Just as Grand Maester Mellos had predicted, the early morning sky was warm and beautifully clear as Diana got her children ready for the day. Only Aelyx would compete in the squire melee, with Daemon coaching him.

Daemon had taken Aelyx as his squire when he turned twelve and bonded with Vermither, the second largest dragon in Westeros and former mount of King Jaeherys; The Bronze Fury was only surmounted by Vhagar, the mount of Queen Visenya Targaryen, the last remaining dragon to have seen Old Valaria.

It had been a glorious day when Daemon had taken Aelyx on dragonback to Dragonmont to claim a dragon of his own. But, unfortunately, whilst Daemion's egg had hatched in his cradle, Aelyx and Alycia's hadn't. Nevertheless, Diana had no doubt that once affairs were settled in King's Landing and Aemma gave birth, Daemon would also insist on taking his daughter to Dragonmont.

Already, she could tell her husband was growing restless, trapped in King's Landing and unable to travel with his wife and children as he once had. His post as Lord Commander of the City Watch had given him a purpose for a while, a point of pride, but everyone knew that Viserys had only appointed Daemon to placate him and lessen the sting of rejecting his younger brother as Hand, Master of Law and Master of Coin.

Daemon had never done anything by half measure, including his loyalty to his family. So when he arrived at their changers late last evening, Diana hadn't said a word as she took his bloodied armour. She welcomed his lustful gaze as he took a bath just long enough to stop her from squealing in disgust. Then, he took her hard and fast on her knees, his feral growls and commands echoing through their royal apartments. It was paired with her squalls of pleasure.

Once he'd sated his lust along with his bloodlust, Daemon told her how he'd lead a massive roundup in Flee Bottom, finding and punishing all known criminals. That morning, Yelena, who Diana had summoned to King's Landing once they'd arrived back in Westeros all those years ago, had brought word that people were gossiping about the cart filled with dismembered body parts being paraded through the slums. As a warning against any who thought to take advantage of the King's guests.

Diana could only smile slightly at her husband's protectiveness over her family; she knew it made her seem callous and cold but couldn't find it within her to care for rapists and murderers who lost their cocks or heads to her husband's judgment. Especially considering that she'd worked hard to make King's Landing a better place for the common folk to live and prosper.

Of the dozens of orphanages within the city, Diana owned and helped to manage at least half of them. She'd also worked to create schools for the children who outgrew her orphanages and found themselves needing work and coin to survive.

Many of the young men who left quickly found work as apprentices or began to train as city watchmen, making her orphanages and school become very popular and well maintained by charitable donations made by the apprentice guilds and Lords and Ladies of the court who needed cause to get behind to seem kind and morally upstanding.

As for the young women, while usually, they'd be a shoo-in for the many brothels on the street of silk, selling their innocence for the coin, instead, they were able to find work as midwives, weavers and even septa's and Silent Sisters.

While King's Landing was in no way perfect, with Diana only one woman, even with the Queen's support and funding, it had become more accessible for the least fortunate to find the necessities to live. And now that Daemon, having heard her complaints of the men and women who took advantage of those with less power, raping children and leaving them dead in gutters, robbing single mothers and leaving them penniless and the City Watch, who before Daemon, had been all too eager to take bribes to look the other way.

Daemon's love may seem barbaric and heartless to some, but to Diana, he was the most thoughtful and loyal man to ever walked this cold, cruel earth.

But even Diana could admit that her efforts were not wholly selfless. Every year, she had her best workers handpick a few of the children set to leave their orphanages and had them discreetly offered… employment.

Pretty girls with an aptitude for deception quickly found work in the Red Keep and Dragonstone as maids and cooks. Boys with fast feet and slow consciences found themselves under Daemon's command in the City Watch or in several more minor, less prominent positions throughout the keep, waiting for the order to do something… distasteful.

Diana was pulled from her thoughts as Daemon came striding in, smiling as his two younger children cheered ad ran towards him, eager for attention. Grinning, Daemon pulled both children into a hug, kissing their forehead and allowing them to chatter away at him with an indulgent smile on his face.

