like that as we soared through the air. Then they ceased as I beheld the Eyrie for the first time.

I found myself forced to gape at the seat of House Arryn, struck dumb by the sheer impossibility of it. Seven white towers atop a colossal mountain, surrounded by more mountains on either side and long winding road as the only approach. Stylish, impossible to seige and all but practically screamed 'I rule, you don't now grovel' to any who beheld it. It made the Red Keep look like some newly made Knight's motte-and-bailey by comparison.

No wonder cousin Jeyne had been so proud of it.

After Laenor and I finished marvelling over the local architecture we took the dragons in for landing at the Gates of the Moon, ensuring we came down in front of the castle. Inside we would be surrounded at least this way, we wouldn't have men at our backs. Dragons were vulnerable when they were on the ground in a way they simply were not in the air. Hardened scales that flexed when they breathed exposed the soft flesh beneath, impossible to hit whilst the flew but a valid target for spears and swords when forced to land.

The Gates of the Moon did not quite match the Eyrie in beauty but they were still worthy of note. Beautiful but practical, no army was getting past it without the castle's express permission. The first way stop for any visitor to the Eyrie and the first line of defence if the Eyrie ever came under attack. It also served as the seat of House Arryn during the winter which is why the title of Keeper was non-hereditary and normally given to someone within the Arryn family. Someone who could be trusted to remain loyal.

We were greeted by knights in the Arryn livery, they streamed from the open portcullis and formed a loose semi-circle around our mounts and my suspicions regarding the nature of the 'plague' were only reinforced by their nervous demeanour, the way they weren't sure if they would soon need to draw weapons. I let Laenor do the talking as my eyes searched the battlements. More men in Arryn livery dotted it but I spotted the odd flash of Grafton colours.

"Ho there, I am Ser Laenor Velaryon, with me is Her Grace Princess Rhaenyra, heir to the Irone Throne," he called. There was flurry of activity and then a handsome older man that could only be Ser Arnold Arryn strode out, waving his men to stand down. He had the classic Arryn look both my Mother and Jeyne bore. The sandy blonde hair and blue eyes that denoted their prized Andal heritage. He was clean-shaven with shoulder length hair worn in a knot and for all that he'd arranged his features into a pleasant smile a life of court had taught me to spot the subtle signs of stress.

The darkened eyes showing a lack of sleep, the tense way he held his shoulders… this guy was on the edge.

"Your Grace! I am Ser Arnold Arryn, Keeper of the Gates of the Moon," Not for much longer if you've done anything to my cousin. "I am happy to receive you and offer you guest right but I must warn you-"

"We are aware of the rumours of plague within the Vale. It was my hope to somehow ascertain if my cousin was well," I called. In the dimming light, I could see the indecision writ clear on his face. He could not prevent me from flying up the mountain if I so wished but if he was lying about the plague, I would soon know. Therefore he needed me to get gone as soon as possible and I'd just made it clear that I thought his claims of illness were just that, claims.

The fact that neither of us had moved to dismount our dragons, the only creature currently able to completely nullify the advantage the men of the Vale took pride in must also factor in to his decisions. I risked a glance at the battlements once more. More Grafton men and considerably more ranged weaponry now. He was stalling but even he knew he could not get away with murdering a Targaryen Princess and her consort, if he were even capable of it.

"I could not in good conscience allow you to do that, Your Grace. It is my duty to contain the plague here if the whole of the Vale of Arryn is not to be ravaged by it." I clenched my jaw at the word 'allow'. He would allow me nothing!

"Tell me, Ser Arryn, how did the plague come to be in the Eyrie. I note a lot of Grafton men here, perhaps it came through Gulltown?" Laenor pointed out and I watched as Ser Arnold shifted, hand falling to his hilt as he licked his lips. Probably wondering if his men could bring us down before we melt his castle down around his ears. I didn't pay attention to his response, I was watching the Grafton men. They were agitated. Clearly fighting two dragons hadn't been on their to-do list this morning and they were close to breaking. Either one would take a pot shot at us and the rest would follow or they would run.

I couldn't risk an arrow storm.

I shifted in my saddle, urging Syrax to turn her gaze to the battlements. If Ser Arryn noticed, he didn't break from his long winded explanation about the nature of the 'illness', the one Laenor was pretending to be enraptured by. I felt her tense under me as she sensed the fight coming. I loosened the whip at my side and focused on the battlements again. Having a dragon actually looking at them was doing wonders for their sudden sense of mortality.

Something just a little more direct then.

"Dracarys!" Syrax let forth a gout of flame that missed everyone standing on the battlements but ensured they all felt the heat of it. Panicked men threw down their weapons and fled, screaming. The knights that had met us outside the gate charged forward with shouts. I heard Laenor's whip crack and Seasmoke lurched forward and incinerated half of them at once.

The rest fled. Ser Arnold Arryn hadn't moved, hadn't even drawn his sword and I could see the fury on his face. He knew he was beaten, knew the Vale was beyond his reach now and he knew I made that happen. I flashed him a sweet smile that evolved into a smirk of satisfaction as the Gates of the Moon exploded into chaos behind him, his men giving calls of retreat with no thought to whether he still lived. Evidently as loyal to him as they'd been to Jeyne.

That would teach him to rely on traitors and men easily bought. They found it so easy to do so once again.

"Keep an eye on him, Laenor. I'm going to see if Lady Arryn is well," I ordered in a tone that promised dire retribution if she were not for any reason.

Laenor nodded, not taking his eyes off the Arryn knight. The look on his face suggested he'd be quite happy for Ser Arnold to make his move if only for Seasmoke to have a chance at eating him.

A light tap of the whip and Syrax took me upwards and over the wall. After the Gates of the Moon there were three more waycastles a would-be besieger would have to get around before assaulting the Eyrie proper.

Below me, the first waycastle, Stone, was silent and dark as the grave. Had the men of the garrison betrayed Jeyne or had they been killed when Ser Arnold had launched his coup? Syrax shifted underneath me and then snarled. I squinted at the mountain path but could make nothing out. Had she seen something? Dragons had good eyesight, even in the dark that had fallen around us. Actually, that was not strictly true. Dragons are terribly long-sighted. They could spot a rabbit racing through scrub land from the air but put that rabbit in front of them and they'd be snuffling around for it for a while.

Perhaps she'd heard something then? Another sense the dragon excelled at. Had she heard soldiers on the mountain perhaps? I was getting distracted, the adrenaline making it hard to focus on one thing for long.

In comparison to Stone, Snow was alive with activity. At the sight of Syrax, men scrambled into action. I couldn't see precisely what they were doing but I could see fires winking out and get a general sense of frantic activity.

When I reached Sky, I didn't need Syrax's super hearing to hear the unusual response. The normal response to a dragon appearing the sky above your castle was fear and screaming, not the cheering of the men of the Sky garrison. I smiled to myself. They must be Jeyne's men and nothing cheers the spirits like realising you had a dragon your side.

I swooped in low to more cheering before flying on the Eyrie proper. The fact that they had still been holding out suggested that Jeyne was still okay. Ser Arnold was her heir, technically, and if she'd died it would have given those men a legitimate reason to surrender lawfully. After all, fighting to defend a castle from the person who now owned it was not something anyone is Westeros would approve of.

The Eyrie had clearly not been built with dragons in mind. Syrax was just able to fit on the widest part of the approach to the main gate. I hopped off with less grace than I had hoped to convey and pulled my cloak tightly around my shoulders to ward against the chill. The moment I was fully away, Syrax took to the air once more and flew towards a smaller peak that the Eyrie overlooked.

I made my way to the gate. As I got closer I could make out shouts and activity from beyond it. Specks of light from torches flickered back and forth. By the time I'd actually reached them, they'd begun to swing open. More Arryn knights were there, flanking Jeyne. She was thinner than when I'd last seen her and her eyes spoke of too much missed sleep but she was smiling widely.

"Cousin! I sent you a letter but I fear it never made it through," I called. She laughed although I could tell it was strained, more from surprise and relief than any true humour. I crossed the threshhold of the gate and pulled her into a hug. She stiffened slightly before relaxing and returning it.

"Thank you for coming, cousin, how do you like the Eyrie?" she chuckled.

Slightly left of productive

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Leonie46

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Leonie46

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#17

Things moved quickly after the siege was broken. At the sight of the dragon the besiegers had turned tail and fled, disorganised as they were it was unlikely they'd threaten the Eyrie again. The loyal Arryn men had been all to happy to chase in any case, just to make sure. Laenor personally bore Ser Arnold to the Eyrie where Jeyne had him locked in the Sky cells. His men were quick to start throwing blame around with most blaming the Graftons for the attempted coup.

As I stood beside Jeyne as she handed out judgement, I began to get an idea of what had occurred and how truly devious Ser Arnold had been. In his position of Keeper of the Gates of the Moon he'd begun subverting Jeyne's guards and had been doing since the old Lord Royce had appointed him to the position a decade earlier.

He'd quietly sought aid from other houses in the Vale and had received it from a Grafton knight in return for the promise of a marriage to Ser Arnold's children. This Grafton knight, Ser Roland, had apparently been responsible for providing most of the muscle Ser Arnold had been relying on.

Using Roland's supposed mastery of Gulltown he'd brought in mercenaries under Lord Grafton's nose and had hidden them within the Gates. Roland's Grafton men had positioned themselves nearby and awaited the signal. He'd expected to announce his claim, march up the mountain and be admitted to the Eyrie through a show of force. To improve his odds he'd placed men inside the Eyrie with orders to demoralise the defenders and try their best to sabotage the defence. When the jaws of his trap closed, more men than expected stayed loyal to Jeyne and his march had floundered halfway up the mountain leaving him with no choice but to battle the rest of the way.

Even though his plan was, quite frankly, completely delusional it seemed he'd had some sense. His first victim had been Jeyne's Maester, cutting her off from calling for aid. Other victims of his hidden men were older sergeants and men at arms who were in positions of command. Even though she couldn't call for aid, he'd still been pushed for time. He'd claimed the Eyrie was suffering from sickness to cover his crime but the nobility of the Vale would investigate eventually. According to those of his men we'd captured, he'd been getting desperate. For good reason, as it turned out.

Three days after we had relieved the siege on the Eyrie, a small army of about two thousand under the command of Lord Denys Waynwood and Lord Gerold Redfort arrived and demanded that Ser Arnold Arryn turn over command of the Gates of the Moon to them or face siege.

"That honourless-!" Lord Redfort shouted as Jeyne summarised Arnold's uprising and defeat. Next to him, his daughter looked ready to march to the Sky Cells herself and engage in some egregious violations of prisoner rights. 'Dearest companion' indeed.

Both Redforts had dark hair and dark eyes, although Lord Gerold's was streaked with silver. He had short hair for a noble but made up for it with a long beard he evidently took a lot of pride in if the amount of grooming and braiding that went into it was any indication. Jessamyn Redfort was pretty enough although no real beauty by the standards of the realm, even if I felt a bit harsh in that judgement. I'd quickly learned she was quick-witted though and fun to speak with.

We were seated in Jeyne's solar, sipping wine. Laenor had decided to take the opportunity to show everyone he could fight and had joined the loyal Arryn men to hunt for any lingering Grafton forces and hopefully head off the banditry that usually accompanied several thousand men finding themselves jobless and in possession of arms and armour. I'd tried to persuade him not to, to take Seasmoke, but he'd pointed out that the Lords of Westeros already muttered about his prowess with the sword. If we meant to put a stop to any rumours, he would need to prove his martial ability without his dragon backing him up.

He was right but I couldn't get past visions of his pointless death in taking a needless risk. I'd gotten revenge by making a show of it as they'd departed. I'd presented him with my favour before ordering him, loudly, to come back to me unharmed before pulling him in for a kiss. According to Jeyne, her people found it sweet that we were so in love.

"Please, Lord Gerold. I am unharmed and he is in the Sky Cells. The men he hired fled in the face of my cousin's arrival and will likely not stop fleeing until they reach the Narrow Sea," said Jeyne soothingly. Lord Gerold didn't reply but took a long drink of his wine. Jessamyn Redfort leant forward and placed a hand on Jeyne's arm. Jeyne covered it with a hand of her own and gave her a small smile. Lord Denys cleared his throat and the attention of the room moved to him.

