AN: Alright! New month, new wave of posts. And of course, we're starting it off with the commissions for our faithful subscribers. First comes everyone's favorite red-armored tyrant girl, Edelgard!
AtW: Big thanks to Exiled Immortal as always and go check out his new story Butterfly Effect too. It's a HomestuckXWorm crossover, so go check it out if that's your scene!
CW: Now then, without further ado let's get into the reading!
Flame Emperor - Chapter 2
"Elric, are you ready?"
The smiling Northman bowed deeply at her words. Normally Edelgard would have been mildly amused by his… dramatic flair, but the simple fact was that this plan was going to be truly absurd. It was a bluff that only a woman who had once been infiltrated the very heart of her opposition could appreciate. Even if she still felt a flicker of nerves, it was also a good plan, one that sought refuge in audacity and striking rapidly.
"Of course princess. Our task is simple enough. Recover Ser Barristan, harass the rebels, and make contact with our allied captains." His men made noises of agreement. All were mounted on fast, swift horses that were long in the leg and had opted for chainmail and gambesons, instead of heavier, slower plate. "I promise you, we will not fail."
His words were heavy. Something deep in her gut told her she would lose Snow before he failed. And that scared her. But it was the duty of the commander to send her men to die.
"I have no doubt that you shall succeed. All I ask is that you do so without seducing half the serving maids in the Seven Kingdoms. Go. And don't come back unless you have Robert's head or Barristan whole and hale."
Raucous laughter followed after the last of her squads to depart.
The situation was dire, but not untenable.
As enemies within and without circled, Edelgard had seen fit to delegate tasks as best she could. Sending envoys to the remaining forces of the crown as well as reestablishing order inside King's Landing were two of the most vital objectives. The attempted sack had left a lot of damage on its wake - and not just limited to the slums she'd burned with magical flames.
Loyal soldiers lay dead or wounded, her subjects were terrified, and there remained rats scurrying amidst the rubble. Traitors she suspected had been planning to strike a decisive blow once the city was taken were even now sneaking about. Pycelle in particular had been the one to whisper in her father's ear and the rat had told them much. How they hoped to breach the castle, how they would murder Rhaegar's family, not that she had prevented that anyways, and how Tywin would gut the city.
But he hadn't acted alone, confessing, under only light torture, that he was merely doing what he could to be protected from the inevitable retaliation against the Mad King. And that he had been assisted by several other men. His compatriots, however, had escaped and she had yet to find them.
That was one of the things that kept her up at night.
Smoking out the rats, rebuilding defenses, and making contact with the loyalists outside. Time was running short, but she thrived on the battlefield in her previous life. And she would do the same in this one.
All she needed was to buy time.
Time to herd her subjects.
Time to organize and plan.
Time for the precious partner she'd hatched to come into the fullness of its being. Something she was told was yet years away, if she was so lucky to see it survive. What little dragon lore remained was… not hopeful about that. But such a thing was simply unacceptable, so she would not permit it. No matter the cost. The little life thrumming in her heart and her mind, at the moment napping next to the fire in the Tower of the Hand, would not be snuffed out.
"My lady, the captain of the Gold Cloaks has arrived."
Ser Dayne had quietly approached her from behind. The golden armor and white cloak now gone, replaced with a simple, unvarnished suit of grey plate and a black tabard.
'Another sacrifice for the good of the realm. Another honorable man shamed.'
His eyes held no hatred for her, even if she may have wished it so. But that still meant he was dependable, reliable, a pawn she could trade away for the victory of another empire. A victory that would avoid the horror and bloodshed of civil war.
Because she held no illusions about what a usurpation would bring. As terrible as her own family had a tendency to be, they were a constant. The underpinning of Westeros. Robert of House Baratheon though….
"And the reports Varys left for us?"
The Dornishman's eyes darkened as he spoke.
"They confirm your worst fears. Aside from his strength in battle, he is a drunkard and a whoremonger. There are rumors he already has multiple bastards."
Snorting, the warrior princess shook her head.
