RHAENYRA

"Helaena?" some baby sea monster chokes out. "What in the Seven H— what are you wearing?"

The sisters had been in the center of the apartment whilst Rhaenyra pinned the dress into place and explained the basic alterations and pressing she wanted done, and on a whim, she'd stepped behind two of the taller gargoyles when her brothers entered. And so they'd seen Helaena, facing away from them, when they entered.

And oh, did they see her. They ogled her for a not-so-brief moment before Helaena had looked to them, and their shared lust turned to shared shock before their reactions branched out.

Aemond now gives her an indulgent smile, Aegon stares dumbfounded, and some baby sea monster sets down two cat carriers as he regards her with horror.

Aemond kicks some baby sea monster before correcting him. "What he meant to say was, for a moment we did not recognize you, Helaena. For we thought we'd walked into the domain of a Valyrian goddess."

Aegon nods and sets down the bag of illicit materials. "Yah…" he says through his still gaping mouth. He does not close it when he's finished.

Rhaenyra does not know if that attention is good or bad, so she turns to Helaena to gauge her feelings. Her pleasure at their reactions seems genuine enough, so Rhaenyra decides to leave it be. She steps into view and smiles at her brothers. "We thought it might be fun if we matched."

Some baby sea monster puffs up. "She's dressed like a Lysene whore! Are you truly so desperate that you now want to bring Helaena down to your level?"

If Rhaenyra is going to play the good hostess, and good wife, she'd do well to serve her brothers, and husband, a meal. Aegon clearly just wants the meal, but Aemond… Aemond strikes her as the type to delight at someone else being the meal. Because there's no better way to make an insecure fool feel included than by excluding someone else.

So Rhaenyra blinks. "I'm sorry. Who are you?"

Aemond and Aegon laugh. Rhaenyra taps Helaena's hand so that she turns to her, and she shakes her head to hopefully signal that no, she should not explain to Rhaenyra who this is. And it works.

It works even better than intended. Helaena just stands there in thought as their brothers laugh at some baby sea monster. Until they quiet enough to give her space to speak. "Wait," she says, with an innocence Rhaenyra cannot tell is sincere or feigned. "How would you know what a… working woman looks like. I overheard Lord Ormund assure Mother that you were still a virgin."

Rhaenyra joins her brothers in a new round of laughs. She then recovers enough to speak. "Wait, where are you from, virgin?"

"Oldtown," Aegon says before the virgin can argue.

"Oh… that explains it. You're a virgin because you're from Oldtown. And everyone from Oldtown is either a Septon or a Maester."

"What?" says the virgin.

"Well, if everyone who looks 'Lysene' is a whore, then everyone from Oldtown is a virgin, right?"

The virgin rolls his eyes. Then he turns to Aemond. "Are you truly going to allow her out in public like that?"

"Like what?" Aemond asks. "She's embracing our culture."

Helaena beams. "It's not just the dress. Rhaenyra said she'll teach me High Valyrian! After your walks in the mornings."

Aemond actually smiles in approval. He turns to the virgin. "See? Stop trying to discourage her from trying anything new. She's a dragon too." For a moment Rhaenyra is impressed, until he continues. "And is it not expected that she look beautiful for the realm? Is not that half the job of a Princess?"

"And a wife," Aegon adds.

Rhaenyra is suddenly less fond of her captor brothers. She looks to Helaena, who seems equally unimpressed, before adding her own thoughts. "Or mayhaps for herself?"

Men.

Helaena finds a different way to voice the same sentiment. "It's comfortable. And Rhaenyra says that if people are busy looking at your body, instead of your eyes, you don't have to pretend to pay attention to them or make eye-contact or worry about every possible interpretation of each of your expressions as much."

"See," Aegon says. "Comfort and efficiency!" Before the virgin can respond, Aegon raises a finger and steps toward him. "I've had a very disappointing morning, virgin. Do. Not. Ruin. This."

Rhaenyra appraises Helaena's dress, then turns to the gargoyles. All of them, as she'd requested. Seven gargoyles in total. She should have expected nothing less from such pious captors. Most look Rhaenyra's age or slightly older. They all pin their hair back under the same grey-blue cap and wear the same grey-blue ensembles which, while well-made, are plainer that the other ladies-maids of the keep.

Non-descript. These women are dressed to be nondescript.

A few she can differentiate. The young one. The reserved one who noticed the shark, and she sees now, also brought her the candy. Mayhaps she can be the 'quietly observant' one? But they're all quiet and observant, is the problem. She still has trouble distinguishing between the others, aside from the mean one — the one who jump-scared her when she spied on Aegon and the Green Viper, and pulled her from the bed the other day. She looks at least ten years older than Rhaenyra. Or mayhaps she was just poor.

"I think we're done here," Rhaenyra says to them all. "Just use all the same markings for mine as well. We have similar measurements."

Aegon is now looking at both his sisters. "You do…"

In fact, they have very similar bodies. And Rhaenyra quite likes the idea of the Old Viper and the Green Viper sneering when they think it's Rhaenyra walking in, only to later see that it's Helaena. And if any of the sea monsters are hungry, Helaena has two arms and the status of a person, rather than a prisoner, for protection. Hopefully, the low odds of anything happening will also protect Rhaenyra from the Seven Hells.

At first, Rhaenyra is shocked that Helaena starts to strip into only her underdress in present company. But then she realizes that, to Helaena, present company means her siblings and husband. Of course, in theory it means the same to Rhaenyra, but in practice, Helaena's relationships lack the threat of returning chains.

But for now, a more domestic problem awaits her. One Helaena cannot know about. "You're early," she says to Aemond in Valyrian. "The food is still in the kitchens. Can you tell the maids to bring it, and then dismiss them after? I hardly think they'll take that last order from me."

He does as she requests. But someone else takes exception as they watch the gargoyles leave. At least he's smart enough to do so in poor Valyrian. "You actually let her give orders through you?" the virgin asks. "Why are we playing pretend with the prisoner? There are no reticent lords here."

"Go away, virgin," Rhaenyra says. "Come back when you've learned real High Valyrian." He suffers from the same problem as Aemond, and the opposite of Jace. Whilst they'd both clearly put more time into a formal education into Valyrian, and had a broader vocabulary and more sophisticated construction than Jace's… childlike Valyrian, they sounded nowhere near as natural.

"I don't need to listen to you," says the virgin.

"Why—" Helaena starts.

Rhaenyra answers before she can finish. "He thinks he doesn't need to listen to me because I am unwell and the Maesters say my mind is… not right, from all the stress I've suffered. And because he thinks I've lain with more men than I should have. So he believes all that means I don't deserve respect."

"Oh," Helaena says. Then her voice turns sharp. "Go away, virgin."

He doesn't, even as they all laugh, so Rhaenyra looks to Aegon. "Valonqar."

Aegon clamps a hand on the virgin's shoulder and pulls him towards the door. Aemond seems more than a little annoyed that Rhaenyra did not ask him, so she raises her free hand and wriggles her fingers as a reminder.

The virgin does not struggle, but he does protest. "There's nothing wrong with saving oneself for marriage. I just hope Lady Cassandra has more respect for herself than you do!"

What?

Fuck.

For a moment, Aemond and Rhaenyra both drop the facade. Because Rhaenyra was clearly not supposed to know that. And now Rhaenyra most definitely needs to execute Lord Borros. That's two heads of Great Houses that are soon to lose their… heads.

Rhaenyra puts the facade back on. "I doubt that anyone who would marry you would have much respect for themselves."

This time they add pointing to their taunts. Until the door closes behind him and Aegon resolves to create a sign.

"How is it feeling?" Rhaenyra asks Helaena. At Rhaenyra's urging, she had shyly, but eagerly, investigated Rhaenyra's own wardrobe and borrowed one of her more comfortable Essosian gowns that were essentially a long tunic made of a slightly sheer rectangle of cloth folded over the body and belted at the waist. Notably, of the three Rhaenyra favoured, Daemon had not included the one that she wore unbelted at the waist, and she hopes the Green Viper did not pick up on that particular message — and the assurance that she would not need a dress that's worn loose at the waist.

Helaena twirls the gown. "It's comfortable. I might have one made. I like clothes that move with me, rather than against me. Which are difficult to find after…" She looks around shyly, mayhaps even slyly, then thrusts out her chest.

"You got the Targaryen motherhood chest. Happens to many of us. I find the Eastern styles tend to be more… accommodating." Aemond, to his credit, makes no comment.

Aegon then returns from posting his sign, mercifully having missed that exchange. "So I have some bad news, Mandia. They didn't go for it."

"Go for—" She looks to Aemond. "He didn't."

"He did," he says as he releases two curious cats and then flips the carrier so Pancake's batter oozes out. "Tell her about the slide."

"Hey," Aegon says. "There's no reason why we cannot still do that part." And then he tries to look reassuring. "Worry not, Mandia. I'll mix you something good. You'll be out for the full thirty seconds, easily."

Rhaenyra decides to avoid eye contact with Aemond, who is suddenly very interested in following his cat's investigation of the suite. Helaena does not even ask about what they speak of.

Aegon looks around the room as he waits for a response, and shifts his attention when he realizes none will come. He'd been standing next to the model, and the nest of eggs atop it then catch his attention. He grabs it for closer examination. "Oh no, didn't you hear little Aegon, Mandia? The Sea Snake said that Caraxes isn't allowed next to his shell. Oh, and he probably shouldn't go next to Meleys, either. And definitely not by Seasmoke." He then proceeds to arrange and rearrange and rearrange the eggs. "Wait," he says to Rhaenyra. "Do you prefer by bloodline, or current location?"

"Surprise me."