He was monstrously tall and half as wide across with long blond hair he wore in a braid and a clean-shaven jaw that looked as if he could kill a man with it. For all that he looked like a bruiser, he'd been among the first to figure out Ser Arnold's scheme and had been the the one who'd recruited Lord Redfort into his rescue. He was a lot more intelligent than he looked and someone to be weary of.

"We, of course, thank Her Grace for her assistance but the fact remains that there are still Grafton men out there who struck against you. That includes Ser Roland and I know Gulltown well enough that he could not have done it without the support of Lord Humfrey," he said.

"You wish for me to strike at the Graftons. You believe Ser Roland a patsy and Lord Humfrey the true mastermind," Jeyne stated.

"It makes sense," I said. "Ser Arnold's plan was equal parts brilliant and delusional. It speaks of two minds."

"And I've met Ser Roland. He hasn't the brains or the wits for this," said Lord Denys pointed out. Jeyne placed her wine down and folded her hands beneath her chin.

"I can not punish Lord Humfrey with no proof as to whether he was involved. I do not have the support. The lords may tolerate me but they will not tolerate striking at one of their number without undeniable proof of wrongdoing," she said, quietly.

"Nonsense! Those were Grafton men with Ser Arnold and mercenaries brought in via Gulltown. If Lord Humfrey did not know he is incompetent and if he did he is complicit. No lord would question you in this!" At Lord Gerold's outburst, Jeyne leant back and massaged her temples before grimacing.

"Cousin, you have two dragons at your immediate disposal. You have two more that can be summoned within a week or two. You have the support of Lord Redfort and Lord Waynwood. If you don't move now they will continue to ferment rebellion in the Vale," I urged, seeing that she was wavering.

"Even if I did strike at Lord Grafton, what would you have me do? Cut his head off? His sons would be at the head of the next rebellion with half the Vale likely at their backs," She snapped before sighing and closing her eyes. Lord Denys huffed in annoyance.

"Seize Gulltown," I replied. Jayne's eyes blinked open and she stared at me incredulously.

"Are you mad!? Even if your dragons swing the fight we could not take it without burning the town first! And if we do take it, burned or not, I could not hold it!" She cried. Every eye in the room was staring at me in surprise.

I sighed. From what I could remember the Graftons remained a problem for the Arryns well into the canon timeline. Getting rid of them now could only strengthen Jeyne's hold over the Vale. Selfishly, of course, it would also make trading with her easier when the time came to begin developing Dragonstone in earnest.

"That… could work," said Jessamyn Redfort slowly. Jeyne just shook her head as if she'd just noticed everyone around her had gone mad and she was still sane.

"Explain?" said her father.

"The Arryns of Gulltown. The Lannisters have the Lannisters of Lannisport, why not enoble the Arryns of Gulltown. Their legitimacy would come from Jeyne and they'd have an easier time of holding the city because they have history there and an existing rapport with the citizens."

"And nobody is going to follow them if they did rebel because their line is bunch of coin counters," added Lord Gerold, a large and nasty grin growing over his face. Then he stood and pulled his daughter into a crushing hug. I found myself blinking in surprise. That had gone down better than expected even if Jeyne was still looking at father and daughter as if she were waiting for someone to shout 'fooled you!'.

"You are aware, of course, that if we intend to take the city without two dragons reducing it to cinders we will need the aid of Lady Royce," Lord Denys pointed out. It was hard to tell who took this worse, myself or Jeyne.

I felt the blood drain from my face as I realised just who he meant by 'Lady Royce'. Lady Rhea Royce, the current wife of Prince Daemon Targaryen. Opposite me, Jeyne's face had gone an angry red and her jaw clenched. Did Jeyne not defend Rhea's lands against Daemon in canon? What had happened that would get this reaction from her?

"No! No. I will not ask that… I will not!" She stood, hands clenched.

"Pardon but what is the problem with enlisting my lady aunt?" I asked, hoping the lords had been too interested in Jeyne's outburst to note my reaction. Jeyne flung herself into the chair. Jessamyn sat next to her and leant close, murmuring words of reassurance that did little to soften the angry glare etched into Jeyne's face.

"Lady Royce's father was Yorbert Royce, Jeyne's regent, during her minority," explained Lord Gerold with a sigh. "He-"

"He seized power! He made me a prisoner in my own castle! He sent away my ladies! He tried to marry me to his son! He used my name to marry his daughter to a prince!" I blinked at Jeyne's outburst. She was standing again and looking ready to attack someone, Jessamyn was pulling at her dress, trying to calm her. Lord Denys merely sighed.

"It is true that Lord Royce greatly overstepped the boundaries of what is considered appropriate as a regent. There were talks to have him replaced when he was killed alongside his sons," said Lord Gerold as Jeyne was guided back into her seat.

"Lady Royce has proved to be a loyal vassal devoid of her father's ambition. In fact, I would hazard a guess that she resents it as it was the cause of her rather unfortunate marriage. She is quite happy to stay at Runestone and rule," supplied Lord Denys. He would know, I suppose. His lands bordered Lady Rhea's so he likely saw her more than any other noble in the Vale, barring her vassals.

"Did she ride to my aid?" snapped Jeyne, irritably.

"Don't be bone-headed, Jeyne. Lady Royce could have ridden to your defence on the back of a griffon and you would have found fault!" came Jessamyn's equally waspish reply.

Oh Gods, these two are less subtle than Laenor. How are they getting away with it?

"Jeyne, if you allow the Graftons to get away with this others in the Vale will wonder what they can get away with. If they see you, Royce, Redfort and Waynwood united with royal backing, they'll think twice about any future rebellion," I pointed out.

Jeyne's face twisted in fury.

"Fine," she spat. "We will ride to Runestone and pick up more Redfort and Waynwood troops on the way. I will sanction the seizure of Gulltown if Lady Rhea will add her strength to ours. Only if she agrees to add her strength to ours."

Apparently sensing that was the best they were going to get, we moved onto other topics. Lord Denys and Lord Gerold were obviously angling for a reward of some kind but apparently my arrival rendered their own rescue pointless so Jeyne was able to duck it a little. She agreed to take Jessamyn Redfort as a lady-in-waiting and I'd had to force myself not to cackle as she acted like it was some great honour and not a forgone conclusion. Also were Vale lords blind? Because Jeyne was giving the Redfort girl major heart eyes and Lord Denys and Lord Gerold seem to have just… not noticed.

Doing my part for my cousin, I agreed to take Falena Waynwood with me back to the capital to join my growing pool of ladies-in-waiting. Lord Denys assured me she wasn't the type to easily frighten and could be trusted amongst the various factions at court but I resolved to ensure that for myself before I let her in on any secrets. Although, to be fair, all of my new ladies-in-waiting were untested. Their fathers may be Blacks but history was littered with children that did not wish to follow their parents plans for them.

More work for Joffrey, I suppose.

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Threadmarks Chapter 12

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Leonie46

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#18

If I'd been under any illusions about how fast Jeyne's makeshift army was going to travel now that we had a firm goal in mind they were shattered within the first week. First we had to wait for the 'hunting' parties to return. Laenor came back with them unharmed and had apparently impressed a fair few of the knights that had accompanied him. A knight of House Hardyng named Jon had especially taken a shine to him and I suspected Laenor might have an admirer. Although given the looks Laenor was shooting right back the feeling was very much mutual.

Once Jeyne had made sure the land surrounding the Eyrie was devoid of any lurking armies to put it under siege again she moved on to scouring her garrison for any hint of treachery. The woman was relentless and she ended up dismissing a fair few knights and servants when the answers they gave regarding where their allegiances lay weren't satisfactory.

I did manage to secure an hour or two for her, Laenor, Jessamyn and I to sit down and discuss the future of the Vale and the Black faction at court. Which was no easy feat given her dedication to ensuring Ser Arnold could never, ever subvert her people again. I was beginning to suspect a few of neuroses there, she had definitely not taken the threat on her home well.

"You believe Alicent will escalate then?" asked my cousin, studying me with a curious intensity. "I had thought her goal to be forcing your father to disavow you as his heir via political pressure from his Lords."

"It will not work. Father is probably the most stubborn man in all of the Seven Kingdoms. I do not know why he refused to acknowledge Aegon as his heir after he was born but now it is too late for either of us to back down. When Father dies I will make my claim because to do otherwise is death and Alicent will make her claim because otherwise the Hightowers will lose a vast amount of resources and prestige." I replied. Jeyne nodded thoughtfully.

"You have our complete support, Cousin, but we are not exactly the Reach when it comes to what we can provide." Meaning her pockets weren't endless or deep and she had a serious manpower problem. Luckily, Laenor and I could help with that.

I glanced at Laenor, who nodded and leant forward. I had been quite surprised to learn that during his time with the Vale Knights he'd been paying attention to just what they were saying regarding the problems the Vale had. He'd returned with several ideas on how our technology could be used to strengthen and develop our allies beyond the obvious in the farming technology.

The fact that I had convinced Jeyne to seize Gulltown for House Arryn, albeit a distant branch of it, had thrilled him. Apparently gaining a greater control of the port was something he'd been intending to advise Jeyne to do.

"Rhaenyra and I have begun working on developing 'technologies' from an ancient book," he began.

"What does that actually mean?" asked Jessamyn, derailing his spiel. He paused, trying to explain and I took pity.

"Processes, devices, new ways of doing things. The 'book' is a copy of a copy and so on. It will require intense study but already we have a wealth of new ideas to work with," I told her. Laenor nodded along.

"You would strengthen the Vale in return for me aiding you against Alicent and her Greens," stated Jeyne.

"Wisdom Jerrett estimates that if we manage to reproduce even half of the technology mentioned we could increase crop yields by nine times and that's a conservative estimate. That is just what the book says regarding agriculture," Laenor pointed out.

"There's more than just agriculture?" asked Jeyne. When Laenor nodded Jessamyn let out an impressed whistle and turned to Jeyne with wide eyes.

"You know that I would support you regardless of whether you gave me this information, Rhaenyra, but I will not lie and say that I do not want access to what you develop from this book," Jeyne said after a moment's pause.

"As Laenor said, we want to help develop the Vale. Yet we should also look to see how we can develop it in other ways, the research on the book has only just started, after all. Do you know whether the Vale can support mines?" I asked. Jessamyn giggle-snorted in a weird cross between amusement and frustration. Jeyne shot her a dry look.

"The Vale does support mines currently. Mostly in Royce lands in the form of copper and tin, which shouldn't be surprising. I mine most of the marble and I believe the Belmore's have a small iron mine," she said after Jessamyn had calmed down.

"Oh, I see. It's the mountain clans, isn't it?" said Laenor before I could ask her to clarify why there was so little mining when you would assume the mountains would hold a wealth of resources.

"Correct. The mountains are rich with silver, iron and even some deposits of gold. Oh don't get me wrong it's nothing compared to Casterly Rock but it's still a good amount. The problem is where it's located, any permanent presence is either overrun before we can pull anything significant out of it or requires so much men to guard it that the mines simply aren't economical. Honestly, most houses of the Vale have given up ever mining the resources of the mountains," Jeyne told him.

Ouch. The lords of the Vale were a proud lot but poor. To know there was a king's ransom sitting in the mountains they were so proud of and also know it's completely untouchable must rankle.

"Then if we intend to help we have to start with the Mountain clans," I said. This time both Jeyne and Jessamyn laughed but it was bitter.

"You think we have not tried? They know the mountains better than we do. Thousands of men can completely vanish and any attempt to chase them, even with vast armies or mounted knights, are doomed to failure," said Jeyne finally. "We must settle for hunting them every autumn and depriving them of resources that way."

I gritted my teeth. Perhaps I could kill two birds with one stone here. My new pike and shot model army was dead in the water but I didn't have to give up on the idea of a professional army loyal to the crown. My entire knowledge of warfare came from playing copious amounts of Total War games but even I knew that relying on vassals for the majority of your muscle was a very bad idea.

The mountain clans had to be dealt with if the Vale was going to be strong enough to help win me the Dance. They were a nuisance that in the right circumstances could turn themselves into a disaster but they also presented an opportunity. During canon the mountain clans had served Tyrion. They'd hunted Stannis' scouts with a ruthless efficiency, blinding him to Tywin and the Reach's approach until it was too late.