"Ten gold dragons says Varys knows their names, ages, mothers, locations, and favorite foods. And has a sympathetic ear nearby." Bitterness was heavy on her tongue. Maybe it was because the Red Keep still smelled like burnt meat. Maybe because the city smelled like that too. Either way, she stood there for a moment longer, letting her thoughts turn over.
Snow and his men would recover Barristan, though she worried he might attempt to assassinate Baratheon or at least a few of his officers. He was a skilled killer, though, and it would do her little to worry like a mother.
To that end, Vallois had actually ridden south. With a letter and a royal seal ordering the taking of Storm's End, the Tyrell army should be freed up. More than that, it would be a counter blow. A nice, big victory, 'honorably' won, to wave in the face of her enemies. Which, to be perfectly fair, would include the Dornish if they ever figured out what had actually happened to Elia.
Saltspear and his men would hopefully help her… minimize that. Already they were securing transport and handling certain issues she refused to permit to fester. Quite simply, Edelgard would be going south too, by boat, after she secured Dragonstone and moved the Royal Navy in to support the rallying loyalist forces. But her primary objective would be to reach the Tower of Joy, secure Lyanna Stark, and recover the remaining Kingsguard.
If she could keep Dorne at least neutral as they 'recovered their strength' she could win this war and then worry about placating them.
'Damn my brother for thinking with his cock. Damn him for not being able to wait just a few more months. If a Grand Council had been called, all the Lords Paramount gathered, none of this need have happened.'
Her gauntlet creaked. Arthur reached out and touched her shoulder.
Sighing, she focused on what was important.
Murdering her enemies.
"I hope Feather manages to track down Lord Lannister." She turned away from the balcony she stood on, her plate armor tinkling slightly as she loosened a few straps. "Removing the Westerlands from the war now would be most advantageous. But, even if Feather fails, we've still stripped Tywin's main body of men from him. Turning a few vassals against him might be all it takes."
Dayne chuckled.
"The fact you've given voice to such an idea tells me how improbable you consider it."
At this the princess could only sigh again. Because, here, in the Red Keep itself, she could not actually voice her real plans for fear of everyone in the city knowing them within the day. If she was lucky and there were other things to talk about.
"Let's go meet the good captain… and perhaps it is time for a reveal?" Arthur's eyes wavered for a moment, like there was something he wanted to say. Instead, he merely nodded.
"Your will be done, my princess."
As he walked away, she wondered if she should marry him. But matters of alliances would have to wait. And love? Love was a word she'd used for one person. And she'd never been able to quite get over that particular fact.
Strolling into the tower, where she'd chosen to keep her partner, the princess meandered over to the hearth and found her friend waiting for her.
"Hello Hresvelgr." The black and silver dragon trilled in response, climbing to its feet from where it had been curled up next to a blazing fire. Hopping, much like a cat, straight to her lap. "Easy boy, easy. There are snacks." His, though she had not had the creature sexed yet, claws scraped at her armor as she removed the top of a locked platter. "Bacon. Lots and lots of bacon. And beef tips too."
Tossing small pieces of fried, baked, broiled, steamed, shredded, mashed, diced, and sauteed meat to her little ally was a truly excellent way to spend the time. Aside from an impressive display of general gluttony, the tiny scaled creature had a few preferences she had picked up on.
He liked his meat well done on the outside, but a bit bloody on the inside.
Strips were better than chunks.
And pork was, far and away, his favorite meat so far.
She dared not feed him any human meat at this early stage in his development. Who knew what could happen? He might come to develop… unsavory habits.
"My lady." Ser Dayne spoke from the entrance. "We have arrived."
"Enter." Edelgard couldn't help but smirk when she heard the guardsman gasp. "Yes, it is a dragon. I have named him Hresvelgr. A… foreign ruler's name. Of an empire long gone, or perhaps that never was. They were also very fond of dragons as well."
Giving the poor man several long, quiet moments to process what she had just told him was a choice on her part. Which was actually rather important - she hoped his memory was at least passable - but the princess really did need to get ready to meet her men. Time waited for no one.
"Commander."
"Yes ma'am!" At her voice he managed a possible salute. "I-I have a report ready for you ma'am."