He considers a moment. "Bloodlines are probably best. I don't know how to symbolically locate the dead."

Aemond freezes. Mayhaps the shark attack closed the topic for a time. Or Sunfyre did.

"Aegon," Helaena chides. "Mother said no talking about Ser Laenor unless Rhaenyra mentions him first." She claps a hand over her mouth. "Oops. Sorry."

Rhaenyra gives her a reassuring but sad smile. "It's fine, Helaena."

Aegon has other concerns. "I suppose there's no option for a Sunfyre egg if Prince Daemon already banned Vhagar. What do you think, baby brother?"

Aemond recovers and turns to them. "I think too many 'grown' men have spent too much time debating the arrangement of childrens' eggs."

"But they're symbolic eggs. Oh." He holds up the egg Rhaenyra had since that night confirmed to be pink. "Who does this symbolize again?"

Helaena had been passively observing, but she jolts when she sees the egg. "I thought it cracked."

"What?" say Aemond, Aegon, and Rhaenyra.

Helaena slightly twists from side to side, the way she's done since she was a child, as she thinks and then answers. "The morning Lady Fell was here."

When stone cracked into morning. A pink morning sky.

Aegon is suddenly not so interested in their conversation. "Those were stones Helaena." He pouts. "I still cannot believe I missed it." He picks up the bag of illicit material and points to the seating area. "Fireplace or corner?"

"Corner, obviously," Rhaenyra says. She puts the prior part away for later. "I trust that you inspected it first? It's been in storage awhile." Daemon had long since had to give it up. Rhaenyra had mostly given it up in solidarity.

Aegon answers from the cushions. "I had the silver polished and leather on the hoses replaced. Good as new."

Helaena and Aemond had returned to watching the cats peruse the crates. Pancake now oozes atop the tallest one, watching Purrmithor and—

"What's her name?" Rhaenyra asks of the too-pretty Lengese cat.

"Brightroar!" Aegon cheers from the corner.

"No, it's not!" Aemond snaps.

"I think it's a cute name," Helaena says.

"Me too," says Rhaenyra. "What's wrong with it?"

Aegon laughs. "The Council agreed it's a great name!"

Aemond shakes like he might explode if Rhaenyra were not there. Which likely means she should not know of what Aegon jests, and Aemond seethes about. But then the maids enter, and a new crisis concerns him. "Aegon," Aemond hisses across the room in Valyrian. "Put that away before someone sees!"

"What does it matter?" Rhaenyra asks. "They can tell no tales."

He shakes his head and gives her a dark smile. "We both know that isn't true."

She did, but it's nice to know for sure that she isn't wasting her time or effort in suspecting. And now she also knows that Aemond knows she isn't stupid. Both of which she pretty much knew already.

Helaena follows the gargoyles over to Aegon, who had not bothered to put it away. Aemond surveys the trays that pass them. The trays that hold a classic Valyrian-Volantine spread of grambean fritters, fruits, cold salads meant to stuff fresh pocket breads, flatbreads glazed with olive oil and grambean dip and garnished with savorleaf, and other assorted cold snacks. "I didn't know the Holdfast staff knew how to make all this," he says.

"They don't," Rhaenyra says. They still stand awkwardly in the middle of the room. Neither makes a move to do anything else. "Though they should. Grambean grows easily and enlivens our soils, but we need create more demand. And I had to send for help from the Kitchen Keep. You know there's but one cook in the whole castle who knows how to roll vine leaves?"

"I can have them transfer for training. And… now that Mother's moved, I suppose she'll dedicate more time to managing the Tower. Perhaps you might take over managing the kitchens for the Holdfast." His tone tells her it's not a favour to her, or even a request, but a reminder of her place.

Overseeing the housekeeping, curating luxuries, decorating, entertaining, and now meal planning? All the wifely tasks she'd delegated to Daemon have been thrust back upon her.

She smiles and tells him in polite words that she'd be delighted to assume her womanly duties regarding the kitchens.

Once the gargoyles depart, Rhaenyra discovers why Aemond had lingered when he goes so far as to single-handedly, and single-handedly, push crates against the door. Rhaenyra lingers with him. "Why are you so worried about being discovered for a simple illicit indulgence? You are the King, are you not? It's not like you can get in trouble."

"If you thought that was true, you wouldn't have given me that key," he says like he thinks he's caught her at something.

Oh no!

So she looks away and lets him think the key was solely for him. Or lets him stare at her chest. Be it from lust or overconfidence, he'll hopefully be all the stupider for it.

"Rhaenyra," Helaena calls from the corner. "We just had an idea. Since you're not getting a cat, do you think I could give the lizards their 'outdoor' time in your greenspace?"

"Yah!" Aegon says. "And we can put them on the model and pretend that they're tiny dragons!"

"Rhaenyra cannot be around the children right now," Helaena reminds him.

"Right," Aegon says. "For the children. Oh hey, we could have them make more of those little eggs for the model, and create a true Valyrian lizard-city. And we can circumvent the nest ban by putting them everywhere. Wait, what do we need to make them, again?"

Rhaenyra decides she might as well test the waters in all directions. "Aegon," she says. "I don't mean to be rude, but I think this is a sign that you need to find more productive and rewarding ways to spend your time. And I don't think Aemond had any interest in dragon eggs."

Aemond puts the finishing touch on his barricade. "Why would you think that?"

"Oh," she says too casually as she studies the crates. "I just assumed so when your mother never accepted any of Syrax's eggs."

Tendrils of ice fall upon her good shoulder, freezing her skin and threatening to reach into her blood and chill her bones. "Rhaenyra," chimes the ice in an amused yet firm tone.

And when she turns to him, that patronizing smile tells her she overstepped even before he continues in Valyrian. "You are both my sister and my wife-by-law. And I promise I will do my best to show you the respect afforded to those positions. But I am not Aegon. You cannot talk me into forgetting that you're also a prisoner. A dangerous prisoner. So I suggest you not waste your time or effort trying to turn me against my mother. It will do none of us any benefit."

His confidence grows as she stiffens, for he must think it's his words that chilled her and not the unexpected touch he's since withdrawn.

But then Rhaenyra does remain still as she considers those words. To Aemond's credit, though his Valyrian is overly formal and Andal, he knows enough that if he means to speak in Valyrian, he tries to first form that thought in Valyrian. In fact, from what she'd noticed on their walks, she suspects that he enjoys the chance to practice thinking in Valyrian. Usually. But this little speech… has the trappings of something constructed in Common, mayhaps something fed to him in Common, that he's accurately but unnaturally translated into Valyrian.

Honestly, you'd think after two decades of complaining about being spoken around, the Green Viper might have bothered to learn Valyrian. Or mayhaps all snakes are simply determined to bite their own tails.

He takes one step closer before he claims his victory — in his own words this time. "I didn't want an egg. I was a dragon who wanted a dragon. And a dragon takes what it wants."

He certainly takes what he wants. sneakily and opportunistically. When his mother doesn't hand it to him, that is.

But she says none of that. Instead, she lets him watch his words settle. She thinks of Dragonstone and the fires that breathe life to it. Of how her home and family are, are their heart, at her heart, living fire. She banishes the ice, and what does not melt turns brittle and cracks and falls. But she dare not let that fire show on the surface. Now now. She lets it lay dormant. She pretends to 'recover' as she blinks and shakes and offers an unconvincing smile. "Do not flatter yourself, Valzȳrysītsos. Antagonizing your mother is one of the few pleasures of life remaining to me. You are simply the best means to do so."

Helaena had by then noticed how they simply stand there. "What are they doing?" she asks.

"They're playing a game," Aegon says with disinterest. "I cannot tell who's winning."

"We can hear you," Aemond says. "And I am."

Rhaenyra scoffs, but does not correct him. She then leads him to retrieve the charcoal and then claim the wall that spans from the fireplace. She ushers him in first, because she's yet to reach that stage of acceptance where she's willing to be physically cornered by Aemond, Aegon, a corner, and a table.

She puts her instincts aside to slide in next to him, though she arranges a pillow to sit between them, and with it a message that touch is on her terms for now, before returning their tentative and fragile familiarity. "So, how many draws do you owe me?"

Aemond groans. Aegon laughs. "I'll keep him on track," he promises as he takes the tray of charcoal she'd set down. "After he gets through the ones I missed, that is."

Aemond drops his victory to turn solemn — and uncomfortable. "I think the Grandmaester is… overextended," he says without looking at her. "I'm going to get you a nurse. One who answers to Mother."

Ugh. She doesn't ask about how the Grand Leech overextended his tongue in the Council Chamber. She just nods. "I think that would be best."

Aemond watches Aegon arrange the coals atop the cloud maker like a man condemned, whilst Helaena had turned her attention to serving tea. Rhaenyra is relieved to discover that all three do in fact take their tea with honey.

"All set," Aegon says, holding a silver wand out to Rhaenyra. "One hose per couple." He defers to Rhaenyra to draw the four puffs that start the cloud and to judge the result. She nods in approval, and Aegon takes his own.

"Wait," says Helaena, as the less worldly ones watch their older siblings. "What is it?"

Rhaenyra is too busy revelling in the way the water within the base seems to bubble within herself to answer. She rarely got to partake since her marriage to Laenor when it had been a common activity, as it felt a bit mean whilst Daemon would regard her both sadly and enviously. Especially since part of that abstinence was for her benefit.

Aemond and Aegon exchange a look. "You needn't partake," Aemond says. "It's simply…"

"Father's special cough medicine," Aegon helps.

"Right," Aemond says. "And you do not have a cough."

"But neither do any of you," Helaena says.

