A/N: Hi, how you all doing? I hope you all are continuing to be safe and still starting off the new year right.
Been busy with so much stuff, but I've been writing when I can. So without further ado, here is the next chapter.
Daeron grasped the reins of his warhorse as he rode through the streets of Oldtown, with his three-year old nephew Maelor in a carriage, surrounded by members of the Oldtown City Watch and led by Ser Rickard Thorne. Tessarion hovered above, ready to land near her rider should the need arise. While he could've ridden his dragon above in relative safety, the safety of his last remaining nephew was of the utmost importance to him and he needed to make sure that he was close by to him. Helaena would expect nothing less of me.
Daeron had been mostly occupied with keeping the peace at Oldtown with Maelor by his side, but he continued to be informed with the progress of the war due to his mother keeping him in the loop. He had heard about the battle on the Wendwater, Aemond's wedding to Floris Baratheon, and the strategic situation in the northern Reach. He shouldn't have been overly surprised at Aemond burning their own troops at the Wendwater, but he kept to thinking to himself whether Aegon was the only one making things worse for them. "Aemond, you might have married Floris Baratheon, but I don't think Lord Baratheon will forget that you burned his bannermen," he said to himself upon hearing the news.
While Maelor was safe in the Hightower, Aemond, his mother, Lord Cole, and the rest of the small council didn't call him back. He sensed the reason that was so was because they didn't see him as possessing what it took to win the war. It certainly didn't help that they suspected of him having some emotional connection to the other side, although they didn't say it to this face.
Daeron had to also think upon the last time that he had seen his brother, who had been sheltered at Brightwater Keep. Relieved that Sunfyre was still alive and healthy, the guards bowed as he passed by. He must be healing well, isn't he?
But he was soon vindicated in his doubts, as he heard giggling in Aegon's chambers. Daeron scoffed, angered that even during wartime, his pig brother still indulged himself and took care of his own pleasures. Everyone's fighting for him to be on the throne, even myself because I'm his brother, and this is how he repays us? For fuck's sake! He quickly noticed that he cursed.
Barging into the room, Daeron was profoundly shocked at what he had seen. Although heavily scarred and in his night dress, his brother was watching as one of his male companions, who Daeron forgot the name of, coupled with a Florent servant. They were not even on the bed, as the Florent servant and his male companion were having intercourse on the floor. Making it worse was that Aegon was evidently rubbing his cock his good hand, meaning that he was feeling pleasure from it. Daeron felt his hand turn into a fist at the sight. Just when I thought he couldn't sink any lower…
But he was soon proven wrong, as he recognized Septon Eustace in the same chamber, witnessing everything. That's when Daeron realized that Aegon had some idea that what he was doing was wrong, but he thought his weeping in the aftermath would be enough for Eustace to grant him absolution from his sins. Oh, that does it!
Daeron grabbed a wineglass and threw it at the wall, smashing it and the sounds getting everyone's attention. "Get. Out," he ordered them through gritted teeth.
The servant girl and Aegon's male companion got dressed quickly and scurried out of the room. "That includes you, Septon."
"Your Grace," Eustace knew better than to argue with the younger but more able brother.
"What the fuck was that, Daeron?" Aegon was very displeased.
Which didn't match the ire his brother felt. "You do this, while everyone is fighting for you?"
"As they should," Aegon said dismissively.
Daeron huffed. "You can't bed a woman, so you watch others do it? Do you not feel anything for Jaehaerys, for Maelor, for Jaehaera, for Helaena?!"
"Helaena is not pretty enough for me. If I lost children, I can make more."
For the love of the gods! Daeron was horrified at how pitiless his brother was, which could match Aemond's.
"You know what? I'm done, Aegon. I don't care anymore if you live or die. Helaena is a good woman and a great mother, but you couldn't see that. Even if we win, I will actively try not to see you and be far away from you as I can. What you did now, it crossed the line," Daeron declared.
"I don't care. Now, if you are able, please leave," Aegon waved him off.
Daeron shook his head before turning around, getting out of Brightwater Keep, onto Tessarion's back, and flew back to Oldtown. Why am I doing this? Why do I even fight?