She listened for a short while, assessed everything he had to say, noted that the small folk had begun the creation of an impromptu memorial near the scorched ruins of Flea Bottom, and deeply, truly wished she could remain to hold King's Landing for herself rather than trust it Ser Lannister. But there simply wasn't another option with both Ser Jonothor Darry and Ser Lewyn Martell dead at the Trident and Ser Barristan yet to be recovered.
Mostly she watched as Hresvelgr stared the man down, small wisps of smoke already curling from his snout, and contemplated who she would raise to replace their grievous losses amongst the Kingsguard. Dismissing the commander with a nod and a word, she was alone with her man again and, finally, relaxed a bit.
"I blame all this sitting around and waiting."
Shrugging, the knight offered the only comfort he could.
"Bad news flies with the raven, good only with the ship's sails."
That got a shake of the head in response. A wry grin too.
"If only things were so simple as news." Standing up, and ignoring the squawk of complaint of her partner, she strolled over to the late Hand's desk. "Even this is a gambit. Saltspear and Feather are making sure the rumors circulate in the alehouses and inns. The Gold Cloak's and servants will spread their own rumors too." She slammed her hand into the desk. "But we must make this count. House Targaryen has a dragon again. I… we… I must make this count. And letting my companion be exposed so soon, doubly so when the last dragons died stunted and twisted, seems like it's courting a hidden dagger."
"So what, you'll hide him in this tower until he's big enough to savage a man? Wait until the Seven Kingdoms collapses around you? No, princess, I have served you long enough to know that this risk is one you will take."
Dayne's voice was firm, even, and passionate.
"But that does not mean victory will be as easy as Snow claims. It will need to be won with fire and blood. And perhaps, yes, a generous amount of cheating."
Edelgard smiled.
"We have the fire and blood already. So perhaps it will be as simple as misdirection. I think I found some of the late hand's letters. They include troop counts and estimates. And if I'm reading these correctly, his code was poor and lazy indeed, then we may not be in such a precarious situation after all. Though it does seem my brother shamed our house quite terribly."
Walking over, the former kingsguard gestured for her to continue.
"Well, by this, I would say the rebels numbered about thirty eight thousand. Less than the forty thousand men my brother had. While the Dornish were mauled, and there was a rout, there seemed to be no slaughter. Indeed, confusion amongst rebel commanders and the wounding of Robert Baratheon delayed any pursuit. Combined with a concentration of heavy infantry in their ranks, the same formation that mauled the Dornish light spearmen in close order combat failed to run them down."
This visibly confused the man who looked over the same information.
"If Rhaegar had numbers and lighter forces, why not hold troops in reserve? I understand the brash Baratheon committing all of his men. But if Robert was willing to try and ford a river, then the intelligent thing would have been to shadow him, match his movements, and catch him in the crossing." Shuffling a few sheets around, the knight genuinely seemed frustrated. "I apologize my princess, but was your brother mad!? To take the fight against an enemy in the middle of a stream, to trust light infantry to hold against veteran northern men at arms, and to not hold a reserve of any kind. These are the mistakes of an amateur. What… what happened?"
Shaking her head, the royal had to take a seat. Either this was false information, unlikely considering Lord Tywin had received something similar enough to be willing to act on it, or her brother was truly incompetent.
"Perhaps… he was given false counsel?"
Raising an eyebrow, the Dornishman couldn't keep the doubt out of his voice.
"To such a degree he erred so terribly?" He raised a hand. "I apologize for answering a question with a question, but he should have had scouts, outriders, and informants. Assuming all of them failed, he should have still held the bank and forced the rebels to fight in the river."
Inclining her head, she accepted the point.
"So that begs the question. What, then, convinced my brother to abandon every advantage? Prophecy obsessed he might have been, but an idiot he was not." She shook her head. "Still, we are in a not so terrible situation. We can levy perhaps another three thousand men from the Crownlands. Another thousand or so sellswords. Plus the city guard. King's Landing will be secure. Tell me, though, do you think we should aim to recover the Redwyne's fleet and secure the sea? Or focus on mustering a response on land?"
Time passed as they worked late into the night, pouring over reports and details. Orders were issued, audiences received, and plans were lain. In the end, the sun was starting to rise when Edelgard fell asleep. She was cuddled in a great armchair, her dragonling snuggled into her arms, with her knight's cloak draped over her.
