The morning of Rhaegar's arrival, Dany had her son's nurses lay out his finest clothing in his nursery. He was only a few moons past his first nameday, still slept in the cradle, but Dany did not want his father to think him a weak child, always clinging to his mother. Thus, when Rhaegar sent word that he was preparing to return to King's Landing, Dany slowly encouraged her son to grow more independent. She began by allowing him to spend more time with Aegon and Rhaenys instead of keeping him always at her side, did not rush to his comfort when he misplaced a toy and seemed as though he would cry. It tore at her but her son was a clever child, gentle and not quick to tears, and he took it as best as a babe his age could.

She had him pick out his own clothes that day. In truth, her son likely did not know what he was doing; Dany held up each item of clothing and he reached for them all just the same. It was only when he held on tighter to the black breeches and the black velvet doublet lined with rich red thread that she dressed him, lay kisses all over his face and could not help but smile when he giggled, clung to her hair until she lifted him in her arms.

It helped to keep down the bile that threatened to rise in her stomach each time she thought of seeing Rhaegar again, focusing everything on her son instead, busying herself with thoughts of whether he should wear a cloak or which crown to place on his head.

Elia and Lyanna seemed unmoved by his absence these long months, Lyanna more concerned with want for her son's return than her husband's. If they could share their sorrow, perhaps, it would lighten the load and yet they seemed not to be burdened by it. It left Dany feeling more alone than she had ever felt before, even in those days when everyone had left her on Dragonstone, stifling her sobs on her pillows at night, thought of how lonely her bed had become to her when it seemed only yesterday it was filled with her husband's warmth and the sounds of their pleasure.

She had written to him, as he commanded, but their letters had no passion in them, no love, simply filled with news of the capital and of Aelyx's progress. Each time she thought to reach out, speak of how she missed him or how she loved him still, she felt her heart hardening, thinking to how he had left her when she was still in her birthing bed.

Her strength lost her as she stood by the holdfast in the king's own rooms with the rest of their family and though they chattered on amongst each other, Dany found herself clinging tighter and tighter onto Aelyx, trying to make out the sounds of footsteps outside. It seemed like an age but like a second when he finally walked in, alone and without his knights, looking somehow so much older than his years, wearier than Dany had ever seen him. He went to them one by one, giving Elia a kiss on her cheek and though she said some words to him Dany did not hear it, the pounding in her ears drowning it all out. He moved on to Aegon after that before going to Lyanna, who glowered, likely at his return with her son, but let him embrace her nonetheless.

Rhaenys was not here, would never be with them again if Dany knew anything of the will of kings and their wrath should their works be undone. She had left with her uncle and though Aegon swore he had not permitted her, Dany knew she would not have done so without his approval. There had been a raven, telling she had wed some Dornish lord, and when Dany had written to Rhaegar to inquire after her, he had simply responded that he had no more daughter.

Finally, he came to Dany, kneeling on the ground so he was at eye level with Aelyx. Her son was smiling, one hand in his mouth and the other holding on to Dany's, swinging gently from side to side. She was grateful her son had a pleasant demeanor and had not yet learned to fear strangers, looking at his father with hardly a trace of reserve.

"And who do we have here?" Rhaegar asked, and Dany was pleased that to see he was almost beaming, "What is your name, little prince?"

"Aelyx!" Her son declared proudly, and her husband's smile grew.

"And what a handsome doublet that is…" Rhaegar began.

Her son interrupted, happily, "Do byself!"

Dany could hear Aegon's laugh and her husband seemed pleased by it too. She gave her son a little push on his shoulder, as they'd practiced with Ser Jaime, and he walked into his father's arms, squealing as he lifted him into the air.

Only then did Rhaegar approach her, their son clinging onto his neck, laying a warm kiss so close to the edge of her mouth that Dany had to resist the urge to turn her face fully towards him. The desire to be near him shamed her, even as she felt the anger she had held onto so tightly ebb in her chest.

"You look well, sister," He said, his voice quiet, "We will speak tonight."

She did not remember the last time she heard Rhaegar yelling.