Daeron sighed at that memory, which took place only a few weeks ago. And now, he was a hero for the greens and having responsible for what many saw as the future king of the Seven Kingdoms, his nephew. Please protect my nephew, as he's the only one worth fighting for now, he prayed.
But Ryam, the Seneschal of the Citadel and the Hightower, the commander of the Oldtown City Watch, recommended that highest-ranking maester at the moment with Archmaester Orwyle in custody, and Ser Myles Maelor be shown to the rest of the city in order to reassure the population that the war was not lost, that there was hope that they would triumph against the usurpers. However, Daeron was against it, since he was just informed of the riots of King's Landing, which Ryam described as a "minor disturbance that nonetheless showed the cracks forming in Rhaenyra's ranks." He was not about to accept Ryam's reassurances, as the rumors of the threat from the city's underbelly had persisted and he needed to keep his nephew safe from any potential threat.
"If we don't show our future Prince of Dragonstone and King as healthy and alive, there'll be panic in our streets. We must have order in the midst of this terrible war, the war that your sister had started by not seeing that a woman could never rule these Seven Kingdoms," Ser Myles stated.
Daeron cleared his throat. "Don't forget to mention that my father made her the heir, but my brother was pushed into assuming the throne. I only went along because that's what a younger brother should do. Do be careful to state the correct facts."
Ser Myles paused. "Sorry, Your Grace. But continuing on, we have to ensure stability and having Prince Maelor tour the city will accomplish that."
"What about the threat you warned me about? The one about the man urging harm onto myself and the dragons for being abominations against the gods?" Daeron remembered.
"We've got it taken care of," Ser Myles replied.
"Are you sure about that? Because you sounded awfully concerned the last time you spoke to me about it," Daeron showed his uncertainty.
"Yes, we have men who have contained the threat," Ser Myles said.
Daeron could sense a falsity, but at the same time, he couldn't prove it. "And may I have evidence that you have this threat, this man, contained?"
"It will come in due time, Your Grace. But what's more important is to ensure that our cause remains strong and the best way to do that is to show Prince Maelor to the masses," Ryam joined back in.
Prince Daeron realized that they would continue to talk about this without end. "All right. Where do you suggest we go?"
Daeron didn't like the route they recommended, which went through some of the most densely parts of the city, as they moved from the safety of the Hightower itself and started moving along the banks of the Honeywine. The Thieves Market was too exposed despite the heavy guard Maelor had, which was why Daeron insisted on riding with his nephew once he realized the danger. Ser Myles protested, but oddly enough, Ryam agreed that uncle and nephew should remain together. What in the Seven Hells is going through his mind?
What made him more unnerved was how the smallfolk of the market were silent and looked at Maelor with indifference, which defeated the whole purpose of the tour. It was as if they didn't care that their potential future king was out to see them and as if his existence was unknown to them until now. There was just too much tension in the air, which might have been blamed on the situation of the war, but it was just too risky for Daeron to remain there with his nephew.
Finally, Daeron moved to the carriage where Maelor was and spoke to Ser Rickard Thorne. "Ser Rickard, I think it's best we cut this tour short."
"You sense it too, Your Grace?" Ser Rickard already knew what was on his mind.
"Something's not right here. If they really wanted to see him like Ser Myles and Seneschal Ryam explained, there would have been more cheering. Now, that's not an indication that there is danger afoot, but there is certainly risk here."
"Agreed," Ser Rickard nodded. "We should take him back to the Hightower posthaste."
"I'll get Tessarion to land and I'll cover you. Until then, can you protect him?"
"I'll do my best, Your Grace. But… can't you just take him on Tessarion then? He'll be at a risk if he remains here on the ground," Ser Rickard pointed out.
Daeron thought it through, before nodding. "Maelor, come on. We're going for a ride," he grabbed his nephew by his arms.
"Where we going, Uncle?" Maelor asked him curiously.
"We're going to ride my dragon. Would you like that?" Daeron pinched his nephew's cheek. Maelor shot him a toothless grin.
But as Daeron was about to call Tessarion to land near them, someone shouted, "The dragons caused the war! Get them!"
Suddenly, a mob comprised of the marketplace formed and surged onto the party of armed men escorting Maelor. The men of the Oldtown City Watch drew their swords and fought to stem the tide, but it was too much for them, as they were quickly overwhelmed.