The mountain clans would not work for me, I was under no illusions about that. I could, however, train my own versions with better equipment and supplies and use the Mountains of the Moon as their crucible. If it succeeded, I would have a reliable force that could blind my enemies to my movements and raid their supply lines and if it didn't, I had still sent aid to Jeyne and would won some good will from her.

"You've had a thought," said Laenor, looking at me. "I recognise that smirk."

Was I smirking? Yes. I explained the idea to the three of them without the bit about Tyrion.

"The clans know the mountains better than any men you can send and they move about them with little to no effort. You will be sending them to their deaths. Even if you managed to find clan territory, they'd simply pick up and move."

"I'm not suggesting we throw them into a search and destroy action straight away. I'd suggest they arrive, set up some sort of fort and slowly explore first, learnt he mountains. Then we use them in addition to whatever men your lords can raise to put the mountain clans to flight in a true campaign,"

"Jeyne, it's worth a try. Even if it only succeeds for a season or two, it's enough to create and reinforce some mines. You said yourself that something needed to change in the Vale," said Jessamyn, softly. Jeyne sighed, melting in the face of her lover's pleading look.

"Rhaenyra, you seem to have kicked over an anthill. Very well, if the business with Gulltown doesn't explode in our faces, I will put it to my Lords for their opinions, Seven knows it will at least give them something to do."

It was still another week until we left the Eyrie. An undercurrent of unease and excitement seemed to be boiling under the skin of every man and woman making the journey. Things were changing in the Vale. Word had gotten out the Graftons had earned Lady Arryn's ire to the point that she was willing to seek Lady Royce's aid which did not point to good things in Lord Humfrey Grafton's future.

Going to war, even a minor one like this, was not as glamorous or fun as I'd hoped. Progress was achingly slow and a trip that Syrax could have made in less than half a day and one man on a horse could make in two days took us four whole days. Admittedly, the road was poor and the terrain hard to pass. Jeyne promised that we would make better time on the road from Iron Oaks to Runestone as it was on flatter land. Road being a generous term for the glorified dirt track that occasionally lead into steep rises over rock.

We stayed a few days in Ironoaks as more men joined us from houses sworn to Lord Denys and Lord Gerold before setting off for Runestone proper, a trip that promised to cost us another week in time. I was told Jeyne had sent word to Lady Rhea informing her of our coming but there had been no reply waiting at Ironoaks for us. Jeyne sulked about the whole matter the entire way and refused even Jessamyn's cajoling to cheer up.

Happily, Falena Waynwood appeared to be made of sterner stuff than most. We'd picked her up during our brief stay at Ironoaks and she seemed completely unfazed by Syrax, the marching or the fact that Laenor was being as unsubtle as a brick to the face when it came to Ser Jon. I still wasn't ready to trust her completely but it seemed she knew how to keep her mouth shut so far.

It was getting towards evening when we finally caught sight of Runestone. A respectable stone keep that towered over a cliff, looking out over the sea. Probably had some really nice views but I'm also will to bet no one ever told them about erosion. Actually, maybe I was wrong about that. Part of the cliff had fallen away due to time and the sea but the land that supported the castle seemed untouched.

A mystery for another day, I suppose.

Lady Rhea and her household were waiting to greet us. My Lady Aunt was a tall woman with dark hair and hazel eyes. Her thin lips were being forced to form a polite smile but I could tell she was completely unimpressed with our arrival. We left the army setting up camp outside Runestone proper alongside Syrax and Seasmoke and accompanied the more distinguished members of our party to meet with Lady Royce.

It was awkward and the whole business did not get any less awkward as we preceded inside and were invited to share a small meal. Jeyne barely managed to stay on the right side of polite, a fact I attritbute entirely to Jessamyn's hasty diplomacy. For her own part, Lady Rhea ignored Jeyne's comments and muttering, instead focusing on her meal like she was trying to ignore our presence.

Lord Denys and Lord Gerold were not willing to let her forget though and had already started putting pressure on Rhea to help us against the Graftons heedless of the tense mood. Rhea was as non-committal as possible but did agree to arrange a proper discussion regarding the matter. Honestly, to say the Royce's supposedly had a blood feud going on with the Graftons, she was surprisingly ambivalent about the prospect of finally getting rid of them.

I probably should have taken that as a warning that she was preoccupied by something else completely. Me, namely. I'd barely gotten to the rooms assigned to me when one of her servants materialised and asked me if I'd like to join Lady Rhea in her solar for some wine.

"Princess Rhaenyra, I did not expect to see you riding to my liege lady's aid. I must offer you my thanks for defending the Vale from such treachery." For all that her words were praise, her tone was ice cold.

I offered her a warm smile and frantically tried to think of whatever I did that would have pissed her off this badly. I'd last seen her in person twelve years ago and even then it'd been a quick meet and greet. I'd gotten Daemon banished but again, that was hardly something she would be upset about given the way he'd treated her over the years.

"Thank you, Lady Rhea. My cousin is dear to me, I would not see her harmed," I replied. That should be safe enough. Rhea regarded me with a cool look before waving a servant forth to pour wine. I wondered briefly if it could be poisoned before dismissing the thought. Rhea wasn't nearly stupid enough to poison the heir to the Iron Throne in her own keep whilst an army and two dragons were camped outside.

"Dear to you? Or dear to the Blacks?" Rhea asked after she'd taken a sip. Okay, maybe she just doesn't like me bringing my little private war to the Vale and especially to her doorstep?

"To be truthful, both but she is my cousin first. Besides, we women need to stick together," I replied before taking a drink. Honesty seemed to be the best policy with Rhea.

"Oh? Were we 'sticking together' when you fucked my husband?"

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I choked on the wine as a good portion of it went directly up my nose in surprise at the blunt question. Evidently she'd selected drowning in her attempted murder and here I was, like a fool, worried about poison. She was completely silent as I recovered from the shock of the question and her eyes never left me.

"Excuse me?" I managed to croak eventually.

"I believe I was quite clear. Tell me, what does your husband think of the fact you gave your maidenhood away to your uncle?"

I slammed down on my anger hard. I couldn't risk Rhaenyra'ing this into an even more messed up situation than it already was. Evidently, Rhea had believed the rumours that had circled the capital nearly four years ago. As much as I was trying to understand her position, how she must view it, I wanted to rip her face off. How dare she make me out as the villian? I was the victim! Her husband had…

No. Deep breaths.

"Do you know why Jeyne hates your father so much?" I asked after counting to ten several times. Rhea raised an eyebrow at the seeming change in topic but nodded eventually.

"He isolated her, tried to control her, sent her allies away from her," I recapped.

"I am aware. How does this relate to your indiscretions?"

"There was no indiscretion!" Damn it. Reign it in. Don't offend her, be nice. She knows her husband, she knows what he's like. Keep calm. My fingers ached but any sign of fidgeting would likely convince Rhea I was lying.

"Then tell me Princess, if he did not take your maidenhead, how did he earn his banishment?" She asked. I grimaced.

"He came to court during a tourney and made it clear he wanted me. I was fourteen, I'd seen how he'd treated Alicent and how he treated you, I knew what he was like and I… I wanted none of it but he did not stop! Would not stop! I did everything I could to get him to leave me alone. Even Alicent put aside our differences to help, so blatant were his wrongdoings," I sounded like I was on the verge of tears. Scratch that, I was on the verge of tears. The old terror of knowing what he was capable of, knowing what he'd do if encouraged was coming to the fore.

It had been all well and good to sit and tell myself that he would not, could not, act so overtly. That my status as Princess and his niece protected me, that I knew the future and as long as everything was on track I could beat him with ease. Faced with the Rogue Prince in all his terrible glory, I'd been less certain.

"Even Lady Rhaenys came to help but he had Viserys on his side. He had her sent away and then took her role as my flight instructor, no matter where I went he was always present. I went… I went to Driftmark, I offered to marry Laenor then and there. He would have gotten what he wanted if I hadn't, Viserys was wavering! He had my father call me back so I…" Tears forced me to pause.

I wasn't proud of how I'd chosen to get rid of Daemon but I'd been terrified. I'd started off so certain Viserys would betroth me to Laenor, that he'd refuse to annul the marriage between Rhea and Daemon but Daemon had been longer at court this time. Viserys had been wavering as Daemon spun him tale after tale of how miserable his life was with a wife like Rhea. If Viserys had given in, Daemon would never have stopped until he had me and once he had me, he'd never let go.

"I.. I invited him to my rooms. I goaded him, I said awful things and I pushed and I pushed until he got angry," I risked a glance at Rhea. Her eyes were blazing with rage but I didn't think it was directed at me anymore. In fact when she noticed me looking, her eyes softened just a little.

"He struck you?" she asked finally, as I struggled to get my breathing under control. I was crying in truth now and my aunt handed me a handkerchief. I took it gratefully.

"He knocked me to the floor. I had a knife f-for my protection but he-" I held up my aching fingers for Rhea to examine. She did so, cool fingers pulling my hand closer.

"He broke your fingers. Your Maester did a shoddy job with healing these," she noted as her probing touch found the misshapen part of the bone. I laughed, I couldn't help it and she shot me a startled look.

"Grand Maester Runciter was a piss-poor healer. Laenor never believes me. Mellos is even worse," I explained at her questioning look. It probably wasn't time to delve into my planned war against the Maesters, I'd probably sound unhinged. She let my hand go and sat back in her chair and I began massaging the ache away now that I didn't have to fear her misunderstanding the action.

"What happened next?" she asked.

"Ser Criston saved me. I don't know what Daemon would have done had he not been there. He was so, so angry. He drew Dark Sister and was ranting and raving and… Ser Criston heard and came to my rescue." The truth of the matter was Ser Criston had been lying in wait for Daemon. I'd expected him to hit me, curse at me… The memory of his foot snapping my fingers around the hilt of the dagger made me want to retch.

"I see. Then your father banished him only after he'd physically harmed his daughter." Her face twisted in distaste. I wasn't surprised she hadn't known. Viserys had covered the whole thing up, ordered the guards and servants to silence and cracked down hard on anyone who spoke of Daemon at all. "What did you say to goad him?"

"I… It was cruel." I said, swallowing heavily. Rhea raised her eyebrow and I realised I had no way of escaping this line of questing. Not in a way she would accept. Shame rolled in my gut as I told her. "I taunted him about… about h-his bastard. The one he lost to the storm."

"Cruel? Perhaps but you did what was necessary to defend yourself. Your father is a fool for letting it get that far," Rhea said. I took a few shaky breaths and let out a watery chuckle.

"At a guess, Viserys covered for his brother as he has always done and refused to address the rumours," Rhea sighed after a few moments of silence broken only by my hiccups and sniffles.

"Alicent was quick to spread the rumours you likely heard," I told her, nodding. She believed I'd capitalised on the incident to get the betrothal to Laenor and his vast amounts of Velaryon gold secured. I couldn't exactly tell her that it did not matter what I did, that Viserys was intending the betrothal anyway, she believed I'd betrayed our alliance first. The rumours had been her vengeance.

"Of course. I will have to pay her back in kind for shaming me so," Rhea snorted. I wasn't going to interact with that. Rhea was a proud woman and the rumours had clearly angered her. She'd been embarrassed by the thought of Daemon carrying on in full view of the court with me and engineered a confrontation only to be proved wrong.

Twice the humiliation and now she had a target for revenge.

"Lord Denys would have me believe this notion of Jeyne's to seize Gulltown has your full support," she stated finally, jarring me from my thoughts.

"I suggested it in truth. Jeyne did not want to do so but agreed as long as you gave your support."

"Surprising, I would not think Jeyne gave much thought to anything I did," she said, as if challenging me to prove her wrong. I took a deep breath. If I let what had happened between Daemon and I, the old fear and self-recrimination, stop me from bring Rhea and Jeyne together then he would have won.

And I was not going to let him win.

