RHAENA
Ser Erryk enters when the dining hall is at its fullest, approaches the table where Rhaena sits with her grandparents, and clears his throat. He apparently has no idea how to announce something without sounding like he's trying to announce something.
Her father decided to maintain his low profile on his final day, and breaks his fast with the boys in private, and Rhaena realizes this leaves herself as the most experienced liar. "Good morning, Ser Erryk," Rhaena says. "Have you broken your fast yet?" she nods as she gives him the first option. "Or would you care to join us?"
"Yes," he says too quickly. "Yes, I have." He looks nervously around the hall to ensure people are listening. "I'm going on my secret mission," he tries to say casually. And then he walks right out the door.
"I think Daemon made the right choice there," her grandsire whispers. "That man is a liability here. You know, because he has no lie abi—"
She interrupts out of habit. "Yes, Grandsire." But her father is not here to mock him.
ELINDA MASSEY
She does not break until the boys apply the final coat of varnish. "So… why are these so important? Why is there a deadline? Why is one just a goose egg?"
It had earlier been decided that no one else might witness their sensitive mission, so Lady Elinda alone had been keeping the boys company in the nursery.
"You are soon to be briefed as to their importance," the Master-of-Arts-and-Crafts declares. "And it is essential that you keep their purpose secret."
She would have assumed she was humouring the whims of children, had she not earlier seen a serious-looking Lady Rhaena and reluctant Prince Daemon visiting one of her fellow ladies-in-waiting.
They argue at the nursery door before they knock.
"Rhaena…" the Prince whines.
"Come on."
"I'm finished! Have I not suffered enough today? This week? Have I not committed to enough further suffering this evening? Why must we take this so far?"
"Because you are a liability."
"I think you're enjoying this too much."
"What difference does that make?"
"No. No. No."
"No room for mistakes. If you can do this, you can do anything."
"Rhaena…"
"Do you want to have to tell Rhaenyra that you fucked up because you didn't do absolutely everything — because you didn't feel like it? What if you freeze? Or walk away?"
"This might be completely unnecessary. What if we're just granted a proper goodbye?"
"You're betting on their good will? You?"
"I'm betting on the green bitch wanting to make herself feel like a hero."
What in the? She looks to the boys for elaboration, but they simply shake their heads and start to stack the eggs by the window for drying.
"Your time will come," Aegon whispers.
Apparently not for awhile, because the argument continues. "That's not Rhaenyra's style," says the Prince.
"I'm willing to bet that it's anyone's style who goes through whatever Rhaenyra has been through. And if it is, don't you think she deserves a few moments of actual, competent support whilst you inundate her with information? Is that not your whole reason for risking this in the first place?"
"I'm ready. I can handle it."
"Need I repeat the passage from Baela's eulogy regarding Mother?"
He sighs.
Someone finally knocks.
"Enter," Elinda calls. A little hesitantly, after overhearing what she just did. "My P— Your Grace…" Elinda is still unclear about titles. Originally, she'd overheard Princess (Queen?) Rhaenyra and her husband discussing King Viserys's concerns, and she'd thought they'd decided that Prince Daemon would remain Prince-Consort and take on the title of Protector of the Realm. But… she supposes if the enemy has a King, they need a King as well.
Regardless, Lady Elinda would often catch herself simply thinking of him as "Daemon!" due to the frequency with which Queen Rhaenyra referred to him as such.
"Just in time," Prince Joffrey says. "These are ready for drying. Next mission: Rhaena's room!"
"No," Lady Rhaena tries. "Not without me there to—" But the boys have already slipped out the door. Rhaena sighs and closes the door behind them. They turn their attention to Lady Elinda.
I do not like where this is going…
From his expression, neither does "Daemon!"
Lady Rhaena abandons them to each other after a half-hour. "Oh, and no yelling at her or threatening her to get her to stop. I'll know!"
"You cannot leave me with her Rhaena!" the Prince pleads.
"I have taught you all that I can."
"But Rhaena…" she overhears beyond a waterfall. "What if I get so overwhelmed that I start crying?"
"Well, this is your practice for not doing that either. No one likes the person who's so focused on their own feelings that they outcry the crier!"
They continue as is for some time, and eventually, Lady Rhaena does escape. "I will check on you in a half-hour."
Terrified at the prospect of being left with the Rogue Prince, Lady Elinda lets out another whimper. "An hour," Rhaena amends. "Besides, I should probably keep an eye on the boys whilst they redecorate my room."
"Redecorate?" he says. Apparently desperate to keep her in the room.
"I'm guessing that's what they were referring to. By official decree of the Master-of-Arts-and-Crafts, my nest egg only counts if it's kept next to my bed in its own special brazier. I worry for what they have planned."
"They're not trying blood magic, are they? I told them no blood magic!"
"I think they're just fixating to protect themselves from being overwhelmed. You know, like how you do with violence or being inappropriate."
"Very funny."
"Not a jape." Her footsteps approach the door, but then stop there. "Was my nest egg placed with the others from its clutch? Or… which method did you use?"
"That's a Syrax egg. And what do you mean?"
Do they remember that I'm here?
"How did you organize the eggs into the braziers?"
"I don't know, in order of whichever ones I grabbed?"
Lady Rhaena makes a pained sound. "You just… put them in… randomly?"
"The dragon keepers record and mark which egg comes in when. What need would there be—"
"Colour? Size? Texture? Breed? Age?"
"Why?"
"Because otherwise, they're just… ugh… I have to go. I have some matters to arrange. Have fun."
Lady Elinda is left at the mercy of His Grace, and His Grace at the mercy of Lady Elinda. They turn to each other, both seem equally terrified at the prospect. He joins her on the sofa but sits as far away as it allows.
Lady Elinda had already been having a particularly bad moon in her personal life. She'd been having a particularly stressful week in her professional life, and now, today, not only did she learn of the fate of her now-Queen she'd come to regard with such fondness, but she is now tasked with keeping a secret of such importance, and abandoned to the Rogue Prince!
To his credit, he does remain there dutifully, if distantly, until she catches her breath. Until she catches her breath enough to say, "You are truly bad at this."
"So?"
"So… are you not 'suffering' for a reason?"
He groans, slides closer, and hesitantly pats her on the shoulder. "There there."
Dear me, our Queen is doomed.
He does make an admirable effort before he ends up begging for mercy, or at least instructions. Strangely enough, thinking about instructions does help her calm herself, and she takes solace in passing forward everything she's learned in the hopes it might help Prince Daemon not accidentally set the whole meeting on fire. But once she has drained her mind of anything possibly useful, the water returns.