As for Daeron and Ser Rickard, they both held onto Maelor as the mob was about to swarm the carriage.
"Where's Ser Myles?" Ser Rickard asked desperately, knowing that they were outnumbered.
"I don't know, and I don't know if we can hold this," Daeron was just as afraid as he was.
"Uncle, what is happening?" Maelor was confused as to what was going on.
"Nothing," Daeron rubbed his nephew's head. "It's just some men being stupid."
"Will we get hurt?" Maelor looked at him with those wide amethyst orbs.
"No, no, I promise we won't get hurt," he told him before turning to Ser Rickard as the carriage was being violent shaken. "May the Seven forgive me, but I have to save my nephew," he silently prayed before reaching out to Tessarion. Girl, they're about to kill us! Rain fire!
Get your heads down, he heard Tessarion say before a dragon roar echoed through the air.
"Ser Rickard, duck your head!" Daeron warned as they both crouched down, shielding Maelor with their bodies, as Tessarion dived.
"Dracarys," Daeron whispered before the Blue Queen unleashed her flames on the Thieves Market, incinerating many of the mob and even a few of the City Watch before ascending back into the air. This was the first time in a while that he was close to the flames, and he couldn't imagine what Maelor was feeling.
"Your Grace, come on," Ser Rickard urged as he checked that the coast was clear. But they had to step over various burnt corpses and avoid being crushed burning structures as they made their way through the now abandoned alleyways. "That's strange. Where did all of the people go?"
"I don't know. What's going on here?" Daeron asked himself before making sure that Maelor was close. "Just hold tightly and we'll get you back to the tower, okay?"
"Okay," Maelor circled his small arms around his uncle's neck.
They traversed more empty alleys and surprisingly deserted bridges, with no City Watch coming to them. What is Ser Myles doing? Does he even know that we're under attack?
Daeron and Ser Rickard saw the Hightower in the distance, mapping their way to there on foot, but as they entered another market, yet another swarm of people charged them. But this time, there were no City Watch to assist them. Running to a bridge built over the Honeywine, Ser Rickard and Daeron were back to back.
"Prince Daeron, I think you better set Prince Maelor down and draw your sword," Seri Rickard readied his blade.
"No! Maelor won't be safe!" Daeron cried out.
"If you don't right with all of your faculties, then we all die," Ser Rickard told him. "Just keep him close."
Daeron exhaled in frustration, but he saw the reason in Ser Rickard's words and set Maelor down from his arms. "I need you to do something. Please, close your eyes and stay behind us. Can you do that?" Maelor nodded. "You're a good boy. We'll get through this and we'll see mama again, okay?" His nephew smiled before sitting down against the side of the bridge and shut his eyes while pulling his legs towards him. "Now, whatever happens, do not open your eyes until I say so. It'll be over soon." He drew his sword, hands tightening on the hilt. "Good luck, Ser Rickard."
"You too, Prince Daeron," Ser Rickard managed as the first of the mob reached the two.
Daeron sliced one man across the torso before parrying another's attempted strike with a club. Still holding on, he cut across his and another man's bellies. He then got yet another by striking his forehead with his sword's pommel before decapitating him. He punched one hard on the cheek before running him through and was able to catch another by kicking him hard on the chest, causing him to fall off of the bridge and splash into the river below.
Daeron glanced back at Ser Rickard, who was faring similarly as he was. A Kingsguard and a prince of House Targaryen trained by some of the best knights in the realm were more than a match for men who didn't spend a single day in combat. And given that they were on a bridge, they could control how many could come at them from either side.
But as the bodies piled up and the river below them was slowly getting filled with fallen corpses, both Daeron and Ser Rickard were being exhausted. Their training might have saved them, but there was just too many to count. And they didn't know how long they could last.
Suddenly, the mob attacking grew wilder as Daeron could spot torches running through the throngs, causing them to go into a frenzy. Deciding to disregard the threat that came from both Daeron's and Ser Rickard's better handling with the sword, the crowd rushed them, and many had grabbed onto Daeron's own blade. He felt at least five hands latch onto it and he knew that without it, he would be at their mercy. Must… save… Maelor.