"You spoil them," Diana called, walking forward, her eyes narrowed in mock disapproval.

"I love them," Daemon said, standing straight and striding to meet her halfway, "Just as I love their mother."

He pulled her into a kiss, uncaring when all of the children, including Aelyx, who played at being too old for his father's hugs, groaned and began complaining about them being disgusting.

"How do you lot think you came to be here?" Daemon asked after languidly pulling away from his wife but making sure to keep his arms wrapped around her waist in an act of defiance against his children's disapproval.

"Ugh!"

"Gross!"

"Kepa!"

Daemon chuckled as he gave Diana one last peck and began to march towards the door, calling over his shoulder, "I'm leaving; are you coming? Or are you too busy running your mouths?"

Alycia and Daemion followed, squealing and laughing, while Aelyx kissed his mother on the cheek and then walked out, calmly and quietly, like a man headed toward battle.

Diana smiled to herself as she followed after them, going right when they went left. Her place would be with Queen Aemma today, just as it had been for the last few months. But, as she walked the halls to Queen Aemma's rooms, she frowned at the bustling of servants she saw moving in and out of the Queen's chambers.

Picking up her long skirts, she quickened her pace, trotting into the room and breathing out a sigh of relief when she saw Aemma standing on her two feet, a lady's maid at her side. As the obviously labouring queen stumbled towards the bed, Diana ran to meet her, grabbing her other arm to steady her.

"How are you, Aemma?" Diana asked, grunting as she half carried Aemma to the waiting bed, an army of midwives waiting. She had no doubt the Grand Maester would be there soon as well, for all the good he would do, the old cod.

"I'm - Mmmmm! FINE!" The last word was a yelp as a contraction hit the queen, her already pale skin turning green with pain. She seemed only slightly relieved when her back hit fluffy pillows, relaxing into them until the next contraction came.

"Breath, Your Grace," An older midwife ordered, bringing water and warm towels to press to the queen's sweating face.

"When did the contractions start?" Diana asked, taking a seat on the bed and holding Aemma's hand as she yelled out another contraction.

"About an hour ago, the waters broke just before you came in, My Princess." Another maid said, jerking her head towards a suspicious puddle in the middle of the room.

"Alright," Diana sighed, getting comfortable, "Hand me a towel. This could take a while."

** Line Break**

And it did take a long time, too long, according to the Grand Maester, who wheezed out orders and toddled around the room looking lost as Aemma shrieked and squealed in pain, her back contorting as contraction after contraction hit.

Diana stayed by her side throughout the process, cursing Viserys in her head while Aemma's already meagre strength was leached from her body with every sip of Milk of the Poppy handed to her at the Maester's insistence.

Diana had tried to protest, stating the Queen needed her strength to push, but had been overruled by a harried Viserys who came bumbling in, seemingly into his cups, all too willing to believe a man over a woman who had given birth three times already in her life, the last time, almost taking both her life and Daemion's.

And for hours, it continued, with Aemma screaming, Viserys pacing and Diana holding back snarls as she held Aemma's hand, praying to the Old Gods and The New not to take her friend, her sister, from this world.

It wasn't until she noticed Viserys and Maester Mellos whispering in the corner, the Maester's hand clasped at his chest, free of blood; of course, he hadn't gotten close enough to touch Aemma throughout the process, content to stand back and bark orders from afar. Viserys looked frumpled, his close in disarray, his eyes darting to and fro as the maester whispered to him, too low for Diana's ears to pick up.

Murmuring reassurances to a panicking Aemma, Diana stood and marched over to a crestfallen Viserys, who looked like he was marching to his death as he took slow, tiny steps toward his wife's birthing bed.

Diana quickly tried to step in his path, but he veered around her, eyes locked on Aemma's writhing form. "Viserys…" Diana murmured, brow furrowed, watching him pass her.

"Princess," Maester Mellos called, making Diana step towards him, confusion making her nervous and agitated.

"What is going on?"

Instead of answering, Maester Mellos nodded towards a guard Diana hadn't seen enter the birthing chamber. As the armoured man stepped forward, taking her arm gently but firmly, Diana felt her panic rise and stared as the maester, and his assistants walked towards Aemma with intent.

