112 AC - Six Months Later
The shrieks and roars of dragons filled the air surrounding Dragonstone. From her place within a small garden hidden within the keep's inner walls, Diana looked up and could only smile as she watched her two eldest children fly with their father.
Diana had been right when she'd assumed Daemon would take Alycia to claim a dragon once their business in King's Landing was over, but she could never have predicted the dark days leading up to their departure. Aemma's death and Rhaenyra's absence in their lives was a dagger in her heart every day, even with the boons her family received with Alycia's claiming of all dragons, the dreaded Cannibal.
Black as night, with piercing green eyes, the Cannibal was so named for his terrifying habit of eating smaller dragons and hatchlings. He was an utterly wild, massive, and temperamental dragon before her daughter found the courage to approach him. He was liable to kill anyone other than Alycia who approached. Because of this, he remained unsaddled and free from chains. Vermithor, Caraxes, and Quickfang were eager to follow his example and flew around Dragonstone and Dragonmont until called upon.
With their newfound freedom, Quickfang's growth progression had skyrocketed compared to his time living in chains in the Dragon Pit. The young dragon had already reached the size of a small pony, almost ready to be saddled and ridden, according to Daemon, who took his children riding and exploring the surrounding Volcanos daily, telling them tales in High Valyrian and speaking of dragon-taming and care.
"I wish I could go," Daemion muttered from his place by her side, his brown fringe covering his eyes partially as he stared down at an old Valyrian text his father had gifted him for his birthday.
"You know your father would take you for a ride on Caraxes. Why not ask?" Diana said, smiling softly and running her fingers through his dark locks, so similar to hers. Of their three children, Daemion had been the only one to inherit her colouring, his bone structure and deep purple eyes the only connection between him and his father, that and the green egg hatched in his cradle.
"It's not the same," Daemion muttered, pulling away from her ministrations with false independence. He got that from his to-a-fault independent older brother. Daemion idolized his older brother, despite their differences in interests, Aelyx with his sword and Daemion with his love of books and history.
Rolling her eyes at her boy's stubbornness, Diana smiled as Yelena came into the garden, a familiar piece of paper in her hands. Taking the message with a soft thank you, she unrolled it and looked at its contents, her smile slowly fading at what she found.
Dearest Aunt,
I write to you to bring word of my father's possible new betrothal to Laena Valaryon. Unfortunately, the council is pushing him to remarry. Lord Corlys also speaks of the conflict at the Step Stones, but my father refuses to act. I have missed you and my cousins these long months, when are you coming back? I need you, Aunt. Marya helps, but I can't do this alone.
Your loving niece,
Rhaenyra
Sighing, Diana nodded once to Yelena in dismissal and stood. When she began walking out of the garden, Daemion looked up and called, "Mother? What is it?"
"Nothing, sweetling. I need to discuss something with your father."
She ordered the guards to light the flame in one of the watchtowers; she and Daemion had decided early on in their residence that they would use those flames as signals to the often-flying Daemon and their children to call them home.
Marching out on the terrace, Diana headed towards the dragon's field, a vast open space full of lush green grass where the dragons could frolic, unencumbered by the nearby mountains. It wasn't long before the sound of massive wing flapping filled her ears, and Caraxes' massive, long frame flew overhead, landing with a thud a few hundred feet away.
Her two children remained airborne, no doubt at Daemon's insistence.
As Daemon climbed off Caraxes' back, his eyes narrowed in question, silver hair windswept and barely held together by a leather tie, he looked to his wife for answers. Once he had both feet on the ground, he stood tall, waiting as, with practiced movements, Diana stopped briefly to pat Caraxes head, smiling softly as the dragon purred its contentment, his approval of his rider's lady wife apparent.
Once his wife had her fill of dragon cuddles, she turned to her husband, her mouth set in a thin line. "There has been word from King's Landing, Dae."
"Has my brother finally come begging for forgiveness?" Daemon spat, rolling his eyes and avoiding eye contact as he fiddled with the straps on Caraxes saddle.
"No," Diana said, crossing her arms, used to her husband's antics, "but you already knew that. Rhaenyra sends word that your brother is looking for a new wife to saddle with his heirs."
That got Daemon's attention; stepping away from the saddle, he looked at Diana with furrowed brows, "Who?"