Sensing her rider's danger, Tessarion revealed herself again and bathed the crowd in fire, buying Daeron and Ser Rickard time to regain their footing and strike back.
But out of all the things that the mob had, a man struck Ser Rickard in the head with a rock once he got close enough, throwing it so hard that blood came out of his wound. Seeing the kingsguard stunned, the mob rushed and shoved him down on the ground, grabbing his sword while beating him to death.
Alarmed, Daeron swung wildly at the crowd, using every bit of energy he had to protect his nephew. He lost count on how many were felled, but they soon grabbed his arms and were pulling him away from Maelor.
Tessarion, burn everything!
What about you? Tessarion was worried.
Just do it! Dracarys!
The last thing Daeron remembered was fire flowing on the bridge and burning more of the mob. Too much ash got into his eyes and he felt his arms being released before the bridge finally collapsed from the weight of so many people and he felt the waters surround him.
Opening his eyes, he looked through the water and found Maelor being pulled to the bottom of the Honeywine. He quickly swam to his nephew, pulling him up to the surface and to the bank of the river. Remembering what he learned from Orwyle, he tried to resuscitate him.
"Come on!" Daeron cried out, but Maelor didn't respond as his eyes remained closed. Every other plea and attempt to wake him up was met with silence, causing Daeron to grow desperate. Helaena's son remained pale and he wouldn't open his amethyst orbs. "Come on!"
But after a few minutes of trying it and with tears forming in his eyes, Daeron then yelled, "Somebody help me!"
He repeated his plea for help, but no one came. Finally, he put his hands away from Maelor's torso, the realization of his nephew's death finally hitting him. He hugged his corpse, crying softly as the fires raged. There was no place for Tessarion to land, but she felt his rider's pain.
"I'm so sorry, Helaena. I'm so sorry," he kept saying as he bawled his eyes out. "I failed you."
But Daeron failed to notice that in the Citadel, Ryam and Ser Myles observed the carnage and the burning areas of the city. "The dragon caused more damage than we thought," the seneschal noted.
"Nothing we can't repair. At least it didn't get the Hightower, the Starry Sept, or this place," Ser Myles answered.
"The King's Landing plan was mostly successful, while this was only a partial one. Daeron is still alive," Ryam said.
"But since his dragon burned everything, no one here will support him. That's enough for me, since he tried to tell me what to do," Ser Myles expressed his satisfaction.
"Remember. Our goal is to weaken the dragons, however possible, and to show them what it's like to be powerless. We won't rest until the last of them die," Ryam reminded him.
"Of course. And about the coin in the Hightower's vaults…"
"It shall be put to good use in rebuilding a better and sinless city," Ryam answered.
Both continued to plan ahead while Daeron continued to mourn for his nephew, unaware of why it happened.
Helaena observed the smoke plumes that continue to rise above King's Landing, the fires that resulted from the riots of last week. She also looked upon the ruins of the Dragonpit, its dome collapsed and blackened from the fires that came from the dragons that tried to defend themselves from the mob.
Because she was in the safety of the Red Keep, she was unaware that the riots were even happening until Ser Lorent, groups of the goldcloaks, and the members of the northern guard scrambled about. Because she was treated more as a guest to Rhaenyra, she was able to ask Ser Torrhen on what was happening.
"Parts of the city have risen up in revolt against the queen," Ser Torrhen explained. "Thousands have taken up arms and are engaged in wanton burning of the city districts while many have converged on the Dragonpit."
"The Dragonpit?" Helaena became concerned, as at least some of the dragons were still there.
"Yes. I'm sorry, Your Grace, but I have to go," Ser Torrhen ran off to join the rest of the Manderly men who were joining the goldcloaks to contain the riots.
Helaena looked above and saw the shapes of Caraxes, Vermithor, and Silverwing fly towards the burning areas of the city. I hope that they are going to just scare them, not add more fire.
As for the smallfolk girl Nettles, she couldn't see her or her dragon called Sheepstealer because she was in the advanced stages of her pregnancy, the father being Jacaerys even though he was married to Sara Snow. Poor girl. Just like Lady Bracken.
