Chapter 2
Roughly fourteen years ago
The crash of steel punctuated with the shouts of men rang out from the yard below. Men training at arms sweltered under an unforgiving sun whilst onlookers watched the colors of various houses weave amongst each other like a living collage.
Closer towards the front, the long, muscled arms of Ser Criston were busy pointing to various men and their gear as he instructed a group of silver-haired children gathered on the edge of the stands. A sea of servants moved to and fro as they prepared for the upcoming tourney, a celebration for the birth of yet another royal grandchild.
Below, the twin princes could be seen flanking either side of their younger brother. Aegon reclined back far enough to lean against the seat behind him. Maelys sat still and unmoving save for the occasional hand darting out to pull Aemond back into his seat when the young prince inevitably tried to move closer to the action.
Farther above, the King's booming laugh echoed across the yard as Daemon's brother allowed himself to be regaled with tales from the sycophants trying to curry favor with the monarch.
Daemon snorted, crossing his arms and wondering again why his bumbling brother allowed himself to be surrounded by prancing fools. Not that the Rogue Prince didn't often find himself amongst a crowd of opportunists and lickspittles. At least those who Daemon chose to drink with weren't dreadfully boring.
Nearby, his brother's frigid bitch of a queen could be heard quietly but heatedly fretting over her daughter, and Daemon's lips turned downward. Westerosi half-breeds, he thought contemptuously. Another reason his visits to the Red Keep were few and far between.
"Would you like me to escort the princess back to her chambers, your grace?" A servant asked with a half-asleep Daeron already in her arms. The waspish queen shot down the request, harshly reminding the young princess of their public role in events such as these.
Yes, display the pudgy child as a symbol of our house, the prince thought darkly. Perhaps they'll see the roasting boar and get inspired.
The King finally took note of the small discord and pulled the teary-eyed girl onto his lap. His brother had a fondness for children on the rare occasion he remembered those beyond Rhaenyra and her own progeny.
"What seems to be the problem my dear? The training yard can sometimes be too much for the faint-hearted," the blundering fool inquired in his characteristic, jovial tone. The young girl simply shook her head and buried herself in her father's fine robes, drawing a hearty laugh from the man and those around him.
"I apologize, your grace," one of her caretakers offered. "The princess has been sleeping poorly as of late." Beside them, the queen's frown deepened although whether that was due to her daughter's troubles or the spectacle it created was anyone's guess.
The King snorted. "And what monsters are plaguing your dreams, my girl," the inquired, laughing. "There is no beast my knights cannot slay." His large, scarred hands slowly rubbed up and down the girl's back.
"Dragons," a small, muffled voice replied. The monarch chuckled again and patted her a few times on the shoulder before drawing her back to look at her tear-stained face.
Daemon rolled his eyes and let out a withering sigh.
"We're the dragons, my dear," Viserys intoned deeply. "And it is the rest of the world that fears us; lest you forget." He chuckled. "It is our very blood which conquered this land, and it is our blood that keeps the peace." The young girl sniffled.
Daemon found deep satisfaction in the way which those around the King shuffled uncomfortably at the reminder of their subjugation despite the placid smiles adorning their faces.
"But it is the dragons," Helaena sniffled, shifting on her father's lap. She gazed out beyond the fighting below towards the far walls and lands beyond. "They're always fighting, and then the ravenous one eats them all."
A hum of comprehension emanated from the King's chest, and he gave his daughter a knowing smile.
"The Cannibal never strays from Dragonstone my dear; we're quite safe all the way over here," he reassured her. "And if it ever did, then your uncle and his mount are more than enough to slay the creature." The King shot him a pointed look, and Daemon bit back another sigh.
Gods take these sodding children, he groaned internally. Forcing the cockiest grin he could muster, Daemon nodded to the girl.
"There has never been a foe Caraxes and I could not defeat. We would make short work of the black beast," he affirmed. The sodding girl didn't even appear listening.
"The dragon is pale as milk, and can't be killed because it is already dead," the princess said without any inflection as if she hadn't been crying moments earlier.
Was the girl mad? The prince thought, frowning.