"Jeyne is the first female ruler of the Vale and we are in a time where the role of women is questioned. I would hazard a guess that you could name one man who is representative of that. The one you'll always hate because he's the one you think of when men make out your aren't worthy of your seat," Rhea frowned at me and I realised that person was likely Daemon. Heedless, I forged on. "That person for Jeyne is your father. He made her feel unsafe and for the first time in her life she was unsafe because she was woman. She likely sees him in every sneer, every vaguely disloyal vassal."

"So you would have me grovel for the sins of my father?" asked Rhea, archly. I shook my head. Rhea was too proud to admit any wrongdoing on her part but even if she wasn't having a complete dick for a father was not illegal. If it were, we'd be sharing a cell.

"I would have you make common cause with her. As long as Royce and Arryn are split, both are vulnerable," I urged. "You're father died before Jeyne could truly gain closure, confront your father over what he had done. Mayhaps if you and her find common cause to succeed where he was so certain you'd fail, she can move past it."

Rhea was silent for some time, mulling over my words.

"I will speak to her tomorrow. I can not promise anything," she huffed, finally. It would have to be good enough. The Royce were Jeyne's second most powerful vassal followed closely by the Graftons. If the Graftons were taken out of the picture and replaced with Arryns whilst the Royce stood behind her in support it would stop rebellion against Jeyne's rule dead.

I left soon after, hoping that no one could tell that I had been crying. It would simply add fuel to the fire of the rumours that I had slept with Daemon and now his wife had confronted the harlot that had lured her husband from her.

Laenor was no where to be seen so I assumed he was visiting Jon. I felt a pang of… something after that. I wanted someone to hold tonight, someone to reassure me, and he was the only acceptable candidate. I couldn't let anyone else see me vulnerable, it would become a black mark against me. A sign I was only a woman after all, unworthy of being queen. Too emotional.

I coiled up amongst the bedding and squeezed my eyes closed. I had knowledge of the future, I knew the players in this game, knew which way they'd jump if something bad happened so why did I keep messing it up? How did I keep getting people so wrong?

Ser Criston, Prince Daemon… I had to be better. At some point I fell asleep, with only the thoughts of missed possibilities and mistakes to accompany me.

Jeyne and Rhea were missing when we gathered for breakfast the next morning. Not that anyone commented although Jessamyn kept shooting worried glances at the seat that Jeyne would occupy. We were all subdued and I hazarded a guess that no one had slept well the night before judging by the tired eyes and quiet voices. At least Laenor was in fine spirits. I'd been right about my theories in regards to his whereabouts last night, as it turned out.

Breakfast finished and servants appeared to begin clearing the area whilst those of us high enough station were invited to Rhea's solar to discuss the Graftons and what could be done. It seemed that Rhea had made good on her promise to speak to Jeyne because that's where we found the Lady of the Vale, scowling at a cup juice like it had just insulted her. Jessamyn slipped past me and sat next to her, looking to be two seconds away from putting a comforting arm around her. Instead, Jeyne pulled her eyes from the cup and smiled softly.

I watched as they stayed like that for a few moments, heart aching with want, until Rhea cleared her throat.

"I have spoken with both Lady Jeyne and Princess Rhaenyra regarding this plot to seize Gulltown," she started. I felt myself tense up, nerves rolling in my gut. "Both have convinced me this is the best course of action in the face of Grafton treachery and so I will do my duty as a Royce of Runestone and a vassal of the Vale and support my liege lady in this."

If my sigh of relief were audible, no one commented.

"Lady Rhea has some valuable information regarding Gulltown's defences," Jeyne said. "It seems Ser Roland returned with about two thirds of the men we sent running from the Gate of the Moon. The entire city has been on alert and Lord Grafton has been raising men from the surrounding villages."

"He intends to force a siege. He hopes that political pressure from a long engagement will force you to the negotiating table," said Lord Gerold.

"He may be right. Already Lord Corbray and Lord Hunter write to me of their displeasure at my march," said Jeyne, gesturing at Rhea's desk. Two letters bearing the ravens of House Corbray and the arrows of House Hunter.

"They protest because Lord Grafton's sister is married to Lord Gawen Corbray and Lord Hunter is Gawen's Goodbrother. They will not rise for Lord Humfrey but honour demands they do something," said Lord Denys. Jeyne grimaced but nodded.

"He has no other potential allies in the Vale. His son's wife is a Manderly but I would warrant they wouldn't ride to his defence, even if they could get here in time," Lord Gerold said, placing a fatherly hand on Jeyne's shoulder.

"If it helps I can send a few galleys to the Sisters as a show of support. Driftmark still has a sizable home fleet, it would be no trouble," Laenor told her, eyes eager. I watched Jeyne carefully, hoping she would not get cold feet. To attaint an entire line was no small thing. Finally I saw her give in.

"Very well, you've all made your points. Lady Rhea, I will need to borrow your Maester to send out my decision to the Vale."

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"My Lady, I have always been a loyal vassal-"

"Lord Humfrey, your kinsman aided in treachery most foul. He brought mercenaries and Grafton men to siege me in the Eyrie itself!" said Jeyne, tone like ice. Lord Humfrey flinched and glanced around the pavilion, looking for allies.

He was seated opposite us with only a table as his defence. We'd arrived at Gulltown with Royce, Redfort and Waynwood troops ready for a siege. Lord Humfrey had called for a parley which Jeyne had been happy to grant. I'd made sure the soon to be ex-lord of Gulltown got a good look at Syrax and Seasmoke before he'd been presented with bread and salt.

Lady Rhea was seated to Jeyne's left, a sign that Royce and Arryn were united once more even if the personal rift between the two women would take far longer to heal. The fact that Rhea was looking at Lord Humfrey with a savage glee in her eyes and small smile playing about her lips was likely not all that reassuring. Sat to Jeyne's right, I kept my face neutral meeting his eyes with cool disinterest in the plea they conveyed. Finally, to Rhea's left sat Lord Denys and Lord Gerold. Judging from Lord Humfrey's defeated look, he hadn't found reassurance in their corner either.

"My kinsman, My Lady! I will hand over Ser Roland gladly for he is a traitor but I am not," he whined.

"And yet the mercenaries were brought in via Gulltown and Ser Roland raised an army from your lands. Do you claim to know nothing of this?" asked Jeyne. Lord Humfrey flushed, there was no good answer to that question.

"I understand I have failed you, My Lady, but failure does not warrant this judgement," he replied after a moment or two. I heard Lord Denys snort from his seat and Lord Gerold hush him quickly.

"Forgive me, Lord Humfrey, I fail to see how it does not. Your incompetence let an army of enemies into the Vale and men of your family raised another from your own lands. A lord who does not notice that is not fit to be a lord," Jeyne declared. Lord Humfrey glared at her before deciding to change tact, losing his snivelling demeanour. He straightened in his seat and his face became a sneer of anger.

"The Lords of the Vale will not stand for this travesty of justice!" he bellowed, rising to his feet.

"The Lords of the Vale already approve," Lady Rhea all but sneered at him, gesturing to Lord Waynwood and Redfort.

"And what of you, My Lords? What will you do when this… this deviant harlot comes for your lands?" asked Lord Humfrey, face now red with rage. Lord Gerold leapt to his feet, hand on his blade. Well, I suppose that answers whether the Vale lords knew about Jessamyn. Why was it ignored? The Vale of Arryn was the most conservative Kingdom bar none.

"Enough!" barked Lord Denys, pulling Lord Gerold back into his seat. "We will have no problem with Lady Jeyne because we have no intention of betraying her."

"Meet me on the field, Lord Humfrey, and I will have blood for that insult," said Lord Gerold. Lord Humfrey snorted before turning to Laenor and I.

"I suppose I should not be surprised one woman who steals her families birthright should be supported by another?" he asked. Beside me, Laenor's hand came to rest on the sword he'd begun habitually carrying.

"Lady Arryn inherited the Eyrie in accordance with Andal customs. The preference for male heirs comes from the laws of the First Men, I believe, such as the Shetts?" Grafton flushed in rage at the reminder. "And as for my situation, King Jaehaerys proved a King has the right to choose his heir when he chose Prince Baelon over Princess Rhaenys. If he had followed Andal custom, I'd be married to Prince Laenor and bowing to his mother,"

Laenor snickered at the thought as I watched as Grafton stood there, fists clenching uselessly as even in his anger he was unwilling to break guest right.

"I reject your terms of peaceful surrender. I name you a whore, a pretender who sullies the title she stole! You would have the whole Vale follow you into deviancy! I know what you are, Jeyne Arryn, you can take my city from my cold, dead hands!"

"Don't worry, Lord Humfrey, I will!" called Jeyne to his retreating back. After his men had finished filing out and we were left alone, Jeyne dropped her head into her hands and groaned.

"I suppose it was too much to hope he'd surrender peacefully?" she asked.

"A great shame," said Lord Gerold, not sounding particularly upset. His eyes were still fixed on where Lord Humfrey had stood until moments ago, pale with rage.

"So, we must siege the city," said Laenor. He hadn't been keen on the idea, hoping Lord Grafton would see sense. Starving the Graftons out would be impossible which meant taking the walls and street fighting. Our army wasn't big enough to throw away lives so deploying the dragons was almost guaranteed which meant Gulltown may well be reduced to cinders in the process.

"Not necessarily," Lady Rhea replied. "Did you see the sigils on some of those guardsmen?"

"Arryn men. They heard our demand that Grafton turn the city over to the Arryns of Gulltown and will relay it too their masters. Grafton knows this too," supplied Lord Denys.

"Which means either the Arryns let us in or Lord Grafton has to somehow get the Arryns out," I said, seeing the logic. "Did you plan for that?"

"Lord Grafton likely thought he was threatening me by bringing the guards of my kinsman to confront me. Instead, he's sealed the fate of his city," Said Jeyne. "Although I confess we did not plan for it. The original plan was to have your dragons burn the gates and pray to the Seven the fires did not spread too far and too fast."

"I'm just relieved I will not need to burn a city today," replied Laenor and I nodded with him. Jeyne smiled and then frowned.

"My Lords and Ladies, could you leave me to discuss a personal matter with my cousin?" They all filed out, Jessamyn with a look of concern etched upon her face.

"I suppose you heard his parting insult to me?" she asked, once we were alone.

"I did wonder how you were getting away with being so obvious," I replied and Jeyne blushed.

"You do not care?" she asked, surprise in her voice.

"Rhaenyra is not one to judge any man or woman based on who they love," said Laenor.

"I had heard… rumours," began Jeyne, hesitantly.

"About Joffrey and I? They were true. Rhaenyra knew even before our marriage," Laenor told her before I could incriminate myself. Jeyne sat back and let out a sigh of relief.

"I did not wish to enter into our alliance proper without telling you but it is a hard thing to bring up. As for being obvious, well there's a degree of deniability in the Vale. It's not like elsewhere, as long as they do not see us actively engaging in such behaviour they will not bring it up." I raised an eyebrow and she blushed again. That did not sound like Westeros, in fact, that sounded far too good to be true.

"I fear this business has me out of sorts if my tongue is failing me so," she said. "If they bring it up with no proof, it is considered a mark against them that they were even thinking about something like that. Something no highborn man or woman would ever do even if it were possible. Since no one has anyway of proving it unless I am caught in the act… It's not ideal for those of us who love that way in the Vale but it's better than a lot of Westeros. You truly do not care? I confess my Vale Lords will not speak of it but Alicent will surely spread the rumours, it could damage the Black faction immeasurably."

She was right, of course, but then if Alicent found out about a lot of things it would damage the Black faction. Laenor, for instance. Myself, for another. Even if the alliance with the Vale was not on the cards, I was not going to shame a woman who loved another woman.

"I do not mind. As long as your Vale lords support you," I replied. Jeyne smiled in relief and then surged forward, throwing her arms around my neck.

"Jess was right. You are something else entirely," she mumbled. I heard Laenor snort in amusement as she drew back.

"Have you put our notion of clan hunting to Lord Denys and Lord Gerold?" I asked, needing an excuse to move away from more awkward topics of conversation.

"Not to them yet but I made mention of it to Lady Rhea. She says if we truly intend to go through with it there are men who live in her lands who are better acquainted with the clans than strictly legal. She will give as many as possible to us as guides and trainers," Jeyne said, after a moment of studying me with pursed lips. "She also pointed out that funding such a force would be a problem for the Vale lords alone, to say nothing of the upfront cost."