Aemond takes a moment. "Because… we've been taking the cough medicine."

Rhaenyra's had enough. "This is a Sētetys Sambar. Or… 'cloud maker'. Within it is a powerful… flower, sambar rūklon or, cloud-blossom. The flowers and flavours are in this bowl and they're heated by these coals on top. Then the smoke goes to the water," she points to the widened base, "and then the smoke is cooled into mist and comes out through these hoses — as a cloud that you draw in through a breath. Aemond and I are taking it for the pain from our injuries, but that's not the only reason. It also helps you relax and disconnect from your body. Or feel like you're floating like a cloud."

Helaena bounces. "Oh. I'm good at that!"

Rhaenyra is curious about how it would affect Helaena, so she continues. "But, as long as you do it right, it doesn't make you sick like wine can. And leaves you more… coherent. Usually. Especially for most Targaryens. But we're starting early because what Aegon brought is strong. It's the resin of the flower, not just the flower. And we want to know if someone will react disruptively."

"Also," Aegon says. "Aemond has a long way to go."

Helaena nods. "Alright!"

The three look between them, and Rhaenyra shrugs. "If she can bear three children, she can bear this." No one argues, but one more thought does occur to her. "Oh, Hāedar, there is one rule in regard to this substance."

"What?"

"The first rule of being addled. No one sober can know that you're addled. You'll understand soon."

Like with much else, Helaena does not question this rule. She simply agrees, then takes the wand that Aegon offers and inhales. "Oh. It's like drinking the sky!"

Rhaenyra hands hers off to a reluctant Aemond. "She means the sensation, not the effect."

A Hightower at his heart, Aemond grimaces. But he can hardly back out after Helaena braved it. He draws a breath.

Aegon rises and clears his throat. "Now that we've reached that coveted stage of floating but not yet addled, I, Aegon Targaryen, eldest son of the family and self-appointed Master-of-Mischief, do hereby call this sibling council to order."

Rhaenyra and Aemond exchange wary looks as they remain reclined across their pillows. But Helaena sits up cross-legged and at attention. "What are we doing?"

Aegon begins his instructor pace, though he struggles with keeping to a straight line. "There is an issue we have yet to address, and this banquet gives us the perfect means to do so. And so tonight," he turns to them and raises his arms, "we will be getting justice for Rhaenyra."

"Not again," Aemond groans. "I thought Grandsire took away your fangs."

"Fangs?" Helaena asks.

The Master-of-Mischief raises a finger. "I'm not talking about the fangs. I'm talking about the tea. We cannot let that lapse in judgment, and justice, pass."

Helaena looks up from yet another inhale. "What tea?" she asks, whilst reaching for her own.

Rhaenyra and Aemond silently debate whose turn it is to lie to Helaena. But Aegon takes the initiative. "The Council made Rhaenyra drink a powerful tea that causes hallucinations."

"Why would they do that?"

"They… they were stupid enough to think might help her," Aegon says. He's migrated over to the fireplace and now pulls several jars of liquid from his bag. "Even though both Rhaenyra and I could have told them it was a bad idea. But they knew she wouldn't drink it if she knew, so they told her it was something else and also gave her too much! She became very unwell."

Rhaenyra sees where this is going. And while she suspects Aemond will not let them take it all the way, she cannot resist pressing forward. "The day you came when I had Lady Fell here. It could have gone very wrong. But I think they still don't understand why it was wrong."

"So we're going to show them tonight!" Aegon declares. He then proceeds to open and dump the jars into a large kettle. "I've been simmering it down to a powerful concentrate over the course of a few days. Low volume, high strength. Perfect for… subterfuge. All we need to do is find a sauce or soup or drink that's headed for our table. And, you know, avoid drinking it ourselves."

Time for reason. "Aegon," Rhaenyra says. "I had experience. I at least understood what was happening. Giving that strong a dose to people that repressed, who will have no idea what's even happening to them… You could really fuck them up."

"Do it," Aemond says.

"What?" both Rhaenyra and Helaena exclaim. Helaena had no doubt also shared Rhaenyra's assumption that he'd put an end to it.

Aegon laughs. "I think your gift had its intended effect, Mandia."

"Oh, Valzȳrysītsos," Rhaenyra cooes. "Did the Council hurt your feelings?"

"No!" he says too quickly.

Aegon catches her eye and mouths yes.

He must then realize how defensive he seems, and he tries to compose himself. "I simply think they should learn that unexpected, unfortunate events can befall anyone." He looks to his hand as he speaks, the one immobilized by wooden splints and linen tape. And Rhaenyra forces herself to ignore the faded bruises he tried to cover with the collar of his shirt, and his strategically arranged hair and eyepatch.

Far be it from Rhaenyra to stand in the way of this wedge between Aemond and the Council. Or some fun. "I suppose… the best form of justice is a lesson."

They all turn to Helaena. She takes a moment to consider. "It won't hurt them, will it?

"No," Aegon says. "You cannot be poisoned by toadstool tea. Physically, at least. It will just fuck with their minds. And possibly their stomachs. But remember, they did it to Rhaenyra."

"The tea does remove the ability to tell if you've consumed too much of other substances," Rhaenyra reminds him. "So we do need to watch them on that accord."

After some consideration, Helaena sighs. "At least now they'll learn how what they did was wrong." She cocks her head. "What about Mother?"

Aemond had started to smile as they furthered their plans, but now it drops.

"Aemond will take care of her," Rhaenyra says. "Mayhaps she'll even learn something about herself."

But Aemond is still silent. A true mother's boy. But they cannot warn the Green Viper, he must know that.

Rhaenyra now has some difficult questions to address. What is she willing to do to convince him? Is she willing to show him her tits? Would he see it as a fair exchange?

Who is she fooling? To see the Green Viper on toadstool tea, she'd even let him touch. Especially since he only has one hand to do so. That's revenge at half-price. And she's breastfed before, she's accustomed to children pawing around in there, is she not?

Have I truly fallen so low so quickly?

Aegon too can see his chance is slipping away, and mercifully interferes before Rhaenyra need decide if she should sacrifice the last of her pride. "Or if you're so determined to spare her," he says. "We can put it in the dessert."

Helaena shakes her head. "But then she'll never stop talking about how she escaped being addled by abstaining from dessert."

Aegon whoops, Aemond fails at stifling a laugh. Rhaenyra just cheers. "Helaena!"

Helaena accepts the praise with a timid smile. And another draw.

Rhaenyra draws her cloud before continuing. "Mayhaps we should wait. The shark was the main culprit, and he won't even be there." She passes the wand back to Aemond as a reminder to keep up. Or after his deal, stay ahead.

"The what?" Aemond asks after his mandated draw.

Rhaenyra shifts and hopefully looks uncomfortable. "Cole," she mumbles.

Helaena must have excellent hearing. "Why is he a shark?"

"He circles," Aegon says. "And bites. And drags people underwater. But he does fend off squids."

With the Green Viper absent, Rhaenyra need not err on the side of subtly, so she tries to make herself look like she's unknowingly trying to make herself as small as possible. Aemond notices. "That's enough," he says to Aegon. But then he looks to all of them. "Why do you all talk like that?"

"Like what?" Rhaenyra asks.

"Evasively and abstractly, sometimes almost poetically."

"I beg your pardon," Aegon protests. "Do not compare what Rhaenyra and I do to the nonsense Helaena speaks."

Her father's obsession with dreamers, and Daemon's obsessive disdain of 'dreamers,' had left Rhaenyra with enough information to know that Aegon is incorrect. "She's not speaking nonsense, Aegon. She's doing the same as us. Speaking metaphorically of a truth that might be overwhelming, too complex, or too horrific to process literally. Or she might only have a vague idea. Metaphors are tool, are they not?"

Helaena nods. "It's… it's like, some foods are too messy to eat without forks." She emphasizes her point by forking salad and fritters and dips into her pocket bread.

Aegon gasps. "Wait. Forks? Made of metal? Me-tal-forks?"

Everyone then gasps. Even Aemond. "Wait," he then says. "Why does that make sense?"

Having already considered the matter, Rhaenyra answers. "I think Helaena has fewer walls than we all do. And Aegon and I have fewer walls than you. But now you're floating, Valzȳrysītsos. You're floating above the walls. And without walls, all connections are equally connected."

Helaena wonders towards the ceiling. "So puns are equal to mathematics!"

"Alright," Aemond says. "Enlighten me then. Why the sea?"

Rhaenyra tries to look sad rather than challenging. More likely she just looks addled. "Because I am of the sky, not the sea," she says in Valyrian. "I cannot burn whilst trapped within the waters. Sometimes I can barely breathe."

His curiosity turns to concern. She looks away. "I'm sorry. It's not your fault," she lies. "You're not a sea monster."

"So what am I?"

A twat. "Ñuha Valzȳrysītsos." No, that was too nice. "And an annoying, pretender twat." That earns her an exhale that is almost a laugh.

"No, no!" Aegon exclaims, and they both turn to see him watching the with his hand raised. "I know! He's suckerfish!"

"What?" Rhaenyra says.

Aegon draws another cloud before continuing. "Because he rides a sky whale!"

All four laugh with that revelation, but in a languid manner as movement grows less desirable. They laze and ponder that thought for a time, watching the cats investigate the crates. But the room does not fall silent.

"Do you hear that?" Rhaenyra asks. String music streams in through the windows and balcony.

"You said the quiet was unsettling," Aemond says. "So I had the lyrists move their practice area."

"Oh…" She only semi-ironically strokes his shoulder. "Valzȳrysītsos. Are you trying to win me over? Or soothe your guilt?"

He matches her half-flirtatious, half-taunting tone. "Mayhaps I simply prefer you when you're in a good mood."