"The world is set alight with each of his steps," Helaena murmured, shifting. Daemon followed her vacant stare towards the young Maelys sitting near the front of the stands.
The prince felt the hairs of his neck stand up on end as he began to comprehend the premonition for what it was.
"And he always devours you last."
Present day
The rhythmic thud of boots on a hard floor echoed off the bright, granite walls. A quick nod to the guards preceded entry through reinforced doors, and Maelys continued into the pristine halls of the so called 'White Wing.'
Vain, pompous, spendthrift, and a dozen other labels had been thrown at him when he had first approached the small council about the project a few years prior. Otto of course had been furious at what he considered meaningless expenses.
Viserys, well, his father had been unimpressed not that Maelys could blame him. Renovating a terminal wing within the royal apartments was no small feat even when the prince had offered to pay with his own coin. The rotting fool had finally caved when his son described the undertaking as a late wedding present for his sister-bride. After all, why couldn't a scion of the royal house give his beloved a single, refurbished wing of a keep when his older sister was set to inherit an entire nation?
Thus, the White Wing was born. A gilded cage in the guise of a wasteful luxury. Non-load bearing walls were torn down and reconfigured. Each crack and fissure was interrogated. Those rare few which gave way to dark tunnels or similar contraptions were carefully marked, explored, and filled in without exception. Windows were barred, and every square centimeter of the interior was covered with sheets of polished, white granite.
It was excessive. And expensive. The reconstruction had nearly depleted Maelys' reserves at the time. He never regretted it, however, even if it meant gaining the reputation of a wastrel.
Even the most exorbitant of measures felt palatable when it was his own family facing down the possibility of Blood and Cheese. Between his own nightmares and Helaena's worsening dragon dreams, neither had slept much the first few months after the twins were born.
The visions still drove her to tears more nights than not.
Shaking away such thoughts, Maelys took a breath to steady himself, and threw open the door.
Silver-haired heads turned at his arrival. A beat of silence – and then then squeals and screams of Valyrian children greeted his entry. His youngest son, Maelor, led the charge with Jaehaera in tow. Without breaking stride, he scooped a child in each arm and closed the distance to his wife whilst peppering each their much-too-cute faces with an excessive number of kisses.
Sure, this sort of warmth was atypical for medieval families, but the prince couldn't be bothered. His kids were fucking adorable.
"We were unsure if you would continue north with His Grace," Helaena's tired voice cut through the clamor of children without looking up at Maelys. Her gaze remained locked on the small infant in her arms, and she gently tugged at the small corner of blanket which had inevitably ended up in their youngest's mouth.
Careful to hide the protests of his battered body, he shifted Maelor onto his shoulders and used his now free hand to gingerly tousle little Naerys' hair. The infant didn't react save for gumming the fabric slightly harder, making her father snort.
Well, hello to you too, Naerys, he thought sarcastically.
The feeling of a small hand sneaking its way into his indicated that Jaehaerys had finally abandoned his hiding place behind his mother and elected for a better position in the small space between his parents.
Wide amethyst orbs drafted upwards, searching for Maelys' lighter eyes. The prince offered his oldest child a warm, reassuring smile, but it did little to soften the haunted expression which lingered on his son's features.
Looking at his eldest, Maelys felt another small piece of himself break off and shatter as had been the usual since that day. As if by instinct, his eyes drifted over the crimson sleeve which covered the hidden bandages adorning Jaehaerys' forearm.
Where assassins like Blood and Cheese may no longer have access to his family through tunnels, his uncle's attempts were still persistent albeit less effective.
Maelys could almost imagine it despite not having been there himself. The crossbowmen. The panicked screaming. His desperate wife throwing herself over their son and dragging them towards the limited safety offered by Red Keep's heart tree. A midday stroll-turned-slaughter.
Chaos. And Maelys had been too busy sundering a distant bridge at the time. How often had he cursed himself and the godsforsaken Riverlands? A hundred? A thousand? Strategically, it had made so much sense at the time. Now, the crossing's destruction felt hollow compared to the scars left on his son.
Could the prince have stopped it? Admittedly, probably not, but the thought festered in his mind all the same.