Eventually, Rhaenyra ordered Lord Cregan and Ser Willem to bring in all available troops to restore order to the affected parts of King's Landing and to show no mercy. "Are we not to take prisoners?" Ser Willem asked in disbelief.
Rhaenyra threw down her wine goblet from the Iron Throne, smashing it into pieces. "Prisoners? Don't take any. The mob isn't taking any prisoners!" She stepped down from the Iron Throne while looking at the Royce knight and the Warden of the North in their eyes. "Put the mob down! Don't take a prisoner until you've put the mob down!"
Daemon and Baela moved to the doors of the throne room. "You heard her, my lords. No prisoners until order has been restored," Daemon said.
What followed was a bloodbath, as northmen and Valemen alike tore through the mobs and cut them down with ruthless efficiency. Against well-equipped and experienced fighters, it took less than a day for the mobs to disperse. However, upon seeing the ruins of the Dragonpit, the wounds on Syrax's skin, and the lifeless corpse of Joffrey, the last of her Velaryon brood, Rhaenyra fell into a rage and issued new orders.
"Hunt down every last one of these rats and kill them! I don't care how you do it, but you kill them!" Rhaenyra yelled.
Lord Bartimos and some of the lords at court were about to protest, but Daemon and Lord Corlys quietly shook their heads and dispelled all immediate opposition to her orders.
Helaena didn't actually witness what was going on, but she could hear the screams from the affected parts of the capital even from her room in Maegor's Holdfast. She had some idea about what happened during war, especially since men couldn't be trusted to maintain discipline during the chaos of battle. At the same time, she couldn't feel any pity for those that started the riots, since they did damage the home of the dragons in the capital.
Eventually, everything calmed down at the cost of hundreds of lives and dozens arrested after being judged as the most culpable for the riots. As retaliation for the riots, the northmen and Valemen set fire to parts of the city where the riots started and transferred many of their prisoners to the Black Cells to await judgment. More importantly, they were able to catch the one called the Shepherd and got the axe he used to kill Joffrey. But even she had to impressed with how Joffrey was able to fell many of the mob at such a young age, proving to her that the Velaryon was a dragon after all.
Among the dead besides all of the dragonkeepers and the dragons that were still chained in the Dragonpit was Ser Luthor Largent, the one who helped the Manderly men come so close to the Red Keep that they were able to take Aegon's men by surprise and the one allowed a relatively peaceful takeover with much of the defected goldcloaks. He died leading his men into combat, as he was pulled down from his armored warhorse, stabbed in the stomach, and bludgeoned to death. His corpse was so swollen and bloodied that only his size could be used to identify him. Had it not been for the northmen and Valemen flooding into the city, the goldcloaks would have been annihilated.
Once the riots had ended, Helaena called for a meeting of the small council and Lord Cregan was sent to bring her to the meeting. "Your Grace, if you will follow me, please. Your presence has been requested."
"Take me there, Lord Cregan," Helaena gestured to the Lord of Winterfell.
"How is Princess Jaehaera, Your Grace?"
"She's fine," Helaena was thankful he asked. "How is your son and daughters at Winterfell?"
"They miss their father," Cregan replied. "Once this war is done, I plan to spend many years with them."
So unlike Aegon, who didn't care. "I'm sure that they will want to be their father for a long time, Lord Cregan."
"My father died when I was young, and I didn't have much time with him. My children will spend more time with their father," Cregan promised more to himself, but Helaena smiled at how devoted he was to his children.
Over the course of the last few weeks, they had more conversations on topics such as the old gods and what they wanted from their respective families. She never talked about those things with anyone, even with Aegon since she only married her brother-husband out of duty and while she loved her children, she only fulfilled what was expected of her. But as they talked, Helaena could sense that Lord Cregan glanced at her more than she did and even when she was not looking. Even as he led to the small council chamber, she caught him glancing behind him.
She didn't have a good idea of what northmen were like beyond the books, especially when they acted around women. However, seeing Lord Cregan try to look at her was so… moving for Helaena. It was the first time a man showed her that much attention, but for a long time, she tried not to care ever since Aegon didn't consider her pretty compared to the maids and her ladies-in-waiting. But like any other women, deep down she was hurt when a man she grew up with viewed with such little regard and it really made her question on whether she could find someone who appreciated her.