"What did I do?" the poor man asks.
"It's not you, everything's happening at once!"
"Ugh… Rhaena, where are you? Wait, was I supposed to remind her not to touch the eggs while they're hot? Never mind."
"I think she'll be fine. She's not the one who—"
"If one more person says burned at the pyre — wait, you were crying then too. You cry an awful lot. Seriously, what's your problem?"
"I helped raise the Prince!"
"Yes but… you're always crying. So hard."
"I… I don't know. I don't like feeling useless."
"It appears you are easily overwhelmed. Have you ever tried… fixating on something else through which you can channel your emotions? Like say… violence?" He considers. "Or arts and crafts? But be warned, you're still in danger of becoming a Rhaena; you'll only give yourself more pain. Who sorts eggs?"
"I don't understand what's happening," she chokes.
He offers no reply and she looks up to see him appraising the room, most likely planning his escape. He turns his attention to the target the boys had made for ball-throwing practice, then he turns to her. "How old are you? I have no idea. Once you reach a certain age all young people just look like children. Unless you're my brother, of course."
"What?"
"You're responsible enough, I suppose. I know what you need. I will return! If Rhaena comes back, just keep crying. Yes, like that! Perfect."
The fact that he disappears is not surprising. What's surprising is the fact that he soon returns. What he returns with is not surprising, though.
RHAENA
She abandons her father for much longer than intended, but she does actually have much to attend to. First, stop the boys from setting her room on fire. Fortunately, she finds them arguing with the guard at her door. Joffrey lugs a tiny brazier. "Worry not," he assures her. "This is from the priests."
She puts her hands on her hips and looks down at him. "I think someone is starting to reach outside their domain," she warns.
"No. This enables our craft. Otherwise, your egg doesn't count! Therefore, it falls under my domain."
She sighs and decides to indulge him. Better this than plotting another attempt on King's Landing. She takes the brazier and promises to set it up immediately. Joffrey then leads his charges to their next 'mission'.
After setting up her nest egg, she spends more time than she'd like to admit trying to find a suitable way to categorize her eggs. For a moment she wonders if she too is fixating, but then she decides that sorting the eggs by undertone and ensuring each group has various primary colours is the best option.
Deciding that her father needs all the desensitization he can get, Rhaena decides to make her rounds before returning. She checks on Gerardys to find that not only have the others already made it to Driftmark, but that a response was already waiting for them upon their arrival.
A strange, loud noise makes its way down the corridor as she returns to the nursery with her news, as if something is repeatedly hitting against a wall. Several people stop and start to whisper. She forgoes knocking and enters just as the arrow pierces Otto's head. At least, she assumes it is Lord Otto. The boys have a ways to go in their artistry, but they have decorated this particular target with several tell-tale symbols.
"Seriously?" Rhaena exclaims.
"I know," her father says from the sofa. "She's good, right?"
"Father."
"You said to get her to stop crying without scaring her. You did not say how."
"You know I could hear you from down the corridor? The arrows are hitting the wall. Since 'teaching a young Lady to do archery in the nursery' isn't exactly the natural conclusion, and knowing your past reputation, people are going to come to their own conclusions."
"Interesting…" her father ponders.
"Anyways," Rhaena brandishes the raven's scroll, "we're set for tonight."
He rises to meet her. "So, Beesbury actually played his part."
"It would seem so."
"Who did he speak with?"
"Alicent."
"Oh, well, not so impressive then. That woman will hear whatever she wants to hear."
"No Joffrey though; he'll have to settle for sentry duty."
"We thought as much."
Rhaena then does turn her attention to the target. "She is good," she admits.
Lady Elinda offers a shy smile. "I've spent a lot of time playing with young boys; you know they were throwing balls at this target for hours? Anyways, I suppose I've picked up some skills."
Rhaena turns to her father, who is clearly asking a silent question. She considers, then answers. "I suppose Ser Erryk could use the extra time; I should probably brief him myself, later. And she'll have an easier time ducking down."
Her father turns to Elinda. "I need a babysitter for tonight. A babysitter who can act as a… line memorizer, weapons valet, sentry, and possibly but hopefully not likely as an emergency archer. Are you scared of dragons?"
"I… no more than the average person, I would think. Mayhaps a bit less?" Rhaena remembers that she had often brought the boys to visit their dragons, and even seemed to find Stormcloud a bit cute.
"Are you scared of heights?" Rhaena asks.
The poor girl then realizes what is about to be asked of her. She clutches the bow like it will protect her from the request to come.
"It will help Rhaenyra…" her father says. "Did you not just say you hate to feel useless?"
Lady Elinda actually… composes herself. And then she nods. "Very well."
"Great," her father says. "Go put together an all-black outfit. Something you can move in. Then meet us back here after midday to go over the… schedule."
"She should probably exit with me," Rhaena says. "Your training honestly sounded like a headboard hitting the wall. We should probably make sure people know nothing salacious was happening here."
"No no," her father says. "I have an idea!"
Rhaena sighs.
"You've been so focused on ensuring a daemon-keeper for abroad, you've neglected to consider an actual babysitter for… the babies. The boys should have someone they know with them. More importantly, someone who knows what's happening, and who knows Stormcloud."
"I suppose," she says. "In that case, we really should be careful though. If we let rumours fly, people are going to assume you took her away as your mistress," she warns. Lady Elinda is not just the gentlest of Rhaenyra's ladies-in-waiting, but also the youngest and prettiest.
"Precisely."
"Oh… good plan," Rhaena acknowledges. "It will sell your departure and probably ease some of Rhaenyra's worries about the boys. And you don't even need to work it into the message since the Greens will throw it in her face when they hear." She turns to Elinda. "Have you ever been interested in… seeing Pentos?"
"I…" she considers. "It sounds better than milling uselessly about the castle pretending not to know what's happening, I suppose. I'm not really much of an actor." Her face then grows serious. "But if I have trouble getting a betrothal after this, I expect a generous pension."
"Very well," her father agrees. "Keep practicing for a while first then. Then start packing. Light. We have a full dragon now," her father warns. "Full dragon."
"Oh and… make certain that people know you are packing," Rhaena says. "But don't actually admit anything."
"I have to be honest," Lady Elinda says. "The ease with which this family schemes can be disconcerting at times."
Fair.