"What is happening? Viserys? Aemma!" She called, struggling as the guard began pulling her towards the door, a partner coming to assist him as Diana's struggles became a full-blown fight as Aemma started to murmur in confusion, Viserys' head buried in her silver hair as the maester and his assistant moved to hold her down, arm and legs opened like a starfish.

A flash of a silver blade and then… the screams.

Blood-curdling shrieks as the master began to carve into Aemma's womb while she was still alive and awake. As blood began to pool and drip down to the floor, Diana joined in, her furious yells and screams filling the hallways as she dragged out, leaving Aemma screaming after her, "No, nonononono! VISERYS! DIANA!"

Diana was so busy struggling that it wasn't until she was forced to take a breath, worn out from her struggles and screams, that she realized just how quiet the chambers had become, deathly silent. Then, with one final, painful pull, Diana reached down, took the dagger Daemon had gifted her on their second wedding anniversary and plunged it into the crook of one of the guards' plated armour, into his side shallowly.

As the guards yelled in surprise and pain, Diana jerked out of their arms and ran, skirts picked up and into the room. She skidded to a halt and could only gape; her mouth opened in a silent scream of horror. On the bed lay what remained of Aemma, her pale, exsanguinated body laying bare, her entrails laying haphazardly around her ripped-open, empty womb.

A gurgle has her eyes slowly moving to take in a pale, blood-splattered Viserys as he cradled a tiny, too-small infant to his chest. His face was covered in tears as he listened to his child struggle to breathe; the only sound in the room its weak, gasping breaths.

"Was it worth it?" Diana whispered, her voice a hollow sneer as she took in her butchered sister and the doomed infant Viserys had sacrificed her for.

Viserys could only stare blankly at his son as tears streamed down his cheeks, grief turning him mute.

**Line Break**

The castle went dark with the news of The Queen's death. The great tourney Viserys promised ended not with a celebration but with a whimper as the court scrambled to give their condolences and take steps to further their causes in Viserys' apparent weakness. With every whisper of sympathy, though, came the murmur of greed. With Aemma dead, the King would soon be free to wed again to a bride outside House Targaryen.

Already, Lords were sending for their daughters to come to court, offering them up for a position in Rhaenyra's or even Diana's lady's maids. Aunt Diana had instantly put a stop to that, sending out ravens deterring any further requests, stating the King would make a statement after the official mourning period of six months.

In the two days since her mother's death, the castle had been stagnant and bustling with preparations for her funeral. And the funeral of the baby, Rhaenyra's brother. The child, who Viserys had named Baelon since before his birth, had only lasted a few hours before he died in her father's arms, his lungs too weak to support his already fragile body.

Both bodies were sent to the Silent Sisters for preparation; today, they would burn on the pyre in Old Valaryian tradition. Ever since word had reached the children of what had taken place while Aelyx won his first victory in the squire malay and Daemon lost a fight to Ser Criston Cole, Rhaenyra had been inconsolable. Unable to reach a grieving and withdrawn father, the young girl had spent nights sobbing in Diana and Daemon's arms, her cousins staying close to show support.

For the first time since they had been toddlers, all four cousins slept in Daemon and Diana's massive bed, curled up together while Daemon and Diana took the daybed, keeping watch over their hatchlings.

The air was still as Diana and Allicent, who had come knocking early that morning, helped Rhaenyra dress in a black gown, her silver hair loose around her shoulders. It was simple yet respectful for a funeral. Throughout, Rhaenyra held back tears, allowing Allicent to pull her into hugs and whisper comforting words in her ear while Diana watched on with sad eyes, already ready since before the sun came up, her dreams haunted by the image of Aemma's desecrated body.

A knock on the door had them turning to see Daemon standing there, also in black and looking to be holding back his own tears. Aemma and Daemon might not have been as close as the late queen was with Diana, but she had been his sister in title and cousin in blood for decades, and Daemon was feeling her loss not just for himself but for Rhaenyra and his family.