"House Velaryon can provide loans to that effect," said Laenor, before I could reply.

"In return for a healthy amount of future profits, I imagine?" Jeyne snorted.

"We can discuss that when we draw up the contract," Laenor replied diplomatically. Maybe I should make Laenor my Master of Coin? He seems to have a nose for making a profit. First, the timber from Lord Wendwater and now mines in the Vale.

The rest of the day was filled with waiting. Lady Rhea was certain that if either the Graftons or Arryns were going to strike at one another it would be during the night. It seemed Rhea had taken her houses enmity with the Graftons seriously because she'd gone out of her way to have her spies produce a reasonably detailed picture of all the 'VIPs' that resided in Gulltown.

According to her, Terrance Arryn was the type to strike in the evening as the guards were changing. Rhea also told us it was unlikely he would strike first. As High as Honour, he followed his house words with almost religious fervor. If he swore to Lord Grafton, he'd follow him, even if betrayal would benefit him better. Still, all was not lost, he wasn't a stupid man, he always left himself wiggle room.

If the Graftons made their move first it would be during the hour of ghosts, just before the sun rose, and it would be a show of overwhelming force to cow Gulltown into submission and quell any traitorous thoughts. Rhea thought this to be much more likely. Humfrey would be spoiling for a fight after his show in the pavilion earned him nothing but sneers in return and he was not likely viewing Ser Arryn in a positive light right now.

The day gave way to evening with no sign of any change within the city. I was tense but Laenor insisted I try to rest. Night saw my curled up on an impossibly uncomfortable camp bed, shivering under a completely inadequate blanket. Somehow I fell asleep only to be shaken awake in the early hours by Laenor, informing me that smoke had been seen above Gulltown. I got dressed as quickly as possible with Falena's help and followed him out into the camp.

As I made my way to the pavilion, I could just make out the smoke clouds that were beginning to rise over the city although it was hard with the blackness of the sky. Around me the camp was coming to life as soldiers were shaken awake and preparing for battle. It seemed Rhea had an unrecorded gift for precognition.

"-has likely been preparing this since he knew we intended to hand Gulltown to him. I doubt we will need to go to his aid, he's a tricky one." Rhea was saying as I entered.

"I could fly over the city and have Syrax roar a bit to encourage Grafton men to remember where their loyalty lies?" I suggested. Denys hummed thoughtfully before glancing at Gerold.

"It could cause a panic which would hinder the Arryn men if they have a plan to take the city," he said after a moment of thought.

"Or incite the Grafton men to throw down their weapons if they believe the Arryns taking the city to be preferable to fighting a dragon," Laenor pointed out from my side.

"We'll keep it back. For now our men will march towards the city and see if the Arryn's open the gates," decided Lord Denys.

Butterflies stirred in my gut as I found Syrax, saddled and ready to fly. Around me, men flowed forward towards the city. From a small distance away, I heard Seasmoke bellowing and Syrax shifted at the noise. She was as agitated as I was, sensing a fight coming. I climbed aboard her and made myself ready, a task made harder by her increased shifting and shuffling. After I was secure on her back, I calmed her with gentle brushes to the soft skin behind her horns and she went still as my fingers danced along the most vulnerable part of her body. It would never get old to me that dragons, the fire breathing terrors of the sky, loved and adored head pats.

"The gates are open! Go! Go! Move into the city!"

The army surged forward and I could see that the gates were, indeed, open and displaying the Arryn sigil. Syrax tensed again at the sudden cries and shouts as the men ran forth, seeming more like a disorganised mob than a true army.

"Arryn! For the Vale!"

"Ironoaks! Ironoaks!"

"Strong as Stone! Redfort! Redfort!"

"Royce! Royce! Royce!"

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Syrax soared over the city, giving me a perfect view of the fall of Gulltown, despite the darkness.

It had been Arryn men that had opened the gates. The main bulk of the army streamed through them, following Lord Redfort's banners, whilst some peeled off with the Waynwood banners. I noted Lord Denys' men seemed to be heading for the Keep the Grafton's called home. Laenor circled them with Seasmoke before following the green and black soldiers.

I followed Lord Redfort's men. Ahead of them, forming up by a set of defensive walls that split the docks from the city proper in what could have been a market square, the Grafton men gathered. They were forming into rows and using the narrow streets to their advantage. In order to reach them, Jeyne's army would have to march through a hail of arrows and then straight into spearmen. Flanking would not be possible.

I watched as Lord Redfort began forming his men up, the heavily armoured dismounted knights to the front. Able to survive the arrow fire but the spears would be more difficult to navigate for them. He had archers of his own but the Grafton commander had effectively taken them out of the game with his positioning whilst giving his own archers a killing field.

I waited until the Knights began moving through the alleyways and the Grafton's attention was taken up by them before urging Syrax into a shallow dive, pressing myself against her back. I heard screams as she trailed her massive claws through the Grafton men like she was so fond of doing when flying over the sea. I could here the Grafton commander screaming for his men to form up and hold even as Syrax scattered them. Those that did not get out of her way died.

Syrax pulled out of her dive and took me up, only to nearly collide with Laenor who was urging his own Seasmoke on with some urgency if the crack of his whip was any indication.

I could barely make him out on Seasmoke's back. I watched as he soared over the walls to sounds of dismay from the men on the other side of it. He pushed Seasmoke on and the circled back round. The ships, I realised, feeling like an idiot. There were ships in the bay and they didn't look like they were keen on staying in the city to watch the fighting. Instead of setting them alight, he turned Seasmoke's breath on the sea. I watched as it boiled and rose into a thick mist.

Oh, that boy is a genius.

I turned back to the Grafton men and the skirmish below me. They'd reorganised their formation but I could see the bodies of their fallen comrades. Bodies Syrax and myself had caused. Bile rose in my throat and I just had the time to turn my head before I threw up.

As if sensing my distress, Syrax gave a great bellowing roar but I was barely paying attention. I'd killed people. I'd had Syrax tear them apart, left them bloody messes and smears on the cobble and I'd killed them… I threw up again.

I snapped out of my daze in time to see Lord Gerold's banners reach the Grafton men. My distraction had done it's job. The spearmen no longer had the advantage of the alleyways and were forced to fall back into a semicircle, protecting the archers that fired volley after volley over their heads. Even though plate was damned near impossible to punch through with arrows, I could see the occasional knight fall to a lucky shot.

Sweat prickled across my skin and I shuddered with sudden coldness. I could break those lines with ease. I retched again at the thought but there was nothing left in my stomach to bring up.

I pushed Syrax to begin her descent again, the yellow-green dragon bellowing her anger at my distress. The Grafton commander was yelling at his men, screaming for them to focus on the knights and not the dragon but the lines broke as Syrax tore through them again. A few braver archers managed to snap shots off in my direction, I could hear the arrows whistle by, but none hit me. As Syrax pulled up again, the Knights moved in and began the slaughter.

Without the advantage of the terrain and the protection of formation fighting the Grafton men were mere sport for the heavily armoured and well trained Vale knights. Within minutes those that were left began surrendering. I gave Syrax a light strike with the whip and she obediently began circling for a good landing spot.

"I must thank you, Princess Rhaenyra. I wasn't looking forward to breaking those Grafton lines! Just our luck to end up with the only competent Grafton facing us!" Lord Gerold bellowed as I clambered down from Syrax. My legs felt like jelly and if it hadn't been for him speeding forward catching me, I would have fallen on my face as my legs decided to go on strike. I'd landed in the plaza once his men had cleared most of those that had surrendered. The last of them were being hauled off by the Arryn and Redfort knights. The ground was still littered with the dead and sharp scent of blood had me retching again.

"First fight takes you the hardest. Deep breaths," he murmured, arm flung around my shoulder as if he were congratulating me on the victory and not the sole reason I was still on my feet. "Bring the Princess some wine! She's the only reason half you sorry lot are alive! I think she's earned it!"

A wineskin was pushed into my hands by a nervous looking young man in Redfort livery. I drank and retched again at the cloying sweetness of it.

"Good lass, keep drinking. You did well, you kept going, you kept your head," his praise was spoken in a low voice so that his men could not hear. I did as he said. Smoke rose from the outskirts of Gulltown. I jumped as Lord Gerold's cloak fell about my shoulders and I realised I had been shivering.

"My boy is off chasing the last of the bastards, your Laenor parked his dragon by the Gull Tower and the Shetts all but pissed themselves surrendering. Good thinking stopping the ships that way, got a good head on his shoulders that boy. More wine for the Princess!"

The empty wineskin was taken away and replaced someone else's. I drank, teeth clattering against the wooden rim. Across the courtyard, Lord Denys rode in with his knights. It took him no time at all to dismount and cross to us, his face bearing a fierce grin.

"The keep surrendered when they realised their Lord was sitting in the harbour like a useless lump. Lady Arryn and Lady Royce are setting up there now. If you want to see dear Humfrey grovel I'd suggest we head there now," he told us.

"Oh, I want to see that very much. Got your legs back yet, Princess?"

I took a few experimental steps. Wobbly but at least I didn't fall flat on my face. Lord Gerold clapped me on the back and shouted for horses.

"Don't worry too much about it, everyone's first kill takes them hard. It takes a man not in his right mind to enjoy killing," said Lord Denys softly.

"Thank you, my lords." My voice was ragged and I suppressed a wince. I would need to see to that if I was going to speak to Lord Humfrey. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing anything he'd done caused me distress.

We rode to the keep with a small escort of soldiers. Lord Gerold kept up an idle chatter for most of the way, something I was glad for. I had to sort through my thoughts. I had killed today. Actually killed. No, I couldn't think about it now. Now I had to be the heir to the Iron Throne. If I wanted to be Queen, I had show everyone I was willing to fight to have it.

"Princess, is that your beast in the bay?" Lord Denys asked, interrupted Lord Gerold's stream of chatter. I followed his gaze to see Syrax floating on top of the water. I fought the urge to giggle at the sight.

"Yes, that's Syrax. She's fond of water."

"Can she fly out of water? Or does she climb out like a lizard lion?" asked Lord Gerold, seemingly out of genuine curiosity but I wouldn't put it past him to be asking to take my mind off the fact I had ki… No.

"It's more like a jump really. They dive and then push themselves out before flying normally. Syrax does it when she wants to catch fish."

"Dragons eat fish?" came the surprised murmur of a knight I didn't know the name of. Lord Denys shot him a look of warning.

"Dragons will eat anything they can half reduce to ash first. I've seen baby ones chew on charred plants and bushes," I said with a laugh. Yeah, that was a weird quirk I'd discovered. Dragons liked their food very well done and it didn't matter what kind of food as long as they had the chance to set it on fire first. Brief dragon physiology lesson over, we made our way into the great hall of what had been the Grafton keep.

The extended Grafton family were seated against the wall, under the watchful eye of Jeyne's men. Jeyne herself had stolen what must have been Lord Humfrey's chair and Lady Rhea flanked on her right, looking very much like the cat who'd gotten the cream. I took the seat to her left and returned the brief smile she shot me with a small one of my own.

After everyone had taken their places, Jeyne made a gesture. A man in Redfort colours stepped forward and bowed, respectfully.

"The city is secured, my lady. We had minimal looting and some fires on the outskirts but there is little actual damage," He told us.

"That is excellent news indeed! What of the prisoners?" she asked, eyeing the Graftons lined up in the hall.

"Ser Laenor prevented any ships from escaping the bay so we have captured all the Graftons that were within the walls at the time of the siege. We making good time on processing the men who surrendered by the docks."

"Good! Good! I will make sure your men are well rewarded for their heroics." The man bowed again, sensing the dismissal. After he'd left, another man was brought forward. I frowned. He was no peasant but he was hardly dressed in a manner I would expect from a Lord. He bowed low though and in a clearly respectful manner.

"My lady! I have come to beg you to reconsider granting Gulltown to your kinsman here! They are no true nobles! They engage in trade, they shame their noble ancestors with copper counting!" His voice was loud, almost a shout. From just beyond Jeyne, I heard Rhea sigh. I watched the man carefully. Was he a Shett? The same Shetts that lost Gulltown to the Graftons after losing a war to the Royces?