With Lord Cregan, not only did he look at her so much, he approached her and made her feel safe. In addition, he didn't say many jests verbally, but she saw his actions as quite… amusing. For example, he helped a maid clean the floor when a wineglass was spilled, and the maid blushed when she saw a man even try to help her. And he said, "How boring life must be here, when the men don't help in the simplest of tasks."
Unlike most of the lords and especially Aegon, Cregan was humble and he was more action-oriented than talkative. And him not saying anything while trying to steal looks at her was so… touching to her. It made her believe that she had worth after all and that she just needed to find someone who saw it. I might have to catch him in the act, so our eyes can meet and he can't deny it, she thought happily.
One of Rhaenyra's first acts at the small council chamber was to appoint Ser Balon Byrch as the new Lord Commander of the City Watch, but owing to the diminished strength of the goldcloaks, some of the northmen and Valemen were posted to King's Landing and charged with maintaining the peace. Since the Valemen and northmen wouldn't answer to Ser Balon, Rhaenyra formed the Guardian Council to help ensure that the city and the crownlands as a whole would remain peaceful and secure. In this capacity, she had one of the Corbray brothers, both of the Manderly brothers, and Lord Belthasar Bolton appointed as guardians alongside Ser Balon.
But Lord Cregan questioned the inclusion of Lord Belthasar as a guardian. "Your Grace, the Bolton men need their lord in the field, and they comprise a large portion of the troops I've brought from the north."
"I'm sure that whatever gaps left behind from the absence of the Bolton men can easily be made up with the Valemen and the Reach houses that will join us," Rhaenyra told him.
"May I ask why you want Lord Bolton as a guardian?" Cregan inquired.
"Aren't his house's words 'Our Knives are Sharp?'"
"Yes, Your Grace. But those words came from a more barbarous time and when the north didn't enjoy the unity that it was able to enjoy to this day," Cregan answered.
"I have need of the methods his house is known for," Rhaenyra continued.
Cregan's eyes widened. "Your Grace, you don't mean to say—"
"Yes, Lord Stark. I will grant Lord Belthasar special authority in prosecuting the man called the Shepherd and all of his ilk, starting with the prisoners that were in the Black Cells before this started," Rhaenyra finished for him.
"Your Grace, I must protest this. Flaying has been outlawed in the north for two thousand years and—"
"But we're not in the North, are we, Lord Stark? As Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, I am temporarily reinstituting flaying as a legitimate method for examination and execution. Given his house's history with the practice, Lord Belthasar will oversee all examinations and be appointed as my Queen's Justice until this war has been concluded," she stated.
"Your Grace, I must agree with Lord Stark on this," Lord Bartimos joined in. "The houses fighting for us will not look upon this practice favorably, given how flaying is looked upon throughout Westeros. Furthermore—"
Rhaenyra slammed her hand on the table. "These bastards killed my son, my son!" The small council was stunned into silence at her outburst. "I've lost too much already because my own family turned on me, and you're telling me to be lenient on those that conducted rebellion against me, despite me trying to bring back normality to them?"
"Your Grace, we didn't imply—"
"Quiet!" Rhaenyra was not in the mood to listen to anymore. "I remind you all that we are living in difficult times, and as such, these times call for measures that must be taken to ensure that we win. If we don't, all of our sacrifices will mean nothing. But if you're still unsure of my decisions, I ask you all to walk to the parts of the city that have been put on fire and smell the scent of burnt flesh. That is what awaits us all if we fail."
The small council remained hushed, with Helaena startled at how much fury her half-sister displayed at that moment.
"We currently have ninety-nine men in the Black Cells at the moment, all of whom deemed to have varying degrees of culpability in inciting the riots," Daemon spoke up. "Her Grace and Lord Hand Corlys will oversee all of the trials, with the Guardian Council taking their place should either one be unable to." No one protested. "Lord Cregan and Lord Bartimos, please remain. The rest are dismissed." Helaena was about leave with the rest of the small council members before he stopped her. "Helaena, please stay. I think it's time you hear what will happen."
Surprised, she sat down, with Cregan and Bartimos Celtigar looking at Rhaenyra and Daemon.