Rhaena turns to her father. "I'll send a raven to let them know we have some extra time for Ser Erryk's training," she says. "You can drop me off on your way to King's Landing; I want to see to it personally. He needs all the help he can get."
Her father rolls her eyes, but Lady Elinda nods solemnly. They return to their viper hunt before she's even left the room.
I think my father might be a bad influence.
SER HARROLD
"Honestly Cole," the Rogue Prince says. "You are so inept, I would not be surprised if you set her on fire by accident. Do you even have a plan for the human torch you've created?"
Apparently, Cole does. "Mayhaps I'll take a lesson from you, and I'll throw her in the ocean first!"
"Go ahead! I've heard enough about you to know that's pretty much the only way you'll get a woman w—"
"Kepa!" his three-year-old babysitter shouts from the dragon. "No trouble!"
The Rogue Prince then spares Ser Harrold a farewell. "Do not tell her," he orders. "It was part of the conditions."
"Tell her what?"
"Oh, no. You truly have no idea what's happening, do you?"
Ser Harrold truly does not.
ELINDA MASSEY
Lady Elinda did not awaken with the intention of crouching atop Caraxes whilst wrangling two children during a dragon standoff. But now that she's here, she is surprised to discover she is quite suited to the role.
Prince Daemon gives Caraxes the cue.
"I'm going to claim Caraxes and fuck you all up," she whispers. "Three, two, one!"
She keeps the bow pointed at the 'dog' whilst Stormcloud is on the pad. Until the Crazy Queen gets annoying, then she points it at her. Elinda might be a crier, but she wouldn't go so far as to cry for herself when faced with someone else's pain that she caused.
While she might enjoy the stage direction, she is grateful that she never finds herself in need of signalling Prince Daemon with her 'warning, you're about to be attacked!' whistle. Nor does Prince Daemon give the signal to fire at her target.
Viserys, however, does fire at the target.
I suppose we now know why the boys were practicing so intently. Still, she wishes they would have told her. She would have ensured they chose an egg with a cracked shell. It would have been much more likely to break open on the viper's face.
She does find herself almost crying when her Queen first falls. But then she remembers she has a job to do. Danger to watch for. Children to direct. And she channels it all to where she can put it to use. She has no desire to mimic the snivelling viper, after all.
But soon a danger emerges that Prince Daemon had not told her to watch for.
Fuck, Rhaenyra is going to lose it.
They should have foreseen this. Who wouldn't lose it?
Fuck, how can she help her not lose it?
And, she's lost it.
The Queen clings to Prince Daemon, unaware of how the soldiers circle. The Prince— King Consort, cannot seem to bring himself to pry her off. Also, she's wrapped her chains around his arm.
Elinda understands. She would likely be losing it just from watching, had she not danger to scout for and children to worry f—
Queen Rhaenyra is as fierce a mother as she is a dragon.
Elinda leans as far down Caraxes as she can without being seen. "Aegon," she whispers. "Perch on Caraxes' head, get your mother's attention!"
He does so just in time. Caraxes is also concerned about what transpires on the pyre.
The Hightowers take the Queen.
"Worry not, sister! Aemond was only out for a few hours."
"Aegon!"
Daemon's laugh comes from too far away. "Wait, you had to addle that pretender? For getting Baela-ed? A borne king-breaker, that one."
"I'm not getting her key until you're gone," the 'dog' warns.
"Cole, you do know they keep you around to feel better about themselves, right? Even you cannot be daft enough to think it's your company they desire."
Another hazard Elinda did not foresee, but probably should have — Daemon!'s temper and impulsivity. We didn't make a signal for this…
Prince Daemon trades several more barbs with the 'dog' before it escalates.
They said babysitter, not daemon-keeper. Still, she should not be surprised. "Tell your father to stop making trouble," she whispers.
He actually does. It takes all her self-control not to berate him then and there. But she has another task. "Seal," she reminds him. She cannot see where it lands, but she imagines he aimed at some petty target. Then she notices something else.
"Did you forget your coat?"
RHAENA
"Stop!" Rhaena orders before they can step into the light of the beach bonfires. "Check for fuel!"
The Sea Snake cuts off Stormcloud's soiled ropes and leads him back to the water. Having been mounted the whole time, Aegon is clear. But Viserys and her father are both human torches.
Probably.
"Exactly how incendiary do you think this is?" Rhaena asks.
Her grandsire points to Stormcloud, whom he has lit with a torch burn off the remaining. "That incendiary." Even Stormcloud is a bit disconcerted by the flames' speed.
"Message received," her father calls from the dark. Rhaena tosses him his alternate clothes and helps Elinda attend to Viserys. After giving the still-smouldering Stormcloud a second look, she has Aegon change just to be safe.
Her father soon returns to the light, having yet to put his boots on. "Look, I'm Laenor! Except I'm smart and brought a spare pair that fits."
They all ignore him.
"So…" she begins once her father reaches them on the upper bank. "Was it Vhagar?"
He shakes his head. "Sunfyre."
"I suppose we shouldn't be surprised," Rhaena says. "The pretender is the one person who was Baela-ed even worse than you were."
"In terms of long-term damage, that's debatable," her father mumbles.
"I hit the viper with an egg!" Viserys brags.
"Yes, you did," her father confirms. He is somehow both proud and annoyed.
"I trained him!" Joffrey announces.
Not to be outdone, Aegon speaks up. "I threatened Old Aegon!" He turns to their father. "But then he asked you to adopt him."
"Yes… he's a troubled one."
Once everyone is deemed not a human torch, Rhaena, her father, her grandparents and the Queensguard gather around the largest firepit. They send Elinda with Joffrey, Aegon, and Viserys to rub Stormcloud clean of ashes before they secure his new saddle. In sight, but hopefully out of earshot
"And no more schemes!" her father warns. "As funny as they might be."
Joffrey mimics their father's cackle.
Since Joffrey is deemed too young for the conversation, Rhaena takes on the familiar role of cupbearer. Though she imagines everyone wishes for something stronger, she sticks to a weak wine to keep all of Caraxes' passengers sober. Despite likely needing a drink the the most, her father does not argue. "The green bitch really did try to get Rhaenyra to keep the boys there," he says. "And it wasn't just for collateral. They feel bad. It's truly important to them to feel in the right, I suppose."
"Which means," Rhaena says, Rhaenyra needs to stay in the dark. Because in a monstrous situation… they'll need to make her the monster."
They sit with that for some time, staring into the fire.