"Laena Varlayon, by Rhaenyra's estimation. A child the same age as Alycia." Diana's lip curled at the idea of Viserys rutting into the beautiful little girl she'd last seen the day before the tourney.
Rhaenys and Diana had never been particularly close, no doubt because of 'The Queen Who Never Was's' history with Daemon, but their children had played together when The Valaryons were in court. Rhaenys coming to visit her husband Corlys, who sat on Viserys' council as Master of Ships.
When Daemon and Viserys' mother, Alyssa Targaryen, died in 84 AC after struggling to give birth to their youngest brother Aegon weakened her considerably. Unfortunately, she died later that year. The babe died as well a couple of months later. The Targaryen princess' death left her husband Baelon bereft and her dragon Meleys, The Red Queen, riderless.
In 87 AC, the dragoness was claimed by the then 13-year-old, Rhaenys Targaryen, to Daemon's distress and rage. In his mind, he'd had a claim to his mother's dragon and had never forgiven his cousin for claiming her first. So the then six-year-old princeling was said to rage and scream when news reached him of his mother's dragon being claimed. Some even claimed the prince had tried to stab Rhaenys with his fork that night at dinner in retaliation.
Then later, in 92 AC, once Aemon Targaryen, Rhaenys' father, died, Daemon claimed Caraxes, who was left riderless. No doubt as some sort of petty revenge against the grieving Rhaenys.
"Marrying a Valaryon could go a long way at mending the gap between our two houses," Daemon replied, stepping towards his wife, clucking her on the chin in a comforting gesture, "But, I do not see Viserys having the stomach to marry a girl younger than his own daughter."
"Do not underestimate his obsession with having his trueborn son," Diana snapped, her temper flaring, "He's already killed one woman in his pursuit. So what's to stop him from taking another?"
Eyes narrow, Daemon tightened his hold on how wife's chin, forcing her to maintain eye contact as he growled, "I let you have a lot of liberties as my wife, Diana. Do not push my patience. Rhaenyra is heir now."
Diana yanked her head out of his hold, snorting derisively, muttering, "Even now, you are still his loyal lapdog. He might have named Rhaenyra his heir, but that won't stop the lords from rebelling when he dies. They will push him to remarry and produce a son."
Turning on her heel, she ignored Daemon's snarls and protests. She knew Daemon's loyalty towards 'the blood of the dragon' ran deep, she loved him for it, but sometimes, it made her want to scream. If Viserys remarried, it would jeopardize Rhaenyra's position, maybe even her very life. Diana needed to come up with a plan.
**Line Break**
The winds were kind to Rhaenrya and a tiring Syrax, offering them a reprieve as they neared Dragonstone. It had taken them just over five hours to see the peak of Dragon Mont in the distance. As they began their descent, Rhaenyra couldn't help but smile as she heard the distant cries of her family's dragons, welcoming Syrax into their territory.
She could have sworn she even saw a glimpse of Grey Ghost and Sheepsteeler hiding near their nest on Dragonmont, but she couldn't be sure, as the two wild dragons were notoriously shy and unwelcoming to any potential riders, possibly due to their young age and smaller size. At least compared to the likes of Vermithor, the Cannibal and Caraxes.
Syrax landed less than gracefully on the western beach, her wings tired from carrying Rhaenyra for such a long distance so quickly. Rhaenyra had always spoiled her dragon; perhaps, that needed to change if a simple ride to Dragonstone wore her out this much.
As she slid off Syrax's golden back, she patted the tired dragoness' head, murmuring comfort in High Valyrian, then she turned to see a group of City Watchmen, their gold cloaks gleaming in the late afternoon sun. Daemon had amassed an army loyal only to him during his time as Lord Commander. Even from her place down on the beach, she could see gold cloaks everywhere on the castle battlements, standing guard for her uncle and his family.
"Princess Rhaenyra," the captain called, looking confused, "His Highness Prince Daemon and his lady wife Princess Diana welcome you to Dragonstone."
Rhaenyra didn't bother with pleasantries. Instead, walking right past them, taking off her gloves with her teeth, she demanded, "Where is my family?"
"In Aegon's Garden, Princess."
"Good; you may return to your duties. I know the way."