"Have the shark's words poisoned you so? Do you think I'm your dog you must keep content?"

"Biting me didn't help your case."

She sees her chance, and she's addled enough to drop her self-respect to take it as she slides to close that last bit of distance. "I didn't bite you because I'm a dog. I bit you because I'm a dragon."

He shifts. Closer to her. But still not touching.

"Alright you two," Aegon says. "I'm picking up some confusing tenors here."

"You'd be right to do so," Rhaenyra says. But she does not move away.

The fuck am I doing?

Making preparations, should she need to sail into the storm. She needs to face the water.

Oh no. Whilst both forks still come from the water, she is still mixing metal forks.

They all laze and draw more clouds for some time. Until Helaena announces her judgment. "I think… I like clouds better than wine. I might want some more for the banquet."

"You don't like banquets?" Rhaenyra confirms. She'd suspected as much throughout the years.

"The inside of my skin gets itchy. Especially in my formal gowns. They're so stiff. This is better." She moves for effect. "But still, everyone is always looking at me and I have to work hard to look at everyone properly and sit properly. But there's so many people to switch between."

Rhaenyra turns to Aegon. "Did you get the smaller one?"

He nods. "Won't be as strong though. And it will be… rougher. Smoke, not mist."

"That's fine. Our heads will be clearer by then, they need to be, so I can get ready and dodge sea monsters on the way in." Aemond shifts away with those words. Uh oh. Aemond always shifts away from her when he feels guilt. But she ignores him for now. "So we can do a... touch-up once it starts. For the pain in my arm. And Aemond's bad Hand. And his broken one."

Before they can laugh about Otto's metal fork, Alicent's metal fork pounds on the door, demanding to know what they're doing. Aemond jumps like a guilty child. Aegon decides to cover for them. "Uh… incest?"

Rhaenyra takes the hose from Aemond and hides it under a pillow, while Aegon wraps his own around the cloud maker. "Would you relax?" Rhaenyra says. "How do I make this clear? Your mother does not understand the world outside these walls. Or inside. Just tell her it's incense for the dust. She'll believe you, mother's boy."

Then again, did Rhaenyra ever believe Luke when he swore he was not engaged in mischief?

Oh, Luke is married now. He's definitely up to mischief. And Rhaenyra then reconsiders if she wants to risk seeing Rhaena through the glass candle. When Rhaena finds something new she likes, she tends to dedicate a lot of time to it. And Rhaenyra is unsure, and now a bit scared, of exactly what and how much it will show her.

But… what else can she do? Sit and wait?

She watches Aemond attempt to look innocent, and then settle for picking up a grape. Does Rhaenyra even want Rhaena looking for her?

After the Green Viper disturbed their investigation, Purrmithor had joined them to investigate the clouds, and Pancake to investigate the possibility of a massage. Rather than trying to extract Pancake the Uncooked, Aegon simply brings the cat with him. "Eye drops," he laments after he sends for the tincture. "I cannot believe we forgot the eye drops."

Helaena has another concern regarding their lies. "Should we actually learn to play this game if we're going to use it as our story?"

And so Rhaenyra is giving them a tutorial that they'll likely forget once sober when the virgin returns. Without knocking. Everyone flinches. "Sorry virgin," Rhaenyra says. "There's an orgy about to happen once we're done. So get in or get out. I don't like spectators."

"He is absolutely not getting in," Aegon says. "Our balance is questionable enough. And I might be feeling open-minded today, but that virgin is no Prince Daemon."

The virgin sneers. "I'm here to make sure that doesn't happen." And then he sits with disdain on the far cushion along Helaena and Aegon's wall. He waits there expectantly as they ignore him, and then he turns to Helaena. "Aren't you going to pour me some tea?

Aegon has an idea for Rhaenyra. "I think you should take your dress off to show him you're serious. Oh wait, still recovering. Just the top then."

"Right," Aemond says dryly. "That will send him running."

Aegon does that intentional misinterpretation he loves to do. "No, it wouldn't. Didn't you hear the Grand Leech? She has fewer marks than would be expected from someone whom motherhood has so generously… endowed."

Aemond has the grace to look guilty — and draw what might be the last remaining cloud. The virgin has the grace to have no idea what a cloud is. And Helaena has the grace to not understand the darker implications behind that revelation. "Oh right," Helaena says. "I noticed that and—"

"You what?" Aegon blurts.

Helaena ignores him. "I was going to ask how."

Rhaenyra ignores Aegon's troubling source of information. She shrugs. "I don't know. Exercise? And I eat a lot of fish."

"I bet you do," Aegon says.

Rhaenyra throws a grape at him. "Or exfoliation and moisturization, I suppose."

Helaena looks down. "You're supposed to moisturize there?"

"Why don't you give her a tutorial?" Aegon suggests.

Rhaenyra stumbles to her feet. "Very well."

Her brothers jump to attention. Helaena shakes her head at them.

Rhaenyra grabs Aemond's arm and pulls him to his feet. "No orgy," she says as she leads him to the annex where she'd seen his cat disappear. "Just proper, Faith-mandated congress. But I suggest you still leave. It's going to get loud. I'm really good."

The virgin scoffs. "You're not even healed yet."

There are too many people talking about Rhaenyra's body as of late. Might as well join in. "What do you mean? My throat feels fine."

Aemond trips over nothing.

"Yah," Aegon says. "And while they're back there, we're going to get to work. Their son will need a wife. And what a fun story it will be to tell at their wedding! So get out, virgin pervert."

He still doesn't leave, even as they pass the curtains. Aegon continues to argue with him and likely fondle Helaena as he does so. At least if Aegon truly is like Daemon, Rhaenyra need not worry about Helaena for tonight.

Rhaenyra sits on the bed that now hosts Aemond's cat who is definitely not named Brightroar. Presumptuous, self-important little thing. Mayhaps Aemond did choose her for more than pedigree. But she'll serve as a decent chaperone. "Worry not," she says to Aemond who now looms at the foot of the bed. The clouds at least numb some of her malaise. "He'll scare him off eventually. And it's not like he can go crying about how Aegon threatened to show affection to his wife."

Aemond just stands there with a question he's too afraid to ask. Or too smart to.

Rhaenyra scowls at him. "No, Valzȳrysītsos. Do you truly think I'm that casual about these matters?"

Aemond just stands there with an answer he's too afraid to voice. Or too smart to.

Unbelievable. "Seven Hells. What stories has your mother fed you?"

"Worry not," he tries to say casually. "Aegon fed me the important one this morning."

"Oh, don't be hurt. It's not you. It's just that I am not Father; I don't want to fuck a Hightower young enough to be my child. But if it makes you feel better, I'd rather it be you than Aegon." She's not sure if she's lying, and she's not sure if she wants to know. Yet bringing the issue to the surface does dissipate her unease. Strange.

She does the cat click and kneads the blanket. "Brightroar!"

"It's not Brightroar!" Aemond insists. But Brightroar has decided that is indeed now her name, because she then crosses the bed to investigate Rhaenyra.

She wriggles her fingers so the cat might choose where it's pet. "Why not? It's cute. And fitting." Deeming Brightroar friendly enough as she rubs her chin against her fingers, Rhaenyra uses the hand of her good arm to stroke the cat's cream coat.

Aemond seethes over her in a troubling similarity to his grandsire the day he gave her tea. And possibly struck her? At least he's at the foot and not the side of the bed. And Aemond doesn't want to be a striking viper, he wants to be a dragon. He needs to learn how dragons play.

She tuts. "Oh, Valzȳrysītsos. Are the Lannisters a sore point today? Or…" she removes her left hand from Brightroar to display her mobility, "mayhaps the point of a sword you cannot hold?"

He looks away, turns completely away, and even takes a few steps away. She getting close to something she shouldn't know. But she doesn't want him to think he can escape dragonsplay simply because there are matters she cannot know about, so instead she turns her attention to a safer sore point.

She inspects Brightroar's coat. "Oh, it looks like the company's groomers skipped a step. Can you fetch me that small wooden box over there?" She inclines her head towards the station she'd set up for all her beauty and washing supplies.

Likely grateful for the subject change, he follows her directions as she guides him into the drawers. Though he stiffens when he extracts the box, it's not until he opens it for confirmation that he explodes. "Aegon!"

But Aegon is too busy insulting the virgin to pay his outburst any mind.

"Don't be angry with Aegon. He retrieved it for me. Though… he had to go through quite the effort to find your hiding place."

The Hightower who wants to be a dragon turns into a lamb. The real dragon laughs at her prey. "Have you ever wondered why so many of our family seem to have this innate, uncontrollable urge to provoke you, Valzȳrysītsos?"

"Yes!" he exclaims. "You do it too!"

"Dragons are predators by nature. We cannot help but be tempted by easy prey. Especially prey that insists on calling attention to its vulnerability." Or insisting on its victimhood.

"I'm not prey," he insists. "I am the blood of the dragon. Rider to the largest dragon in the world. King of the Seven Kingdoms."

He's so sincere in his indignation that she cannot help but fall back next to Brightroar and laugh as she rolls.

Aegon calls across the room. "What are you laughing about in there?"

"Aemond!"

"Already? Seven Hells, baby brother. Though I suppose you lasted longer than I would have thought. Especially after seeing Rhaenyra's skill with cloud O's."

The virgin bursts through the curtain.

Rhaenyra and Brightroar jump. "Ah! Fuck off, virgin." Brightroar chirps an agreement.

The virgin looks back, and must decide Halaena is far enough away to speak freely. "Better a virgin than a whore."