He was not a man prone to fits of rage. He could be brutal in his words and ruthless in his actions, so single-mindedly focused on his aims, but he had never laid a hand to her, Elia, or any of the children, nor did he ever raise his voice in chastisement or rebuke. It drove Lyanna to madness in those early years when she had been filled with so much wrath, a fury that seemed an indispensable part of her grief, when she would cry and weep and try to bring that same emotion out of her husband. When she could not, she tried to hurt him, cursed him, his name, his family, screamed at him until she was hoarse and still he treated her with the same cool sympathy, the same tempered nature.

The only word that could describe her husband now, however, was furious, his eyes alight with a fire that she had wished for in those years, a fire that might have saved her, saved them if he had only let her see it.

Now, however, it was not an attempt to work herself into his skin, to wring out some reaction from him, some truth, no longer a game she played to win his affection, his love, his pain. It was not so trivial, not when it involved her son, not when she had to find out from him and not his father that he was to journey north, a raven sent from Maidenpool where he awaited his ship to White Harbor. She had dreamed of Jon in Winterfell more times than she could remember, imagined Ned taking them into his arms, Benjen teasing a smile out of him. She would take him to all the places she had loved in her youth, that spot in the Godswood where the red flowers grew on the ground and the paths she had tread, the places she had hid and ran and laughed with her brothers through the vast castle.

She had let those dreams die early on in her marriage, along with all her other ones, the remnants of the girl she had been on the way to her brother's wedding when another choice was taken for her. Rhaegar had explained it all so calmly, so sensibly that it almost made sense; her brother, her Ned, was a rebel who had wisely bent the knee but there were people in his lands who still harbored dreams of a different king, harbored malice and hatred, and for Lyanna and Jon to go north would be an opportunity for them to strike, to use them in order to force his hand. Maybe when the realm was more stable, he had said, then they would all go together, and though hope bloomed in her heart for far too long, she knew better now.

He wanted them close; she knew to protect them, could not deny him that, but it was to control them too she knew, to erase the likelihood of any other kind of life, even one that existed only in their dreams.

She had learned apathy, that much was true, but not when it came to Jon, never when it came to Jon.

Lyanna had waited for him in his solar, did not heed Ser Arthur's stern warning that the king did not wish to meet anyone after so long a journey but she had known he would not forcibly turn her away so she had walked in anyway, sat behind her husband's desk.

"You would take my only son away from me?" She asked, once he was in the room.

Whatever contentment he might have felt at his arrival and his return to the place he considered his home disappeared almost instantly from his face and Lyanna knew that if he were not a king, just any other tired husband, he would have left the room, left her to her dark mood.

"Not now," He said, instead.

She stood up, wished she had the strength to throw the desk across the wall, throw him across the wall.

"If not now, then when?" She snapped, "You lied to us from the start, you made it out to be some honor, taking him and him alone with you to Oldtown, when all you wanted to do was manipulate him, make it so that he returned to King's Landing…"

Rhaegar interrupted, holding a hand up between them, as though it could stop the assault of her words, "I thought we had grown past this, enough. Jon will only remain in the North for a year or two and then he will take his place in Dragonstone, where he will marry and you will be free to join him and his bride should you wish."

"His bride?" She asked, putting herself between him and the door, "If it is as you say, nothing more than your wish for him to grow accustomed to his mother's home and the home of her remaining kin then why did you not tell me of your plan, why did you not write to them so I may join our son?"

Her son was going north, and Ned would take him into his arms, and Benjen would tease a smile out of him, but she would not be there. She would be in King's Landing instead, a viper's nest that would have swallowed them whole years ago had it not been for each other. He was out of her reach now, she feared forever, firmly in his father's grasp, his father's tool, and she knew even her brothers would not be able to shield him from that.

"Do you not believe I act in the best interests of our child?" He shot back, his tone still even, still untouched.

Lyanna scoffed, "The only interests you consider are your own. Though I suppose you have a new son now, another useless child with no place in your grand plans, why should you have need for Jon? You might as well have him take the black. That is what you kings do, is it not, when you wish to undo a mistake, you conceal it?"