At least, he'd already struck back at his uncle. Maelys felt a wicked smile creep onto his lips. Daemon was a monster, but he was also an excellent teacher if one examined his methods. The man himself may have been – temporarily - untouchable on the island fortress, but his hotheaded daughter proved significantly easier to coax out, especially when he held the Queen Who Never Was as a hostage. And where Baela went, Rhaena followed. Not that he'd expected them to be able to actually infiltrate the city, much less spring a grown-ass dragon.
Hopefully, his work later tonight would help clear up some of the rats who'd helped them.
Regardless, the twins themselves had already paid for their transgressions. If he closed his eyes, Maelys could still feel the sensation of writhing flesh and breaking bone between his fingers.
The feeking of Jaehaera squirming in his arms drew his attention back to the present, and the prince realized he had inadvertently begun holding his daughter a tad too firmly.
Helaena's gaze finally broke away from Naerys, and Maelys found himself locking eyes with his wife. Her characteristic, languid appearance was now underlined with dark circles. He allowed the placid expression to lull himself into a sense of calm before he realized he'd ignored her original question.
"If I had kept marching with the army, how could I have given the children their presents?" Maelys felt three sets of wide, purple eyes lock onto him like a pack of wild dogs. His daughter, shameless as she was, didn't even bother to wait before she was reaching for his pockets.
After a few seconds of child wrangling and subsequent arguing amongst themselves over who deserved the first gift – which of course Jaehaera won – Maelys found himself clasping a ruby-studded necklace around his daughter.
"There was a young woman who didn't need this anymore," he intoned, rustling her silver locks. From the corner of his eye, Maelys could see his wife frown though she remained silent. "But between you and me, I think it suits you better" he whispered to his daughter conspiratorially. His little girl was all giggles and dimples.
Maelor was practically vibrating with anticipation as he pulled a handful of pale green scales out of a pouch and deposited them in both of his sons' hands. From their enchanted expressions, one would have thought they'd never seen dragon scales before despite possessing a few dozen each. Hell, Jaehaerys even had his own mount in the form of Shrykos. Like all Targaryen children before them, however, they obsessed over and collected everything remotely dragon-related. It certainly made for easy gifts.
His wife's soft fingers threaded their way through his, and Maelys found himself quietly pulled into the adjoining bedroom whilst the children cooed and fussed over their new presents.
A quick, serious glance from Helaena prompted the prince to shut the connecting door while his wife deposited a gurgling Naerys into the ornate cradle beside their oversized bed. Technically, it was Helaena's bed, but they shared it more nights than not.
When she stopped fussing over the infant and stationed herself by the window, Maelys took that as his cue to approach.
Muscled arms wove around her wide torso, gently pulling her back against him. Before she could begin speaking, a thin, silver-engraved box was placed into her hands. Maelys allowed himself a moment to enjoy the hint of a smile which made its way onto her features upon opening it.
A pair of delicate, iridescent wings lay shimmering within the confines of the case. The princess gingerly traced along the edges of one careful not to crush the fragile appendage. She gave off a content hum before sealing the butterfly wings back in their container and gave his hand a squeeze.
"You don't plan on staying," her low voice stated rather than asked. He sighed, resting his chin on the top of her head.
"I leave on the morrow," Maelys confirmed, a tinge of regret lacing his tone. "There are a few loose ends I need to tie up here before I fly to the Riverlands."
"To Stone Hedge," his wife supplied, making the prince raise an eyebrow.
"Amongst a few other places with marriage proposals in one hand and a sword in the other." He paused before continuing. "You've been dreaming of me?" He probed, careful to temper the mixture of curiosity and wariness in his voice. Helaena hummed in a neutral tone.
"You trace the world with one finger alight," she spoke without any real emotion. If anything, she sounded a little fatigued despite it being early in the afternoon.
"My plans are preemptive, not causative," he countered. "This war was decided before Aegon and I were even out of the cradle," Maelys gently rebuffed, pulling his wife slightly closer. "You cannot blame me for wanting to survive. For wanting our family to survive. Would you not do the same?"