"We have the better claim on Gulltown, it was stolen from us by the perfidious Graftons-" Yes, he was.

"I didn't hear you calling us perfidious when you swore to defend us against 'Lady Jeyne's unjust seizure of the city', you snivelling little man!" barked a Grafton woman. One of the knights casually thumped her for speaking out, even as the man puffed up and opened his mouth to argue the point.

"Enough!" Jeyne shouted. "Ser Eustace, I hear your petition but my mind is made up on this front. House Shett has not the resources or expertise to hold Gulltown. Whether you like this or not, Gulltown is centre of trade and the Vale needs a family that understands that trade. However, I will ensure that a suitable amount of land outside the city is placed under your purview for your loyalty to the Arryns."

Ser Eustace bowed again, beaming. Oh! He hadn't really thought he'd get Gulltown. He wanted to see what he could get from Jeyne to strengthen his house and in return, Jeyne gets to preemptively weaken a potentially troublesome vassal without breaking feudal contract.

Gods, I felt like my mind was running at half speed to not spot that.

Another man was brought forth, one I recognised this time. Lord Humfrey Grafton. His nose was broken and his doublet stained with blood but other than that he was in good health. The look of pure hate he directed at Jeyne was… wow.

"Lord Grafton. You incited rebellion in the Vale, you refused my lawful proclamations and then attempted to flee justice leaving others to die in your place. For this, I would see you dead but honour demands you have a choice. So, a black cloak or the headsman's block?"

Lord Humfrey didn't speak for a while, his eyes flicking each of the Lords and Lady's sitting in judgement before finally he sagged in defeat.

"A pox on you, I will take the black and hope I live to see you die screaming," he spat, furious.

"Bastard! You shame us all!" The same Grafton woman yelled as Humfrey was hauled from the room. The same knight went to thump her but a raised hand and a command from Jeyne had them hauling her forward instead.

"Maris, enough of this. Your Lord Father lost, there has to be consequences," Oh, they knew each other? I watched as Maris stared hard at Jeyne, who just seemed tired rather than incensed at the interruptions. "I will ensure you are taken care of but the Graftons can not remain in control of Gulltown. Mother's Mercy, he brought an army in through it's ports!"

Maris didn't have anything to say to that so Jeyne had her steered away and out of the room. The Graftons were judged after that and Jeyne pulled no punches. All over the age of fourteen were offered death or the wall. Most chose the wall but I was surprised to see some choose death. Many grovelled for forgiveness, others stood defiant in the face of punishment but regardless of how they acted Jeyne remained determined, every inch the Lady of the Vale, through it all.

Afterwards, a man who could only be Terrance Arryn was shown forward. Cunning, let him see what happens to traitors before handing him the city. Also, seriously, Westeros genetics were weird because this guy is several branches removed from Jeyne in the family tree but they could pass as cousins!

"Ser Terrance Arryn. When I proclaimed the Grafton line attainted, you alone rallied to my banner. It was your heroic actions that saved Gulltown from destruction!" declared Jeyne. Bullcrap, he waited for Grafton to betray him then betrayed Grafton right back.

"I merely did my duty as your kinsman," replied Ser Terrance, full of false modesty.

"A duty you performed admirably. It is my decision to raise you to Lord of Gulltown, do you accept?"

"It would be my greatest honour to rule Gulltown in your name, Lady Arryn," he said, bowing once more. Around the room, Grafton faces glared at the man with hate.

"Then I do pronounce you Lord Terrance Arryn of Gulltown! My your line rule fairly and justly from this moment until the end of time!"

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Leonie46

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Threadmarks Chapter 16

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Leonie46

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#22

Naturally, Lord Arryn's elevation warranted a feast. As a royal and cousin of the current ruler of the Vale, I was exempt from helping with the preparations but it was pretty much a requirement that I stay to attend. My stay in the Vale had lasted much longer than I thought it would and had involved considerably more fighting and sieges than I'd been expecting.

Word had gotten back to Viserys and he wanted me back in the capital.

Awesome.

That knowledge hung over my like the sword of Damocles. That he was angry with me was a given. The question was how angry and whether I could navigate my way into a chance to explain without Alicent present and muttering in his ear. To distract myself, I offered to play chauffeur to Lady Rhea who had business in Runestone and had never ridden on a dragon before.

Besides, Syrax could use the exercise. She'd done nothing but swim, fish and terrify the local populace and I had no intention of creating the Syrax of the original time line. Not that Syrax approved of my ongoing mission to prevent her from becoming the laziest dragon in existence, I think she would love the idea of having dinner delivered right to her face every day.

As much as it pains me to admit now, I hadn't set out to acquire Syrax. I'd wanted Silverwing for the associations with Good Queen Alysanne. I'd set off on the mountain that day with tips from the locals as to where she'd been seen last and sheer determination, only to run across Syrax a mile into my trek. She followed me across the Dragonmont making screeching noises the entire way. I never found found Silverwing and Syrax had been very insistent.

And now? I wouldn't chose Silverwing even if I had the choice. I'd grown fond of my lazy, greedy lizard.

It turned out that Rhea's business was going to take a couple of days. Her nephew had been left in charge of the castle and had sent several alarmed letters back regarding a dispute he'd been asked to settle in Rhea's absence. So I distracted myself with exploring Runestone. Or rather, seeing if I could solve the mystery of why the Keep seemed to ignore the erosion of the cliff. Asking the staff yielded no useful answers, most simply told me it had always been like that and always would be. A few old timers could remember a time when the cliff had been less eroded but it didn't explain why the castle was ignoring it.

Flummoxed, my next stop was Rhea's library. The Royces were an ancient House that could trace the ancestry back to the Bronze Kings in the Age of Heroes and they had the records to prove it. Records that were religiously maintained in defiance of the passage of time.

"I must say, it's nice to see that you take an interest in history, Your Grace," Rhea's ancient Maester told me as he retrieved several books he thought might pertain to the building of Runestone.

"Lady Royce is my aunt. I have been unforgivably rude in not learning her House's history," I replied. The Maester nodded and continued sorting through the stacks.

"Ah, here it is! This book makes mention of several parts of the castle that no longer exist. According to Maester Hugh, they fell into the sea over a hundred years ago!" He handed me the book. The book went into some detail about upgrades and extensions a series of ambitious Bronze Kings had made to the keep after successfully conquering a portion of land that belonged to another king. A few years after the conquest there had been a great accident and the cliff had given way, plunging everything but the original keep into the seas below.

That… okay, that points to something odd going on here.

"Everything but the original keep fell?" I asked. The Maester nodded. "Nobody investigated why?"

"The cliffs are treacherous, Your Grace. Waves smash boats into the rocks and the current can pull even the strongest swimmers beneath the waves. They've no need to besides, fishing has always been poor here," he explained.

He left me to my reading after that. Most of the books were more interested in the different kings that had occupied Runestone and what political pressures had lead to their changing of the keep. Of all the different changes and alterations I was forced to return to one single fact. Anything that wasn't the original keep eventually fell prey to the waves below or the various winter storms that blew in from the sea.

Well that was wrong actually. There was apparently the overgrown remains of an entirely new keep one of the later Bronze Kings had raised somewhere to the west. It had fallen into disuse after his death when his nephew moved the court back to Runestone. So what was so special about Runestone? Why did the Royces, a house of kings, keep coming back to it again and again? It was a fine keep for lords but kings?

I hit jackpot half way through a book about the myths and legends of the Vale by some guy called Maester Ulf. Brandon the Builder.

This guy certainly got around. He'd apparently built Winterfell, the Wall, Storm's End and now this book claims he was also involved in the building of Runestone. The Builder is said to have weaved spells into the foundations of Winterfell, perhaps he did so here? If so, perhaps I could see them if I took Syrax down. A quick check with the servant told me Rhea was still hip deep in the dispute her nephew had fouled up so I gave the order for Syrax to be saddled and changed into my riding outfit.

I didn't head straight to the cliffs. It was a beautiful day so I let Syrax play amongst the clouds for a while, allowing myself to relax on her back as she chased any bird unfortunate to cross her path.

Eventually I nudged her towards the cliffs and the defiant spit of land that bore Runestone. Which was when Syrax began behaving very strangely. I could feel a change run through her body as she moved in closer. She was hanging back as if the cliffs were scaring her. I rubbed the back of her head and cooed reassuringly at her. It still took five minutes of darting back and forth before she summoned the nerve to take me closer, although I could tell she still wasn't happy.

As I came in closer, I saw the slabs. Or at least, the bottom of them. The top halves were covered in dirt and soil from the overhang of the cliff. They were huge! How had everyone missed them? Then I realised. Ships avoided this stretch of the bay if they came here at all, they docked further east at a small town that fell under the Royce's purview and nobody actually standing on the cliff could see them due to the overhang.

That was no accident, surely?

But the cliff had eroded slowly, so had the slabs been buried? Did they form a perfect ring around the keep?

Syrax fought against me as I urged her closer but I needed to see what the deal with those slabs were. No book had mentioned them, no servant had seen them as worth mentioning - surely someone had found them before?

Oh, more evidence for Brandon being responsible for this! There was definitely some kind of runes etched on there, although with the way Syrax was avoiding the cliff face it made it hard see. A few light strikes with the whip and I managed to get her to hold her position opposite one of the slabs, massive wings beating at a pace most would say impossible. Up close, they were even more awe inspiring. Each as tall as a man and as broad as twice that, they were engraved with the ancient spiky runes of the first men.

They'd definitely been buried, I could see the way their sheer weight had pushed through the rock over time. A shiver interrupted me and I wished I'd brought my cloak. It had seemed to so nice out earlier so I hadn't thought to. Carefully, I unfastened myself from Syrax's saddle and gripped her horns, hauling myself closer to the runes. The slabs themselves were freezing. I could feel them through my glove as I ran my hand along the stones, tracing the etchings…

Ice flowed through me, freezing me to the bone. First there was pain, such pain, and then blessed numbness. I felt as if I was drowning in the cold, my throat burning as I attempted to breath. Syrax gave a bellow of rage and dived, almost flinging me from her back. I somehow held on, more out of muscle memory than any real thought from myself. I could see my breath in the air despite the blazing sun above. We hit the water and I was thrown clear of my mount. The ice burned again and I screamed, even as felt water fill my lungs.

And then just as soon as the cold had come, it left me. I broke the surface of the water and swam forwards, wrapping my arm around Syrax. She gave a bellow of something I almost thought was fear and then…

Heat. Heat like standing next to Syrax's flames. I burned in it, cooking and boiling in my own skin. Trapped as it grew inside me until I was sure I would blister with the intensity of it. It's oppressiveness drove the air from my longs, robbing me of my ability to scream. I wanted to cry, to yell, to beg whoever was listening to make it all stop. I drowned in the heat, in the blazing fire that rose within in me until it burned itself out finally, leaving me in the cinders.

"What do you mean you don't kn-"

"-buy us some time-"

"-broken at least-"

I opened my eyes. I was in a Maester tower, I realised, brain fuzzily making connections. What had happened? My limbs felt as if someone had tied weights to them, my head felt as if it was filled with wool and my eyes burned and stung. I tried to push myself upright but found myself choking and coughing.

"Your Grace! You have awoken!" I twisted my neck and grimaced at the ache it caused in my muscles and the brief feeling of nausea at the movement.

"What happened?" I rasped as the Maester gave rapid fire orders to someone I couldn't quite see.

"We don't know, your dragon bore you back to the castle. You had a fever and were unconscious for several days."

Days!? What the hell happened?

"The feast?" I asked, grimacing as my throat gave a throb of pain. It felt like someone had taken sandpaper to my throat. The Maester pressed blessedly cool water to my lips and I drank greedily.

"Slow sips, Your Grace, you will make yourself sick otherwise. As for the feast, Lady Rhea sent word you were ill and Lady Jeyne insisted on delaying it until you recovered."

I took slower sips and mulled that over. There was a clatter and the door flew open to reveal Rhea, lips pressed into a thin line of annoyance. She strode across the room and waited with folded arms as I finished the last of the water.

"What happened? According to the Maester you were perfectly fine when you mounted Syrax."

That was the million dollar ques- The Slabs!