Her final thoughts turned towards the future. How soon she'd be with her mother and brother again, perhaps even another sibling too, if the gods would be kind. Though in truth she was unsure if that would be good or bad.
After all, another child meant another target for their enemies to attack.
The air was cleaner than King's Landing. Dragonstone, the castle in this case, smelled like fish guts. An improvement the princess ruminated on as a gangplank fell from the lip of the fat bellied trader she'd hired to bring her to the island. It did not change the fact she was still deeply, deeply frustrated by what she was having to do.
"Saltspear."
"Yes princess?"
Her man was quick to answer, the Ironborn as eager to respond as he always was. It was something she appreciated from the twisted warrior. His father had been a reaver and, with a thick stick of wood, beaten every emotion except loyalty and hate out of the ugly, squat spearman. That had left him perfectly suited as a guard and more than a bit predisposed to slavish obedience. Blessedly, his mind had not been beaten out of him and he remained clever and quick witted.
"Take a few men. Find where the Spider has set up his nest. Bring him to me."
She didn't need to look to know that he was grinning. The eunuch had endeared himself to few people and her pet shark was ever eager to sink his teeth into fat and flesh.
"How alive?"
Edelgard seriously considered the question as her group dropped to the dock below, crossing the way in full plate, her axe on her back as, no more than a speck in the sky, Hresvelgr soared above them.
"Alive enough to stand trial. Preferably not so broken that others feel bad for him."
A nod and a few words to his men and Saltspear was moving. Arthur stepped closer, his eyes ever moving over the crowd around them, sword sheathed but loose in its hilt. His body language spoke of tension, even as he did his best to seem casual.
"Can we afford to take such a risk? If those letters were true, perhaps it would be best to stomp him out and be done with it."
The Targaryen felt a flicker of annoyance.
"And if we hunted him with the intent to kill, he would go to ground and we'd never catch him. If he thinks we merely seek his hide, he may yet try to bargain. Or, at the very least, weasel his way out of consequences. More importantly, if he yet thinks he has a way to win, we must know."
Her sworn sword gave a jerky nod, clearly uncomfortable with the thought of one of the most dangerous men in the Seven Kingdoms as not only their enemy, but alive and able to weave his webs. After all, a dead man could hardly order poison slipped into wine.
Though, admittedly, he could have orders in place for his death.
"Besides, all we have are the suppositions of a mad pyromancer." She was still uneasy, Edelgard could admit that, but depending on what they found here she could at least gauge the overall situation. "I am worried though. Why is no one here to greet us? Even if Mother is gravid, I would have expected a reception."
By this point, they had crossed across the port, brushing off the harbor master with a single dark look, and were walking up the long path to Dragonstone Castle. And, truthfully, spending her time caring for Hresvelgr and reading the letters of the previous Hand of the King hadn't exactly been conducive for her nerves. The trading ship had at least been swift, doubly so since it was only somewhat loaded, but she was still deeply worried about how her men were progressing.
"Wait, is that the king's banner?"
Vaegon Seed, one of the knights to remain with her, pointed up at the flags flying from keep.
"And Mother's is… Gods no."
They didn't even have horses, but that hardly slowed the group of warriors. Because if what they were seeing was true, then something terrible had happened. Instead of the Queen's Banner, the Banner of the Royal House, and the Prince's Banner flying from the ramparts, there was only the Banner of the King.
Reaching a postern, the princess slammed her fist against it with enough force to shake the door in its hinges. It still took far, far too long for someone to answer.
"Yeah? What is it?"
Gruff, and a bit slurred from sleep, the voice within was far, far too simple to understand what was about to happen.
"Open up you drunkard!" Not that Edelgard particularly cared at this moment. "Your princess commands you to open before I break this door down!" When the man snorted from within her temper spiked and she lashed out with an armored fist, denting the wood. "I said open this door now!"
"Fuck off ye cunt! Who the Hell do you think you are, banging on this door? The king ordered the castle secured. No one in and out except through the front gate for the daily deliveries." There was the sound of something scraping from behind the entryway. "And you're going to have to do a lot to get out of a floggin' lassie."