The walk to the garden took a while, cooling Rhaenyra's temper only slightly as she breathed in the stink of sulphur and seawater along the way. By the time she'd walked under the Dragon's Tail and into the entrance, she could hear the happy shrieks of children and the sound of voices intermingling.
Joy, that was the word. She heard joy.
The idea had tears resurfacing in her eyes, and by the time the crier announced her presence, stopping her cousins mid-game of cats and rats and her Aunt and Uncle mid-conversation, their heads lowered together so they may whisper sweet nothings among themselves, even surrounded by their many children.
"Rhaenyra!"
"Cousin!"
"Nyra!"
Despite her cousins' apparent joy at her arrival, Rhaenyra could not stop the tidal wave of anger and heartache from taking her. Losing the battle with her emotions, she began to sob in earnest. So lost in grief, she jumped when a pair of strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her into a familiar hard chest while feminine hands patted her head, combing her wind tangles away from her tear-stricken face.
"My love?'
"Niece, what has happened? Has someone harmed you?"
Despite her aunt's soft-spoken words, it was her uncle's harsh demand in High Valyrian that had Rhaenyra looking up into his scowling face, seeking comfort.
"He chose her, Uncle!" Her voice was a plaintiff whine as she reburied her face into his warm, solid chest.
"Who, my sweet?" Aunt Diana asked, her hands still stroking Rhaenyra's hair softly. Then, calling over her shoulder, Aunt Diana commanded, "To your rooms, all of you. Begone."
Her face must have been as severe as her tone because Rhaenyra didn't hear a single complaint as her cousins silently filed out, their footfalls the only hint of their departure. She didn't bother to look, too busy nuzzling into Daemon's chest and basking in Diana's caresses.
"Allicent!" The name was more of a keen than an answer, with how clogged Rhaenyra's throat felt.
At her answer, she felt Daemon's body tense and Diana's fingers freeze, stuttering for a second before they continued their slower and more thoughtful strokes.
"Viserys chose Allicent Hightower as his bride?" Daemon murmured, his cheek pressed against the top of her head, bemused face turned towards his pale wife. Her doe eyes wide, darting around, mind racing towards the potential consequences of this development.
Forcing herself to stand firm, Rhaenrya took a hesitant step back, straightening her spine and making eye contact with her uncle, and muttered, "Yes. He told me he needed to marry again, and I agreed because I thought it would be to Laena Valaryon! He would have had to wait two years at least for her to flower; we would have had time to get used to the idea. But no, he chose Allicent."
"Rhaenyra," Aunt Diana murmured, "listen to me. Did you tell anyone where you were going?"
"No," Rhaenyra muttered, looking down at her feet, scuffing the cobblestone with her sand-covered boots, "I told Ser Criston I was going for a ride. And then… I didn't come back."
"Fuck," The curse was spat out softly, almost too low for Rhaenyra to hear.
Looking up, she saw Daemon staring into the sky, looking deep in thought. Diana stepped away, turning to pace slowly back and forth, her head down, deep in reflection.
"What is it?"
"The Crown Princess just ran away, Rhaenyra. There will be consequences." Diana said, her eyes soft but her face hard, mind racing with moves and counter moves for whatever Rhaenyra's father and his snake of a Hand had planned.
Daemon continued speaking, so in sync with his wife that he could finish her thought process, "I'll bet they are already assembling a company of men to send searching for you already. It won't take long for them to figure out where you went."
Art his words, Rhaenyra's breath quickened in panic. What had she done? Was she truly so selfish -?
She was broken from her mental ramblings as he aunt stepped closer, eyes warm as she said, "Hush, Darling. There is no use ruminating on what has already happened. Come, I'll order you a bath and a warm meal. Then I'll send word to your father."
Even with everything that had happened so quickly, Rhaenyra couldn't help but curl her lip at the idea of her father knowing anything about her or her whereabouts.
Chuckling, Uncle Daemon ruffled her hair and murmured, "I understand your anger, Dear Niece. But, if we want to avoid a war, we must treat with my fool of a brother."
Nodding solemnly, Rhaenyra followed her uncle's advice, giggling slightly when he playfully tried to trip her, then caught her midfall, throwing her over his shoulder like she was five years old again and not nearly a woman grown.