"First of all, Lord Cregan, you have done us all a good service and your troops have helped in restoring order to the city, but don't ever disagree with us in public again," Daemon started.
"Prince Daemon, giving Lord Belthasar and the rest of the Bolton brood a taste of what they were forbidden to partake is a bad idea. If you allow this, who knows what they might pursue next?"
"You mean how they might against you?" Rhaenyra narrowed her eyes at Cregan. "From what I understand, the Boltons are a northern house and therefore, how you control them is your problem, not mine. But as I said before, I have need of the Bolton practices."
"Your Grace, I ask you to not do this. If you unleash the Boltons on the guilty and the rest of the population, you won't be able to control their bloodlust. There is a reason why the Red Kings were so hard to subjugate thousands of years ago," Cregan beseeched.
"And I'm sure that given your abilities, they will remain in control. And before you say anymore," Rhaenyra stopped him just as he opened his mouth. "Let me remind you that I am perfectly willing to have the betrothal between my son Viserys and your daughter Sarra go towards its natural conclusion, as one of many rewards that will come your way once this war is over. But considering that this wasn't announced to the realm yet, it can be rescinded should you try my patience any further. Do we understand each other?"
Cregan gulped before nodding. As for Lord Bartimos and Helaena, they were simply confused as to what was just discussed. "May I ask on what you are referring to, Your Grace?" the Lord of Claw Isle inquired.
"Once Viserys has been recovered safely, I will announce the betrothal between him and Sarra Stark in order to bind our houses together and to reward the Warden of the North. It's been too long since the North was involved in the affairs of the south and this betrothal will ensure their continued participation," Rhaenyra answered him. "Which brings me to you, Lord Bartimos. You've served me well and there might be a great reward coming your way, but question me in public again, I might change my mind. Understand?"
Bartimos Celtigar bobbed his head slowly, not wanting to risk his queen's offer on repaying him for his loyalty even though he didn't know what awaited him.
"As we're on the topic of Viserys, how far are we on rescuing him?" Daemon asked Cregan.
"We have selected a few men from White Harbour who are capable of carrying out the mission, with their qualifications including significant time spent in the Free Cities and being able to blend in crowds," Cregan answered. "Once Lady Mysaria's little birds confirm Viserys' location, we'll send the men in and begin the rescue."
"Good. The sooner he comes back, the better," Daemon nodded.
"Wait. You're going to rescue Prince Viserys, from the Triarchy?" Helaena asked.
"The longer he remains a captive, the more likely that the enemy will use him as a bargaining chip against us. That's something we cannot allow to happen," the Warden of the North answered.
"And without him, you cannot have the betrothal," Helaena added.
"Yes," Cregan admitted. "Selfish as that might sound, we need as many heirs in House Targaryen as we can obtain, as they will be important in restoring stability to the realm once this war is done. Without an abundance of heirs, the Seven Kingdoms as we know it will be dangerously vulnerable. We have the Princes Aegon and Viserys, and the Princesses Jaehaera, Baela, Rhaena, and Visenya alive. With the death of the Velaryon sons born of Queen Rhaenyra's womb, we must ensure that our position is secure."
"Our position?" Helaena raised an eyebrow to Cregan.
"I am not privy as to what problems you have with Her Grace and Prince Daemon, but all of you come from Aegon the Conqueror. Whatever way this war ends, there must be a united House Targaryen because your ancestor made the choice to make Westeros into one land. Without the dragons working together, the violence shall never cease, and we risk going back to the evil days prior to the Conquest," Cregan explained.
Helaena was struck by right Cregan sounded. What was more, there was no malice spoken her way, which was unexpected of the young man who was the head of House Stark. He had every reason to treat her badly, but instead, he was more decent to her than Aegon ever was. And his words spoken just now brought her back to when Cregan talked about family. Family is really that important to him, Helaena thought with admiration.
"Lord Cregan speaks true," Daemon added. "And so, our first goal after the war is done is to repair the damage our family has suffered."
Helaena looked at each person in the chamber, sighing after thinking of how everyone there had fought against her but were more than willing to include her. "Okay," she nodded her agreement.