"If that's what you think, you've clearly fucked neither virgin nor whore." Then again, neither had Rhaenyra. But they don't know that.

"I don't need to. Virgins don't sully their family line with bastards and let their lust drive them into imprisonment. Whores can find themselves replaced by their very own lady-in-waiting."

Rhaenyra does go silent for a moment, as she once again dwells on the conclusion that stems from the fact that Elinda is not fit for a daemon-keeper, which means Daemon must have brought two adults in addition to the boys and supplies needed for five people on a long-distance journey. All of which adds up to a troubling conclusion about Aegon and Viserys that makes Rhaenyra shudder.

They are definitely double-buckling.

Aemond straightens and opens his mouth as if to play the white knight. But Rhaenyra has no trust remaining for white knights. "I'm glad the boys have Elinda; she's fond of them. And that's probably why Daemon chose her. He prefers maternal women. And he's a free man. What right have I to begrudge that freedom when he did not even choose it?"

The virgin must have thought he'd won during her lapse, and now he clings to any path he can think of. "Well, he couldn't have been too reluctant to leave you. I heard he was so disgusted by how hard you were crying that he didn't even properly kiss you goodbye."

"Daeron," Aemond warns, in a way that suggests someone with an inappropriate obsession with Rhaenyra and Daemon's relationship has been collecting and comparing accounts and ranting about the subject to others who also think it matters that Daemon did not directly put his lips on her lips whilst she was weeping and snotting on a pyre of mutually-assured destruction. Someone who only knows of love through fairytales that end in a kiss.

The question is. Was it the Green Viper? Or the shark?

She considers a lecture about how different cultures have different standards for expressing intimacy and that most, including Valyrians, do not share the Andal tendency to place baffling importance on what is simply one of many means of delayed or extended eroticism, and that whilst a lip to lip kiss is certainly pleasurable and intimate, it is not the singular means of expressing affection.

But… ugh. Keeping that to herself might just serve her later.

The virgin still stares at her. Waiting for her to cry or argue. She settles for an attack. "Why would we want to perform for a crowd of lusty virgins who need to get their thrills from watching others? That's why you're here, is it not? To watch us because you're not capable of satisfying yourself without help?"

"I'm here because you've proven far too eager to satisfy every man you meet."

Rhaenyra is addled enough to pursue an idea she'd normally be above carrying out, if not above considering. But she's a prisoner, so all fault lies with her wardens. She sits up on her knees and looks the virgin in the eye. "I'm first going to remind you that you barged into the curtained-off area where a married couple gathers at their marriage bed, so don't think about crying to the Hand."

"I'm not going to run crying to anyone, because I'm staying right here."

"No. I'm going to make a point, and you're going to leave, before I point out something else. And if you end up not coming back, we'll assume it's because you have other matters to attend to. But if you soon return, I'll assume that you had something very specific you needed to do. And as a virgin, it did not take you long." She looks to Aemond. "Turn around, Valzȳrysītsos."

He does. Reluctantly. Because unlike the virgin, he must go outside enough to have a sense of where this is going.

Her injury means she can only grab one of the Realm's Delights, but one is enough. She makes her point, and more importantly, she makes him point, before she need remove her hand. Leaving her safe from the Seven Hells. For now.

The virgin turns and follows his point, with an uncomfortable gait and strategically placed hands. "I have some matters to attend to," the virgin tells Aegon and Helaena as leaves. She wonders if this trick will work on the Green Viper.

Aegon laughs. "Did you take out your tits?"

Aemond whips around. Then, once he sees she's still clothed, tries too hard to look casual. Rhaenyra smiles. "It's nice to know that you lust for more than my crown." She's not sure if she means it.

"How did you do that?" he asks with wonder.

Rhaenyra resumes her cat cuddles. "Well you see, he's embarrassed because he's at that hard stage in life when he cannot always control when—"

"No. I mean… How do you do it? All these years. All this time. So many people, important people, are constantly insulting you. And it's not like you can pretend those words don't hold truth—"

"Go fuck yourself. Oh, wait, you have a broken hand and a mother who doesn't knock. Very well, I will allow you to continue out of pity."

He throws his hands up in exasperation. "You just did it again!"

She coaxes Brightroar onto her lap with a head-back scratch combination. "I'm a dragon. Why should I concern myself with the opinions of sheep?"

Aemond still looms at the foot of the bed. He ducks for a moment and stands to dangle the ankle chain no one had thought to remove. "How's that working out for you?" he asks like he thinks it's funny for a captor to taunt his prisoner with chains whilst she lays on a bed.

But she tries to brush it off. "I consider myself flattered. Sheep don't need chains when they're so easily led. You confine yourselves well enough."

He drops the chain. "I beg your pardon."

"How many times must I say this before you understand? Dragons are as mutable as flame. As fluid as fire. Or mayhaps everyone is, and we just get to fly above those boundaries. Though the sheep are more than welcome to follow. But it's the sheep who draw their own meaningless lines. It's the sheep who get angry when dragons fly across those lines. Don't be a sheep. Please. For my pride if nothing else."

"Huh?"

"Oh, sorry. I really mixed metal forks there." She inclines her head towards his abandoned box of shameful, feminine beauty products. "Have you ever taken a close look at the receipt that comes in those boxes? The bars are expensive to make and have little demand, which makes them a risk to produce. So the soapmaker includes an acknowledgment to their benefactor who pays them to always keep a supply."

He inspects the text for a few moments before presumably finding the message. And all those years of efforts wasted on subterfuge.

Sponsored by Prince Daemon.

"Of course," he says in a voice eerily similar to his mother's. "Not that it's going to stop Aegon from having his fun."

Rhaenyra has heard of enough, and witnessed enough, of his outbursts throughout the years to see the Hightower in him. That self-righteous indignation when others don't follow their miserable, meaningless path that they can pretend has meaning so long as others must follow. But he also possesses the Targaryen ability to forge his own path — not just with wings, but with fire and blood. And that might be the most dangerous combination in the world. For the Greens. For the Blacks. For Rhaenyra. For her family. For the realm.

He could burn the Seven Kingdoms and still convince himself he was in the right. He could come home from burning the Seven Kingdoms and have his mother comfort him and assure him he was in the right. And somehow that's more terrifying than the thought of Daemon doing it for fun.

Because for all Daemon's talk, he would never get that far. Fun fades as violence escalates. It's easy to let go and call it a day. But self-righteousness escalates right along with the violence done in its name, because once joined, that partnership is for life. It has to be.

But Aemond has not reached that point of no return the way his Grandsire has, the way his mother might have. Rhaenyra decides to start small. "Aemond. I know you are your mother's son. But have you ever considered… not caring as much as she does?"

"What does Mother have to do with this?"

"Everything. People like your mother and grandsire, they think there's only one right way, and that's their way. And as long as they follow their way then they're right. Although they're happy enough to reach into the dark for a cookie. Or a crown. All of which is annoying enough. But they become enraged when they 'light the way' only for others to refuse to follow."

"Rhaenyra, I'm too addled to comprehend whatever point is at the end of all your metal forks. Can you simply make it?"

He is quite addled. Which is why it troubles her that the Hightower still pierces through and above that fog. Now that's a high tower. But how does she put this both clearly and delicately? "You're on a dangerous path," she finally says. "For all of us. And an annoying one." Or she can do neither.

He looks at her expectantly, waiting for more.

"Mayhaps experience is more valuable than words. Especially my words right now. What if I show you what happens if you continue down this path?" She gives Brightroar a parting stroke as she rises, and walks through the curtains before he can answer.

Helaena and Aegon now stand around the dining table. "What's this?" she asks of the clams.

"A science experiment," Aegon says as he pours lines of salt between them. "We're going to see if we can steer them."

"Well, I have a new science experiment for us. Only we'll be experimenting with vipers." She turns to Aemond who'd slowly followed her from the annex. "Everyone name something random. Anything. And I'll use it to make the vipers twist themselves in knots."

"How?" Helaena asks.

"I'm going to throw crumbs off the path, and they're going to get tangled trying to drag them back."

Helaena and Aemond exchange confused looks, but Aegon's hungry smile tells her that he knows exactly what she means. "Father's fiftieth name day!" he declares. Rhaenyra suddenly regrets that particular comment at breakfast, as funny as the Old Viper's disgust had been, and the way he'd had to set aside his milk.

"Too easy," Rhaenyra says.

Aegon crosses his arms. "You said anything. I pick Father's fiftieth name day."

"Aegon, this is supposed to be a challe—"

"Father's. Fiftieth. Name day."

"Aegon."

"Fine. Milk."

"Father's fiftieth name day it is." She looks to the others. "Alright you two. Give me something better. Anything."

Aegon isn't finished. "And I want Prince Daemon to be my Kepa."

Also too easy. And believable. After witnessing too many eerie similarities, Rhaenyra has caught herself wondering if Daemon truly had lain with the Green Viper and is just too embarrassed to admit it. Or mayhaps she was so boring that he simply forgot.

"Fine," Rhaenyra says. "Alright, you two. Give me something each."

Helaena and Aemond unoriginally look around the room for inspiration. Helaena points to the table. "Clams."

Also easy, but not in an obvious way at least. "Good. Aemond?"

Whilst he looks at his inspiration, his broken hand at least stops him from pointing. "The model," he says like he thinks it's a challenge.

It's not. Oh well. "Easy," Rhaenyra says. "Oh, and when they get here, your grandsire is also a virgin."

Aemond and Aegon both nod, but Helaena does not. "I didn't understand," she says. "Why did you call Mother a virgin?"

"Our mockery is twofold," Rhaenyra says. She holds up a finger for effect. "They see themselves as morally superior because they abide by a strict, but convenient, code. And they are repressed to the point where they have likely never engaged in anything carnal outside of what they consider duty."