"Alright," her father says. "Since it worked, be honest. Whose wrote the idea for the pyre of mutually assured destruction?" Ser Erryk had been the one to map out the details using his knowledge of the Keep, but the idea generator remained anonymous.
Ser Steffon raises his hand.
"Really?" her father is impressed. "From the ingenious yet slightly evil nature of it, I was honestly suspecting Rhaena."
She sniffs. "Too irresponsible for my tastes."
"Cole actually gave me the idea," Ser Steffon says. "Not directly, but he certainly likes to refer to Her Grace as an… 'evil temptress witch'. I figured the Hightowers would embrace the poetic… 'justice'."
"They certainly did. Though their application left much to be desired. Loose straw? Really? Though the 'fumes' from the fuel they chose certainly were useful." Her father almost smiles.
Her grandmother notices. "Why are you in such a good mood?" she asks. "I take it you were 'successful' then?"
"In a manner of speaking," her father says, his tone darkening for a moment.
"He faired admirably," Lady Elinda calls from Stormcloud. "Until the very end, that is. You took it way too far."
"Rhaenyra said—"
"You do realize he's likely to avoid her for some time, right?"
He blinks. "Oh… oh no." And then he looks toward the ocean.
"What?" Rhaena asks.
"I possibly might have but cannot be sure to have maybe gotten Rhaenyra thrown into the ocean to aid an idea that she had no way of knowing might not end up bearing fruit for quite some time... Possibly. I do not know how sincere he was. Oh, and I just established a precedent between us for revenge too. If she's getting thrown into the ocean, I'm definitely getting thrown in the ocean."
"I'll do it!" Her grandsire raises his hand.
"Revenge?" Rhaena asks her father.
"Right." He hands something over to Rhaena. "You like poison, Evil One. Have a look at that with Gerardys when you return."
She raises it above the fire for all else to see. "What in the?" Some kind of tweezers or pliers are attached to an empty… sac? with linen tape. There is some kind of… fang attached to the end. Everyone squints, and Rhaena remembers her father complaining once that old people cannot see in the dark as well.
Her father kindly informs them elaborates. "The viper is not immune to its own venom."
"What?" several people ask.
He's smiling again. "We neglected to account for one essential contingency. One that should have been obvious."
"Which is?" her grandsire asks.
"Rhaenyra."
Of course.
"What did she do this time?" her grandmother asks in a tone that is somehow amused and annoyed and impressed and yet worried.
"Charmed Aegon-the-Addled into handing that over. That being a poison that knocks the recipient unconscious for several hours. Smuggled it to the meeting using Cole as her mule, then stabbed the green bitch in the back and timed it so it looked like she fainted. She bought us so much time in the ensuing chaos, all our planning was for naught." He's bursting with pride by the end.
Her grandmother needs a few sips of wine before she manages a response. "I suppose she didn't need us after all."
The smile falls. "Yes, she does," he father insists. "She does need us. She can do what she can, but we cannot fuck this up again. She has a lot of obstacles, and we need to account for them, not her."
"So tell us before you forget and fly around the world," Rhaena says.
"She's being kept in the royal apartment in Maegor's Holdfast, and she's under constant supervision now."
The Queensguard all sigh. Ser Erryk tells them why. "That's probably the hardest part of the Keep to break into."
"I know." Her father nods. "And it also presents us with another problem." He turns to Rhaena. "You and I need speak before I leave. Rhaenyra might not be able to use her candle easily. We need to be prepared for it all to fall to our side."
Rhaena nods, even though she has no idea what she's doing, or why her father chose her.
Her father turns to Ser Lorent. "Marbrand, you have a new job. You are on Westerling duty."
Ser Lorent lights up. "He's alive then?"
"For now. And partially free. It seems they're using him as an ornament for legitimacy. He was present, but didn't have a sword or the ability to give orders."
Which makes him what, exactly? "So… he's a prisoner with a bit more freedom than Rhaenyra," Rhaena concludes.
"Essentially," her father confirms. "I suppose he is the protector from the note. Or rather, a toothless shield to help the green bitch feel better about herself. He certainly didn't have the power to stop Cole from…" He leaves it there.
Everyone becomes very interested in finishing their drinks.
Until her father decides that since they're already uncomfortable, might as well address that other uncomfortable question. "I did at least manage to slip him the whole bottle, or rather, Rhaenyra did. So you need not concern yourself with… that possible complication, should I be gone too long."
Since everyone likely finished their drinks during the previous uncomfortable silence, and Rhaena had not thought to refill, they all become very interested in extracting the final remnants from their empty cups.
Ser Lorent finally opts for a subject change. "So, how am I on Ser Harrold duty, exactly?"
"Once he's… delivered, he's a liability to Rhaenyra," her father says. "He's not manipulative enough to play the game, and he has no real power. That makes him just one more piece of collateral. Your job is to reach him and ensure he is no longer collateral. Be it by freeing him and bringing him here, or by making him useful there. Regardless, he cannot remain as is. With him, Syrax, and Meleys, it's too much collateral. It would be too easy for them to start making examples should she need to step out of line. And his presence lends them too much legitimacy."
Rhaena almost smiles, because he sounds exactly like Baela trying to comfort their grandmother at the council meeting. She wonders if anyone else sees it.
Her father turns his attention to Ser Steffon. "And you… you have a job of your own. You are on Cole duty."
"I… in what way?"
"I need you to start provoking him. Not yet, I did plenty of that myself tonight. But soon."
"Daemon," her grandsire exclaims. "You cannot be serious."
"It's part of Rhaenyra's plan," her father says. "I'm not happy about it, but I cannot exactly see a better way forward."
"Father, he'll take it out on Rhaenyra," she reminds him. "Why would we ever want…"
Let them be, Rhaenyra had japed. For few things will more endear a man to a woman than letting him think he's all that stands between you and dishonour.
"Oh." She still looks to her father for confirmation; he nods and looks away.
"I'm sorry," says Ser Steffon, "I do not understand."
"Understand this," her grandmother says. "Men are stupid, especially in regards to women. Just do it. Try not to think about the why."
Rhaena joins them in trying not to think about the why. Viserys's ghost is everywhere.
They spend some more time exchanging information and refining details for the trip. Her grandsire then goes over the maps he'd annotated for them and suggests several different routes with stops he deems safe.
Her father looks to her grandparents. "I left Laenor's letters in the top drawer of the chest by my bed. Addam means Laenor and Alys means Qarl, the rest you should be able to discern."