"Lord Bartimos, you're excused. And so are you, Lord Stark. I must attend to my dragon," Rhaenyra stood up before looking at Helaena once more. "I would like your presence, Helaena, if you are able to."
Helaena was more surprised that she would ask such a thing, but given her more than deserved treatment to her, she obliged, but she glanced at Lord Cregan. "Can Lord Stark accompany me?" she suddenly asked.
Rhaenyra and Daemon were astonished at her request, but she nodded her consent and thus, Helaena followed the pair outside as they walked to the godswood, with Cregan at her side.
"I must say that unlike most of the lords I've met, you stay true to your words," Helaena noted to the Warden of the North. "That's amazing, considering that hypocrisy and the ability to survive in court go together."
"You've not been in the north then, Your Grace," Cregan replied. "Anyone who lies constantly will not be accepted among the northern houses, and constant bickering is looked down upon because we do not have the luxury to argue in the cold."
"That sounds… refreshing," Helaena admitted. "I've been around too many liars and I long for a time where I can be honest to myself and not suffer the consequences."
"I am pretty sure that time will come, Your Grace. After all, the bad things in our lives will not last forever," Cregan said empathetically.
Helaena glanced at Lord Stark once more, moved by his words. "Lord Stark, may I call you Cregan?"
"You can," Cregan nodded.
"Well, Cregan, I think it's only proper that you call me Helaena. After all, it wouldn't be right if only one of us used our first names," she shrugged.
Cregan thought this through, wary of Rhaenyra and Daemon listening. "Very well… Helaena."
She smiled before seeing that the godswood was guarded heavily by sentries. Upon entering, she saw Syrax resting, with visible cuts on her skin and even some of scales missing from the impact of some stones as she flew through the opening of the Dragonpit's dome.
Rhaenyra walked up and rubbed the snout of her dragon, with Daemon close by. But the more she touched it, the more slumped she looked. Then, Helaena saw tears drop from her eyes, which increased with each passing moment. Daemon moved to hold her, but she collapsed to the ground, unable to hold back the bawling that was contained until that point.
Helaena knew what those tears, as those were the tears she shed when she saw Jaehaerys die. While before she wished the same to happen to Rhaenyra and imagined how satisfied she would be when she understood her pain, all she felt at that moment was compassion. With Daemon not lying to her about not ordering Jaehaerys' death, Rhaenyra treating her well, and Cregan making her feel assured, she couldn't find it in her heart to be pleased at what Rhaenyra was feeling. No matter who the father was, Joffrey's dragon side won out in the end and he died like one.
Without thinking, Helaena stepped to where Rhaenyra was, with Syrax weary of her. But sensing no ill-intention, she allowed Helaena to get close to Rhaenyra, where she got on her knees and slowly placed a hand on her shoulder.
"I know there's nothing I can't say for when a child dies before the mother, but… we're family and I am here," Helaena told her.
Rhaenyra quickly wrapped her arms around Helaena, continuing to cry as she moved from Daemon's to her own. Taking a moment to process her embrace, she returned it while patting her back softly and bringing her head closer against her neck. She shared a glance with Daemon, who showed his thankfulness through his sad smile, and then at Cregan, whose eyes softened but was unable to join in the embrace since he wasn't family. Soon he will be, if Viserys marries Sarra Stark.
As she comforted her older half-sister, she began to think of how Cregan could fit in their family. She wondered what would have happened if she had met the Lord of Winterfell sooner and if her life would've changed, only to brush aside those thoughts as she realized that everything happened for a reason. It was only under those circumstances that she met Lord Stark, and it was only after he survived his obstacles that he became the man that stood in front of her.
Grant me more time with Cregan. Please allow me some comfort and happiness, she prayed to the gods above, whoever they may be.
A/N: Man, did Daeron show how much of a dragon he was when trying to save Maelor, although it was sadly in vain. And the manner of Maelor's death strongly points to sabotage, for how else does one explain only one Kingsguard protecting a Targaryen prince? And the conspiracy is coming to light.
And Helaena is starting to see Rhaenyra was just as broken as her, leading to them becoming sisters again. Cregan better watch his words, or he'll lose the betrothal, and who knows what kind of things Lord Belthasar has in mind?
Till next time.