"Oh."

Aemond regards her. "So you're going to what? Annoy them? To what end?"

"To warn you away from your end." And quite possibly as a result, all of their ends.

A few failed clam races later, the vipers slither in. Without knocking.

"Alright," Rhaenyra whispers as she hears the door open. "Aemond, observe. Helaena, support. Aegon, be yourself."

And then Rhaenyra throws crumbs of nonsense, and some sense, linked by clams, the model, and Father's fiftieth name day, into the dark. The vipers chase every crumb whilst they shake, and flush, and seethe, and even stand on their tails and tangle their tongues, completely unaware that the dragons only grow hungrier and hungrier as they bait their prey. And instead of continuing on their own path, they follow her and her crumbs further and further into the darkness, screaming at her to follow them back! Finally, they twist their bodies into knots and roll out of the room.

For creatures who care so much about the straight path to righteousness, they are certainly good at contorting.

Rhaenyra giggles at his horror. "Beware the path before you, Valzȳrysītsos."

"I…" he begins. "I'm not, I'm not like that, am I?"

"Yes!" Aegon cheers. "Never change, baby brother."

Aemond just sits there in denial.

Rhaenyra grabs the jar of cat treats, prompting both Purrmithor and Pancake to emerge from their crates. She looks Aemond in the eye, opens it to let the scent escape, and shakes it. "Brightroar! Come here!"

She does.

Aegon points and laughs at Aemond. Be it from substance or existential horror, Aemond remains trapped within his own head as they guide him back to the corner and Aegon prepares more clouds. Aegon coaxes Aemond into taking the wand like a parent gives a tired child juice.

Helaena is kind enough to knock and wait for an 'enter,' before she returns. "What did I miss?"

"Rhaenyra's experiment broke Aemond!" Aegon says. Aemond blinks out of his trance when he hears his name.

"I still don't understand," Helaena says as she sits. Aegon hands her the wand. "What was the experiment?"

Rhaenyra exhales and hands hers back to Aemond. He definitely needs it more. "The world is a vast expanse, and that's scary to some. So they decide to light a way. But that's not enough for them. To feel safe, they need to make it the way. And to make it the way all must follow. Because if all don't follow, they might need to turn their heads, and see the rest of the world."

"Ah," Helaena says. "He finally realized how sensitive he is?"

"I'm n—" but then he realizes the paradox he's caught in.

And then the virgin enters.

"Ugh," they all groan.

"Get out of here virgin!" Aegon says. "How are you even still coherent?"

What?

The virgin does not look right. The virgin doesn't really look at anything. The virgin drifts around the room. The virgin is lost at sea.

Rhaenyra turns to the only possible culprit. "Valonqar. What did you do while Aemond and I were back there?" Now that she thinks of it, she has no idea what Aegon and Helaena and the virgin were doing for that time. But she now has a suspicion.

Aegon is only too happy to confirm that suspicion. "I just shared a nice midday tea with my brother, Mandia. Nothing nefarious."

Helaena chimes in. "Except Aegon said that virgins cannot drink the adult tea. He can only drink the virgin-i-tea— oh." She looks to where the kettle once rested in the fireplace.

Rhaenyra sighs. "How much?"

The virgin just stands there. Helaena decides it's time to rise and help him sit beside her. "How did he even make it here?" she asks.

Aemond awakens and reaches over to wave a splinted hand in front of him. "He must have had an escort."

"I repeat," Rhaenyra says. "How much?"

The fact that Aegon needs to consider so deeply does not bode well. Neither does his answer. "I don't really know. It's concentrated, remember?"

"Why?" Aemond asks. "Why, Aegon?"

"He was annoying. And I was worried you all would back out so you could wait for the shark. Which will be fun, of course, but I put a lot of work into that mix and I didn't want it to go to waste. At least now we can run an experiment."

"Shark?" the virgin exclaims.

"Why is he so fucked up?" Aemond asks. "Rhaenyra wasn't this bad."

"That's because you left before she got sick," Aegon reminds him.

Rhaenyra ignores the memory of Aegon needing to hold back her hair, which might have softened her opinion of him if he didn't have an unsettling fixation with touching her hair. "And I knew what was happening, and what to expect."

"Aegon," Aemond says. "What are we going to do with him?"

"I think he's withdrawn into fervent introspection. We can just ignore him."

Aemond turns to Rhaenyra. "What's the difference between what we're taking and what he took?"

"We're floating above the walls. His walls… are gone. But he doesn't know what's happening."

Aemond turns back to Aegon. "Seven Hells, Aegon. What about the banquet?"

"Say he's sick?"

Time for Rhaenyra to be concerned. "And when he starts hallucinating?" she reminds him. "Your Grandsire said he cannot leave without you."

The virgin clutches his legs to his chest. "I think I ate something bad. Everything feels like a dream." He then tries to burrow his head into his knees and close himself off like a—

"Oh no," Rhaenyra says. "He's not just a virgin. He's a clam. He's a little closed clam. I worry we cracked him."

Aegon laughs.

"It's not funny," Rhaenyra says. "Who do you think the sea monsters will blame?"

The clam pokes its head up. "Sea monsters?"

"Yes!" Aegon says. "These halls are flooded with squishers!"

Rhaenyra protests this escalation. "No one said anything about squishers."

Aegon gasps. "They steal women and eat young boys!"

"Aegon!" Aemond yells. He looks to Rhaenyra as if she might fix Aegon's escalation, but then whips around to the clam. "The squishers are not going to eat you," he says indulgently.

"Oh," Aegon says. "Oops. Right. Worry not, little clam. The squishers are not coming for you."

The clam is shaking now.

"You two are making it worse," Rhaenyra says. "Just send for the Grand Leech— fuck."

"Leech?" the clam gasps. He surveys the room then closes as tight as he can. And then he starts rocking.

Helaena steps in. "I think it might be time to explain to him what's happening."

"He cannot learn in this state," Aegon argues. "And also I don't want to." He gets up and sits next to the shaking clam. "What's happening is… you're a little clam, and the sea monsters want to crack you open and eat you. So you just stay closed really tight."

"I… I'm not a clam," the clam says doubtfully.

"Shh…" Aegon says. "It's a metal fork. Right now your mind is too messy to eat without tools."

The clam clutches his head in a fruitless attempt to protect his brain from Aegon. It's the most relatable thing he's ever done

"You clearly gave him too much," Rhaenyra says. "He's beyond understanding."

"Well, he's not sick at least. Unlike the Grand Leech, I steeped it long enough."

The clam disagrees. "But nothing feels even."

Aegon makes a wave with his hand. "That's because you're in the ocean."

The clam believes him. The clam is going to be a clam for quite some time. "We need to hide him," Rhaenyra says. "If the vipers see him like this, they're going to blame me."

The clam cowers. "Vipers?"

Aegon continues to be Aegon. "Yes, watch out. They don't even need to crack you, they'll just swallow you whole."

No one stops him. What else can they do? Explain that Aegon poisoned him with the poison they were possibly planning to poison the Council with? The clam is a tale-bearer.

Fuck.

Aemond treads some dangerous waters. "Can you… give him whatever you were planning…" He inclines his head towards Rhaenyra.

"I can see you," she says.

He's wise enough to look to the floor after that. "I said planning to. Not going to."

"Right, Aegon's cocktail is why I'm offended. And that's a terrible idea."

Aegon takes offense. "That was an accident! I've put together some better options that I've tested. And I promise. No conscious paralysis. Oof. Could you imagine?"

"Gods be good," Aemond actually mumbles.

Rhaenyra is done with both of her brothers. "For the clam Aegon."

Helaena chimes in. "I'm so confused."

"Good," Aemond and Rhaenyra both say. Strangely enough, Helaena then stands and crosses to the other side of the apartment. At least it leaves them safe to converse.

"I mean it you two," Rhaenyra hisses. "This is all going to fall on me. And I am very tired of waking up to discover what new fucked up thing your family has done to me in my sleep. I thought we were done with that." No, she didn't, but they should still feel bad.

"She has a point," Aegon says. "I mean, they did fang her, chain her, and give her the scary gargoyles all over a mo—"

They all look to each other and entertain and very bad idea. Until Helaena rejoins them holding a jar. "Here." She tries to hand it to the clam, but he will not open for it. "Look, see? It's more of you! As long as they're safe, you're safe."

They lean over the clam to see that Helaena offers the jar of sand and saltwater she'd stored the… clams in.

The clam opens, takes the clams, and closes. He stops shaking at least.

It's Aegon who says what they're thinking. "I have a bad idea."

For someone who oft complained of Rhaenyra's dishonesty, Alicent's arrangement certainly requires many lies on Rhaenyra's part. Many unexpected lies, as Helaena demonstrates she retrieves the cat sandbox on the balcony that the Greens had put the finishing touch on a few days ago during one of her walks.

"Why is it barred?" Helaena asks of the outdoor cage disguised as ornate filigree. Because Helaena had not been present when the Green Viper had proudly informed Rhaenyra of how she'd made certain to have the outside barred so that she might sit on the balcony, but that the 'privilege' would be revoked if she 'abused' it.

The shark had later repeated her warning in less 'nice' terms.

"I sleepwalk. That's how I was hurt, remember?"

Aegon pays them no mind. Aemond catches her eye for one ambiguous moment before turning away.

"Oh right. Sorry." She twists as if trying to shake something off. "I dreamt you were attacked by a shark. Well, you fell in and were attacked by many sea creatures, but they all got away."