That was when it happened. The coldness that her husband had worn like a cloak every day of their marriage was stripped away, leaving in front of her a man, not a prince nor a king but a man enraged, a man who was not thinking of what was proper or what was wise or courteous, a man not thinking at all.

"Do you think so little of me?" He hissed, "Do you think so little of the love I bear my sons? You insult him and Aelyx both."

There could be no return now.

"What you give your children is not love," She retorted, and though she struggled to stay calm, not for his sake but for her own, knew how easily her anger gave way to tears and did not wish to allow him that sight, Lyanna heard her voice crack, "You love only yourself Rhaegar."

He might have struck her then if he was a less prideful sort of man, a man who did not heed the words cruel and monstrous spat at him. He would always be gracious and good and chivalrous, if not in the eyes of others than in his own. It is the only matter that concerned him, she had learned, this need to always see himself as good, his actions as righteous.

"I love my children and that is why I do this for them…" He began.

Lyanna had heard it all before. The prince that was promised, the comet in the sky, the danger beyond the wall. How much cruelty could he justify in its name?

She interrupted, "You have left only hate in your wake, that will be your legacy, fire and blood and the tears of your children."

It grew quiet at last between them, perhaps because of the tears streaming down her face or the words that had struck him too deep. I would be a good king, he had told her one of those first nights in their tower, I will be remembered as the savior of the realm.

He seemed weak suddenly, as though he could barely stand, as though it took all the strength of his body to breathe in and out.

"Is that what lies between us, only hate?" He asked, and she was grateful at least he did not reach out for her.

"What lay between us was our love for our son," She replied, wishing he would look her in the eyes, wanting him to meet her gaze, see what he had done, "And you have taken him away from me. There is nothing in it place now, neither love nor hate."

He shook his head at that as though to argue but bit on his bottom lip instead, turned away from her and moved towards the window, unable to look at her.

"Go to Dragonstone, if you wish, wait for our son there. But if you leave King's Landing, then from that day on you should consider myself a husband to you in name only."

What do you think you have been to me all these years, she wanted to ask. He never understood though, never could, this man who saw only what he wished to see, saw a true marriage in place of the empty shell of a relationship, the rotting husk of something that had never been pure to begin with, never sweet.

She did the only thing she could, walked away, and left the man who had never been her husband standing alone.

Dany was surprised when she returned to her chambers that night to find her husband laying in her bed, boots hanging off the side, their son tucked into his arm, holding what looked like a new toy in his hands, a horse carved out of wood with gemstones decorating the eyes and a miniature feathered plume. It was a sweet sight, she could not deny, the similarities between father and son especially clear as they lay in each other's arms, Rhaegar whispering something in his ears that had him giggling and babbling nonsense.

She had heard of the row he had with Lyanna in his rooms, heard of how Lyanna had fled to her rooms after and called her maids to her, beginning to fill chest after chest with her belongings. Aegon had told her in hushed tones on his way to a Small Council meeting that she was leaving for Dragonstone as soon as her household could be prepared. Dany did not expect her husband to come to her, thought he would be too distressed.

"Mama!" Her son called, when he saw her enter the room, but did not reach out for her, content to be in his father's arms.

Dany reached out to kiss him nonetheless, leaning over Rhaegar, shivering when she felt him put a hand on the small of her back and pull her onto the bed with them. She sat perched on the edge, maintaining as much distance as she could, hyperaware of the hand that still lay on her back, that had begun to move slowly up and down, grabbing a handful of her hair.

"He is not unlike you at that age," He said.

"Truly?" She asked, wearily.

"I came to Dragonstone only once before our time there together," He explained, his voice soft, "To see how Viserys was faring and to meet my new sister. He whispered in your ear, likely reminding you to greet you, and you flew into my arms, like Aelyx did. You could barely walk but you dragged me to your nursery to show off your toys and your gowns, and you wept when I left."