The warrior woman had gone splotchy red in anger. So furious that she was incapable of speech. Even Arthur stepped back, tentatively licking his lips and wondering if he could save the life of the idiot guardsman. If only to avoid his mistress being accused of tyranny so early into her role as leader of the Seven Kingdoms. Though, when she unsheathed Byleth and pulled the massive dragonbone axe over her shoulder, he closed his eyes.
Wood did poorly, no matter how thick, when a woman with the strength of several grown men brought a weapon made of magical material into repeated, intense contact with it.
That is to say it took her three swings to reduce the fortified entrance to splinters.
Within, the guardsman was both dumbstruck and terrified. The princess marched forward, grabbed him by the throat with one hand, lifted him in the air, and shook him about like a kitten. Eventually, she tried to grind out a question but only managed a series of angry noises.
"You. Hey. Focus up." Ser Dayne stepped next to his mistress's side. "She asked you what happened to the queen."
Eyes bulging, fingers scrabbling at the steel grip slowly crushing his neck, the guardsman managed to croak out a single word.
"Dead."
Edelgard's grip tightened. Enough that Arthur put his hand on her shoulder.
"If he's dead he can't answer questions." Turning to the rapidly purpling man, the Sword of the Morning asked his next question. "And who is the king now?"
Steel fingers relaxed fractionally.
"Viserys."
And then promptly returned to near neck snapping levels.
The boy was being played. Her family was being manipulated. And a seven year old child had neither the political influence, nor the wherewithal to declare himself king. Never mind trying to hold Dragonstone. She knew her brother and while Viserys was hardly perfect, he had learned the importance of discretion being the greater part of valor. There was no way he would have been able to rally the lords of Dragonstone.
It was the other way around really.
Which means that someone else was pulling his strings like a puppet.
And where there were strings, there was a spider weaving them.
"Varys." She scornfully spat.
He was the only one who could have convinced her wayward brother to think he had a chance of being king while King's Landing was under siege. Probably knew that Tywin's attack had the aid of others on the inside. Explaining why he had fled the city without bothering to do more than send letters by raven for the last several weeks.
What he might not have accounted for was the siege failing. And a very angry older sister to come trampling her way after his skull. Or, perhaps, he did know she would survive and thought he could hide behind Viserys if he blew the little boy prince's ego out of proportion.
'What a mess.'
One she'd have to deal with before she went on to face the still intact rebellion.
"My princess." Arthur interrupted her before she could pop the guardsman's head like a zit. "It would be best to act while we still have the initiative. The Spider will slip through our fingers if we dally."
Her knight was, of course, correct.
Thus she opted to be reasonable and just choke the man into unconsciousness, dropping the bruised, battered, but alive man to the ground.
"Was that necessary?"
She turned to him, a placid smile replacing her previous murderous snarl- though there was still anger dancing in her eyes.
"Wholly. Now Varys might survive our next encounter. Though I still strongly doubt he will endure the coming fortnight, not unless he has a very good excuse. And by that I mean one that I also find acceptable, not merely believable."
Once more pushing through the castle, her party physically shoved their way through a group of men at arms who had come to investigate the breach. Edelgard spared nothing more than a single lip curling sneer for the quivering men. Even the Gold Cloaks had held together when the fighting and screaming had started back in King's Landing. What did it say that these men were so craven that one little girl could cow them?
Admittedly, she had yet to put away Byleth, was herself clad in full plate, sans helmet and arming cap, and was backed by Ser Dayne, himself in full plate, and both Vaegon and Aaron in chainmail. That is to say, they looked the part of a squad of enraged knights.
It was only outside of the great hall, deep within the Stone Drum - the innermost portion of the keep - that any sign of true resistance was mounted.
"Ser Darry." Edelgard had calmed herself enough that she was no longer in a rage. "Step aside."
Blocking the entrance to the great hall was a squad of fourteen spearmen. They had formed a line and presented the points of their weapons, leading them was the Master-at-Arms of the Red Keep himself, Ser Willem Darry. He was pale, a bit wan, but his jaw was set in a firm line as he held his sword before him.