"Oh," is all Rhaenyra can say for now. She follows Helaena over to the slated crate their brothers had emptied and lined with blankets and pillows. The clam is already nestled in with his clams. Aemond is at least responsible enough to hand him some water flasks.

The self-appointed Master-of-Mischief takes the sandbox. "Alright clam. See how those little clams are oh so safe after burrowing into their sand? Now you're safe too." He empties the sandbox over the clam, and the blankets give the illusion of more volume.

Helaena reaches as if to stop him. "You didn't ask me if it was clean."

Now that it's too late, no one dares ask. But Aegon at least gives a warning. "If you think you find a sausage in there, do not eat it."

Rhaenyra remains as distant as she can from the crime itself. For all her mockery of the Hightowers' strange code, she truly does not wish for the chains to return.

Aegon grabs the lid. "Now remember. The squishers are going to take you. But you're safe in the sand. They won't find you if you don't make any noise. Just dig in and stay there until it's safe."

"H-h-h-ow will I know when it's safe?" asks the clam.

"Oh… I think you'll know," Aegon assures him. "Try to get some sleep. Oh, here," he takes the now-empty metal box as well and passes it down. "In case you do get sick."

Aemond continues to be half-responsible. "And remember, if the top doesn't open, you can escape from the side." He taps the one detachable side. Though Rhaenyra suspects the clam will not be able to open it until he's sober.

Then again, isn't that the point?

Helaena is showing doubt. She leans in to whisper to Rhaenyra. "I really thought Aemond would have put a stop to this by now."

"I think Aemond might be more addled than he knows," Rhaenyra says. "He made a very stupid… bet this morning."

"Over what?"

"Whether men are disgusting. He bet that they weren't."

"Oh. That was stupid."

They deem Aemond too inexperienced in pretending not to be addled to engage the soldiers for the moment, so Aegon is tasked with sending the clam to his sanctuary, and receiving their supplies. "No no, it was just a pot of tea. No need to send the scary maids. They're scary." The soldiers actually mumble an agreement. Because scary maids are too scary for everyone except Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra, meanwhile, had made a pot of tea. "I think some of us took too much. This should help, but I suggest we… sleep the worst of it off. And it will be easier to sell a napping clam that way."

Her siblings agree. Because two of her siblings were already one cup into their tea. Once again, they take their tea with honey.

Rhaenyra does not.

Aemond is the last holdout, presenting another opportunity. Once she takes a seat next to him, she sees that he's barely touched his tea. She takes a deep sip of her own as a hint, and makes certain Helaena is deep asleep before speaking. "If I end up back in chains because—"

"You won't," he says. "I promise."

"Why?"

"I could ask the same."

Because Aemond matters most of all. Because Rhaenyra had already come to the conclusion that when her husbands surround the city, it's Aemond, rider of Vhagar and leader to his siblings in all matters not related to mischief, who will have to lead the surrender. And if he's ever going to do that, she needs him to not think himself right simply for existing. And she needs him to trust her.

And ideally not murder his royal hostage in a panic.

But she can hardly tell him that, so she gives him the piece of truth that she's able. "Isn't it obvious?" She empties her cup and pours herself more, taking the chance to also top up his nearly full cup. But he does not drink. He sits there waiting for an answer. "I love my children. More than anything. And you are a far better man than your grandsire ever was."

Aemond finally takes an interest in his tea. He won't look at her. He won't look at her. But she cannot speculate as to why. She'd drive herself insane sifting through the myriad of possibilities. But she at least decides to take it as confirmation that, for all his previous bluster, he does not thirst for her family's blood.

He finishes his tea. "Rhaenyra," he says without looking at her. "I need to tell you something."

"Please don't."

He sits in contemplation for a moment. "No," he says. "You do need to know this. I did not realize just how many here want you to suffer. And… I think Gwayne might try to trip you in revenge for Prince Daemon tripping his horse."

She'd worried as much. She doesn't know if that's what he truly intended to tell her, if mayhaps he's addled enough to almost say something he shouldn't, but she decides she doesn't need to know. Because this boy is just a well of opportunity today. "Even… even though I'm," she twists to display her arm, and Aemond finally turns to look upon her.

With an empty tea cup.

"Considering the fact that he originally wanted to trip you in chains, I worry this may only entice him."

I'm going to the Seven Hells.

"I'm… I'm certain that the odds are low," Rhaenyra says. "But even so, mayhaps we should rethink Helaena's grand entrance. It was one matter when I was just trying to annoy your grandsire—"

"Is that why?" Aemond's voice drips with sarcasm. "I had no idea. You've been so subtle about it."

He's the right amount of addled to convince his brother that he's a clam. She can only hope that he's the right amount of addled to see a good idea for what it is. "Please," Rhaenyra scoffs. "Like you weren't looking forward to seeing his face. But I worry that no one will be looking at her face in that dress. If she enters first she could very well be mistaken for me. And then…" She throws up her good arm as she prompts him to think about the possible outcomes. And hopefully remember just how helpful Rhaenyra can be.

Aemond looks to the sleeping two-armed Helaena, whom he must know is capable of more than her family ever allows her to try for. And then he turns to Rhaenyra. "What if she was?"

The glass candle lights far faster than it did for Daemon. Rhaenyra could try to attribute it to the fact that Daemon was far more addled, on a far stronger substance, than she is right now, and that mayhaps she's found the right balance. But the ruby in her hand tells her otherwise.

What feeds a dragon's fire?

She'd stared into it before on a lark. And on toadstool tea. And it felt like she'd bathed all her senses in the sun.

She makes one more nervous peak beyond the curtain before she looks. Or mayhaps she truly does not wish to look. She's pushing herself to do far too much today. But today could be her only day. With all the moving yesterday, it was easy to move the leeches to a box of heirlooms that the gargoyles would take no interest in. It was even easier to make sure one was fully fed and set aside in a cup of water. And so once she was certain the honey did its job even in its diluted form, she'd arranged the clutter so that anyone approaching the annex will make noise.

It's time.

She forces herself not to recoil. She lasts about two minutes. The next time she lasts three. Or it could be seconds.

She tucks the ruby between two fingers and holds her eyelids open. She lasts twice as long at least. But for what?

It's so bright. And more than bright, it's just so much. It's like flying towards the sun after a long night of drinking whilst Daemon and the children prattle into her ear.

Then again, she does that all the time. So she presses her forehead to the obsidian, wills her eyes open, and looks.

At everything.

No. She's looking for Rhaena. She's looking for the ruby. Somewhere.

Ah! She gets tangled yet again.

She retreats once more and lays on her rug. Her rug of many intricate, interwoven patterns of which you can only study one or two before becoming overwhelmed.

Thank-you, rug. But this is far more patterns. Too many layered patterns to pick out any. And it's not as if they're laid out neatly in straight lines. It's a fucking image salad. A salad of images far too tiny and far too messy to—

To eat without a metal fork.

Rhaenyra's good at metal forks. Valyrian poetry and language and culture are steeped in metal forks. With metal forks? Never mind, she's not a pedant. Or a Hightower. In fact, she's surprised that Daemon did not send her metal forks.

Unless he did. The Green Viper had mentioned there'd been books. Books that would take some time to 'clear.' And thinking of it now, she's willing to bet that Daemon packed at least one of those books for a reason. Or as the Green Viper would say, 'had his daughter' pack one of those books for a reason.

Oh no. It's probably in Valyrian. The Green Viper is never going to hand them over. And it's not like she can ask and draw attention to it. So… it's up to her. It's up to Rhaenyra to decide. Because now she wonders what Daemon truly meant for her to do with the candle, if he even wanted her to search for Rhaena rather than sitting in wait.

Should she really be trying to see Dragonstone? If the secret, or secrets, are strategic in nature as Ser Harrold had said, wouldn't seeing Dragonstone make them vulnerable? Does Rhaenyra truly have the energy to conceal even more from her captors?

No. She cannot risk it. She can practice in some other way, until Rhaena finds her. And yet this is such a rare opportunity, one she poisoned her siblings for. And these rubies present an unprecedented amount of access.

Oh, right, metal forks. Being addled might have made it easier to start, but substance has its drawbacks. Clouds—

Clouds? Clouds have patterns. But that's not complex enough. That's doesn't help her find a specific pattern. A specific place. She needs a path to what she seeks. She needs a connection. She needs something to guide—

Seven Hells. She needs something to light the way. The rubies can light her way.

Daemon can never know about this.

Daemon.

There were five rubies on her necklace. And Daemon is both sentimental and calculated. If she should not be looking for Rhaena, at least until she can control what she sees, what if she practices on Daemon? She'd be safe from stumbling upon secrets, and she would get a sense of how long she has.

Then again, does she want to know that either? Is it not much easier, in the moment, to win Aemond over whilst she can grow genuinely fond of him? Albeit not in the same way she both worries and hopes he thinks of her. If she knows he's going to rape her for certain… that might be too much pretending for even Rhaenyra.

Then again, she's supposed to assume she's going to be here long enough — in the Greens' eyes that is.

You do what you need to do, I understand. If anyone else refuses to understand, I'll just kill them.

At night, she longs for her husband. She dreams of her husband, and sometimes, remembering his touch, and the promise of their reunion, does bring her comfort. And while she can take both pain and comfort admiring her locket and thinking of the children's past, thinking of their current situation, and separation, brings her to tears.

Ugh. She's trying to use a tool where the main challenge is finding what to see, and she cannot even decide what she wants to see!

Because in truth, she doesn't want to see it.

It's not just Luke and Rhaena. Her family is inappropriate enough that she would recover. But she remembers Aegon's tale of her children on tiny dragons, flying to face-off with Vhagar. Gods, what if she sees something similar? Oh gods what if she sees Rhaena become so desperate she risks trying to claim an unwilling mount? What if she sees Jace or Luke or Joffrey readying for a confrontation? What if she sees Baela starting a confrontation?