Taking a deep breath, Rhaenyra let out a slight sniffle before she pushed her shoulders back and led the procession to where the carriages sat, waiting to take them to the funeral sight, where Syrax would be waiting for Rhaenyra's command to light the pyre.

Daemon watched his niece walk by with hollow eyes. He'd never wished for the young girl to feel this pain, so young and carefree she had been, even with the losses her family suffered to Aemma's difficulties conceiving.

With soft steps, Allicent followed her eyes down, not making eye contact with the Rogue prince as she followed Rhaenrya out, her nail beds red with blood. Choosing to ignore the oddities of the Hightowers for one day, Daemon turned to his wife, who looked at him with soft, grief-stricken eyes. Then, holding out his arm to her, he pulled her close, kissing her forehead with reverence, holding her tightly as if to keep her with him always. There had been a reason they had stopped trying to for children after Daemion's birth proved difficult, and Viserys' was reaping the consequences of his pursuits.

Diana melted into him, allowing him to hold her tired, worn body up as she clutched his arm to her chest as they walked out, finding their children waiting for them. Aelyx stood tall, his face pale and drawn, eyes following Rhaenrya's every move. Alycia's face was red, cheeks streaked with long-forgotten tears, her hair pulled into a severe bun. Daemion's face was just… lost. The youngest of her children had never been confronted with a loss of this magnitude before, and Daemon knew he was struggling with the concept that Auntie Aemma wasn't coming back.

Silent, the children fell in line with their parents, Daemion and Alycia clinging to their parent's arms, looking for comfort, while Aelyx stood off to the side, his pride making him stand aloof. Daemon only caught a brief glimpse of Viserys climbing into his own wheelhouse as they left the yard, heading out of the city limits, away from prying eyes.

And as the prominent court members gathered around the pyre, his brother looked hollow. The look his wife sent the king could only be described as venomous, filled with reprehension and accusation. Syrax trilled from her spot up the hill as the High Septon began his sermon, the only sound filling the air, his dull voice droning on and the wind howling lightly.

Afterwards, the air was tense and filled with expectation as they waited for a silently crying Rhaenyra to say the word. To light the pyre and allow those in attendance to leave. When the minutes stretched by with no sign of movement from the princess, Daemon let go of a weeping Alycia and rage-filled Diana to stand behind his niece as he murmured, "They are waiting for you."

Instead of speaking in the common tongue, Rhaenyra replied in High Valyrian, as was their way, "I wonder. During the few hours that my brother lived, my father finally found happiness."

Her voice was dull, void of any emotion other than dark, dry humour. Her voice cracked on the last word as a tear rolled down her cheek, making Daemon wince as he replied, "Your father needs you. Now more than he ever has."

A small puff of hair came out of Rhaenyra's nose as she held back a sneer, "I will never be a son."

She looked over to where her father was barely holding himself up, so lost he was in his own grief. Stepping forward hesitantly, Rhaenyra opened her mouth to say the word but the sound caught in her throat, choking her as she stared at where Syrax, her beautiful, loyal lady, stood at attention, "Dra-" she swallowed the lump in her throat, gave one last, lingering glance at her father and allowed her grief propel her forward, spitting out, "Dracarys!"

And just like that, her mother and brother were gone, turned to ash, just like everything else.

** Line Break **

The throne room was silent as Viserys sat, his hands clenched into fists, one hand wrapped around the Valyrian great sword Blackfyre, Aegon the Conquerer's sword. His mind raced with the words of his council bickering in his ears. They whispered for him to set aside his brother and his children to announce a new heir in light of Otto's latest accusations against Daemon.

But Viserys couldn't do it without confronting his rogue brother first. The Heir For A Day… his mind whispered to him in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Aemma's. Like his lost love, who he'd been forced to burn for his sins.

Grinding his teeth, he looked up when the sound of unhurried footfalls met his ears. Looking up, he was surprised to see Daemon, not in his finery, but in his sleeping clothes, his eyes weary, dark circles under his usually mischievous indigo eyes. But those eyes sharpened as his brother took in the King's Guard that stood to attention around the throne, hands on their swords, eyes accusing him silently.