**Line Break**
Not even three days later, after Diana sent her raven and ensured Rhaenyra was given the very best they'd had to offer her in terms of comforts, Daemon found himself laying in wait as Otto Hightower of all people and his motley crew of ass-kissers skulked their way up the massive staircase leading from the gates, to the keep itself.
Daemon couldn't help but smirk as he saw the disgruntled look on Hightower's cunt face as he took in Dragonstone in all its glory. No doubt he wished his future grandchild would hold it as Prince of Dragonstone and heir to the throne one day.
Over Daemon's dead body, would that happen. Either Rhaenyra sat the Iron Throne, or he would burn King's landing to the ground, fuck the Seven Kingdoms. Beside him, Aelyx shuffled, his inexperience showing how bothered he was by the tension.
"Hush, son, it will be over soon. Do not lose your nerve," he murmured under his breath, causing Aelyx to stiffen back up and nod sharply.
After a long, drawn-out moment of silence, while Daemon watched the visitors shuffle into positions and watch him and his company of Goldcloaks, Daemon finally spoke, "Welcome to Dragonstone, Otto."
The worm sneered in response to Daemon's blatant disrespect of not even adding the title of 'Ser' to his name. But he composed himself quickly and, in his condescending voice, drawled, "Prince Daemon, His Grace Viserys of House Targaryen, First of His Name, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, demands you return his daughter to him."
"Return? That implies I took something. I didn't. The Princess came to my family and me during these dark and troubling times."
He saw Otto grinding his teeth as he replied, "Nevertheless, the King demands his Heir comes home. Immediately."
"Or what?" Daemon asked, smirking when the two King's Guards Otto took with him tightened their hold on their swords. His own company did the same, ratcheting up the tension even more.
Otto didn't bother to respond to Daemon's question. Instead, he smirked and said, "Your occupation of this island is at an end. You are ordered to disband your army, collect your family and leave. Where the King does not care."
Now it was Daemon's turn to snarl. Who was this simpering worm of a second son to command him, Blood of the Dragon?
Cutting Otto's rant off, he spat, "Where is the King? I do not see him."
Smirking darkly, Otto replied, "He had more pressing matter than this mummer's farce to attend to."
"Oh," Daemon's voice was deceptively light, "Now seeing to his daughter's wellbeing is a farce?"
"Do not twist my words you -!"
Otto was once again cut off by the sound of dragon wings flapping and roaring from behind Daemon. Daemon didn't bother to look as Caraxes came climbing out of his cave, no doubt followed by Vermither, Cannibal and maybe even little Quickfang.
He could see his son's smug smile at the shaking Hand and his hounds, proud of his family's power. Who could stand against them?
Then from under the fog rose up a golden dragon, small for its age but fast and agile as it circled the opposing sides. On its back sat a familiar figure, Princess Rhaenyra. As she circled the group twice, making sure to gain everyones' full attention with her spectacle, she watched them all with narrowed eyes.
Then, she descended, coming to land behind Otto and his company, either blocking them in or strengthening their position, depending on her mood. Climbing off, she didn't even bother to look at her father's Hand as she passed through the group, the soldiers parting around her as if her flesh itself was fire and would burn them.
"Princess," Otto murmured, stepping into her path, eyes soft in mock sympathy. "Your Father wor -"
"Be careful, my Lords. Syrax is quite protective of me," once she had taken her place at Daemon's side, she continued, " You came here for me, I presume?"
"Yes, Princess, I -"
"Then we better get going," Rhaenyra snapped, cutting him off again. Then, turning to Daemon and Aleyx, she proclaimed, "I thank you for this lovely visit, Uncle, Cousin. I trust you will keep Dragonstone safe in my absence as Princess as Dragonstone?"
Smirking, Daemon nodded in deference to his niece, saying, "Of course, whatever the Heir to the Iron Throne requires."
"Princess…"
"We'd better be off, Ser Otto. I wish to be home by dinner."
And with that, Rhaenyra was off, ignoring the Hand's rambles about propriety and decency. Leaving Daemon to chuckle at the disgruntled look on Otto Hightower's face as he was forced to call his forces to retreat, a snarl on his face the entire time.
As Otto and his forces began their descent back down the steps, Daemon couldn't help but call out, "Please make sure to send my brother my regards. His niece and nephews miss him."