I'd touched them. Vague memories of the bitter, biting cold that had come from nowhere and heat that had followed. How Syrax had dove into the sea, away from the slabs and their strange etchings. Now how to explain to Rhea her castle had assaulted me? I opened my mouth to speak but she cut me off.

"You are young. You think yourself invincible. Let me assure you though that you are not, the next time you feel ill, tell someone. A simple fever can kill if you ignore it!" she barked. I sighed, that worked better than telling her about the slabs. I suppose that answered the questions I'd had about Runestone though and whether Brandon the Builder had raised it. Magic. Magic created by one of the most legendary figures in Westerosi history and it was in plain view of anyone brave enough to steer a boat up to the coast.

What else was I missing?

"I apologise, Aunt Rhea. I also apologise for delaying the feast, I will fly you to Gulltown on Syrax first thing tomorrow," I promised.

"You most certainly will not! You will be getting in the wheel house and Syrax can fly herself. The Maester said your fever was the worst he'd ever seen, riding Syrax will simply make things worse!"

I grimaced. I hated wheelhouses. Perhaps I could charm Rhea into letting me at least ride a horse to Gulltown?

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Leonie46

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#23

I was not able to convince Lady Rhea to allow me to ride a horse. The Bronze Tyrant kept me in the wheelhouse the entire way back to Gulltown and even the brief trips outside had her standing not far away, ready to raise the alarm if something happened. In one way it was genuinely touching, I'd won myself an ally in Lady Royce when I'd told her the truth about Daemon and I knew her over protective manner was born from worry.

She hadn't brought it up and neither had I but we both knew that Targaryens didn't just catch a fever. We didn't get colds, sore throats or random aches like the rest of Westeros, it had been one of the corner stones of Jaehaerys' doctrine of exceptionalism after all. Any time we got ill it was either deliberate or something so nasty that just catching it meant our lives were in danger. I knew she'd had her staff questioned but I doubt she'd find anything. It was those slabs, the ones I was certain had something to do with The Builder.

I'd finally solved one mystery but it had promptly given me another, greater one to muse on. It would have to take the backseat though. My time in the Vale was coming to an end and I needed to ensure I had the Vale lords loyalty.

"Rhaenyra! Have you recovered?" asked Jeyne, greeting us as I finally escaped the mobile prison Rhea had forced me in to. Lord Terrance was stood behind her, flanked by a younger version of himself that could only be Isembard Arryn. Hopefully he'd be a lot more sympathetic to Jeyne's will this time round with the memory of his families raising in his mind.

"Well enough. I wanted to fly but I was strictly forbidden." As if on cue, Syrax plunged us briefly into shadow as she flew over the city towards the sea. I wondered if the harbour master was prepared to deal with navigating ships around a dragon.

"By the Maester's orders!" huffed Rhea from behind me. I was mildly impressed to see no tense reaction from Jeyne as Rhea bowed to her liege lady, instead she managed a small but seemingly genuine smile.

"Lady Rhea's letter said a fever?" I nodded as we made our way inside. Her kinsman fell in step with us. "Forgive me but Ser Laenor was of the opinion that the Maester must be mistaken. It was all I could do to keep him in Gulltown and stop him from alerting every lord here that something was wrong."

"My husband is right, Targaryen's rarely get ill and it is normally serious when it does occur, the Maester said the fever was one of the worst he'd seen. It has passed though and I have recovered my strength." Let's leave the bit about poison out. I don't want to give Jeyne any more reasons to be snotty about Rhea and implying she may have missed a poisoning attempt on the Crown Princess was pretty up there on things to get snotty about.

Jeyne nodded and let the matter lie. It seemed the delay I'd accidentally caused had worked to Jeyne's advantage though. She'd apparently used it to put pressure on her Lords to make their way to Gulltown and within a day of my arrival they'd begun slowly trickling in. I was weary of them. They supported Jeyne nominally but these were the lords that could not have cared less had Jeyne been replaced by Ser Arnold. Treachery by inaction was, unfortunately, not punishable in Westeros unless it was truly egregious.

They were all quick to grovel forgiveness and profusely thank me for exposing Ser Arnold's lack of honour and some of them even managed to make it seem halfway convincing. I'd barely gotten a chance to assure Laenor I was okay before Jeyne, with the most powerful political actors in the Vale present, called a meeting so that we could put the notion of my scouts to them and raise support for the first wide scale proactive move against the clans in a generation.

"A bold plan, Your Grace," said Lord Jon Melcolm, after I'd finished outlining the bare bones of the plan.

"It does not matter if the plan is bold, it will fail as all notions of removing the clans have failed in the past!" sneered Gawen Corbray. Lord Gerold had been right. He wasn't willing to rise for a man who was already on his way to the wall but he sure was bitter about the Graftons getting overthrown. He'd gone so far as to take as many of the displaced house under his protection as he could.

A problem for the future.

"We've all fought the clans, true, and we've all hunted them and lost men for it. Yet no one has seen an effort on the scale in a long time and that campaign saw the High Road cleared for nigh on fifty years!" The current Lord Lynderly was ancient but his voice held steel.

"And if we get enough of the mountains cleared, we can expand mining operations and dig in. We can push them back." Bless Lord Denys. He'd lost a sister to the mountain clans and had taken it hard. He likely viewed the scouts as a vector for revenge.

"It required the entire Vale to be raised to clear the High Road! We can not afford such a campaign like that!" Lord Corbray shouted. I was concerned to see it looked like he had some support in that sentiment. Still, if that was the only objection he could come up with…

"Ser Laenor and I have been discussing funding. With Arryn, Velaryon and Targaryen funds we can keep a small, elite force fighting in the Vale for quite some time," The new Lord of Gulltown informed us all.

"So we can afford to waste the money! You have done nothing to convince me that this will work, that I will not just be sending men to their deaths in those Seven forsaken mountains."

"Lord Corbray, calm yourself!" Jeyne commanded. The Lord threw himself back into his chair, eyes blazing with hate and looking very much like a child having a tantrum.

"Forgive me, I'm very much eager for a chance to expand my iron mines but I am confused as to how this will work. From the way you've explained it these will be Vale men under the permanent command of the Crown? I do not see the reason." Lord Belmore's tone was full of false confused politeness. He'd been one of those nodding along with Lord Corbray moments ago.

"The Vale as it stands is much weakened by the Mountain clans. In raising a permanent force to fight them back, we strengthen the Vale immeasurably but the simple matter is that the Vale can not afford to do this. My cousin funds two thirds of the unit, will only allow direct command of it to men of the Vale and will only deploy it outside the Vale in times of great strife," explained Jeyne.

"So in practice, we retain control over it at all times, it's stays in the Vale unless Her Grace calls it to service, we pay considerably less than we would for a force of it's size and nature and we get all the benefits with little downsides," Rhea's voice cut in, voice as dry as the Dornish desert, as she spoke for the first time. Rhea and Jeyne's shaky alliance had put many Vale lords on the back foot but it was still early days. Case in point, the venomous look Jeyne shot her for interrupting.

"And how does Her Grace benefit from the arrangement?" asked Lord Lucas, in the same tone of false confusion.

"A professional and experienced fighting force that will aid me if I call the banners of Westeros," I replied. I examined faces. Lord Gerold and Lord Denys were ride or die at this point. Lord Terrance would go along with anything Jeyne suggested up to and probably including setting her up as God-Queen of the Vale. Actually out of all the Lords present, only Lord Gawen seemed set against it. Even his nominal supporters Lord Godric Hunter and Lucas Belmore seemed cautiously interested.

"And the name for this fighting force?" asked Victor Lynderly, gauging the room to be in favour.

"I have a suggestion," said Rhea, turning her gaze to her liege lady. "The Falcons."

Something told me Jeyne liked that idea, from the way she swelled with pride and damn near started preening. At that point, it was simply a matter of sorting out who would pay for what and who's sons would be given precedent for command. I left that to Jeyne, she knew her lords better than I. Surprisingly, she asked that I stay behind to discuss a matter of 'some importance' with her as the Lords filed out.

"It is an awkward request," she said finally. I poured myself a cup of juice and nodded for her to continue. That she seemed jumpy about whatever she was about to ask me had me worried.

"You understand, cousin, I do not wish to insult you with what I ask but… I would not ask if it were not important," she said. My mind was already running through the worst possible scenarios right now. Spit out Jeyne, you're going to give me a heart attack! "I need you to take an extra lady back with you."

My sigh of relief was audible. Oh thank god, at least she wasn't telling me she was actually marrying Aegon or something after all this.

"Of course I can take an extra lady back with me to King's Landing. Falena has already proved her weight in gold!" I told her. Jeyne did not look reassured. "Which of your ladies did you want me to take?"

"Maris Grafton." My train of thought braked hard.

"The mouthy one from the hall after the siege?" I asked.

"Mouthy? Odd way to describe her but accurate, I suppose. Yes, that would be who I am referring to." Damn, I really needed to stop with the anachronisms. "I understand her house is in disgrace currently but…"

Oh, that unhappy look tells me you two have history.

"Are you using me to clear an old lover out of the Vale in a way she can't protest at?" I asked. Blunt but I doubt Jeyne would be overly offended, we'd grown closer these past two months. I watched with delight as she went a vibrant red.

"Love- No! Not Maris! Not that I nev- I mean Jess is the-" I waved my hand to cut her off as I snorted in laughter. She shut up and glared at me but it lacked the bite she reserved for those she was truly angry at.

"Maris was one of my ladies when Lord Yorbert was my regent. She was the only one who stood up to him. 'Mouthy' even then." She said after my giggling had died down to nothing.

Oh, now I got it. She was Jeyne's Rhaenys. No matter what happened, however much of a bad idea it was to trust her, she couldn't forget what she'd done. Like Rhaenys for me, Jeyne couldn't live with herself if she had a chance to return the favour and did not take it.

"I understand, Jeyne, more than you could guess. I'll take your first love back with me and you can tell her you've played the gallant knight in her defence." She went red again and I couldn't resist another parting shot. "I thought the knight was supposed to protect the lady from the dragon though,"

That earned me a slap on the arm that sent it numb for a few minutes after. Not that I cared, I was too busy laughing at Jeyne's excellent tomato impression and stuttering insistence that it 'wasn't like that Rhaenyra, shut up!'.

With the last of the politicking out of the way, I tried to force myself to enjoy my remaining time in the Vale. I'd done everything I'd needed to do and more. Jeyne was mine, I'd gotten myself the first of my armies and started the process of strengthening the Vale. That Viserys was likely five minutes away from resurrecting the Black Dread and flying over to find me in sheer rage was a downside I wasn't looking forward to navigating.

The moment the feast had ended and the Lords began to go home, a pit of dread had opened in my stomach. I almost cried when Jeyne told me Lord Gerold would be coming back to King's Landing with us. She'd already promised to send a Vale delegation to court to at least balance out some of Alicent's influence but I'd assumed they would be following on a few month's behind as most Lord's were still only selecting which heirs and second sons they would send.

"News of the King's displeasure has reached us here, Cousin. Lord Gerold knows your father, he knows what to say to mitigate his anger." Had been her explanation when I'd questioned her on it. I'd never been so glad for her decision to hide my illness than in that moment. It had been a risky move on her part but had it gotten back to Viserys… I dread to think. I was still feeling sick with nerves when our much increased party boarded the ship that would bear us home to King's Landing.

Slightly left of productive

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Leonie46

Oct 7, 2019

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Threadmarks Chapter 18

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Leonie46

Oct 7, 2019

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#24

"Will you miss the Vale, Lord Gerold?" I asked, looking for any conversation topic to distract myself from the upcoming shit show. The docks of King's Landing were in sight and the travel back had been smooth sailing and we'd made good time. In fact, the only thing that had marred the trip back had been Maris Grafton's ongoing reaction to her new position in life. She hadn't taken Jeyne's command well and in the end I'd handed her over to Falena with a heartfelt apology.

"Aye, I reckon I will but it's time my boy got some real experience running the Redfort. He's a man grown now and I'm not going to live forever," he replied. "Besides, it would have been me or Denys and I know Denys is looking forward to your Falcons too much to sit in King's Landing playing politics."