"Speaking of letters," her grandmother says. She pulls a scroll from her coat and extends it to her father. "I don't know how long it will take you to return, so I've written a letter to Laenor about how I'm not angry, just disappointed."
Her grandsire also reaches into his coat, and also extracts a scroll to offer. "I too have a letter for my son. About how I cannot be disappointed because that would imply expectations, so I'm just angry."
Her father looks between them, then accepts neither. "Right… I will be delivering neither of those, because I actually do want Laenor to return with me. Why don't we try, 'so relieved that you're alive, and we're sorry about the unfair expectations we placed upon you. Cannot wait to see you again!'"
"Very well," her grandsire grumbles as he puts the scroll away. "But that's only how we lure him in. There's still a lecture coming. For all of you."
Her father uses his serious voice. "If you try to lecture Rhaenyra after this, I will throw you into the ocean." he warns.
Rhaena notes how far the moon has moved. "Should you not be on your way? I thought you hate flying east into the sunrise?"
"We're not leaving for Pentos tonight. We'll have a short night on manly mountain first, then leave once the sun is high in the sky."
"Manly mountain?" her grandmother sneers.
"Where I take the boys. Hunting grounds on Massey's Hook, accessible only by dragon. Where men can be men."
Rhaena rolls her eyes. "You mean Uncle Laenor's old retreat? Where you hide with Jace during dragon-week? That place is furnished. Jace would pack linens and a picnic basket."
"To facilitate our manly hunting. Who knows, mayhaps I can hunt a replacement for my coat." His voice is surprisingly hard by the end.
"I'm going to defend him on this matter," Lady Elinda calls. "That was absurd."
They then do allow her father to explain, and they all come to the conclusion that it was, indeed, absurd.
"Wait," Rhaena asks. "Why is Aegon so concerned with Rhaenyra?"
"Mother issues would be my guess," her father says. "Likely combined with the fact that she's the sole interesting person there and that child defines a person's value by how much that person can entertain them."
"And to think," Rhaena says. "The whole time this pretender has wanted to be you, whilst the gods saw fit to bestow your core traits unto his wastrel brother."
"You're right!" he actually says. "I am the walking embodiment of motherless behaviour. Well, at least I knew my mother loved me and she wasn't just some green bitch with no concern for me, but regardless. This child goes beyond motherless behaviour. What we have here is a case of parentless behaviour."
"I'm inclined to agree," says Ser Erryk.
"See if you can use that," her father suggests. Because of course, he does. "Oh! Also, the pretender is traumatized. Likely from guilt, yes…"
They shift into a silence of a different kind.
Her father waits a while to break it. "But also… they had to addle him when he returned. I think Baela's 'ambush' did damage. I think you can keep him out of the field for some time."
Rhaena hopes for more than that. "Hopefully we can keep everyone out of the field until you return," she says. "I suppose we have a Baela if we get desperate. If we ever find out where she is."
"King-breaker or no," says Ser Lorent. "I do not like the idea of the Princess flying about the realm unaccompanied. Especially while the Hightowers call her the heir to Driftmark."
"She's not the heir to Driftmark," her father says.
"We know," her grandmother says. "Though… that is now a complicated question. Even without Laenor."
Her father disagrees. "Let us be honest, Laenor is not having children. You still require another heir to succeed him. And Her Grace has already issued a royal decree."
"And when was this decree issued?" her grandmother asks.
"At the meeting." Her father is solemn again. "Rhaenyra's first set of orders. That Luke and Rhaena should be wed immediately." He refuses to look at anyone, and they all fall silent yet again.
But her father was not finished. "And… she gave another order as well." And then he looks to Rhaena. "Rhaena Targaryen, you are officially Luke's heir. Heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lady of the Tides."
"I… what?"
"I suppose this is Rhaenyra's way of protecting you both whilst appeasing this one," he points derisively to her grandmother. "But… I think Tyland Lannister is after your hand. Rhaenyra broke his nose." He beams with pride yet again.
"Well," says her grandsire. "Far be it from me to disobey our Queen's first royal decree. But come the day she takes my seat, she will bear the name Velaryon."
Rhaena redirects. "I think we have… a lot to sort out in regards to names." Because she knows Rhaenyra did this thinking Luke was alive. Because she now knows the truth that no one speaks.
Women are not heirs; they are keys.
And then she does look to her father, and sees he does not look to her with pride, or happiness, or reassurance. He looks to her with concern.
She nods.
Her father stands. "I think it's time. Ready the dragons. Rhaena and I have one important lesson to cover before I leave." He grabs a torch and a glass candle case, and gestures for her to follow him down the beach.
She waits until they're out of earshot. "So, be honest. How was it really?"
"Rhaena, you are my daughter, not my keeper. This isn't your job."
"Are you saying this family finally has… boundaries?"
"A few, perhaps."
"You're going to have a harder sell with Baela the Boundariless."
He laughs for but a moment, then it falls away.
"She'll come back eventually," Rhaena assures him. "If I've learned anything from stories about our family, it's that no one tends to hold you to account for long."
"Baela is no Viserys. Nor is Rhaenyra, for that matter. I honestly think she might kill me once she's free. Or at least lock me away for a while."
As she probably should, Rhaena thinks. But then she does think about the day when Rhaenyra is free, and about how far away that day could be. If Daemon Targaryen wants his daughter to act like a daughter, she'll start now. With a hard question. "Father." She hesitates. "If… it doesn't work. Or, if she runs out and this ends up taking a long time…"
He knows what she refers to. He does not speak. But he does not stop her either. He just continues to lead her down the beach.
"What will you do?" she finally asks.
"That would be up to Rhaenyra and the Maester," her father says. "I suppose it depends how far along—"
"No. I mean, if she bears a child. Will you… throw it into the sea?"
He stops to look at her. "Who do you think I am? Rhaenys?"
Harsh, but fair.
He shakes his head and resumes their walk. "I don't know. But, I'm not your grandmother. Besides, for a while I even suspected Jacaerys might be Cole's, and I never—"
"Father."
"Because he's irritating, not because of that."
"Father. You still need to apologize."
He groans. "I'll handle it." Then he comes to a stop. "Here we are."
She looks around. It looks like any other part of the beach. "Where?"
He smiles and points to the sand. "Your brother was conceived right here."
"Ugh. So much for boundaries."
He shifts back to serious. "No, Rhaena, this is important. Because this is also where Rhaenyra and I were visiting the day you tried to…"
They both look away.