"What is it, brother?" Daemon asked slowly, cocking a hip but making no move to reach for his swordless hip, he didn't look like a man who'd been spending his days drinking and whoring in Flea Bottom, but Viserys had misjudged his brother before, so he took that with a grain of salt.

"Did you say it?" Viserys asked in reply, his blood boiling.

Eyes narrowing further, Daemon replied, "Say what? I left my grieving wife and children for this Vis-"

Viserys cut him off, his temper flaring in the face of Daemon's lack of deference, "You will address me as Your Grace, or I will have my King's Guard cut out your tongue!"

Daemon didn't bother replying then, looking up at his older brother with expectant but confused eyes.

Realizing he wouldn't get anything else out of him, Viserys continued, "The Heir For a Day, did you say it?"

Viserys could see when his words truly hit Daemon, as his brother's confused stare turned to one of insult, his lip curling as he sneered up at Viserys. Then, speaking almost too softly for Viserys to make it out, Daemon asked, "What does that mean?"

"Did you say it?!" Viserys roared, standing up, feeling spit fly from his mouth as his fury overtook him. At his movement, the King's Guard also began to draw their swords, ready for his command.

Daemon didn't flinch at the apparent show of strength. Instead, he leaned back on his heels, staring Viserys down as he replied, tone flat, "No."

"No, what?"

"No, Your Grace," The words were a snarl, "I didn't say that. I've been too busy comforting your daughter. Who has been staying with me and my household these last few days, not that you've noticed."

Viserys flinched at Daemon's words, their content cutting him like knives, but he held his ground, "My family has just been destroyed. But instead of being by my side or Rhaenyra's-"

"What the hell are you talking about, Viserys?" Daemon snarled, stepping forward but halting when he was met with steel. "Did you not hear a word I just said? Rhaenyra has been with my wife and me for days! While you hide away with your little toys, that snake you call a Hand is whispering poison in your ear!"

"Otto Hightower has been a loyal and capable Hand! And me! I've only ever defended you! You have no allies at Court except those your wife brings you. You talk of poisonous words; look no further than her! Again, I have only ever defended you!"

"You have only ever tried to send me away! To the Vale, to the City Watch! And don't you dare speak poorly of my wife! She has only ever cared for you, for Rhaenyra, for your dead wife!"

Viserys went to retort, but it seemed he'd finally sparked Daemon's famous anger, as his brother continued his rant, face turning red at the King's accusations, " Ten years you've been King and not once have you asked me to be your Hand!"

"Why would I do that?" Viserys sneered, face contorted in bewilderment.

"Because I am your brother." Daemon replied, voice cold, "And the Blood Of The Dragon runs thick."

"Then why do you cut me so deeply?" Viserys asked, voice almost as a whisper as tears threatened to bubble to the surface.

"I've only ever spoken the truth. I see Otto Hightower for what he is," Daemon's voice had turned cold, his face a blank mask in the face of Viserys' anger and disgust.

"An unwavering and loyal Hand?"

"A cunt." Daemon snarled, masking cracking as quickly as it came, "a second son who stands to inherit nothing he doesn't seize for himself."

"Like you?" Viserys snarled, "Otto Hightower is a more honourable man than you could ever be."

"He doesn't protect you! I would!"

"From what?"

"Yourself," when Viserys couldn't find the words to respond, Daemon continued, "You are weak, Viserys. And that council of leeches knows it; they all prey upon you for their own ends. Diana and the maesters warned you about Aemma, they begged you to let her rest, but Otto Hightowers kept on whispering about a son, an heir that wasn't me!'

"Perhaps they were right; perhaps it's time I chose a new heir." Viserys leaned back onto the throne, ignoring the twinge as, once again, its blades cut into his flesh. Too high on power to notice.

"I am your heir."

"Not anymore. You will leave my court, where to I do not know or care, but you will be gone by sunrise tomorrow, or I will string you up for the traitor you are."

Instead of snarling or fighting him, Daemon simply chuckled and looked at him with dark amusement, saying, "So this is what it took. For you to finally see what has been in front of you all along. What Diana, Aemma and I have been pushing for, for years."