I snorted without meaning to. Lord Denys had barely waited until the feast was over to start sounding out who could send what men and where they could source the equipment needed from.

"You needn't be so worried, Your Grace, Viserys would be a fool to openly censure you for defending the rights of one of his paramount vassals," said Lord Gerold after a while, having picked up on my dread as the docks came closer.

"Not as reassuring as you wish it to be, Viserys is a fool," I muttered after a bitter laugh. "But even if you're right, that just means his punishment will be private and tailored to fucking whatever plans he thinks I have in the works."

Lord Gerold just snorted. If he was bothered by my blatant disrespect for Viserys, he didn't show it. Then again, Jeyne had asked him to come with me solely to make sure Viserys would know I had her support behind me, so she'd evidently briefed him on the matter and he had met the man before. For all that I hoped a private word with Viserys would resolve the matter, I knew that with two months to twist my actions to suit her agenda, Alicent had likely already denied me that route. I had little to no chance of convincing him that I was in the right before Alicent conned him into a very public dressing down.

I was keen to avoid public humiliation and Lord Gerold was my insurance.

If we were to divide the Court up properly, it would be into five distinct factions. The Blacks that look to me for leadership and the Greens that look to Alicent's leadership are the obvious and most powerful. Whilst not the largest factions, even combined, our little war meant each of us had cultivated quite a little bit of political pull in one place because anyone who wished to actively involve themselves in politics had to have picked a side.

Surprisingly, the actual largest of the factions were the Doves. They were the neutral lords, the Neds of the world, who would just like to pretend there wasn't a succession war brewing under their noses and stay at home with the wife and kids. I had always wondered how Viserys had ignored the foundations of the Dance of Dragons being laid right before his eyes and the best I could come up with is blaming these guys. Their faction stretched from the southern Reach to the northern Vale and they all, adamantly, did not want to have a war. Viserys probably assumed that as long as they existed, we would be prevented from truly fighting one another.

Which made the War of Quills make a lot more sense now that I think about it.

The next of the factions of note were the War Hawks. These were mostly minor lordlings, spares and lowborn knights that wanted to fight and didn't care who they went up against. They wanted glory against an enemy and they weren't picky about the enemy. They didn't often raise their voices in court as they were Daemon's biggest supporters outside of Corlys himself, but when they did bother to turn up it was normally with demands for war and sanctions; with Dorne or The Triarchy being their usual focus of attention.

The smallest faction were the Seahorses, as I liked to refer to them. They were mostly made up of Stormlords that traded with Corlys heavily, supplying him the timber that the shipwrights in Hull consumed in vast amounts. Interestingly, they also included the last of Boremund Baratheon's lords that had supported Rhaenys at the Great Council. They mostly deferred to the Blacks as putting me on the Throne meant putting Laenor's children on it in turn but I wasn't foolish enough to assume it was me they were loyal too.

This meant the Blacks, in theory, had four dragons, the War Hawks had one dragon, the Greens had the potential for four dragons and the Doves had nothing.

Which meant Viserys was forced to play politics to keep the Dove faction alive because if war looked likely and they had no dragons for aid, they'd abandon him to whatever faction could seize control of the capital. If Viserys looked to be leaning towards giving into Green pressure or I looked to be too risky to follow, the Doves would start jumping towards Alicent like rats off a sinking ship. If I began making significant inroads into the Green support or Aegon disgraced himself, I'd suddenly be hip deep in Dove lords that were suddenly very willing to uphold Viserys' wishes.

That need to prevent the collapse of the Doves was what Lord Gerold and Jeyne were betting my standing in court on.

Which meant they were also betting on Viserys pulling his head out of his behind long enough to see that. Is it too late to go back to the Eyrie?

I was happy to see the smallfolk had turned out in droves to welcome me back. They lined the streets and cheered for the 'Good Princess Rhaenyra' and the 'Brave Prince Laenor' which, I'm not going to deny, felt really good. Evidently Marya's nascent PR scheme was still going well, I'd have to find some sort of reward for her because this was beyond what I had been expecting from three months of work.

The fact that Viserys had sent an escort to ensure we didn't get lost on our way to the Throne room was less nice. Evidently, Alicent was taking no chances that I could wriggle out of punishment. Even worse was that Ser Criston Cole was leading it with a triumphant smile on his face, a nasty look in his eye and an awful lot of Green knights backing him up.

"Princess Rhaenyra, I have been ordered to escort you to your Father," he told me, as we dismounted the horses. I made a show of stretching, as if the words he had spoken were no great worry.

"You have our thanks, Ser Cole," Laenor replied with false cheer, earning himself a dirty look from the white knight. I dispatched Falena and Maris to my rooms with orders to locate Marya and the Strong twins before taking an excruciatingly long time to organise the belongings we'd picked up in the Eyrie and to make sure Seasmoke and Syrax had actually flown to the Dragonpit and not bunked off to go swimming.

Commanding dragons was a bit hit and miss sometimes. As Crown Princess, I simply couldn't live with myself if something happened to Syrax. Or, more likely, Syrax happened to something.

The fact I could almost hear Criston grinding his teeth at the delay had nothing to do with it.

Viserys evidently hadn't appreciated the wait either because when we finally entered the Throne room he looked livid. Alicent had outdone herself. I could only spot a few Black lords amongst the overwhelming amount of Doves and Greens. My heart jumped when we passed the Velaryon party and I caught Laena's eye. The tall girl was pale and very, very worried and if even Laena could spot the incoming stitch up…

"Daughter, you left so quickly for the Vale of Arryn, I fear you neglected to inform me of your departure." The King's tone was icy and Alicent had never looked more smug so I elected to spring my trump card straight away instead of waiting and baiting Alicent even further. I waved Lord Gerold forward.

"Father, I beg your forgiveness but I departed for the Vale to ride to my Cousin's aid. Foul treachery would have seen her usurped and her own kinsman responsible." Although I was reasonably sure everyone would have known the circumstances of Ser Arnold's little rebellion by now the Throne room still exploded into shocked whispers and cries as the gossip sprang up. Viserys glared them all into silence before turning his eyes on Lord Gerold.

"The Princess speaks truly, Your Grace. Ser Arnold Arryn laid siege to the Eyrie itself. I can scarcely contain the shame that it required the Princess to expose his traitorous actions and not her loyal lords."

Viserys' livid expression became a scowl of annoyance, he couldn't exactly yell at me when there was a Lord of the Vale telling him, without actually saying it, that Jeyne had my back. I was glad to note Alicent had realised that because she suddenly looked significantly less triumphant. Honestly, did she think I would just waltz in here without backup? Scratch that, she probably had. I hadn't exactly shown any particular head for politics before my marriage and she had no way of knowing that it was me and not Corlys pulling the strings behind the Black resurgence I'd been engineering at court before I'd flown off into a small war.

Even though I had to admit I was surprised. Lord Gerold was essentially denying his and Lord Denys' attempt at an intervention, one that proved I hadn't been needed in the Vale to rescue Jeyne, at the expense of his own honour.

"I can only praise both Princess Rhaenyra and Ser Laenor's actions in aiding us in rooting out the traitors and their collaborators. Ser Laenor personally lead a band of knights that put the reforming Grafton army to flight and prevented Humfrey Grafton from fleeing justice at great personal risk. Princess Rhaenyra saved hundreds of lives in the siege of Gulltown by breaking the enemy formations with minimal loss of life. Truly, I do not exaggerate when I say the all of the Vale of Arryn are in their debt."

More murmurs of surprise and a smattering of applause led by Laena, who's smile was reminiscent of Syrax spotting an easy meal. I had no idea she could look so… predatory. Viserys still looked unhappy but at least Alicent's expression now matched it as she realised that even if Viserys was against me, the Lords she'd gathered for my supposed humiliation were not and there were even some of her Greens nodding along in approval at my actions.

"Is this so?" Viserys' asked, a decidedly unfriendly look in his eyes. "Then I can only praise my Daughter's swift actions in defending both the Lady of the Vale and the King's Peace."

"Thank you Father, but I only did my duty as a Targaryen and Heir to the Iron Throne," I replied, trying not to smirk as my parting shot at Alicent struck true.

Oh, she definitely wants to strangle me now.

I may have gotten out of punishment in public but given the fact Viserys' anger still had not abated by the time I left for my rooms, I was still going to get it in the neck in private. Still, my success in the Vale had inspired me to properly plan out a procession through Westeros. Of course, no one else had a succession war to interfere with right now but it never hurt to make it personal by showing up at their house with a fire-breathing dragon. Planning that was abruptly ended when Viserys stormed into my rooms and put my ladies to flight. Even Laena and Laenor had been sent away like small children so that Viserys could have a 'private' word with his daughter. He hadn't bought Criston, at least. This conversation would be going very differently if he'd bought Criston.

"I can scarcely put into words how disappointed I am in you, Rhaenyra," he told me, after he'd tried and failed to stare me out. I settled for rubbing the pain from my fingers and fixing him with my patented neutral court face. Anger flickered over his features and my own rose to match it. I swallowed it down.

"You come to court and tell me you're refusing to fulfil the only duty I am asking of you currently. You gallivant around with the Strong brothers, set my lords fighting amongst themselves and then just as quickly you race off to the Vale, a place you had been told was suffering from the plague!" his voice rose to a shout but I refused to cower. Instead, I said nothing, very aware that my temper and his let loose always resulted in screaming matches.

"You start a war, raise an army on our doorstep and then come home as if you have done nothing wrong! What were you thinking, girl!?" At my silence he stood and slammed his hands down on the armrests of my chair. I couldn't help it, I flinched. He didn't notice, too lost in his anger.

"I make you my heir against the advice of all of my lords! I defend you against all those who believe you are not worthy to rule! And this is how you repay me!? Say something, girl, you are not a mute!"

"I defended my kin. I am defending my right to the Throne." I replied, keeping my voice level. Viserys snorted in anger and threw himself back down in his chair. It creaked ominously at his weight colliding with it.

"Your right to the Throne comes from me. I gave it to you and I can strip it from you just as easily." He wanted me to beg, wanted me on the back foot and worrying about whether he meant it. His violet eyes bored into mine and I refused to give him what he wanted even though I knew it would cost me. I would not let him derail everything I had worked for by constantly waving this threat in front of me.

"Strip me of my right to the throne now and you sign my execution order."

"Seven hells, Rhaenyra! Alicent is your family! Aegon is your family! Neither will kill you for the damned throne!"

"Truly!? Aegon is terrified of me! Alicent hates me! And we all know how that happened don't we, Father?" His lips peeled back into a snarl.

"You and I both know where those rumours came from, Rhaenyra. I seem to recall similar ones regarding yourself," he said coldly and I saw red.

"Oh, without a doubt, except I never actually fucked him, unlike your whore of a wif-"

My airflow was suddenly cut off as Viserys wrapped his hand around my throat. He let out a hoarse scream as I struggled for air, slapping weakly at his arm. He wrenched me to my feet and my back slammed painfully into the wall. Then his face cleared and he dropped me. My legs gave out and the floor rushed to meet me, my hands impacted the floor with a sting I barely felt as I gasped down precious air.

He hooked his hands under my arms, trying to pull me to my feet. The door slammed open and Lorent Marbrand stepped in, sword drawn. Viserys looked up and shook his head. The White Cloak nodded and stepped out. As if the King hadn't just choked out his daughter, as if nothing was wrong.

I wanted to scream and throw something and…

My throat burned and my hand ached. I pushed his help away and used the chair to pull myself to my feet, breathing still ragged. His shaking hand under my chin forced me too look at him. His face was pale but I could tell he was still angry.

"Leave King's Landing. Go back to Dragonstone. Stay there. Be the Heir instead of making a spectacle of yourself," said Viserys quietly. "And if you ever cast such aspersions on Alicent again, you had better hope Daemon wants you on the Stepstones because you certainly won't be wanted here,"

I left him there, sitting and looking at his hands as if he had only just noticed they existed. I rode to the Dragonpit, mounted Syrax and made for Dragonstone. I should have told Laenor, I should have organised my ladies, I should have warned Lord Gerold but I couldn't. I couldn't.

I was numb and aching and scared.

So I went home, the only place I felt safe. He would not take it from me.