He doesn't look back to her as he speaks, but it's better than nothing. "I probably should have been paying better attention to you. Especially the night of your mother's funeral."
"Not going to argue with you there. Our first theory when you remarried so fast, was that you panicked at the thought of having to parent us and wanted to push us off onto Rhaenyra." Which… is what he did. With Rhaena, at the least.
"The thought did cross my mind," he admits. "Rhaenyra is much more skilled at… being supportive."
"Speaking of being supportive, I take it you performed."
"It was sufficient. I still think your training was excessive for just those few minutes."
"Father…" she treads. "It wasn't only for those few minutes. If we win this, you're going to have to maintain that support. Rhaenyra is still going to need it. You are going to have a lot more of those few minutes ahead of you. You do realize that, right?"
He looks to the sea. "It is fortunate that Laenor is returning with me then. We can… trade shifts."
Rhaena sighs.
"I jest, Rhaena."
"I know. Because I know why you insisted on such a risky way to deliver our message. And… I promise not to tell anyone."
He turns to her. "Tell anyone what?"
She smiles. "That you pushed for this plan because you wanted to hug your wife, apologize, and tell her to be strong."
"Much appreciated. I have a reputation to uphold, after all."
"Especially right now," Rhaena agrees.
"Still," her father ponders to the stars. "I never could have achieved this degree of chaos on my own. I think it's time to embrace some new interests. Teamwork. Honest communication. Talking to people rationally. Mayhaps… resolving my contentious relationship with sheep."
"Free will is an illusion," Rhaena realizes aloud.
"What?"
"Never mind. Are we going to do this before dawn?"
He nods and gestures for her to sit on the sand. She asks three times to ensure she does not sit on the exact spot of Aegon's conception before she joins him.
He removes the candle, but he does not look at it. He looks at her. "Rhaenyra might not have the option, but you do. You will use this outdoors, or in the study, but never in your bedroom. This candle does not even enter your bedroom. You will keep it locked away in the study when it's not in use. And once you have mastered your first skill, you will train someone else so you will not be the sole user."
"Should I be taking notes?"
"No. I've laid out everything you'll need in the study. Someone should always know when you are using it, and come to check on you. The Sea Snake knows how to light it, and he knows the signs to look for. He promised to keep an eye on you."
"Why are you so serious about this?"
"There's a saying from the North: Sorcery is a sword without a hilt. There is no truly safe way to grasp it, Rhaena."
"And dragons are so safe?"
"Our words are fire and blood, Rhaena. Dragons are fire made flesh. They are still of flesh. In this world that we live in. They can… be grasped. This," he gestures to the candle, "channels that which is beyond our reach, beyond our touch. It is far more dangerous than dragons. That's why it has to be you."
"Why?"
"Because you're the smart one," he narrows his eyes, "although possibly the Evil One. You also have the right temperament. It's the reason I wanted you to have Vhagar. You were the only one with enough control, and enough humility, to not do something stupid. Mayhaps Rhaenyra or Rhaenys could have, I suppose, but they were spoken for. But a Hightower? This was always going to end in disaster."
"Aegon or Viserys?"
"Rhaena, we have been given a dragon's eye view to this world. So I know enough to know how this world shapes us. Few men raised in this world would have the temperament and humility for Vhagar. Especially not one raised by me."
"Grandsire Bae—"
"Came home a crying mess. He could barely remember what he had done. And he was never at odds with other dragonriders. He never had to use Vhagar… diplomatically. Or in a war with his own people. The optics between foreigners and revolting subjects… it is different."
She holds back a scoff. "You care about optics?"
He shrugs. "Not particularly." His eyes go dark. "But now Vhagar has the stain from Luke's death on her. Not a tactical attack, an emotional one. She's… tainted. She needs to die."
"I know."
"Caraxes, Seasmoke and Vermax should suffice."
"Or you could just let Baela loose."
He shakes his head. "She stole my dream kill."
"Father."
He hands her the same pouch she'd given him before the funeral. "Here. Rhaenyra has one, I have one, and you have the other three."
"Why?'
"First, because we long ago agreed to use the necklace as an… anchor. A signal that it was no normal dream. It should help you find her. But also, these burned in the pyre of a dragon princess. I don't know much about blood magic, but I know enough to know that these are likely steeped in it. It might help you with the candle, but you'll need to do more research."
"You said no blood magic."
"For Joffrey. But you… you're the smart one. And possibly evil."
Not again. "Father, it was one time, and you were acting insane."
He still eyes her suspiciously.
She sighs. "If Baela had 'poisoned' you, would you be calling her evil?"
"No. Because she would have done it as a prank. But you…" he eyes her suspiciously even more. Then he lets it go. "Still, I think you will fare well. Better than I did. Once I head down a path, I tend to follow it to the end. Not the best person to be taking part in a magic that, in the end, destroyed a civilization."
"That was surprisingly self-aware, Father. Good for you."
"Actually, it was the Sea Snake who yelled it at me. More than once. And again, I never trusted magic that lurks beyond what we can touch. That goes for the faith as well."
She eyes the obsidian pillar they'd still yet to use. "Can we get to the part where I learn how to use it?"
"No, the ability to… transfer that skill is lost to us. You're on your own. And trust me, you do not want to learn the way I learned, because there's no way of learning further. You need to learn the right way. But first, you need to figure out what that is."
"What do you mean?"
"We were on… so many substances. I don't even know which one it was. But something clicked. Though we could never push it further than that. Nor should I. Let us be honest, no one wants me fucking around with glass candles."
"Wait, so why are we here, if what I need is in the study?"
"For caution, Rhaena. Listen. My brother… he loved to blame dragons for the destruction of Valyria. Dragons built Valyria. But dragons did not destroy it. Sorcerers did. Sorcerers who harnessed magic beyond what they could touch, and eventually, beyond what they could control."
She nods. "The Fourteen Fires."
"Not just volcanoes. Dreams, Rhaena. And opening yourself up to this," he gestures to the candle, "opens you to everything else. The dragon-saddle is one thing, but true sorcery is more volatile than the wildest of dragons. You must tread lightly, especially with dreams,"
"Are you a dreamer, Father?"
"Anyone can be a dreamer. The problem is that not everyone should. Like my brother, for example."
"Do you believe it?" Rhaena asks. The information had eventually come out when they'd been designing all the alternate messages.
He only look to the candle. "It's important to Rhaenyra; that's what matters."
"Father."
"It's not that I disbelieve prophecy. I simply distrust it."