"What are you talking about?"

"Rhaenyra, your only child," Daemon spat, "You ignore your own family's council for years regarding the line of succession, but all it takes is a rumour out of Otto Hightower's mouth and your finally bend? You really are weak, Viserys."

And with that, Daemon was gone, not looking back as Viserys sputtered and roared his fury at his back. Strutting away from his brother, away from the throne and not regretting it for a second. He had a family of his own now, he no longer needed Viserys' approval, and now, he didn't want it.

But how to tell Rhaenyra that her father had taken the only family she had left?

** Line Break **

Rhaenyra could only watch, with tears in her eyes and resentment simmering in her chest, as her father chased after her aunt and cousins as they walked out to the waiting wheelhouse. When word had spread that Daemon Targaryen had been passed over as heir for her and banished, Aunt Diana had been enraged. Pacing their quarters and shouting insults, everyone in the Maiden Vault could hear towards The King and his Small Council while vowing to follow her husband wherever he chose.

Daemon, surprisingly, had been the quietest. Other than murmuring reassurances to his scared and confused children and pulling Rhaenyra into a reassuring hug to show her he had no resentment towards her for her father's choices, he'd sat back and allowed Diana to scream and rant until she cool enough to firmly order their household staff to begin packing for the family's departure from the Red Keep.

Her Father, of course, had been dismayed to find out his actions once again had consequences, and his daughter would be losing her only allies and friends at court other than Allicent. Rhaenyra had raged at him when she had found out, begging him to reconsider until he'd taken her to the skull of Balerion the Black Dread and told her of the Song of Ice and Fire.

She hadn't wanted to believe her father, but despite her best efforts, the thought of finally being seen as worthy was too much to give up and sullenly, she had sworn herself to secrecy. Since then, she'd been avoiding her Father, instead spending what little time she had left with her cousins and Aunt.

Uncle Daemon had been gone by midmorning, the day after her father had disinherited him. Flying away on Caraxes to places known only to Aunt Diana, who refused to speak to her good brother, despite his many pleas and summons.

The cousins had shared a tearful goodbye, with Rhaenyra and Aelyx sharing longing glances over his younger siblings' shoulders. Before everything had fallen apart, Rhaenyra had hoped to be betrothed to Aelyx one day; he was intelligent, kind and growing into an obviously handsome young man.

Diana had murmured advice to Rhaenyra during their own hug and left one of her handmaidens, a Pentosi woman named Myria, who had a stern face and carried tiny daggers all over her person, to protect the new heir to the throne while the majority of her family was away.

And now she stood, up on the balcony, forced to watch with a tight throat while her Aunt Diana hustled her children into their wheelhouse, Daemion's hatchling Quickfang clinging to the sobbing ten-year-old's shoulder, hissing at anyone without Valyrian blood who came too close to the emotional princeling.

"Diana, please!" Her Father called, his voice weak with grief and regret. His eyes were wide and darting about in panic as he chased his good sister through the yard.

"There is nothing else to say, Your Grace." Aunt Diana spat, her voice cold and emotionless, "My loyalty is to my husband. My place is with him."

"Then, at least leave the children as companions for Rhaenyra!"

At his words, Diana seemed to lose what semblance of control she had left, wheeling around and snarling, "Our children belong with us. With Daemon and me. I will not abandon them in this cesspit you call a capital."

Narrowing his eyes, Father snarled back, "If you do this, you risk their very future. The children of a disgraced and disinherited prince. With me, they would have options!"

"With you?" Diana snarled, shaking her head, her face contorted into a grimace of disgust, "I'd rather poison my children now, get it over with than leave them with those vipers with only you as their protector."

"Fine!" Father yelled, his hold on his temper lost, "Leave! And don't come back! You will regret this! Mark my words, my brother is nothing but a disappointment; he will fail you just as he failed me!"

With the slamming of doors and the crack of the whip, the wheelhouse was gone in a dust cloud. Leaving Rhaenyra to her tears and Viserys to his guilt.