"No, princess, I can not. I will not let you kill the king."
His words made her laugh.
"And who claimed I am here to do that!?"
In his response he actually made her feel a thrill of fear.
"Lord Varys. He reports that you slew your father, seized power over King's Landing, burned Lord Tywin's army alive, and that you have even convinced Ser Arthur to forsake his vows. I see from the fallen Kingsguard's armor that the eunuch spoke truly."
The Spider was well informed as always…. and just as always chose to misinform all those around him. Though, objectively, even she was forced to admit that Varys hadn't actually lied in a very technical manner of speaking. Not that it would save him.
"Allow me to be perfectly clear Ser Darry. The kingdom is in crisis, my mother is dead-" She ignored the way the man winced when she brought that up. "My brother thinks I'm here to murder him, and no one has even thought to tell me if I have a new sibling or not. Am I mourning another stillborn brother or sister and my parents?"
The hall was quiet as her old tutor shifted uncomfortably.
"A sister. Danaerys, by your mother's will."
Jerking her head in a nod, the princess decided to take the good with the bad. She offered up a silent prayer to the gods for her mother's soul and for letting her sister live.
"Good. Then I will go see her after I'm done speaking with my brother." She walked straight up to the spear line, staring down one of the men at arms. "I will not ask you to move out of my way again. But I will simply say - do you truly think you could stop me?" Letting Byleth slam into the stone floor of the castle, every man opposing her jumped at the sound. "Because I will be seeing my brother."
Familial love was a strong motivator, Edelgard found.
Something she'd perhaps lacked in her previous life, it was a strange new experience to find herself feeling responsible towards the youngest of her new family. Perhaps because she was the only one of sound mind they could trust.
Perhaps she herself craved the closeness.
She knew deep in her bones, however, that if these men stood between her and her younger brother for any longer there would be no force in the Seven Kingdoms able to keep her from utterly and completely slaughtering them.
What a mysterious feeling that was.
"Now. Am I going to have to force my way inside?"
Ser Darry held, at the very least she could say that, but the spearmen did not. The one she was staring down stepped to the side, refusing to meet anyone's eyes, and let her pass. And before her former tutor could react the princess pushed her way forward, her men following close behind and more than ready to leap to her defense.
No words were said as she smashed the lock of the door, pushing the door open under her own power.
Servants scurried back and forth, darting about the place, even Ser Darry rushed past her to reach Viserys. Seeing him there, sitting on a small covered chair, she wanted to laugh. She wanted to cry. He was small, even for a seven year old, and there was fear in his eyes. A fear of her, a fear of the men around him as he glanced about, even, it seemed to the princess, fear of himself.
She utterly ignored everyone else in the room, from the lowest serving girl to the highest lord, walked straight up to her kin, and, right when it seemed he would wail in terror, hugged him tight.
"Little brother." Her arms pulled him close, burying his face in her neck. "I heard about Mother. I'm so, so sorry I wasn't here." Men moved about in the background and Byleth was once more stuck in the stone floor. She trusted Arthur to handle the others. "And… is she?"
The words didn't quite come out right. Their parents had a history of stillborn and weak children. Incest aside, it had never been easy for Rhaella to bring life into the world.
"She's fat. Keeps the wet nurses up all night." Viserys's tiny arms wrapped around her neck, the young boy sniffling and struggling not to cry. "Danaerys was born during the big storm, so they're calling her Stormborn. I thought it was stupid but no one listens to me even though they say I'm king now and that you murded Father and wanted to murder me and no one listens and I'm sorry and thank you, thank you, thank you for coming back."
Babbling and crying, the young boy in her arms poured out his fear and sorrow and terror. Edelgard felt tears prick her own eyes, a deep, painful weight in her stomach finally lightening a little. In the end, she kept from crying, if only just, and once her precious brother was only sniffling, she took him by the hand - accepting a discrete cloth to wipe her shoulder.
"Why don't we go see her?"
By now the hall had been cleared, Ser Dayne might not be dressed like a Kingsguard but there wasn't a man in Westeros stupid enough to challenge him. Doubly so when two angry looking Black Eagles were backing him up.