Dany had no recollection of it but the thought somehow left her feeling sad. Rhaegar seemed to sense it, pulled her down to lie beside him and no matter how she stiffened, he lay a kiss on her forehead. Reaching over her, he rung the handbell perched on the table beside them, the maid arriving in the room within seconds.

"Take the prince to his nursery," Her husband commanded, kissing Aelyx on the cheek and letting Dany do the same before handing him to the girl who hurried out, closing the door behind her.

She would go to her son later to sing him to sleep, but did not wish to correct her husband in front of a maid.

Dany had dreamed of their reunion, she could not deny it, in those times of the night when she was only half asleep, thought of being in his arms, smelling his hair, his skin (rosewater, always rosewater). More shamefully, she dreamt she could taste him on her lips again; he had only let her do it once, said he did not want to demean her, but in truth it had thrilled her, wrapping her lips around him, tentatively at first until he groaned and she began to trust her instincts, licking and kissing hungrily at him, touching parts of him with her hands she never had before, and when he grew restless and began moving his hips she had grown braver, taking him as far into her mouth as she could until she felt the warmth of his seed down her throat as she swallowed.

She thought of other things though, in those nights without him, thought of his face as he told her he would be leaving, thought of everything that had passed with her son that his father had not been there to witness; his first smile, his first step, his first word. And for what?

Rhaegar turned towards her so they faced each other on the featherbed, bodies pressed together, his hands still in her hair. He wanted comfort, she knew, but could not find it in herself to give it.

"We will go to Blackwater War," He murmured, "Only us and Aelyx. The waters are treacherous but he might enjoy the sight of the river."

They had already been together; Aegon had taken off his boots and rolled up his breeches, holding Aelyx just barely above the river, raising him up and down, in and out of the water, to her son's obvious delight. It would do no good to disappoint his father, however.

A thousand things she might say went through her mind, until the truth prevailed.

"I wish you had not left," She confessed.

He seemed to somehow grow wearier at that, though he did not stop caressing her hair.

"There were matters I had to attend to," He said, as she thought he would, "I shall not leave you or our son again, I promise you. I mean to do things differently this time."

She did not understand his meaning and before she could ask he had filled the silence himself.

"Has Aelyx been weaned yet?" He asked.

Dany bristled at that.

She had been told three moons prior, not through her husband but the maester, the greying creature who Rhaegar let demean her by looking between her legs those weeks when all were praying for the conception of a child. He had come to her in her own solar, explained to her that so long as a child fed at his mother's breast then it would be difficult for the mother to conceive another. It was the king's wish, he declared, as though he knew anything of her husband, that more royal children grace them and therefore it was essential Aelyx be turned over to a wetnurse.

She had obeyed, as she had been taught to do, but it had broken her heart in truth. He was a young babe yet and there was a comfort, a contentment she found in having her son so close to her, depending solely on her, looking up at her with her own eyes as she nourished him.

She knew there must be more children, wanted it, brothers and sisters for Aelyx to play with, grow close as Aegon, Rhaenys and Jon were. Unbidden, she voiced her fears.

"Yes. But what if it is another son?" She asked, ashamed for how weak her voice sounded, "Will you leave us again? Will you grow to resent me, to hate me for it?"

For a moment it seemed as though she could see something like pain on her husband's face before it was replaced with a look of neutral civility.

"I will never hate you," He breathed, and it was so ridiculous, for him to think that is what she wanted to hear, that it would appease her, that she had to hold back a laugh, leaving it to come out a smile instead.

He took that as encouragement to continue.

"We will be as we were," He whispered, as though it was a prayer, "It is our fate, the birth of our beautiful daughters."

And when he pulled up her gown, kissed and teased her, entered her and spent inside before she could reach her peak, Dany did not know what she should pray for.

Notes: So this is it! I was planning on a couple more installments but I'm taking a trip next week and wouldn't have been able to write for a while so thought to finish it all up in one, even if the ending is a little darker and more ambiguous than I anticipated. Thanks for everyone who's been reading and leaving their responses! This was such an experiment for me, both working with these characters as well as writing a multi-chaptered work in this style. It was really encouraging to get this kind of response, I can't tell you how much I appreciated it!