"Why?" she insists.
He actually looks at her. "Do you know who the Targaryens were, before we were the sole dragonlords?"
"I… no." She'd never thought about it. But she should have. The Targaryens were merely a minor house among forty powerful families. Surely their identity went beyond fire and blood. "Who were we?"
"The eccentrics. Obviously. A family full of eccentrics."
"And… dreamers?"
"Rhaena, Aenar the Exile was just that — an exile. I'm not saying that Daenys did not foresee the Doom, but… he had other reasons for leaving. There is so much magic, so much… information beyond our grasp, that we see only what we want to see. The idea that… dreams and prophecy simply form themselves without our help, it's an illusion. And if you let that illusion guide you, if you let that light your way, you are no better than a Hightower."
"We all like to feel safe, I suppose," Rhaena says.
Her father nods. "We have dragons, men have lies."
"See? Wasn't that easier? Does it not feel better to communicate rationally and openly instead of exploding?"
He pouts. "No, It was very difficult, and vulnerable. I don't like it."
"Well, I'm still proud of you." She actually is.
He glares, and then he throws sand in her face. Because of course he does.
"My eyes!"
"Well, fortunately, I've been desensitized to crying women for the day. I only wanted you to see the fruits of your labour. Or rather, my labour. Your revenge fantasy."
"I cannot see anything!"
"Let this be a lesson about falling complacent around volatile forces. That glass candle is no more stable than I am. I expect you to actively track your dreams, by the way. So you know if you're descending into madness."
She stops rolling around in the sand and moves on from clutching her leaking eyes to rubbing them. "You are not honestly trying to lecture me about responsibility right now."
"I have layers, Evil One."
"All set?" she asks when they return. Her grandsire had been tying a new, temporary saddle for Stormcloud, though Aegon would be riding with their father, and her grandmother had been securing supplies to Caraxes. They'd prepared Seasmoke before her father even arrived, but it was too risky to let him carry all the supplies whilst riderless, lest he wander off for a day or so.
"All set," her grandsire says. "These should hold until you can have a proper one made."
Rhaena studies the saddle. It is still made of ropes and nets, but looks much less haphazard than the one Baela designed.
"But what did I say?" her father prompts Aegon.
"No flying outdoors in the daytime."
"Correct. You are keeping a low profile. And no flying over water yet. Not until Stormcloud is stronger."
Her father looks between his passengers. "Alright, with the supplies, we're a full dragon until Pentos, so both children are going to have to go on your laps."
"But Muña says no double-buckling," Aegon reminds him.
Her father just shakes his head. "I hate my life for so many reasons right now."
"I don't," says Ser Erryk, gazing ponderously into the distance. "Life is incredible. Last fortnight I was serving a rapist; now, I'm flying to a world unknown atop the bloodwyrm. Journeying with one king, to retrieve another. Life is certainly full of mystery and surprises. Where will we go? Who will we meet? What obstacles might we encounter along our way?"
"I will throw you into the Jade Sea."
"No, you will not," Ser Erryk is bold enough to say. It's a good sign. "My job is to keep you out of trouble. Throwing a Queensguard off a dragon, I think that constitutes trouble."
She hands Ser Erryk his daemon-keeping log. "This is one-of-a-kind," she warns her father. "So don't think about throwing his out after you pull something and trying to discreetly replace it. And it will be very obvious if any pages are torn out of this book. I expect an entry for each day, with nothing blacked out."
"I can see it now," her grandsire says. "The same entry every day. 'Dear Diary, today, Daemon was very cranky, killed some people, and refused to go to bed.'"
"No," Rhaena says. "Make the entries out to Rhaenyra. That might keep him in line."
Her father throws his hands up. "What exactly do you expect me to do."
"I don't know," her grandmother says. "No one ever knows. That is the problem."
"I'm more worried about what you'll do when you return with my son," her grandsire says. "You two are a bad influence on each other."
"Worry?" her father says. "Why worry? Think of the potential! Flying brother-husband dragon-kings. We won't just rain fire. We will rain confusion, chaos, mayhem. It's going to be beautiful."
Rhaena has other ideas. "It's going to be... something."
He does spare a goodbye for Joffrey once everyone else is loaded. "What are the rules?"
"No hot crafts without supervision."
"And?"
"No dragon fights."
"And?"
"No blood magic."
"And?"
"No murder until you come back and teach me."
"And?"
"Rhaena is in charge."
"Very good." He turns to the rest. "See? Responsible parenting. Rhaena, do not leave the castle… once you return to the castle, that is. You understand."
She does, unfortunately.
He coaxes Stormcloud onto Caraxes' tail, climbs onto the full dragon, and signals Seasmoke to pay attention. "Well, I would spare you all a touching goodbye," he calls. "But I just gave Rhaena such a great goodbye speech, she's still crying. Look at her!"
Rhaena crosses her arms but does not verbally call him out. She has a while to plot her revenge.
Mayhaps I am the evil one. Or does my father simply bring that out in people?
Her grandsire sighs as they watch them fly away. "Daemon alone would at least burn the realm to the ground on purpose. Daemon and Laenor… they'll burn the realm to the ground on accident."
No one argues.
ALICENT
Alicent does not think much of how Rhaenyra poisoned her the night before, because then she would have to think about everything she witnessed upon the pyre. Instead, she throws herself into any work she can find. Like approving Rhaenyra's luggage. She has only the one dress remaining, after all.
The council devised a list of what to check for. The most time-consuming part is feeling the seams of the clothing for any message that might be sewn and hidden within. She ends up conscripting her sons. Aegon, to keep him out of trouble, and Aemond, to keep him out of bed.
Rhaenyra is still asleep late into the afternoon, and the Grandmaester informs her that she has likely taken ill.
"Honestly, she must have some underlying health problem," Alicent says as they inspect the trunk. At least it might be ready for Rhaenyra when she awakens. "It was the same substance, and I awoke after only a few hours. I feel no ill effects."
"Umm…" Aegon says. "I'm quite certain it has less to do with the venom, and more to do with the cold."
"We were in the same place."
"Umm…"
"What?" Aemond asks.
"Well, I don't know what happened after I flew off, though I have a suspicion. But even before that…" he turns to Alicent. "You owe me a blanket, Rhaenyra a shawl, and Prince Daemon a coat."
"Aegon."