Baela is not doing well.

No. She'd never be able to hide it. It needs to be Daemon, and the poor soul whose sanity her family sacrificed.

Besides, Rhaena is probably focusing on Rhaenyra. This way, Rhaenyra can be their Daemon link. Rhaenyra can be useful in a way that does not compromise her promise. And in truth, she's still a stupid princess at heart. So she picks up her metal fork, rests her forehead back upon the pillar, looks down to the ruby, and searches for the light. The light that leads to the other ruby. The light that leads to her husband.

And she finds it.

She does not find him, but she finds his surroundings. And yet she knows he is at the centre. It's not bright where Daemon is. It's dark. Even though it's light right now.

Oh, right. The world is a sphere that turns into the light. A factoid one learns in theory but typically does not have much use for, unless you're Elissa Farmon.

Back into the light, Rhaenyra. And… the light. And around that light is a sprawling city with no walls, only a gate of horses marks a boundary. And she's learned enough of Essos to know there's only one place this could be. And the more she focuses on the centre, the more the centre reveals itself.

Daemon is at the centre. She can barely see him, but he's there. And he's sleeping. At night. That's a good sign.

Aegon and Viserys sleeping next to him is a less good sign. Because the pieces all fall together when she sees them.

Daemon is about to leave Elinda and the boys alone in Vaes Dothrak.

Rhaenyra's motherly rage flies across the world and echoes off the Mother of Mountains.

Daemon!

Daemon stirs. And then it all slips away when the door opens and the chimes sing.

Fuck. How does she put it out?

And then it goes out. It just does.

She does not relight the candle when the Green Viper slithers out. Because whilst the obsidian shows no trace of burns, Rhaenyra has burned out. Mayhaps the cloud makes it easier to continue past where she should.

She falls onto her bed next to Brightroar, who'd apparently decided that bed belongs to her, and she tries to process what she saw. And what it means.

Because Vaes Dothrak cannot be more than halfway to Asshai. Why is Daemon fucking around? Right. Full dragon. Full of children who need to stop, whilst guiding two other riderless dragons. And he's likely been there for awhile to ascertain their care and safety.

Why would he slow himself down so much by bringing the boys so far? He told her he was leaving them in Pentos. It's close.

Mayhaps too close? Mayhaps he realized that upon arriving. Mayhaps the Prince told him he could not guarantee secrecy, especially with a baby dragon flying around. One sighting gets word to one sailor, who can make it to King's Landing in under a fortnight. And the next day the Green Viper will send her sons to 'save' them.

Fine. It's secretive, she'll give him that. And safe from the Greens. She'll give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he heard that one of the Dothraki he personally knows would be in the city to guarantee their sons' safety.

But that's not the only reason he's taken so long. And she should have known. Because travel by dragonback is dangerous post-Doom. Especially if you have but one rider. You cannot just land at some inn and ask to hitch your dragon for the night. Dragons make you a target, especially once you dismount. You either need to make remote camps, or have secure stops and allies arranged along your whole route, and now that she thinks about it, she imagines that's another reason why Daemon is in such a multi-cultural city like Vaes Dothrak. He's making arrangements.

Fuck. And when he reaches Asshai, then what? Rhaenyra thinks of 'Alys Westhill' or Elissa Farmon and how King Jaehaerys did not pursue her, because dragons can only stay aloft for so long. They cannot simply fly over open ocean. What if they don't turn back in time?

I'm fucked. I'm literally fucked.

And Aemond is a dead man. Because even if Rhaenyra were the type to let him live, Daemon Targaryen is not. Which means the Greens' surrender gets much more complicated, and dangerous.

She needs to buy time them all time.

"Rhaenyra?" Helaena calls.

Rhaenyra beckons her through the curtains. "Awake so soon?"

Helaena shrugs. "I thought I heard you yell earlier. But it took me awhile to awaken fully."

"Yell?"

"At…" She takes a sudden interest in Brightroar. "At Prince Daemon."

She didn't actually yell, did she? Would Brightroar not have startled? Would their brothers not have awoken? Would Rhaenyra's throat not feel like she'd just yelled?

Rather than give herself an additional headache, she decides to sleep away her additional headache. "It must have turned into such a habit that I still yell at him in my sleep." She pats the bed. "I need another hour. You can join me here if you wish."

She does.

"I'm sorry about Lady Elinda," Helaena whispers once they're under the covers. "The boys told me."

Rhaenyra appreciates that there's little need to turn to face Helaena. "Daemon is a free man. He may do as he like."

Helaena shifts deeper into the sheets. "I just… I don't understand why she would run off with someone that dangerous." She flinches as realizes that hidden implication. "Sorry."

"It's fine, Helaena. Ask your question."

"Why did you?"

Rather than launch into a complicated explanation of the appeal of monstrous men who turn docile for only you and yours, Rhaenyra seizes the chance to test just how much a mother lives within Helaena, versus how much of Helaena's mother lives within Helaena. "It's complicated. But what really sold me is that he spent years travelling abroad on dragonback with his wife and children, and so didn't always have reliable personal servants."

"And?"

"You know what that means?"

"No."

Rhaenyra feigns a swoon into her pillow. "He knows how to do his daughters' hair!"

"Oh," Helaena gasps. Mayhaps she is more Rhaenyra's sister than she is the Green Viper's daughter.

The boys leave supporting a light-sensitive, barely conscious Daeron the Dare Wring between them. The clam had fortunately left his cloak behind.

The sea monsters are kind enough to send Ser Harrold to escort Rhaenyra and Helaena through the water. "You're good with names and faces," she whispers to her protector as they make their way there. "The Greens have given us a gift. Everyone in attendance knows exactly what's happening. It's the reason the Greens have hosted this event. Make me a list with as many names as you can. Put it away for later."

"Gladly."

Her bait handles herself well, as does the now semi-sober Aemond. Honestly, some regular clouds might be good for him. And now that Rhaenyra has handed Aemond his crown, or her crown, she decides she deserves her fun.

Aemond doesn't even startle when she kisses him. She's not sure how she feels about that. But then she sees the Green Viper so twisted in her knots that Rhaenyra wonders how she can breathe.

She'd been floating well above the water today, mayhaps as high as the clouds, under the protection of her little husband. But by sea monster standards, she imagines they think she's forgotten herself. So the moment her protector's attention turns elsewhere, the other squid drags her back into the depths.

She gasps. But the tentacle does not let go of her leg. The tentacle likely remains as a warning that it can leave and make a liar out of her.

She'll give this squid credit, he's wise, not wanton. He's not doing this out of lust, or at least, not only lust. He's reminding her who's really in charge. Whose word is worth more. Because tentacles do not leave bites. They leave only words. Rhaenyra's against his. He's their most important supporter. Even if Aemond chooses to speak for her, he'll lose. And he'll resent her for it. Or he'll win, and lose the squids, and he'll resent her for it.

And so she waves the attention away. Most of it, at least. Because the Old Viper sits directly across from her. The Old Viper had no doubt been glaring at her when the squid attacked. The Old Viper actually starts to open his mouth, but then he thinks on it, and turns away. Because as much as the Old Viper wants to hide behind propriety, he must know that if he lets the Lannisters dig themselves in this deep, they'll never jump factions.

He's on her injured right side, so she cannot even brush him off. But he does not venture into forbidden territory at least, so Rhaenyra stops shifting and leaves it be until she can think of something better. But the squid does not want her to stop shifting. The squid wants her to be uncomfortable.

"The shark swims with the sea monsters," Helaena mumbles. "But he is not one of them. He comes from other waters."

Helaena speaks truth.

Helaena is looking at her.

But Helaena does not seem to know exactly what she's looking at, only that something might be wrong.

Rhaenyra has no intention of turning into one of those maidens from Daemon's 'make Alicent uncomfortable enough to move back to Oldtown after Rhaenyra's ascension' erotic paintings he'd bought for the Holdfast.

And so when they return from their cloud touch up to find the vipers gone, Rhaenyra decides to prepare for their return. If the shark isn't able to remind everyone that she belongs to someone else, Rhaenyra will have to do it herself. So she slides her seat as close as she can to Aemond, and as far away from the squid as possible, and she suggests that the two injured royals help each other with their plates.

She rather likes the idea of the Green Viper watching her son literally eat out of Rhaenyra's hand. But Aemond is right. He is no Aegon. "Rhaenyra," he whispers. "You wouldn't be using me to antagonize my mother, would you?"

She smiles at the livid Green Viper who now returns to the table, leans in close, and answers for a long time. "You cannot have it both ways, little husband. Fire burns in all directions, and mine has burned away many obstacles for you today. But… I am a prisoner. And if I have to be at someone's mercy, I'd rather it be yours. I choose for it to be yours. So I'll give you the choice this once, and only once. If you'd rather have a kitten than a dragon, if you want me to stop it all, then I will. Just say the word."

He doesn't.

She laughs. "Good. How authentic a wife would I be without a few petty quarrels with my good mother?"

The Old Viper has also returned, and seems just as livid and twisted. But before either can open their mouths, they must both realize what Rhaenyra and her siblings had been counting on. They cannot make a scene right now. They cannot drag them away from the table. And as long as they hold their ranks, they cannot punish one without punishing all — and one of them just claimed his kingship.

So they sit. They sit in silence.

A few whispered negotiations later, Aemond concedes to one. Just one. And so Rhaenyra looks both the vipers' in the eye, picks up a piece of stew, and feeds their King with her metal fork.