Their walk was quiet except for the occasional sniffle from Viserys, the two siblings content to simply share in mutual grief. Eventually though, her brother spoke up and began asking the obvious questions.
"So, um, what happened with Aunt Elia and Rhaenys and Aegon? And I suppose you really did kill Father?"
Sighing, she shook her head.
"I'll explain exactly what happened to you when you're a bit older. But… no. Infiltrators breached the castle. They did not survive. The throne room was mostly gutted by wildfire." Her lips curved into a sad sort of smile. "But something good did come of this."
Strolling over to an open window, one facing the sea, she reached out with the tiny spark that burned in her breast. Casting it forward she was soon rewarded with a squawk.
"Is that a dragon!"
The prince's voice had gone high and reedy as, with all the grace of a cart load of bricks, a large dog sized lizard swooped in through the window and promptly began chewing on a particularly fat fish. Edelgard, for her part, couldn't help but chuckle a little. Putting a hand on her brother's shoulder, she brought him a bit closer and knelt down.
"His name is Hresvelgr. He was born that night. Go on, pet him. He knows how to behave."
It took several seconds for the young man to make up his mind and, slowly, reach his hand out.
"That's right Viserys. Just like with a dog. Let him smell you."
Hresvelgr brought his head up to the outstretched hand of the little boy, took one whiff, opened his mouth, and promptly began licking all over the child's fingers. This left the princeling giggling, even as he made a face at the slimy, fishy tongue getting all over him.
It warmed her heart.
Her new family might be in ruins, but there were still something left and Edelgard found she would move heaven and earth to protect her brother and the small drake she'd hatched. A kindling warmth in her iron-clad chest.
She'd indulge in it later.
There was still something left to do.
"Now, why don't you introduce me to our sister? I'm sure she already misses her big brother."
Viserys, bless his heart, excitedly agreed, scampering forward with Hresvelgr following him much like a loyal puppy. She couldn't help the silent chuckle that escaped her. She might have spoiled the little drake a tad much. So, as she followed behind them, the older princess wondered what to do next.
Protect her siblings, yes. It was at the very top of the list.
But there were more immediately pressing matters.
King's Landing was secured for the time being, but she couldn't dismiss the possibility that the city would be attacked again. Whether by more traitors or by the rebellion which even now steadily marched on them.
'So much to do. So many plans to make.'
This second life was turning out to be as hectic as the first.
Even then, those assets she had at her disposal were dwindling. She'd split her strength in the hopes of accomplishing as much as possible, but that also left her vulnerable. Without even her personal squad of knights she lacked more than a few swords and her own powers. Which, while not inconsiderable, would hardly cow the lords of the Crownlands if they decided to be intransigent.
'To that end, who even is here? Lord Velaryon? The Crackclaw Lords? Lord Celtigar or Bar Emmon or Sunglass? How many did Varys gather, why was he not in the throne room, and to what end is he playing this game?'
All thoughts of political intrigue and planning for war, however, vanished when they finally arrived at the room. There was something there… something different which writhed inside her stomach, coiling around itself like a serpent.
A feeling which grew stronger as she approached the small bed where her newborn sister rested.
She was beautiful.
Well, that was a bit of a lie. As Viseys said, she was a chubby little thing with skin much too pale for her liking, almost sickly so. But Edelgard couldn't help the sensation that spread through her veins at the sight of her.
This was her sister.
This was what was left of her family.
Just the three of them.
Removing her gauntlet, undoing the laces, she ignored the nurses that skitteread about the place. Instead, the princess reached forward tentatively, almost skittishly, the warmth of the babe's skin warmed the princess's cold digit. Smiling as she gently ran her fingertip over the little one's brow, she couldn't help but relax a little.
No matter what came in the future, this would be worth it. The sleeping babe, her little brother who even now had one hand on Hresvelgr's head and the other grabbing at the hem of her tabard, and what they had. This was worth fighting for and she would never permit an upstart and a whoremonger to harm them.
And Tywin Lannister would die screaming, if only for his treachery.
Varys though… she would keep him alive. At least until Hresvelgr was big enough to eat the lump of fat on his own. Treason would never prosper so long as she was still alive.