"Well, Grandsire went inside right away because Prince Daemon hit him with his seal as he left — this is truly the best week of my life, by the way — so Cole and Tyland were left in charge of Rhaenyra. She was… covered in fuel. And I recall hearing a suggestion that they throw her in the ocean before bringing her near the torches."
"What?" she and Aemond both exclaim.
"Yah…" He grits his teeth. "They sent me away once Cole returned with the key, but I would not be surprised. Especially if she's sick now. I do not think Cole likes her very much. Also, Prince Daemon made this hilariou—"
Aemond shakes his head. "I'll talk to him," he resolves. "I will not have her needlessly suffer. It's not right."
"No," Alicent says. "I'll handle it. I know their history."
"History?" Aegon asks.
"Aegon," she redirects, "seams."
"I have no idea what I'm looking for," Aegon admits. "This is hard. I quit." Aemond has also given up. At the least he has the excuse of a broken hand.
Alicent sighs. She picks up a bundle marked fragile and hands it to Aegon. "Take this; go through that list."
She appraises her other son, who for the past few days has oscillated between a melancholic refusal to engage with his surroundings, and what she suspects the Grandmaester would be quick to label mania should Rhaenyra engage in the behaviour. Right now he settles for staring blankly into the air.
"What in the Seven Hells?" Aegon exclaims. He holds up what Alicent presumes is the well-worn reading light young Aegon had mentioned. "Why would they send this?"
"I know why," Aemond mumbles. He inclines his head to the bottom of the pillar which faces him, and then he turns away to stare at nothing. Aegon flips it around.
Happy name day!
— Baela, Rhaena, Jace, Luke
He sets it down as soon as he reads the last name.
"It's fine," Alicent says. "It's just a children's craft, an old one at that. Add it to the approved table; there's nowhere to hide anything."
Aegon does. Then he returns and picks up the bundle that rested next to it. "This family is so strange," he says as he unwraps the cloth.
"What?" She asks hesitantly, prepared for another guilt trip.
Aegon removes the last of the cloth that covers the package.
"Why!" Alicent exclaims.
That fucking cactus.
RHAENA
They no longer have a rider with a dragon large enough for passengers. Fortunately, the trip by sea lasts only a few hours.
They stayed the night at High Tide, and Rhaena spends the morning assisting her grandparents with the evacuation. She departs before them with the Queensguard so she might greet Lord Beesbury and confer with Gerardys and the remaining ladies-in-waiting. This is the last day to get their stories straight. This is the last day they will let speculation spread.
This is our last day of somewhat uncomplicated interactions, she realizes.
Tomorrow, her grandparents will call a council to announce her father's departure. Tomorrow, they officially announce their terms with the Hightowers. Tomorrow, every interaction will have to take place with caution, acknowledging their story whilst not condemning him to the point that he will have difficulty resuming his position upon his return. Tomorrow, the war of words and ravens begins in full — and will hopefully remain as such until her father returns to start an actual war.
She is no longer so naive as to believe Laenor's survival will rally the realm to their cause. But his dragon hopefully will.
In her absence, Gerardys received a raven from Cregan Stark. Offering condolences for their loss, and pledging his support. Finally, someone sees the situation for how fucked up it is. "He says that the Prince will return shortly, but the Princess needs to remain abed. Jacaerys managed to have her seek treatment and her injuries are, while not severe, numerous and extensive."
"I would think so," Rhaena says. "And I imagine poor Moondancer is in need of quite the rest as well."
"Yes." And then Gerardys smiles. "Lord Stark also writes that 'the little dragon has made herself a lair and terrorizes any who dare disturb her slumber. Additionally, Moondancer is settling in quite nicely.'"
Of course. But also, poor Jace. Not only is he grieving, but her father was right, he is going to be so confused. But they cannot exactly update him by raven.
She dines with Joffrey and Lord Beesbury, who later excuses himself to oversee the compilation of his linear report. Rhaena hopes they will at least have the advantage in this regard. If the pretender was so manic he needed to be subdued, their version of events will likely have more veracity.
"Might I have one of the rubies?" Joffrey requests.
"Why?"
"As the Master-of-Arts-and-Crafts, I have decided you should wear one as a necklace, so you do not lose it."
"Decree noted, but I will bring it to the jeweller myself. This is a bit above your skill set."
Joffrey huffs but does not push. He soon takes his leave to recruit replacement associates amongst the children of the visitors.
I don't like where this is going.
But she lets it go. The poor boy is grieving and was not only left out of actual war council affairs, but also left behind. He's clearly fixating to protect himself from grief and panic. Rhaena can relate. Mayhaps it is a family trait. More likely though, it is a human trait.
She does not attempt the glass candle tonight. She promised her father she would wait until her grandparents could supervise the first few tries. Instead, she decides on an early night to prepare for her early morning. She is still unaccustomed to how cluttered her room now is, and wonders if she should mayhaps have some of the eggs returned to save space. But now she cannot help but be a little charmed by how excessive her father can be, and she decides to leave the evidence.
Besides, she just put a lot of effort into organizing them.
She readies herself for sleep and flops onto her bed, then decides she really should think about a necklace for the morrow. She selects the largest of the rubies but finds that it still has flecks of gold adhered to the surface. She manages to scratch some off with her nails, but stubborn patches still remain.
She opens the small brazier that now stands by the chest next to her bed. There is still space around the pink egg she selected, and the grate is small enough that the ruby should not fall through to the actual fire.
Mayhaps the heat will soften those last traces.
She sets the ruby next to her egg and retires for the night. I suppose this is the last night when I need not record my dreams.
Rhaena wakes with the sunrise, but it is not the light that wakes her. Someone has woken her.
She stretches but does not sit up, and sweeps the room for whichever servant had just roused her. No one stands in her line of sight, however.
I think I've earned a few more hours of rest. She rolls over on to her side to catch the last bit of sleep she can manage.
And then someone rustles her hair.
"Ah!" She jumps up and does another sweep of the room. But the perpetrator is not to be found.
Until the perpetrator hops onto her lap. She jumps once again, but the baby dragon is not startled away. No, the baby dragon settles back into her blankets, into the divot it had clearly made whilst she slept. She whips her head around to check the small brazier. The lid is on the floor, and the glint of the ruby is now visible with the dragon egg missing.
Missing.
She turns back to her tiny pink companion, who perks its head up with interest at her attention.
"Good morning."
Author's Notes
That's it for Part 2: Black Queen! This is the last of the pre-written chapters I have. From now on I'll be posting new chapters on both and Ao3. Weekly updates will resume in June for Part 3: Storm Queen!