Helaena tensed against him, and she shifted to look up at him with a cold, hard stare.
"If that monster and his overgrown bitch of a mount come anywhere near this city, his hide will serve as the swaddling clothes for our next babe," his wife growled. She trembled with an uncharacteristic fury for a moment before allowing herself to relax and lean into Maelys.
"But is there not a difference between protecting one's family and reducing the world to ash?" she continued. "Our children will grow up with a father labeled a kinslayer ten times over."
Maelys slowly spun his wife, so that he could truly look at her. Like most people these days, the lines etching her face seemed deeper than they had a few months prior.
"Yes, they will," he agreed slowly, "but that means they get to grow up." He could see her eyebrows knit together at the internal conflict warring within her. Eventually, she simply leaned her forehead against his chest, and he slowly embraced her.
They stood unspeaking for nearly a full minute before she broke the silence.
"Did they suffer?" She asked, changing topics which Maelys interpreted as her giving up the argument at least for now.
"For Rhaena, it would have lasted but a moment," he supplied easily. Helaena sighed heavily at his omission of the other twin but opted to change course entirely rather than press further.
"I'll move Naerys crib to the other room. Be mindful not to wake the children when you sneak in and jump me later." She said using one of Maelys' own unique mannerisms. She gave him a hard look. "Preferably before I am asleep as would be courteous," she stressed.
Maelys rolled his eyes but couldn't help the smile that crept onto his features.
"Am I becoming that predictable?" He teased her. His wife barked out a single, humorless laugh.
"I know you, brother dearest," she countered. "You're always in a particular mood after doling out your particular style of justice."
Present day, the hour of ghosts
A cacophony of cries and shouting filled the silence on Maelys' stroll back towards his quarters. Armed guards and servants weighed down with buckets of water split around him like a rock in a stream. He waved off the occasional man-at-arms offering to escort him safely back towards the White Wing.
He took a meandering route through better ventilated parts of the keep so as to avoid bringing the smell of ash to bed. No need to upset Helaena more than he already would be.
"Tis a dangerous time to wander alone, my lord," spoke a figure lounging beneath an archway fit with the seven-pointed star. "There may be an arsonist flitting about the castle," Lord Larys remarked as he casually twirled his cane between two hands.
The prince flashed a smile over his shoulder, slowing his pace to a halt.
"As always, Lord Larys, your concern is warmly appreciated," Maelys returned. He offered an arm which the Master of Whispers took without a moment of hesitation. The proximity brought with it the smell of lavender. "But I wonder how I could ever be considered alone whilst under your watch."
The lame man gave a wry chuckle.
"Your estimation of my abilities is flattering, my prince," Larys said. "Though it still begs the question as to why you would choose to take a stroll this late at all," he continued, tone casual.
The pair detoured through a tiled courtyard, towards the spymaster's chambers which existed near the royal sept.
"Perhaps I simply needed to clear my head. It would invite bad luck to share my wife's bed with thoughts of another woman on my mind," Maelys answered, opening the door to Larys' residence and stepping aside.
The middle-aged man inclined his head. "A wise sentiment, my prince." He reached out and gently rubbed off a bit of spatter under Maelys left eye. "Dragon's blood?" The hooded man inquired, chuckling.
"Goodnight, Lord Larys," the prince replied with a grin of his own, turning in the direction of his own apartments.
"If you're going to re-enact some of my family's tragedies at Harrenhal, I would prefer you do so whilst we all didn't share a single roof," the spymaster spoke out to Maelys' retreating form.
The prince simply waved a hand over his shoulder in lieu of a reply. Without further interruptions, Maelys returned to the White Wing.
Careful as not to wake the children sleeping in the next room, he removed his tunic and crawled up towards Helaena's sleeping form. A chaste kiss roused the princess from her sleep, eliciting an immediate groan.
"Have the decency to prove me wrong just once," she whispered in a sleep-filled yet resigned tone. Her husband chuckled quietly and pressed another kiss this time to the crook of her neck.
"I'd much rather live indecently," he remarked, drawing her closer, "Now help me take off these fucking clothes."